Sarah's Request

Eins Nimgrud

---

"...foul witch..."

Wretched drows with their foul magicking and idiotic ways. And the little drow over there thought she could actually seduce the dwarves. Mind controlled or not, no dwarf would stoop so low so as to be seduced by a filthy drow. The dwarves were restrained at least, leaving the ranger without a proper target, unless he felt like shooting at helpless men.

Eins lowered her hand from the sword still in its harness on her back, grateful that they did not have to do battle on the rather rotted looking bridge. Doubtless the whole dwarven expedition must have passed through here, and without collapsing the bridge as well. Thus, one measly mercenary wearing armor and carrying a two hander would not be enough to even strain the bridge.

Maybe?

She had not the slightest idea, but a mission was a mission, and there was a door on the other side, one the dwarven expedition must have passed through. Passing carefully around the restrained dwarves and the disgusting creatures the drow called up, she headed over to the other side, unsheathing her sword as she did so. The words of her companions still rang in her head. Mind flayers, illifid something, with black stones that controls your minds. It was enough for her to wish she was back in the battlefield with all its horror. At least there things made sense, with none of these mystical nonsense about magicked stones.

Finally at the end of the bridge at the other side, she took a glance back towards the others. Two restrained dwarves should be easy enough for those three to handle. Focusing on what was in front of her and ignoring the thing squirming around in her head, she pressed her hand against the door momentarily, before she pulled one of the levers beside it, seeking entrance to the next room.

Just as the group separated, Cristoff made sure to warn his companions to begin their challenges at the same moment, so that each would have the full ten minutes that the illusionist had specified. Cristoff's instinct told him to make a dash for the large striped pavilion at the southern end of the village, but he suppressed the urge to run, walking instead at a brisk pace towards his challenge.

As he arrived and first laid eyes on the mirrors in the tent, he breathed a small sigh of relief - at least he had guessed correctly at the nature of the challenge. His joy was short-lived, however; the more he stared into the reflections in the mirrors, the more he realized there was an eerie quality to the frames of the mirrors - distorted, chaotic, seemingly infused with the darkest of magic. Cristoff closed his eyes a second, mustered all his courage, and with a deep breath, stepped into the maze.

He paused a moment, wondering how long the challenge was; he wanted to slow down, take his time to observe, and plan before making a move, but he knew he had only ten minutes. It seemed to him he would have to make it to a goal - whether that be the center, or an exit. Whatever the objective may be, he had to complete it in good time.

Cristoff stared into one of the mirrors, certain it was an illusion, though perhaps a solid one. Nevertheless, he decided to test it; he touched the edges, cringing a little as he did so, and then, with the hilt of his blade, attempted to smash it, just to see what would happen if he did. Having satisfied himself of the result, he stepped forward, readying an incantation in his mind, moving as quickly as he could without losing himself in the confusing array of reflections. His mathematical ability, and his skill in tracking positions and movement, would certainly help him here; he made sure to memorize the way back, in case he met a dead end.

Here Cometh the Wolves

Laenaia was taken aback by Saul's sudden outburst. She surely didn't expect him to lash back with so much passion despite his apparent disdain of their presence during their travel to Tuleria. Yet, here he was, angry at her for the implication that he didn't care of their well-being. She didn't know how to take this revelation. Was she elated? That he was more approachable than she initially thought? Was she angry? That he thought she couldn't take care of herself? or was she concerned? He'd outdo himself trying to watch over them all the time without help.

She huffed upon hearing the lizardfolks comment over-clothings, "The sun rays are worse for my health than its heat and it could do much worse to my skin than what too much sweating could, not all of us has skins that could be shed like yours, lizards."

She nodded to James, "Not having to look at my back every so often would be nice." She turned to face her guide before they depart. "Though, before we go, is there anything you can tell me about the good doctor? Or a warning?"

Saul followed behind Rexel as he looked around the squalor of a community he was being led to. These beings were hardly living in homes for the most part, he had seen and known poverty as a child but this to him was on a whole new level. And of course he guessed that it was almost impossible to improve their situations. The general populace would have none of that; they needed someone to look down upon so that their own meager housing seemed like a mansion in comparison to the humiliatingly humble Lizard-folk community. Though Saul wasn't really disgusted by this. His apathy towards the suffering of others was that he either didn't care, or more likely wasn't surprised by it; having been the instrument of the very same cruelty once, a lifetime ago.

Despite Rexel's obvious discomfort in being around beings who collected human teeth and bones. Saul was almost fascinated by it and respected it greatly. These were a warrior people, a hard people, and most notably above all else, a proud people. Despite their standards of living that most soft-bellied Renaltans would consider appalling, the Lizard-folk had tapestries displaying their feats of strength, courage and mettle. These were not a people whose honor and dignity would be sullied lightly. And Saul admired and respected that since he was the same, despite having lost all sense of dignity personally.

Saul almost laughed out loud when he saw the grand and proud building amidst all the hovels surrounding it. The irony was so stunning Saul figure it was something that one would only hear about in a satirical novel. But here it was, Varro's establishment (or so he assumed at least) and guarded by Lizard-folk that seemed a little too lax to be on guard duty. But Saul guessed far better.

When the guard blocked off Rexel, Saul strove up front with confidence, the heat didn't bother him. An upbringing on a poor farm in the sweltering Rheinfeld sun put that weakness to rest quite early on in his life. Once again his posture and way he conducted himself was that of a soldier, a commander. Yet Saul didn't even realize it half the time. At this point, it was habitual.

“I'm trying to prevent your people from being mobbed by the City's majority. I'd say that would be an extent of invitation.”

The lizardman rolls his shoulders, pressing off away from the wall and rising to his full height. Perhaps no challenge to Saul's stature, but it did not appear to matter much to the man. He eyes Saul up and down before his lips draw back. Perhaps the exposed fangs were a fierce smile... Or perhaps a threatening display. Saul could hardly be certain given his inexperience with the race. "Let them come, human. H'risshrii alwaysss ready," he blurts choppily. It would be apparent that common is not his favoured language. A cacophony of hisses and clicks roar out about him before the guard slashes his hand at the air. Silence reigns, almost eerily. Saul would feel every eye in the area suddenly on them.

Saul curiously looks around as the lizard-folk made what he thought was some sort of war cry. A proud defiant stance at all who would harm them. He stood there for a moment amid the silence. Poor Rexel must have been shitting himself in fear at this moment. But Saul paid him no mind, he was processing what the guard was telling him and was starting to understand how these people thought.

He concluded that he liked them very much. Almost too much, their pride and their intimidating hisses was intoxicating to Saul, he couldn't get enough of it. Perhaps a decade of being a shining example of failure made him forget what it was like to be proud and to be around those who fought like him, who bled like him, and who would probably die like him as well.

He looks at the guard and right before breaking the silence, gives his own blood-curdling grin of approval.

“Aye!” He proclaimed enthusiastically “And you would fight well. I'm almost envious of it in fact.”

He looks about again, the lizard-folk were now watching him. Perhaps they were amused by this human who came marching in like this. Who could say what these beings thought in the back of their scaly heads.

“But you and I both know the hysterical mob are not fighters or soldiers. Their crying little cowards looking to kill something weaker than themselves. They won't go after you, with your weapons and mettle. They'll go after your younglings, your food supplies, your houses. They won't take your life because they cannot, but they'll go after your way of living. And drive you off your land.”

Saul glared at the guard. He wasn't trying to intimidate him per say. But the blood had gotten to Saul's head, for a moment, he felt like he belonged somewhere again.

“And they'll do it not because their cunning or evil. But because their stupid and frantic. Someones going around killing people and making it look like your kind did it.”

He then takes a step back from the guard and scoffs at him.

“Someone is trying to portray your Community as a bunch of thieving rogues who kill old weak defenseless politicians in the dark. Who aren't faithful soldiers and citizens of Tuleria but instead squandering cutthroats who scuttle like a rat in the shadows.”

Maybe it was becoming obvious that Saul had once been a general. He gave very rousing speeches, which one didn't expect out of one who looked so brutish as he did.

The guard appears baffled as the human fails to back away. Rexel, beginning to reach for his weapon while quivering with fear, looks around with frantic terrified eyes. A more serpentine lizardfolk woman appears to take interest in this, letting out a low hiss and slinking closer. Before tension could break, the guardsman bursts out into laughter, "Ssssmoothsskin is ssmart!" He looses a series of noises to those around him. They seem to relax and back off as his partner goes inside, casting a sad look at Rexel as they slink away. "People here not bright," he taps his temple, "Don't think. Not like thingss were, before little ssmoothsskinss and your kind made Tuleria," he nods somberly. "But our land too now, we do not want blood of..." he pauses for a moment, thinking of the word, "Countrymen." He falters and looks back for a moment. "What deathss you sspeak of?"

Saul gives out a warm-hearted grin at the Lizard-folk's laughter. He grunts in agreement at his words. Though Saul wondered what it was like to live in a community whose culture and way of life was in constant danger of being over-run by such hostile forces in the City. Groups like the Dragon knights openly preaching slaughter; as if they had any idea of the definition of the word. Saul concluded that their circumstances must have been rather shite. And he had a feeling that if he expressed this opinion openly, most of the lizard-folk would not disagree with him.

He looks at the guard when he asks the last question. Saul sighs somberly for a moment.

“Sorry, but that I can't go into too much detail about it. But lets just say that people are getting killed. And someone really wants people to think it's either a Lycan or a Lizardman carrying it out”

Saul looked over to Rexel for a brief moment and gave out a soft, humorous snort in response to the Captain's actions. Saul figured that his ignorance of these lands would be a bit of an advantage. Men seemed to be genuinely scared of Lizard-folk. While Saul was enjoying their company more and more. Though that perhaps spoke more on Saul's personality more than anything else.

“Master Varro can vouch for the validity of my statement” he said to the guard in a somber tone. “And I need to speak with him to see if we can find a way to sort this mess out.”

The lizardman scratches along his neck, nails picking beneath scales, "Ah, Varro. You want ssee Varro?... Maybe ssoon. He busyman, you talk to Clansmasster firsst, maybe? He talk to more than H'risshii, know much of Port Luclin." Rexel narrows his eyes, "He would not talk to me before." The lizardman grunts, "He knowss you not like our kind. Thinkss you no better than little sso-called 'Knightss'"

Saul sighs in minor annoyance. Even the lizard-folk had a bureaucracy to some extent. So he needed to talk to this Clans Master first? Saul at first would have much preferred Varro... until he heard Port Luclin mentioned. He remembered that corpse that Janelle showed to the group dealt with official business at the Port. Saul brightened a little bit. Perhaps it was better to see him first.

“Yes. I would be incredibly interested in what your Clans Master could reveal to me, I would appreciate being sent in that direction.”

Saul then rolled his eyes at the banter between Rexel and the guard. It would have been humorous if it wasn't so trivial.

“Captain Rexel is my guide throughout the City and I wish him to accompany me. So I will vouch for him and will promise your Clans Master that he will be primarily talking to me and not our dear Captain.”

After a moments pause, Saul thought he would add one small bit of advice,

“There is a strong difference between dislike, and what the Knights preach.”

The guard shrugs a shoulder, "You have point. But many not... trusst Captain." He grunts as his companion returns and utters a few quiet words. "Ah, Ssbis will ssee you. Come."

Cease Fire

---

The fight was going well so far. The Templar Order and Rheinfeld Republic fight side-by-side well. With the assistance of the Templar, Alida and two of her soldiers manage to force the betrayers away from the staircase, enabling some of the men to file up towards the archers even as Alhavaryis and Lother approach closer unnoticed. Below, Taigyn leads his own mixed force up against the approaching Papacy squad. Taigyn himself manages to fell two of the mercenaries as those following him spread out in an attempt to surround them.

It would seem, in the chaos of everything, the archers have completely forgotten about the small woman, Draza... In fact, they were beginning to grow panicked at the furious roaring and stamping of an ogre going into a rampage and the approaching fighters. With a great shout, and seeing red at the obvious attacks directed at the sprite, Gahrul manages to find the strength in him to lift up the great round disk of stone table... before sending it flying at the archers. Their screams are drowned out as the table crashes through a support beam, through the upstairs balcony, and straight out the wall of the church. The battle seems to fall silent as everyone lets out a shout of terror and tries to get away from the cracking and crumbling area.

The flying wood shrapnel hits Alhavaryis in the thigh, sending him to the ground. Lothar, still shocked by the archers being crushed between wall and stone table, had stopped just short of the area and remained safe. Drawn out of it by Alhavaryis' shout of pain, he suddenly becomes aware of the danger. Leaping forward, shield raised, he managed to protect the man from some of the rubble. The additional weight on the weakened balcony, however, begins to break the wood and sends them falling down to the first floor of the church.

Parts of the cathedral come crashing in. Many of the guard who had made it to the top floor had no chance but to try and leap from from the balcony to try and escape the crashing rocks. Many do not make it in time as they are buried in rubble. Those who did suffered injury of various severity. Alida herself lands bad, throwing a shield over her her head to stop crashing rubble from hitting her. Her arm makes a sickening noise as a large chunk of stone hits her shield. She looses a pained yelp, but she was still alive. Hans, her second, fairs slightly better, but is knocked out from a blow to the head.

Those fighting below had some better luck. The papacy managed to get away alive save for the loss of one more, leaving just the leader and 2 injured fighters alive. Taigyn gets clear, a little scuffed but fine. Davian fairs the same, managing to get a few Templar clear... The ones with Taigyn, however, were lost save 2... Sisera, though... Sisera lets out an extremely pained scream, leg caught and crushed in rubble, flesh riddled with scratches from splintered wood and rock. Gahrul was mostly unaffected, huffing and looking around wildly as he bellows, “None hurt Draza!” Ironic, though, as she sprite had been struck with a splinter of wood that got past Gahrul's great mass. Her small arm is limp at her side, a long piece of the balcony protruding from her small shoulder. In all likeliness, she would be fine if she could see a medic to get it removed.

If they could recollect themselves, in the chaos of the collapse, the Queens' Blades would have a good chance to strike the papacy's men.

RESULTS--

Injured, Draza (Arm, moderate), Alhavaryis (Leg, moderate), Lothar (general, minor), Alida (severe, broken arm), Sisera (severe, broken leg), Hans (moderate, unconscious)

Alive Enemies, 2 Injured Papacy fighters, Uninjured Papacy boss

Alive NPCs, Injured Alida, Unconscious Hans, Davian, Taigyn, 4 Injured Templar, 2 Uninjured Templar, 2 Unconscious Republic, 4 Injured Republic

Cease Fire

---

“Well, this got a bit out of hand.”

Draza had a pained smile upon her face. She was scared, her little heart was pounding, her arm was somewhere between numb and throbbing horribly. She knew she was hurt, it was pretty evident. The large chunk of structure inside of her had made that very clear for her.

She didn’t really know what was going on. She hadn’t really been in combat before like this. She’d been certainly near combat, but never in it. Everything seemed to move so numbly and slowly. It was almost like it wasn’t real, as if it were some piece of fiction and she was but a character within it.

Gahrul’s voice snapped her out of her almost trance-like state.

“None hurt Draza!”

Oh that big lug, he hadn’t a clue. To be fair, Draza barely had a clue herself. She knew there were arrows, and was still unsure if what was in her was one or not. It didn’t feel like an arrow, but then again, what does an arrow feel like?

“Gahrul?” She spoke, a bit more clear than her muted mumblings earlier, “You’re really strong. I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Gahrul, for his own stance of mind, only now registered that Draza had indeed been hurt. Mixed thoughts of failure and unbridled rage soared and filled his brain. He turned towards the nearest thing that looked like an enemy and roared, lifting a foot and stomping it down before looking like he had the dangerous intent of charging and crushing the injured Papacy fighters.

“Gahrul, no!”

Draza had little understanding of what was going on, but she certainly didn’t want more unnecessary damage to go on. The screams and crunching from earlier speeding up in a burst of static in her mind, “Less smash, I’m not the only one hurt. Others can handle the rest, your strength would be better helping get people to safety.”

Gahrul want smash. There is no denying this. But Draza was talking such words to him, and he want Draza happy too. So, in his mind, Gahrul only has two options. Gahrul can smash and have to have mad Draza say things that will make him cry like little girl in sorriness, or Gahrul can not smash. Gahrul hates such tough choices in life.

The look of pouting on his face was evident, “Won’t smash,” his tone, dejected. Draza walked over, and with her good arm hugged his leg, “Good, let’s help someone then.”

And, so they did.

First Blow – Alexander Lyre

Alex jogged up the hill, trailing behind the rest of the group. The pistols glinted in his hands, red flashes of light blazing in the sun. He jangled with each step, leaving the trio of collapsed corpses behind. They weren’t going to stay down forever, but it was a problem for later. The foul mist lurked ahead, and soon enveloped him. Thankfully, the others were no quieter than he was, so he had no problem following. He maintained an easy lope; the tense nervousness and expectation of an ambush didn’t leave him until he broke through the mist.

What Alex found was worse than the anticipation. A magically drained corpse was tethered to a withered tree. He could barely tell it was a woman, with short blond hair. His first reaction was rather incongruous to the situation. Gecko? His chest pounded and he tingled with same sensation he had right before he lost a big hand. Even Wren diving into view, worn down but unharmed didn’t alleviate it He was looking at the abomination that just missed her after all.

A gargoyle. He let out a single pithy curse, in between his heavy breathing. The final card had still yet to be played here. Even the hulking monster, gaping fangs and heavy stone, wasn’t enough. "More skin to sew unto my glorious frame..." Alex shuddered at the thought, and raised a single pistol, pointing it at the thing’s ugly face. Shuffling noises echoed up behind him, and he half spun around to look behind them. The other pistol rose up to aim at the nearest of the three shambling undead behind. My old friends...

Thalien started barking out orders. Alex shrugged mentally. He didn’t remember her being put in charge, but they made sense. Despite the nigh overwhelming temptation to plant a bullet straight into those ridiculous and vicious fangs, Alex whirled around and focused on the unnatural corpses slowly making their way up behind him. “We meet again. Say hello to my little friends,” Alex whispered softly to himself. He fired the first aimed pistol, then took two steps to the side to fire the second one. He began a fast, but methodical reloading. “If you can cover my back, I’ld appreciate it Wren!”

Amazonia Imperiia

---

Kraith began to smell magic, a slight sickly unpleasant odour, like that of chicken only just going to rot. A source of unpleasant and malevolent magic perhaps? Worse. The situation despite with his preparation was, simply put, too perfect. The situation was beginning to put him on edge and he didn't much care for the feeling. It never boded well.

In fact... as did the fact he couldn't find any material to even reanimate a dead rat earlier. Instead he looked at Traxilus and prayed, hoped, that the man would pick up the ball and do something to distract the woman. He had come too far now to let what work he'd arranged slip away.

And so he did his best to avoid notice and waited for Traxilus to pick up the ball and do something to distract the last Amazon, even if that included 'entertaining' her in the dirt there and then. If she was distracted it would take him but a moment to get into the tent, get the glowing gem from the chest in the tent and then get out with it swaddled in cloth or something similar.

All he needed was Traxilus to distract her.

First Blow

Maher blinked in surprise as he reached the top of the hill and saw what awaited them there. The... creature... gargoyle... whatever it was... well Maher had certainly not been expecting to run into such a thing. In hindsight he considered that he should have thought of it, they were targeting a Lich after all, creatures of magic as well as undead would likely be placed in their path. He knew little about the construct except the abstract theory behind the magic that animated them studied in passing as part of his magical training over the years. His father had believed that focusing on a single path of magic without at least the briefest knowledge of other practices was the mark of an ignorant magician. Still Maher had never studied the other disciplines in depth, water he knew, and he had studied anti-magic as part of his training with the templars, for the rest he knew only slightly more than a non-practicioner, certainly nothing as complex as the creation of a construct.

As the creatures wings buffeted the group and Maher heard the now familiar sounds of undead approaching from behind, his sisters 'voice' in his head interrupted. So she was going underground, he knew how much his sister hated not being able to see the sky. He smiled slightly at the thought and returned the equivalent of a mental grin along their shared link. He then shook his head a little and refocused his attention on his surroundings, he had more immediate worries than his sisters discomfort after all.

He heard Thalien bark orders and falling back on the military discipline he had learned as part of the Templars Maher found himself moving to comply. The four man group had no formal leader but the orders had a degree of sense to them and frankly it appeared no one else was stepping up to make order from the chaos of the situation, at least until Erasmus chimed in with his input. Maher suppressed a shudder as his attention was called to the 'magical dead zone' around Erasmus, Maher had unconsiously stepped away from the man when he had cast at the undead earlier it seemed easier to forget the mans influence and simply move to avoid it by instinct, with it not called to the forefront of his mind Maher suddenly felt... smaller... less than he was. He had learned to fight without magic of course, but magic had been ingrained as part of his life since early childhood, and strength of arm alone was not going to defeat the creature before them. Still Erasmus' suggestion was sound and so Maher began moving right as he studied the gargoyles form.

All magic shared some components, the more complex the spell the more components it tended to contain, Somatic and verbal tended to be the most common followed by certain materials imbued with magical properties and runes or other written forms given power. The least common tended to be less tangible, souls, divine favour, direct access to the wells of power themselves. How a spell was put together granted insight to how one might counter it.

Try as he might however as he studied the gargoyle Maher could not see any external signs of spellwork, so they would need to breach the outer shell to really counter this creature which was likely using some of the less common components, it appeared intelligent after all, there was only one way to do that that he knew of even with his admittedly limited knowledge of such magic, implanting a soul to power the construct. All in all it did not bode well for the group.

Regardless they had to try, not doing so meant death... and surely worse. Moving to the opposite side of the Gargoyle from Erasmus, Maher raised his hands and began canting and making arcane gestures. "Mystic river grant me strength, your waters pure and cleansing... Sunder thou prohibitive dams, let your cleansing power flow... BREACH!" Maher finished as he flung out his arms towards the Gargoyle mixing properties of anti-magic with a torrent of compressed water as its carrier... with a little luck he might weaken or break whatever protective magic was contained in its outer shell, with a lot of luck he might breach the outershell itself, at least he believed that was possible and poured his intent into just such an effort...

"Yet they didn't force the door open? So they must have found a switch or something? That or something else." -Sarzu, Page 2.

First Blow

Wren heard the commands issued by Thailen and after a brief moment of hesitation, decided to follow them with a quick nod of approval. It seemed likely though that she would have preferred to remain fighting the Gargoyle rather than move to engage her dead compatriots. It was at this point that the undead gecko came running over to her and with an unholy sounding squeal of joy, hopped onto her ankle and quickly dashed up her side, to her shoulder. A soft smile indicated she knew it and was even reassured that it had survived. Underneath her cloak, though, was the reason why she was likely important to the plan: A strange looking, red coloured tube with a fuse and a painted dragon's warhead were attached... A dragon rocket from the Kingdom of Dreams.

Thailen's attack came first, as the others had to reposition to surround it after all, and with a resounding snap the whip strikes the Gargoyle's wrist... Though after a moment it grabs the whip before it can return to Thailen, and with a vicious grin it yanks on it with unholy levels of strength, pulling her a couple feet into the air and rendering her out of balance. "Zealots came before you, and died, female, what chance do you think you have when your male counterparts all fell before the wrath of my master?" It states smugly as it dives for her. The attack likely would have succeeded if not for Maher's assault. The creature didn't seem able to detect magic, and thus thought it could ignore the water heading its way, but was surprised when struck with it. It is pushed a few feet away from Thailen, and for a moment, twitches, almost like it had been stunned by the blow, but there was no serious damage apparent on its skin. Still. It was something, and it was now only five feet away from Erasmus.

At the same time, Alex's shots pierce through the fog accompanied by the sounds of what seemed like thunder emanating from him as it echoed from the top of the hill. Both shots find their marks, one blowing out a knee cap and the other blowing apart a head. That left two of the undead shambling up the hill: One now crawling up with its arms, and the other untouched. Just as Wren was about to move to engage, ignoring Alex's request to watch his back, something appeared from the shadows cast by the fog behind the remaining undead. The single remaining functional undead turns, only to receive a crossbow bolt through the head. As it falls, the form of D.H. can be seen, his demonic origins clearly visible even now.

D.H. Himself arrived as reinforcements from the ship, a late arrival that then crossed the few hundred feet of sea with haste using his aeromancy, boosted and aided by a few mages on the deck of the ship. A few quick footed steps through the fog and there he was, ready to assist the group at large. What he would do now, however, was entirely up to him... Though his intuition as a wanderer likely told him that strength in numbers and caution around Thailen would be the best principles he could wield.

After the long trip, D.H. found himself restless. He rarely traveled over water, as it still perturbed him, for the Demon Realms didn't have water. Shaking his head as he thought about his first encounter with the liquid mortals seemed so dependent on. He trudged carefully along, each step cautious, and making no sound, as his soft boots and his training kept them quite. Only a short distance away, he could hear sounds of battle, and so sped up, whilst keeping his cautious tempo, scanning the area for any kind of threat.

After a few short moments, he came into view, seeing the group and their opponent. Seeing the woman use a whip of all weapons against a creature of stone, he could do nothing but roll his eyes. crouching low, he took out his crossbows, his magic growing around him as he let out a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them, a deadly glint filling them as he did.

"Dae'kestiam kevora mistena vae..." He whispered to himself. It wasn't magical, but seemed to mean something to him.

standing up and aiming the crossbows in one swift motion, he unloaded the cartridges for both in what seemed to be a single second as magical wind wound through the mechanisms, speeding them up tremendously. Each bolt flew the same path, as wind whirled around them, spinning the deadly bolts, and putting them on course for the creatures chest. As they flew, shadows would envelope the bolts, writhing unstably as they built up. On contact, they would create small, but effective explosions, the shadow energy eating at the tough skin. Though each one was relatively simple, he was cautious of over-using his magic. The one thing he didn't need, was to become useless in a fight. As he finished firing off the bolts, he rolled away, using his cloak to shadow himself as he reloaded the crossbows, his eyes never leaving the Gargoyle, except once, to make sure there was sufficient distance between himself and the remaining undead.

Sarah's Request

---

Kasim slowly lets the tension off of his bowstring as he watches the wights wrestle the dwarves down. He was mildly disappointed by the lack of a real fight, but then again this was perfect for what he had in mind. The dwarves going unhurt was also a bonus, of course, but Kasim had no qualms about them taking some injuries. Pain and danger were a part of adventure, after all, so it wouldn't be surprising if some of the dwarves only made it home after taking some grievous injuries. He put his bow and single arrow away, taking a moment to make sure the bow was securely strapped to his back, before heading over to the bridge to the pile of dwarves and wights.

Kneeling down by the head of the dwarf that appeared to be held most secure by the wights, Kasim grabbed the fellow's weapon hand with his own gloved right hand and held it firmly to the ground, just to be safe. It wouldn't do anyone any good if the guy decapitated him while he was working, after all. He then brought his left hand up, gripped the leather of the glove between his teeth, and pulled the glove away to expose the pale flesh it had been hiding. Kasim's left hand was hovering just above the dwarf's forehead when he paused, remembering something. He let the glove drop from his mouth and looked up toward the drows, hoping Eins would be able to hear him as well.

"So, uh, I didn't say anything about this before, but I have an ability I'm about to use. I've been told that it's called non-magic telepathy. I'm going to use it to dig into this dwarf's mind to try to find out what's controlling him, and to free him if I can." Kasim paused and looked down at the nearby wights for a moment before turning his attention to Naream. "Oh, and if you could maybe tell these things to be careful not to touch my skin while I'm doing this, that would be great. I don't think I'd like to see what's going on in the heads of your undead friends."

Without further ado, Kasim turned his eyes back down to the dwarf and clamped his hand down on the fellow's forehead. He immediately started to dig deep into the dwarf's mind, past the surface thoughts, seeking information on what was controlling him, what dangers lurked further in the temple, and where the artifact was. Although usually Kasim would also be sending out horrid psychological torture alongside this kind of mental probing, which was his twisted way of fulfilling his darker desires to hurt others, this time he instead exercised some self control and sent out a mental message telling the dwarf that his mind was being held prisoner by some evil force and that he needed to fight it to help save his companions.

Sarah's Request

She let out a hiss of irritation but made no comment as she watched the skeletal wights march across the bridge to wrestle the stunty Dwarves down, seemingly subduing them rather well. She stepped to the side as the ranger fellow, Kasim walked forwards to the Dwarves struggling against the undead minions of that, somewhat capable Naream, summoning those undead was a decent idea she had to admit, but obviously he had been foolish to try it, what if this flimsy wooden bridge couldn't have supported the weight of the undead and the party? She would probably have been unable to slit his throat before falling to their death as revenge for him killing them all. She rose a eyebrow at whatever the human ranger was doing, about to ask what in the nine hells he was up to when he started to speak.

As she started to understand what he was saying she made sure her face was unreadable and neutral, merely raising a eyebrow as if surprised and skeptical, she could relate to what he was saying, she too had the same ability from the sound of it. She made sure to keep a mental note of that information and guard her thoughts and mind well around this Kasim. "Yes well, make sure to stay out of my mind, my thoughts are my own, thank you very much." She muttered as she watched him as he seemed to engage his attempt at telepathy to look whatever was pulling the strings of the Dwarf she stepped closer to Kasim, making sure her back was to Eins, so her front was hidden from the other human as she slipped a dagger into her hand and kept an eye on Kasim. She survived this long for being paranoid and cautious, so if there was any sign at all that this human, by digging into the mind of the Dwarf, was getting compromised, she would be certain to quickly eliminate a threat to the group.

"Necromancer, if your pets lose control of the Dwarves during all of this, I will hold you responsible and exact swift retribution." She said over her shoulder, noticing a trend in the Drow necromancer, he seemed rather comfortable staying at the back of the group and almost always in such a position that he could either advance with the rest of them, or quickly run away. The ranger seemed to know what he was doing and competent overall, so far at least, she would see how his telepathic attempt into a Dwarf's mind would go. The other human, Eins, seemed distrustful of her and Naream, she didn't really care, she ignored her, apparently she was busy trying to open the door to whatever was next this way. There was one disturbing piece of information that kept nagging at her, these Dwarves... they demanded they leave, they didn't attack right away, that was, rather unnatural to her. If they were controlled by something in here that was supposed to guard this tomb or temple... then why give them a opportunity to 'leave'. She looked at Kasim with a frown, "Let's hope you can find some information in those thick Dwarven skulls." She muttered, tightening her grip around the handle of her dagger.

Cease Fire - Lothar and Alhavaryis

The past minute had just been a blur to Lothar. Right as he left the room with Alhavaryis, Lothar literally saw a hunk of stone fly in front of him and crush a man. It simply left him stunned. The only thing that snapped him out of it was the screaming of Alhavaryis, who had been hit in the leg by a large piece of wood. Lothar dove to cover Alhvaharyis, who was on the ground. Next thing Lothar knew was that the floor gave up and both of them went down to the first floor... painfully. As the dust settled, Lothar looked around. It was devastation everywhere. What remained of the run down, but still respectable church was in pieces. There were mangled bodies everywhere, and it seems few made it through without serious injury. Lothar himself was a bit bruised up from the fall, but nothing was too serious. He muttered a quick thanks to the gods and stood up. Then, he turned to look at Alhavaryis, and offered a hand to help him up as he said "Come on. We still have a job to do."

Alhvaharyis blinked, and took Lothar's hand, wincing. He didn't have time to reason nor to reflect. He could see their final opponent, striding forth through the dust. Sunlight snuck through the fissures in the church and glinted cruelly over the steel of the man's blade. It took but a quick probe with his mind for Alhvaharyis to realize they were dealing with a Templar: he recognized the familiar, yet still unnatural, damp, advancing ponderously. He couldn't feel it on his skin just yet, but it was close. Maybe it was the pain, but he moved with calm, assessing what to do even as he raised a hand to cast a spell. Clearly, targeting the Templar was not going to be an option... but the mercenaries beside him bore no such protection. Channelling his magic, Alhvaharyis attempted to flare up their sense of avarice, and jealousy.

Surely, it would be all too easy to kill off this man, this man who dares call himself your superior, who stands between you and your bounty... in the chaos, it could be passed off as an accident, nobody would know... you wouldn't be the weakest, the dogs, then, no, that would show them!

Alhvaharyis drew from the soul of the man he had slain previously. It was dark, and low, as souls went, beasts were nobler. Precisely because of this it served his purpose. A dark soul for a dark task.

Lothar looked at Alhavaryis's hand as it streched out towards the mercenaries. He understood imeadiately what was happening. Alhavaryis was going to provide support with his magic since he couldn't move around well with his injured leg. This left Lothar with the job of moving in close to finish the deal. Thankfully, he would have some help in this fight. Lothar drew his sword and shield and began to advance towards the three remaining foes. As he walked, he yelled "Rally, men! Rally! Surround the perfidious fiends who claim to fight in the name of God. Their day of judgement has come, and it is our duty to make sure that they arrive on time!" It was Lothar's hope that the remaining Republic and Templar soldiers who were able would surround the Papal soldiers and bring justice for their fallen comrades.

Carnival of Chaos - Aneura Shivan

"Pendulums," Aneura whispered to herself, keeping her shield held close to her shoulder side, "Moreso, guillotines I should say." Aneura narrowed her eyes and looked forward into the gauntlet's pathway, trying to make out as much as she could from within the darkness. Taking it slowly, she moved her towards her front, readying it to be moved into either direction -left or right- if she saw one of the pendulums approaching her from the darkness. They seemed large enough that her shield may do very little, but at the very least it was better than taking the force of it all with her body alone.

Time was of the essence, and she kept track, but there was no wisdom in rushing this mission. She could only hope the others weren't experiencing as dangerous a task. Slowly but surely, Aneura took careful steps forward, making sure that she wasn't walking straight into the path of a pendulum. With each glint of steel she saw, Aneura marked the time, and counted how long it took for each one she saw to make its back across her path. If she timed it right, she could simply walk past each, knowing well where they were and when they would come. Nevertheless, she still took her time, step-by-step, making her way to the end of the pavilion.

The image of noose-hung children managed to keep her nerves calmed even in the midst of innumerable guillotines swinging about; only rescue and success was on her mind. Deeper into the darkness she went, hoping continually that the vile illusionist wouldn't dare throw a wild card her way and manifest a pendulum she hadn't accounted for or seen prior to approaching.

Sarah's Request



Kasim knelt down and invaded the dwarven mind of his chosen connection with a natural skill that comes from his natural talent, and almost immediately finds himself swimming in a sea of thought. It was ordered so clearly that it almost felt like a library, but before Kasim could even attempt to metaphorically make that connection he felt the assault on his own mind begin. He caught images of a being pallid of skin with a face that... *flicker* the perspective changed and he saw through another dwarves eyes as it fought against the monstrosity in the shadow. Many limbs striking and hissing its insectine voice mocking those who enter the barrow of the master.

The last thing Kasim saw before he was forced to break the connection lest the malignant being controlling the dwarf took him over was eight eyes and far too long fangs descending towards the other dwarf's face.

Meanwhile Ein's shoved one of the levers forwards, luck guiding her hand as she shoved the one on the right, the portcullis door winched open and she could see within. A glowing protective pentagram lay on the floor in front of a fogged mirror water cascading from somewhere above revealing the next surprise. Blood and a dead dwarf slumped against the wall with large webs everywhere.

And something else unexpected. A small bag of gold down by the portcullis's now open entryway.

---

Carnival of Chaos



Cristoff made contact with the mirror to try and find out what happened and discovered what would happen instantly, and unexpectedly. Suddenly he was in a ring of mirrors. Each of them with the slightly different frame. There was no clear way out, touching another Cristoff found himself transported again. Realising there was a pattern to them it didn't take him long to find a pattern to it. He knew it was leading him towards the end of the challenge, this strange hall of mirrors.

And then suddenly, the feeling left him. He found himself suddenly without light in what he could feel was a close enclosed space a hissing sound could be heard nearby, a thousand reflected lights appeared in the mirrors, not strong enough to light up the area, but clear enough for Cristoff to realise it was a burning fuse. All he had to do was find the right one...

...

Meanwhile Aneura in the hall of pendulums waited, studying the pattern. It proved to be a relatively easy task for the first two groups of pendulums before suddenly the pattern changed. New pendulums were moving, from the walls, from the floor moving in less predictable vectors and Aneura nearly lost her head as one left a thin red score across her right cheek as one passes far far too close.

And the clock was ticking down. Aneura could see that the pendulums were quicker and more numerous, but doable, but that up ahead there was a fork, a choice to make. Left, or right.

...

Hanus found himself confronted by a dark parody of a circus. Nightmarish clowns moving around in pantomime as skeletal customers grinned skeletal grins from the audience stands. A mostly starved bear danced to the tune the clowns had playing. And yet. For the life of him Hanus couldn't see the immediate challenge. It was not nearly as apparent as he'd expected.

And then he realised it.

He was the 'lion' in the lion tamer act.

With a savage growl he began his act. Jumping through the hoops as his 'trained' demanded. He studied the events around him as the illusion cracked his whip and made him do tricks like some sort of performing animal. And then something came to his nostrils after about half the allotted time, towards the back of the tent.

Gunpowder burning. He wasn't playing anymore. Instead he ripped through the flimsy material and found it, several crates of explosives with their gunpowder fuses burning intently. Enough to level a quarter of the town instead he charged in and started ripping the fuses from the explosives.

...

Tristan Whitemarch proceeded over to the Galerie le Tournage and smiled, a shooting gallery. He prepared his weapon as the 'attendant' brought him "right up." The smell of gunpowder potent as he prepared for the game, "Look here sonny, you get a bullseye you get the surprise, you miss, and you get another surprise, then you get another shot. Got it?"

"Got it." Tristan remarked as he levelled his weapon to his shoulder and aimed carefully. On firing the shot went well and truly wide. And then CRACK! A shot spat out from the display and punched through the meat of his shoulder with all too much effectiveness. So the game truly was dangerous.

Reloading painfully he took careful aim once more and this time he missed by a fraction of an inch. A bullet punched out from the display and ripped through his lungs in return. Coughing up blood he knew he couldn't afford to miss again as he reloaded his weapon. Aiming carefully he fired a third time. The round punched through the stand holding the display up and the world went white. A shot from the display punched through his heart and he lapsed down dead.

The display crumbled around him as the fuses on the explosives continued to burn. There would be no stopping this one. A voice whispered into Tristan's ear as his last breaths were drawn, "I always hedge my bets."

With an almighty roar the explosives went off and a quarter of the illusion vanished along with quarter of the town as the powerful bomb went off. A poignant message to the others that mistakes couldn't be afforded.

Sarah's Request

---

Kasim pulled his hand back from the dwarf's head as if it burned him, drawing in a hissing breath through his teeth. He backed away from the pile of dwarves and wights and pulled his glove back on before addressing Naream, who was the only one of the group that he could see. "I was not expecting that. First I got into some thoughts that were..." Kasim sketched a vague square in the air with his right hand, his brows drawn together in a classic expression of confusion. "Too orderly. Most people's heads are like big piles of paper and garbage. This one was like a book, with one of those lists that tells you where to find certain information. I also saw a pale face that didn't seem very human, but I didn't get a good look at it. Then it switched and I was in another dwarf's head while it fought some kind of giant insect I think, eight eyes and too many legs and huge fangs, and it said something about 'the barrow of the master' before I had to pull away." He was shaking visibly by the time he finished, and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before speaking on.

"It felt like something was attacking my mind, probably that thing with the strange mind and the pale face. I guess that it was trying to take control of me like it has with these dwarves, that it was the master the insect thing was chittering about, and you," he turned round to find Andrea and pointed at her, "were probably right about it being a mind flayer, I think." He noticed the dagger she was holding and frowned, though it disappeared almost instantly to make way for an expression of grave seriousness that was accompanied by a slow nod. "Smart thinking. I guess this means you're the ruthlessly competent member of the group, just as I suspected." Kasim slipped back into his slightly too eager way of speaking just as quickly as he'd become serious. "Anyway, given where we are and what I saw, I figure the insect thing was a giant spider and that it, and probably many others, serve the mind flayer or whatever it is that's the master of this place. We've got a proper adventure on our hands now, with dangerous ruins and even more dangerous monsters who serve a yet more dangerous master. This is going to be fun."

Turning round once more to face Naream, Kasim gestured down at the dwarves. "I guess we'll just have to tie them up or knock them out, probably toss their weapons over the edge just in case they wake up or get free. I can help your undead friends with that if they can't handle it, and so can-" He cut himself off and looked around again, talking to himself. "Where's what's her name? The one with the armor? Wait, Eins, that was it." Kasim spotted her down at the end of the bridge opposite where they'd come in, and saw that the way forward was now open in front of Eins. He let out a sound that was something like a choked off scream, a loud gurgling that somehow managed to convey both fear and anger. Once the awkward sound was out of the way, Kasim called out to her urgently. "Armor lady! Eins! Stop! People who go on ahead of the rest of the group always end up setting off traps or waking up monsters. Come help us deal with these dwarves, then we can keep moving ahead safely together." In truth he was more concerned with the idea that the woman might do something brave and become the hero of the group and thus the focus of the story this adventure would spawn before Kasim had a chance to cement that place for himself, and appearing to be very concerned with the well being of the other members of the party would make him a nice and sympathetic hero. He hadn't exactly lied about how he viewed the dangers involved with forging on alone, but it was mainly a convenient reason to call her back without revealing his true motivation. Heroes were allowed to skirt the truth for a good cause, after all, so Kasim felt no guilt whatsoever for doing so now.

Though no words were exchanged between the goblin and himself, the lead had been set, and the ball was in taxilus' court to play. He raised an eyebrow at first. Pondering what Kraith hoped him to do, but a glint in the goblin's eye told him "Anything" he cleared his throat a bit, amd nearly took a swing at the back of Kraith's head before making a move.

 Moving casually to the guard's side, Traxilus racked his brain in an attempt to bring up a suitable conversation topic. Ten thousand years of active duty had left him.... rusty with the opposite sex and advances he once would have felt as natural. "Sooo... how long have you been traveling as a royal escort?"

 The guard seemed amused by the question. "Time has no bearing on duty."

 A sad kind of smile crept onto his face. He felt a soft hand grip his heart, and a soft sigh escape his lips. "That is a concept I find myself very familiar with. I find it odd that one touched by as few summers as you can find herself so dutiful."

 "Duty is all that separates us from total chaos and death." She states plainly. "... But I thank you for the compliment, male." A sly smirk reaches her lips. Either she found him attractive or humorous... Perhaps both.

 "There were others that I knew once, who felt the same. They were stronger than I was, to be sure, but as they found chaos around them despite a fierce duty, they abandoned that duty and prayed for death..." Faces of friends raced through his mind, he wondered how they had managed upon their release, and if they had found freedom as relieving as they had hoped it would be. "Though given enough time I suppose anyone might do the same."

 "Not I." The amazon stated without a hint or doubt in her voice.

 "I doubt you're faith has been tested for ten millenia, but who am I to truly judge how old anyone is." He said with a quick glance up and down her figure

 She chuckles, then purrs in approval at how forward his advances seemed to become. "We only live for thirty years, old man."

 "Then there's so much you might miss out on if you don't seize the opportunities." He said as his eyes finally locked on hers.

 "Mmm..." She licks her lips, briefly hesitating to look back at the Queen's tent. "..." She sighs... Then grabs Traxilus by the collar of his shirt. "I can always take watch and care from inside the tent..." She growls playfully.

 Traxilus grabs her by her hips and draws her closer "Why bother? I'm sure the two of us out here would ward off any would be intruders, or at least shift the focus of their interest."

 She wraps her arms around his neck and nips his lower lip in play. "Oh, how... Open of you." She smirks, tracing a finger down his spine. "I am not, though... And I would be distracted out here, with you... Mmm... Inside would be better."

 Trax slid one of his hands down her thigh and then all the way back up to her chin, returning some of the play. "Well then if you're more comfortable, I suppose the tent is a close second."

 She responds by pulling on his collar towards the tent impatiently. It seemed there was no saying no to an Amazon now...

Royal Blood - Rayvon and Ceann

---

Rayvon pauses for a moment on her preparation to leave when new information begins to stumble out. Her lip curls ever so slightly as she fights back an irritated sneer. Raising a hand to her head, she gradually works down to simply shaking her head. So far, with talks of a ghost, these strange fiery arrows and the glyphs things were a mess. As well, it would seem Penelope herself was a mage, only adding to things. With a cough, she steps forward when Auric fails to answer Penelope. “If you wish, you can accompany Ceann, Mikan and myself. I mean no offense to the men, but I would like a chance to talk with you myself. I promise I am not... Quite, as abrasive as I can appear.”

Penelope doesn't seem too certain as to whether or not to go with them. She looks at Auric one more time before sighing and nodding. "One way or another... So long as I am away from here, for a while." She then looks at Rayvon and seems to return to her more quiet nature, looking back down at the floor.

She moves closer to Penelope's side, ducking down enough to try and catch Penelope's gaze. “Perhaps I have been gone from home too long, it upsets me to see another as downtrodden as yourself. Perhaps some fresh air and company will do you well? While...” for a moment, she holds the strangest urge to sing her next words, “We're off to see the wizard?” She barely fights it back, her eyes cast sidelong at Mikan. Perhaps it was that woman's painful exuberance that seemed to ooze from her very being getting to her.

Mikan giggles and sticks her tongue out at Rayvon like a child would. Penelope continued to evade the gaze of the damaged woman, though. It seemed that she wouldn't be magically won over... That, or she was being stubborn. Mikan taps her foot impatiently.

Ceann tries to give a comforting smile and nods, joining Rayvon, nodding to Penelope. "We can be good company and fresh air will do most people a world of good, especially if they might have been cooped up inside for so long." In a cage of stone and wood she almost added but refrained from doing so. "We can ensure your protection of course beyond these walls if you would like to accompany us." She said instead.

Rayvon chuckles and nods, “That we can.” She bows at the waist, offering out a hand, “If Her Majesty would excuse my insolence, would you please join me for a stroll?” She turns back at Mikan and cannot help but stick her tongue back out in turn. “Maybe Ms. Greenfox will delight us with a grande comedic display as well.”

Penelope looked at the whole display with a bit of confusion. It just seemed so... Forced. Almost like someone forced them to do it, at such a pace even as to shame even a tempest. Alas. She manages a small smile, and grasps Rayvon's hand. "I agree to your terms, if you will tell me of Renalta while we walk."

She smiled, eager to get out of this confining place and follows the both of them, walking on the other side of Penelope. "I can join in with tales of other lands, for I cannot tell much of Renalta, I was still much of a stranger there when I arrived. But I have wandered far and wide so as I said, if you wish to hear of places besides Renalta I am happy to provide with such tales. From the Free Holds, the Kingdom of Tuleria and from Rheinfeld is where I traveled the most."

“Oh, but one thing at a time, Ceann...” she draws herself upright, leading Penelope gently, “There is much to talk about on our trip.” As they start to clear the throne room, she looks sidelong at the princess, “So, perhaps to make this fair... We should take turns. Ask a question, we will answer... And then we will ask one. Does that sound fair, Lady?”

"... Well... Okay." She almost seemed nervous with answering more questions, but sighed and went with it anyway. Mikan on the other hand had an auspicious silence about her. She looked off in the direction Xavier had gone. "Hm..." Penelope looks at Ceann and Rayvon. "... Is Renalta... Really ruled by two queens? That are actually... Married?"

Her eyebrows shoot up at that question. How could Penelope not know, she thought it was the job of royalty and politicians to be well informed of their nearby 'threats.' “Actually, yes. Queen Kouri and Alexandria. Kouri seems far more natural when it comes to truly ruling and, well, being political. She is... As beautiful as the legends say, truly.” She hesitates for a moment, “Alexandria can be far more brash, or so I hear...” She looks at Penelope, gauging her reaction with her next words, “They are a well loved couple in Renalta... Though, I think their children, the twins, are even more loved at times.”

"Ah..." She says under her breath. "I... Don't get out of Liveria... Much... At all." She voluntarily says as Mikan interjects on her behalf. "Liverian nobility and royalty take great care not to let their children be affected by outside influences until they reach adulthood."

She blinked, surprised at hearing this but then mulled it over, she had no memory of her own childhood or how she was raised but then, it stands to reason that every country in the world had their own methods of raising their children. But keep them confined from the outside world and what lay beyond the borders just seemed so.. .strange to her. She just kept listening, she was learning more herself with what she was hearing now.

Rayvon's lips twitch into a weak expression, “Of course. I had nigh forgotten so much of the customs here, it has been so long since I practiced any of them...” She shakes her head sadly, “I would have thought you an adult by now, though. Perhaps you might accompany us to Renalta after all this. It would be a good I think. Mayhaps some of the tension between the kingdoms might alleviate...” Her hand tightens lightly at that hope. “Ah, but I believe it is our turn for a question...” She looks around, checking there are none about before inquiring, “Have long have you been gifted as a mage?”

"Not gifted... Trained... Hard." She says, pride apparent in her voice. "Five years ago is when I began training." After a moment of concentration, she manages to summon a small spark of flame, but only for a brief moment. Even then, it was apparent that her "mastery" over fire was quite limited. "What is Renalta, the capital, like? Is it quiet like Liveria?"

Smiling, Ceann answered, "No, the people there seem... alive and joyful to be so, the streets are simply alive with people, either travelling through or going by the merchant stalls. I arrived at the capital just as markets were opened, so many people wandering about, talking, laughing. It was just alive." She chuckled, "Truth to be told, at times one would crave silence so I was happy to be allowed to travel here with the Queen's blades." Though this oppressing silence was also getting to her now. There was also a flash of a thought when she saw the flame in Penelope's hand, but she had to think on it further.

Rayvon smiles slightly, raising a hand and letting a dance of holy light dance across her hands, “I've some training myself, albeit, this sort comes a little naturally to me. I'd be hopeless to try anything with fire...” she listens to Ceann quietly, “Its such a stark contrast, one could hardly believe the two are neighbors sometimes.” She blinks, “I remember one day, they were holding a festival. I can't remember what it was, but everything was so vibrant and merry.” She hesitates for a moment before asking her next question, “Princess... Have you...” she looks side-long at Ceann, uncertain to be asking this, before biting her lip, “Have you word of my mother?”

She blinks in confusion. "No, I do not know you... My father might know that sort of thing, I have only training in how to handle the affairs of state, no official experience."

She frowns, withdrawing her hand, “Oh, I had hoped you might know her fate... She is... was a witch hunter.” Rayvon rubs along her cheek, “Perhaps when this is all sorted out, I might ask the Crown-Prince... It is your question again, I suppose.”

She frowns. "What was your mother's name?"

Rayvon furrows her brow before answering quietly, “Adylaide... Adylaide Krayvitch.”

"I see..." She says. There was no hint that she knew anything personally. "I could try asking my father later... When he is not engrossed in the advisor's company." A genuine look of anger follows.

“Pardon my intrusion, but why does this advisor stir such disfavor from you? In fact, there is much about this advisor that does not add up, at least to me. Would you be so kind as to enlighten us?” she asks, a hand cautiously reaching to place reassuringly on the princess' shoulder.

"A woman that appeared some time ago, with... Golden skin, like that of desert people." Well, at least she was aware they existed. "Many things... Do not add up, as you say. She came from nowhere. I have no idea what her previous life was or why a complete foreigner has been allowed to stay." Already it seemed that Penelope was frustrated. Perhaps that was why her fingers started to glow red...

Rayvon looks at her more seriously, eyes hardening for a moment... Before noticing the fire. “Penelope... I do believe it is your turn. Have you another question of Renalta or Kouri?”

"... Not right now... Maybe later..." It seemed the advisor was an especially soft point... Perhaps it was time to move on and give her some space for a while.

Rayvon hesitates before moving quickly to get ahead of Penelope, walking backwards to look her head on. “I've some worries, Princess... And, I would actually like to try something, if you would indulge me.”

"... What would you like to try?" Penelope says with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

The aasimar looks at her, a brief moment of embarrassment crossing her face and tinting her cheeks, “You can see I am part angel, yes? There is, something my father once told me of. A... A breath, he called it. That could help those in need.”

"I... Ah... Hardly know you." Penelope says, recoiling away from what was most assuredly a strange request.

She furrows her brow before nodding, turning away, “It was not a move on my part to elicit inappropriate contact, my lady. I am just concerned of foul play.”

"...explain." Penelope asks, in a manner reminiscent of her father.

Rayvon adjusts her gauntlet before sighing, “This mysterious woman from foreign lands appears out of nowhere and appears to have set herself high up in the chain of things without to much as a trouble. All with your father apparently assisting her instead of the other way around. Furthermore, all this happens... It leaves many a loose ends. My concern is that there may be some corrupting influence affecting your family, and I intended to remove such shackles, should they be there... Merely a foolish thought, perhaps. But I would rather spill breath on the side of caution than ignoring such possibilities.”

Penelope blinks in confusion. She had no idea what this woman meant. "... But how can you remove corruption?" She asks curiously.

She hesitates for a moment, trying to work it out in her head, “That breath I told you about, in... relinquishing some of my own, I can draw out the corruption, taking it into myself...” Rayvon indicates over herself, “Part angel, remember? It should not affect me as much.” Mentally she adds on, 'I believe.'

Penelope thinks it over for a moment, biting her lip as she mulls it over in her mind... Eventually, however, her Livarian nature proves stronger than her curiosity. "No. It can wait until later, possible, but not here. Not now. I simply don't know you well enough to trust you."

Nodding, Rayvon answers, “Understood, Princess. 'Twas a foolish idea anyways.”

Sarah's Request

Eins Nimgrud

---

The portcullis opened without too much trouble. To be honest, she had expected it to be stuck halfway or just creak without really moving much.How old exactly was this place and who was maintaining it? It was a bit strange to see there were two levers for the entrance however. It was like seeing a door with two knobs. Perhaps one was for opening and one was for closing it.

As she took a step forwards, a glint of metal caught her eye. Yellow metal, gold, the currency of the realms. A grin lit up her face immediately, though she suppressed it just as quickly. Why she was just far enough ahead of the group to quietly pick up the bag without them noti-

"Armor lady! Eins! Stop! People who go on ahead of the rest of the group always end up setting off traps or waking up monsters. Come help us deal with these dwarves, then we can keep moving ahead safely together."

Bollocks. The ranger noticed her. And to be honest, she was safer with monsters surrounding her than with those two spider worshiping, dirt eating, manky drows. It was a pity he was ignorant of drows and their dark ways. Eins would have just picked up the gold, and just tried to bluff her way out if anyone asked, but her attention strayed away from the glint of gold just long enough to notice what was in the room beyond. Some sort of circle with shapes on the floor, a mirror just behind it, and the dead dwarf. A dead dwarf covered in webbing. A large monstrous spider lurked somewhere, one powerful enough to hold out against a dwarf.

She picked up the gold bag as discreetly as possible, before replying back at the ranger, "Just a moment, I need to investigate this room and make sure its safe."

Edging into the room slowly, she held her sword at a diagonal to the ground, ready to make a quick move should whatever killed the dwarf suddenly attack. She moved over to the mirror, ignoring the circle drawn on the floor as she did so. The dead dwarf may have something that might help them on this errand of theirs.