"The pleasure is mine. Sir Von Kruber."

Though smiling, Jazdia's violet eyes watchfully fixed on the Baron. The bowl had been set aside, almost empty, with its utensil perched nicely atop it. She heard the whisper alright, but ignored it. This place was still a madhouse no matter how friendly the reception was, and as long as a such state remained maintained, she had no desire to be the one who break the facade.

"It was just you, Master Cedar." the elf spared a moment of her attention to the bear-man and shrugged.

"Interesting you mentioned something about guess." she continued, reaching for the napkin to wipe her lips and palm. Despite the use, the piece of cloth remained folded in a cone shape fold, but now had its pointy end directed at the Baron. "I will be more upfront with you. We are here for one of your guests who arrived here six, or seven days ago. Important person-- so obviously he had several escorts with him, keeping him safe, or perhaps they were with him to prevent him from taking another path?"

The elf leaned on her chair, still seizing the nobleman with her piercing glance. "Blonde. Blue eyes. Roughly in his mid-teen. Do you still remember this particular guess?"

---

Solomon sat at the table with only minuscule amounts of food on his plate. He wasn’t terribly familiar with the customs of barons, and emissaries, but that didn’t really matter for the most part during their interaction. Baron Otto von Kruber seems eager to please. Quickly calling for a doctor, preparing the feast of a breakfast, and striking up conversation. He was very prideful of his farmlands, which Solomon would agree given the display of food on the table. It was rather short notice for such amounts of food. Then again, given Otto’s physique, it wasn’t a stretch for his kitchens to be used to preparing such large quantities of food.

Solomon waited as the others began to slowly start to eat, taking notice that they hadn’t done so until the baron had consumed his slice of bread. Solomon wasn’t too worried about poison, well aware that most if not all toxic concoctions would not affect him. However, despite the food already collected on his plate, he had not taken a bite himself. The smell was enticing, and he was sure it would have great flavor if the reactive expressions of his colleagues were to be believed.

Solomon sat at the table, choosing to remain cautious. This was the keep that not only detected his shadows, but had destroyed them effortlessly. It was this caster that Solomon keep August outside of the city limits. And anything short of a command would keep the shadows from entering. The shadow sent to search for Cedar returned shortly before the party had left for the northern gate. Understandably, it had no desire to return to the keep. For now, both it and messenger from Pesti remained with August. They waited for some kind of signal to call them forth. August was eager to tear down the walls of the city and let the thorns that remain lay claim.

Instead of the current conversation which Solomon assumed people were making to keep up appearances, his eyes slowly drifted about the room. As a standard dining hall with rich decor and fine fabrics, not much could be really accessed as out of the ordinary. His hood helped to obscure where he was looking. As he continued his futile search for some kind of clue, something felt off. Having spent countless hours listening for the soft words of the passing spirit, something similar drifted through his ears. Where it was coming from was impossible to tell, but there was something though fleeting.

Solomon wasn’t the only one to hear it. Cedar, who up until now appeared rather uncomfortable, spoke aloud asking about it. It was bold to speak out about it, but breakfast was going to be cut short for one reason or another.

“If there are whispers, I wonder if they are echoes of the other inhabitants within the keep?” said Solomon shortly following Jazdia’s dismissal of his concern. He attempted to make it sound as he acknowledged cedar, while at the same time giving a possible excuse for the baron to play should he be aware of what the whispers truly were. Solomon did not believe the whispers to be benevolent.

Cedar winced inwardly.

This elf woman clearly could not take the hint that he was being turned wrongside out by these temptations at the table, and needed a diversion very very badly. Better still, a reason to end the breakfast, and get away from it entirely.

"Muh apologies" he droned placidly, trying very hard to avoid letting his frustrations enter the tone. "Mebbie I's not used tuh bein indoors. Mebbie it bein autumn, an all. Fughet I said anythung."

'Do you want me to spell it out for you woman? I'm about to break, and it will be a spectacular shitshow. Is that what you want? Is it? No? Then stop playing grabass with the fat bastard, and get this shit away from me before that happens!' He raged inwardly. Letting those thoughts burble under the surface was both dangerous and cathartic at the same time.

He resumed his desperate search for a means of evading the trap that was still closing around him, when he became aware of Reinhold, seated next to him. He had been entirely too preoccupied with trying to keep his fragile self control in line that he had not really registered the old hunter's stealth in taking the opposite end of the bench. He looked at him with the corner of his eye, andbsaw a man with a smoulderimg expression that spoke volumes-- The man was having just as much 'fun' at this table as he himself was.

An idea flicked into his head, then he discretely nudged the hunter's boot with his foot, momentarily getting his attention. He furtively cast his eyes at his plate then back at the man, making a pleading expression with them.

'Please take some of this off my plate, and be discrete!' was the silently broadcast message.

He reached for one of the bread rolls the server had placed there, then tipped his head down and away from the host, giving a false facade of trying to put it in his mouth without causing a scene, but instead, discretely passed it to thebold hunter, who's scowl became confusion.

He did his best to quickly cast his eyes back toward the mountain of food on the table then back again, with a plaintive expression for the man, trying despetately to communicate his predicament. Reinhold still looked confused, but accepted the roll and subtly pocketted it under the table.

Cedar's gut protested having the bread pass that close to his face, as its freshly baked aroma hit him between the eyes, giving out an audible gastric growl.

Reinhold's confused expression flattened into deadpan understanding.

"Muh apolagies again" he muttered demurely. "I's clearly hungrier an I though'." He deflected. "Vury fine cookin'. Muh compliments."

His paw visibly shook beneath the table.

"We would greatly appreciate it if you could indulge us about this guest." the hunter covered smoothly. "His companions as well, if you be so courteous."

As Kaito was talking with the baron a strange whisper reached his ears. For a moment he thought he was imagining it as his focus was clearly on the baron but when Cedar brought this topic up the fox was convinced he had heard it too. For a moment he tried to focus on these whispers and turned his invisible fox ears to the direction he heard it from but every time he convinced himself he had found the right direction the sounds just faded away.

Much time to think about these strange whispers wasn’t given as the Elf jumped straight to the point and the bear looked like he was desperately trying to not jump into a feeding frenzy. Hopefully Cedar could keep himself under control for a little longer. The baron had some questions to answer. ”O boy, miss Jazdia is jumping straight to business again.” Said Kaito as he smiled at the baron. ”It would be really helpful if you’d answer the misses her questions.” Spoke the fox as he infused his words with his charm magic.

[GM Post]

"Whispers?" The baron's brows raised before scrunching together, trying to figure out what's going on there. He... couldn't figure it out. It's vague enough that he felt like it's an illusion born of his own mind. Well, whatever. He didn't know what Asevor's planning so he'll just go with the flow. "I'm not really sure. I couldn't tell if I'm actually hearing something or my mind made it up after you said so."

He shrugged, returning to the conversation at hand as Sir Jurgen insisted strongly to.

"I..." For a moment there Otto's brain traitorously whispered for him to tell the truth. Then self-preservation kicked in and he returned to his usual gear, cursing at how deceptive one's own mind could be. "I'm afraid I hadn't got another guest aside from Mister Aster recently. That was very specific details though? Where did you get the information?"

Right at that moment, the whispers seemed to abandon all pretense as it intensified. As if leading a prey by the nose before springing an ambush, those who intently listened was assaulted with a cacophony before a strong wave of drowsiness washed over them. Solomon and Veronica, being undead, was immune to the effect. Jazdia and Matilda both didn't even paid it any attention and only heard something akin to a low-volume scream before it abruptly cut off, as paradoxical as it was. The baron's head listed off to the side, out like a particularly thick log. Chounan, Yvonne, and Reinhold almost simultaneously faceplanted on their plate, no different than the baron himself. The sight repeated all over the room, crash and clang of cutleries and whatnot echoing as most of the servants also seemed to be knocked right out.

A creak and dull thud marked the exit closing, followed by a telltale heavy clicking of the locking mechanism. Meanwhile, Jazdia's piercing gaze would spot a large movement as the men on the third floor marched down the stairs, with one particularly large specimen bounding his way down much faster than the methodical march of the rest of the group.

A lone man in the second floor carefully closed a wooden box, the whispers seemingly ceased at the exact moment the lid went shut. Then he strolled to the stairs, behind the large man but ahead of the soldiers.

So much for a peaceful breakfast, eh? Perhaps the sleepyheads can be shaken awake before they missed the party.

The bear's head swam, shapes distorted, and the whispers became a deafening cacophony from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Mere moments later, he awoke with a start face-down in the fancy oatmeal he had been served. Lightly salted with butter and honey, with crunchy streusel and black currant jam on top. It had invaded his mouth and nostrils, and had his entire face coated up to his ears, where he had fallen in face first. 500lbs of bear, fallen in, face first.

The table setting was in shambles where the cereal had slopped over the sides from the sudden ursine addition, and plates and cutlery had gone airborne after being catapulted by his left arm slamming down limp on the table beside it.

A section of wall behind bore the remains of a platter of over-easy eggs, their yellow yolks oozing down the plastered edifice, while the nearby tray of thick cut bacon was completely unharmed.

"GUH! NO NONONONO!" Bellowed the bear amid bubbles and a spray of oatmeal, as he fumbled blindly on the table for something to wash the offensive comestibles from his maw and visage. Blindly, he grabbed a ewer at random, and poured the contents, before roaring louder, and much more bear like, as a bright red fruit punch doused him, staining his face bright pink and leaving a terrible mess.

"Guhaaa! NOOOO I' BURNS!" [Roar]

He quickly stood away from the table in a blind stumble, sending the bench backward with a loud scrape, and the table forward with a jostle andvratyle of plates and glasses.

He repeated the desperate, blind clamor at the table, this time successfully obtaining the serving ewer full of water, then vigorously and grotesquely washing his face and mouth out in the poured stream, before ending with a disgustingly strong exhalation through his nostrils that sent trapped oatmeal out in a viscous spray, followed abruptly by a vigorous headshake that sent saliva chasing it afterward in the air.

The horrible spectacle ended just as abruptly, leaving a snot nosed bear with red eyes and stained facial fur boggling and trying hard to remember what the hell had just happened.

Blinking behind very irritated eyes that had just moments before been subjected to a wash with what smelled and tasted like elderberry wine, he examined the toom. The elf woman was looking at him in stark horror, while the sedate doctor solomon merely wiped strewn spittle from the side of his forehead with an amused smirk. Veronica's eyes were glittering black pits, in a stony marble face, festooned with what was probably once oatmeal.

He looked around the table quickly, noting several others face down on their plates.

'So it werent just me' he mused to himself, while still fighting back the panic of near drowning, and resuming the visceral battle of will to avoid returning face down onto the breakfast table.

"Wadda hells jus' happen!?" he bellowed. "I's been tryin' ta FUGGIN AVOID goin's all face-daown in muh damn dinner, an sum sunsabitch goes an' plunks me innit anuhways!? I'll KEEL im! ... ... I gots it up muh damn nose!"

"We noticed."

Veronica's cold deadpan tone could have shattered every goblet at the table.

Jazdia was so damned sure the food wasn't spiked she could literally bring it to her restaurant and it would pass quality control by Anderson himself. So what gives? Either the Baron knew their MOs and deliberately set up the serving. She looked up, the danger was closing in, but as her sight descended back to the current room he saw a wizard incanting some spell from a wooden box on the second floor. So either spiked or the place was filled with paralyzing hexes.

The big guy started to collapse, but then struggle to shake it off, causing a ruckus on the table and even more when he bellowed before attempting to wash off the mess from his muzzle, which caused even more clamor.

At this point, between the host and the guest, whoever violated the sacred hospitality was no longer discernable.

"We noticed."

"About time." She murmured. An arrow, enchanted with less-than-usual-magic embedded itself on the floor near the door. Acting as a trip mine.

"Wadda hells jus' happen!?" he bellowed. "I's been tryin' ta FUGGIN AVOID goin's all face-daown in muh damn dinner, an sum sunsabitch goes an' plunks me innit anuhways!? I'll KEEL im! ... ... I gots it up muh damn nose!"

"Snort it out. We've got more company to entertain us."
Another arrow nocked on her bow. Realizing that they were not in optimal number, Jazdia kicked Rosenving's chair, causing the sleepy noblewoman to fall over.

Cedar scowled, then turned his head and snorted loudly again, this time discharging the remaining foreign matter discretely at the floor, before examiing the room for items he could improvise into a billy club, or just straight up use.

There were decorative rapiers installed on the wall near some colorful curtains on the other side of the table. There was a long but altogether too thin wooden dowel holding them above the window. It would likely break on the first hit.

He turned his head and looked behind. There was another decorative weapon stand, with several long but dusty pole arms poking out of it, and a lonely kukri knife hanging high above on the wall.

He shoved the bench toward the wall, and claimed the latter two items, leaning on the pole arm like a staff, while tucking the kukri into the belt sash of his robes.

Kaito had expected the baron to spill it all out but much to the fox’s surprise he kept his composure. Was that turd at the end of the table able to resist his magic by his own will power? Or was someone else mind controlling him? There could be some powerful magic at play. The latter explanation certainly would bruise Kaito’s ego a bit less.

However what happened next was certainly unexpected. Suddenly the baron and many others at the table started to drop like flies, face forward in their plate of food into a deep slumber. The fox could not happen but to let out a big yawn. But as he was about to close his eyes he shrugged the effect off. Maybe it was because he did not give the whispers his full blown attention or maybe he was just naturally more resistant to such types of magic being an ancient mythological creature and all.

Before Kaito had any chance to assess the situation a mixture of porridge, bear saliva and other foods came flying into his direction. Cedar had woken up from his slumber and was violently cleaning his fur from the food he had fallen into. As the fox whipped the porridge from his face he spoke sarcastically ”Thank you for sharing your food Cedar. Just next time don’t throw it in my face.

”The party is starting eh? Well, let's give whomever is coming a welcome they sure aren’t going to forget.” Spoke the kitsune as he threw his bowl of porridge to Chounan’s head in an attempt to wake him up.

”Everyone on your feet and against the walls. We’re going to give them what they are expecting. A table full of sleeping people.” Whispered Kaito as he created an illusionary copy of himself that was fast asleep in the chain he used to sit on. The same he did for Jazdia. Now a perfect illusionary copy of her was sleeping in the chair. At the same time he created another illusion that made a copy of wall to the left and placed it just enough in front of that wall that he and others could hide behind it.

”Jaz, can you see how many people are coming?”

Jazdia suddenly regretted giving that suggestion.

Not only the valuable food was haphazardly tossed, but now there was a bear snorting... a mixture of nasal and food matter onto the floor. Regardless of the despicableness of its owner, a dining room was supposed to be a sanctuary free from any filth and misbehavior. And now it has been soiled so badly she almost felt sorry for the Baron.

”Jaz, can you see how many people are coming?”

"Two dozen or so. It's like a bloody convention up there."

As critical as their situation seemed to be, it took those henchmen a while to descend to the second floor. Enough for Kaito to cast a spell to make a copy of themselves.

The bear stood close by, now brandishing a polearm stolen from a nearby display, instead of, you know the old-fashioned maulings and biting.

"That's very human of you. And piked weapon?" the elf groaned. "Why does everyone in this country so obsessed with polearms?!"

The breakfast went on... and on... and on... What's the baron saying? It's rather distorted, like trying to listen underwater. Speaking of the baron, he's so round. A giant hamster sat at the head of the table, munching on a piece of oversized lettuce. Then suddenly the wall broke down in a shower of rubble, where a massive lindwurm entered with a deafening roar. The oversized lizard kept roaring for a while, spittle flying all over the place like rain. Yvonne covered her face to shield it from the worst splatter, peeking once it's over to see captain and the others surrounding the beast with long pikes. It's cornered, good. The mercenary hefted her own pike, aiming for the face as she-

-fell right through the earth, into the deepest pit of the void, jolting awake just as she unceremoniously tumbled on to the cold floor.

She caught the tail end of the fox's instruction. Blinking the confusion away, her body moved before her mind fully caught up as she briskly moved and plastered her back against the wall. A glance around. Table full of sleeping people, including the baron. The table itself was a mess, as if someone had tried their best to flip the entire thing. A fast-approaching stomping from the stairs. The exit closed shut. Huh, they've been had. And if none of them started dropping from poison, the food must've been a distraction.

"Polearms are great, Sparky! Stab the foes while remaining safely far-ish away, what's not to like?"

"I prefers muh stick, bu' dis'll do. If'n I's gonna do a feller in, it gonna be done like a man. I ain't no beast girl. Ain't ya been payin' attention? I's only half bear."

He gruffed and took position near the wall opposite the others, where he would get full room to swing when cracking heads.

"O'er half's man. Don' be fergittin. We kin talks about it la'er, af'er we kicks sum good-fer-nuthin's butts."

"Naptime's o'er ol' timer. Ya kin sleep when ya dead." He huffed at Reinhold, before gently prodding him in the butt with the point of his new toy.

---

Well, Solomon was right. The whispers were nefarious. Intense whispers led to a harsh scream. Be it magic or otherwise, it gave Solomon the impression a banshee. It didn’t matter too much. He considered himself lucky. A lich never sleeps. As for the staff, the baron, and some of his party members, they fell as their minds went unconscious. For what felt like an uncomfortably long time, the room became eerily silent. And then Cedar almost drowned in oatmeal, and Yvonne fell out of her chair.

Kaito seemed unaffected by the spell as well, quickly thinking of a plan to hide, casting perfect duplicates with his illusions. Rather than hide straight into the wall, Solomon’s body became black, resembling the shadows he commanded throughout the morning, and merged within the shadows of the room, leaving not a trace of him even if the illusions were not present. He also willed for August to engage. Not to enter the keep, not for now. Instead, August was going to keep the mages dismantling Cedar’s mana pools busy. He was to stealthily restore the mana pools Cedar had planted from below the earth. By doing that, he was allowing the thorny vines to resume rapidly growing. Hopefully in this way, those mages would be too occupied to lend aid to the men inside the keep.

As for the troops already making their way down, Solomon didn’t have time to prepare any of his usual antics when it came to conflict. Appearances were made to be kept, and the enemy unknown. Furthermore, he didn’t have time to summon a more combat oriented ally. So far the only thing that kept him in the room was the unknown entity’s ability to detect shadows, and him leaving might prematurely reveal Kaito’s illusions. He wouldn’t be the first to act. If opportunity arose, he might be able to use the soldiers against themselves, if not summon another undead ally.

[GM Post]

The stomping behemoth of a man turned the last corner, a flash of rippling muscles and violently red warpaint appearing for a split second before he triggered the magical arrow. The hall shook from the shockwave, but from it the large man emerged with a bunch of laceration on the surface of his skin but otherwise looking none worse to wear.

Curiously, not a droplet of blood could be seen flowing out of the wound.

"Gahahahaha! Now that's a nice warm welcome! Come-" He blinked around, looking at a table full of sleeping people. There's a mix of actual sleepyheads and illusion, including Chounan with a bowl worth of oatmeal dripping down his head and on to his lap. "Oh COME ON, they are ALL asleep?!"

The clear disappointment was palpable in his voice as he lowered an oversized, rust-brown greataxe he was brandishing.

Hidden beneath the false wall, Yvonne had to suppress a groan as she saw who exactly had just walked in. Great. Of course it's this asshole. No wonder nobody heard about him lately, he ran off here. Would've been great if he died in a ditch somewhere, but it's plain that evil never quite dies.

"...wait, then where'd that trap comes from?"

A hulking brute of a man emerged, seemingly unscathed, from the smoke and dust of the explosion.

He was clad in little more than red warpaint and a tatty and stained loincloth, brandishing a rather oversized broad axe. For some reason, seeing an axe rankled Cedar's fur more than it should have, conjuring many memories of having to bludgeon foolish lumberjacks who had set eyes on trees they shouldn't, and bringing memories of his father lecturing him about not killing people, no matter how big of an asshole they are, unless you really and truly mean it.

("No matt'r haow big 'n dumb they is, Ya's big 'nuff ta prolly keel em in one hit if'n ya ain't careful son...")

The memory of that first day helping his dad keep order against 'poachers' strolled through his head completely unbidden.
("I's seen what yas did wit 'at deer 'odder day... Good work 'ere-- Proud a ya...")

He remembered. He had found a deer with an arrow stuck through its hock, where a village hunter had tried to shoot it, but it had bolted at the last minute, getting hit in a non-critical, and escaping with the arrow lodged in. He remembered that he had just learned how to heal injuries from Flo a few days before, and the opportunity to use the magic had been real exciting for him. He had coaxed the frightened and injured beast into letting him treat it, but was unaware his dad had been watching. His ears burned a little in embarrassment at the memory.

("But no ma'aer how good yas gets wit' 'at, no magic in'a worl' kin brings back da dead. Only keels a fucker when yas real damn good & sure. Naow, le's show 'is 'gentleman' da 'error' o' his ways, eh?")

(Only if I really and truly mean it...) he thought to himself.

Silently, he expertly flipped the pole-arm upside down, so that the blunt end was up, then aimed his shot, making a wide and hard sweep across the side and back of the man's knees. The hit had much more resistance than should have been there; like striking a stone that had a thin coating of dirt and moss. Not stopping from the anomalous impact, he continued the motion with full body momentum, whirling then bringing the bladed end down hard over the man's hands and forearms where he has holding the haft of the large axe.

(I can totally fix mangled arms and legs, Dad.) he thought bemusedly to himself, before allowing his momentum to body-check the man into the table.

The big idiot was so busy with his opening speech that somebody was making a move at him. It was Cedar; the polearm swung expertly as if the entire country's penchant for blade-on-stick was not a mere moniker, even for the most uncivilized social caste.

Not content on merely enjoying the show, Jazdia joined the fray, but with Cedar making his move and placing himself in her line of fire, Jazdia moved sideways.

The arrow was enchanted immediately, but she took a moment to scan her surrounding; The door was
there, a dozen meters or so. Still closer to them than to the enemy, and apparently locked. For now, that was the only detail she could conclude, for her eyes were already burning, and by pure instinct, the see-through vision wanes and returned to normal.

She took some more side steps toward the exit, but not too far from her team. Lurea was drawn, and the big brute was staring eye-to-eye with another, yet more beastly brute when Jazdia's arrow launched toward his neck.

Kaito watched as the hulking man entered the room. Somehow he seemed to be unaffected by the blast from the magical arrow. There were some lacerations on his body but somehow no blood was flowing from it. Something the fox found both intriguing and mildly concerning. If he doesn’t bleed that means that the big guy isn’t exactly human. So trying to go for human weak spots such as arteries might not work on him.

The kitsune continued to observe the man in warpaint as both Cedar and Jazdia started to engage him. The fox was rather curious to see if the explosive arrow to the neck would have any effect on him at all. For all he could tell for now he could be some sort of golem. If that was the case, they needed to find out where his core was located. For now Kaito chose to remain hidden in the illusion while continuing to observe the enemy combatant in order to find out where he was vulnerable to the sort of damage the fox could do with his short sword.

---

The explosion wasn’t a small one, easily breaking apart sections of the stone frame that surrounded the doorway. Yet, the man stood undeterred by the blast, perhaps even enjoying the prospect of more in the coming battle. As the dust settled, Solomon could further see just how unaffected the man was. Injured and covered in scars, but not a drop of blood. Completely unarmored, but armed, the man was eager for a fight. Jazdia’s arrows could take out a bridge, so already his resilience was intimidating.

The illusions cast from his recent friend, Kaito showed great effect. Though some of their allies were actually asleep at the table, many of them hid within the false walls. Cedar was the first to attack the muscled man, swinging the butt end of his pole arm against the flesh of the man with one swing after another. Blunt metallic pangs rang from the pole arm, but the bear’s momentum kept his assault going. Jazdia joined in the battle, firing another arrow, glowing as it flew through the air in no time towards the otherwise naked man.

Solomon was not so sure of the effectiveness of the attacks. The physical strikes of the weapons were dull, as though they struck something sturdy, as opposed to the soft fleshy pulp one would expect from being hit with the strength of a bear. Solomon slithered through the shadows of the ground until he was hidden within Kaito’s illusory wall. Even as a bear, Cedar was just as armored as his current opponent. Should he somehow withstand Cedar’s beating, Ragnar was going to devastating that that axe of his.

Solomon returned to a physical form. His shadow magic was perfect for escape, but he would be nigh useless in the battle. And then there were also others to come following the boisterous fellow. Whispering to himself, he started to build in energy as it flowed in split streams from his book into his open palm. Luckily, the narrow space of the illusory wall was able to contain it. Soft whispers emanated from Solomon’s mouth and the energy gained some luminosity as silvery and black swirls of energy mixed together.

“I call upon thee. Bartholomew of final retribution. I request your presence. Heed my command and come forth.” Solomon’s voice was almost incomprehensible as the magic distorted his words. The collective ball of black and silver shot into the ground, just outside of the illusion, unfortunate requiring more space to fully activate. The stone floor rumbled and cracked as a mound rose from underneath the granite. Debris fell to the side as a dull metallic sheen reflected the little sunlight of the nearby windows. Suddenly there was a burst of heat as the mount erupted in fire before condensing into a ball. The armor began to assemble as the figure emerged. The figure stood tall, covered in metal armor blackened and tarnished with age and tempering. A raised emblem resembling the coat of arms for the kingdom of Kindeance lay etched upon the thick pauldrons. Likewise, the colors of the surcoat also showed alignment to Kindeance. The figure’s most striking feature was it’s head. The ball of flame now replaced where a helm would be, featureless, but glowing bright white with orange hinges. The figure bent a knee, lowering himself to the ground and stabbed its arm into the mount he emerged. With a quick motion, the figure rose back, pulling out a long metal shaft with a metal head wedged at the end. Two large and wide axe blades at either side. The continued with its momentum before it came back down into the other hand of the flaming armor, wielding it with both.

“Ho ho. After all this time, you’ve finally called upon me, doctor? Have you finally found an opponent you can’t poison?” despite not having a mouth, or even a face, the figure spoke. His voice very masculine, clearly this entity once was a young man now taken the form of a tempest, an undead soul animating his former armor to endlessly seek combat. “Now where are you?”

Solomon spoke quietly as to attempt to keep the illusion from being discovered as best he could given the new circumstance, “Where I am is of no importance. The axed man fighting the bear, he is our enemy. More are coming after him. Keep them at bay, and protect our allies.”

“Say no more. I relish this opportunity.” said the tempest enthusiastically. Gripping the axe tightly with both hands, the tempest jumped onto the dining table, charging straight towards the man who hasn’t bled, yet. He yelled a heartly battle cry as he flew across the room ready to strike.

[GM Post]

"Hmm?"

The only reaction that registered the blow was a slightly surprised grunt, Ragnar's leg sliding an inch forward but that's it. The following slice produced more result, slicing into flesh yet nowhere as deep as it should. An angry red line was left, none of the blood escaping the wound. The northener himself didn't seems to be bothered at all as he recognize Cedar's ursine form, even as he's tackled with the full momentum of a bear.

That one showed more effect, Ragnar's displaced bulk slamming to the table with dull thud. The table violently slid a bit from the impact, waking the two sleepyhead with startled "huh?".

Then the arrow struck, its glimmering tips punctured through the brute's neck. Another arrow from Veronica followed, right into the eye, but with a shake of the head it missed the soft target and scored a light scratch on the forehead instead. Yet despite the supposedly fatal blow, Ragnar laughed uproariously as he let his axe go, reached, heaved, and tossed Cedar on to the armored newcomer running on top of the long table.

"Gahahaha! Not enough! Not in number, not in strength! More! Ragnar shall take you all!"

The northener reached down to grab his axe when Yvonne's figure bolted from the false wall, swinging the mace low through the legs with the full force of her inner strength. A meaty thud and dull snap echoed, followed by a much louder crack of the weapon's handle breaking in half. Still tapping into her strength, the mercenary kicked Ragnar back to the stairway he came from where he collapsed - and promptly get back up, no apparent discomfort despite one shin quite obviously broken inward.

"Huh, what? Oh! Mad Blade! Here for a rematch, ain't you?!"

"Piss off, you motherfucker." Yvonne rolled her eyes, grabbing the axe to slide it off all the way to the other side of the room.

Unhurried footsteps from the stairs. An old man with slick, white hair and even slicker, whiter beards came into view, his entire attire practically screaming "pompous wizard". Formal, double-breasted frock coat the color of burgundy with silken lapel, trouser of the same shade, cashmere waistcoat, immaculately shined leather boots, and a fancy purple cloak to top it off. He carried an ebony walking stick, the handle studded with various gems with more adorning the fingers in the form of various rings. Clear grey eyes surveyed the room, an illusory monocle hovering over the right side as he focused his attention on Ragnar.

"Downed already, Ragnar? I thought you northeners tougher than that."

Behind him more footsteps echoed, coming closer and closer to the room. Sounds like mundane reinforcement, but even the strongest can still be overwhelmed with sheer number.

Cedar blinked in confusion as he landed on .. ... something? ... wearing kinderance parade armor. It's head was a glowing orb of mysterious animated fire, and it smelled like something long dead. The implication that this was one of Solomon's abominations danced across his mind riding the scent like a dance partner in a rapid 2-step routine.

"Ya wan' summa dat? He harder'n he looks." He asked cheekily of the newcomer, who responded only with the impression of a 'smile' within the burning radiance that was the 'head', and a deep menacing chuckle. Cedar 'smiled' back, a rather frightful display of jagged and sharp ivory teeth that could easily have been mistaken for a snarl if not for the sparkling of his eyes and the alert and forward posture of his ears.

"Heave-Ho fella!" He chortled, grasping the abomination by the bottom of the breast plate and a pauldron, then 'lance throwing' the creature right into Ragnar the Red's arrogant visage.

He quickly looked around the room to see where he was now.

The mysterious brute of a man had flung him near the door leading in, which was conveniently behind the false wall, and a short distance to the window.

The table was a mess, but several of the beverage ewers were still standing. A man dressed like he shopped at the same store as Flo's brother, and nearly as old as his dad came tottering into view. He had learned from experience with his dad that appearances were deceiving when it came to the 'pulpiness' of such features. Sure, Vanquis was pretty spongy, but his old man was anything but. (Though the latter would only wear a getup like that around the house as lounge-wear.)

The obviousness of his being a magician registered a split-second later.

"Got a crooked ol' conjuror inna room!" he growled, hurriedly casting the well practiced spell to retune his senses to detect magic, while darting for the red linen curtains draped over the tiny window.