Drip.



The ever present puddle in the corner glimmered, lights shifting with each drop the crumbling ceiling let it. The crack of thunder barely made a sound in the chamber, the roar of water on stone somehow quieter still. Holding dark vigil for millenia, the myriad candles caught flame one by one. No hand moved to light them as they silently awoke.

In the growing light, etchings and carvings shook off the darkness of the thousands of years gone by. Tales of peace and war, love and hate, co-existence and decimation spiraled through the long sealed room. An entire people’s history preserved with each and every mistake and failure carefully documented, every corrective action noted, for review and judgment if the time ever came. Tools long abandoned lay scattered around the room, their beds of dust and dirt well caked into their cracks.

The groan that echoed through the chamber was thin and reedy, crippled with disuse. A faded bundle of cloth, once dyed in vibrant reds and golds, stirred in response to the gentle flickering flames around it. The cloth twisted and rolled as whatever was inside struggled to find the strength to stand. Metal scratched against the chamber floor, cloth rustled as it bunched and began to rise into the air. The figure spun slowly as it rose to the arched ceiling, still struggling to escape the robes it was wrapped in.

Finally, an emaciated hand forced itself through a sleeve, the other following suit. Head golden pendants set with a variety of gems hung off the robe, dulled with the passage of time, and clinked against each other as the figure tapped gently against the ceiling. A head popped through the ornate collar of his uniform and the man took a moment to blink in the bright light. Once his vision adjusted, a curse caught in his throat as he plummeted back to the floor, hitting it with a heavy thud and another groan. The man thumped his head against the floor, sighed, and slowly, slowly pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself against the wall as his leg’s trembled with exhaustion.

Still, he leaned more heavily against the wall, exchanging hands for his shoulder, and cradled his open hands in front of him. Tendrils of glittering gold curled out around his lip and he exhaled a delicate cloud of gold, as though he’d held gold powder in his mouth; tiny golden birds formed in his hand, each smaller than a thumb. A wheezing noise escaped his lips as he tried to speak to them but it was enough- the birds took flight like tiny comets and passed through cracks and wall alike, leaving him alone once more.

Bring me back a pretty song, bring me back the words of Nühl.

---

Faint purple light simmered from the crystal sconces mounted down the hallway, only the sharp click of Lady Marivaldi’s steps disturbing the eerie silence. These halls normally rang with muted activity from behind closed doors, from the horrific shrieks of the unfortunate victims of the Tome’s experiments to heated discussions of scholars as deadlines approached, but Immerila welcomed the silence like an old friend. She lived in it for centuries, her own research conducted far from the eyes of her contemporaries if only so they did not bother her. Her position rarely afforded her the luxury so she slowed her gait a touch and indulged in the rare treat.

Still, all good things come to an end. The familiar sealed door greeted her as she rounded the bend, the small red light above it exclaiming a dangerous experiment was currently underway. The call had surprised her. Sage Vazquez hadn’t suggested anything new or unusual had come into the Tome’s possession and she had been about to turn in for the day when the genius had requested her presence. She’d considered ignoring it in favor of sleep but the employment of the Vague concerned her. Immerila created it only for clear and present threats that did not yet have containment or nullification protocols and it was rare Sage Vazquez considered something threatening enough to employ the facility.

With a spell murmured into the still air and a simple gesture of her hand, heavy locks and bar groan their disapproval as they moved and air whooshed past Immerila as she slipped in. The door slammed shut with a hiss and she went through her preparations in the anteroom, changing into a sealed hazmat suit after washing and sanitizing and storing her own clothes carefully in the cabinets provided. She worked with mechanical familiarity and once again repeated the spell at the next door, following the air into the next room.

Vague consisted of three rooms - the containment room where the threat was held behind magically reinforced glass that was stronger than nearly all modern materials, an observation room on one side, and a control room on another. Immerila repeated the process at the door to the observation room, this time the airflow against her as she stepped in, and the door sealed shut. A shrill beep sounded twice in the previous room and a minute later the hiss of a deadly, high temperature gas mix filled the room to kill anything or anyone who may have contaminated the room. All basic functions of Vague were still active so Immerila turned to stare at whatever horror demanded her attention.

A golden streak of light bounced around the room. It would pause every few seconds and then continue. Even with her vampiric senses, it was difficult to see the little creature, the hummingbird-like construct far too fast. Surprisingly, the creature did not seem panicked or interested in escape. It was clearly curious, zipping around the room and examining the robotic arms at rest on the ceiling and the various restraining methods attached to the walls and the ground. Although it was certainly fascinating, Immerila could not understand why she’d been called for something that was well within the Sage’s skill set.

The intercom overhead crackled to life just in that moment, as if Vazquez could hear her doubts. “My Lady, thank you for coming with such haste. This oddity has been fascinating to observe.” The Sage’s raspy voice echoed in the pressurized chamber. “We first noticed this oddity at the end of a discussion on subject 3A-12. As is apparent, the subject is quicker and agile than most vampires so initial containment procedures failed. Upon reviewing footage through the facility, we discovered it followed the loudest voice in its environment and so lured it into Vague with the intercom system.” The creature paused, circled the room for a few seconds and the appeared at eye level of Lady Marivaldi, hovering there as its beady, golden eyes stared beyond the window as if it could hear them.

“What we know of the subject is limited. It is capable of passing through solid objects to some degree, it recognizes differences between voices and other loud noises, and is only interested in something it hasn’t heard before. The subject presents as a summoning construct, despite its clear irregularities, and can be considered an intelligence gathering device, though I have yet to determine if it records information or transmits it.” Immerila’s eyes narrowed at the creature as it sped off once more, seemingly content to flit around the room aimlessly. If it was a summoning construct… “Though the subject presents itself as a summoning construct, its existence on the premises suggests either it is a creature capable of magical ability or it is a construct fashioned in a manner our protective spells are incapable of dispelling.”

“What have you concluded?” Lady Immerila questioned, knowing full well her Sage likely ran a full battery of tests she hadn’t mentioned.

“I believe it is a Grendel construct.”

The silence was deafening. Immerila couldn’t contain her surprise at the idea. Her Sage was an outspoken opponent of Howard Grendel’s modern theories on aetheric construction. It turned all known notions of the discipline on its head but it was mostly based on speculation and calculations- the amount of power any one mage would need to create even the most basic spell was laughable. An admission like this was proof that Vazquez was genuinely at a loss for answers and that the thing in front of them was entirely alien.

---

The mission assignment was simple: rescue captive members of Dawn Rising. Having been captured some months before, Commander Ryan Agevee of Caeli Station was surprised they were in any condition to be rescued but the orders came from on high and he wasn’t paid (dead stop) to question it. Although not particularly near the imperial prison, Caeli’s long track record of successful infiltrations earned them the dubious honor of infiltrating a high security Inquisition holding facility and escaping not only with their own lives, but three others.

“Fontaine, Eve, Astoria, Contarini, and Luscin, asses in gear and in for mission assignment now!” Commander Agevee barked, barely giving the members in question the opportunity to react before he was marching back into the side room that acted as mission control in the underground complex. Inside, a detailed hand drawn outline of the building and its contents was spread out, all entrances circled in green and all trouble areas marked in red.

“Three months ago, we lost the Tiralea relay station. It only hosted ten living members and we were in the process of transferring them out, when it was ambushed by an Inquisitor. Preliminary investigations of the site marked everyone dead but we’ve learned three of those bastards were unlucky enough to survive as imperial captives.” Ryan slapped a photo on the table, a little blurred but otherwise in decent condition. “Bastards broke the rules and fucking documented themselves. Thankfully, it helps us now. Of these ten only these idiots survived.” He circled three members and crossed out the rest.

“Dylan Hardee, Marie Ruthford, and Roan Alserda. These three have been in Hasgald Holding Facility for three months. However, the Empire is transferring the resources Hagald had to another location and so is temporarily shutting the place down. Preliminary scouting showed them off loading dangerous chemicals and waste into the surrounding area. A second one revealed that the prisoners are not considered vital resources, so they’ll be executed on the last day.” Ryan revealed grimly. “So, time is not on our side. The facility is running on a skeleton crew right now. Most of the heavy moving has been done and the Inquisitor took their leave a few nights ago. As such, you’ll be dropped fifty meters off the eastern wall. Security has been all but disbanded and this is the furthest entrance from the execution area inside the central hub. They’ll dedicate their resources to the more obvious points of access.”

“Beyond that, you’ll need to reach either holding cells, torture rooms, or the execution chamber, find our targets, and reach the extraction point beyond the tree line that is about 75 meters off the western wall. There is only one point of egress once you reach here but it’s your best shot to reach me. Take some time to review the documents and memorize the faces; you leave in an hour.”

---

True to the commander’s word, the infiltration was smooth so far. Only one poor guard stumbled across the team but she was dealt with easily, stashed away in a storage closet for the time being. The stone halls of the building were void of noise and empty, doors ajar to rooms full of trash, broken bits of metal and wood, and ash. The winding passages eventually led to the point the blueprints pointed out, a central access area that branched into all areas of the prison. From here, all three areas that likely held their targets were in relatively close proximity.

In the central hub area, clinical, fluorescent lights hummed and flickered. A single elevator was in the room, a set of emergency stairs set in the wall across from them. A strange seating area, two sofas, a worn coffee table, and tall fake plants took up most of the space. Continuing past it would lead to the interrogation rooms. The blueprints showed four in a circular area, none with windows and all with one door in and out.

One level above them, they would find thirty holding facilities that were barely large enough to let a grown human lay on the ground and packed in tightly one after another. Nothing about any furniture was marked on the blueprints and none one could find any hygiene facilities either.
One level below them was the execution chamber. It was relatively large compared to the other spaces and it was reasoned that many of the prisoners were forced to fight each other or their captors, in addition to whatever other inhumane methods the Empire decided to employ.

All the while, from around the corner, a single, old camera whirred as it swept the room, stopping just before where the infiltration team had gathered to consider their next action.

---

For all their sanctimonious drivel, these rebels were certainly harder taskmasters than either of the vampires he'd had the pleasure or displeasure of serving. Quinn could remember faces, names; all of that was to be expected, but that commander had thrown him in front of a map for barely enough time to even read the first label and then expected him to retain anything about the operation. While he listened to the briefing too, mind. At least his fellow infiltrators seemed to have their bearings. Quinn had resigned himself to simply follow along until they found a wall they needed to scale or they wanted a quick getaway route. Not that he had any clue where the extraction point was aside from a vague direction of 'west'.

His unease only grew worse once they'd paused. It was necessary, he knew, to discuss a course of action rather than blunder in carelessly, but every moment he spent in stillness was another moment he had to truly analyze his surroundings. Skeleton crew or not, he was in enemy territory, just waiting for them to stumble upon him. Worse, the place gave him the creeps. It reeked of death and felt like the setting of a cheesy horror movie, like some horrifying abomination born from the tortured soul of a former inmate would burst forth from a cell any minute now and drag him away.

Wait, someone was talking. He was supposed to focus on that. The girl - Lyra, she was important, probably had authority - suggested they check the execution room first. That was... down? The map was hazy in his mind, but she mentioned 'upward' in specific, which suggested it was below them. Probably to let the blood drain off. Dedicating a whole room just to killing surely meant they employed methods more complicated (and doubtlessly more morbid) than simply putting a celepertien through their temple and calling it a day. That would definitely be the site of the horror movie scene. Or worse, the executioners could still be inside. They needed to hurry up and save those three people, then! Unless they were executed in their cell- Oh, orders!

But she just called him Quintus. Understandable, given she'd probably just been given his name by whoever bothered to keep track of the roster in Caeli, but it put him on edge all the same. His eyes drifted to the camera that swiveled dangerously close to their position. Someone could be listening. He didn't want to be Quintus while he consorted with these upstart terrorists. It wasn't exactly a common name, and it would take more than dyeing his hair a stupid color to erase himself. He couldn't be seen next to enemies of the state looking like her. Preferably, he'd never be seen at all, but if he was, he could be Quinn, not Quintus, and never Contarini. Though arguing about it here of all places just seemed counter-intuitive. He hoped it didn't catch on.

"I can do that. Just know it might affect your gait a little, so if you're still feeling clumsy after the first couple steps, let me know and I'll stop the spell," he warned quietly. The lavender-haired mage broke his gaze away from Lyra and shifted it to the other mage she'd motioned to briefly. He met his eyes for hardly a second, then lowered his gaze to the blond's feet. Right, he wouldn't need to account for the vampires. So, just three. Plus the prisoners, assuming they could even walk. If not, he'd probably be the one carrying them unless the Astorio volunteered. Quinn certainly wasn't going to be the one to ask.

Quinn's hands found each other in front of his waist, fingers intertwining and shifting about each other as he planned his next move. If he made them too light, they'd just bounce away, but if he didn't make them light enough, it would defeat the purpose of the magic. His hands broke apart and moved upward in a lifting motion toward Caspian and Lyra. They'd feel a faint floatiness come over them, as if they were submerged in a pool. Their clothes sat a little bit lighter on their frame and their hair puffed up the tiniest bit as the earth's grasp on them receded at Quinn’s urging.

"There. Try it out. I assume the cameras are all pointed downward too, so we could probably crawl past them on the ceiling if we need to." He assumed the detention level would have the least amount of blind spots, but the execution room was a toss-up.

---

@Hero@Trainerblue192

This is all worth it just to witness this little scene, Donovan thought. Watching the Dionne-Luscin child speak her thoughts on the mission was endlessly entertaining in the best way. He was pleased to see her confidence and agreed with her logic even if he was still fascinated with the fact that she was right in front of him. Sending the heir to the rebellion on a rescue mission spoke volumes. He almost wished he could have anticipated this, but even he never would have guessed that their leader would let her only daughter out of safety, let alone sending her into the field. Perhaps it was an act of rebellion from a cooped up child. Perhaps it was just coincidence. Regardless of the why, Donovan was tickled pink in every way that wasn't physical.

He half-listened to Quinn's response as he instead watched as Quinn's hands were bundled in what he assumed were nerves. Last he recalled, this one was a recent addition and had served until recently. He didn't act like it; the jittery movements and glazed over eyes were kinks usually hammered out within the first decade of a mage's life. Donovan had made a note to look into that more on the off-chance it would become a problem. He didn't anticipate it interfering too much but he would make sure to keep an eye on him nonetheless. The last mage was a transfer from Illitas so he would not expect any problems from him yet. The only true wild card was likely to be the Astorio. Even the battle-hungry were predictable but this one was a little smarter than the usual brutes. What a crew.

"And what of the possibility that the trio is separated?" Donovan asked. Was it cruel to ask a question that you already knew the answer to?

---

Chad paid little mind to the conversation at hand, at least outwardly, and instead contented himself by polishing one of his fangs with his tongue. There was still a little blood on it from earlier. A finger came up to wipe at the corner of his mouth and, as suspected, it too came away with a smear of red. He'd been certain to not let even a drop leak out from that guard and onto the floor, but apparently he'd been less meticulous with his own cleanliness. How careless; she didn't even taste that great. Oh well, no harm done.

That small excitement aside, this operation had been far too boring for the vampire's tastes. He'd been promised a grand conflict with the nearby fortress, and instead he'd been relegated to rescuing idiot mages who'd probably already had their minds torn asunder weeks ago. It didn't help that Dionne's progeny droned on like she was in charge of the operation. Was that his purpose here? Protect daughter dearest from the big bad security guards who'd been left behind when they vacated this dump? At least she had the presence of mind to word her thoughts as suggestions rather than orders, though it was almost cute that she thought he'd need to be reminded to listen for footsteps and hadn't been doing just that since the moment they entered.

Once again, his attention waned as the little purple boy steered the conversation to an explanation of his parlor trick. At least, Chad was pretty sure that was a boy - he initially considered it might be a flat-chested lesbian with a bad haircut, but the voice suggested otherwise. Great Anastasia, what were they feeding mages these days? Andrei's mother had looked more masculine while eight months pregnant than Casper and Purple Nurple did under the best of circumstances.

Chad expected the Eve's input to be more valuable, but he only offered a question of limited importance. Judging by the way he eyed the girl, he was either one of Dionne's sycophants or he somehow found the situation to be incredibly amusing. The Astorio sincerely hoped it was the latter, or this reassignment might actually become irritating.

"I guess we either drag the first one we find along or we stuff them somewhere safe and come get them after we've located the rest," Chad answered with indifferent ease, as if they were discussing the logistics of navigating a grocery store rather than a potentially dangerous imperial prison. "I'm not averse to splitting up, but I think our little mages have recently become joined at the hip and I'd hate to leave them without a chaperone."

The larger group definitely posed more of a risk of discovery, but they were bound to notice that the last girl stopped checking in eventually and raise the alarm regardless. Besides, with how deserted the compound was, they'd probably be able to fight their way out if it came to it.

---

How do you tell someone that they weren't a problem but instead a solution? Donovan was entirely amused as Lyra spoke and made no effort in hiding it. She was a little more observant than he had anticipated but it made things much more entertaining. He could very well directly challenge her now to make things more difficult. He could apologize and follow her lead as inexperienced and fragile as it was. But was there any entertainment value in kowtowing to the desires of a spoiled princess used to having her way? He would argue that both he and Chadwick were playing their parts as followers just fine. There must have been some intimidation from their lax demeanor but confusing boredom with disobedience was a rookie mistake. She was not his to correct but he was happy to put her in her place nonetheless.

"You're mistaken on whatever judgments you've reserved for our ilk, my dear," Donovan said. He was sure to be stern in his discipline. "Questions were asked. Answers were given. A good leader is aware of the tools at their disposal and operates under the assumption that all are of one mind. Everyone present has chosen to be here as well. Remember this well."

Stating the obvious was always a pointless endeavor but he wanted as much transparency as possible. He was certain enough was said and delving into a pointless argument would result in lower morale and wasted time. Fortunately he kept himself chipper and made sure to punctuate his lecture by pinching Lyra's cheek. It was likely to annoy her enough to want to move on rather than go back-and-forth. He glanced over at his fellow vampire with a small half-shrug; while he doubted they'd remain comrades-in-arms, he doubted the Astorio cared as much.

---

Caspian was still getting used to being a part of the 'Shadow Corps'; a nickname of sorts that he and his fellow friends had come up with back at his home base before he'd been relocated. A part of him missed the Vanguard, sure he wasn't a front line fighter, but their commander wasn't anything like the one here. Every mission seemed as dire as the one before, whether it was a supply mission, rescue ops, or simply an escort. The Shadowmancer seemed intent on drilling as much information into a short briefing as he could. Caspian, ofcourse, did his best to follow along, taking in keynotes of interest and making sure to commit the faces to memory. As much as he wanted to write it all down, he knew it would be a liability. He couldn't risk any intel getting out of their plans, hell's even the ink and paper he wrote on could be a potential giveaway.

---

Lyra seemed quick to dismiss the interrogation rooms, and while she wasn't wrong that the chances were slim they'd still be interrogating three months in, it didn't mean that they couldn't be hidden within those walls. At least one of the three survivors could have the mental fortitude to keep their mind and mouth shut, and they couldn't simply rule any of their options out without proof. As she continued to speak, Caspian placed three fingers down gently against the floor. As his index, middle, and thumb pressed against the cold concrete, he felt the water around them, pooling it into a small disc roughly six inches in diameter. A small droplet about an inch wide plopped upwards and floated until it hit the ceiling. If Quin was correct and the cameras looked down only, then an aerial search was their best bet.

Caspian ran the sensor along the top until it hit the space just above the door, slipping it through as he began to inspect the interrogation rooms ahead. Images of what the drop was seeing was displayed against the small pool before him. He focused on his search, one room down and empty three more to go. Suddenly his clothes felt lighter, his body shifted as if he was nothing but air. Caspian looked up towards Quinn, giving him a surprised smile before offering his hair a small tussle. "Neat trick, it works like a charm. I agree, the ceiling might be to our best advantage if we're going to avoid detection." he agreed before his attention was drawn back towards the small pool. Another room scanned and done.

"Two out of the four rooms have already been checked while we've been having this conversation. Both empty, if we're going to make our way towards the execution chamber then let's go ahead and make it. Every second spent discussing who likes who is a second lost towards their rescue." Caspians tone was calm, soft, and leveled. He'd done nothing but stealth missions, and already there seemed to be tension amongst three of their party. If they couldn't work together and keep themselves in check how were they going to expect to pull this off? "Eve, Astorio, can either of you climb walls unaided? It would help if one of you could take point to listen up front while the other covered the rear. But if you can't climb up with us…"

---

This girl really did have a penchant for stating the obvious, didn't she? Obviously they'd adjust their plans based on how they found the prisoners, it didn't need to be said. Chad wasn't sure if that was her way of organizing her thoughts, or if she honestly believed he didn't understand such simple facets of the operation. The Eve and him seemed to be of one mind, given how the other vampire immediately jumped to belittle Dionne's daughter like the child she evidently was. He would've gone with a demeaning pat to the head, personally, but he couldn't fault him; Casper had made the act a bit passé when he did it to the purple boy without a hint of irony.

"I think the only one here with a problem is you, girl. You open the floor to feedback and then raise a fuss when it's given," the vampire mused nonchalantly. Not that he was truly offended, but it really would become an annoyance if she harried him on every point he made. Especially if their suggestions weren't even at odds with each other. Typical woman. "I've lived your life a dozenfold times, remember? You needn't keep reminding me to do things. And lest you worry, were I desperately in need of heads to rip off for my daily quota, I'd have already blundered into the path of that camera over there and waited for the bloodbath." His mouth twisted into a sweet, yet taunting grin, the one that he reserves for people who take themselves too seriously when he knows he can become a thorn in their side.

Fortunately, Casper managed something productive during their little spat, and spared the group from any rash actions Chad might've taken to liven things up a bit. The fate of the prisoners didn't particularly interest him, but a located prisoner was one step closer to vacating this dump so he could focus on more important endeavors. If he wanted to shut up and move along, Chad certainly wasn't going to object. Though he couldn't say he'd willingly participate in a jaunty crawl across the ceiling like some kind of insect. Mortals were so cute; they see a new type of magic and immediately jump to some overcomplicated diversion founded on it.

"Even if we could, that'd be a waste of blood, time, and effort. I believe it more prudent to keep our attentions on our surroundings and not on whether our feet are going to slip right off the roof and into a camera's view or not," Chad stamped out the idea immediately. "Besides, isn't that what mages are for? Are we too heavy or something? It's impolite to call people fat, you know." He turned his gaze down to their resident wall-walking expert, who predictably wilted under it like a delicate flower.

"No, sir. I can handle everyone if necessary," Purple squeaked, timid as he was. Poor thing, he'd been the only one that behaved; Chad really could stand to reward him for his behavior, assuming it came from manners and not fear, anyway.

Turning away, he continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But that's a bridge we can cross when we get to it. Casper seems to have this floor covered, let's move on before all this bitching gets us caught."

---

---

Quinn diverted his eyes bashfully as Lyra praised his spellcraft. She must not've understood how his affinity worked, because he'd barely done a thing there. What was there to congratulate? The speculation ended shortly after when she mouthed off to the vampires in their entourage - she was crazy, and he needn't give any thought to her motives or action beyond that. Then the other mage rose from whatever strange spell he'd been focused on to... stars above, what was with these people?!

Heat rushed to his face as the blond mage's hand made its brief journey through Quinn's hair. His own hand came up to quickly fix whatever Caspian had messed up, perceived or real, then joined its partner in tugging awkwardly at the hem of his shirt. He really needed something to do with his hands; embarrassment made him jumpy, but he couldn't afford to act on it when one wrong move could get them discovered. If Count Astorio didn't do it first out of spite, anyway. The tension in the air only mounted with every word, and though he had no part in it, Quinn felt his stomach drop all the same.

Figuring it would be safer to look away rather than be confused for a participant, he followed the blond mage back down to the puddle he'd been so entranced with. To his surprise, it didn't show the slightly-distorted floor beneath, but a whole different room entirely. Was that below them? Could he see through the floor? Quinn hadn't even heard an incantation out of him, maybe he was less attentive than he thought.

"I think whatever you're doing is a lot more impressive than my spell, honestly," the violet-haired boy commented quietly as he leaned over Caspian's shoulder. The picture even moved; though Quinn wasn't entirely sure what it displayed, given the way everything in this building seemed to look the same.

The feeling of hungry eyes on the back of his neck drew Quinn's attention away from the scrying pool and his posture back to rapt attention, only for it to crumple submissively under Count Astorio's scrutiny not even a moment later. Had he been accidentally roped into some kind of rivalry by Lyra's comment? Was that common here? Sure, he'd seen some mages with... radical ideas on vampire-mage relations in the rebellion, but outright hostility like this had to be a rarity for the group to function. Right...? Was he immediately pegged as a disobedient upstart because he'd left a vampire's service? He didn't hate vampires, he just liked living!

"No, sir. I can handle everyone if necessary," he answered the Count, choosing not to comment on the vampire's last jab. If anything, it was probably intended for Caspian anyway. Quinn certainly hadn't implied anything of the sort, but if he was to be grouped in with the rest of the mages...

He needed to find a way to distinguish himself from them, fast. Unfortunately, short of throwing himself to the floor and begging their favor, Quinn didn't see anything he could do immediately to do so. As soon as the Astorio looked away, his hands found each other once again and wrung themselves together in a pitiable attempt to comfort himself. His eyes didn't leave the floor, just in case.

---

---

It appeared that the Astorio wasn't going to cooperate in Quinns idea. Caspian wasn't about to argue with the vampire about the absolute necessity for stealth in missions such as this, but he hoped that a bulk of the Astorio's decision were based mostly on the actual limitations of his abilities and not solely because he didn't wish to. Granted he'd made some fine points, it was best to keep their attention on their surroundings in place of a new vantage point. Caspian huffed, blowing a tuft of hair out of his face before he finally stood up, looking towards Quinn with a smile. "This? It's nothing really. Any water mage in my family can do it." He wanted to add more, but at the risk of sounding like a hypocrite he chose to bite his tongue until later. It appeared the others were finally willing to press onwards.

Caspian held his hand above the puddle on the floor, fingers extended downwards as he motioned his hand up like a jellyfish. The puddle flew up towards his hand, reforming itself into a watery sphere that floated inches away from his palm. He followed behind Lyra and Quinn, holding his palm up where the orb now floated above. His first few steps felt awkward, as if he was learning how to walk all over again. He paused, taking the time to work out the motions before finally continuing forward. Caspian waited for the camera to swivel away, using his newfound lightness to dash forward into the camera's blindspot, waiting beneath it until it made its rotation back. Once the camera was pointed towards the group again, and away from their destination, he dashed once more, moving further than where they'd stopped previously on the other side. That should've guaranteed that he was out of the device's view.

Caspian pressed himself against the nearest wall, holding up the watery sphere and gazing into it once more. The next two rooms secured with no sign of the hostages inside. It appeared Lyras hunch was correct, now all they needed to do was go downstairs and investigate the executioner's room before attempting the small cramped space above their heads. Caspian motioned for his drone to come back, rejoining itself with the greater sphere before he secured it all away into the waterskin he kept strapped on the small of his back. "No one's in the interrogation room that I could see. Checked every one and each came up empty."

---

Quinn let himself relax at last as Lyra finally backed down. She didn't at all seem genuine, but so long as everyone had calmed down, they could keep moving. Let them work out their differences somewhere else - preferrably far, far away from him. Hopefully Lyra's conduct wasn't a direct reflection on her mother, or else he might not get the chance. He'd come to Dawn Rising expecting- well, he didn't know, but something akin to a harmonious organization united by common cause, misguided as it was, not a petty microcosm of the Blood War. He certainly hadn't signed up to butt heads with vampires based on some imagined mage solidarity.

Lyra tugged one of his sleeves away, and his hands instinctively balled into fists as they separated. Guiltily, his cheeks flushed red again and his mouth parted to offer a mumbled apology for his conduct, but it promptly closed again once he'd registered that she hadn't taken issue with his incessant fidgeting, but rather intended to just beckon him forward. Maybe it would've been for the best; if the vampires saw her chide him like his mother, they probably wouldn't place them as kindred spirits. Certainly would've been embarrassing, though.

People here were oddly fond of touching each other, he noted. Or at least touching him. That was twice in a row, did they have no shame? Well, clearly not, if she was so willing to argue with the vampires, but surely one needn't be too dignified to not shower affection on strangers. Merciful Salazar, it was that handsy countess all over again. Except Lyra wasn't even hungry.

Quinn returned his attention to his surroundings as Caspian - or Casper? Did he forget his name so soon? - zipped past, which drew his gaze up to the nearby camera. Right, focus. He followed the other mage's lead and timed his rush with the camera's movement, continuing past Caspian to subtly use him as a barrier should they have underestimated the camera's range.

"It was worth a shot. If they had already talked, they'd have no reason to keep them alive this long," Quinn mused. Hopefully they weren't too late. It didn't make sense to be still holding interrogations when the facility was this deserted, but it didn't exactly make sense to postpone their executions either. Then again, he didn't understand anything about this jail- and he was getting off topic again!

He took a step back, trying to distance himself from Caspian, lest someone notice he was cowering behind him, then gave the other mage a pensive frown. "Can your, um... puddle see the upstairs too? It'll at least get us a head start on the cells before we get up there."

---

@Hero@Trainerblue192

Although no alarm had been raised as the group made their way across the room, the elevator suddenly whirred to life. The cables groaned as the elevator rose. The floor indicator changed from 1 to 2… And finally to three as the elevator continued past without opening. The quiet ding of the elevator opening upstairs was muted and the sound of heavy thuds could be heard down the shaft, but the vampires could hear two voices chatting casually.

“I’m getting as far from here as possible. Mosquito infested swamps are the worst. Cold and snowy, like back home, that's where I’m headed.” One of them bitched. “Can’t believe they put me in this shit hole after everything.”

“Well, hey. We’re almost done. Once that freak is done frying the mages, we’re less than an hour away from freedom.” The other placated, a grunt of exertion breaking their words. “And then you can put in for that post closer to your family, right? Just have to clear out the Interrogation rooms and we can head out.” The cables began to groan again as the lift descended.



The Execution chamber of the Hasgand Holding facility was a singular, large room with various covered holes in the floor and attachment points on the wall and ceiling for whatever method the inquisitor and its henchmen were interested in for the night. The stone room was covered in long, metallic strips that ran up the walls and ceiling in a neat grid that included the two heavily reinforced metal doors, which served as the only two points of entry for the room. Two guards, one on each door, stood at rapt attention.

The scent of smoldering flesh permeated the air as another corpse hit the ground, the face of the poor woman perpetually twisted in agony as smoke wafted off the large black spots at the temple. She’d been fun, but ultimately these mages were too weak to really handle what their executioner wanted to put them through. Two others remained, shackled in heavy chains near the pedestal he’d spent the past ten minutes shoving as much electricity into the silly rebel as she could handle before he got bored and fried her brain with barely a thought.

“Now, now. Did you enjoy the show? Have we worked up your appetite for a little fun yourself?” Nasir cheerfully directed his question to the conscious prisoner. The other, a little less worse for wear but still not in great condition, was still under the influence of the drugs they’d pumped into him and he was knocked out like a baby on the floor. “I’m sure you’re interested in the chance to free yourself, but we have to wake up your little friend first!”

Adorned in the recently redone white and gold Inquisitor uniforms, the supposedly absent Inquisitor Hasgad made his way to his unconscious ward. The heavy soles of his boots echoed in the all but vacant chamber until he carefully lowered himself to one knee, gently brushing away where hair blocked his temple. “Wakey, wakey little birdie. Time to sing a song for me.” Inquisitor Hasgad crooned as a flash of light sent a shock straight to Roan’s brain.

Donovan was wholly pleased with the interaction that followed; Chadwick intuited his intention and followed up. He didn't initially plan to distance himself from the rebellion princess but he couldn't help himself, she was too expressive, too easily annoyed. The glare she gave both Chadwick and him was absolutely precious. He was tempted to give her an apology just to ensure he could remain close but having her try to keep him at arm's length while he ignored it would be more fun. He hoped the other two would be able to give him half as much entertainment. Fontaine didn't fail to deliver as his suggestion of walking on the walls made Donovan outright laugh. Subdued, of course, but the thought process of mortals was absolutely fascinating. He didn't bother with a response as he agreed with Chadwick and it was time for them to move. He looked to Lyra expectantly and once she apologized gave her what he hoped was a dazzling smile.

He looked to the elevator as he heard the mechanisms come to life. They were going to have their first potential encounter sooner than later. The conversation that followed was dull and nothing he didn't already know but he would have to give Lyra a little credit as her guess was correct. A freak who fries, that wording also concerned him for a moment. As they say, nothing worth getting in life is easily taken. The group would need to make a decision: do they run ahead and avoid detection, or do they confront the current looming threat?

"How does one 'fry' a mage? What a curious choice of words. The ones we're looking for seem to be below," Donovan said. "We could ask the pair what they mean since they're descending. What say you?" He did make it a point to look directly at Lyra as he crossed, unseen by the camera. One could say his eyes were shining with anticipation of her response.

---

“AA-mmh—!”

Roan was screaming before he was even fully awake. It was only a short yelp, cut off in the middle and muffled as the shock slammed his jaw shut, his mouth flooding with the taste of copper as he inadvertently took a chunk out of the inside of his cheek. Eyes flying open, he jolted upright – or tried to, anyway. Plenty conscious now, he was still sluggish and clumsy, and only really managed to push his back up against the wall, away from the white boots he recognized too well. As soon as his eyes opened, he squeezed them shut again, shrinking on the floor as his sudden spike in blood pressure brought the pain of a million wounds, new and old, flooding back.

It washed over him like a wave, and nausea along with it; as he struggled blindly into a sitting position, Roan was sure he’d throw up, if only there was anything in his stomach in the first place. The room had a putrid smell to it, burning his nostrils, though it was soon mercifully replaced with the heady scent of copper as a small trickle of blood started to drip from his nose – probably from the shock, although Roan didn’t notice it.

What he did notice, when he finally dared to open his eyes a second time, turned his stomach once again: it was Marie, his friend and comrade, with her face agonizingly twisted beyond recognition. She lay there lifeless on the floor, bruised and contorted, with smoke curling up lazily from a burn on her temple, and her dull, lifeless eyes locked with his.

“Ah!” Roan screamed again at the sight, recoiling back only to smack the back of his head on the stone wall behind him. His scream morphed into a groan, the gaunt and beaten man curling up on himself and straining against his shackles to clutch his head, hissing with the special sort of frustration that came with insult added to injury.

“Fuck!” he cursed, specks of blood flying from his mouth as he threw his hands down with a clatter in bleak, hopeless frustration. Another one gone. Poor Marie didn’t deserve that. She’d suffered enough indignity and torment already. And yet, Roan was so selfish as to wish he’d met her fate himself a little earlier, if only because at long last, she could rest now, and he was still stuck in the thick of it.

Quiet clinking to his right alerted him of the second prisoner in the room. It was Dylan, another comrade of his (and to Roan’s knowledge, the only other prisoner in the building now), shackled right alongside him. Damn, he looked worse than the last time he saw him – but of course, Dylan could probably say the same about him.

But the sight of his friend wasn’t reassuring, setting Roan even further on edge than the chilling stare of the lunatic Inquisitor eyeing him up. Aside from the two of them, a cursory glance confirmed that the only other people in the room were the bored-looking guards and the Inquisitor himself, all looking expectantly at Roan. Roan racked his brain; all he remembered was a silhouette in the doorway, hands he was too weak and indifferent to resist, and then a welcome release…

And then a shock, and he was here. But he knew enough to know this wasn’t an ordinary torture session. If their captors only brought them down here to watch their comrade die, as they did so many times before, they would have woken Roan up before the action started. No, there was only one other thing they brought more than one prisoner down here for.

“Oh no, no, no… fuck!” he repeated, his shouts sounding more like sobs as the reality of the situation slowly dawned on him. “Dammit, you freak!” he spat at the Inquisitor, who Roan was only just now remembering was supposed to be gone, “Aren’t you tired of us yet?!”

---

---

Huh, she backed down. Interesting. Chad doubted she was actually convinced and conceded only because the argument seemed a waste of time, but he'd take it regardless. He followed the group with casual ease - or at least as casual as one can be while dodging the view of security cameras - and moved to continue onward even as the elevator started its ascent. The Dionne girl rushed ahead, as if she weren't far too fragile to take point. Well, maybe she'd intended to turn the inside of the elevator into a conflagration before the occupants had a chance to react, but surely standing that close was a hazard regardless. The point became moot, as much of what occurred here apparently did, as the elevator continued past them and into the detention level.

The chatter was about what he expected; security didn't give a damn anymore. The Eve wanted to press them for information, though Chad was perfectly content to wait for the elevator to arrive just so he could deprive that poor idiot of any chance of seeing snow or his family again, but apparently the prisoners took first priority now that they had confirmation at least some of them were still alive. How annoying. He supposed they couldn't bank on the one downstairs playing with his food for too long, so it'd be better to catch him while he's distracted with his fun. Clearly he had some kind of fire-derivative for an affinity, so he was likely capable of becoming quite the annoyance. Besides, it would be completely unsatisfying to get neither a fight nor a completed objective out of this trip.

"Yes, oh fearless leader," Chad acquiesced flatly, finally moving with intent for the first time since he'd ripped that girl's throat out earlier. "You have about fifteen seconds until that elevator opens, so I suggest you pick up the pace." He gently pushed the door to the stairwell open, careful to avoid any unfortunate rattling, then continued past, only dangling a lanky arm backward to hold the door open behind him. If they started arguing rather than walking again, he didn't need the slam of a forgotten door to tip off both the two in the elevator and the ones downstairs too.

---

---

Caspian was more than willing to answer Quinns question, however the sound of the elevator suddenly coming on stopped him from doing so. If anyone was on it he didn't need them to hear him talking and give away any element of surprise they may have had on their would-be attackers. Lyra seemed to have the same idea as she then opted for hand signals before moving herself in front of the elevators and creating a small flame. An interesting tactic to say the least, a point blank shot of intense heat could potentially kill them off in one go but…it would take at least two go's. Fortunately for them it wasn't needed, the elevator making its way past them all as it headed further down.

Donovan's question was unsettling as it sat inside of Caspians mind. Clearly he'd heard something he couldn't. That gave them another edge in this fight. With any luck these two were referring to another fire mage. Not the best news for Lyra but amazing news for Caspian. With luck he could keep the inquisition occupied while some of the others freed the prisoners. He didn't like that others were joining in on the fight, it meant potentially prolonging their stay here, but as Chad had said, if they were quick they may not need to worry about it. Caspian quickly followed behind Chad, moving passed the Astorio as he quickly slipped down the steps and rounded the corner until he was faced with the two large iron doors.

---

Quinn just about shat himself as the elevator whirred to life. His lips parted in the beginnings of an incantation, only to clamp his mouth shut as Lyra blocked his line of fire, stilling the ripples in the air around him lest he accidentally shoot her instead. Fortunately, no one had to make a move, as the elevator was bound for a higher floor instead. The vampires seemed to have picked up something he didn't, because Count Eve seemed to have pulled information out of thin air otherwise.

Any thought of deliberation left his mind in a flood of urgency as Lyra helpfully summed up the prisoners' status. If they had a location and a time limit, there was no point waiting around. He could only hope - in a twisted, ironic way - that the executioner was a sadist that liked to take his time, because a pragmatist would've had them all dead before the rescue party even made it down the stairs. As Count Astorio propped open their way forward along with an offhanded warning, Quinn raced after Caspian. As far as he knew, he had the best chance of debilitating the executioner enough to buy the prisoners time. Lyra might end up frying the mages herself, and Caspian... well, Quinn hoped water mages could do more than give their opponents a bath.

As the blond made his way down the stairs, Quinn opted for the more direct route in the interest of saving time: straight down. He vaulted over the railing effortlessly, bypassing the staircase entirely as he simply floated downward like a leaf on the wind. Gravity reasserted itself as his feet delicately found purchase at the bottom of the stairwell, and his clothes once again hung heavy on his frame as he dropped down into a furtive crouch and looked around for something to hide behind.

"Do we charge in and make a scene or- I think they're running out of time," Quinn whispered anxiously. Intellectually, he knew a coordinated sneak attack would probably have the greatest chance of success, but even a moment's hesitation in assembling themselves felt agonizingly long with the knowledge that someone was potentially dying on the other side of that door.

"I can get the prisoners or... stall reinforcements," he offered, slightly more lucid but no more composed. It was about as helpful of a suggestion as he could give, preoccupied as he was. The executioner was honestly secondary; let the vampires have their fun, their mission was a prisoner extraction first and foremost. As idiotic as he thought they were, nobody deserved to be 'fried'.

---

The door to the second level closed with barely a peep, leaving the infiltration team safe inside the stairwell without the lackluster security aware of their presence. A faint drip echoed through the stairwell, and the stench of mildew hung heavy in the stagnant air. The concrete stairs were stained and brown streaked the walls from up high, like water running down the walls.

The hallway outside the stairwell, exiting barely ten feet off the primary entrance to the execution chamber, was podmarked with sear spots and long, sharp gashes in the floor. The iron double doors sat directly across from the elevator, and were each pressed with the symbol of the Sinnenodel family. There was no other movement in the hallway and the group stepped out just in time to hear the elevator come to a halt, the floor display reading a bright red 2.

A moment later, muffled screaming came from beyond the doors.



Inquisitor Hasgad looked downright disappointed at Roan. “Freak? I’ve killed three year olds with more creativity than that. I guess I shocked too many brain cells, hm? I always tell myself not to get so carried away, but it’s so hard to keep my composure at the end.” Hasgad sighed, patting Roan’s head like a dog before gesturing at one of the guards. The one on the interior entrance snapped to attention, scuttling over. “Hook this useless sack of shit down right in front of our VIP guest.” The guard complied, moving the broken Dylan around so we couldn’t be able to fight back. He stared at Roan with vacant eyes, dried tear tracks on his cheeks and any hope long tortured out of him.

“Since this is my last execution for a while, I need to make sure I have fond memories of my time here at my facility. Our normal methods just seemed a little boring, so I came up with something new and exciting.” Hasgad explained to Roan, sending a vicious shock through Dylan. He screamed, spasming. He slumped again when the Inquisitor moved his finger away, spitting out the blood from where he bit himself. “So I came up with a little audience participation game. This is how it goes. I keep your friend here on the verge of consciousness as I torture him for our amusement,” Hasgad gestured between himself and Roan, “And when you think he’s had enough, you beg me to kill him. Of course, it has to be convincing and eager and all those fun things, or I’ll just ignore you. I’ve been using the table over there, but I just don’t feel like Dylan here got the full experience. I wanted to make sure Dylan here knows that you’re the reason he’s in pain, or dying. I want to make sure he hears you begging for him to die, or failing to do so, in his last moments.” Hasgad placed a hand on Dylan’s shoulder, unperturbed by his prisoner’s writhing. He let it go on a little while longer than his previous zap before he took his hand away. Dylan couldn’t even raise his head as he took heaving breaths.

“Should I kill him yet, traitor?” Hasgad asked sweetly, lightning already crackling between his fingers.