---

The dust settled, their arrows struck true...and the undead monstrosity fell, torso ripped to shreds by Lein's arrows and its head now painting the walls of the crypt. Cecil exhaled, having quickly already knocked another arrow, ready to engage the last remaining opponent.

"...ha?" Cecilia frowned, watching what happened with a manner of both curiosity and mild disbelief. Well, they were gone for now. That much was certain, but she didn't let her guard down as Gerard tended to the captain. It didn't make sense. The tone of voice was unfitting for the frame, and she was quite sure she had seen horns sprout from the top of his head. It was hard to fool her eyes, and she was almost certain that happened.

Giving Lein a friendly salute as he'd head back up for serenity, Cecil would take position where Fanilly had ordered.

"Tell me if ya see or notice anything else, Shael." A quiet confirmation from the spirit was the only affirmation she needed as she'd follow Fanilly and Gerard deeper into the crypt and it was soon clear that they'd very quickly find what was likely the conspirators. A voice. Female. A second voice. Male. Cecil frowned as she'd quiet her steps. If only she could poke her head in stealthily and take them by surprise, but that seemed like it wasn't going to happen.

"You know, garbage typically collects more garbage around it!" Cecil shouted to the witch, a few quick arrows loosed towards her. "Shael! Know anything about that barrier!?

The man from Barukstaed
@Crimson Paladin@Conscripts@Creative Chaos

---

The axe swung wide, barely missing Fleuri as the knight stepped back, the blade in his hand raking against the armor. A miss for the both of them, it seemed, as the Barukstaedian grunted in mild annoyance, making a move to raise the axe once more and make a charging tackle towards Fleuri -

"Guh-?!" A grunt of another annoyance as Steffen tacked him from behind, preventing him from being able to properly wield the axe. He'd reach behind him, a strong hand grabbing a hold of Steffen's helmet, roughly attempting to just pry the Ingvaar off as the knife would meet similar resistance that Fleuri's blade had. What the man hadn't accounted for though, was Vier. He attempted to use the axe to deflect the blow, trying to keep the other man away but a miss - the blade struck true. There was the sound of metal breaking, creaking as Vier's blade pierced the armor under his helmet. The man growled fiercely as he continued to try and grapple with Steffen before he could put that dagger to proper use.

Lein

---

Location: The Cazt Mausoleum
Interactions: @Erode

---

Certainly sounds a lot more likely than besting the vampire. Unless this is a lie and Serenity struck a deal behind our backs, that sounds like this necromancer and his cronies aren't entirely put together.

"Went with yours, actually; Stab the guy till he stops moving." Lein shrugged. To the extent that Lein knew, that was actually the best way to describe the 'plan' anyhow. "Really, without you shouting at me to fall in line it was quite the bore. Missed you so much I hopped up here as soon as I could."

Lein skipped down the stairs following Serenity's lunging pace, occasionally jumping down a couple steps to keep up with the knight. "Did see something interesting. Not sure if suddenly sprouting horns counts as demonic, but there was a guy hiding behind the tentacle monster that retreated after we gibbed his pet. Human male, red gem on a necklace, leather armor. Maybe a couple daggers at his waist. Ring a bell?"

As they continued down the passage, Lein picked up a sizeable brick from the floor, tossing it up in the air to get a feel for its weight. He was not out of arrows yet, but that last skirmish reminded him that maces as a fallback was very much putting him in danger of getting grabbed. So he'd put some bar brawling tactics to good use: a mug on a rope, for those shrewd ones that always ducked behind the countertop. In this case, a brick on a rope for a necromancer.

Fleuri Jodeau

Fleuri's attack had little results, scraping against armor, but Vier's strike managed to breach the man's armor. With the warrior still grappling with the powerful Invgarr knight, this presented an opportune time for a finishing- or at least heavily wounding- blow.

He wouldn't be using his greatsword, though. With the three knights in such close quarters, and with the man's still formidable defense, Fleuri decided this was a good time to bring out Candlestick, the ancestral sword he was borrowing.

Wherever you are, I hope you approve of this, Armand.

The knight dropped his greatsword with a clang, and drew the enchanted blade from its scabbard. Despite its age, its enchantments had seemingly kept it strong and pristine over the years. It had been a while since Fleuri had used an arming sword, but he was still versed in the motions and techniques for wielding them. It was certainly a far finer weapon than the mundane arming sword that he had wielded during most of his time as a squire.

Fleuri charged forward, thrusting the enchanted sword at the breach created by Vier. He was tempted to half-hand it as to put more force into the blow, but he wasn't sure how the enchantment worked and thus didn't want to risk hurting himself touching the blade.

"For Reon! For the Roses!"

@Creative Chaos@Conscripts

They'd snuck the princesses out of the castle and through the city into Candaeln well enough. At the very least, the party wasn't caught. It'd been late enough at night that the streets were mostly deserted, after all. Still, Renar couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as they passed through the keep's gates to more relative safety at last. This would give them more than enough time to regroup and prepare their next move as the princesses were kept safe. Of course, this was presuming that the team sent into the Cazt tomb would fail. Considering the presence of both Gerard and Serenity in that squadron, Renar had a decent amount of faith that they would pull through.

That said, it never hurt to plan for all eventualities. It was with this in mind that Renar approached Tyaethe, catching Fionn's eye briefly. As far as he was concerned, the bodyguard squadron's role in this was finished. All that was left was the battle in the crypts, and they had no information as to what was going on at the moment.

"Dame Tyaethe," He made a brief salute. "Requesting permission to take some men to reinforce the Knight-Captain in the mausoleum once we've re-armed ourselves. Unless we're still needed here on the defense?"

@Raineh Daze

"You realise I'm not in charge, right?" Tyaethe asked, sighing, "We have a captain now. If people want to follow you and you want to go, I'm not able to stop you. If you're asking whether that's a good idea, I don't think it will cause a problem."

All she really needed was a minute to get away and grab her sword, and she would be perfectly confident in addressing anything a necromancer might be able to bring.

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist@PigeonOfAstora

"Bounding!"

A blur of motion, and the unbalancing weight on his shield arm ripped free. Two foes ahead, one hostage between them. A sea of undead. Gerard had only locked eyes with the lightning mage for a moment, ozone still fresh in the air...

"The order is important here."

... And made his decision.

Steel flashed through the gloom, following the gleaming points of Cecilia's hastily loosed arrows. The throwing knife from earlier sailed end over end in their wake, pitched less with refined accuracy and specificity of target— and so much more a vengeful streak of raw force centered upon her torso. She was long range artillery compressed and refined into wielding the hammer of the storm— she'd cook them if she wasn't kept upon the back foot.

He was no distance fighter. He'd need to charge her to close that gap, probably slowed by smashing through the reanimated. Only three of them being here as it stood... best to leave this to the only archer among them, who didn't need to peel away from the unit.

The former merc brough his now-uniform shield to bear and brandished Dawn's Break, holding the blessed bludgeon tight to his frame. The boiling fury that had propelled him so was rising again within his drumming heart— pulling in the sight of the half-masked, sneering fiend ahead, of the struggles of the bound and gagged captive, the ugly hue of that barrier, the twisting of space bending light unnaturally...

And focusing it upon a single command:

Forward.

Riding the wave of heat that flowed forth, the tip of the spear crashed into the shuffling ranks that lay between them and the innocent life they had come forth to save, his shield and mace swinging, smashing, hammer and anvil. He knew the Captain wouldn't trail. The thought had not even crossed his mind long enough to evolve to a worry— it was instead cast aside, as his baleful glare beneath the shadows of his sallet were affixed upon the glinting nephrite sphere atop the staff.

For Reon, For the Roses, and For the desecrated dead— He'd smash that thing to powder.

---

What originally was a somewhat proper and decorous looking fight quickly turned into a crude and ugly grappling competition. The axe man gripped tightly on one of Steffen's horn and seemed every intention of either snapping it or getting him to flinch. The pain grew sharply, like a needle jamming through his skins, but he gritted through it. As much as Steffen wanted to dish out the pain back to his opponent, he had said he would hold that axe man in place, and he would carry that out just as stated.

In fact, the man's grappling onto his horns in his desperate attempt to break free was a bigger mistake than getting grappled from behind in the first place, as he was now one hand behind his back. Steffen took no hesitation in dropping his dagger, which hadn't been quite as useful as he had hoped, and instead held onto that arm as firmly as his opponent would with his horn, with just as much pain onto it if he hadn't been wearing the runic armor that he had on him. And that, despite how unpleasant and crude it looked to the outsider, it created enough opening for his allies to strike. Vier had recovered from the explosion earlier, remarkably quickly too, and swiftly delivered his blow. The screeching sound of metals crashing was painful to the ears, but you only get to hear this sound if it worked.

His resistance continued, however, much fiercer than before, like a wounded animal who realized its desperation. Indeed, Vier's strike had pierced the armor, and whether or not he too dealt the damage was not important. The broken armor was the time for Fleuri to strike, and he readied his ancestral blade. The man's resistance was strong, worthy of the reputation of Barukstaedian raw strength. In fact, even Ingvarrs he knew might not be as capable as this nameless opponent he was in lock with. But he was the Rose's knight, the Gravinir's supposed heir, and unfortunately for his opponent, he was strong enough to hold all of that raw strength by himself. When the time was right, Steffen took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and dug his feet into the ground, his hands gripped his opponent's arm and torso tightly, giving Fleuri a few seconds of petrification for him to exploit with a nod to tell him to go ahead.

Fleuri's warcry accompanied the strike. Steffen couldn't tell exactly how much damage it had caused, but he could feel the man's grip on his horn growing weaker, the pain from the pressure beginning to lift. The Ingvarr took that just as the sign for retaliation, as he had been boiling to do after that minute of agony with his horn. He pushed the axe man's arm upward that had been holding onto his horn and swung it around to his side, while at the same time, his other hand reached over to the back of the Barukstaedian's head.

"GRAAR!!!" His roar accompanied the full and mythical might of the Ingvarr, smashing the Barukstaedian into the nearby stone wall, in particular his exposed face, before throwing him into the ground.

@Rune_Alchemist@Crimson Paladin@Creative Chaos

---

@Raineh Daze@Psyker Landshark@VitaVitaAR@Krayzikk

---

Once the plan was settled, Fionn reached down, scooping Tili up off the floor. "She should be fine in time," he assured Elisandre, before Tyaethe led the way to the exit. While teleportation hadn't really been something he was expecting, he still took point like he said he would, sword in one hand and Nem in the other as he led the way back to Candaeln from where they'd ended up. Once back inside the castle, Tili was passed off to other knights better equipped to take care of her, while Tyaethe set about trying to make arrangements for the princesses for the rest of the night.

When Renar caught his eye, he nodded briefly. While he might need a moment to re-arm, Fionn's borrowed gear was barely any different from his actual. It would have to be returned at some point, so there was little reason to strip out of it, change to his own, and then head back in the direction of the castle towards the mausoleum without it. "You coming along, Nico?"

The undead, while numerous, were no different then those they had fought before. Perhaps they were better-equipped then the ones that had faced on entry into the mausoleum, but they were still mindless undead.

Bone shattered, dessicated flesh burning, old armor warping and bending under Dawn's Break.

Fanilly, too, had choosen to push forward. If Dame Cecilia could keep the lightning witch occupied, then it only made sense to press through the undead and take the fight directly to the necromancer as soon as possible. The faster that they could overwhelm him and rescue his hostage, the better.

Her blade flashed, targeting the gap between helmet and neck on one of the more well-armored undead, sending its head hurtling through the air with a dusty shower. The next, raising an axe, had the tip of the Knight-Captain's sword plunge through its chest and tear its way upward, its damaged body collapsing uselessly to the stone floor.

An arm taken, followed by the head. The legs cut out from a tall undead. Steadily, the numbers were thinning. The walking corpses were being returned to their rest.

"Tch."

Fierense took a step back, her lowered hand immediately manifesting a barrier of twisting white-blue light to intercept the projectiles before they could strike. Though it was constructed with haste, the mundane nature of the projectiles thrown her way made it easier to deflect them, the knife and the arrows clattering to the side before the barrier crumbled on its own.

"Yeah, you're right about that," she replied with a sigh, "Let's do this. That bow of yours isn't just for show."

Lightning crackled between her fingertips. She didn't seem to even be paying attention to the knights currently cutting through the undead.

"There's something inside. A divine spirit, maybe? A low-ranking one if that's true," she continued, shrugging, "Doesn't matter to me."

The crackling lightning in her hand swelled, blazing brighter.

"Show me what you've got."

The barrier around the necromancer was the result of a ritual, insofar as Shael would be able to discern, a chalk inscription on the floor beneath it playing a role in its generation. Of course, with the chalk inside the barrier this would make difficult to take advantage of that fact. It was also a strong one, it'd take considerable impact to break it.

But it didn't seem as if the necromancer's plans ended there.

"You know, the higher quality a corpse was in life, the more powerful and capable it will be when risen as an undead," he began, almost conversationally as his catalyst began to grow brighter, "Do you know who was interred on this floor?"

Fanilly's blade cut its way into the shoulder of the nearest of the undead. What did he mean? She didn't quite understand how such a thing worked, but did it mean that someone who was legendary in life would leave behind a better body for a necromancer to use?"

Then-

The gleaming figure that emerged from the shadows took her almost entirely by surprise. His armor shone as if it had been maintained in peak condition. His face, his entire body was fully concealed within, the lengthy, wide blade in his hand complimented by a shield bearing the Cazt star, the purple cape flowing behind his back.

The blade descended, slamming into Fanilly's sword, sending a shock up her arms as it sent her reeling back.

This was...!

"Erich Cazt," the necromancer continued, "The Hero of Aimlenn. The Demonbreaker. Certainly, even a fine hero such as this will degrade in death, but can you stand against the corpse of a man who drove a demon from these lands?"

The Demonbreaker raised his shield. Even though what was inside the armor was surely a corpse little more than bone, he still shone like a resplendent jewel.

And now he was the one they would have to go through to reach their foe.

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze

---

The journey to Candaeln had been done mostly in silence, the Princesses remaining close, Maletha still clutching her stuffed dragon toy. Neither of them had ever experienced teleportation magic before, but little was said of their feelings on the matter. They were still quite shaken by this point.

As they entered Candaeln, it was difficult to ignore the First Princess's response. Even if she was still quite uneasy, and didn't want to stray from her younger sister, the fact still remained that she was unable to hide her interest in any piece of history in sight. From the portraits to the cases containing legendary weapons, Princess Elisandre's eyes drifted over all of them.

Princess Maletha, however...

"... Th-thank you, Sir Ball Knight..." she half-murmured in Sir Fionn's direction. After a few moments, she glanced towards Tyaethe.

"... Can I meet Elei...?"

@Krayzikk@The Otter@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze

"You can look, but don't touch any of the cabinets. Elionne's things are over there," Tyaethe said, eyes following Elisandre's interest in the various weapons. From her desire to meet the knights so much as to an extend a ball invitation en masse, it was almost certain that the ones she would find most interesting were, of course, their original captain's. The ones that were conveniently close by the entrance, as well as not too far away from where the vampire planned to go next, so she would hear if the girl tried anything.

Almost as if this entire layout was planned.

Of course, the younger princess wanted something far more embarrassing... not that she was in a position to refuse, taking the younger girl's hand and leading her to one of the nearest bedrooms. As would be expected from an unoccupied room at this time of night, it was dark--and if Tyaethe had just been on her own, it would have remained as such--but a small amount of fiddling and borrowing one of the corridor lanterns let her light the lanterns around the room.

For a knight's room, the place was rather oddly furnished. Obviously, given the massive mound of cushions on the window seat, the bed was surprisingly soft and well-furnished, probably the most expensive thing there. But there was also a seemingly excessive number of wardrobes, far more than seemed needed, even if you occasionally needed to wear two completely different set of clothes.

Two things were placed on top of the bed covers, clashing with their mere proximity. One was the ornate, blessed zweihander the paladin favoured--immediately grabbed and placed over in one corner where there was no chance Maletha could get injured by it. The other... well, the only giveaway that it was meant to be a rabbit was probably the ears, it was otherwise a thoroughly overstuffed and soft humanoid shape with black glass eyes staring out of a white face, a golden ribbon jauntily wrapped around as a scarf. Although worn smooth, it was discernibly white, and in remarkable condition for something 200 years old.

"Um... that's Elei," the vampire muttered, gesturing and promptly turning away to bury herself in one of the wardrobes and find some of her normal clothes, shrinking once again as she did so. It was much less embarrassing if she didn't have to look.

“He.”

Serenity blinked, memories parsing sense now that she had time to think.

“She’s a demon. Damon enabled her possession through an artifact he gave that man, and she left with him after.” Twisting allegiances, too dense to make sense of. No point in dwelling upon it now though, not when the sounds of battle rang so clear, not when that sword gleamed with such vigor that even at a distance, it was recognizable.

House Cazt had risen into infamy due to the traitor who orchestrated the War of the Red Flags, but before then, they were granted power upon the deeds of their forebearer. The Demonbreaker, a knight of supreme capability whom had once done through sheer will what all the sages of the kingdom had given up upon.

Beyond that shadow of a hero laid the barrier of the sinner who chained him to their servitude. Outside, a caster of lightning contended with Cecilia’s storm bow. And the hostage herself, the sister of that nem assassin? Still breathing. Still alive. Damon didn’t lie. But that only made it all the more troublesome. It would have been better if the hostage was dead.

Serenity’s fingers drummed against her mace’s grip. The decision that she came to was made quickly.

“Lein, aim for the necromancer. Wait for the opportunity.”

And she was off.

The tides of the undead had already been churned up and cleaved through. Their Knight-Captain had found some of her footing after all, even if she seemed to perpetually be on the back foot. She had some amount of technique then. Just lacked in environmental awareness, if she kept getting taken by surprise with the appearance of such resplendently armored blasphemies. Gerard should have taken the hit for her anyways though. What was the point of a shield if it wasn’t used to let the one with two hands on her sword to focus on strikes?

But this positioning was useful regardless.

And there certainly was a bit of irony in what she was about to do next.

“Gerard! Shield overhead!”

With one powerful stomp, Serenity was airborne, her knee cracking off the skull of the undead that impeded her path, her mace of common steel brandished over her shoulder.

In the next, her feet found the surface of a shield scored with cuts and stained with desiccated flesh, and that became her platform for rising higher still. A second jump, propelling up and up. Like the griffin that tried to leap over her three days and three nights past. Like the beast that had begged to be disemboweled in its pride and stupidity.

But she flew higher still, trusting that Dame Fanilly and Sir Gerard would see the opening if the Demonbreaker raised his weapon that high up. Trusted that if not to strike at her, the Demonbreaker would raise his shield against her, to thwart off the aerial helmbreaker she was about to deliver.

And yet, at the pinnacle of her ascent, the flaxen-haired lioness had already passed him. At the pinnacle of her jump, she was already twisting her body, curling it inwards, reversing her orientation so that her feet touched the ceiling.

Legs coiling like springs once more.

The third jump!

Gravity, might, and mass unified, dust sifting off the ceiling as Serenity descended. A sword could cleave, a spear could pierce, but when structural destruction was the intent of a warrior, there was only one weapon that could claim the name ‘meteor’ even when craft only of mundane materials.

At the very edge of the barrier, she delivered a blow to shatter the earth itself. Stone fractured, slabs cratered, spiderweb cracks bursting out from the epicenter of the meteoric strike. Racing out, to sever the lines of chalk that declared to this world that a barrier ought to stand.

Now, the question remained.

Did Lein trust this gambit enough to fire his shot, through hordes of undead, through the defenses of an undead champion, past the body of an innocent child, into the vile flesh of a necromancer who desecrated the glory that belonged to this tomb?

If he didn’t, Serenity didn’t mind.

Her legs, after all, were coiled once more, ready to send her into the fourth jump, right into close-quarters with this bastard-mage.

Leaping over the fallen demonslayer may have been a valuable plan in an open field, or even a forest. Somewhere that there was unrestricted vertical movement, and getting truly out of reach would have been feasible. But the knights had no luxury of space, nor of endless sky above. For a tomb, the Cazt Mausoleum was vast and spacious but they still lay three floors beneath the earth, and there was no such excess of space to take advantage of.

Enough to bypass the undead knight? Certainly, if he had been more tied up, yet instead his recovery from Fanilly's deflection turned into an overhead slice that only accelerated, tip of the blade scoring through the rock with a hideous shriek and coming to a dead halt right before it would collide with his intruding shield... or Serenity. But that scarcely mattered, the wash of air following it forcing the knight backwards.

The shudder from the ceiling above gave the reminder that maybe forcing their opponent into attacks that would carve through the ceiling was not a wise move. Mages and the undead had a much better chance of enduring the collapse of the mausoleum's ceilings than they did, and no matter how thick the stone, it was hardly expected to stand up to the Demonbreaker.

@Raineh Daze@ERode@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow@PigeonOfAstora

---

"This bitch!"

Shael shouted.

"I'm no low ranking divine spirit! Cecil! kick her smug face in so I can use her ass as a throne!"

"Keep it down!"Cecil retorted, watching her arrows harmlessly being deflected. Well, she couldn't say it wasn't expected that the mage would do so, but it also gave her a good idea of what she was dealing with. "And what's with that barrier?"

"Tch. As far as I can tell its a basic, low class barrier only weaklings would take pride in." The wind spirit replied, calming down slightly. "Chalk on the ground likely is its generation, or at least helping it, but without getting inside some way it would be hard to disrupt it."

"...Hm." Then, would they simply have to destroy the ground under them in its entirety? Maybe she could break it with a full power burst shot? "...Eh? Serenity?" Cecil watched, as Serenity attempted to leap over the undead monstrosity, only to be shoved back as the large blade cut through the rock above.

Right, she had to focus on the mage lady.

"Just so you know, she doesn't appreciate being called low class." Cecil grinned, a friendly smile as she'd knock another series of arrows, firing one quick, one fired a bit slower behind the other, followed by another immediately following it. That lightning was dangerous, she'd have to stay quick on her feet and figure out a good way to get around her.

Though she had ideas.

Playing fair wasn't exactly her strong suit in actual fights. The only issue was the distinct lack of space she had to work with.

The man from Barukstaed
@Crimson Paladin@Conscripts@Creative Chaos

---

The man, for one of the very few times in his life...felt fear. He grappled with Steffen trying to move the large Ingvarr from him. Flueri's charge. His axe hand was ensnared by Steffen. Movement completely locked down. Unable to avoid...then all he could do was take the blow. Flueri's blade found its mark. The sound of steel ripping flesh, the smell of blood as the Barukstaedian gurgled in pain, neck pierced by the blade.

His grip weakened on Steffen, he'd find himself being slung off his opponent, unable to remain standing as strength slowly left his body.

"Gah-!" A pain shout as he was slammed into the nearby wall.

...a few seconds of silence followed as the dust cleared.

"Gahahahaha-ack-!"

A loud, boisterous laugh broken by a pained grunt.

He collapsed onto a knee, barely held up by his axe. Another hand clutching his neck.

"Iron Roses...gahaha...to think I, would have the honor of dying by their hands." Another laugh, though quieter this time. "Alfrid Stormcaller congratulates you and thanks you for the glorious battle. Tell me, who do I have the honor of dying at the hands of?"

Good sense bid Renar to not retort to Tyaethe with the first thought in his head, which was that by all rights, she was technically in charge with the Knight-Captain's absence. Goddesses knew that was how it ostensibly went in the two years he'd been here before Captain Fanilly's ascension to her role. Still, at least the vampire had the good sense to allow Renar to run off and join the fray.

As expected, Fionn took the hint and readily agreed to join them, even inviting Nico along for the ride. Renar nodded towards both of them, already starting to make his way toward the armory.

"I've armor enough from the castle's stock. I'll only need to retrieve my poleaxe, which shouldn't take long. Gather at the stables, and recruit what knights you see at this hour to the task. I'll be doing the same." He said towards both of his fellows before taking his leave. On the way to and back from Candaeln's armory, he managed to rope two knights that were still awake at this hour with a hurried explanation that was summed up with "necromancer in the Cazt mausoleum, the Knight-Captain and some fellows are confronting him now".

About ten minutes later, Renar arrived at the stables with his poleaxe strapped to his back, and the duo of knights he'd found at his side. Hopefully, the other two had better luck recruiting men for a second wave to assault the necromancer.

@The Otter @Krayzikk

Lein

---

Location: The Cazt Mausoleum
Interactions: @Rune_Alchemist@Raineh Daze@ERode@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

---

Lein had spent his fair time around the castle libraries, in part to shift books for the ever talkative archivist in exchange for information and in part to shift in a couple boxes that did the archivist was not aware of. Never sat down to read any of the boring things, lest his mind blow itself out from the proximal boredom it oozed. But it was hard to miss the breathless importance that the archivist spoke of this 'Erich Cazt'. And seeing the paladin wield the Cazt crest against the terse Captain was all the clues he needed to piece together that what the Knights were facing was the legendary Demonbreaker, whose name writ itself upon the collective memory of Aimlenn beyond living memory and was spoken beyond compare.

And so, so utterly shrunken, a desiccated corpse completely and pathetically helpless in warding against being twisted into an inscrutable whim. Just why the hell did these nobles struggle so bloody hard to be preserved for all eternity, if all it offered to the living was nought but trouble? This 'Hero' in front of him was just a gilded pile of bones, a bit actor reenacting its glory days past the curtain call. Time and again, Lein was somehow propped up to resolve the insanity of these overstayed intruders.

Serenity, as she did so consistently, spouted a couple orders at Lein before rushing off. "Serenity, I -" It was a warning that would be undelivered, and on hindsight, the bull-headed Serenity would certainly forgo heeding. Least she didn't get run through in her charge, whatever strange stunt she was turning - a cold comfort, but they weren't caught on the flatfoot on the get-go. And five against three was still a better odds, especially if the necromancer was tied up animating the Hero and handling the hostage. They'll just have to handle this a little more deftly.

The mausoleum wasn't stable, the ceiling shuddering from just the undead's physical swing. But having no magi of their own, a collapse would certainly favor the necromancer and his co-conspirators' survival. Was there a way to only partially collapse the ceiling? Or perhaps, get up close to the conspirators so they are forced to shield both the Knights as well as themselves? If the translucent film bisecting the room was indication, there was already a barrier that stopped Lein from simply landing a shot straight between the eyes. That, and the necromancer was sure to try something with the nem if the tides did turn. That barrier had to come down on their terms. But how?

For now, they'd have to deal with this Erich. There was little space to work with, and without his usual bow there would be little chance to punch through that armor. Lein gingerly maneuvered close into a flanking angle, hanging just outside of lunging distance and placing potshots at the shoulder joints. Jam it open, or failing that, a distraction. He'll just have to rely on his compatriots to handle brunt of the forceful side. C'mon. Think. There's a trick to this.

Nicomede didn't say anything to Fionn, only nodded at the other knight's invitation, but he followed both men with a readiness and sureness of step at odds with any sense of uncertainty that had lingered before. It seemed he was a man energized by action, or at least reaffirmed by the fray rather than unnerved by it. The suggestion to regroup after they prepared was met only with the same sort of nod as before.

Rather than towards the armory Nico strode quickly towards the room that had become his. It wasn't the most comfortable fit in his thoughts, not yet. One would think that years of sleeping on the road or in whatever inn was available would be outweighed by the prior decade and a half, but recency had a weight longevity couldn't match. Consequently it was still a sparse, spartan space; the desk and bed that had kindly been provided, a single mostly empty bookshelf, and a rack upon which to store his own equipment. It was the last that held his attention now. The relative finery of his evening attire was stripped without ceremony, replaced in quick practiced motions by the comfortably worn gear in which he had traveled and the armor that rested atop it.

If there was fighting to be done, he considered as he checked the clasps and buckles about his person, it would be in relatively confined quarters. His shield would serve better than the dagger. The latter stayed at his belt, the polished lantern shield instead buckled about his arm. He would stop at the armory on his way for, well, a lantern. His sword buckled, his boots secured, and his hair pushed back out of his face.

Renar was still in the armory when he arrived, the other man with a couple of knights in tow, to grab a lantern. He made one extra stop off to collect a few extra skins of water, added to the dagger on his belt, before returning to the meeting place.

"Ready," He said to Renar simply, casting a glance over his shoulder to watch for Fionn's approach. "You briefed them?"

@The Otter @Psyker Landshark

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@PigeonOfAstora@ERode@Raineh Daze

As the gust of wind from the upturned blade of Demonbreaker touched his cheeks, Gerard in turn loosed a breath, the ragged exhale his one allowed moment of awe. He'd halted his charge for a moment to lift the shield high and stand firm, instinctively snapping to on orders for a foothold— and with that breath, surged forth again. The time Serenity had bought wouldn't last long... even with the titan before him a pale shadow of his life.

Of course he knew of Erich Cazt. Every boy, from the farmstead to the highest houses of Thaln, had been raised towards righteousness and courage in hearing the tale of the Hero, Aimlenn's savior. His stalwart defense of the capital, ages past... before him stood a Legend of his childhood. The Demonbreaker. A beacon of the strength a brave man could reach— equal to the Saint Elionne, founder of the Roses. Equal to Cyrus, the mighty Hammer, whose relics still shone within Candaeln's halls. Equal to Agrahn Sahlbard, whose tale of rising beyond common soldiery through battle-raging strength beyond measure had been the last glimmer of hope through hell countless times— proof of the Dream.

Erich Cazt stood among any of them.

Yet here he was now, jerked around upon invisible threads by some puppeteering freak in the tomb of his family, yet more salt in the open wound of the traitor's dishonorable acts. To disturb the rest of the fallen was already unforgivable. For that, he had resolved, twice over, to see this necromancer bloodied and broken, left to whatever judgement the crown would have left to serve in the wake of Reon's mighty wrath.

To disturb the rest of this hero, so foundational to all who dared against insurmountable odds, and force his body to be the towering enemy of the city he had so defended... Oh, man. You've done it now.

Eyes like the oncoming sun, they flicked up to find that the Demonbreaker had earned its name undeniably in the way it had shorn through solid stone— but because of the angle, or perhaps because of Erich's soulless body being a mere shadow of his former might, it had also caught within it. Weapon out of commission. shield on the far side. Against a foe of this caliber, whose swings could through wind-force alone send a stalwart dame like Serenity flying, there would never come a better opportunity.

He dove into the space opened upon the reanimated Knight's side, twisted hips, trunk, and torso, and threw his weight behind the head of the morningstar. Armoring of this quality probably wouldn't even come close to being smashed apart in the vein of the undead that had come prior, and with only bones beneath, it was hard to say how much damage the raw force would do internally.

Could it break bones? Maybe.

Would it get the undead's attention squarely upon him, opening up the Captain, Serenity, and Lein for possible angles past, either to attack the caster or help bring down the behemoth itself?

That felt far, far more likely.

In his off hand, he gripped the shield tight, knowing it'd be needed soon if he wanted to last long enough to accomplish anything.

But if even one of his fellows managed to hamstring this nightmare scenario while he threw himself into the fire... Then that'd be worth the risk.

Anything to give the Hero rest once more.

Anything that got them closer to this fiend’s head.

---

The wall of the mausoleum was marked with a crack of Steffen's making, splattered with a little bit of red that definitely wasn't there earlier. That was the cue for the Ingvarr to shift his control of his techniques completely over to holding back the rush of adrenaline that followed the grappling. His breathe rushed to fill the lull in combat, the Ingvarr breathing and coughing out the dust that was kicked up as a result. The particles and the horrible stench of rotten flesh absolutely would not be of health to him in any means. But as soon as the dust cleared, Steffen felt a little bit better to stand back up straight, his hand reached over to his horn to see if there was anything broken or fractured. Ingvarr horns are like bones, and, while incredibly resilient, are not indestructible, and are just as painful broken as any farmland dehorned creature felt. Thankfully, there seemed to be no sign of permanent damage despite feeling hurt when in contact.

With his hair readjusted from the scuffles, Steffen looked back at the axe man, a long, loud and painful grunt let out as he collapsed into his knees. Even with that he still had both feet on the ground. If it had been just Steffen alone with him, it would have been a much more painful and difficult fight. What a dangerous enemy.

The Ingvarr solemnly gazed on his opponent, his chest moving back and forth as it slowly calmed down finally, seeing his opponent weakly clutching his wounds. If his strength hadn't been enough, the wound looked deep enough that it was only a matter of time. He is defeated finally, but not without a congratulation.

"Alfrid." Steffen nodded to acknowledge the dying warrior's name and honor. "It's indeed a good fight brother. It's a shame we fight under this circumstance." He was going to step up to deliver the mercy killing blow to Alfrid, but it seemed like Vier beat him to it, so he retracted his step. "Steffen Gravinir. May the maidens find you soon."

With a gripped hand on his chest, Steffen looked at Alfrid in the eyes as Vier snuffed out the light in him, a phrase was uttered.

"Strismaour visd faedingu, strismaour is dadenum."

Once Alfrid was gone, his body laying on the cold hard floor of the mausoleum, Steffen stared into the distance for a few seconds. It's eerily quiet, the Ingvarr wondering how the battle below had transpired. Had his fellow knights rescued the hostage and defeated the scourge that parasitically disturbing the prestigious family here? Who had fallen and who was still fighting? He should come down to give them a hand. Their battle here with Alfrid had kept them distracted long enough.

Steffen stepped over close to his fallen opponent, kneeled down, ungripped his hand that was holding onto the enchanted axe. Once the axe was free from Alfrid's grasp, Steffen picked it up with both his hand lifted it up and down a little to get a feel of its actual weight. It was much heavier than the weapons commonly used around here, but at Ingvarr-strength, it wasn't actually hard to lift. He could make use of this weapon more than his battle hammer that he carried on with him at haste. It was also the first weapon every Ingvarr would train with, and Steffen's second or third weapon he was most familiar with behind the humble spear.

There was one thing he was a little concerned about: the axe's explosive power. Alfrid had no problem swinging it around on rocks and blasting stuff, but the man had the runic armor, which could counteract the weapon's kickback. Steffen could have taken the armor too, as he was close to his size more than anybody here, but that would take too long, so he would have to make do with no protection, if that runic energy would flow. In some ways, the Ingvarr hoped that it wouldn't. A mundane battle axe would do just fine, but he decided to swing it weakly against a nearby wall, away from Fleuri and Vier, to see if it actually did anything, and it did. The inscription carved onto the axe's blade gleamed, as arcane energy flowed through the axe, culminating at the very edge where it made contact, exploding on the stone wall. It was a smaller explosion than when Alfrid was using it, but it seemed like the enchantment worked regardless of who was using it. But a bit to his surprise, he was not affected much from that.

'Hmm, not bad.' He looked over the axe inscription one more time before turning to Fleuri and Vier, giving both of them a respectful nod in gratitude for their help, but also was fairly straightforward with what comes next.

"We should proceed down. The Knight-Captain needs our help." He said, looking at Vier, knowing he had been struck with the axe explosion earlier. "Are you able to continue, or feel unsafe to? No shame in going back if you are."

@Rune_Alchemist@Crimson Paladin@Creative Chaos

The arrows pounding into the once-formidable hero's armour had no immediate apparent effect, even as it slipped into the exposed joint from the raised arm. The undead barely even seemed to notice as it pulled its sword free and started to move into a defensive stance once again, the shaft snapping and the arrowhead remaining completely ignored. But maybe it contributed just enough, added enough resistance to the movement to give Gerard just a fraction of a second more to capitalise on it.

The dent the morningstar left in the armour's side was noticeable, likely bruising on a person if not rib-breaking, and definitely threatening to impair movement and, more certainly, breathing. Unfortunately, their long-dead foe had no such consideration for breathing. Nor did it feel pain, or even concern, stepping back with the impact and finally bringing its sword to bear once more. With Gerard this close, there was no opportunity for the same massive swing that had sent Serenity flying back, but that didn't mean the cut across Erich's body was much less of a threat, much less capable of cutting through him if he reacted incorrectly.

"Bringing him back with just his muscles and reflexes so he's controllable makes him a lot less spooky," An unexpectedly sultry voice said, coming from one of the corners behind them all. It was followed by the sound of someone eating something crunchy."Or did you just miss that everyone in the Cazt family is a magical powerhouse, Mr Necromancer? Even a lot of their close relatives are like that."

---

@Psyker Landshark@VitaVitaAR@Krayzikk

---

At Maletha's barely audible thanks, Fionn stripped off a gauntlet and patted her head before turning to walk deeper into the castle. While there was little he needed to grab, a more substantial belt to take the hauberk's weight would be far preferable to what he had at the moment—and a cloak to cover the mail and muffle his constant clanking and jingling would be useful in the event that the necromancer had anybody that escaped from the mausoleum scouting things out or preparing to seal the entrance. Unlikely, but if there were any such, he didn't want them getting alerted on his approach and entombing his friends.

Of course, by this point his approach was alerting other knights from their rooms, stepping out into the hall to see him go past. Some still fully dressed, others in nightclothes, yet others clearly having just woken up as the castle started to spring back into activity. "MacKerracher? Weren't you just at a ball?"

"Aye," he replied, continuing along. "Should've been there, lads."

"The hell's going on, Fionn?"

He turned to the next voice. The knight was a bit older than him, but not one he really knew the name of. "Assassination attempt. Princesses are here now, assassin's in the infirmary, captain's hunting down a necromancer who started all of it." The knights standing in the hallway stared at him, likely just as shocked by his blasé explanation of events as by the events themselves. Of course, the fact that his borrowed gauntlets and hauberk were covered in blackened residue and scratches from the miniature devil that had appeared to try and finish the murder likely didn't help matters.

"What's the plan?"

He shrugged.

"Grab a better belt and meet Renar at the stables to double back and help the captain down in the Cazt mausoleum. Come with if you like." With that, he passed the final few doors before finding the entrance to his own quarters, ducking inside quickly. A more substantial belt was quick to find, stripping off the one he'd been using and transferring his dagger over. Satisfied that the mail now wouldn't hang so heavily from his shoulders, he pulled one of his cloaks tight around himself, pinning it at his throat and stepping back into the hall. Noise was coming from the other rooms, but he didn't pay it much mind. Either they'd dress fast enough to meet at the stables or they'd catch up after the group started out, or they'd say behind.

Not really his problem at that point.

After a quick detour to the kitchen to gulp down something to keep his throat wet and take some scraps to eat along the way, he found Renar and Nicomede already waiting for him. "Anybody coming up behind me?" he asked as he approached. He hadn't really been inclined to attempt any active recruiting for the task—even with the circumstances of his birth affecting things, Renar likely had more experience and comfort doing such than Fionn ever would. He preferred to just dive into things and let people follow as they would, whether that changed the number from three to five or to twenty.