Another of the stone-carved effigies loomed within the assembled forces behind the Steel Princess casting his gaze down through the steel of his helm to spilt iron on the floor, the metallic scent upon his nose familiar as any. Fresh enough that it shone a brilliant ruby even in meager torchlight, cast from above by the mercenary's hand, Istvan saw no need to speak presently— he was roughly in agreement with the rest of the lot, and his words would redundantly murk the air where silence would give clarity.

Some arcane trickery had occured, be it a last-ditch effort to consolidate power by the higher ends of the fetid cult or the sublimation of the gambit they'd initially drawn up. A second raid concurrent with theirs was by all reasonable assumption out of the question; the spilled essence too localized, the surroundings too immaculate (save for structural vandalism, of course) by half. He was well-schooled in many areas, but the whims of magecraft did not fall within their number— though an imaginative mind pondered at the possibility of their unwitting participation in some ritual of bloodletting, given the fervor and number of cultists their theater had drawn forth.

Whatever had been done was to be preempted, at least prepared for. Idle chatter would distract.

The griffin circled the area three times at steadily increasing altitude, both beast and rider closely looking over the area for any sign of the enemy. Perplexingly, there was nothing. Roger had initially figured that the necromancers figured out that trouble was coming and fled, but there was no sign of the enemy, nor any telltale evidence of a large group hastily retreating from the camp. The broken barricades and torches suggested some sort of scuffle, but there were no bodies, just some bloodstains that Roger managed to spot during the lowest pass.

Unless they used some manner of dark witchcraft, there was nowhere they could've gone but into the ground.

Roger signaled Shortclaw to return to the Lions. The griffin complied, but instead of a slow descent, it pulled into a dive, then braked hard once it was low, before gracefully touching down on a suitably flat spot in the bandit camp. If there was anyone in the immediate vicinity, they would experience powerful gusts of wind from the griffin's arrival. Evidently, Shortclaw was harboring some disappointment at not finding any foes to swoop down upon.

"We saw no sign that they retreated overland," he reported to Velvetica as he readjusted his helmet, which had been slightly misaligned by the dive. "Some bloodstains, but no tracks, and no people."

@VitaVitaAR

"... I thought as much," Velvetica replied with a sigh. Gisela's comment had only confirmed her suspicions. Something happened here, and it didn't appear to simply be necromancy. Where were the cultists? Why was there so much blood? If it were the work of undead, perhaps they simply retreated inside, but...

Had something come from within the tomb? No, as per Roger's report it didn't seem as if there was any time for a retreat. The cultists outside would have been able to flee if something came from within. The fact their camp was destroyed but there was no-one in sight implied the threat came from outside, but...

What was the threat in the first place? There simply wasn't any evidence of anything, and the fact Gisela commented so specifically on it implied it wasn't something she expected to be here. Shouldn't she have expected necromancy?

Kayliss's entry into the tomb revealed the location of the cultists.

It was clear they had fled inside, perhaps in an attempt to defend themselves. But whatever had attacked them had been overwhelming.

While there was plenty of blood, the bodies were largely unharmed. The killing blows had been swift and almost surgical, an incredibly sharp, sizable weapon thrust through the chest or severing the head.

It was a methodical killing of every single remaining cultist.

Once Kayliss signaled for support, Velvetica commanded her forces onwards. Whatever was in the tomb must have swiftly altered the nature of the situation, even more than the bloodstained and ransacked camp. But more than that, it also signaled a lack of any sort of trap or other immediate danger.

Indeed, the site of the cultists methodically, thoroughly slain, would not have been an unwelcome one.

If it had been at the hands of her Lions.

But an unknown part had been the perpetrator, and the Steel Princess truly had no idea. A far too clean, far too percise killing. Even one skilled in assassination would be hard pressed to kill so many with such precision.

"... We have no choice but to uncover what happened here."

Velvetica sighed. This was on Veltan land, after all. Such an even had to be understood.

The tomb was not a particularly pleasant place. Unlike those of adherents to the goddesses, it was decorated with grimacing faces and strange animal-human amalgamations. Antlered men and other unusual creatures. Velvetica had heard of folk deities that shared some traits with the figures depicted on the walls, but there was a certain hostility to the carvings. Perhaps, rather then symbols of worship, they were intended to be warnings to keep trespassers out.

The last chamber of the tomb was not particularly deep, and not a single trap or living cultist was encountered before they reached it.

A figure in black and gold robes, clutching a skull-tipped staff, lay dead. around him were corpses, laid out carefully and adorned with candles. It was clear that efforts to raise the dead had been made here, at the very least.

But that was not all that sat within the chamber.

A girl stood there. She was perhaps in her teens, by appearances, Velvetica's age or slightly younger. Her features were soft, elegant perhaps, and framed by lengthy, pale blue hair that matched the shade of her eyes. Her skin was of an unnatural shade of white, one that was not seen on any living human.

It shone in a way slightly different from ordinary flesh, as well.

Her body was clothed in a pale dress with blue decoration, and atop her head was a pointed, wide-brimmed hat.

"Oh?"

She spoke softly, turning to face the Lions.

Her fingers possessed joints, like a doll's. Briefly visible was a similar joint at her wrist, before her frilled sleeves fell over it again.

Beside her stood a creature shaped vaguely like a naked human woman. But it was positioned in an unnatural fashion, knees bent backwards, two sets of arms supporting its large body in an almost spiderlike position. It was hairless, its eyes and expression black, and the joints at its limbs indicated that in spite of its abominable appearance it was some manner of doll.

Another set of arms ended in curved blades, each dripping with fresh blood.

"Ah, you must be the Veltans, I presume," commented the figure, waving her hand idly as she did, "I hadn't seen any of the others around here for some time, so I expect you were the ones who elected to deal with this cult. Alas, it seems you are too late."

A smirk crossed the girl's lips.

"... And what are you doing here, Witch?"

There wasn't a single moment of doubt in Velvetica's mind.

The doll girl was a Witch.

"My my, how hostile," responded the Witch amiably, though she was still smirking, "And here I thought you may approve of my handiwork. It's not as if I did anything you didn't plan on doing yourselves, is it?"

@Raineh Daze@Rin@AzureKnight@Psyker Landshark@The Otter@VKAllen@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin@Conscripts@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@PigeonOfAstora

Lirrah trembled as she made her way into the tomb. Irian would need people more skilled than her in the case of a counter-ambush, and though her eyes would be of good use in that respect, she personally suspected a higher likelihood of a trap inside than a force that Roger hadn't detected from the skies. In that way, she considered that she'd be of better use spotting for the explorers. It soon became readily apparent, however, that there were no cultists and no traps. In a way, that put her on edge even more. She'd hoped that the third party, whoever they were, was somehow swift enough in their machinations to have cleared out before the Lions reached the heart. Lirrah didn't particularly sense any magic about the place, but she was untrained in the mystic arts, and Velvetica seemed to agree with the mage. Well, if there was magic, and it wasn't of the expected type, then it might have belonged to Lirrah's suspected third party. Theories could harmonize, after all.

It was the effigies being destroyed that really sealed the deal for Lirrah. Only someone not affiliated with the cult, and certainly not whatever they planned on summoning, would have done such a thing.

It turned out she was probably right-ish and probably wrong-ish.

Lirrah had assumed that someone close to the Lions sold the information and coordinated with a party that wanted something with the cultists, but didn't have a large enough force (or not enough drive to get a bunch of their people killed) to do it without a big, distracting murder party. For that, Lirrah was probably wrong on all counts.

Because they were apparently dealing with a capital-W-Witch.

She'd only really heard legends about such things. Legends so infamous and wide-spread that some had even reached her homeland. She was certain that such a creature could have figured out anything about their plans through any number of magical methods, if she had the inclination.

There were too many unknowns, but since Lirrah wasn't dead yet, the Witch probably wasn't hostile to them at the moment. It might have been safest to remain quiet, but Velvetica seemed to want to talk. It was Velvetica's duty to find out what was happening in these lands, and it would be at their peril. Well, if that was the way it was going to go, Lirrah would have to assist. If she couldn't be counted on to talk, then what use was she?

"S-safas ma tasu, miss Witch," Lirrah greeted, smiling pleasantly. If the Witch could understand those words, it would likely make her feel in-the-know, and build some immediate rapport. If she didn't know them, and she was the curious type, then it might engage her.

If it made her feel small and stupid, Lirrah would probably be dead soon. But 'probably dead soon' seemed to be the order of the day. At this point, she could only gamble and take her shot.

The doll body, Lirrah noted, seemed to be very detailed and well-made. She had on a frankly beautiful dress, with ribbons and frills, and had coordinated her entire person with cool colors that went well together. This was a person that lovingly chose every aspect of her appearance, and due to being a Witch, probably didn't have a lot of people to compliment her work. In short, she was probably pretty vain. None of her choices served any practical purpose, and Lirrah understood this well.

"My name is Lirrah. I love your dress, py the way. You look radiant today~"

Lirrah hoisted her biggest, sweetest smile over the fear on her face.

"It seems you have done us a service! L-less work for us, of course! We were merely wondering why. If it were me, I'd pe afraid of getting too much plood on my nice dress. Forgive us this curiosity, put might you sate it?"

Urden kept the torch raised high enough to cast plenty of light. From the looks of things, the element of surprise had been put to awful good effect by someone else. He was giving the corpses a visual once over as they moved deeper, the consistent pattern of damage and slaughter on each of the cultists present. It was always the same, decapitation or a clean thrust through the chest. The consistent pattern told him it was likely a single person, and not their resident assassin. She was no doubt good, but he didn't think she was 'clear a tomb on her own' good. Plus the signal for support had indicated that this had to have occurred before she arrived as well. No, this was done by a single, highly effective killer, probably well above the majority of those present. Even among those with similar weapons and training, there would be more variance in how the killing had been done, and given the relative pacing of the dead, they had not been given much time to retreat and regroup again.

"Tell you what, our mystery guest is certainly a cut above the rest, given how little difference there's been in the cause of death."

Urden was speaking to no one in particular, mostly half muttering, half speaking out loud as he voiced his mental train of thought. Of course, the merry band of misfits would find their culprit, well, culprits. Some woman, similar age to Boss, looked like she had...doll features? Doll features, and then the Boss' comment on Witch was, indeed, not just a witch. Tonight just got far more complicated, and rather than ruminate on a being he probably wouldn't get close to without a miracle, his attention turned to the minion instead. He considered it like that since anything living had long since fled. Kept a strange posture, spiderlike, with freshly bloodied blades. There was the culprit, odds were the thing moved erratically but struck surgically, making a conventional fight a fool's errand. If he had to bet his life, and if the Witch decided to not take kindly to their presence in the end he most certainly would, best bet would be throwing everything into a single leading strike. Go on the backfoot, and the limbs and blades would probably leave anyone trying to defend in poor shape indeed. No, in this case, if it came to blows breaking it before it got in a good hit would be his best bet. Great one? No, but it was the best.

"Well, that explains the consistent precision I suppose. I get paid all the same, so I won't look this gift horse in the mouth."

Wasn't his job to do so either, and even Urden had heard of Witches and how they were big trouble whenever they decided to show up. No he would leave the Witch to the Nem's flattery or whatever the noble sand learned folks decided was a smart move. He would just keep ready in case things got weird. Well, as ready as someone could be for the unknown.

A Witch. Well. That explained the capacity for mass slaughter. A vampire wouldn't have left this much spare blood lying unconsumed. Ironic, that those practicing forbidden magics were butchered by a bigger fish in that regard. Despite the very real danger standing before the Lions, Kayliss didn't go for her weapons. She wasn't trained to be an idiot. Besides, by all accounts, their objective here was complete. So long as whatever the Witch was planning here didn't threaten crown and country, it really wasn't any of their business.

Kayliss didn't bother speaking any words of thanks or giving questions to the Witch. It was above her pay grade, especially with the Commander being present. And besides, questions would have been pointless. The woman clearly had enough might to not be obligated to answer anything they asked with the truth. Instead, she quietly stepped next to Velvetica, bending down slightly to murmur in her ear.

"Commander. With all due respect, if this doesn't threaten Velt, we ought to just adapt to the situation and let it go." Her piece said, Kayliss stepped back, one hand reaching for the vial of mana-inhibiting poison she'd brought along just in case the worst occurred.

---

Cultists' Lair

---

Valmyra witnessed the sight of the destroyed camp, wiping away any excess blood and saliva from her lance and tail. She didn't as much need for the torches her comrades had made use of, her species was suited for eyeing things in the dark after all. She could plainly see the dozens of slain corpses that littered the ground, along with the puddles of blood that laid with them. Some of the other members commented on how the wounds inflicted were of geometric perfection, which meant that it must've been committed by a skilled professional. Valmyra didn't care about that, she was just curious as to the identity and whereabouts of the attacker.

Upon following her comrades into the crypt, Val readied her weapon for another sortie as she paid close attention to her surroundings. The group eventually happened more corpses of cultists and a lone woman; she looked to be as about as young as the captain. She had an appearance befitting a witch, but her fingers had strange segmented joints. Val thought that she looked like those weird figures that human child often played with. What stood beside her was a disgusting amalgamation of blades and appendages that vaguely resembled a human woman. It had blades on some of the limbs, soaked in blood from its victims. The young woman revealed herself to the culprit behind the killings, but it didn't seem like the captain was in the mind of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Lirrah decided to apply a diplomatic approach while addressing the witch, while Urden and Kayliss thought that the situation should be considered a boon and thus no longer the group's concern.

"With respect witch, you can understand that your presence here is rather odd. We hope to have no quarrel with you, but we are naturally curious as well."

Delving into the ruin meant that Roger would have to dismount and leave his griffin behind. This was something that he knew would happen occasionally- griffins didn't always fit in the places where the Lions must tread. Fortunately, Roger was no slouch in combat even on foot- his mother ensured that he'd still have the martial skills expected of a knight even when not astride a griffin. Still, he much preferred to face danger alongside his stalwart companion. Fortunately, he would not be doing this alone- the other Lions were all themselves stalwart companions, although he was a little surprised that the Nem merchant had accompanied Velvetica and the others into this tomb. Perhaps she just didn't want to be alone with Shortclaw.

It was clear that someone had already been here. The corpses of the cultists and necromancers were fresh, and killed with precise blows without the telltale signs of having managed to struggle or fight back. Who could have done this? And where were the hostages?

The answer was at the bottom of the tomb. Two strangers awaited them. The first was a bizarre creature, limbs stained with blood. Obviously this one had played a role in executing the cultists. The other one, was much more interesting, and much more dire. A girl, with unnaturally white skin and a brimmed, pointed hat upon her head, and with jointed, prosthetic-looking fingers.

The effortless slaughter of the cultists. The monstrosity that stood alongside her. The brimmed hat and strange appearance. All of these pointed to a certain conclusion- this was a Witch, a practitioner of the terrible Witch-Queen's form of strange magic.

The others made their statements and remarks, all quite diplomatic as to account for the very real possibility that this witch could kill them all without breaking a sweat. For Roger, there wasn't much else he could chime in, except for one matter that had not been brought up yet.

"Commander, what of the captives?" he asked Velvetica, not wanting to address the witch directly. "The cultists may have been stopped, but these bodies don't account for everyone that they took."

@VitaVitaAR

This was bad. Very, very bad. Oh, it was easy to recognise that this was a Witch on an intellectual level, just from the description alone, and treat her as any other nigh-unassailable threat. As an idea, they weren't invincible, particularly if you had no illusions about killing them off for good. There had been more of their number, once upon a time. It had just cost an entire army before assembling a force that actually had a hope of winning.

And even then, a number had survived. Like this one.

On a magical level... this was terrifying. Part of it was just the heightened sensitivity to mana that came with being a mage, working with magic your entire life. The rest? Well, that was how she couldn't feel anything, which was something that would pass entirely without comment unless you had reason to expect that you would feel something. All Gisela could feel was the dissipating remnants of whatever magic the doll-like girl had been doing before coming down here.

Her actual presence? Silent. Too silent. She was someone whose presence should have been loud and heavy, impossible to ignore. But maybe that was fine, that was something that most powerful mages at least got some grip on over time, if they didn't have her particular issues. But to not give off any indication while doing something blatantly magical? Controlling that abomination beside her... maybe that was what had set everything off a minute ago. But just existing should have been a magical conflagration. That wasn't a natural body, a living one. Methods of immortality all took magic in some capacity, they couldn't be this silent. But she was. That doll gave off nothing, not a whisper. Whether the Witch was controlling it remotely or it was her actual body, she wasn't using any magic to do it. Not as magic was understood and studied, anyway.

And that was terrifying.

So, Gisela did exactly what any normal person would when confronted with someone that made them feel like a child again, and hid behind the nearest large, adult-seeming figure. In this case, that meant the amused arrival of one demon, stepping out into the world, a staff of some exotic-looking wood in hand. At least the steel caps on the end looked hefty.

"I'd fight this one for the fun of it, but I take it you don't want that?" the red-skinned warrior asked, amused by the hundi apparently trying to burrow into her back.

The Witch stepped forward, smiling pleasantly. The creature beside her was unmoving. It was disconcertingly still, unlike the Witch who moved much as one would expect from a living being in spite of the fact she was clearly a doll.

"My my, a Nem, I see?" she said, tilting her head as she spoke, "Seeing you reminds me I should make a nem doll~"

Placing her doll-jointed fingers to her mouth, the Witch giggled. If that was meant to be a compliment or a threat, it was impossible to tell.

Velvetica took a deep breath. Kayliss was correct, of course. There was absolutely no reason to start something here, even if they were facing a Witch. The doll girl, no matter how harmless she looked, was an incredibly powerful and unnatural practitioner of arts poorly understood even by the most learned of magi.

The Steel Princess had to confess she disliked even being near her. But, she was no fool.

Fighting her wasn't necessary. She wouldn't hesitate, even knowing her power was undoubtedly enormous, if it became so.

But striking without reason was foolish.

Still, Sir Roger was right. The absence of any of the prisoners was disconcerting to say the least.

"... You're right, Witch, this is only what we intended," she said, finally, "But this cult took prisoners. Where are they?"

"You don't have to refer to me as 'Witch' you know," responded the doll girl, steepling her fingers and winking, her tongue protruding playfully, "I do have a name."

Velvetica sighed heavily. It was clear the Witch would rather play games then give clear answers from the outset, but it was unlikely they had any other options at the moment.

"Then, what is your name?"

The Doll girl curtsied, eyes shut, head bowed.

"Tabitha. It's very nice to meet you~"

Tabitha.

The Doll Witch.

Some said that when the Doll Witch took an interest in someone, she stole them away. She kept them. She made them into dolls themselves. Even her own body was a doll, no longer flesh and blood but an imitation, pale, jointed, unliving. And yet she moved like a leaving thing. Beyond the paleness of her skin and the joints, Velvetica supposed it would be impossible to tell the difference. Even her skin appeared, aside from an unnatural shine, to be more far more like human skin then she would have expected from a doll.

"... If you took-"

"I know what you're going to ask," replied the Doll Witch, "And I had nothing to do with it. There were no prisoners when I arrived. Not even their bodies. Curious, isn't it?"

She sighed.

"Perhaps they discovered something more valuable they could do with the still-living? Maybe someone left something behind here that would let you know? Alas, I haven't the faintest idea where they may have gone..."

Valuable?

They weren't among the dead. If it was something more valuable... had the cultists sold them?

Or was she rushing to conclusions when the answer was already looking them in the face?

"In any case, as long as you don't plan on disturbing this tomb any further I have no intention of fighting you," the Witch continued, eyeing the demon briefly as she did, "There are simply some things that are better left alone, and you're far more likely to discover the clues you seek in the camp."

Velvetica's hand had not left Starshine's hilt, but she relaxed ever-so-slightly. There was little reason for the Witch to bother hinting at possible evidence for the location of the prisoners if she was the one who took them in the first place. Someone that powerful had no reason to mislead them.

"... However... I wonder if you truly believe yourselves capable? Can you really defend the land and its people from whatever may threaten it?"

What?

"Of course. I am sworn to Velt, and so are my Lions," Velvetica responded, narrowing her eyes. The tone of the Witch's voice...

"Shall we test that?"

She stepped back.

The twisted doll beside her surged forward.

@Raineh Daze@Rin@AzureKnight@Psyker Landshark@The Otter@VKAllen@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin@Conscripts@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@PigeonOfAstora

One second Krysia was reassuringly right in front of her, the next--well, the creaking of stressed wood gave it away, if you could somehow miss the enormous figure holding off the doll. Not that the demon appeared to be overly strained holding the massive blades it had for arms back, despite the way the staff was protesting the abuse. "Now, now, I can't let you get close to my puppy like that~"

This gave Gisela just enough time to realise that... hm, no, none of her magic was going to be suitable if this thing got into range of everyone else. That... might be a problem.

Then the demon broke off, jumping back to the hundi with a frustrating amount of agility for someone so huge and armoured. "But, I'm not interested in fighting your toy on its own."

Urden was content to leave diplomacy and discussion to the blue bloods, keeping an eye on the unmoving doll, the one that had likely done the lion's share, pun only mildly intended, of the work inside the cave. The doll Witch, Tabitha as she introduced herself, seemed mostly interested in them not prying further into the tomb itself. What did some all powerful Witch care about some forgotten tomb that had, until recently, entertained little more than corpses and their defilers? No point asking, he figured, not like the Witch would answer that question so readily. Especially given the nudges towards getting them to go back towards the camp. The daemon summoning wasn't lost on him either, he still didn't fancy himself terribly keen on the daemon being around, but he wasn't about to complain either. The moment the Witch began going on about whether or not the assembled Lions really had the means and will to defend the land and its people. Hell, long as Boss kept paying him, he'd follow orders readily enough, but it seemed that his previous thoughts on the slaughter doll were wise, as it launched forward.

Leave it to some fell blooded daemon to be that fast, armor and all, to intercept the slaughter doll. Urden dropped the torch, letting it fall to the ground as he readied his own axe, lunging forward while aiming an overhead strike straight for where the doll was going to be after the clash with the daemon. True to his original musings he planned on putting everything into this strike, either to smash the doll or create an opening for one of his allies to get a blow in. Either way he suspected letting themselves get pushed onto the backfoot would be an exercise in getting slaughtered. Still, despite the danger, the mercenary found the opportunity to bark a remark back at the Steel Princess as the Lions came to blows with the slaughter Doll the Witch had brought with her.

"This better count as hazard pay Boss!"

Lirrah swallowed heavily as the Witch giggled, but the smile never left her face. What did she mean by that? If she was going to make any Nem into a doll, she'd want Lirrah, wouldn't she? Lirrah was simply too cute and amazing, and would make too fantastic of a doll to pass up. Lirrah slowly backed away. Her negotiating didn't pan out quite how she wanted it to. If anything, it probably made her seem an appetizing plaything.

As Velvetica and Tabitha continued to talk, a few things came to light, but Lirrah was a bit more concerned with making herself look very small and non-threatening to give the words much credence. These tidbits were thoughts for later. Thoughts for when they weren't right in front of a super powerful doll woman. Still, things seemed to be calming down.

And then, when things were at their calmest, the storm broke out.

Sworn to Velt? Test your resolve? Lirrah nearly had a heart attack creeping through an empty tomb.

And Lirrah was no Lion.

The moment Tabitha's murder-doll sprang forward, Lirrah bolted. What could she do? A few plans ran through her mind, but they were all filled with so many uncertainties that she dare not even try. Acid was the only thing she had that might work, but the splashback might hurt whoever was engaged with it. Her experience in Nem archery made her a prime candidate to gum up the doll's joints with arrows, but she didn't know if she had the power to put an arrow into what she assumed was some sort of magically-enforced material. She was a slightly above-average archer with average gear.

But she did know of a better archer who might have better gear.

When Lirrah sprinted, it was glorious. Her stubby legs somehow carried her farther and faster than almost any Lion. Lirrah was always very proud of her speed, though that speed couldn't really be turned into power or competence on the battlefield. She jumped, slid, and rolled across the ancient debris like water flowing through a creek, never losing speed, and called out for Irian so as not to lose any time. They needed his help, not hers.

"IIII-RIIII-AAAN," Lirrah's terrified squeak echoed through the hallway, bursting through the entrance where the Elf was keeping watch, "THERE'S A WITCH! NOT FIGHTING! MURDER DOLL IS FIGHTING! SHOOT! SHOOT SCARY BLADE DOLL! NOT WITCH! NOT SHOOT WITCH!"

---

The rest of the Lions disappeared into the tombs leaving Irian and a number of guards just outside the stone gate, on alert, but with chatters here and there. Something something goats vs cows when it came to its milk taste. A conversation Irian would join, if not for the relative importance of making sure the entrance was clear of enemies in case of any evacuation were to be had, and absolutely not that he absolutely despised cow milk for giving him all sorts of discomfort, and joining that would just trigger bad memories. Just hope that things don't come to a boil with the guards.

The elf simply kept tabs on his surroundings with his bow resting on his thigh, his feet tapping on the ground to a melody in his head, something he commonly does whenever he needs to keep watch of the forest to ward away boredom. But the melody was quickly overridden to a high-pitched squeak. To the fortune of the recipient, Irian recognized that voice, and so knew to not have his weapon up upon arrival, but not without pain as the high-pitch continued onto the explanation.

"Wo-wo-woah, what murder doll? What witch?...Wait..."

Witch...Doll...Doll Witch?

"Stay here, yall." Irian gestured immediately upon suspicion towards the guards, who seemed just as confused as he was a few seconds ago. But the keywords Lirrah blurted out let him knew what his opponent might be, and the arrow he drew from his quiver glowed a cyan color. "Chill, I'm here. Just guide me there, alright?"

@Octo

Lirrah's body practically vibrated, twitching like a nervous rodent as Irian prepared himself. Lirrah tried to catch her breath, but couldn't. She breathed in and out rapidly, but somehow felt like she was suffocating. As Irian's quiver glowed, however, a small part of her panic was assuaged. He weaved magic into his archery. That would surely be a boon. More than Lirrah could do, certainly.

Her surprising speed, and Irian's swiftness in turn, would bring then quickly back near where Lirrah had fled. Her arm trembled as she pointed towards the chamber, where the sounds of combat still echoed. She tried to explain the situation better on their short trip back, but mostly ended up crying and sputtering. Then, as if she had just run twenty miles without rest, Lirrah collapsed to her knees well outside of the combat area.

Despite her selfishness, her manipulative nature, and her cowardice, she really did want to stand with the Lions.

But her legs did not listen to her heart.

"T-this... a-as far as I... I can g-go," Lirrah wheezed through her pained hyperventilating, "h-help them... I would... g-get in the way... t-this time."

Goddesses, but she despised inscrutable magic users. As tempted as Kayliss was to uncork her bottle of antimage venom and aim for the Witch, prudence restrained her. If this truly was some sort of demented test, escalation would only end poorly. The Nem merchant apparently fleeing the battle almost had Kayliss hurling a dagger into her back before she'd begun screaming for the rear guard to join in the fight. Well. That was sensible, at least. She'd let her live for now, then.

Instead, Kayliss turned her attention back towards the Doll and the demon holding it back. The problem with fighting animated objects was that her techniques and training centered around killing the living, with such things as blood vessels and weak, fleshy spots. It was likely too much to hope that this Doll was shoddily-crafted enough to simply come apart with judicious application of force on a weak joint, but doing nothing wasn't an option here.

With that in mind, the Crownsblade reached up to her bandolier and took a brace of throwing daggers into her hands, darting to the side and starting to hurl them one by one at the Doll, testing its sturdiness by hurling individual daggers towards what would be weak spots on a living being's body. Joints, neck, wherever the wood was thinnest.

Any chance of getting out of this without further fighting was dashed to pieces upon hearing the Witch mentioning testing. He shouldn't have been surprised, given that they were dealing with a Witch. In his mind, for those possessing such vast magical power, everyone else was nothing more than a source of entertainment. Still, at least she wasn't actually trying to kill them- that would be far, far more difficult to survive.

Even with the witch just letting them fight the construct, it still would be a formidable foe. Given the state of the cultists' bodies, it had managed to kill them with disturbing efficiency. Its strange appearance and gait meant that its attacks and movements would be unlike fighting any human foe. However, with its quadrupedal stance and bladed front limbs, Roger saw some potential parallels to that of a griffin and its wicked front talons, something that he was quite familiar with.

Roger rushed forward to near where Urden was. The demon's intervention had bought them a temporary reprieve to move and reposition, but she broke it off as abruptly as she had initiated it, leaving the construct once again able to attack. As the mercenary attacked from the front, the griffin knight flanked it from the side, stabbing at its torso with his spear.

---

Cultists' Lair

---

The doll-like witch introduced herself as Tabitha, thought she still did not explain her actual purpose here. She made a rather chilling comment in regards to making a nem doll, addressing Lirrah who was still cowering in the back of the group. After another exchange of words between Tabitha and the captain, the witch at first stated that she wouldn't engage the Lions so long as they held no intention of further disturbing the crypt. Valmyra thought about why that in particular mattered to her. Was this one of the areas where she conducted her crimes against nature? She'd have to worry about that later, it seemed, as Tabitha decided to test the abilities of the squad after all. The witch decided to remain in her current spot while her doll monster lunged forward to initiate combat.

The little nem merchant immediately ran for safety in the back, not having the stomach for tense combat situations. She honestly couldn't blame the little one, and she did call for the rear guard to back them up. She already picked up on Irian's and Kayliss's scents getting closr. That's good, she thought, as there's at least safety in numbers.

Urden and Hec- she meant Roger had opted to engage the monster head on, acting as the vanguard for the battle. Valmyra she'd remain at a distance for right now, falling back on her predatory instincts to quietly observe her prey for any particular weaknesses. She quickly followed up on any opening made by her teammates, maximizing damage in the most brutal way possible.

She supposed it'd only be right to keep an eye on Lirrah as well, should anything go awry...

As promised, Tabitha didn't raise a finger. She didn't even move, simply smiling as she observed the ensuing clash.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the abominable doll monster. Indeed, the demon's strength was able to hold the construct back, long enough for Velvetica to steady herself and take stock of it as swiftly as she could.

Damnable Witch.

Even if someone for some unfathomable reason, wanted to be charitable towards them, they would be forced to acknowledge that their morality was fundamentally not the same as a human being's.

The doll's anatomy was not like a human's. If anything, it resembled some sort of twisted spider with human-like traits, its foremost pair of limbs tipped in those impeccably sharp and precise blades. Additionally, it was a doll. It was unlikely there were any weak points as would be expected on a living thing. No internal organs. No brain. Nothing.

But that didn't mean it was entirely without weaknesses.

Velvetica drew Starshine, the blade smoothly leaving its sheath.

Urden's initial blow failed to do more then slightly crack the doll's exterior, but it did at least prove it was possible to damage.

Unfortunately, it was also quick to retaliate, its forelimbs raising back, elbows bending in the opposite direction one would expect a human-like limb to be capable of as they prepared to strike.

The spear-strike to its left flank did serve to distract it for a crucial moment, its left forelimb bending the opposite direction to lash out at Sir Roger almost immediately, granting Urden crucial window of escape. However, the spear itself did not deal significant damage, skittering across its procelain-like surface and leaving only a barely-visible scar in whatever arcane material composed it.

Velvetica moved forward, but didn't strike immediately. The option to utilize Starshine's abilities was immediately opened in her mind, but before that...

The doll possessed no internal organs, and did not appear to feel significant pain. Instead, it seemed to target threats in proximity and move to eliminate them as quickly as possible. But it still had to move in order to do this. The only way a doll could function was by having its joints be thinner and more flexible to permit movement.

And that meant they couldn't be as durable.

"The limbs! Disable its limbs," Velvetica called, "Aim for the joints!"

Most of Kayliss's knives bounced off of the doll's body without causing visible damage. However, one briefly stuck in the joint of one of its middle limbs. It wasn't enough to prevent it from moving entirely, not yet, but it forced the construct to jerk the leg oddly to restore mobility and dislodge it. A blow from closer range, or a sturdier weapon, perhaps...

Unfortunately, it seemed the abomination was not their only opponent.

Just as Velvetica was about to move in and strike towards the large construct's rear set of limbs, she heard something stirring.

From the dark corners of the room, what previously looked like debris suddenly stirred.

Star white, with lifeless, dull eyes and mindlessly smiling expressions, further dolls rose. These were more human-like, naked but possessing no explicit anatomical features. Unlike the Witch's body, they were far more obviously artificial. They were shaped like young girls, but their arms ended in a pair of razor-edged blades.

"Tch...!"

It was clear the test was not intended to be an easy one, but Velvetica refused to be cowed by dolls. The Steel Princess drew Starshine to the level of her eyes, its tip pointed at the nearest of the approaching constructs.

The largest and most inhuman of them was clearly the greatest threat, but the lesser dolls could surround and kill anyone attempting to focus on it.

They couldn't be ignored.

"If you are not already engaged, hold back the lesser dolls!"

@Raineh Daze@Rin@AzureKnight@Psyker Landshark@The Otter@VKAllen@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin@Conscripts@HereComesTheSnow@Octo@PigeonOfAstora

The recoil of the strike along Urden's arm told him a lot more than how it looked. That was tougher than most metal armors he could claim to have come across in his career, and while his first thought was to try and use the spike on his axe to breach the hide on the damned thing, its response made it very clear that was not going to be a luxury he was going to have. Given the inhuman movements of its arms, he was about to try and react to the strikes when the flanking spear strike gave him an opening to duck backwards, shifting the grip on his axe. The spike wasn't nearly as good for lightly armored targets, given he had to be much more precise as to where the blow landed, but given the hardy construction of the slaughter doll, even the joints, as Boss shouted out about, wouldn't be easily cleaved off. Next best thing was destroying the joints completely, hopefully.

"Right then, let's do this."

Out of the corner of his eye, Urden registered the warning of additional, smaller dolls moving to assist the slaughter doll. Surrounded, then, that was just fantastic. Still, push came to shove, he'd at least force the doll Witch to have to rebuild this slaughter doll. Even with its inhuman arms, it couldn't defend from all directions, hopefully. Shifting his position to strike from an opposing direction from 'Hector' and aiming a strike right for one of its sword arm joints, putting his typical amount of normally excessive force into the swing. If it was turning to keep him in focus it may very well not end but hell, there wasn't any other option. Not like he could just disengage and go trash small dolls, he'd have to leave those to the others. If it didn't turn to track him, well, then they could see just how aware it was of its surroundings. Either way, they had better odds striking from opposing sides than they did all rushing side by side in this case.