First Blow
Maher Adoni

Maher Cursed as his spell showed none of the effect of the first attack, evidently it as not an elemental reaction to water that had caused the effect... and that was about as far as his thoughts got before he realised the construct was diving straight at him and instinctively tried to deflect the attack with a blast of water. The Impact still came, and still hurt... a lot he realised as he tried to roll onto his back from where he had landed. Cracked ribs were unfortunately not a new sensation for him, Templar training was harsh at times and life on the road before that had not always been easy either. He also knew that meant there was little he could do about it until the Gargoyle was defeated.

He tried unsuccessfully to contain his outburst of pain as Thailen gripped him under the arms and dragged him to the lone tree on the hill. He considered for a moment using his magic to numb the pain from his ribs, but such use of magic was delicate if he didn't want to overdo it and it meant he would be effectively out of action while he did so leaving his comrades a man down in their struggle. Instead he gritted his teeth as Thailen propped him against the trunk of the tree and he thanked her. He was about to start casting again when he felt a familiar presence, someone he had met once or twice at the Templar Order with Taigyn. He grinned. "Worry not about the demon, as much as it seems contradictory he is a member of the blades." He said to Thailen, wincing slightly as he did. "Focus on the Gargoyle, try and keep it distracted, a friend is nearby and if she can hit the construct by surprise I think we can gain the advantage." His piece said he refocused his own attention on the construct and began casting again.

He might be wounded, but he could still cast, he wasn't about to just sit back... well technically he was sitting back against the tree... but he wasn't going to be idle while his comrades fought, that and the Gargoyles mocking remark about him not understanding galled a little. It had awoken him to the error of trying to use trial and error as a method of discovering how to hurt the creature instead of sticking with what he had seen work already. It may not have had a lasting or sudden effect the first time, but mixing his arts had stunned the construct for a time and if who he thought he felt was coming, anything they could do to keep the Gargoyles attention would help. His mind made up he mouthed the incantation for the water and anti-magic blast he had used before and let the spell speed towards its target.

Sarah's Request

Eins Nimgrud

---

Eins was just feeling more than a little bit pleased with herself before she sensed something was amiss with the gold pouch she picked up. Quick as lightning, she moved her hand towards whatever it was emerging from inside the pouch and thoroughly crushed it in an armored fist.

"..what the bloody..."

A spider. Poisonous, she would guess from the angry red markings it had on its body. Damned underground buildings, infested with vermins and the likes. The next time she should ever see another pouch, she'd make sure to stomp on it first.

The male drow's shoutings were ignored; nothing good came out of listening to a drow. She crossed over the drawings on the floor, edging closer to the mirror as she approached the dead dwarf. There was nothing else she could tell about the dwarf other than he died horribly, then got webbed all over by spiders. While there was nothing to suggest she was in immediate danger, the thing in her head squirmed uneasily.

Then she took a glance in the mirror, almost looking away before noticing she looked different. She looked.... well, clean for the first part. People who was in her sort of profession didn't often have time to visit a bath house in the middle of a battlefield after all. But it wasn't only that, she seemed to have quite a curve; her breast were fuller, she herself had gotten a bit taller, and her face seemed to glow. Her face.... her....

The thing in her head squirmed harder, enough to cause her a bit of pain, her hand reflexively pressing against it.

Her fake eye, it seemed, was not impressed.

She suddenly realized she had been staring at the mirror for quite a bit, and tore her gaze away. What on earth just happened? There wasn't any time for her to ponder however, for from her left, from a corridor she had previously thought impassable thus not worth mentioning, a horde of spiders seemed to crawl out.

"Slay them! Guard the Master! Slay the two-legs!"

"Oh, bloody..." She turned tails immediately, retreating back through the door. "Oi, stop fondling the dwarves! We have monsters afoot!"

She stopped her sprinting just short of the bridge, pivoting suddenly, bringing her sword about in a sweep towards the nearest of the spiders pursuing her. Bringing a halt to her swing, she held her sword at the ready, preparing for another strike should another spider dare come within range of her sword.

Will those other people help her? She was more afraid of being eaten by spiders at this point than being stabbed in the back. Being eaten was not how she wanted to go out.

Sarah's Request

Kasim found it a rather interesting experience to watch his own predictions come true. He stood on the bridge, watching Eins stare into the mirror. "I fucking warned her." His mutter was equal parts shock and awe. "I told her so, didn't I? People who get ahead of the group always end up setting off traps and waking up monsters, that's what I said. Look at her, trapped like a fly in honey." He was grinning at this point, pleased by his burgeoning skills in prognostication. First the bottomless pit, now this. The stories were always right, it seemed. That came as no great surprise to Kasim, not really, but he was starting to feel like he understood those people in the old religious stories, the ones who had believed in their god their whole life and suddenly found themselves facing their lord made flesh. It was exhilarating. His heart was racing and he was sure his face was flushed. Metaphors comparing his current feelings to sex fluttered through his mind, but he discarded them as quickly as they arrived.

As he was turning to say more to the others to praise his own accomplishment, Kasim saw Eins finally move. Disappointed though he was that she'd saved herself, some strange sound coming from her direction seemed more important to focus on at the moment. His face scrunched up in perplexity for just a moment before another beaming grin burst forth. "Monsters! I called that too!" Kasim couldn't see them yet, just Eins running back toward them, but it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. He'd seen something that looked like a spider in that vision he got when reading the dwarf's mind, the Underdark was known to be home to the things, and here was just the kind of chittery-skittery sound stories struggled to describe accurately when talking about the creatures, so it was probably some spiders. They'd probably be big ones too, if they could take down dwarves.

Although he'd never shot a spider with an arrow, Kasim figured they'd go down just like anything else. He hurried to ready his bow and an arrow, and he had one nocked by the time Eins spun back round to face the threat. She was blocking most of the doorway from his point of view, but odds were the things would spread out and try to encircle her. Kasim stepped over to the right side of the bridge and took up his shooting stance. He drew the arrow back as far as it would go, his bicep straining against his close-fitting shirt as he held it ready. Whenever Kasim shot, he made sure his strength was in it and the arrow dug as deep into its target as possible. Whatever creature he saw come into clear view on Eins's right side first would be the lucky recipient of his attentions from afar. Though he didn't consciously realize it, the grin was still plastered on Kasim's face as he waited to fire.

Here Cometh the Wolves

---

Clan H'risshrii – Saul and Rexel

As Saul enters the sandstone building, he would instantly notice the great sunken pits in all four corners with large lit coal pits at their center and metal grills overtop them with meat roasting. It was, for the most part, the only illumination not at the center of the expansive room. It lit up lizardfolk all stirring to attention and looking at the intruding humans in their midst. However, that seemed to be where the most of the activity was... For in the center of the room was a large sunken ring with lit torches held up about its perimeter. The only thing that would draw his attention from the battle-scoured and blood-stained floor before him, was the only elevated feature in the room...

Directly across from him, atop a stone daise was a pile of lush pillows and streaming silk banners marked with the symbol of the clan. The only way to truly describe the pillow arrangement, perhaps, was a throne of comfort erected for a single figure lounging lazily in solid beams of sunlight cut into astrological symbols. A throaty rumble comes from him as a lizardwoman traces over his clawed hands.

Tension buzzes throughout the room as the lizards quietly slink and spread their claws and part their razor-teeth decorated jowls, with what might appear to Saul as discolored saliva dripping off their fangs. Rexel tenses, hand beginning to descend to his weapon once more in fright. However, the guard who let them in remains passive until a small, lanky albino lizardman limps forward, mouth spread into a wide smile. His buggy eyes dart about the place, seeing things that were not there as he clenches his staff. The guard remains quiet for a time before the shaman's eyes suddenly snap to and focus upon Saul. It was almost impossible for the shaman's eyes to go wider, but upon seeing Saul, he somehow managed it. The vast expanse of red flickers over Saul's entire being before a high-pitched shrill cry leaves him, only to continue in a similar manner as he talks in a detached manner, “Warrior! WARRIOR! Nooooo, no no no no, a Leeeeeader! A LEADER YESSSS! Meant for great thingsss GREAT THINGSSS! But human, human human, how weak, WEAK! Sssseee tragedy, death, suffering... Demons.... DEMONS?! WHERE?!” He shrieks and darts to the side, looking around frightfully as he quivers and raises his skulled staff to strike at an invisible being. “No... Not here, not here, not yet...” He rocks from side to side, humming a high, nasally song before tapping his staff down, “Why is human here, Que'la'quin?”

The lizard guard straightens up and peers down at the small shaman. “He come about night-killer. Think H'risshrii be.... sssset up, maybe?” He rolls his shoulders disinterestedly and looks at the Clansmaster who had begun to stir at the shrieking of the clan's shaman. “He want talk Varro.”

A shudder runs down the shaman's spine, from skull to tail. Suddenly, he is hopping from foot to foot as if standing upon one of the coal pits. “NO NO NO! VARRO NOT WELL! I WILL HELP HIM! HELP HIM BACK! NO OUTSSSIDER!”

A deep rumble comes, as if the stirring of a dragon itself before fading into an exasperated hiss, “Enough, A'dissis. I will talk with this human 'leader' so bold as to seek us out, in the heart of our land.” The Clansmaster straightens up, a large hulking figure in the shadows, save for the dancing stars and moon signs dancing over his muscled chest. “Come, Smoothskin warrior. I am S'biss, Clansmaster of H'risshrii. Speak with me,” the booming voice of the Clansmaster commands. The shaman A'dissis attempts to quiet himself, and it appeared to be a visible struggle for him. So much so that he utters a squeak, only to clamp his scrawny arms full around his mouth to seal off any further noise.

***

Pack Denebir – Jellial and Esyllt

The pack thinned as they went, to which Maylene merely explained them as the forward scouts going out. It would seem most of the ones in bestial form were gone now, save for a diminutive rat man, whom they had briefly been introduced formally as Pustin Stain the Infested. However, everyone seemed satisfied to just call him Pinkie. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jellial could see the rat-figure glaring daggers at him... before promptly getting into a one of many fits of scratching and cursing. The infested title certainly made sense, now... Though, fleas may be the least of the creature's worries considering the overpowering perfume of the sewer he had to be wearing. It was terrible even to Esyllt, yet Maylene seemed to just ignore it as if it was nothing.

After a few more twists and turns, Esyllt would get the distinct feeling as if they had already passed this area not once but several times already. But, it would seem Maylene had finally called for a stop. For a moment, she stares at Jellial, giving him apologetic smile before gesturing for Pustin to go off. Pustin casts one final glare at Jellial before scurrying off into the light shadows between buildings... Only to immediately begin to scale the walls as if it were nothing. The could not hear or see where the rat had gone or what he was up to, but quickly enough, he hops off the top of the building and lands beside Maylene, looking up at her with a wide fanged grin, “You were right, they were not alone. The scouts found a few sneaky tails following, but they are dealt with.” He chortles, small pink clawed hands itching at his snout, “They will not find the den so easily, following fools.”

Maylene raps him upside the head for the last comment before nodding to the partially collapsed building before them, “We go in here... I hope you two are not squeamish in small, dark places... Pustin and a few of the others are awful savvy when it comes to tunneling and subterranean navigation... and there is a whole system below Port Luclin we can move about undetected. No need to ruffle feathers of the locals when we can get anywhere we want from there.”

She was not lying when she talked about tunneling. The first leg of the journey began in the backroom of the house, hidden behind broken debris of furniture... A simple, corroded ladder lead them down, where they dropped into a small cavern... with low-ceilinged tunnels in three directions. Pustin looks about, eyes glittering in delight to be back in the dark before moving about and sniffing each tunnel. He quirks his head to the side before baring his teeth, “Someone's been down, aside from pack.”

Maylene shrugs and waves him off dismissively, “We've never been able to keep all the vagrants out, you know this, it is nothing new.” Pustin lets out a low snarl before sighing in acquiesce. “He is protective of the Underground. He lead the project years ago to connect the sewers and create new passages. We thought it was mad at first, but seeing things build up as they have, all the racial tension... Well, we might not be on the receiving end of this hatred... but before too long, we may not be able of moving about as freely as we once have. So, while we hope for the best, we cannot help but be thankful to the... more innovative and cynical of our kind, who have built up safe-havens across Tuleria.”

Pustin's tail twitches proudly while he preens his whiskers before stopping, “Right, let us go. We are not far now...” The wererat feels over the wall before tapping just at a small groove in the shape of flared star, “If lost down here, these lead the way to the pack. Never get lost.... Well, usually. But some eat good on the remains.” He giggles at the last comment as Maylene grimaces at his comment before starting down the tunnel after the rat... It would seem none of them felt the need to light a torch.

***

Krikshar's Clinic – Laenaia, Shria, Bastian, James

Perhaps James had been true to his world and was spanning the rooftops and crossing in shadows along the way, but Laenaia had not seen him since they left the outpost. Shria and Bastian had elected to stay together, seeing how the other two groups had left without them anyways. Now, they were accompanying Laenaia as her guide to the clinic. They were comfortable as they strolled through the streets, avoiding crowded areas. As they told Laenaia, they were also avoiding troublesome districts and territories of various small factions as they went too. This, seemed to be the case as they reached the clinic with no issues.

It was a modest sized building of imported wood painted white. Across the front were several small raised flower boxes with plants of various areas and types well tended. Above the door hung an outstretched sign with a painted winged pole with twin snakes wound about it. It was unmistakable, it was a doctor's clinic. The fine glass panes were open and from outside, Laenaia could see a series of hospital beds. Only two were occupied. A middle-aged woman tended to the pair as they writhe and cry out in agony. In their twisting pain, Laenaia can make out that one might be a small scrawny child and the other a human woman. Perhaps a mother and son afflicted by the same illness? Shria and Bastian hesitate, looking in with sympathetic eyes, but eventually focusing on the child with an angry hiss. “We cannot go in,” Bastian says simply, plopping down onto the sandy path outside the clinic. Shria hesitates before shaking her head, “Perhaps you may not, but I shall. I am not fearful of the little folks.” Her gaze darts to Laenaia, “Little desert tribesmen... Tinkerers... Gnomes you smoothskins call them?” She shakes her head and begins to walk into the clinic, “It was long ago, and we are not purebloods anyway. Why he holds so strongly to lizardfolk tradition when we are... Not accepted, I do not know.”

Inside, the lobby of the clinic was made to be comfortable for those who must wait outside. Large worn leather couches were along one wall with a dining table near the other. Shria hesitates, looking about the room, “The good doctor, he might be in the back room. Usually he is otherwise tending his patients or resting in here... He may have been brought a new victim. Should we wait or go check?” she appeared uncertain. Laenaia could logically draw that Shria was not comfortable at being in charge.

Cease Fire | Alhvaharyis

It was... interesting. The events up to now were... interesting. There was a strange, hollow, emptiness inside Alhvaharyis. Again, that same detatched feeling. Chaos was raging all around him, but it was like he were in a bubble, or perhaps viewing events not quite pertaining to him. Lothar was fighting Davian, and the Templars were fighting the last of the Papacy, and Draza was actually facing off against Greed! Greed! Alhvaharyis giggled. Apparently, the Lord had been called by his summons. It had not been his intention to call Greed, but Greed had come, nonetheless. If he was capable of this, on accident, perhaps, if he investigated more in this direction... hah! What a foolish thought. The irony of a Papacy noble... quite delicious. Alhvaharyis stored the thought in the back of his mind.

Carefully treading around Greed, Alhvaharyis moved towards where the Papacy mercenary leader was engaged in battle. He drew his knife and waited for an opportunity to present itself, still grinning slightly.

It would seem fortune was with Alhvaharyis. A Templar and Republic soldier were tag-teaming against the Papacy's muscle and were working in synchronicity. It would seem the Republic had some Templar training when it came to combat itself. The Templar knocks up the Papite Templar's weapon and cries for a switch, in which the Republic soldier comes in and grapples away the two-handed sword. The enemy lets out a cry as his hands slip from the grip and the weapon goes flying. Alhvaharyis saw his chance, a large gap in the Templar's armour and surges forth, thrusting his blade upwards into the gap... And hits home. The enemy Templar wheezes out, eyes wide and begins to collapse.

His grin widening, Alhvaharyis plunged the blade deeper into the Papacy soldier. He felt warm, viscous blood gushing down and soaking his hand, and the man's soul flowing into him. Still trapped inside a bubble, Alhvaharyis stretched.

"Well," he said, brightly, "cooperation is a wonderful thing, is it not? Now, let us finish off the remaining mercenaries."

He wondered if they found his expression odd, then noted that was quite a curious thing to wonder. Alhvaharyis shrugged, and turned his attention to the others.

The two who had helped attack against the leader of the mercenaries were uncertain, looking at Alhvaharyis and his mad grin. A chill runs through the Templar of the two as he begins to back away, "Dark mage..." he growls, before moving to help his kin. The Republic soldier eventually nods, but appeared to be distracted. Perhaps it was Greed's maddened cries and laughter to blame. Either way, the Republic soldier slips in alongside an ally struggling against the final two mercenaries.

And perhaps it was the first's distration that threw off the timing of his ally as he jumped in with no concern. The first of the soldiers attempted to raise arms to block the attacking papacy mercenary, but the weapon was easily swatted away. And as if a demon possessed, the other mercenary lunges in and strikes clean through the throat of the fumbling soldier. The ally cries out in horror and attempts to drive away the attacker in hopes of saving their ally. They begin to slip in the blood pooling on the floor. The first attacker readies for another blow, but Alhvharyis manages to land a strike from behind, biting deep into their armour. The attack was not as clean as against the leader of the group, yet it was enough to save the careless soldier and weaken the mercenary.

"Hey..." Alhvaharyis whispered to the mercenary, radiating an aura of fear, "quis custodiet ipsos custodies?"

The mercenary's eyes widen in shock and confusion from the strange words and sudden biting blade. "Gywhat?!" He gasps, struggling to get away. Where had this man come from?! In the background Greed begins cackling wildly, "Yes yes YES Alhvaharyis! YOU ARE DOING WONDERFULLY!"

"Nobody!" Alhvaharyis chuckled, lunging forward and plunging his blade down.

First Blow – Alexander Lyre

The last zombie fell with a satisfying crunch of bone as the skull exploded. He gave a quick tight grin and it faded at the sound of bolts ripping through the air. He spun around in time to look at the see the multitude scatter across the air, and only two managed to splinter across the stone hide. Worse, Wren was staring at the thing, analyzing the monster. Which sadly meant she had no good way to kill it either, after the demon’s spectacular failure. The gecko stared at him. Its lifeless eyes sent a slight shudder of revulsion down his spine.

The water splashing harmlessly off the gargoyle snapped his gaze back on target, and the monster chuckled horribly, before taking to the air and slamming into the Maher. He flew past Alex and landed with a wet thump. Alex snarled and checked the air for their erstwhile friend. Nothing showed in a quick glance, and Thalien dashed towards the injured man groaning on the ground. Alex raised the left pistol. "Alex," she called as she passed, "Aim for the face! Keep it distracted, try to blind it." ,Alex could hear her say, "Blessed be the Twins," The lucky bastard managed to live, and Alex took a steadying breath. It adrenaline coursing through his veins was starting to make him jittery, and he needed to keep rock steady hands to make sure he put a bullet in that things eyes.

“Erasmus,” Alex called as he took a steadying step forward, and slid the right pistol back into the holster, “I got your back, keep that thing off me.” His right hand moved through a series mystical gestures, imbuing the bullet with a simple enchantment. Whatever it hit would be enveloped mystical shadows, although this spell definitely worked better at dusk, where the lighting tended to enhance the effect. Even in the middle of the day, it would work for a few moments. He lined up a shot on the monstrous head. A good distraction, better with a bullet in the eye. He took a deep breath. “Oy, ugly!” Alex shouted, “I got a present for you!” Hopefully, the thing would look straight at him as the pistol barked again, another cloud of black smoke and heavy metal bullet on its way. His hand instinctively began a faster reload, the free hand expediting the process.

Erasmus winced as the gargoyle flew away from him, openly disregarding his attempts to draw it in before and had crashed into Maher, seemingly injuring it somewhat. He realised he couldn’t sit back against the creature, it was far more cunning than he’d thought and hoped it’d be. Alexander called out from him to protect him from the creature, but he noticed with a cautious glance that he was attempting to throw enchantments on the bullets he was firing. “I’ve got that, just keep those bullets firing in. Hopefully we can draw it into attacking us.”

He hefted his shield on his shoulder again and rolled his sword in his hand; the thought of going all-out attack against the gargoyle but that would seem like a foolish idea given what it’d done to Maher. It was proving a fearsome adversary and no-one had managed to have any real luck managing to injure the creature; even his anti-magic field which hadn’t been stopped before was proving to be useless. He’d now noticed they had a new member of their group; a foul demon which despite its unearthly origins seemed to be trying to help them. The worm of doubt worked its way into his head about what the demon would do if he turned his back but if they were to bring this creature down, everyone would be needed. However once, if, they brought this gargoyle down then the demon may find himself facing a new set of enemies.

Amazonia Imperiia

---

Kraith cocked his head at Mira and Elyssa. "I'm honoured," he said mockingly, "You know what they say about human males feet relative to their... prowess?, it goes doubly for our kind so 'little' doesn't really apply except for our height." He kept the stone out of sight wondering what he would do about it. It was hardly damning evidence, with his own necromancy he'd come across such before, and the potential of this stone was massive.

Noticing Richelieu and the Princess emerge Kraith avoided looking guilty instead cocking his head. "So what are our plans now?" Kraith asked.

He knew his plans so far had fallen short. While they had revealed some things of interest none of them were relevant to the task at hand. And so, waiting for the rest Kraith examined the area, and the princess further. Looking for something out of place. And yet nothing. Kraith frowned to himself. Why was this so clean? Then it occurred to him. Maybe there was no demonic influence? Maybe this was a princess simply making a desperate grab for power instead. It was a simple plan with a simple motive, the princess wants power, mother dearest isn't dying fast enough, throw an accusation of demonic possession towards the Queens Blades and Renalta would send representatives not just to mediate, but to remove mother dearest.

Once mother dearest was removed her options were greater, refuse Imperial aid, stand on her own and villainise the Queens Blades for murdering her mother and ensure her own dominance, or celebrate the Blades actions, forward evidence, true or false, to substantiate her claim, like a powerful Soul Gem, and claim power without opposition.

But he didn't yet have enough evidence to judge. It was time to see what the others have learned.

Here Cometh the Wolves

Tuleria was just full of new experiences. If her walk through the city and harbour had dazzled Esyllt, the events down here simply overwhelmed her senses. She occasionally had to keep herself from gagging from the stench the ratman carried, although these attempts were met with variable degrees of success. It was not the most graceful of her moments, but fortunately it seemed appearances mattered less down with the pack than in their previous company. If Putin was any indication, at least. Esyllt wasn't sure if his stench was getting to her mind, or they'd been walking in circles... Which would make sense considering she was not part of the pack. Although the following party Putin mentioned could also be the reason... She tried to map the route out in her head, but with all there was to take in, Esyllt could not make a clear picture.

“Maylene, if I may ask, there is something I've been wondering.” Esyllt asked as they stepped into the tunnels. “How is it you noticed my telepathy? It's never happened before.” The question was partly because Esyllt genuinely wondered, but also partly because it'd allow her to follow the sound of Maylene's voice in the dark tunnels.

Sarah's Request
(Sarzu & Andrea Collab)

When he saw the foolish human cross the arcane symbol and stare at the mirror Naream was about to voice his disappointment with humans out loud but when she moved whatever he was about to say was irrelevant and he quickly closed his mouth. Instead he got a curious expression on his face and looked at the warrior woman with narrowed eyes, "Fascinating... I wonder..." The sentence was trailed off as it was clear they were not alone as the warrior shouted out, unnecessary really because he could hear the skittering of legs, it had been ages but he had grown up down here, among the Drow, he shared a glance with Andrea. "Orbben." He said, hissing through his teeth as the familiar sounds of skittering arachnids in the room beyond became clear.

He ignored the human, both of them and turned to his wights pointing over the bridge and at the room with Eins. "Yutrquns, elgg l'orbben, sslig'ne l'waela rivvil." At once the wights turned and started marching over the bridge, brandishing the Dwarf loaned weaponry. Closing the distance to the room to walk through the doorway and slay the spiders as their master instructed them to do. The master in question meanwhile had opened his tome on a particular page, the title reading 'N'tranz'luin'. His hand reaching for a dagger that looked more ceremonial than practical at his waist, pulling it free to reveal it was stained with dried up blood. He hissed as he cut open a scarred line on his thumb, pressing the bloodied appendage on a mark on the page. Instead of leaving a stain of crimson the blood was absorbed, greedily and the mark started to glow, dim at first but brighter as more droplets of blood were consumed by the tome until finally he let go. Shaking his head and about to utter a summoning incantation when he felt the blade at his throat and stared at the furious eyes of a Drow female.

*

Great, she thought to herself, more trouble. Cursing silently under her breath she could hear the sound of spiders, their skittering legs and mandibles easily heard were both a blessing and a curse. Spiders... her goddess's sign, clearly this was a good sign, the presence of spiders meant that her goddess was still with her, at the same time these spiders would probably want them death and Llolth was known for being... greatly displeased with those who killed her arachnids, but she was not looking forward to be spider food either. With a growl she took a step back, perhaps the humans could kill the spiders while she and the necromancer could just sit back and wait. At least that is what she thought but then she heard the Drow male speak to his pet undead, he ordered them to kill the spiders!?

She stared at the necromancer, her thoughts racing, he would kill aspects of their goddess!? Either he was a fool... or worse... a heretic. Her dagger was still in her hand as she approached the male, muttering some kind of incantation and doing something with that blasted tome of his. She pressed the metal of her blade against his flesh just as opened his eyes from whatever he was doing. <"You dare to lay a hand on spiders!? What kind of Drow are you! Heretic!"> She whispered, looking to make sure the human would not notice this exchange from the corner of her eye, making sure his back was still to them.

Naream stared back at her and let out a mental sigh, so she was one of those spider worshiping bitches... he had hoped with the gods banished they would have died out by now. He kept eye contact, frantically trying to maintain his concentration on the spell he was about to unleash as well. <"The gods are banished Llolth bitch, your precious goddess is death along with all the others and I am the kind of Drow who likes to survive.">

With a silent snarl she pressed the blade against his flesh, drawing a trickle of blood that dripped down his neck. <"Blasphemy... she is not dead you fool.">

He didn't flinch, afraid she would cut his neck deeper and he glared at her, <"Banished then, same difference. I won't let that stop me from becoming spider bait and will kill them before they can kill me or you for that matter, so either cut my throat and throw me to spiders or let me finish!"> He said with a hiss, now enraged himself as he felt the energies of his spell building up and he either had to decide to cancel it, cast it, or have the energies continue building up and do something unpleasant to his internal organs.

She stared at Naream for a moment longer before pulling her dagger away in one quick move, she was unhappy with the decision but she had no other option, she still needed the humans and this blasted heretic. She did not let him have the last word however. <"Be mindful of what you say about the goddess, I know more than you can possibly imagine, you foolish male.">

<"Whatever"> He replied and after that ignored her, taking a step forward and then almost fell over, groaning as he went down on one knee and then with a shout let the words spew forth from his mouth in a rush, relieved that the energy he had build up to summon his next servant was not going to waste... or would blow him up. On the rock floor just upon entry of the chamber where the spider sounds were coming from the same mark he had bled upon appeared, only bigger and a portal opened for a second before it closed, leaving a sole occupant in the mark as it faded from view. At the same time one of the wights he had under his control stopped and collapsed into a pile of bones.

Bones of all manner of creatures, bonded together with arcane energies, flesh and muscle tendons stood rigid and then the eyes glowed as the golem became active. Still shuddering Naream wiped his nose, ignoring the blood that had come from his nostrils and glared at the construct. "Xuat fridj fre'sla gaer! Elgg l'orbben jal'yur!" He shouted in exaggeration and was relieved to see as the bone and flesh golem started to move to engage the arachnids. While he weakly went to sit down, breathing hard and deep, he wasn't going to sit still however as he crawled to the side and looked down, for some reason, perhaps the inherent paranoia of his species he decided to look for signs of spiders scuttling towards them from below, making sure to look to the ceiling as well after his observation of the pit below them.

The Hunt For Diana

As Nadira followed close but behind the group she shuddered, dark and underground were not exactly her two favourite combinations. But then, being underground what more could she expect other than darkness.

When the group came to the tunnels she listened to both the dwarf and Mathew had to say. “I am inclined to go with the lesser known tunnel, however knowing my luck, we would probably find ourselves facing something worse than dragons or whoever created the trap. If we do not take that one, I’d go with the dragons.. at least we know what we are facing I guess, I'm not much help I know.. I don't do well in these situations”

Nadira shrugged her shoulders and looked around, seeing if there were any clue to help them decide which path they should be taking.. Diana could have created the new tunnel herself.. or perhaps the trap. They had been told she wished to test them after all. <Oh brother, I do hope you are faring better than I>

After a few minutes of silence she sighed. “Well? Anyone have anything useful to add?”

Carnival of Chaos
Cristoff Whitemarch

---

It took a while before Cristoff’s heart had stopped thumping and he realized that the illusion had disappeared. He cringed as he realized he was standing in a pile of horse droppings, in a stable of some sort, but the reek of manure did not stop him breathing a sigh of relief.

He paused a moment to get his bearings, before stepping out of the stable. He looked around, and his heart sank as he saw the column of smoke and flashes of orange from the north of the town – where Tristan’s challenge was situated. His first instinct was to run all the way there, and try to find his brother, and hope against hope that he was, by some miracle, alive.

The feeling only lasted a moment though. Somehow, instead of a devastating anxiety or crippling grief, his mind was filled with… silence. Perhaps he had gone into shock? He vaguely remembered feeling a similar sensation on hearing of the death of his second brother, Devan. His mind seemed to not care, for the time being, about Tristan’s fate – it was sealed, after all; the illusionist would not leave such a thing to chance. No; this was the time to act. There would be plenty of time to mourn later.

With a heightened sense of awareness, he looked around at the west and east, where the others’ missions were. Hanus seemed to have cleared his with some time remaining, but he watched fearfully as the illusion in Aneura’s quarter of the town refused to disappear, even as the clock ticked down. He held his breath as the final seconds ticked away, certain their party was about to be reduced to two, before the illusions vanished at exactly the last moment. As the illusion faded away in the distance, he realized it was now safe to collaborate with the others once more, and sent up a green signal flare with his magic to let them know he was not worse for the wear in any way.

He tried to decide what to do next. He was now free to meet up with the others, without the fear that the mage would interpret it as an attempt to collaborate in clearing the challenges. He was already on his way back towards the inn, when a man peeked out from a second floor window, before drawing his head back in. Suddenly, it hit Cristoff that there must have been a good number of people in Tristan’s quarter of the town, and that not all of them were necessarily dead.

Alarmed that he had not thought of this sooner, he rushed in the direction of the smoke and flames, sending up two red signal flares in succession that flew in an arc from his current position towards the north of the town, hoping his allies understood that he was headed that way, and praying they would come with him.

Here Cometh the Wolves
Laenaia listened to Bastian and Shria as they told her what they know about the doctor. They didn't have prior contact with him and all they knew were from his reputation and rumors, Although not as informative as she hoped, it was enough for her to at least assume the doctor took his job seriously and someone that Rexel deemed trustworthy enough to keep a secret. She said her gratitude to the two officers, noting that both of them looked more relaxed in the blazing street compared to when they were inside and that they were taking a roundabout path to avoid crowded areas. When she asked about it, they answered that they were avoiding trouble spots and some of the smaller factions in the city. Laenaia nodded to it, taking an indirect route would take less time to get to their destination than going straight and running into whatever trouble the local could cook in their head. At the very least, they got what the wished as they finished their grueling walk with no issue started.

She covered her nose and mouth with a hand as she saw the woman and child lying on the bed and the smell of disease invaded her senses. She glanced at Shria and Bastian, still no James in her sight, when they expressed their distaste over the child. She frowned quizzically at them when Bastian decided to sit on the ground and refused to go inside. Shria hesitated before walking into the clinic while muttering what Laenaia think as the reason for their animosity. Giving one last look around to find James and failing to, Laenaia looked at Bastian before going in after Shria.

"If you spot James, would kindly tell him to get inside?" she told him as she walked.

Joining Shria inside, Laenaia looked around the room before Shria drew Laenaia's attention and asked. “The good doctor, he might be in the back room. Usually he is otherwise tending his patients or resting in here...He may have been brought a new victim. Should we wait or go check?” she appeared uncertain, her discomfort over being in charge showing. Laenaia stared at the Lizardfolk before smiling at her, "Oh no, let's not bother the good doctor if he's in the middle of a work, that would be rude. We should wait here until he is done with it." Finished with her line, the vampire moved towards the more shaded side of the coach and sat down.

"Oh, if you don't mind me asking, can you tell me why the animosity against the gnomes?" she asked Shria.

Traxilus - Amazonia Imperiia

Exiting the tent Traxilus found it necessary to clear his mind of what he had endured. He rubbed his neck to try and alleviate the sweaty feeling the collar had inflicted upon it, and he continued to straighten his hair from there. He hoped he didn't look too disheveled after his encounter with the Amazon, but how could he tell. As he approached Kraith and those he stood by he cleared his throat silently and knocked Kraith open handedly on the back of his head. "I certainly hope you got what you wanted. Next time a bit of communication might help." He stretched his back as he listened to those around him speak.

After leaving the tent he had noticed Richelieu and the Princess doing the same. His interest had been piqued seeing the two leave together. Had they just finished what he had? Were Amazons all so lustful as that? He shuddered for a moment, but saw Richelieu making his way back towards the queen. Perhaps he had learned something from inside the tent, whatever reason they had for being in there it was most likely prudent for them to know. He recognized the new comer as Ethyssa from readijg various Blade documents concerning the mission they were on, and the two women she was with could only be Amazonians.

Of course with the Amazonians that Ethyssa had brought along it made Traxilus hesitant to speak openly about their plans. "Well, in my opinion we might want to check in with the queen, and see how the negotiations are fairing. Unless of course any of you have a better idea?"

Amazon Imperiia

"We're all happy for you and your prowess, Kraith."

Shortly after the Amazon Princess and Richelieu emerged from the far opposite tents, with Richelieu following the princess closely, but the princess only stopped and looked in their direction with her curious but piercing eyes.

Traxilus then joined the small group, his hair looking matted and a red ring formed around his neck, looking as if he had been choked or thrown about. Unfortunately Ethyssa herself had not garnered any useful information save what she learned about the Amazon culture. Traxilus then mentioned they reconvene with the queen, to which Ethyssa agreed.

"Where did the mark come from?" Ethyssa asked as she rubbed her thumb across the man's neck, noticing his skin was clammy from dried sweat, "You look like shit."

"Besides, I had enough of Florence the first time I met him... I could really use an excuse to get out and about." -Alexandria Sumera Nabecaesar, Page 1.

---

Amazonia Imperiia

Mira and Elyssa both looked at the goblin, each with their own reaction. Mira with a cocked eyebrow and Elyssa with a slight blush of embarrassment. "... Uh huh..." Mira mumbles as she looks to her sister and pats her back. "Don't worry, the scary little goblin man is still tiny. The rest of his kind's corpses told me more than enough on that." She grins mischievously and without remorse at Kraith.

As Traxilus left the tent, Elyssa smiled a little, though the sight of the princess leaving her tent caused her to seemingly recoil a little. "I still don't like her." She admits in a whisper to the group as Mira glares at her with a look of disapproval... Mira then looks at Traxilus' neck, and then at the satisfied look the queen's tent guard had, and she licks her lips. "Rrrr..." She rolls her tongue in a provocative manner. "...Someone had a little... Break..." She tries to word it in a way that wouldn't displease the foreigners, and yet, that suggestive smirk remained as she glanced over Ethyssa. Elyssa, then, had a turn at glaring at Mira with disapproval.

It was at this point that the princess finally decided to approach the group. The sultry sway in her steps particularly caught Mira's interest, who stared like a hungry wolf. The princess, however, had little interest in Mira, and instead took a much greater interest in the party. "Ah... The rest of the Queen's Guard. I sent your friend off to get us your queen away from that demon... I'm going to show you where my mother's soul is being kept." Elyssa opens her eyes widely at the news and stares in shock. "You know, and you do not send me and other Shamans to free her?!" She exclaims in surprise and, surprisingly, anger. The princess looks back at her with apprehension and even a hint of regret. "I didn't... Have a choice. If I sent half an army of Amazons to go free it, the Queen would be informed and she would have us all killed, one way or another... The demons are everywhere here, you should know that. Now quiet your tongue, the jungle watches, feeble-blood!" Mira growls defensively, but Elyssa shakes her head at Mira and the growling stops. "Fair enough..."

The princess then looks at the rest of the group. "If you have any questions, ask me now. I kept this area deserted intentionally to try and leave us as much free space to talk." The queen's tent guard looks at the princess and nods with loyalty. It seems her loyalties were clear enough. "Ironically, the bumbling idiocy if your large, oafish friend and his aristocratic compatriot earlier made for a wondrous distraction so we could have this conversation... But hurry. It will not take long for your Queen to join us."

Here Cometh The Wolves- Jellial, the Wind

---

Jellial could hardly ignore the unrecognised figure of the small creature called ‘Pinkie.’ Jellial would have to be blind to not noticed the piercing glares the rat-man gave him: so laced with contempt and hatred and…jealousy? He tried very hard to hide the smirk at the realisation for the rat-beast’s dislike towards him. Maylene was not without her fans, it seemed.

The circling round was not an uncommon tactic for dealing with tails and followers, and Jellial was a little surprised in himself for not noticing it or even expecting it. Pinkie’s act of scurrying off was more than a little disconcerting, but then again, so was his return. The stench was not one that Jellial enjoyed, and the sudden gust of wind that ever-so conveniently blew the smell of rot and sewer away from the group was a blessed welcome. When Maylene inevitably turned on him to react to the sudden use of magic, Jellial would give off only his most innocent of smiles.

They eventually reached the beginnings of a new entrance to the pack’s den. Jellial was unsure of this new sewer-entrance, as his sense of smell caused an almost painful overwhelming of the nose. A vicious assault of rancid scents was enough to put Jellial off the thought of anything so romantic as time alone with Maylene.

Jellial started to work on a new bit of magic, calling again, on the wind school he was named after. At the top of the tunnel’s entrance, the spell seemed to fill the air with a small bubble of wind that expanded into a sphere: Ten foot cubed and filled with the frequent scent of fresh, crisp, Tulerian air. ”You’ll have to forgive me, Pustin, I’m afraid my nose wouldn’t be able to deal with a sewer.” Jellial’s face broke into a smirk as he heard the muted mutterings of the rat-man. No doubt insults hurled at the man almost as offensive as Pinkie’s scent. The group were led into the sewer, and from the curling of Esyllt’s nose, he was glad for the bubble of wind. No doubt, she would move closer to Jellial, in a hope to escape the scent…what a shame.

Filling the silence, Jellial let forth loose tendrils of telepathy that touched the borders of Maylene’s mind. He was gentle in his work, making sure not to be confused for Esyllt. ”I missed you, Maylene. It has been too long, and our time together is far too short and far too…crowded.”

A small smile flickers over her lips as her eyes seek out the figure of Jellial in the dark. "I've missed your company too, Jellial... It's been some time... But, I even if there were more time and less around, I think there is far too much going on right now to indulge in the moment." her eyes move back ahead just in time to notice a low-passage. She ducks down hand outstretched to touch the wall as guidance. "It is truly a shame, though..."

The silence returned for a moment longer, Esyllt broke the silence by asking Maylene a very interesting question. It was in regards to telepathy: Jellial quickly figured out that the more civilised woman amongst the beautiful pair had attempted to probe the wilder rose for information, and had promptly been rejected. Jellial cleared his throat. “I can answer that one.”

Clapping his hands together, Jellial felt the joy of storytelling flow into his veins. The decisions of what details to include, to exclude, to expand upon and keep brief: such were the story-teller’s right, and such were their delight. “Maylene has a great deal of knowledge and a great many dealings with telepaths from yours truly. The two of us, Maylene and I, are closer than simple friends. In fact, Maylene is the one who turned me.” He gave Maylene a knowing smile, eluding to the ever-embarrassing details of just how he was turned that he would keep secret, for now. “We spent a great deal of time together, and after enough exposure: anyone can develop an ability to resist telepathy.”

His face crinkled at the rat-man’s comment about lost souls and the feasting damned. His revulsion towards the rat man had another question burn at his mind, and again, he reached for Maylene’s mind: as gently as before. ”What hole did the pack drag this one out of? You say he’s been with the pack for years, yet no one seemed to mention it out loud before, especially near me.”

Maylene hesitates for a moment, her own gaze following the ratman and her lip curling back in revulsion. [i]"Not all of my contacts were made known to you... And he is of the... it is certainly fitting his beast form is that of a rat, should I say. Most only dealt with him and his ilk when there was no other means. Desperate times call for desperate measures, though. And when that happens, even the scum have a role to play... But he is not entirely bad. He can be sweet... Sometimes. And you get used to the smell... Sort of."

Jellial smirks at Maylene’s comments. At least she felt as sourly of him as he did. His trepidation was not unfounded. ”You are known to bring out the sweetness in men, Maylene. It’s one of your many talents.” His tone was teasing, playful even.

Her expression becomes disgusted at the idea of the ratman being sweet on her, or even considered amongst the ranks of men at all. But after a moment, she manages to smooth her expression. It was just in time as Pustin turns back and flashes her a fanged smile, and Jellial a glare full of distrust and a promise of violence were he to try anything.

With nothing more to say, Jellial resigned himself to following the rat-man. He was content enough, surrounded by the bubble of clean air and taking un-subtle glances at the backside of Maylene. He had to follow her lead, after all; might as well enjoy at least one part of the setting.

Royal Blood - Ceann and Rayvon

---

Rayvon looks at the building with awe, sudden realization of where they were in the capital of Liveria... She had heard tales of this place and woman. And as the gargoyle, rivaling a great bear in size, sailed through the air, it seemed they must be true! A small, meek squeak leaves the aasimar as she backpedals from the crashsite. “By the divine! SHE is your mentor?!” she gasps, looking at Penelope with a start.

Ceann blinked, noting that the princess had seemed to shield herself from some kind of danger, seeing the shattered remains of the stone statue she looked up at the building and swallowed nervously. "Uhm... was that a accident or should we perhaps return later?" She then looked a bit worried at Rayvon. "Why do I not like the way you said 'she'." She looked from Penelope, to Rayvon and then at Mikan before asking the general question on her mind. "Could somebody fill me in who 'she' is I wandered almost everywhere but never went to the capital here, just the outlying areas." She asked, looking worried at the window where the gargoyle had been thrown from, wondering if more would follow.

Rayvon laughs nervously and shifts a little closer to Ceann, eyes alert to anymore falling satellites from the heavens above. “She, the dragon-lady wizard. The fearsome woman who resides alone making life of stone.” She looks with wide-eyes, pointing at the gargoyle, “They say she's stronger than an ox, and stands 10 feet tall! Her father was a dragon himself and in childbirth, she murdered her mother.” She shudders and raises her hands, “Her hands end in deadly daggers, her arms are rife with scales and are thicker round than a monstrous python. Her tail is said capable of choking a man in seconds... And the only thing said to match the colour of her hair... is the flames ever pouring from her lips.” She swallows and looks at Ceann. “Though, that is... all hearsay... I was always unsure what to make of it, given how my countrymen have proven themselves quite capable in distorting my own legacy... And yet...”

She shivered at the description and looked nervously at the building before takign a deep breath. "Well... that is hopefully exaggerated for the most part, right?" She asked hopefully, turning to look at Penelope for confirmation on that. "Should we perhaps come back later to your mentor and knock on the door... and hope she doesn't use some of those flames pouring from her lips when... if she answers?"

Penelope is about to respond until a loud voice booms through the air from above. "Penny!" It was the dragon woman's voice. "Ahh, it has been so long! Come inside!"

Mikan giggles and shrugs, having little reaction to the falling gargoyle. "She's not bad... Really! Just passionate."

"I see... well in that case, shall we make our introduction?" She asked nervously.

Rayvon hesitates for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “Yes... A little late to turn back now...” With that, she starts taking the most shaken steps of her life towards the stone building. All the while, she tries to steel herself for what may be beyond those doors.

"Hiya! Name's Mikan, meee-kan, me-kan, got it? Okay! We're the blades sent to help your king! Courtesy of our queens." -Mikan, Page 1.

Royal Blood

---

Rayne Walker quickly left with Auric.Jason Drake stayed behind for a moment, making some comment about how he wanted to look around for a while longer. After all, they had a clear objective: The ex-ranger in the Rat Skull Charmé. They traveled back down the large set of steps they previously came from, and within minutes, found the poison shop. It was a humble looking bungalow, with a simple wooden door that had a rat's skull painted on it in green.

Within it were several rows of shelves of variously shaped daggers, crossbows, bolts, and even a few import bows from other lands. Variously coloured liquids lined the walls, some bubbling, some fizzing, some being eerily still. Some were partially transparent, even, but those tended to have a higher price--all outside of their pay range, of course. For a humble looking shop it had quite a vast array of tools. Behind the shop's counter stood a middle aged man, with a few hints of gray in his otherwise sterling black hair. There were many scars on his arms and three prominent ones on his face: This man had seen many conflicts in his time, and yet, his faded brown eyes gave the impression of a man that welcomed new customers.

He wore simple commoner's clothes, though on his left hand he had a ring with a very expensive ruby gemstone on it, and he still wore the tattered green cloak of the King's Rangers around his waist. Upon closer inspection, his heritage became immediately clear with the thick villager accent: This man had been born and raised Renaltan pure, central lands, closest to the once forgotten capital. "Name's Vesal. How can I help you? If it has something to do with the royal murder, please, fuck off in advance, I didn't sell the assassin anything."

---

As Rayvon's hand touched the door it opened with utterly no effort, likely assisted by magic. Within was the first floor of the multi-level location, built in an almost labyrinthine way with several rooms and halls and other such places. From the outside it was plain that despite how large the place was, there was no way it could physically contain the several hundred meters of corridors they could see, and that was, of course, only what they could see, there was likely more beyond that. Mikan's breath is caught in her throat as she stumbles forward for a moment, grasping her head. "Ohh..." She says softly as a hand grasps her shoulder softly... It felt familiar. Mikan looks up and spots something that immediately causes her to become extremely confused. "A...Manda?..."

As it turned out, there was more than just "dragon lady", AKA, Venidrus, within the building. The building that seemingly stretched on for eternity. No, no, no no no... This was a Mage's Guild establishment. One of many that dotted the land, collecting artifacts, and a hub to boot. It physically connected to all the local outposts in Liveria, without actually, physically, connecting to them, using a series of magical, ethereal pathways that likely laid just beyond the corridors. Amanda, now in her middle age with signs of wrinkles starting to appear around her eyes, managed a small smile at the sight of Mikan. "Yes. It's me... Though..." She motions with her hand, showing a crisp image in the air of Rayne Walker. "...He needs a woman's intuition with him... Before he makes a mistake in Fate's Web... You wouldn't mind, doing an old woman a favour?" Amanda asks, the small smile remaining ever persistent along with a warm glow behind her purple eyes. Mikan sighed and nodded, looking at Ceann and Rayvon. "Ohhh welll... Catch'ya later, gotta do granny a favour." She says with a wink and a giggle before leaving the way she came and moving at a quick pace to reinforce Rayne Walker.

It was at this point that, amidst floating book cases and a couple of apprentices, Venidrus descended with levitation from a higher floor. Her scaled arms were wreathed in flames as she did, a sign of her magical power, and yet, her decorative red dress remained undamaged. The dress revealed her surprisingly feminine curves, and one glance showed a complete lack of a tail. Yet her hands did show hints of the scales that ran up her arms to her shoulders, and at 6'5", she was abnormally tall, for a woman... A human woman, anyway. As was described, her hair, long and red, was as fiery in colour as it had been described, short of actually being on fire. Her high heels clicked as they touched the ground, and her eyes fluttered open, red irises greeted the party, as did a sharp toothed grin at the sight of Penelope. "Ahh, Penny! Welcome back, have you finally decided to try on a dress I found for you?" She stated with a motherly tone. A quick look around the room after Venidrus' distraction would show that Amanda had already left as soon as she had appeared. In all likelihood, she had been there just to speak to Mikan, and then leave. How she knew Mikan was coming right at that moment was anyone's guess. Penelope quickly shook her head. "T-Too revealing..." She says with a blush as Venidrus laughs. "One day you will see the point of it." She looks at Ceann and Rayvon, and does a quick bow of her head. "Welcome, my guests, welcome! This is my home, make yourselves comfortable! Just don't bother the apprentices, they have much to learn about golems. And that they shouldn't make one out of a bear." A few shredded papers and books, and what looks to be the remains of a once beautiful dress, float through the air near the apprentices. "...Because bears do really bad things to things I like..."

Carnival of Chaos - Aneura Shivan

She didn't have much, but what she did would have to suffice; Aneura ripped a portion of the cloth hanging at her hips from underneath the plate armor, shaping it as best she could into a rectangular strip. Encircling her leg with it, she tightly bound the wound with what little depth the cloth had to it. It stopped a significant amount of the bleeding, but she knew that, eventually, it would seep beyond the bandage and she'd need true medical attention. Aneura lifted herself up from the prone position and into a weakened stance. Her gait was stumbling, but she managed to move nevertheless.

Shield and spear in hand, she proceeded forward, looking for some sort of exit. It seemed as though the guillotines had since disappeared, or rather were no longer a factor in her location, and so she moved on with a tad slighter haste than when she was weaving around swinging blades. The storage room must have an exit, she thought, and so she staggered about in a single direction, following her gut instincts as to which way was most likely to get her out. Most buildings, she thought, followed at least somewhat f a common design pattern, unless one was purposefully designing an establishment with confusion and labyrinthine ideas in mind. At the time, it seemed as though she was no longer partaking in an illusory gauntlet, and so she held little worry that logic would fail her here.

Aneura had little knowledge of the time that had passed, and so with gritted teeth and a steely resolve, she picked up the pace despite the pain she received at every step. The children were counting on her, and she wasn't dead just yet.