Dasmira had just been sipping away at her ale and munching on a loaf of bread when the smell drifted into her nostrils. Her back straightened and her mind whirred – a fire! The first thought that crossed her mind was her loot and she darted halfway across the room, towards the stairs, before a stampede of people poured down them. Elbows and knees collided with stomachs and guts; it was chaos and Dasmira was trying to catch her breath desperately, anxiety infesting her heart like a parasite. Her precious gold, her beautiful gold! The blonde backed against the wall, putting room between herself and everyone else. It was when everything was calmed that it was announced that only a room had caught ablaze – it was not her room. Dasmira Oratonis sighed in relief.

Shouldering her bags, Dasmira debated if she should leave for Valuun Keep now or wait it out. Many had been talking that morning of adventurers planning to venture to Valuun Keep. The thief couldn’t decide if this was good or not; this would mean sharing gold with others, but they could be a shield for the dangers that lurked in the dark. So, when someone mentioned death to all that goes alone, Dasmira was quick to gravitate towards the center of the attention. She listened with rapt attention and was about to offer her assistance when he left without a word. However, when one door closes, another opens. A half-elf spoke up, agreeing with the mysterious man and she took a hesitant step towards him, the familiar mask slipping across her face.

“I am…also leaving for the Keep.” She brought about hesitantly. “My strongest value is the mind, however, and not the body. I’m afraid I-I might die if I go alone. If you, or anyone, were willing to protect me, I’d offer my services in any way possible.”

A timid, hopeful smile flickered across Dasmira’s face as she prayed that they’d fall into her trap, but she had no reason to worry. They always ended up twined her thread.

Fresh rays of warm light streamed through the dusty windowsill onto Leon's face. His eyes slowly flickered open. The previous night had helped raise his dwindling morale. He met some new faces that would help his excursion into the keep and more importantly woke up with a full belly. He rose from the bed, mentally preparing himself for the journey. He knew that many died but he hardly cared- maybe he thought he wouldn't die, or maybe he just didn't care whether he lived or died. He placed his sword on his hip and threw the dark green cloak over himself. He opened the door into the hallway.

He caught the distinct smell of something burning. He caught the inn-keeper and several workers frenetically working to extinguish the small blaze. Leon was about to step into help, but he figured he couldn't do much to help, considering that there were already several men working to douse the flames. It appeared they would have it under control. He headed down the stairs. There was a bit of a fuss regarding the fire, but besides that things were fine. Leon took a seat. For now he was contenting with waiting for those he met the night before. Soon after a man emerged from the stairwell- Leon assumed the fire had been taken care of, since he didn't seem panicked. The man walked into the center of the common room, and made a small speech. Leon was surprised- he wasn't sure what would have prompted the man to speak before the entire room. Leon was certain the man knew more then he let in, but before Leon could stop him he was already out the door. Another man spoke up, an elf. He stated that he was going to the keep. Leon stood up, "A few of the folks here and me already made plans to go to the keep. I am sure they wouldn't mind if I asked you to come along, any help is appreciated." Leon looked around for the people he met last night, hoping they would be ready to go.

Athinar, turning to see the man with the large sword address them, froze as he glimpsed the hilt, with the red gem inset. Vehemently shaking his head at the man's offers, Athinar came up behind those in the inn, saying, "Those who do accept this man's help shall receive none from me." Slashing his hand through the air, Athinar accidentally let sparks fly, but not so much as to light a fire. "I don't know what it is about him, but something is wrong." Unclasping the bag's top, Athinar pushed past the treasure he had looted from Dasmira's room, and scraping the bottom, found a small stone , with a small rune on it. Handing it to Leon, he closed the other man's hand around it. In a low whisper, Athinar said, "I trust your judgement. You seem like a solid enough man. Go with the others, and if anything happens, smash this stone. It'll launch a pillar of fire into the air, and let me know exactly where you are. I'll arrive as soon as I can at your position. I don't want any adventurers dying in the keep. Especially now that something's happening there."

Pulling out a large goblet, inset with rubies, Athinar handed it to the bartender, saying, "Sorry for the fire. This should cover the damages." Pulling out a small locket, he continued, "I think your grandfather would've wanted you to have this." Leaving the inn, he said, "Now if anyone wishes to follow me to the keep, then they may. However, this will not be an adventure for profit, glory, or other selfish ambitions. This is for the good of all." Trudging through the mud a few meters, he waved his hands, and a horse made of fire appeared from thin air. Leaping up on it's back, he rode off towards the keep, a trail of fire in his wake. Catching up to Joric, the mage narrowed his eyes. Shouting over the clamor of hooves, Athinar narrowed his eyes at the swordsman. "I'm watching you, sir!" Taking off towards the keep, Athinar sped ahead on his flaming mount. Reaching the dark gate, Athinar dissipated his mount, and hitting the ground, encased his hand in fire. Holding it to the gate, he watched with a grim satisfaction as the iron melted, dripping onto the ground, and with a hiss, hardening. Stepping inside, Athinar held his hand up, and entered the keep, heading inside the gatehouse.

Ireth's night was uneventful. She could hardly sleep, excited at the idea of heading into the Keep. She was confident in her chance, now that she knew that other people were interested in traveling there as well. Ireth could manage to share the glory...what she was really worried about was whether she could succeed in staying alive. Despite digging around for information earlier, the Keep remained shrouded in mystery.

During breakfast, Ireth watched curiously as a man made his way to the center of the room and began to speak. She listened intently as he spoke of what truly lies within the Keep and his warning of not going in alone. If there truly was something dark and powerful in that fortress...she can't take the chance of going in by herself. She wouldn't last a day.

Luckily, other people were suggesting on heading towards the Keep together. Ireth stepped towards the group, making eye contact with the human she spoke with last night. "It would be wise to band together, I agree... There's strength in numbers."

For the first time Arkadi noticed another Varan. He wasn't too sure how he missed the other gigantic northerner, but he did and this other Varan delivered a dark message. The message spoke of the Keep and confirmed the fears of Arkadi, the fears of the dark and ominous evil that was waiting the group. The feelings inside of the Varan were quite conflicting, they spoke of fears of supernatural demons and evil beasts. However the contrasting thoughts told him to protect the group, it could lead to glory from the very gods themselves and perhaps he could make up for the tragedy that befell him at the Battle of the Southern Plains. In the end the thoughts of glory and the probability of making amends won over. Perhaps, thought Arkadi, I could learn more about Joric. It has been awhile since I've seen a Varan that wasn't haunting his dreams. The slightly morbid thought made Arkadi chuckle a little and he smiled a big smile. After the sneaky looking girl spoke up he took in a deep breath.

In spite of the confirmation of evil the day was beautiful, perhaps it was the brightest light before dusk, but Arkadi wouldn't let that affect him. The Varan walked back inside and took a sniff of the smokey air, all he thought was odd before he paid for half a loaf of bread. On the way out the Arkadi almost forgot his cloak, Am I getting old? he wondered. After almost forgetting his cloak he decided to pack it into his knapsack, afterward he slung his shield on his back and grabbed his large axe and began a jog at a decent pace. During his jog he began to softly sing an old sailing tune, it was lively and it matched the attitude of the day. It also kept his mind off of what he had lost and the future he was holding, namely demons and his wife.

As Joric and his horse began to disappear along the horizon and another rider began to come from behind he took as small rest under a tree. Under the large shade the tree provided he took a sip of water and muttered to himself about the humid air. After his brief rest was finished Arkadi began his jog to Valuun's Keep.

With Castan's last letter clutched to her chest, Aveline lay asleep in her room. She dreamed of the days when she ran with her brothers through the streets of Helmfirth, chasing a thief or a runaway cart. Castan pressed himself against a wall and she leapt onto a rooftop with his help. Together with their elder brothers they retrieved the stolen jewels and apprehended the thief. In her dreams she made a vow, she prayed to whatever lurked beneath Valuun Keep; let my brother live.

She was awake and devouring a quick breakfast when the fire erupted, and stood to help put it out when a small group of workers took to it in quick time. She remained standing until the commotion evaporated and calm returned to the inn. Returning to her seat and her meal, Aveline watched the room begin to fill with the adventurers from the night before. The typical sorts, and the suspicious few – that girl in the coin skirt especially – and then the odd gifted fellow. Each had their skills, she was sure, but she still considered the possibility that each could keep her from finding her brother.

“Quiet... quiet everyone... I've something to say.”

Aveline leaned back in her chair, resting a forearm on the pommel of her sword, to listen to the large northerner. Everything he said more or less amounted to what she already heard. Dark forces, evil... if no one could tell her anything different, it must have some truth to it. The speech and the fire, which she took as a bad omen, diminished her usual cheer. She watched the man stride out of the inn and the group of people who accumulated in his wake to discuss his speech.

They all seemed to agree to needing each other's skills and protection. When a few declared their intentions – the old man vehemently disagreeing with the northerner – and left for the keep, she stood up. She picked her cloak off the back of her chair and strode to the group, “I too would like the company,” Aveline stated simply. “Shouldn't we get going?”

She looked each of them over, offering a cheerless smile to the group as a whole, then left the inn in favour of the stables. Bella awaited, a handful of hay between her teeth. Aveline saddled the horse and rode out to the front of the inn. There, she waited a short while for the rest of the party to finish their preparations, before starting for the keep.

As the stranger had expected, several of the adventurers who had made their way to the inn were already preparing to enter the keep. Among them were Serkan, Dasmira, Leon, Ireth, and Aveline. Arkadi himself had fearlessly taken off to the keep.

Joric progressed away from the inn on his trotting steed, towards the forests in the east. He took a glance at the keep and swallowed a lump of guilt in his throat. A rhythmic gallop began to fill Joric's ears and he quickly looked behind him. It was a man dressed in a dark gray and red robe, the one named 'Athinar'. The quick-approaching man startled Joric and so he reached up to the hilt of his sword and steered his horse around, ready to face whatever opposition would come. But the great mage did not attack, although there was great hostility in his words: "I'm watching you, sir!" The mage then pulled his horse northwards, heading off to the keep alone. Joric released his blade and reentered his calm state of mind. Actually, I'm watching you, he thought.

"Petulant old fool, you should have struck him down at such an insulting gesture."

That's pointless, thought Joric, Athinar seems to be a capable mage, and if so he could prove to be an asset to the mission. Besides, he's simply cautious, as any sane person would be. I admire his wisdom... and bravery.

Joric turned his horse back east and trotted off in the distance. It was still early in the morning and the adventurers would probably be heading off very soon. It would not take to long to reach Valuun Keep. The entrance to the keep faced south-west. The keep itself was perched atop the highest hill in the surrounding area, overlooking the rest of the rolling plains and forests.

The keep was very large. The tall, stone walls circled the interior of the setting in an irregular circle; positioned at various points of the wall were twenty spires, although eighteen only remained standing. Parts of the wall were cracking, but it still kept people from getting inside. The iron gate, now melted by Athinar, was thick and rusted with age. After passing through the gate one would arrive in a vast courtyard. There were doorways to enter the interior of the walls and the towers, as well as ladders to quickly reach the top of the walls. Built into the walls and connected to one another, surrounding the courtyard, were various stables, barracks, forges, armories, and sleeping quarters. It was a bleak setting, and the sky itself seemed to turn a dark gray when you stood within the ruin. On the opposite side of the courtyard was a massive castle with a huge, solid gate that not even the strongest metal-bender could manipulate. In the middle of the courtyard was a circle of blood-red markings, and hanging at the top of the castle was a massive crane holding a stack of stones. Bones littered the entire area, and fallen battlements and ancient weapons lay around them. All who would step inside would hear a whispering wind; the air was cold, and even the bravest man would tremble within the gloomy ruin.

When it seemed all were in agreement, Serkan turned his back towards the group, making for the door. He had been in such a rush to get to the keep he'd nearly forgotten to give even the most basic courtesy of his name. The half-elf looked over his shoulders back at the others, "By the way, my name is Serkan."

Serkan dipped his head down, placing his helmet over his head, encasing it in a cage of gray-stained leather and coated, treated steel. He locked the clasps on his collar shut, securing the helmet in place, "Now, shall we start?"

As they approached the keep, Serkan looked ahead down the road, one clearly less travelled since so few had dared to travel so close to the keep. Nature had started to reclaim the roadway, grass growing in the middle of the dirt path; as they grew closer to the keep the pathway continued to grow thinner and more overgrown. The outer walls of the keep were in a similar state; time and weathering was slowly crumbling the wall, though it still stood upright and looked as though it would stand for at least a few more lifetimes.

"Hmm, looks like someone was in a hurry to get inside," Serkan suddenly spoke once they got close, walking towards the front gate, or more appropriately, the lack thereof. The gate clearly had been melted by someone in order to gain access. He knelt over a misshapen, wrought iron lump on the ground, placing his hand near it, "Still warm, whoever did this did it only minutes ago."

Serkan placed his left hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, tilting the sheath forwards so he would be able to draw the blade when the time called for it, if the time called for it. Venturing into the courtyard, the first thing that struck him was utter silence. The area withing the walls looked much the same as outside of the keep, everything that had been left exposed to the elements had been worn down by countless years of rain, wind, and sunshine. Untouched for uncountable years, it looked like plant life was encroaching upon everything that it could, wild grasses and weeds sprouted everywhere they could, even growing up from between cracks in the cobbled pavement.

Still, there was something missing; no wildlife dared to enter the keep's courtyard. The darkening, gray sky above even lied empty, devoid of even the tiniest of birds. The only movement within the courtyard came from the gentle sway of grass when an errant breeze managed to flow through cracks in the wall. Serkan stepped through a knee-high brush of grass, only to feel something hard under the heel of his boot, pulling his foot back he could see the sun-bleached bones of a human body, once a warrior from the look of his rusted armor and antiquated weapons, relics of a time perhaps when the keep had a less ominous air about it.

Serkan looked quietly to the others he had followed to the keep, he remained quiet, hoping to hear any observations of the grim, quiet courtyard they might have had.

As Athinar entered the courtyard, he noticed the markings in the center, and hand ablaze, stepped over the bones and armor, ignoring the ruin. The old man had seen such battlegrounds and dungeons much darker than this. Still, he thought grimly, This is nothing to make light of. Carnage such as this can mean only one thing. A powerful evil must be at work here. Standing over the circle, he saw a scorched skeleton, holding a half-burned scroll in a twisted hand. Kneeling down and extinguishing his hand, he wrenched it out of his grasp, and dusting it off, saw the magical script on it. It read:
"A Liran naluch,
nial poch berlar glau sero,
A Siv od fo Glen,
poch a berlar feng hero,
Gau aeridfo con liran,
co naran fo pen Parog Con fiso,
fo Liran dennan ioriarath."
Eyes widening at this dark message, Athinar rolled up the scroll and stuffed it in his bag. Standing up and dusting off the man's ashes from the knees of his trousers, he looked around the courtyard and stared at the large gate. Gathering his clothing tight around him, he murmured, " Finno Ten ", and with an eruption of flame, Athinar, all of his possessions, and the air around him erupted into flame. Flying over the ground towards the gate, he slipped through the portcullis, leaving scorch marks on the bars that his flame form touched. Reaching the actual gate, he touched the metal and began the slow process of melting the doors into slag. By now, the group should have arrived in the courtyard behind him.

The landscape began to change slowly as Arkadi got closer and closer to the Keep. Life began to drain out of the area, the little things, like bird songs, began to disappear. The atmosphere began to quieten and a certain ambiance filled the air and the only things growing were harsh weeds and hardy trees. The landscape became grey and the words of the land spoke of death and evil. Such things unsettled the superstitious Varan, everything told him to leave, even the beard on his jaw. Never-the-less the giant kept jogging till he could see the foreboding massive keep which made even him feel small. Arkadi began to walk a few hundred meters away from the Keep when the other Varan dismounted from his massive horse and walked in through the gateway.

Damn horses. It's unnatural to ride a horse, I wonder how he even learned to ride. The last time I rode I was as stiff as rawhide. Arkadi laughed, which was a big booming sound and seemed foreign to the location. It must be the nerves getting to me. Thought Arkadi as he neared the large keep. The gateway where the other Varan walked through was actually a gate and it seemed to be melted through.

"Damned sorcerers! Messing with the spirits." He began to grumble on as he walked through the gate and saw the courtyard. The courtyard was filled with bones of the dead which overlaid crimson runes. Overhanging was a crane filled with giant stones, Arkadi made a mental not to avoid walking under it. Arkadi's perceptive also noticed the sorcerer in front of him, who heard his ignorant grumbles.

Dasmira seethed, her teeth grinding together sharply though she appeared perfectly normal otherwise. Her gold, her treasure, had been found and by such an old incapable man! The blonde gave him a glare that he just missed whilst walking out the door. Finally, her mind turned back to the task at hand; after all, she could get her revenge later.

It took a short amount of time to reach the Keep, and as the daunting structure grew nearer, chills swept up the thief’s spine. Life was absent in the form of walking organisms, but overgrown plants crawled across everything and her feet snagged on weeds every few seconds. She made small, light comments on their way to the Keep to her companions, hoping to warm them up to her. However, she had yet to even give so much as a name to them and hoped to keep it that way. Names brought trouble, typically, and even more so when it was her name being spoken. It only meant more would know of her once she screwed them over.

The elven-man hybrid, Serkan, surveyed their surroundings and reported his findings that Dasmira completely ignored. She was more interested in secretly raking her eyes up and down the skeletons in hopes of discovering something valuable. Every now and then, she would quickly snatch something shiny from a pocket, but no one saw her and she inwardly smirked at her sheer awesomeness. Though she could feel too smug and did not want anyone to pick up on the confident vibes, so she made a small pathetic whimper.
“I’m afraid to admit that I’m scared.” She whispered thickly, pretending as if she was speaking to herself though she made sure at least one other would hear the small comment.

Aveline slowed as she approached the melted gate, muttering a disapproving few words about the mage, and passed through into the courtyard at a trot. She found herself wondering if her brother had stood in the exact spot she did, and where had he turned to enter the keep? The entrances were vast and varied, reminiscent of a puzzle. She likened to courtyard to a life-sized board for a game of stones. Casting her eyes about the courtyard, it seemed the stones of this board retired long ago. Nothing but their bones and weapons remained of their play.

She watched the mage in flames at the second gate with a single raised eyebrow and dismounted, tying Bella by her reins to the nearest post in the stables. In the vastness of her travels she had met more than the odd mage – none with Athinar's power, but noteworthy nonetheless – and for the first time she did not appreciate it. For a brief moment she felt guilty leaving the horse and considered setting her free, should they not survive the keep. Instead she pressed her forehead to the horse's long face and stroked her mane; a silent apology and a promise to return. Then, adjusting the sword on her hip, she strode to the other arrivals.

"I don't plan on waiting for the mage to destroy another gate. There are other entrances," she told them, gesturing to the doors and ladders. The mage could be helpful, she would admit that, but if her wholly ungifted brother could go missing in such a lifeless, soul-damning place as this keep, a mage acting as Athinar was could provoke any number of evils. Aveline did not wish to go missing as well, nor wished that upon her companions. She let her eyes sweep over them, glanced at the mage once more, then walked to the nearest door to see if it would open.

As the flame elemental form of Athinar approached the gate and attempted to singe it, he found that he could not. The outer surface seemed to deform by his fire magic, but beyond that the door remained impervious to his attempts to open it. This door was strange, as his magic ought to have burnt directly into the steel. Perhaps the steel door was protected by some sort of magical barrier? Whatever the case, it didn't seem Athinar could budge the door.

Behind Athinar were several others. The Varan Arkadi had arrived second, while Serkan, Dasmira, and Aveline had arrived not long after. They examined the courtyard and explored its surroundings. A hard gust of wind blew, causing the rocks in the crane above to swing slightly. A well-placed shot could send the rocks tumbling down into the middle of the courtyard's blood-circle.

As the young woman Dasmira passed off and scanned the dead bodies she would scoop up what little bit of valuables they had. She acted as if she did nothing and no one had noticed her doing it. As she reached down to fumble around in a small bag she pulled out an old coin from ages past. She walked off and, once again, acted as if she didn't do anything.

Behind her, however, the bones began to shake back and forth. They began shaking so much that for a few seconds one could hear their vibrations. The bones began to move around,turning and re-aligning themselves before levitating in the air and forming some sort of undead human. All around the courtyard dozens of undead warriors began to form, weapons at the ready and intent on subduing these invaders.

"RAAGGHHH!" yelled one of the undead as it charged towards Arkadi, sword high up in the air.

______________________________________________________

"They have arrived."

Serkan only momentarily looked at the bones of the fallen warrior that had lied in the grass at his feet. He sighed and stepped around the grass, though for a while he kept a more careful watch on where he let his foot land. He saw Dasmira had begun to wander around, almost like she was looking for something lost in the high grass. He admitted her behavior was odd, but he wasn't wary of her and failed to notice Dasmira pocketing something every so often. Instead, he was looking ahead at Aveline, whose attention had fallen on the now-burning mage that had melted his way into the keep.

Serkan trudged through the grass towards her, leaning on a nearby pile of rocks. Aveline made a passing comment about how she didn't plan on waiting for the mage to try melting through the door. When she left, though, Serkan looked for a while longer at the Athinar; an odd thought crept into his head, the door the mage was attempting to melt did not seem to be giving, either the door was ridiculously thick, or something else was keeping it from being breached. Still, it didn't feel right to leave the mage or Arkadi there alone; Serkan called back to Aveline, "Right, you go on ahead. I'll see if I can't get those two to give up on that door and come with us."

Serkan had still not been paying any attention to Dasmira up until this point, at least, that was until he heard her suddenly whimper, expressing fear. At first, Serkan felt the urge to tell Dasmira off, to tell her if she wan't up to the task she should return to the keep. However, he looked down to the plain, cord wrap of his sword's handle, of the memento left to him by his former master. After a moment of thought about what his master would have said, he sighed, before looking to Dasmira, "If you're scared, then stay close to us. You may not know it, but we need your help as much as you need ours, okay?"

The half-elf lifted his helmet to reveal his face. He had realized that neither Dasmira nor himself had ever said their names during that long, mostly-quiet trek up towards the keep. He finally spoke, "By the way, I don't think I ever gave my name. I'm Serkan."

There was little chance for Dasmira to give any sort of response, as Serkan's long, pointed ears twitched at the sound of a hollow rattle. In the dead quiet of the courtyard, even the smallest of noises seemed to echo off the cracked, weathered walls of the keep. He hurriedly pulled his helmet back down, the latches clicking shut when he stepped back to witness an unearthly sight. Bones and pieces of armor started to float upwards, gathering to assemble into the figure of an undead knight. The racket of bones clanking against metal sounded all around them, as more of the creatures sprang to life.

Serkan turned to put his back towards Dasmira, dropping his bag of belongings and grasping the handle of his sword. The sword let out a metallic ringing as it was drawn from the sheath, the razor edge gleaming in the low, gray light that filtered through the gloomy cloudcover above. The nearest creature let out a low gurgling, clacking noise as its bony jaw trembled, hollow, dusty eye sockets fixed squarely upon Serkan. It was draped in plate armor that had become so rusted that in certain places the armor had completely corroded through, and clutched in its hands were a short, one-handed sword with a heavily chipped blade and a rounded shield with numerous dents marring its surface.

The creatures all seemed to be waiting, watching them for an opening, for the right opportunity to attack. That was when one of them let out a horrendous war-cry, a terrible, low growl of a roar that no human creature could ever make. The first monster to sound out a cry of war charged at Arkadi, but that was only the beginning. One of the other undead nearest Serkan also let loose an unworldly bellowing, a foul, screeching roar as it lunged forwards. Serkan quickly parried the sword blow to the side and shoved the monster with his shoulder to force it to step back. He shouted across the courtyard in an attempt to warn Arkadi of the incoming undead that had fixated upon him, "Hey! You there! Watch yourself!"

Athinar, at the sudden rush of necromancy, whipped around and flew through the bars. Growling, a thin jet of fire escaped his mouth. Looking at Dasmira, he thought, You idiot! Don't you know not to touch anything here? Arcing up through the air to the group, he left a bright trail of fire that burned for a few seconds afterward. Enveloping a group of skeletons in a wave of fire, he turned to Dasmira and spoke, his mouth not moving. " You should know better than to take something from the fallen warriors. Those who are dead this way, generally don't stay dead. Idiot." Hovering just above the ground for a few minutes, he used the last few seconds of elementalism to make a wall of flame that encircled the whole party. Reverting back to his original form, he looked at Serkan, Dasmira, and Aveline. "We need to talk. A serious talk about NOT being abr ach brunhvitr and touching everything in the whole damn castle." His anger made Athinar snap back and forth from his native language for a moment. Twin balls of fire were ignited in his eyes, and flames shot up from his hands.

The half-elf’s voice distracted her as he picked up on her display. The thief inwardly grinned and glanced at him with her big doe eyes as he spoke to her.

“If you’re scared, then stay close to us. You may not know it, but we need your help as much as you need ours, okay?” The pathetic attempt at consoling her had almost caused her to chuckle. Dasmira knew that it was likely she could very well be the downfall of this half-breed and if anything, they were helping her achieve her goal. After all, carrying around sacrifices if the need arised was always a personal favorite of Dasmira’s; she’s done it before. She’s used innocent warriors to protect her from those she has crossed and it has sometimes led to their deaths; if it did, she didn’t cry or even feel a slither of guilt. Business was business. The hybrid continued, “By the way, I don’t think I ever gave my name. I’m Serkan.”

Shit. Dasmira almost cursed under her breath; he certainly will be expecting her name now, a name she was not willing to give. Quick, a decoy name – Arimsad Sinotaro is pretty clever, if she doesn’t say so herself. However, before she could dwell more on the fake name, clattering smacked against her cochlea and caused her body to freeze up.
Bones trembled and rattled as bodies began to rebuild themselves into fierce soldiers with swords and shields. Fury emanated from them, pulsing so loudly it was almost tangible. Dull swords, scorched and broken, were held in skeletal hands whilst blurred and scratched shields were thrust against bosoms. Dasmira’s eyes were opened in horror; her tongue had become so dry, she felt she could swallow it. Nervous sweat adorned her forehead like liquid diamonds and sweaty palms slipped in the folds of her coin skirt. She had no time to retrieve her rope dart, but her arm deftly slid over her shoulder and to the handle of her trident.

“You should know better than to take something from the fallen warriors. Those who are dead this way, generally don’t stay dead. Idiot.” The old man – the one with her gold, no less – insulted and Dasmira scoffed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, crook. I didn’t take a stash from a poor innocent working woman’s room, now did I?” She lashed and tugged the trident from its slip; the pronged spear’s handle which was once short and bulky, extended three times its length and snapped into place.

The liar had done it just in time as an undead had approached her. His face was grotesque with half of his skull missing, including the eye, and unshed flesh clung to his arms like armor. His jaw was unhinged and hung in a silent, forever roar and once-missing ribs were still clacking back into place. Dasmira swung her trident and pierced the fiend, twisting it and breaking the ribs with painful snaps. With her foot, she uprooted the weapon and spun it around to knock the other half of the skull off with the blunt end. She ignored the raving fire-magician-person who she refused to acknowledge had an awesome skill's comment that was most certainly directed at her.

“I’m not strong enough.” Dasmira called, knowing to keep up her pretenses despite the situation. “We can’t hold them off forever, not with me as dead weight – we’ll have to find somewhere safe!”

The undead soldier before Arkadi released a deafening war cry, feeling Varan blood beginning to boil he yelled back something in the old tongue before he countered the clumsy overhead strike by swinging his heavy axe at the oxidized iron,breaking it in half. Now taking the offensive Arkadi released a series of strong overhead cuts that gouged out the dead skin and bashed it with a shield; to finish off the weak undead he decapitated it with a backhanded slash. To Arkadi this was the greatest sport, to live to fight and die fighting, and it only awakened an insatiable appetite. He began to run to a group of skeletons when a wave of fire turned the bones into ash and made him fly back. Damn Sorcerer! He singed my beard !

Growling now Arkadi began to fight more of the undead when more fire appeared surrounding the sorcerer and effectively distracting Arkadi, who managed to bring his shield up at the last second to catch the sword in the soft iron ring around the shield. Damn Sorcerer, as soon as this is over we will have a talk. he grumbled in his head as he pulled yanked the shield up along with the sword and its arm. Using his shield Arkadi crushed the skeletal undead and began to head towards the wall of fire.

Arkadi was then intercepted by a group of four undead soldiers who were, like the others, in various forms of death, but they were mostly skeletons. Arkadi really hated these creatures, their grins and empty sockets seemed to mock him. It was as if the sockets and grins said death is a joke and life is meaningless, especially yours. That seemed to fuel the growing blood rage and he smashed his shield and axe to tell the skeletons to come and get him.

Together they met with a great clash. The massive shield slammed against two of the skeletons and he swung his axe at one trying to flank him, breaking its jaw. While these creatures are easy to crush, they can’t feel pain and that is an advantage they have. The broken-jawed skeleton attacked fast at Arkadi’s open chest and stabbed him in his shoulder. With a flash of rage he swung his axe underhand and cracked its skull. Arkadi began a flurry of quick, strong blows crushing them into bones and dust. With a cough the Varan approached the fiery wall.

As the adventurers began to take on the offensive and drive the skeletons back, something else was making its way to them. These undead were but a distraction, just a group of laborers meant to snag the unwary and drag them down into Under Deep. The adventurers flashed, hacked, and slashed, feeling as if victory was under way - but it was not. If Athinar had only stayed at the gate for a bit longer he would feel the ever-approaching vibrations behind it. The howling of the undead and the sounds of battle drowned out any attention from the magically-barred metal gate.

A loud, high-pitched, agonizing screech sounded as the metal gate began to slowly ascend. To a normal person the screeching was enough to bring them to their knees, ready to be hacked down by the undead. A large clawed fist, roughly the size of a person's head reached out from below the door. It was big and hairy, with patches of fur missing from it. Its claws were a thick red, as if blood had never been washed from them. When the great metal door finally came to a screeching halt the adventurers heard the blood-curdling roar emit from the hidden beast.

Finally it lunged out. It had two long massive arms, roughly five feet long. On each arm was a huge clawed fist, firmly planted on the ground for support. It's body was wide and big, like a toll, only covered in a dark gray patchy fur coat. It had to long bent legs, and when this beast attacked it would launch itself with them. His feet had three deadly claws, so sharp they could rip through the flesh of a man with a single touch. It's gruesome head flicked around. His maw of a mouth was lined with sharp teeth, and his single cyclops-eye was blood red. Once again it let out a roar that immediately attracted the attention of the whole group.

The undead around the keep began to back away, ready to allow this ancient beast to feast on its prey. It leaped forward, right towards Dasmira, and the force of the great beast would surely crush her to death if she didn't move fast enough - or perhaps she would meet her end at its deadly claws as they ripped her apart limb from limb.

Despite the turn of circumstances for the worst, Serkan remained remarkably unshaken and composed. He kept his focus on the monsters, sword at the ready. The undead he had previously rammed with his shoulder was looking for another opening to attack, but this time, Serkan was going to take the offensive. Stepping forwards, Serkan swung the blade, channeling magic up through the weapon; those with sharp eyes may have noticed a faint ripple left in the wake of the blade while it was swung, but otherwise nothing else seemed out of the ordinary for the sword. The blade made a shrill, whistling screech when the vorpal edge parted through the air.

Seeing the incoming strike, the skeletal warrior shifted to the side, raising its shield in a falsely held belief that it would protect from the swing. A muffled, metallic thud rang through the courtyard, and the undead knight stepped back in surprise; its shield had split in half, a perfectly smooth, razor-thin divide marking where Serkan's magic-enhanced sword had cut through. The knight's arm was worse off, its bony arm had been split lengthwise from hand to elbow, the split and damaged fingers clutching languidly at what once was a whole shield.

Serkan very quickly followed up the slash with a quick strike with his sword at the creature's elbow, though this time without the aid of magic, saving it should he need it later. Even without the enchantment coursing through the weapon, the slash was more than enough of a blow to completely sever the creature's already damaged arm, which clattered to the ground in two halves. The creature roared loudly, attempting to lift its sword to retaliate, but missing an arm it was apparent the undead was having some difficulty keeping its balance and stance. As the monstrosity awkwardly stumbled in an attempt to swing, Serkan sidestepped to place himself behind the knight, thrusting the blade up and into the neck of the creature between its helmet and the collar of its armor.

With a final motion, Serkan pulled the blade sideways, and the undead soldier's helmet tumbled to the ground, its now headless body slumping over after. Serkan rolled the blade through the air, flicking it with his wrist to shake free some of the detritus sticking to the surface of the weapon. As more of the living dead began to approach, Serkan readied himself his eyes scanning from side to side. It was then that a wall of fire erupted in front of him, giving him a moment to step back and gather himself. The mage responsible for the firewall appeared very displeased for some reason or another with Dasmira, with Dasmira giving an unusually specific accusation in response.

"We will have time to settle this later, stop bickering," Serkan only raised his voice just enough to be heard over the crackle and roar of the burning ring of grass. Serkan flinched at an unbearably loud, metallic scraping noise, looking through the wall of fire as it started to die down. The creatures had started to back off, something utterly massive in comparison to the fetid walking corpses they had been fighting emerged, soemthing unlike any living thing Serkan had seen in his travels. Serkan didn't know what the roaring, cyclopian terror might have been; looking to it he wondered if the being was merely some large, dumb animal, or if the beast was a being of malevolence, who acted with intent and purpose.

The half-elf moved to stand beside Dasmira and Athinar, lowering his weapon to only hold it in a loose, casual grip while he observed, but then the cyclopian monster started to move, picking up speed very quickly, every large, heavy footfall bringing it that much closer to them. Serkan separated from Athinar and Dasmira to move to their left, watching to see if the hairy cyclops was going to follow him, but it had already looked to mark Dasmira as its target. He let out an annoyed grunt, cursing the fact that the monster had chosen to attack, of all people, the one among them who had moments ago claimed to be dead weight. Even so, they were in this together, and he wasn't about to stand by and do nothing.

At this point it was too late for Serkan to double back and return to offer support; the beast would get to Dasmira before he could get within striking range, but there was still one more trick Serkan could rely on. Serkan dug his heel into the ground, bracing himself and rolling the sword over his palm to flip the weapon into a reversed grip. He charged magic into the blade and took careful aim; a second later he slashed the blade horizontally. Once more the blade let out a melodious whistling as it cut through the air, throwing out a cutting wave from the tip. The sharp, cutting wave, visible as a thin, rippling distortion in the air, sailed through the air towards the one-eyed gargantuan.

Athinar narrowed his eyes, and said, "Poor innocent working woman? Hah." As the screech sounded, the gate opening, Athinar slowly turned his head around. Looking at the beast, unaffected by the sound, Athinar's eyes widened as he realized what this monster is. Oh no, the old fool didn't leave that in the keep.... Oh gods. At Serkan's admonition, Athinar twisted his lips in a wry grin. "Heh, it's been a while since anyone's described what I say as quarrelsome or provocative." As it leaped towards Dasmira, Athinar strafed over the ground to stand directly in front of her. "Though I don't particularly like you, you cagna ladro, I'll still help the 'dead weight' in this group." As Serkan let a vorpal wave fly, Athinar murmured, "Finno Fan," and a large, solid wall of fire sprung up from Athinar's body. At the center of the inferno, Athinar was nigh untouchable, and the beast would have to go through his flame shield to get to the "dead weight". Damn his need to protect everyone and their sister.