A Night Like Any Other? [Potentially M. Keisen]

[Zombie]

"It used to belong to my mentor," Perendi offered as explanation for her cloak, noticing how Féria had seemed momentarily taken off-guard by the mercenary's disappearing, "So I suppose you could call it a memory... I don't use any other magic." Had the raven-feather cloak belonged to anyone else, or even a respected enemy, she would have just left it behind- as it was, with how the feathers were losing their iridescent luster (and had been doing so for some time,) the tattered hem and the ragged hole that revealed it had been pinned to the ground at least once; not to mention how scratched and chipped the onyx in its clasp was, it probably made little sense for her to keep it, even after that explanation. But she wasn't able to let go of it, or what it still represented to her.

It was nothing but a damn disappointment to hear that the notes and scrolls were useless to them. "I know a few languages, but I've never even seen this one until today," She sighed, glowering at the diagrams, charts and symbols; "Gods dammit, I didn't think the bastard was this insane!" Maps would have definitely been helpful, or even a scrap of vellum with the name of a country, or even something relating to a mountain range, or perhaps even a village. Though the disaster made it easier to rifle through Féria's master's belongings, locating anything useful seemed to be questionable at best.

Moving toward another one of the many haphazard stacks of manuscripts, tomes and scrolls, she called over her shoulder: "What about the map on the floor? Would you be able to recognize your master with all the other tiny people there?" As with everything else in this place, the mercenary didn't think it would be quite that easy -didn't even know if he had a carved likeness on the map- but it was an idea. Several books with incomprehensible runes as titles, a weathered tome depiciting gruesome methods for either torture or human experimentation and one in that same, impossible tongue were flung across the room. They were soon joined by a few diagrams, an extremely detailed drawing that had something to do with membranous wings and several sheafs of notes that seemed to be in an arcane dialect. The third and fourth piles seemed to reveal much of the same.

The fifth pile, however, might have been something useful-- or it could have been completely misdirecting. Buried beneath more books, scrolls and a discarded quill was what looked like a map-case and a few crumpled sheets of vellum. Uncrumpling them revealed that some of the written words had either been underlined, circled, or otherwise had attenntion drawn to them: elegant illustrations, a smudge. Unfortunately, either the master's writing was too ornate for Perendi to read, or those notes might even have been in yet another language she'd never learned. Reaching into the map-case did reveal a map though; there were concentric circles that seemed to narrow in on one central location-- but like the map on the floor in one of the other halls, she couldn't make out what the labeling was. As far as she knew, it might have been a depiction of the master's birthplace, some rare herbs, or nothing that was of importance any longer and the ink was long-dried.

"I don't know if these matter at all either- but there is a map here, too. Does it mean anything to you?" She inquired with a grimace as she carried the map-case and crumpled notes over to Féria to mull over, before heading toward the sixth pile. She arched an eyebrow, thinking she might have seen something moving; but given the peculiarities with the candles and that massive eye overhead, it might have been just a trick of the light- or her own mind and probably was. "We might even have to go deeper in..." The war-hound mused, raking her hand back through her hair as she knocked a few books that seemed to depict some manner of arcane ritual aside. "Most of this shit's pointless."

[Keisen]

While Perendi was examining piles by the walls, Féria occupied herself by rifling through the papers on the main table. There were all sorts of scrolls and notes, filled with circular webs of flowing intertwined symbols. This sea of nonsense was occasionally interrupted by an unclear circular diagram or two, which also yielded no useful information. In the end, she just huffed and took a seat in the nearby chair. It was apparent that the bastard didn't keep maps on his table.

Perendi's offering, on the other hand, was a welcome surprise. She peered at it and carefully examine the maps. Although her comapnion's idea had merit, it would not work - this much was obvious to her.

"Those aren't real people," Féria shook her head. "They are just carvings... I'm not sure how the bats are made it look as if they were moving, but they don't actually represent anyone."

At a closer look, it appeared as if indeed, the circles did cross at some point, clearly marking a location, though the nature of the mage's interest in it was unclear. Were circles a form of language, a code perhaps? It seemed unlikely that her bastard of a master would resort to such simplicity. No, he would most likely go for symbolism.

"Perendi," Féria called, "do you have any idea what circles might mean? Beyond symbolizing connectedness of course..."

She suddenly got the feeling of anxiety, as if something was about to go monumentally wrong. Perhaps it was the circular iris of the cosmic eye above or perhaps it was the chilly foul air of the room. Either way, Féria wanted out and as fast as possible.

[Zombie]

The mercenary was disappointed that Féria hadn't uncovered anything else that might have been telling; though at that point, it was only expected. It seemed as though the other lady's master preferred to keep things just as closely guarded as a dragon lording over its treasure hord, after all. There were still countless scrolls, books and other manuscripts, notes, diagrams and torn sheets of vellum to look at on the floor- and it seemed as though the main table and the others were just as heavily-laden. "I wasn't sure if he might have enchanted some of those carvings to represent anyone of interest or not," She grumbled; it would have made things easier if those stone figures had actually been designed to track movement of certain individuals, but that theory was quickly blown apart. "But it makes things both easier and more difficult."

Though there were countless circular diagrams on the floor, tables and elsewhere, she was not equipped to make sense out of those. Though she was probably horribly mistaken though, the circles on the map were extremely clear to her, even if what the mage was interested in- or why- had yet to be discovered. Moving closer to Féria, the snake became quite animated and seemed more alive; reaching out to trace the wider circles with a finger, she would begin explaining what she thought they were looking at quite enthusiastically. "What we're looking at here is a tracking pattern. His search would have started here," The wider circles were again traced; as she spoke, she moved her finger to follow the intersection point, "You see how the circles are smaller here- and they cross? When you're looking for something and marking it on a map, the interesections would mean those two locations were very close- or that someone or something had information in one or both of those places." Finally, she would touch the smallest of the circles, "This would be where... Fuck, I don't know what he's looking for, but it would be where he thinks it can be found." Leaning against the table, she turned her head and spat blood on the floor; swallowing hard as her curse began to restrict her airways once again, swaying on her feet for a few moments.

While that made perfect sense to her, something about the tracking method seemed to be horribly wrong. It was a technique used -as far as she knew- widely by mercenaries, rangers, bounty and treasure-hunters. Had the circles been drawn around a city, castle, or even along the outer edges of an island or country, that would typically been an illustration on a war-map, designating where armed and armored groups would have been situated as attack points. It made no gods-damned sense for the mage to be using a very common tracking method, or looking at a war-map. But the symbolism behind circles? Connectedness was definitely a given.

"Other than connectedness?...Mmm... they can represent the sun, I think- but that makes no sense. Timelessness, magic and immortality are things they can represent, too. I've heard once or twice, that they could even be a symbol for movement, formlessness, potential... and eyes." The last word was little more than a hiss as she tilted her head upward briefly, glaring challengingly up at the cosmic eye.

Perendi... Her mind repeated Féria's use of the name that the wardog rarely ever used. She'd sworn she introduced herself as Eski; the thought of the other woman knowing what her real name was without being told was enough to cause the mercenary's hair to stand on end; a chill that only continued to course along her spine the longer they remained in that study. She'd never been claustrophobic before- there should have been no reason for that to set in now, she didn't think. The light was extremely peculiar, the study was on the cool side; with stagnant, foul air-- but black markets and stagnant water smelled worse. What a mess we've made, She thought wryly; though that thought had nothing to do with the state of the study.

It might have simply been because her curse was forcing her to pick on the other woman's nervousness and anxiety, but she was of the mind that something was horribly amiss; something that she couldn't quite put word to- it might have been how that celestial eye seemed to have them in its sight no matter where they went in that room; or simple nervousness at the thought that they might have been wasting far too much of their stolen time. There were no boxes or crates to hide in; not that she knew why she was overcome with the desire to hide. They needed to figure out exactly what Féria's master was looking for-- but at the same time, continuing to search seemed to be an exceptionally bad idea. If we stay where we are, something's going to happen. If we go back the way we came, we might be walking into a trap. "Féria, get that map!" It was ground out as an order through gritted teeth, though she was trying to keep her voice as level as she could. Moving toward the pile that had housed the map, she began shoving smaller cases and containers, a few tightly-rolled scrolls and a book into her pouches- she didn't think they could dally much longer, she'd show her companion what she'd just picked up when and if they were able to relax next. "You know him better than I do, think we'll find what we're looking for if we go deeper? Be ready to run." From what, though, she couldn't say yet either way.

[Keisen]

"The sun!" Féria exclaimed. "Of course, how could I have forgotten!" she put a map on the table and looked closer at the circles. "The sun means power, potential, but that's not the circle... See, I can't believe I forgot about this. The bastard has been using circles in his rituals to contain power within certain areas. I bet it's the same here."

The map now was almost the sole focus of Feria's attention, the eye and the ominous reliefs forgotten, though the lighting did still leave this disturbing feeling. The map was pale blue under those strange candles the paper seemed to be hiding something, a private joke shared between it and its real owner at the expense of those present.

"There are a lot of intersections," Féria commented. "But you can see them centered around this one place, a spot where all those powers collide. I bet he came there, in fact, I'm almost certain," she said. "This map is too imprecise to determine the exact location, we'll need to go to the main hall, I'll be able to project these circles there."

[Zombie]

"It doesn't make much sense to me," Perendi admitted begrudgingly, dragging a hand through her hair in disbelief at her own misunderstandings. Perhaps if she'd paid closer attention when others had attempted (in vain) to explain the workings of magic to her instead of letting her mind go blank and inquiring "how's it taste?" in regard to certain spell components, she would have been able to understand that they weren't looking at a simple tracking pattern. "Rituals? Do you know what kind of rituals?" She wasn't sure if Féria was privy to that kind of information- but given that her master seemed to be rather formiddable in his own right, it would have probably been helpful if she might have been able to hazard a guess.

The mercenary leaned closer as Féria's focus returned to the map; her own skin still crawling under the insistance that some sort of fatal mistake was probably going to be made; compounded by the uneasiness of remaining beneath the eye's almost hostile, constantly scrutinizing gaze. Under that ice-hued light, the pale azure hue given to the map made even it seem to be incorrect; almost as though it were daring the women to do anything, while sharing a nasty joke at their expense.

Dammit, we still don't know just what he was looking for, either! Digging through her pouches for the scrolls and books she'd taken just a short time ago from that somewhat-useful pile, she began rifling through them, giving cursory glances toward passages that might have possibly mentioned anything of relevance. None of her findings seemed to be particularly useful; they mainly discussed lost cities, ancient and forbidden magic, esoteric theories and descriptions of even stranger experimental procedures. The tome about lost civilizations and the few pages about forbidden magic, she offered to Féria with a shrug: "I don't know if either of these are useful in any way- the names of the places listed mean nothing to me- I've never heard of them- and the other one doesn't even make a little sense."

At last, she nodded; conceeding that there were numerous interesctions- and that they did surround a single location. "Alright- let's see where this bastard went. With luck, we'll be able to find him still." She didn't question what Féria meant by being able to project those rings onto the map in the great hall; it wouldn't have surprised her at all if it involved complicated arcane arts, or a strange ritual, to do anything of the sort. It seemed as good a real starting point as any, though- and as much as she had appreciated the strange, confusing beauty of the catacombs, the task they'd undertaken was still a rather urgent one.

[Keisen]

Féria took the map and walked out of the room, a sigh of relief not daring to escape her lips. It was definitely good to finally get out of the eye's penetrating gaze, to at last leave the judging dragons behind. The pale light of the dangerous seemed almost like the summer sun in comparison to the cold shine of the floating candles.

As the reliefs stared at the pair with their lifeless eyes, they almost seemed like dolls, a mere parody of the beauty the seemed to be when Perendi and Féria were approaching the study. The cold darkness flowed around them, almost tangible. The silence was tense, like a strained cord, waiting to go off and plunge all those caught in its web into primordial chaos and turmoil.

When Féria and Perendi did reach the main hall, they were alerted to rather loud breathing. It seemed whoever was in the chamber, was not afraid of them, or so no reason to hide their presence. It was good that Perendi was still under her cloak. At least whichever slave of the bastard's that was 5here, wouldn't see the mercenary.

The darkness of the corridor subsided, revealing the great hall in all its glory, a giant map of Le'raana still on the floor. There was however, someone else in the hall. A tall broad shouldered dark-skinned man with short black hair and black eyes. He was clad in a suit of chainmail which on his impressive build looked like a silk shirt. One of his hands held a longsword, another - a shield with some unknown emblem on it.

"Fifteen, I should have known," he said. "First an intruder comes, then you get here with a map from the master's office. Where is the intruder then? Pillaging the sanctum of the one who brought us into existence?"

"It's none of your business, Fourteen," Féria spat. "Provided I even knew what you were talking about."

The man just chuckled. "You have always been a terrible liar," he shook his head. "I know she is somewhere around here," his black eyes locked onto Féria again. "I know you want to find the master - for whatever misguided reason... Do you think you can actually touch master Nechyon without him allowing it? Are you that deluded?"

"What do you want, guard dog?" Féria cur the man off. She was in no mood to deal with this particular homunculus.

"You pronounce my title as if it were an insult," Fourteen chuckled, casually twirling the sword in his hand. "I am merely fulfilling the purpose master created me for. Now then, little intruder, will you show yourself, or should I slaughter Fifteen?"

"As if you could," Féria scoffed. Fourteen only smiled broadly, his black eyes flashing dark-green.

[Zombie]

Drawing her cloak closer about her shoulders as though to ward off the chill caused by an unseen winter wind, her trepidation only increased; though she remained shrouded within the shadows' embrace, her jaw clenched as she ground her teeth, eye darting about as though expecting something to come barreling out of the heavy shadows to attack them. It was the same anger-tinged uneasiness that she felt when dealing with a double-dealing employer.

While it was excellent to escape from the penetrating stare of that celestial eye and the ever-watchful dragons, she was wary and uncomfortable- now was not the time to relax, let alone dare to let her guard down. Drawing a deep breath, her left hand jerked her baselard from its sheath; her right arm drifted toward her meat skewer of its own accord- and as she tried to close phantom fingers around the handle of that weapon, that arm was drawn back swiftly, as though she'd been bitten by a rather vicious dog.

The reliefs, which had been simply gorgeous when she and Féria had approached Nechyon's study now seemed all-but-devoid of life; the oozing darkness that seemed to stretch in every direction was so thick that it almost seemed to be solid; Perendi was again taken by how absolutely wrong everything seemed to be. Walking just a pace behind Féria, serving as her cover in case anything tried to flank the pair or attack from behind, the delicious strain in the air -taut, dangerous, as tightly-strung as a harp-string about to snap- the all-encompassing silence of the corridor as thick and suffocating as an ether-drenched blanket, was enough to make the snake want to reach out and grab Féria; tell her to turn back, even if nothing  but discomfort and uncertainty awaited back in the study.

It was too late to turn back, anyhow. As the corridor's devouring darkness finally gave way to the great hall and its map of Le'raana again, her footsteps became lighter; more deliberate- for they were not alone. And again, the bastard just has to prove that he's got damn good taste. Féria's smart, beautiful and has a great ass. This guy's damn pretty too- and I wouldn't be surprised if the son of a bitch's pretty good with that sword, she thought as she critically eyed the swordsman; she and Féria seemed to be at something of a disadvantage. I wish I still had my hammer; chain's not the easiest thing to cut- he's got a gods-damned shield and his sword's longer than mine. Things are going to get interesting.

Chainmail was wonderful at deterring the blade of a slashing weapon. A wicked little smile curved Perendi's lips as she sheathed her baselard; fingers closing around the handle of her meat skewer instead-- its blade's length was comparable to that of her baselard, but the difference lied in the fact that it was a thrusting and impaling weapon.

Leaning forward, she would bump her shoulder against Féria's, leaning in close to whisper: "I'm going around." She wasn't leaving the robed woman to face the swordsman on her own; rather, she began sidling, the whisper-soft slide of her deliberate footsteps augmenting the sounds of the great hall rather than countering them as she made a circuit of the hall. You're not doing shit to her, she silently argued against the man's claim that he'd kill Féria.

Once she positioned herself behind him and slightly to the right, she would come launch her first attack; a simple test to see how skilled their opponent was. Darting close, she would begin to harass and harry him; flicking her skewer as though it were a fencing blade so that it might have prodded at his back and side; feinting, testing to see if he left an opening as she deliberately tried to maintain his attention and piss him off as she lunged forward and danced back. If Fourteen presented her with the opportunity to do so, she would lift her skewer and attempt to drive it deep into his side.

[Keisen]

Perendi’s first hit got Fourteen by surprise which cost him a nasty wound in the back. He staggered forward, but swiftly recovered and sidestepped the rest of the blows with ease a man with barely working back should not have.

“That’s cheap,” he said, turning to the source of the blows. “Here I thought someone opposing our master would have some honor. Regardless,” green light flared under chainmail, closing the wound and mending the mail, “those fighting with tricks won’t see a true victory.”

Fourteen was distracted, Féria saw an opportunity. She snapped her fingers and unleashed a roaring inferno at her opponent, which raced at him like a mad dragon, spewing flames everywhere. It was a twisted sort of luck that Perendi was right behind Fourteen, when he turned around and brought his shield up. It flashed blue, and when the fire impacted it, there was a furious bang as the inferno was met with its equal.

The people on the map seems to pause and observe the battle of giants, the ultimate contest of wills as unstoppable flame was met with unmovable wall. Blue clashed with red, illuminating the entire hall, filling it with muffled growls of beasts long gone.

“You might be Nechyon’s final masterpiece,” Fourteen said, his cheek burnt by a stray spark of fire, when the last of the flames died down, “but you cannot even hope to defeat me.”

“I don’p’t need to defeat an obedient doll,” Féria spat, “I’ll just break you.”

She swiped her hand, unleashing yet another torrent of unrelenting fire, as Fourteen brought his shield up again.

[Zombie]

It seemed as though luck might have favored the bold, after all; for the rather vicious stab to his spine seemed to sink home; through chainmail and the skin beneath- at least that stab was enough to send their opponent off-balance; even if through means that the mercenary didn't immediately comprehend, the man moved as though he'd barely even sustained an injury. A low growl escaped her throat as a brillant green glow healed his wound and repaired his armor; that was what she would have called a dirty little trick.

It seemed to her as though Nechyon had created his homonculi to serve as bipedal living weapons meant to surpass all others; artificial, albeit sentient beings armed with dangerous intellect and even more deadly ability. But Perendi wasn't one to back down in a fight; she was determined that she and Féria were going to bring this bastard down through any means possible.

"Who are you to question another's honor?" She growled; though there was an almost philosophical query to that question- to her, honor was subjective: what one person saw as a detestable, underhanded tactic; another would see as a means for insuring their own survival. It seemed as though she'd bought Féria the time she needed- at least for the time being.

Perhaps Lady Luck was an actual deity, rather than a simple concept that gamblers called out to when placing a fool's wager; for when Féria unleashed that immense, almost draconic torrent of flames, the sapphire light that Fourteen's light emitted was enough to protect both of them- a truly ironic twist of fate, if there ever was one. Crimson and azure surged together; though rather than creating violet, they remained separate, distinct forces of ageless magic; the wills of two enraged juggernauts primally raging against one another.

Even if she couldn't hope to match their magical assaults, at least the mercenary could try to keep Fourteen distracted; offer Féria some measure of cover so the mage could continue her barrage. "Cockiness has no place in a fight," She snarled at Fourteen as she ducked behind his shield-arm again as Féria unleashed another barrage of intensely-brilliant flame. Thinking she might have seen an opening, a possibility to buy her another opportunity, Perendi would move closer to their opponent still; close enough that another three or four steps would have likely put her flush against his back; then side-stepping a couple of paces.

Readjusting her weight so she could propel herself off of her left foot, she would raise her skewer again; this time attempting to drive that implement into his shield-arm, trying to disable it by thrusting that straight blade either directly above his elbow, or into the joint itself- if that maneuver was successful, she would begin wrenching her skewer viciously from side to side, like a hunting hound shaking its prey; while simultaneously trying to slam her hip into his, intending to upset his balance at least a little with that maneuver.

An unwinnable fight does not exist. Though in the back of her mind, she had to wonder why all their opponent appeared to have been doing thus far was trying to defend himself; it was still unclear whether he was as skiled a swordsman as he appeared to be, or if that blade was simply meant to be wielded for the sake of intimidation purposes- if his shield was enchanted as it appeared to be, could it have been that Fourteen was a mage, like Féria? She couldn't say for certain either way, at least not yet

[Keisen]

It was almost a success, but in the last minute Fourteen brought his shield hand a little lower, sot age Peendi's sword passed millimeters above it. This action did cost him a burnt brow and another burnt cheek, which were now smoking. It was pure luck that Feria's flames had stopped by then.

Féria herself seemed to have realized that she could have burnt her new friend to a crisp and took a small step back, her fists shaking.

It was one fluid motion in which Fourteen spring into action, withdrew his shield and swiped his sword to where he thought Perendi's hand to be. It, to the man's visible irritation did not meet any resistance, so he stepped away to stand opposed to both Perendi and Féria. "This trick won't help you forever, little trickster," he warned Perendi, even if he was looking in the wrong direction at the time.

"Why do you remain loyal to the bastard?" she asked the other homunculus, staring at him with almost tangible anger. The air between them seemed to shake as they once again went to battle, even if this time it was one of words. "You don't mean anything to him!"

"You have always been selfish. Fifteen," the man replied. "Selfish and stupid. Do you think any aspect of you came to exist independently? We were all designed by the master, he gave us life, and unlike you I will defend him for bringing me into this world? Is this not why children defend their parents?" Fourteen asked, his face set in a vicious scowl. "You are the pinnacle of master's art, yet you don't even appreciate being given life!"

"You pitiful guard dog," Féria snarled. She took a step forward and snapped her fingers, releasing three brilliant griffins which flew at Fourteen, screeching through the emptiness of the room for his death. "Do you think he considers you to be anything more than a piece of flesh for his personal amusement? I will not be caged anymore!"

[Zombie]

A frustrated growl and shake of her head were given as Fourteen's shield-arm lowered a bit; just out of the range of the mercenary's attack. She had understood the risk of potentially being scorched by Féria's flames after attempting such a risky tactic, but there were times that sacrifices needed to be made in order to fell an opponent- and most wounds could be taken care of once an enemy was dispatched. However, it was nothing short of luck that had prevented her companion's flames from reaching her; while scorching the other warrior's face and leaving his skin smoking in the aftermath. She would probably have been quite horrifically burnt, had that burst of searing flames had managed to ingulf her; the thought of which revealed that though her cloak's enchantment was beneficial, in this bout, it was also something of a liability.

Despite the man's warning, it seemed as though he was still at least momentarily unable to discern her location; his sword swung in the exact opposite direction of where her skewer-hand was currently positioned, his head turned to face the wrong direction as well. When Fourteen tried to discern her location, Perendi would again launch herself into motion again; lifting her right arm and briefly pressing her forearm against the onyx in her cloak's clasp, deactivating the enchantment. Once her position was now made apparent as the shadows seemed to simply flow downward, not dissimilar to how rainwater poured during a torrential storm and slither back up the walls again, she would dart toward the left, feinting with her skewer.

"Your ideals are misguided and foolish," She snarled at Fourteen as she lunged forward, simply trying to drive him closer to Féria and keep him off-guard so her newfound friend might possibly be able to land a blow; acting as little more than a royal harrier trying to flush a fox out of its den- skewer thrusting forward and dancing back as though she were simply waiting for the right opportunity to arise again before striking.

"Do you not understand that you and Féria don't owe your bastard of a master shit? Children do not blindly pledge loyalty to their parents, any more than a knight will swear fealty to a senselessly cruel liege! You are a slave, a fucking toy that your precious cunt of a master will shatter once he gets bored of you!" The mercenary snarled, blood dripping from her lips as she refused to relent to the light-headedness that came in the wake of those words; "You have no purpose as you are now, nothing to call your own and no reason to fight! Come, join us and find something to fight for, something to believe in!" Her breathing came in short, ragged gasps at the end of that snarled argument; knees threatening to give out as she strained to catch her breath and ride out the pinpoints of white light that danced within her vision. There is no such thing as a timeless enemy.

There was no malice or contempt in her voice; instead, it was as though she was simply attempting to drive a hard bargain against a particularly hard-headed merchant. The snake couldn't have claimed that she hated Fourteen; no, she found it regrettable that he seemed so willing to blindly offer loyalty to a master who did not seem to understand that neither Féria nor Fourteen's lives were at his disposal.

Once Féria summoned three magnificent, radiant and deadly gryphons toward Fourteen, their voices rising and calling for his death, Perendi would give Fourteen a choice: pivoting so that she was positioned behind him once again, she would raise her left leg and attempt to aim a side-kick to his lower back; intending to send him stumbling toward those beautiful beasts' waiting beaks or jaws-- "Come with us, or die. Either way... this ends... now!"

[Keisen]

It all happened so fast. One moment Fourteen was raising his shield, and next one griffin was banished by the glowing surface, while the other another one was dodged and instead impacted the wall, not leaving a mark on the polished stone. Number three turned out to indeeed be lucky as the third griffin pounced on the man and tore his chainmail to shreds, setting his entire body on fire.

Horrific scream tore through the room, bouncing off the walls and colliding into a massive crescendo, which continued to increase in volume as the griffin tore through flesh and bone. When the flame finally subsided, there was nothing but a burnt husk. The screams died down - to hard wet pants. Green light flashed and bone, muscles, tendons and tissue mended themselves, even the chainmail rearranged into its previous pattern. Fourteen gut up with a growl and jumped at Féria, slashing his sword at her. It tore through flesh like hot knife through butter.

To Feria’s credit she stood up quickly after falling, her hand clutching her chest, where green glow was already doing its work. She was quick to stagger away from her opponent and closer to Perendi.

When Fourteen eventually turned to face both women, they were treated to a bizarre sight, disgusting even. While his body was apparently fully healed, his head was not. Skin peeled off and now burnt chunks of it hung loosely, in other places skin was absent altogether. The entirety of his hair was burnt to ash. Round eyes and barely present lips were staring back at Perendi and Féria.

“You are a mercenary,” Fourteen said, looking at Perendi. “You sell your loyalty to the highest bidder, it’s not for you to lecture me about commitment. I wasn’t created to be a guard, but wasn’t fit for the intended purpose. It’s the path I chose, I made my promise and it’s entirely irrelevant what the master thinks of it. I swore to protect his domain, I will not betray my oath, and if I have to die for it - so be it.”

He brought his shield up and charged at Perendi and Féria.

[Zombie]

The small measure of relief when the third gryphon managed to ignite Fourteen was not long-lasting enough to savor; let alone acknowledge for the brief span of time that it took to draw a breath. Though his shield was still nullifying most of Feria's attacks, it seemed as though the third time was indeed the charm- as he shrieked and wailed in agony, Perendi simply stood impassively, taking that moment to regain her breath and shake off the light-headedness while their opponent was shredded and torched by that final gryphon. A low growl of rage tore itself from her throat; though the mercenary had moved in an attempt to knock Feria away from Fourteen, it seemed as though the man had speed on his side as well as that strange, regenerative magic- and though rage began rising from the pit of her stomach, her companion managed to rise almost immediately after falling; that same green glow causing the mercenary to shake her head and exhale a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Not knowing exactly how difficult Feria's wound would be to mend, or whether she'd need assistance beyond her own innate healing ability, she closed the distance between Feria and herself, flanking the other woman, trying to communicate: Don't let this fuckwit have his way, with a quick, concerned glance.Though she had faced many different opponents -some of them being quite inhuman- she would never have expected to see the aberration that stood before them; Fourteen had apparently been reduced to a ruinous state; the sickening, acrid, oily scent of charred flesh assaulting the warrior's nostrils.

"I've never fought for anyone but myself," Perendi sneered- and it was nothing but honest: she didn't know where her birthplace might have been, but that didn't matter to her, as she swore fealty to no kingdom, barony, or even dutchy. She sold her services -not her loyalty- to organizations, smaller groups and the occasional individual that needed them. Fourteen was starting to piss her off immensely; she'd mistakenly assumed that there might have been a way to get through his thick skull and force him to see that his misguided claims of loyalty didn't seem to be anything more than a slave refusing to acknowledge that they weren't doing themselves or anyone else a favor by adhering to those peculiar ideals. There was nothing else that could be said to make the battered, burnt fool understand any of it; it would have been nothing more than a waste of breath.

"Fuck!" Was the only warning she had the time to snarl at Feria as Fourteen began his charge, she would pivot to face Feria, trying to hook her right arm around her companion's waist and jerk her close, probably quite roughly. If she was successful, she would throw herself forward in an attempt to curl around her presumably still-wounded companion and use the momentum to try and roll out of the way of the monstrosity's path; even if only by a very short distance. (If she hand't managed to grab Feria, she would have simply thrown herself and rolled out of the way regardless.)

Rising to her knees after a rather rough landing, she would regain her footing again and ram her baselard back into its sheath. Looks like there might be a couple of openings. Though she would have preferred to be able to wield her dagger in her off-hand, breathing through tightly-clenched teeth, eye narrowed to little more than a glittering slit, Perendi would move to close in on Fourteen- what would begin as a slow, deliberate stalking pace would increase to a near-run; devouring the distance between them so she could raise her left hand, attempting to grasp hold of one of his bulging eyes, trying to crush and tear it from its socket; simultaneously attempting to ram a knee into his chainmail-armored stomach.

((If there are any stupid typos or anything of that nature, I apologize. I broke my elbow a few days back (it's just a stupid little crack; not a major break) and I'm still adjusting to one hand being mostly immobilized.))

[Keisen]

Visible frustration became apparent on Fourteen’s face when Féria and Perendi escaped his attack, but he didn’t allow himself to hesitate. Since Feria’s healing was taking its sweet time, green light flaring from time to time followed by sighs of relief or hisses of pain, he lunged forward, cutting the woman again, leaving a deep wound in her stomach. His skill though could only do so much until the sheer power of circumstances ignited into a violent torrent of flame, which flew from Féria’s fingers and onto his head. The fire was, of course, deflected, but it did its job - Fourteen staggered back.

Perendi’s assault on his eye earned a scream from Fourteen, but even as she crushed it, he managed to step away panting heavily - screams of pain swallowed down his damaged throat.

“You think I’m a slave,” he rasped, glaring at Perendi with one eye. “I know master Nechyon cares not for me or my loyalty. I know I will never amount to anything close to an equal in his eyes. It doesn’t matter,” Fourteen spat blood at the floor, it seemed to blend so well with the stone. “I wasn’t created a warrior, I became one. I wasn’t given my freedom, I made one. I wasn’t given my pride or honor - I created them myself. It will take much more than a whining spoilt girl and a damaged mercenary to change me. I will not abandon everything I made.”

Fourteen brought up his shield and sword, the latter of which was quivering ever so slightly, and charged at Perendi.

[Zombie]

When Fourteen's speed proved to be superior again as he closed on Feria, slicing deeply into the poor woman's stomach, Perendi could only manage to cast a worried look over her shoulder at her companion-- trying to rush to her aid while there was still the resilient guard dog to deal with would probably have ended up quite poorly. All she could do at the moment in regard to the other woman's plight was hope that her healing magic was enough to at least keep her alive and coherent until the other warrior was brought down- and that her wounds weren't fatal. The flames that again ingulfed Fourteen's head was enough to make her believe that, at least for the moment, Feria's injuries weren't grevious enough, nor her strength drained too much, for her to pull through for now. Concern and sympathy had to be swallowed for the time being; she had to allow herself to trust her friend- and try to take out the son of a bitch in any way she possibly could.

Though the bestial warrior deflected Feria's flames, that attack had bought the mercenary the time she'd needed to crush Fourteen's eye; a cruel grin twisting her countenance as his eye became little more than a smashed grape in her fist; sticky, slimy and oozing clear fluids between her fingers. His scream made her grin grow even wider; something far more malicious as her own eye glittered in defiance as he continued to plead his case, explain why he adhered to his ideals. That grin became a contemptuous sneer as she simply growled: "What a shame. I don't give a shit about some stupid bastard's misguided sense of 'honor' or 'pride'" It was nothing more than a difference of perspective and the likelihood of them ever managing to see things the same way would probably always been nonexistant.

Her own blackened-crimson blood spilled past charcoal-grey lips and dripped down her chin; nothing more than the price she paid for continuing to speak at length. Breath coming in shallow, sharp pants through flared nostrils; swaying slightly on her feet as the floor began to undulate beneath her booted feet, she nevertheless attempted to pivot on her heel to present her enemy with a narrower target; though she wasn't able to move quite swiftly enough. His vaguely-quivering swordblade tore through the nonprotective cloth of her shirt; slashing straight across her collarbone, releasing more of that too-dark blood to stain her shirt. It wasn't a fatal wound, though it was deep enough to bleed freely, burn and ache enough to cause the mercenary to release a low, pained grunt and stagger backward a step.

The shield-blow that she took to the side, though; that caused her to voice a muffled, pained scream through tightly-clenched teeth and breathe shallowly from the impact, almost dropping to her knees as she heard the tale-tell pop of a lower rib or two cracking; white-hot agony blooming along her side as she momentarily doubled over; eye rolling to the back of her head as she heaved; liquor that she'd drank much earlier and blood from her own curse-ravaged throat splattering the floor. Though it was extremely painful, there would be extensive bruising compounding that pain and she'd have to be extremely careful not to sustain another blow to her left side -or to avoid landing on that side if she had to resort to evasive maneuvering again- she handn't felt anything snap or splinter and couldn't recall a single moment in which a pair of cracked ribs had been the sole cause of anyone's death.

The electrical currents of adrenaline, coupled with the euphoric thrill of the fight drove her onward relentlessly; lurching upright once more, swaying and staggering a bit on her feet, the enraged warrior allowed the flames of fury that ignited in the pit of her stomach to drive her forward toward Fourteen again; once she managed to close the distance between them, she would attempt to seize his slightly quivering sword-arm in her left hand and savagely twist that limb backward- trying to either break it or yank it from its socket. Simultaneously, she would maneuver her right arm in an attempt to ram the stump into his throat, just beneath his jaw.

[Keisen]

There was a spark of satisfaction in Fourteen’s eyes as Perendi spewed blood on the floor. The momentum gained, he straightened and took position of a waiting panther. With a nonexistent breath of wind he lunged, sword pointed at the woman, its tip crimson from all the bloodletting. Under Perendi’s counterattack Fourteen twisted and turned, parrying her strikes with his sword or meeting them head on with his shield.

It was like watching a pair of leaves twisting in a wind, floating between dense trees and meeting again. Clashing and retreating, carried by momentum, living in the moment. Two masters of their art moving with innate grace of nature, dancing to the tune of death and euphoria, the rest of the world speechless, forgotten in favor of the for now ultimate opponent.

It happened so fast. Just a spark from Féria who was still lying on the floor made Fourteen lose his balance for just a fraction of a second - and it cost him. The dance came to an end, grace freezing, opponents utterly motionless, as if statues made by gods themselves. Tow marble giants standing in perfect stillness for just a flicker of time... Until Fourteen’s body slacked and fell on Perendi under the overwhelming force of gravity, her sword coming through his skull dictating his demise. His chainmail did not break the deaf silence as the remnants of the graceful flight was still ringing in both their ears. The hot crimson blood from the mortal wound - a mark for the victor.

[Zombie]

A glower twisted Perendi's countenance at the smug satisfacion in Fourteen's eye; a sneer curving her lip as again the opponents resumed their positions; serpent and panther caught again by an age-old, hypnotic rhythm. The sound of their footfalls, of steel ringing against steel, the grunts, groans and snarled profanities as one blade slashed into another's flesh carried a melody far more primal than any bard's instrument could have sounded. Nothing in the great hall mattered any longer; in fact, even the watchful eyes of the reliefs might as well have ceased to exist; even time itself may very well have ceased to exist- for all that mattered to the mercenary was her opponent. They did not meet as mercenary and warrior-homunculus, nor even as adversaries- but as war machines; beasts that reveled in the thrill of the fight, as equals.

Their grand performance ended far too swiftly; a misstep caused by a sorcerous spark that seemed to tear through the fabric of both time and reality; causing the river of time to cease flowing for the span of a blink of an eye. Just long enough to manipulate the hand of fate in a miniscule way; causing Perendi's opponent to stumble and fall toward her- unfortunately for him, it wasn't her arm that managed to break his fall, but rather, her blade; penetrating through one side of Fourteen's skull and emerging through the other; for a moment, it probably looked as though a blood-slick horn adorned with miniscule bone fragments and scraps of gelatinous, glistening grey matter had jutted from the back of his head. Blood and the echoes of their fight roaring in her ears, the mercenary did not even hear the scrape of boots, the clatter and jingle of chainmail; didn't immediately notice the blood that she was showered in.

Bracing her legs to keep from bucking beneath Fourteen's dead weight, she twisted and wrenched her blade free from his skull; right arm coming to catch her opponent around the shoulders as she lowered his corpse to the floor, then dragged her baselard's blade along her right sleeve as she sheathed it again. Wincing, trembling a bit from exhaustion and the pain of her own wounds, she made her way back over to Féria and dropped gracelessly to her knees beside her; that sound only briefly interrupting the return of the silence, rather than breaking it. Though her head swam and she was panting quite loudly, she wasn't going to allow herself to collapse even for a little while; there was still too much at stake, too much that had to be accomplished.

"Are you okay?" It might have been a pointless question, but she had no idea what the extent of Féria's healing magic was- or if that magic took any sort of toll on her. It was better to see if her companion might have been in need of some manner of assistance or rest, than to assume that everything was fine and immediately expect her to work on the map projection- if it was necessary, that could wait until the mage had at least somewhat recouperated, regained some lost strength.

[Keisen]

Fourteen’s body fell on the floor with a deaf thud, and warm blood flowed in all directions, making a dark pool around him, crimson blending into black. His hands still clutched the longsword and the enchanted shield, though unmoving.

Féria looked on, her expression blank. She managed to sit up and even if she was a little weak, it was nothing she couldn’t handle. “I’m mostly alright, thank you, yourself?” she asked Perendi. “Nechyon is a bastard, but at least he got the regeneration right on fifteenth try.” She stood up and almost collapsed, but managed to steady herself at the last moment.

“You should take his shield,” she said, “for when your arm is replaced. It’s enchanted to stop most branches magic...” Féria paused and looked at other corridors, “I don’t think we have much time left, everyone would have heard the fight by now. Let me just...”

She took the map from her pocket and held it over the image of Le’raana on the floor. There was a vague motion of her hand and the stone ignited with circles, all in locations corresponding to the map they took from Nechyon’s office. The morbid green light shone above the carved mountains and forests, twisting and turning, going around Fourteen’s dead body and Perendi. The extrapolation was finally complete.

“Here,” Féria pointed at one of the crests of the Terrin mountains. “Whatever the bastard’s searching for, it is in this mountain - or on it, doens’t matter. We should go there, but for now, let’s just get out before more of his dogs come.”

It was in dry silence that the pair left the base, the reliefs looking at their retreating backs of the unlikely allies with unclear expressions. Their steps echoing against the polished stone in ominous silence.

[Zombie]

There wasn't enough time to entomb Fourteen in one of the numerous chambers, unfortunately- though he had been unwilling to give up the ideals he'd clung to until the last breath, he had been a worthy adversary and as such, would have deserved a better final resting place than the hall's floor. But dragging him to one of those other chambers and locking his corpse away would likely only serve to make the situation even more precarious than it was. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Perendi nodded at Féria's self-assessment and even managed a short, harsh bark of a laugh at her rather dry-seeming almost-pun. "That he is, very much- but it's damn good that he finally figured that magic out!" She agreed, clambering back to her feet as well, "I'm fine," She stated with a careless shrug; it would take more than a laceration, heavy bruising and a few cracked bones to do her in, after all- and once they were out of the catacombs, she'd stop long enough to at least wrap the worst of her injuries.

"It'll definitely be useful," Perendi agreed; crossing back to Fourteen's corpse and wrenching the buckler out of his hand, sliding the straps over her right shoulder. A quick glance was given to his longsword as well; though she couldn't tell whether or not it was ensorcelled as well, but it looked like a well-used, elegant blade, though nothing that wouldn't have been obtainable from any very skilled blacksmith. It didn't seem to her that he had been carrying anything else of use, either; which wasn't too surprising. "I don't think we do, either; the more we wait, the further away he could be moving, as well."

Awe shone on her face when the map on the floor lit up with eerie green light; Féria's magic projecting not only the circles, but a clear path as well. Coming to stand closer to the image of Le'raana, she made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat; though the path and specific mountain that Féria had revealed were unknown to the mercenary, the mountain range itself was very familiar- she'd traveled through the Draconi Forest and into the easternmost foothills of those mountains a while back; thankfully, it didn't look like their current destination was anywhere near the Night Mother's territory. "The Terrins. I haven't been very far into them, but as long as we avoid the eastern hills, we'll be fine." Well, that was what she assumed, at any rate.

Perhaps if they found whatever Nechyon was after before he was able to reach the destination, they'd have an advantage; after all, it didn't seem likely that a powerful -if arrogant- magic-user would be venturing into the mountains to look for plants or rocks; even if there might have been gems to mine. Leaving the catacombs sounded like an extremely good plan before they ended up face-to-face with a threat that they might possibly have been unable to handle. The silence that fell between them as they vacated the base was paradoxically easy and uncertain; much like the expressions of the reliefs as they finally made their way out of the stunning subterranean hell.

There wasn't enough time to entomb Fourteen in one of the numerous chambers, unfortunately- though he had been unwilling to give up the ideals he'd clung to until the last breath, he had been a worthy adversary and as such, would have deserved a better final resting place than the hall's floor. But dragging him to one of those other chambers and locking his corpse away would likely only serve to make the situation even more precarious than it was. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Perendi nodded at Féria's self-assessment and even managed a short, harsh bark of a laugh at her rather dry-seeming almost-pun. "That he is, very much- but it's damn good that he finally figured that magic out!" She agreed, clambering back to her feet as well, "I'm fine," She stated with a careless shrug; it would take more than a laceration, heavy bruising and a few cracked bones to do her in, after all- and once they were out of the catacombs, she'd stop long enough to at least wrap the worst of her injuries.

"It'll definitely be useful," Perendi agreed; crossing back to Fourteen's corpse and wrenching the buckler out of his hand, sliding the straps over her right shoulder. A quick glance was given to his longsword as well; though she couldn't tell whether or not it was ensorcelled as well, but it looked like a well-used, elegant blade, though nothing that wouldn't have been obtainable from any very skilled blacksmith. It didn't seem to her that he had been carrying anything else of use, either; which wasn't too surprising. "I don't think we do, either; the more we wait, the further away he could be moving, as well."

Awe shone on her face when the map on the floor lit up with eerie green light; Féria's magic projecting not only the circles, but a clear path as well. Coming to stand closer to the image of Le'raana, she made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat; though the path and specific mountain that Féria had revealed were unknown to the mercenary, the mountain range itself was very familiar- she'd traveled through the Draconi Forest and into the easternmost foothills of those mountains a while back; thankfully, it didn't look like their current destination was anywhere near the Night Mother's territory. "The Terrins. I haven't been very far into them, but as long as we avoid the eastern hills, we'll be fine." Well, that was what she assumed, at any rate.

Perhaps if they found whatever Nechyon was after before he was able to reach the destination, they'd have an advantage; after all, it didn't seem likely that a powerful -if arrogant- magic-user would be venturing into the mountains to look for plants or rocks; even if there might have been gems to mine. Leaving the catacombs sounded like an extremely good plan before they ended up face-to-face with a threat that they might possibly have been unable to handle. The silence that fell between them as they vacated the base was paradoxically easy and uncertain; much like the expressions of the reliefs as they finally made their way out of the stunning subterranean hell.

The trek back to Zantaric had been largely calm; the thunderstorm had passed a few hours ago and the midday sun shone brightly on the jungle's verdant flora. Though the sense of urgency and unease remained heavy in the air and it seemed as though no matter how quickly they walked, Perendi and Feria were both slowed by and drowning in time. That peculiar sense of things not being quite right remained as a steady undercurrent; a force that drove the unlikely companions to only stop briefly in Zantaric proper. Just long enough to fill their water and liquor-skins, pick up necessary provisions for the journey and stop at the tavern to see if Perendi's company had arrived yet or not.

It would seem as though fate had not favored the pair at first; for most people claimed that they had not seen a group of four traveling through the town. Of course, with Zantaric being Zantaric, a queen could have wandered naked through their streets and no one would have ever claimed to notice her, including the hypothetical slaver that would have captured her. However, at last, the bartender had relented and admitted that a group that fit the mercenary's description had been seen heading to catch a ship, bitching and griping about their horrible luck.

------

"Fuck me, how much longer are we waitin'?" A soft, lyrical voice demanded; the words at odds with the voice itself.

"If you ask that one more time, Dinae, I'll tear your gods-damned tongue out of your mouth!" Came the harsh, clipped reply.

"You're bein' an ass, Hein! B'sides, She'd have your chamberpot-suckin' head if you tried anythin' like that!" The first speaker, Dinae, challenged.

"Is this the way you act when she's not around? I didn't know I was supposed to mind bird-brained, shit-nosed little children!" A third voice spoke up; low-pitched and velvety, yet simply oozing irritation.

The trio stood a few feet from each other, bickering and moaning about being bored, not understanding how it could take another fifteen minutes for the ship to be ready and how many bones the next person was going to break, if the others didn't shut their mouths and be patient. A fourth individual stood further away than the nitpickers, sighing and trying to ignore the other three. That fourth individual stood a bit taller, blue robes rustling softly against the ground and moving further from the ragtag group, noticing two women walking in their direction: a grey-skinned, one-eyed warrior that was immediately recognizable and an auburn-haired, green-eyed lady in elegant robes. The other three would be informed about her return soon enough.

Perendi and the dark-skinned, champagne-blonde, blue-robed elf talked at length for a few moments; the ashen warrior explaining most of the details about what had happened, while letting Féria fill the other mage, Tvastri, in as well. Once the situation had been explained, the small group agreed that they'd accompany Féria and their leader to the Terrin Mountains; they'd been trying to meet back up with her anyway, but until now, had been unsuccessful. Finally, they had been able to pay for passage and board the vessel; heading for the continent of Adela.

The ship had docked in Ketra; allowing the peculiar band to find food and lodging in one of the city's numerous inns for the night. The pale, blue-eyed, bald swordswoman named Dinae and the chain-scythe wielding, golden-eyed Eladrin called Hein were sent to finish the last-minute preparations for tomorrow morning's excursion. A petite, pale, violet-eyed and extensively tattooed elven assassin who called herself Seloua would attempt to converse with Féria and try convince her to play cards while Perendi and Tvastri departed upstairs, toward the rooms that had been procured for the night.

------

"You should have realized by now that I don't really like magic," Perendi signed clumsily with her left hand as she sat on Tvastri's bed, watching the mage warily; like the other three, he was a relatively new recruit- after disbanding the Hounds a while back, she had decided to start over, with a new band of subordinates. Hopefully they would be the last new company she founded, until she was finally able to purchase an island. Because she'd only known the mage for the past few months, she was still fairly uncertain about how much trust she was going to put in him; even if he had proven to be rather useful on more than one occasion.

"I know. You should be thankful that I can even do anything like this. I'm not a cleric," The mage muttered distractedly.

"I'm not going to end up with a second fucking head, am I?"[/b] Those slow, fumbling, one-handed gestures were accompanied by a somewhat teasing smirk.

"Of course not. It's too late to reattach your old hand, so this is going to hurt."

With that, Tvastri began chanting in an ancient, slimy-sounding arcane tongue; gutteral, harsh and snarling, filled with long pauses during which the silence seemed to ooze and slither; followed by festering, feathery, singsong intonations. A low thrumming sound seemed to fill the room; a noise that was more felt than precisely heard, as barely-visible, golden threads shimmered in the air, growing thicker and darkening substantially, seemingly tarnishing, as they came to rest on Perendi's right arm; burrowing into her flesh as they began meticulously reviving dead nerves, piecing together tattered muscle and bone, knitting destroyed ligaments, tendons, muscle and veins back together again. A scream tore itself free of Perendi's throat, her frame trembling, one foot tapping out a staccato rhythm as those quickly-blackening threads dove ever-deeper; the tainted stench of her curse filling the room as dead skin was peeled away, swiftly replaced by raw, new skin that quickly darkened and thickened: from the elbow down, the new limb was a dull off-black; a subdued shade that contrasted sharply against her pale grey coloration.

------

The following morning, they set off into the Terrin Mountains, following Féria's trail. Though they'd ended up beset every now and again by bandits and orcs; minor skirmishes that had been more irritating than anything else, they had found their destination by mid-day, when the sun was reaching its zenith.

[Keisen]

Féria had to admit that she found Perendi's group with their occasional banter very amusing. She couldn't however deny the dissonance she felt, the ambivalence. This new atmosphere was so different from what she was used to that sometimes Féria felt her head spin from just trying to cpmprehend the full scope of the change. It was refreshing to be in a company which doesn't just tolerate her existance, but welcomes her. After Nehcyon's "too cool to care" and Fourteen's iron fist style of Perendi's guidance of this ragtag group of mercenaries seemed so alien. Féria knew she liked it, she also knew she would need time to feel comfortable around it.

For better or worse they met no resistance when getting to the mountains and along the numerous winding paths that led to the temple. The grey palette brought with it some sense of familiarity, it wasn't much different from the black walls with carvings if one allows their imagination to run wild. One crack looked like a dragon, another like a snake. There was a jagged sun and perhaps even some flame of ridiculous shape. The howling wind gave them a semblance of voice, filling the mountains with barely contained whispers, which ran away from the scorching rays of the midday sun.

The air was heavy when Féria took a deep breath. The further they went, the heavier and more static it got as whispers died down and even the sun seemed to divert its gaze from the crack, which was the entrance to an ancient and long-forgotten temple. Whether it was out of repulsion or fear remained unknown though. One thing was, however, very clear - the pale green light coming from the crack could not have been natural. Silence like slime oozed from the opening, daring the group to enter.

"Well, here it is," she said after consulting with the map again, though that was hardly necessary. "Let's go?"