RP:When Fun Goes Wrong

Part of the Souls Out of Time Arc

Synopsis: The Following morning the two make their way to the plains of Venturil. What was once meant to be fun, turns into something a little more sinister... They stuble upon a grotesque scene and can help but to press on further.

Dragons Head Inn

When you enter the inn you are a little overwhelmed at first by the thick smoke that comes from pipes and cigars, the smell of beer, and the loud, cheerful music from fiddles, drums, and flutes. Many dwarves are gathered here, having a great time doing what dwarves like best. Some of them sing loud songs, accompanied by the music songs about true loves gone missing, the glory and mayhem of battle, about gaining and losing lots of gold. Some songs are even about all three at once. You can spot a table where you could sit and order some meals and drinks from the owner, Giolla, and have a smoke, or maybe you just want to listen to the music. In one corner you see a rather old dwarf, but much taller then the rest. He sits by himself, quietly playing some music on his harp. You wonder how he is able to hear anything with all the noisy business surrounding you, but you notice that all dwarves treat him with respect they even lower their voices when they are near him! To your west you see another room, where some dwarves are gathered, discussing something in loud voices. There is also a staircase going up, presumably to the rooms that this inn offers for rent, and you see an exit leading northwards. Next to that staircase rests a public board, presumably for detailing the events of Upper Craughmoyle.

Raphaline makes her way through the door and down into the tavern. Given it is morning, there are few patrons in the bar so Raphaline is able to check them out and move back out on the road. She knows what could be waiting for them once they reach the western exit, so her own body begins to tingle a bit with her magic. “So,” she starts to say as she casts her gaze over her shoulder towards him, “if we end up meeting something less than kind out here on the plains, you aren’t going to do something stupid like try to keep me from the fight, right?” And given that is the usual reaction, there is a serious look in the bard’s eyes.

Eirik furrows his brows at Raphaline. Keep her from fighting? He hardly expected the bard to punch a Minotaur in the face, but who knows? "The thought never crossed my mind." Raphaline was able to heal, perhaps she could do more? "I honestly just figured that, if something happened, you would be in the background, doing whatever it is you do. Spells, or what have you." The Northman didn't think she was fragile by any means. "I just don't know what you can do. What you can handle." Eirik continued his stride, extending a hand here or there as difficulties come up in their path.

Raphaline raises a brow at the question of spells but speaks nothing more of it. Instead, with a careful ease, she makes her way through the tunnel, with every once in awhile glancing back to check and make sure Eirik is close behind her. The tunnel begins to narrow at the end, and she can see where the trail begins to move upward. The aired weather of the plains can be felt as she gets closer, and her senses begin to move to a more heightened awareness.

Eirik continues down the path following Raphaline. Not once would he question her abilities. Not even once did he worry about her abilities. He never did, nor had he ever treated her as something to be clung too. He had hoped she would see this by now. Eirik never planned on telling her what to do, unless it was a fight or flight moment and her life depended on it. The berseker had been shown the scars, told some stories. He knew she was tough. Suddenly, Eirik could sense the plains. He could smell the outside and not just the musty caverns they'd been climbing through. At this point Eirik would stop her. "We just follow this right?" A hand points to the trail they were following. "Let me go first." The lycan was the warrior of the group and beyond that, he had a keen sense of smell. He would put such things to use if she would let him. "I don't mean it in a bad way." The hand used to previously point at the trail is used to point at his nose as if to indicate his plan.

Raphaline wouldn’t question him going first. She could hear better than most humans, but she knew plenty enough about the skills of a lycan to know he would pick up on danger long before she did. So she steps aside, allowing him to move past her while she follows close behind. With the dry air now careening down the trail, the bard is quick to relieve herself of her heavier cloak, leaving her arms bare. “Follow this trail all the way up, yes. From here the trail will wind through some difficult terrain, but if we are lucky it will be uneventful.” She crossed her fingers and hoped it would be uneventful, but past experiences reminded her that that kind of wishful thinking might not turn out so well.

Eirik went to move around Raphaline and came to an abrupt stop. He realized this would be the first time she had seen this. The Lycan turns to face her in these moments, the expression on his face odd. He was reading her, gauging her reaction to what she was about to witness. "Don't be afraid." These are his only words as Eirik closes his eyes. In the breath of an instant, Eirik dons an intense look of concentration. Within his minds eye, rage begins to encirlce. Putting him into a trance. Breath gets heavy, not only visible by the rise and fall of his chest, but by the loud puffs of air he was releasing. The Berkers rage allowed for Eirik to tap into the wolf, without shifting. It was a small edge over the average and allowed the Northman a better focus. When eyes open, the Emerald bard would not see those silver eyes she had grown accustomed to. Instead, the yellow eyes of the wolf would stare back at her. No word is given, Eiriks head tilts, that inner hunger begging to be released. However, the Rosfjorian native was in control. Mostly. No words are uttered, no syllables break the shroud of silence between the two. Well calculated steps, that of a confident outdoorsman move him up the narrow walk way. Nose literally sniffing out the danger, should there be any. A hand idly ushers Raphaline up, if she would indeed follow, but those hungry yellow eyes do not look back to see if she does. His demeanor is different. Eirik might seem ready to explode. To smash anything he might find breaking his concentration. Finally, the Lycan would step out into day light. There was nothing around for miles. "It's safe." His voice would call out.

Raphaline feels her skin begin to crawl just a little at the sight of those yellows eyes, but she quickly gains control over her nerves. In her own mind she has to keep reminding herself that he isn’t like other lycans, in particular the one who stalked and attacked her. To outwardly show her faith in him, she follows up, staying close to the northman as her eyes begin to adjust to the sudden blaze of sunlight. With everything being wide apart, and trees less frequent, the heat begins to cause her bare skin to chafe against the harsh winds. At the mention of safe, she swings her gaze in every direction, assessing for herself the landscape before deciding to turn her gaze once more to him. “We are going to go west only a bit more before turning south. I want to avoid the desolate lands as best as we can.” She knew what kind of creatures that lived out there, and surely, she didn’t want to have to tap into all of her magic right away. With a sense of the area, she moves forward, walking over the cracked, desert land before heading south, following what she could see of the mountain range in the distance.

Eiriks gaze stays upon the horizon as she spoke. He knew she was uncomfortable. He could smell it, like fear. Like any other emotion. It carried its own distinctive scent. The Lycan does not push this. It's new for her, and him. Instead he keeps a small distance between them, staying ahead of her, so that he was visible at all times. Perhaps she would find some small comfort in that fact. That nose continues to be put to the ground, essentially spotting for the two. Not a thing would get passed him, unless he happened to be neglectfull. Ears practically twitch at sounds, head moves from one spot to another, tracking. "How far south?" His words faster, full of an uncontrollable edge. Plainly speaking, the wolf of the north was speaking through him. Eirik was satisfied with his scenting and comes to a halt. Eyes close again. The song of his people playing through his head. Thoughts of Raphaline, who he found to be more ammunition for control, also run through his mind. In only a few moments, the wolf is swallowed, eyes return to normal. "We should be okay for a while longer." He adds voice back to the one she had grown accustomed too.

Raphaline keeps her gaze south as she catches the return of his voice. Something within her sighs a bit with relief just before she speaks. “Just a bit more south, then we will turn westward across a causeway. It isn’t the quickest route, but safe to keep away from the wildlands, and even more so from the desert regions of Venturil.” She didn’t want to think about those dark, shadowy creatures that seem to haunt the region from time to time. With the sun beating down on them as such, she hopes the light might keep them away long enough to reach the mists and then the city itself. From here though, she cannot hear the bustle of the coast line or smell the salt water of the ocean. How long had it been since she had enjoyed the swirling waters of a beach? She presses forward, eyes dancing over each detail before she sweeps once more towards the west.

Eirik didn't mind the walk and his leg wasn't bothering him in the slightest. No doubt a testament to the strength of the emerald eyed bard. A smile pulls at the corner of his lips. "How long has it been since you've been here?" The lycan of course, had no idea about the creatures of Venturil. Either way it would make little difference anyway. Eirik would explore regardless of threat or sense of danger. He would back down from nothing. He doesn't let up on his natural senses; those enhanced by his wolven curse. Silver eyes stare off into the distance, watching the horizon.

Raphaline keeps powering forward, moving a bit more west as she considers his question. "Two, maybe three years now? I wouldn’t be surprised if there were changes to the city I was unaware of, they are kind of remote and away from quite a few of the other regions.” Not to mention the land separating them from the Xalious mountains is kind of notorious for its danger. “It has a beautiful coastline though. The beach is far cleaner there than it is in Cenril, and less filled with possible ruffians trying to mug you.” And the slippery eel tavern, now there was a place she hadn’t seen in forever.

Eirik continued his march-like stride along side Raphaline. He tried his best to imagine a clean coastline, but all that he could summon forth is an image of an icy, snow ridden beach from his desolate homeland. In truth Eirik had never even set eyes on a beach. That would be new for him as well. As for Cenril, Eirik had heard of it, but never visited. Generally the Lycan was found in Frostmaw, Kelay or Larket. Since his arrival here, this had been his longest journey away. "Tell me a little about Chartsend. It's history if you know it." She was a bard, she probably knew -tons-.

Raphaline had to think about it for a bit, what did she know about the place. “It used to be run by an elder elven woman when I first got here. They’ve got a lot of sea trade, there is a spa of some sort and their military is pretty decent.” It would work better if she could point out the regions. Then, she remembers the temple and the market. “They have a very diverse market region with goods from not only this land but lands from far away as well. If there is a city with knowledge of people from other places, it will be there.”

Eirik did not expect to hear that. Trade from other lands? The Lycans eyes practically light up. "What about their naval fleet?" They had to be good if they were trading with other lands. It looked like this place was remote, travelling here by horse or caravan would be a nightmare. They had to receive most of their goods via boat. Well, at least thats what the berserker thought. An elder elven woman ran Chartsend? He was interested in its history, how it was founded. Why was it founded? Their military might wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts. Were they wealthy? Those same strides carry the man still, eyes spotting the horizon looking for any sign of danger.

Raphaline shrugs, she didn’t really know too much about the naval fleet either. “I am more familiar with their trade, mostly because when I first came to these lands I stayed far away from any sort of political intrigue.” And now, it seems like she is jumping in with both feet. Had she moved so far from her wandering roots that she was finally allowing a place to become more like a home to protect than she had originally planned? Possibly. She sighs, eyes moving westward as she can feel the cool of the mist coming upon them.

The Great Plains

The yellow hills slowly give way to green grass as the temperature drops to a more comfortable level and a tiny stream flowing down from a very distant northern mountain allows life to spring up here. Tall trees provide shade in some places but for the most part the area is made up of rolling hills as if whatever once filled this great expanse was removed in times past and only the grass has since been allowed to grow back.

The two would presumably make their way through the mists without much hinderance and finally find the great plains. The place Eirik had thought to visit. This was his first reason for coming here. Long strides carry the man forward more, whether Raphaline followed him or not. Though for a little while Eirik drops his gaurd entirely. "The Gunlaug would love this place," he mutters to himself mostly. The lycan had never spoke of this other tribe before, but they were close allies. People he had come to respect through the fight against Illisaria. "Thank you for bringing me here." Silver eyes still off in the distance. Eventually the Northman would take a big inhale of air through his nostrils. Suddenly his face scrunches up. "What's that?" Feet again move the man forward without any further explanation. His features carry a dark and ominous emotion. Is that blood? He finally stops and kneels, free hand moving to touch the scabby pool before him. In the distance a carcass can be seen, pulled apart and set on display. If Raphaline was gifted in magic, she might take note of some dark sorcery that was perhaps used. Necromancy. Not far from the body lies a trail, though a few days old, that still carried the strong scent of blood. What the hell happened here? Around the scene lies more evidence of something overwhelming. Undead. A limb or two from a rotting carcass lies scattered about. The most disturbing thing to be discovered perhaps, is the sight of a toy, carrying a little blood itself.

Raphaline wanted to hold onto the moment where she got to see his features soften as such, but as soon as she stepped into the area she could feel the blistering decay of magic. Necromancy always gave her the chilliest of sensations, and he skin prickles as she gazes about at the horrendous scene. Her own magic, magic of life begins to stir uncomfortably as she makes a dare to walk forward. She kneels down, fingertips touching the bloodied toy for only a second to gauge the level of intensity that might be possessed of this scene. The hand that touches the toy feel a shot of pain surge up her arm and she reels back, bringing her arm in close to her chest as she tries to stand again. “Necromancy,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she turns to Eirik.

Eirik shakes his head in disgust. Not because he never had the priveledge of seeing a corpse, but rather because what her words indicated. Not that the events were related in any way, but the guild just dealt with a lot of undead while fighting the Saurian Alpha. Jaw clenches tightly. Eirik was irratated. Why did bad things always come to the innocent. "You okay?" He checked in. A cursory glance is given while waiting for a response, but gaze returns to the scene. That toy might seem off to Raphaline. Might seem out of place. The whole scene made no sense. It was a damn shame they hadn't arrived earlier. Perhaps things could have been different. Eirik doesn't say another word and instead stands and moving further on. "The trail leads this way." He couldn't do anything for the departed here, but he damn well was sure that he would find out what happened. The man wasn't sure if she would follow, but Eirik was engaged in something else now. A few more steps and a bloodied sword could be seen off to his right. They had defended themselves or tried too. He doesn't stop, another twenty yards and they would come across another carcass. A male, splayed out in a simalar scene; belly ripped open and emptied. Eirik was getting worried. Clutched in the mans hand is a simplistic handkerchief with the word 'daddy' stitched into it. The quality of the stitching terrible, indicating that it was made by a child.

Raphaline does follow him, because she wanted to know what had done this. Her senses are overwhelmed by the sudden display of the rest of those who had been involved in the horrendous event. She places a hand over her mouth as a sharp intake of breath convenes her feelings about what she is looking at now. Once they get past the corpse, she draws her hand back down, clenched at her side as her own magic really begins to sing. Whoever thought that something like this was right, would be set straight by the now angry woman. “Then, let’s find this bastard,” she says between clenched teeth as she pushes forward, becoming fleet footed and determined. The notes, the primordial tongue, it is on her lips as she feels the earth beneath her begin to grumble, waiting for the call to spring forth.

Eirik scoffed. Gods be damned. Whoever did this would be found. Silver eyes flick to the angered Bard and without hesitation, Eirik nods. "I'll follow the trail." Brann Forbruker is drawn, the sound of metal drawing upon metal ringing in the air. It was a simplistic looking weapon, only runes carved up the center, but it was far from ordinary. The name Brann Forbruker itself comes from his own language and means fire eater. If they were facing undead, he was at least equipped for it. "Stay close." The Lycan was quick to go to work, following the scent that he could pick up still. The problem, however, springs to life when he comes to a dead end. "Damnit," he hissed furiously. Where the hell did they go? Silver eyes scan the trail he had followed looking for another sign. Much to his dismay, the scent came to an abrupt end. Following it again would only lead them back to the scene. However, Raphaline might be able to sense foul magics nearby. If she does, her gaze might fall eastward to notice an opening, dug into the ground. Inside the opening, an orange glow permeates and illuminates a stone staircase heading downwards into a hallway filled the scent of death. No sounds can be heard within. No moans of the undead. No magic to further tease her mind. Eirik is clearly unaware of this.

Raphaline did feel the magic, even as the lycan could not smell the death in the air. Her entire body was a buzz with both her own magic now at the ready paired with the disgust surging through her at the depth of necromancy. There is a sharp look to her features as she turns to the opening, her right hand raised before her to gesture towards the stairs spiraling downward. “Come on.” She calls without looking over her shoulder to check if he were close by. Instead, with each step, she picks up her speed, the scent of death encroaching on her to the point that only her mind seems to be free of the grizzly grip. What had done something like this? As she rounds a sharp corner, her left hand reaches out to brace against the wall and allow her senses to take hold. If the material of this region below is made from stone, she can sense through the stone what kind of magic and how much is being used. Her green eyes flicker closed to cut off her sight, and allow the magic within her to twine like golden threads over her fingers before seeping into the section of wall she is touching. Like tendrils, these gold threads move through the molecules of the earth, touching like a whisper to greet and learn what the earth itself knows of this place. Once she retrieves the information, she can make her next decision and move.

Raphaline's magics might indeed tell her a great many things. They would speak of the horrors that happened within. The death that took place deeper in. The innocents who they would slaughter ritualistically here. The children they tried to take and strip souls from. The earth might also speak of the transfer of spirit that they were trying to perform. Desperately trying to place another soul into one of the children. It would also tell Raphaline there was more than one, a few; the duo seemed to have stumbled upon some cult. One, their leader, is quite powerful. But beyond that, as per the ritual itself cannot be mentioned. Raphaline might also pick up on magical wards; barriers put in place for protection.

Eirik follows Raphaline in pursuit and when she stops to call upon her power, the Northman does not. He steps in, carefully moving down the stairs to get a better view. He wanted to vomit. How did he miss this smell? The hallway itself has 3 doors all on the right side, before another staircase comes into view. Perhaps if Eirik is not careful, he might stumble upon one of the traps laid out for the unsuspecting traveler.

Raphaline did not want to just let something like this to stand, so she nods towards the door they can hear the voices coming from. Her own satchel is cast aside with her cloak as she stands at her full height, hands once more tingling with magic. "Get the girl, I will make sure that these stones walls will come crumbling down on top of these fiends." The bard moves so she is at the base of the stairs, one of her hands bracing against the stone wall.

Eirik nods to Raphaline, fully aware that they needed to move quickly. The Lycan thought about her plan. If there happened to be a few how in the hell would he get through them all... Alone? Ordinarily, stealth is not the big guys fortay, but for now he would have to make do. With his sword, Brann Forbruker in hand he marches down the stairs, where the noise can be heard. Upon reaching the corner the Northman peaks around it. Sure as shit, two robed individuals stood nearby, backs towards him. The girl who had been dragged off was nowhere to be found. Besides the room the two dark spell casters stood in there was another hallway; the moaning sounds of undead can be heard from there. This was going to get tough. Eirik wished Raphaline would join him, but she seemed pretty determined. Eirik concentrates for a moment, rage building in his minds eye. The thought of the grotesque scene only further aids the man. And like so many times before, eyes shift to a hungry yellow; the wolf was upon him and Eirik is walking a fine line between mortality and the shift. Just like the shifting of his eyes, the outsider was off. The weapon mentioned before does not spring to life as Eirik leaps into the air. If they didn't know the dup was there, they certainly did now. It was too late for these two, however. The blade grows a searing white, and dies out dramtically. For anyone not aware of what Eirik was doing they might think his weapon defective. This is not the case. In a heart beat of time, the blade slams into the ground between the two spell casters "Ignite!" he bellows. Much like the fiery maw of a dragons breath attack, the two suddenly find themselves in an explosion of fire. A wave of veritable flames washes over the two, nearly turning both to ash. Silver eyes flick to the other hallway looking for doors. Where would this child have bee taken too? The dead casters aren't even given a second glance.

Raphaline senses the utter death that permeates from this place, so much so she has to take a step back and keep herself from gagging on the stench of it. The hideous magic that has corrupted the souls and the children here turns the bard towards darker thoughts involving those who would dare to toss away life so readily. As she withdraws her conscious thought from her magic, that is when she spots the northman making his way forward and she calls out, “Be careful. This place has a lot of wards on it. There might be spells that could either launch a physical attack upon us, or magical.” She crouches down low on the stairs, her bare hands pressing against the stone to better feel out where the magic might be entrenched. If she can find specific places along the floor and stairs where the magic might have been carved in, she lightly hums under her breath, willing the stone to crack just enough that it might break a few of the wards.

Upon further inspection, no traps would be found on the stone staircase or in the hallway. Though something seemed off. This place was too clean for the smell the duo were confronted with. Noted by the lack of bodies found or the cobwebs that weren't hanging from the ceiling. It was like this place had been scrubbed clean, all that was left is the smell. The three doors inside the hallway are locked, thick wooden doors. Eirik could probably break them down, but that would cause a scene. "Okay. I'll try to be careful." Getting closer to the staircase, Eiriks and Raphalines ears might pick up on the faintest echo of hurried voices. "Useless brat!" The voice hissed. "Add her to the pile." Eirik would turn to Raphaline to see what she thought would be a good plan. "Useless just like her parents." That voice is snake like, nearly spitting venom as it spoke. Eirik pulls his backpack off, prepping himself for what he believed would be a long fight.

Raphaline waits with her hand pressed against the stone ready to fell the stone around the men if need be. When she doesn’t see a child but the casters are cleared away by his attack, she makes her way down and through the door. The magic here permeates from every corner of the room, entrenching her in a nauseating feeling. Her emerald gaze turns towards the other hallway, looking for another door way. Rather than go swinging through it, she presses her hand to the stone once more and takes in a deep breath. This time when she extends the tendrils of magic into the stone, she is reaching through them for a sign of pure life. If they come across any other dark beings, it registers back to her as a dark pit, while if the child is still alive, it will feel like a small flicker of light. Once she has an idea of direction, she nods towards it, withdrawing her hand and flexing the fingers for a second before saying, “Come on. I can still feel her.”

The childs light, is nearly extinguished though it isn't far. Only a few doors down. What's disturbing is the presence of undead, who seem to be scurrying through the hallway towards them. It's not one, or ten, but fifteen. Their panicked moaning the first indicator for Eirik. Raphaline would also sense a trap on the floor about halfway down the hallway. The pitter patter of foot steps has the berserker looking back to Raphaline. "I hope you know what your doing." Eirik jumps out into the narrow hallway, he was going to stem the tied of the horde now coming at them. It happened in an instant, the first zombie triggered the trap and a magical explosion of dark energy ensued. The force rocking Eirik back, and throwing him on his rear end. A painful exhale of air might be heard from the Lycan as he climbs to his feet in a hurry. Nine members of the horde remain, and Eirik has only the chance to swipe at one, separating its head from body. Something needed to be done quick or they would just be simply overrun.

All she needed was that explosion and a sudden appearance of fire to know exactly how she wanted to handle these undead creatures. Now she is angry beyond comparison, and it shows in what normally is kind, green eyes gone fierce. She raises both hands before her as she allows another note, primordial as well in sound, but this time it creates a sound that would chill the skin and make you feel as if you are caught in a wildfire. With just a small spark, she can cause the fire to expand outward in a roaring blaze before it surges forward to consume all in its path. It burns, hot like her rage as she allows that note to echo across the chambers and announce her presence there. Once the fire subsides to just flames licking at both carcasses and walls, there won’t be too much left in its wake.

Eirik went to swipe at another creature, but it was gone in an instant as Raphalines spell burst forward. The blade finds nothing but air, eyes narrow. Who the hell was this bard? The runic weapon is yanked back into control, and Eirik presses on without another word, opening a series of doors until a child is found. She couldn't have been more that eight. She laid there, bruised and battered; beaten and in chains. Two more sat beside her, but already lifeless. This is the light that Raphaline had seen. The only light. She drew slow ragged breaths, desperatly fighting to hold on to what little life she had left. Visible streaks of tears running down her face. This girl had been through an ordeal. Eirik nearly curses as he sees her, his blade brought up to bear, and smashes into the chains on the wall. Those metallic binds fall to the floor, she was free to go. Eirik's jaw clenches hard and gaze moves to Raphaline. "Can you help her?"

Raphaline didn’t have to be asked twice. As soon as the girl was within her sights, she moves to kneel down beside her and places a hand against her chest. Just from touch alone she could hear the heartbeat beginning to fade away. “I will try,” she says through gritted teeth as she takes in another deep breath. Stilling the anger within her, she reaches for the recesses of light within her magic and slowly begins to pull on it and pour it into the child slowly. She directs the magic first into the very life force of the child with a song of hope on her lips. It is elvish in its language and it is meant to caress the soul into reacting and coming back to this world once more. If her light begins to flicker a bit more brightly, the bard will switch her song to that of healing, calling for the body to repair the wounds dealt to it in whatever manner. While she lets her magic seep in, she braces the girl carefully against her thigh, allowing her a place to rest while the healing takes affect.

Eirik watches the bard go to work, but this wasn't over yet. As for the girl, Raphaline might have found this a bit of a struggle. After a few moments, her light does indeed begin to flicker, growing brighter. She was a fighter still clinging to hope of some kind. She refused to go under. Eirik shifts on foot heading back to the door mind intent on picking up any signs of more. Lycan ears do pick up on a disturbance, but then again so might Raphaline. The very walls begin to tremble, though this is no earthquake. Its' source magical in nature and wrought with anger. Suddenly a voice envelopes the room, the hallway. It probably filled the entire complex. "And who are you to play with my toys?" The room would suddenly grow quiet. The temperature begins to shift, growing cold. Raphaline might know that its intent was to sap the strength from their bodies, but would take some time to work. "You'll be mine soon." That same voice spilling out into the complex again. Hungry eyes turn to Raphaline, she didn't have the time. She could either escape with the girl to heal her or stay and fight. Brann Forbruker is sheathed, he would buy them time. The aforementioned weapon is pulled and placed on the ground next to Raphaline. "As soon as you can, you take that blade and run with her." He doesn't wait for any further response. That girl is what mattered. The footsteps of the lycan now spoke ominously. Hands move to unclasp armor as he moved down the hallway. Each piece that hits the ground is a dramatic foretelling of what is coming. The wolf was hungry. If Raphaline were to yell, her words would fall on deaf ears. Eirik marched into the unknown, planning to shift and massacre everything in the complex. He had to trust Raphaline to get the girl out. "Don't you dare come back." His voice hollow, hinting at that change which was upon him. Before long Eirik has disappeared from sight.

Raphaline pulls the girl in closer to her as the chill sets into the atmosphere of the room. She did not need to be told twice about what was important in this moment. Scooping up the child with her left arm, she steadies her on her hip while her right hand takes a hold of the hilt of the sword. Somewhere among those sharp, serious looks exchanged, her gaze tells him he had better come back to her. When he takes off in one direction after whatever it is that called out to them. She heads back towards the original way they had come in, her feet carrying both her and the child quickly across stone floor towards the stairs spiraling upward. Readjusting the child, she takes a tighter hold of the sword steadying her foot on the first step and then the next, leaping forward with unnatural speed. With adrenaline pumping in her veins, her body moves without thought until she comes up for clean air in the aired region of the western plains once more. Free of the shrine and the decay, the bard finds herself dropping to her knees, careful to lay the child down onto the ground. Her breath comes in gasps as her heart pounds in her ears. The magic in her body is still tingling, ready for anything that might come back after them.

The two who had just escaped would only be confronted by the sounds of something wild. A distant echo. The bloodcurdling screams of the cursed. The howls of a lycan gone mad with rage. The sounds themselves seem to echo up through the corridors and is far away. Eirik is indeed filled with a lust; deep instinctual rage. Whoever lied within the complex would find nothing but his wrath. The girl seemed to be okay, for now. However, something new developes. Magic stings the air again, though its intent is not hostile. A stone slab falls suddenly, their entrance becomes sealed. Somewhere deep within the complex, another trap had been set off. Its' response was to lock the Lycan inside. Inside the cage of death...

Somewhere Deep Within the Complex

"Bring him here," she hissed voice mixed with two distinct tones. It was every bit as terrifying as it was creepy, to watch the little girl in a red dress sound so sinister. One voice, deep and bestial. The second tone, which spoke parelell to the first, that of a little child. Despite the obvious marring of sickly pale skin, the child eyes seemed emty, hollow. Completely void of any humanity. She danced, and twirled in that little red dress like nothing she had ever done could keep her down. Eirik, no longer in the form of a wolf, is brought before her, completely unconscious. "What to do you plan to do with him?" The hooded acolyte asks.

"Oh me?" If anything could be considered foul, it is certainly her reaction now. The child grinned, practically from one ear to the other. Something dark and forboding lurked visibly beneath the skin, writhing in some twisted pleasure. "Well now," that creepy voice is still sustained. "How about this?" Both hands raise as she starts summoning power from everything around her. At first it was a mystery. No visible sign of magic even weaved in the room. And then it happened. Each acolyte screamed in some semblance of pain, nearly tearing their own eyes out and eventually croak from this. In this act, she allows three to live, Eirik, her second in command and herself. A sudden 'crack' would thunder through the room; everything darkens. Moans of the undead could be heard, but this is not her purpose. "I'll mark him. Drive him mad. See how long he can fight off that rage."

In the heartbeat of a moment, the spell is weaved, Eiriks arm marked with some unknown magic. He screams in pain, the child noticeably grins and begins to trot away. Her second follows in pursuit, giving the lycan a weary eye before summoning his own magic to shut another rock wall. They were now seperated from the outside world. It was time to rebuild and Eirik is simply left to his own accord...