For a long moment he stood at the head of the road leading to the Scathachian Sanctuary, merely looking at the quiet building. He remembered when the sisterhood had started building it, and how quickly it had become a focal point of those in need. He chuckled softly as he considered the idea that the hand of fate had picked the site to offset the darkness that seemed to hang over the realm.

Which led to the next question: Why offer them aid? He was everything the sisterhood professed to oppose. Even from here he could feel the wards surrounding the Sanctuary, layers of spells and charms designed to keep out those of infernal or dark origin. It was like an annoying itch running down his spine, only to grow as he moved down the path. The Beast within both recoiled and railed at the touch of holy power. Power he himself had wielded, upon a time.

Why' One did not question the will of Chaos. One merely rode the crest of its flow, or was swept away in the torrent. And Chaos moved him now, as he neared the gate. Teeth gritted against the building headache of resisting the wards as he reached their edge, a leather-clad hand rose to grasp the gate's knocker and bang it hard against its plate. He then happily stepped back from the gate, as any distance helped ease the strain.

(Authors note: This is a continuation of A New Guard, found in the Gharnholme folder)

While he waited, arms folded over the ebon plate he favored, thoughts turned to other matters. It was a way to push down the headache building inside, as well as a subconcious brake on the coiled Beast. Such was the effect of the wards.

The soft creak of well-oiled hinges dragged him away from his musings, the steel-grey gaze snapping toward the gate as it slowly opened. The sight of such a young face framed by chestnut locks, was a momentary surprise. He had not known any so young served the Sisterhood. But, as he mentally chided himself, what do you really know of these people?

Their interests and mine lie in the same direction, he immediately answered his own question as he took stock of the young woman. The dress and sash, as well as the slung bow, were immediately noted, though the bare feet did have an eyebrow rising slightly. And though her smile was not quite returned, he did nod slowly in greeting, the heavy cloak swaying slightly with his movements.

"Greetings, milady. I was hoping to meet with one of the leaders of your temple, if they were about." The voice, as always, soft as it rumbled from under the drawn hood. "I am Lucius DeAuster, from Shadowhold Manor, just down the road." The last was added, as she was unknown to him, and he had no idea if she was familiar with the North Road Community.

"Judge..." A title, to be mused over at a later date. But, back to the matter at hand. There would be time later to delve deeper. A hand rose, pulling back the hood for the moment, an effort to be polite. After all, people did want to see the face of those they had dealings with.

"If you speak for the temple and your order, then that will be sufficient." He paused slightly, arms folded again now. To be honest, he would have felt more comfortabl dealing with one he knew, but one did not always get what they want.

"The recent deaths in the area has understandably upset many who live nearby, so I have organized a patrol of the neighborhood." Again, a slight pause, before he continued to speak. "It is a way to calm people down, as well as a hope that it might deter the killer from striking here again."

His gaze moved to the Sanctuary for a second, then back to Janet. "I do not wish to intrude on your order's privacy, so for now I have my people staying back from your compound. However, should you wish, I can have them add a leg around the temple."

"That would be acceptable." He nodded slowly to the young woman as he spoke, his gaze shifting a second to glance around the area. An old habit picked up on fields far from RhyDin.

"My people are easy enough to identify. They are the group of five wearing black plate mail." The woman did have a point, after all. "I have confined thier movements here, so as not to come into conflict with the guards of the city."

And, though this remained unspoken, There's no need to risk a onfrontation with the patrolling sisters.

Nearly three-quarters of an hour had passed before a nearly frozen Illea returned to the Sanctuary. Standing in the warm kitchen (a pot of soup had been simmering all day on the fire, courtesy of the Swedish Chef, Mr. Ravenlock), she began to unravel her cloak, scarves and cowl. The garments, quite cold to the touch were then heaped upon the back of a chair before the fire.

She had been out most of the night and had spent the better part of the last seven hours nursing two broken ribs and a gash on her upper left thigh (courtesy of drunken would-be rapist in the WestEnd). The gash she had already hastily sewn shut, but she would have to do a better job of it now that she was home.

Jewell had been asking about her injuries when Isuelt stopped by the Inn on her way home. The Judge had downplayed them, but now, in the quiet of the Scathachian Stronghold, she let her guard down and sank gently into the chair to more closely examine the rent in her leather pants and the torn flesh beneath.

Isuelt's bare hands were propping her upper body weight on her knees. Her expression was a mixture of cynicism and surprise.

"DeAuster" Lucius DeAuster?" She was at a loss for more words at the moment.

True, she knew who he was, she had seen him in the Inn. Hell, she had even had a conversation or two with him, albeit mostly small talk rather than anything with depth. And neighbor, though he was, she could have sworn that the information about him which circulated the town was that Lucius DeAuster wasn't the "do-gooder" type.

Isuelt immediately began speculating as to what his angle might be...

Slowly she straightened up against the chair, feeling the heat of the hearth on her back and looked to Janet. "Our decision in a few hours, huh' Well Mari, tell me...did you any sort of vibe off of him?" It was a shot in the dark, Isuelt knew. Still, first impressions sometimes were everything.

Slowly Isuelt nodded as Janet spoke and answered her questions. It wasn't until the last question of Janet's, however, that Isuelt offered another opinion.

With a sigh, she looked down at her bare hands, fingers running over the scarred remnants of the Scales of Justice tattoo. "It's just that....there are so many people coming out of the woodwork to help. And, while I want to believe that they all truly do want to help, I...I just can't in good conscience accept it. At least, not in a city like this one," she was almost disgusted by her own pessimism. Yet it was her pessimistic side that doubted and mistrusted and succeeded in keeping her alive. Isuelt had not always been slow to trust, but the circumstances of her life dictated that she harden her heart if she wished to survive past puberty.

Isuelt looked up at Janet, coming to a conclusion, "I think we should trust him about as much as we trust the others who are offering aid. Take the help, say thank you, but watch our backs even closer." Then, thinking on something that had been floating around in her head for the better part of a few weeks, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, yeah' We just have to wait to see who is who."

Her wait would not be a long one. Shadowhold was guarded, and it was only a few moments in passing when one passed by the gate, following one of the paths winding through the extensive gardens. Even at this time of year, greenery spotted the yards in front of the manor, hardy bushes brought from the Dawnsbreak Mountains of Carowyn. Snow clung to the ground under some, resisting the slight warming trend, as the winds carried the hint of more winter storms in the air.

Moving to a smaller door inset within the larger gate, the guard stepped outside the walls, regarding the young woman. Behind him, another guard appeared on the circular driveway leading to the porch, pausing only second before turning to head toward the manorhouse. Word of Janet's arrival was quickly being passed along as she was being greeted.

"Can I help you, miss?" The words were gruff, carrying the accent of the highlands, yet toned so as not to be offensive. At least, as unoffensive as a heavily armed and armored tattoo'ed barbarian could be.

The Northras nodded once, half-turning to gesture toward the open gate, passage through the wards surrounding the manse. "This way, miss." Once within, the gate would be closed, before he turned to guide her down the driveway toward the mansion. The only sound was the soft clink of armor meshing with the crunching of gravel under thier feet, and the lone cry of a hawk, taking advantage of the last part of the day before returning to roost.

The front breezeway was empty, the furniture having been stored for the winter, and only the guard at the door broke the cast of white marble and mortar. as Janet and her escort approached he turned to open the door, allowing them entry into the well-appointed greeting hall. Here, warmth radiated from a cheerily-burning fire, casting a soft glow around the mahogany walls and furniture.

As the door closed, the guard taking position near it, another man stepped from a side door. Dressed in the contemporary uniform of a man-servant, he half-bowed to Janet where she stood. "Greetings, and welcome to Shadowhold Manor."

Straightening again, his hands folded in front of him, a casual repose. "Lord DeAuster told us to expect a member of the temple to come by." His gaze darted to her hands, and the tattoo's there. "He asked me to tell you that he will be with you in just a moment." As he spoke the man-servant gestured to a chair set near the fire. "Would you care for a drink while you wait, milady?"

The butler, Karl, half-bowed, quickly sending another of the staff to pour and bring Janet the water she had requested. In the meantime he left the greeting hall, moviing down a side hall to Lucius's study, entering after knockign once and pausing a heartbeat. "Your guest has arrived, sir."

Lucius glanced around toward the butler and nodded once, dismissing him without a word. He glanced to the waterclock set on the mantle of his study, and quietly chuckled to himself. "True to her word."

Finishing the report he had been reading the chaos lord stood and donned a dress coat over the plain tunic. Working on the buttons as he headed for the front hall, he paused to look over to Karl who was waiting outside the door. "Has she ben made comfortable?"

"Aye, milord. She has been given refreshments, and waits for you near the hearth."

"Excellent." Clasping the butler on the shoulder, he moved into the hall, the guards within bringing an arm up across thier chest in salute as he entered. His eyes immediately found Janet where she sat, and he walked over to stop near her chair. "Greetings, milady. I hope you didn't have to wait long?"