?Viktor f you don?t stop this I?m going home!? The way her voice carried in the quiet cemetery didn?t help melt the ice within Mary?s fluttering stomach. She scratched nervously at the small scrapes on her arms from passing through those damnable rose bushes. She?d have to blame them on the neighbors? cat?again.

As the silence spanned after her ultimatum the idea that perhaps Viktor had done this on purpose and just gone home to mess with her became confirmed. Why he?d do it she didn?t know. Boys were only half-intelligent at the best of times anyway.

?Oooh! I?m so mad right now, there?s no words,? A petulant stamp of her foot for emphasis before looking around at where she?d wound up. ?now to figure out where the hell I am.?

Muttering more as either a means to ease her fears or vent frustrations at Viktor?s childishness she looked up trying to find bearings. ?Dad always said Arabrab will be to your aft?.I?m not at sea though?that?s useless. Thanks for nothing?? Taking a chance she started heading to her right. ?Find a wall, find a gate.? Arms brought around her to stave off the chill of night air careful steps turn into a determined lope.

?Find a wall, find a gate.? The words repeated so many times it was literally a mantra at this point as she stepped over a low stone wall to cut behind a length of mausoleums in the older section of the cemetery.

??m?mary?.?

Nearly leaping from her skin, Mary swivels her head around at the sudden ghostly utterance of her name. Eyes wide to the point of showing each shaken vein, they sought the source of the voice. ?Viktor?.if you?re trying to scare me, its working.? Prick. She added mentally as an after thought.

?Real peace of work Viktor?? With the shock wearing off she went back to fuming. No longer loping, Mary was full into her anger now. The air around her thick with a pissed-mist that was palpable should any cross her path.

??m?m?mary??

?I?m not falling for it Viktor! You can take the bad acting and stick it.? Huffing she walked a touch faster, thinking she heard steps from behind. ?You?re real scary..jerkface.?

Rounding a corner Mary stopped to look at one of the crypts when a strange crunching sound came from within. Aging wood splintered where something had burst outward. Debris from the remains of the door lay scattered across the entry steps. The instinct to run vibrated heavily in the back of her head, yet something told her she needed to put her fears at the sound to rest. Swallowing hard she moved up the stairs and disappears inside.

Catacombs beneath Rhy?din

Depthless eyes look around in seething fury at a room filled with shattered stone, silver, and steel. From each defiled effigy to the next, the lone figure moved with only the fae jingling sound of silver spurs for comfort. His fractured mind slowly pieced together what brought this disaster to his doorstep. From the corner of his eye comes a slithering movement too sluggish to be what he?d kept in this vault.

Viper strides bring him rounding on the source of motion, finding a remnant of what had once been a daring creation. Eyes of pure malice gleam up at the Singer of Songs from sockets the shade of dried papyrus. Spine severed, its hands of bone barely pull it along the floor trying to flee.

Calm, and deliberate, he reaches down to jerk the abomination up by the back its head. Thin-lipped but still seething he watches its jaws snap feebly against the restraining force of his hand. ?You will explain everything?..? With strength far beyond his lean build, Cain parts the red see of his palm and lets the waters of un-life flow across the revenants? lips, pushing the anger and hunger back.

As the revenant thrashes against his hold to succor, Cain?s eyes land on a faint wet spot towards the middle of his secret vault and narrow. Focusing on the spot his sense of smell pushes through violence and blood to pick up something subtler. ?She was here?..?

Turning back to his creation Cain rips into its rejuvenated neck. Teeth rend and pull, forcing weak powers of healing to fail as blood and broken memories flood into his mind. Flashes of light allow glimpses of the wretch?s life leading up to the box, the chains?.then the unending hunger and consuming madness. Further the Singer of Songs pushes beyond the box to the sudden display of light amid a sea of red hunger. Broken though the memories were, enough images displayed what he needed to know.

Snarling in disgust he threw the revenant into the wall with a sickening wet slap. Hands lift to wipe the blood from his mouth as spurred boots retreat the way they?d come. He had some hunting of his own to do. Not once did he stop to consider what may come from letting these things run un-tethered. Nor did the self-made Master stop to consider there were fifty in all.

(to be continued)

"You are den mother whether you wish it or not," lilting mirth ripples from her lips as Maerlyna pulled Myra into a rib cracking hug.

Surprise, soon gave way to a teasing pinch as Myra shook her head at the antics of their youngest sister. "Someone has to, don't you think?"

"True, since Cain took his rest there?s been a lack of control in all of us. You think there?s a trade off then?? with the lightest brush of cupid?s bow lips, Maerlyna let her arms fall from Myra reluctantly. Lightly smoothing down the sides of her corseted top, she looked to the ajar door to their master?s chambers.

Unable to take the evident longing look cast to Cain?s door, Myra put her hand on her sister?s shoulder with a soft squeeze. ?He?ll wake when it?s time. Why not go lay with him and offer a gift of lullaby through the veil of death.?

?Yep, you?re Den Mother Myra.? Giggling gently, Maerlyna hugged her sister again before slipping off towards Cain?s chambers to do just as suggested.

?I truly hope he awakens soon, ? as fun as the girls are, some things just call for a man?s touch. Myra finished in her head before looking about the kitchen. ?Mushrooms?need to get mushrooms.? Really should have remembered to get those earlier. Grumbling she took a bucket from near the refuse dump and set it below the head of their tanked orc. Cleaver in hand, one swing set their dinner broth flowing before she turned and took up her peacoat. ?Heading to the Market, be back later!? She called to let her voice echo through their corner of the ?Combs?.

Like a specter she drifted through the dark corridors to stop below a grate somewhere close to Plaza De Troyes. Eyes scan around briefly before her corporeal body fell away to a light fog of the faintest green. Spiraling up through the pry holes in the sealed man-hole her consciousness filled the fog and looked down upon it all at once. Drifting quietly her essence slipped free of the underground and traversed the pavement to slip into the mouth of a narrow mouthed alley.

Willing herself to condense and solidify, Myra reformed just inside the entrance with only a minor problem. Looking down she found her coat on backwards. ?I swear?there?s always something.? Worming her way from the coat, she righted the error when a peculiar scent came to her nostrils. Undead to be sure, but something was odd. Sniffing, Myra craned her neck to peer towards the back of the alley when a faint growl came from above. She wasn?t given the chance to look when impossibly strong hands jerked her from her feet, blood slashing across the bricks as her scream is cut off.

((the attack of Myra is open to be played off of.))

Rhydin Aquifer, Pumphouse House 54

?Find the blockage Harry?? Fingers curled into a death grip on the release valve to keep the drain fan stopped, his slate-gray eyes looked to the pool below while speaking to his counter-part through a waterproof headset. Reginald Smythe tried his best to see where Harry?d moved to in The Pit since this was the most dangerous of their duties. Alarm goes off, one of them suits up, thankfully Reginald managed to win the round of Roshambo, and go swimming in the sludge water that came in to be filtered.

??something?.scratch??

Leaning over the rail as best he could and still keep the lever stopped, Reginald swept his eyes along the path of the safety cord. The second he let go of the lever, that cord would start to wind up like a tape measure. ?You broke up Harry. Repeat. You broke up repeat what you said.? Bronzed lips tuck down in a heavy frown.

?My face-plate got twisted around Reggi. But I?ll need to come back up, something down here scratched across my chest, opened up a bit of the suit. Probably just a piece of scrap that slipped through, we?ve had it bef-? Actions opposing his words, the safety cord started unraveling like a fish running away with the reel.

?What the hell are you doin Harry, any deeper and you?ll be in the rotor house. A sinking feeling set his hand inching towards the catch to shut down the cord as it got dangerously close to the last few feet of length.

??aaaaAAAAAGH!?

Hands rip the headset from his ears as the inhuman scream etched its horror into his mind. Without a hand to hold, the lever to the drain fan jerked upright and set the counter weights retracting the safety cord. Breath coming in worried heaves Reginald slapped the shut-down alarm to stop the fan then jumped to the manual crank, as the cord couldn?t move fast enough to his sense of things.

Muscle strains as he fights whatever kept pulling on the cord when the crank jerks to a stop throwing him off balance. Staggered from the sudden reversal of momentum, Reginald slipped over the railing. His last sight before plunging into the murky waters being the sign stating the railing had been approved for employees of all heights. Water thrashes before all is still.

?Regg??Harry? We just got the alarm alert, what?s going on down there?? Silence greets the voice coming over the P.A. ?Pumphouse 54 where are you?? The weight system starts back up and extracts a bloodied safety harness.

(this is open to be played off of))

Delicate lips curve into a triumphant smile watching the rush of black wind blast through the tunnels from its resting place. Slipping forward, nearly skipping, the petite figure in white paused watching one of his posies rush after her master like a faithful bitch. Outside the entrance where her hand stopped just short of the opening, flat against the air; she looked closely. A second later her pastel eyes spy the faint line of dried blood following the line of stone and brick.

With a cluck of her tongue, the fragile beauty pressed her face to the wall of nothingness and inhaled his scent. The cloistering smell of death long overdue and raw sensuality cause her hips to undulate and revel at his passing. ?Clever little thief.? Slicing the flesh of her palm, she retreated from the entrance of Cain?s lair leaving a bread crumb trail of blood in her wake.

?I?ve shared you with them long enough, Mr. Romulus,? the words come as a ghostly whisper. ?Run, run, it?s just a matter of time. Tell you what you wanna hear,? In her fading the soft guttural sounds of hungry fiends echo their approach. ?You stole my happy, I want it back.?

???????????????..
?Mesh?? knuckles rap gently on the oaken door to her room as Mara pressed her face against the surface. ?I know I said some hurtful things. Can I come in so we can talk?? Twist of locks sets her ear to the door, listening to the soft sobbing inside. Gently turning the handle she slipped through, leaving the door cracked she never saw the crawling figures coming down the hallway behind her.


(Lyrics from ?Cowboy Casanova? and ?Undo it? by Carrie Underwood)

Stepping from the catwalk his animated flesh descended into the frigid, dark, waters. Drifting with the current to the very bottom, his pale hands shone like beacons against rusted metal as Cain shifted through the shredded iron of the filter cover. Pulling on the collective of his remaining garden Cain?s eyes, once a striking blue, shift to shades of red. Forcing the muted tones of unyielding black unfold into displays of heat by varying degrees.

He didn't swim so much as glide through the waters. Pushing off the lip of the filter he passed the bent remains of a giant fan. Weight carried him down the passage, feeling the pressure of each new depth. As the pipeline leveled out a series of choices were presented, four in fact. The scent of blood flows down each with equal strength. Metal split into a chicken's foot, the bottom ripped outward showing the fourth way where something had peeled the metal back to get inside.

Hedging around the gutted length of pipe his eyes glanced down to see a lithe shape, all sinuous tentacles and feminine proportions dart past the door to the Abyss. Lips mold into a frown as he pushes off to get some distance between them, unsure if it be friend for foe. Reaching through the root system of his garden, the Singer of Songs brought forth a faint crackling energy to his fingertips just in case.

Beyond the gaping maw, the faint touch of something akin to bone seemed to have been drug along the left passage. Carefully he spread his fingertips to match each mark. Claws perhaps? If not fingernails trying to delay the inevitable, either possibility meant another encounter. Another push set him drifting further on, following the trail of scrapes. Very little time elapses before the length of pipe opens into a natural space. Even one such as he could appreciate the beauty displayed before his eyes. Rock and coral long denied the sun glimmer with their own phosphorous light.

A strange fish, all clear membranes, save a purple source of light, undulates a path deeper into the cavernous spacing no more than a stones throw away. Watching it descend brings a curious vision to his eyes. Struggling with some aquatic amalgamation is what looks like a young woman. Curiously he watches the battle as they drift lower, noting her life force diminish while the victor readies for the kill. Then suddenly it?s as though the strange predator is ripped from her by an unseen hand. The water around this strange, human begins boiling without a heat source. As quickly as it happened, the girl is gone from his sight. However, her no so little friend remains.

Dazed, it floats in a languid pose. Perhaps trying to sort through what had become of its meal. Rather than wait for it to come around, Cain moves to put himself against the wall of the underwater cave and kneels. Hands set between his feet against the stone, the Singer of Songs pulls upon that crackling energy of Shauri. Making it build as her memory shows, he utters the release word and pushes with his legs at the same time.

Not daring to blink, he quickly brought his hands together above his head in a double-fist. The focused force of the spell fires him, like a fanged torpedo, into the creature as it had begun to turn away from him. Even under water, a telling crack resonates from the impact between his balled up fists and its spine. Energy still to dissipate, his path continues beyond the now crippled, and pathetic, thing and out of the water to land heavily upon the distant shore.

?Dunda dadada da datada,? a smirk played across his thin lips as he mutters the little instrumental. The chime of his spurs a supporting fanfare celebrating his cheap victory over the unknown creature as he walked away, changing to mist that seeps through the rocks of a caved in passageway.

((Adapted from live RP.
Part 1))

A cave-in. The clattering of a few stray pebbles upon the settling pile brought a narrowing to his eyes, as the Saurian focused his attention, seeking out the pair he'd been tracking. One, there, alive and moving. The other, just past, in a different direction, with the swirl of arcane energies about her. Seeing the first with little to no opposition, the Saurian turned his attention to the second, and sought a path to intersect with hers.

Bloodied and bruised, irritated that a natural problem had split up the working partnership she had begun with someone who might have been a friend eventually, Leda brushed off her stinging arms and legs and picked her way through the rest of the rubble, wincing every time her bare feet came down upon broken stone too hard. The cave-in had set her nerves jangling; she saw shadows at every turn, ready to leap out at her, walking with her wand drawn at all times. Something else was here.

Heedless of the mist swirling about his feet, the Saurian touched a gleaming button on his vambrace, the pitch of the whine rising minutely, sounding shrill in the dark. Obviously, this area was not stable. It just wouldn't do to set off another rock slide from an errant heavy step. There. Just up ahead, a branching of the passages. And it seems a gathering of shambling undead horrors. Movement, but no heat; This was the giveaway.

Snuffing the flame at the end of her wand, Leda crept to the opening of the next passage, opening her senses to the advantages of her maternal demonic blood. Black eyes narrowed, widened, and her own form of nightvision truly made itself known, needing no other light to enhance it. What she saw chilled her to the bone. Many revenants, gathered together, each taking the same shambling path. Either this was a sign that she was close to the ultimate prize, the whole reason for being down here; or something far worse was afoot.

Laughter ripples through the passages like silk turned to sound as all goes deathly silent. The shambling group fading into the shadows and separating, their groupings like a pack of wolves breaking away to stalk sighted prey. Their crawling movements suddenly focused lopes as they four went one way, and five another.

Rounding a farther corner, Jester spied the revenants, and his maw split into a toothy smile. In the lack of light, he appeared for all the world like a skeletal horror, with gleaming cuffs around his wrists, the matte-black portions absorbing what little light escaped the vambrace controls. Easing into a crouch, he growled a challenge to the pack of five, seeking to draw their attention.

Oh, not good. Not good at all. Shuddering back to her human senses, Leda whispered a word, letting flames ignite along her wand once again as she backed up, the unwilling focus of four undead destroyers when she had not even fought one yet.

The growled challenge is met with yipping laughter like the death rattle of hyenas as they charged, forming into a straight line and drafting to build up speed . The lead revenant falling back to the end. Down another corridor, eight dots of red zero in on a sleight lone figure. Their laughter like nails on a chalk board as they came forward slowly, their approach widening to a half-moon. No rush, there was nowhere to go.

The Saurian's talons dug holes into the rock as he tensed, his hands curling into fists. In a rush, he surged forward, meeting the line of revenants like a half-ton wrecking ball of scales and claws.

Leda was caught, unable to run back the way she had come. The only way was forward, through the quartet of laughing horrors in front of her. Swallowing hard, she bit down on her tongue, drawing blood to pool hot and wet behind her lips, and spat it on the stone before them. A flick of her wand ignited her own blood; purple flames leaping high to form a barrier while she searched her mind for some other spell that might win the fight for her.

Just at the final millisecond the line scattered, two going high to attack its balance and the last two staying low in a basic hamstring tactic. Eyes gleaming as they laugh in the face of what's coming. Approaching the flickering barrier, a lone revenant paces back and forth, its eyes seeking out her own like a great cat stalking along the bars of its cage. The other three seem to drift back away and out of the illuminated area.

((Part 3))

Regrouping, the remaining four at the other end of the tunnel lined themselves up shoulder to shoulder. Inhaling deeply they drew upon the lost powers of the one who'd created them as like attracted like. In one sonic mergence they unleashed a multiplied banshee's wail. Using the thick walls to rebound the sound and intensify it. Acoustics can be a truly terrible thing.

Leda let out a scream of her own as the sonic blast of sound drove deep into her. She dropped to her knees, hands pressed to her ears, eyes clenched shut against the agonizing sound that was forcing blood to trickle from her ears and nose.

At the apex of his leap, he unfolded, aiming his taloned feet at the lead revenant, hurtling at the creature like a scaled missile. Muscles tensed as he braced himself against the sonic assault. The harmonic whine from his armor fluttered slightly, his apparent weight doubling for a brief moment. Doubtless, the Alpha Revenant wouldn't find such a thing of great benefit.

The ageless question of whether the dead know fear is answered at the revenants widening eyes before a wall of muscle and scale descends upon it a shriek of it's own cut off prematurely. One fact escaped the revenants and their plan. The wall of collapsed rock at the end of the tunnel sent their own assault reverberating back at them. Howling they scattered to get away, separating into pairs as they vanished deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels.

Leaving the Alpha Revenant as a long, twitching smear upon the rock, the Saurian turned, leaving great furrows in the floor as he redirected his momentum, leaping once more to crouch over the fallen woman, shielding her from the rock with his own armored body.

Leda cried out in fear as a massive body covered her own, flailing with her wand to send wild blasts of scorching blue flame every which way, thinking herself under attack once again.

Despite all that transpired, the inch thick layer of fog along the tunnel floor remained eerily undisturbed by it all. Merely reforming after each disruption.

Blue flame played over his armor, yellow flaring in its wake, until the last chunk of stone clattered and fell silent. Only then, did he transfix her with his piercing gaze, and rumble a quiet chastisement. "Please. Stop that."

Shaking with fear - something she would never, ever admit to beyond this moment - it took a few moments longer for the words to sink into Leda's clouded mind. The flames died abruptly, plunging them both into pitch black once more as she drew in a shuddering breath. "You're not going to eat me?"

Others might interject a form of humor in their response. But the Saurian still did not understand all the foibles of this humanoid speech. His native tongue was a series of growls and hisses, as one could well imagine. Therefore, his answer remained simple and monosyllabic. "No."

A dead end. One of several she had walked straight into while following the trail on her enchanted map. Leda ground her teeth. "Oh, for flaming shards' sake!" she exclaimed, a rare declaration of furious irritation as she stamped one of her bare feet against the worn rock of the passage floor. Throwing up her hands, she turned to her Saurian companion, taking in a quick breath to calm herself. "I suppose this is where you tell me I told you so, yes?"

For one so obviously holding back a smirk, the Saurian wasn't so great a conversationalist. "No. Why, say that, would I?" Containing his mirth, he glanced around with those piercing golden orbs. "What seek you, in this place? Perhaps, to help, I can to find it."

Grinding her teeth once again at the infuriating calmness of him, Leda rolled her eyes. "It's an amulet," she said finally, letting out a frustrated huff of breath. "Supposedly one of the mistresses put it down here for one of us to find, but I've been down here for days and there's nothing here!" Cue another stamp.

"An amulet. A trinket of magic, it is?" His search continued as he spoke, seeking out either a branching path, or the weak point in the wall before them.

"Yes," she said from between clenched teeth, flailing her now tattered map. "No matter how I try to follow this useless spell, it either drops me in the middle of a battle or walks me straight into a dead end."

"Of magic, know I little. Useless to me, most is, of it. My eyes, trust, do I." Moving with a surety of purpose, though slow enough for her to follow, he led the way to another tunnel.

"Your eyes?" Leda blinked, frowning after him for a moment before her limbs took over, bringing her padding along behind the huge lizard as he moved away. "What ... you can see magic, but you can't use it? Isn't that a little redundant?"

"Many things, do I see. And to see magic, useful is, to an opponent hit, who otherwise, unseen would be." Or, as in this case, the application of seeing magic coupled with the ability to view through stone. Briefly, he debated stopping to offer to carry his companion, but did not yet know of her thoughts on such a matter.

It took a moment to rearrange his words into something more coherent in mind, but by now Leda was intrigued. Half-demon, she was comfortable to run along just behind him, her stamina and strength - while sorely tested - still holding out. "Why is it you can't use magic? And where are we going?"

His steps slowed even further. "That tale, too long to tell, for such a place. A sacrifice. Of my people, a great sacrifice, to save us, was made." Always watching, always moving, were those eyes. Spying out weakening cracks in the floors, shifting debris above the ceilings. Almost negligently, he dipped a talon into a small pouch at his belt. "Going we are, to where something is, that belongs, does not, here."

Her brow rose as he spoke, slowing with him as she watched his gaze flicker to and from.The flame that wavered at the very tip of her wand was tiny, offering little to no true assistance with light; yet that little flame was enough to allow her demonic night-vision to do its work. "Something that doesn't belong here?" she translated for herself before continuing, "That could take us to anything ... I'm not the only student down here, and I'm damn sure those revenants don't belong down here. You could be walking us into a trap!"

"A thing this is, that walk, does not. Large, it is not. A circle, it is. And quite small. A trap, sense, I do not." Another pause at a crossing juncture, before he turned and knelt, resting that piercing stare on her eyes. "Through you, see I. And this. And this." His talon tapped stone and brick, mortar and dirt, before he held up one clenched hand. "Use this. In case more come." From his hand, what might've been a ring, for one of his fingers. On a human-sized individual, a wide bracelet, topped with a milky oval of stone.

A human might have flinched away from the weight of that piercing gaze. Leda, however, met it head on, uncowed by the proximity to a creature she'd seen crush revenants as though they were nothing. Her fingers reached out to touch the ring on his hand. "Alright," she conceded finally. "But if this is a trick of some kind, I'll hunt you down and show you your own spine before you die." The threat was offered in the same tone as a mild conversation about the weather. It wasn't a threat; in her mind, it was a statement of fact. "Let's get on, shall we?"

In response, he merely smiled. Showing teeth. "That, before, has been done." It's probably best if she not know precisely what he meant by that. Still offering her the bracelet, he kept a watchful eye out for movement and the like.

Her fingers curled into the ring ... bracelet ... lifting it from his palm to slide it about her own wrist. "What is this, anyway?"

"Defense. May it serve better, you, than those before." A similar glint caught the eye from the vambrace of his armor, where another such gold-encircled stone rested. "Thrice, for minute of ten, protect, per day, will it. Come. Not far, is it."

"Three times a day, for ten minutes. Right." She began to move with him again, inspecting the bracelet thoughtfully before dismissing it from her mind. "You do realise there are likely to be traps around the amulet," she pointed out, brushing her blood-encrusted hair back from her face. "Anything from magical to mundane."

"I do. Six, that see, can I. Explosive, one, in ceiling. A pit, spiked. Two magic. Two blade, from walls." At another passage entrance, he stopped, his eyes on the floor. "Here, start, do they."

Lowering her hand from where it had been shielding her eyes from the flying debris, Leda peered into the dust, letting out a gutteral curse as she focused on the elemental heading straight for them. An arc of purple flame flashed from her wand to smash harmlessly against the thing's chest. Swearing, she struggled down from J'rial's back. "This could be problematic."

He pointed, before letting a rumbling growl slip free. "The amulet! And of another trap, beware!" The sound of two titans colliding is not one to experience frequently in life. His armor clattered in protest as he charged the elemental being, intent on reducing it to the dust from whence it sprang.

"Great." Leda watched almost dispassionately for a moment as the two grappled in front of her. "Well, at least it's not me taking that thing on." Set back to her own devices, she ducked past the flail of the Saurian's tail to press herself against the wall of the opening cavern. With her companion's battle dismissed out of hand, she began to creep further into the cavern, toward what seemed to be a free-standing shrine. Her black eyes glinted with ambitious greed - a flash of blue showed itself as an amulet, hanging in mid-air above the altar stone.

The surface of the floor between the saurian and his target crumbled into sand in an instant, leaving J'rial with no choice but to leap, his armor whining in complaint as he floated over the swallowing sand. Unable to propel him at his top speed, his flight proved a great deal slower than his normal running velocity.

Bare feet brushed over cool stone, oblivious to the battle behind her as the half-breed crept cautiously to the altar stone. She did not forget the warning of another trap, expecting at any moment to be attacked by another such elemental. Even her spells, cast to reveal the traps around her, showed nothing. Ambition took over, and her hand reached out, fingers closing around the suspended amulet. And in that moment, she realised her mistake. A blast of frozen air chilled her skin, negating the demonic heat of her body to the point where she felt her lips pale and lick blue. A shiver gripped her, violent and ruthless, every inch of her suddenly at the mercy of the bitter cold unleashed by the trapped amulet.

The triggered trap going unnoticed for a brief moment, as the saurian landed near the elemental and sprang into action, bringing his gargantuan fists into play. His eyelids closed against the onslaught of wind-borne sand that whipped at him, his punches and kicks thundering in the chamber as they fought.

Leda crashed to her knees, breathless, teeth chattering hard enough to bite through her tongue, sending blood trickling from her mouth as she gasped for breath, shuddering in the wrapping fingers of ice that took hold of her. And something more, something she had no power to fight ... something that weakened her further, draining the energy from her limbs as she slumped against the altar stone, struggling to keep her eyes open. And all the while, clutching tightly to the sapphire amulet in her palm.

Metal and stone cracked with sharp reports in the chamber, until at last, the Saurian stood alone, his armor bearing new scars, the elemental crumbling at his feet. With a spat gobbule of blood, he turned, noting his companion's plight. Moving swiftly, he fought against the bitter cold, shielding his mind against the compulsion, and reached down to cradle the woman to his chest, pulling her away from the trap as frost formed on his armor.

She was frighteningly still, cradled against his chest, her skin covered with a thin layer of ice, lips blue, black eyes frozen open. Deep within the dark depths of those orbs could be seen a faint flash of fire, the evidence of a spell she had failed to cast in time to protect herself. Her wand dropped to the stone, clattering loudly in the sudden silence of the cavern.

Moving to the center of the chamber, he settled down upon the stone, his armor whirring and clicking as it receeded from his scaled skin. Reaching into another pouch, he set what looked like a small white marble in front of him, and ground it into powder with his claw. Spreading the powder into a small circle, he dropped a tiny black pellet into the center. The resulting combination, while not flashy, served its purpose, the rock beneath the powder glowing nearly white-hot as a surge of heat bloomed around them. While he knew no magic, he did know chemicals.

Whatever it was, magic or chemical, or just pure luck, it worked. Slowly, as the heat of the glowing rocks beat against the ice covering her, Leda began to stir, dragging herself to sit upright gradually as melting ice slicked her skin and evaporated. She blinked, drawing in a harsh breath. The Saurian swam into focus under her black gaze.

As she began to stir, his maw curled in a smile. This one without teeth. "Now, say it, believe I should. Told you, did I." Sitting cross-legged, his armor a red and black box-like object beside him, he too reveled in the heat, drawing in a deep breath. "And now rest, for a moment, should you."

She levelled a flat gaze on him for that comment, coughing a little as she finally felt her flame-ridden blood heat to the temperature she was comfortable with. "What happened to the elemental?" she asked him with a faint frown, looking down at her clenched fist. Slowly her fingers opened, and a smile of pure smug triumph made itself known on her face. She'd done it.

"A challenge, was it." Drawing in another deep breath, he let his lids drift closed, no less observant through scaled eyelids. A few places where his armor did not protect showed signs of combat, swiftly healing.

"A success," she corrected, positively glowing with satisfaction as she grinned over at him. "Shame you're so ..." Her black gaze dragged over his naked scales for a moment before lifting to his eyes. "... formidable. I doubt I can reward you properly for assisting me." Not that she was going to give him any credit at all when she reported to Mistress Praysin.

Even through closed eyes, he spied her smile, and reached over with uncanny accuracy to tap a talon upon the red and blue badge adorning his armor. "A reward, unnecessary is." From another pouch, he plucked a pair of foil-wrapped bars, setting them near her. "Rest. Eat. When ready you are, depart we will."

Closing her fingers around the precious stone that had almost killed her, Leda smirked, reaching out to take one of the foil-wrapped bars. She could afford to be obedient now. All that remained was to deliver this amulet to Mistress Praysin, and the challenge was done. It never even occurred to her that this might not be the artefact the motherly teacher had hidden down here in the first place.

((Huge thanks to Jester's player! Totally ace!))

(Day before the Cemetary)

?Look Marry, I said I was sorry?isn?t that enough?? the bluest eyes looked down as Viktor put his hand on the page she was reading from Cold Springs.

After avoiding him the last two days, she found herself cornered in the library of all places. Chewing on her tongue for half a heartbeat she finally set Mr. Riordan down and looked at Viktor amicably. ?No, it?s not enough. I didn?t appreciate what you did. And saying ?sorry? isn?t going to cut it. Words and Actions Viktor, are not lining up with you.?

?Will you at least let me make up for it?? Kneeling level with the table he let those baby blues round off and sparkle to draw out the inner puppy.

?Sorry Viktor. I?m a cat person. Take the dog act elsewhere. Next time you want to humiliate someone just to keep your friends think about what its saying of you?? Pushing out of her chair, Mary shook her head and gathered up her messenger bag and moved around the table, away from Viktor.

?Mary! Putting the grasshopper into your green beans was childish and stupid. How many times do I have to admit that before you give me a beak?? Hands held helplessly at his sides, Viktor just watched her continue to walk away, door closing behind her.

?Who the hell is teaching romance these days? Edward Cullen??

The muttering of the librarian drew Viktor?s attention away from the two inches of wood that cut Mary off from him. Blinking he reacted with a intelligent ?Wha??

?Go after her you idjit! It?s what she wants. Read some damned Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice, hell even The Tempest. Wanna know women ya gotta read about?em.? Scoffing the attendant just shook her head and continued putting books back on the shelves. ?Stop bein? a damn effeminate beta male and show some testicular fortitude.?

?Did you just call me a whiney bitch?? Blinking in confusion Viktor just stood in place not sure what to do.

?Sonny, I?m a librarian. We?re not allowed to that crude. Have to make it sound prettier. But yes. The more you wait the less likely you?ll get her swayed to believing ya. The days of the smooth-chested man are dying. It?s time for the resurgence of the hairy ape that takes everything with dominance.?

?I think you read too much Danielle Steel...? Grudgingly he ran off after Mary.

She distinctly heard the sound of her own fluid exhale as she stood before the Aqueduct towers that encompassed the pump houses. The evening was mild, some might even call it beautiful. Seventy-three degrees and not a breeze to be had. Isuelt had passed more than a few parties and companions dining, talking and generally gathering al fresco on her way here. Still, she didn't pause, nor did she do much beyond wave to those who managed to catch the attention of the determined Scathachian.

In the lamplight, her eyes followed her thought pattern. Her espresso gaze fell upon a circular metal disc in the street. The faint sound of rushing water was heard from beyond the cover as she crouched down to open it. Gloved fingers poked strongly through the holes and hoisted the cover up. The clang of metal on concrete accompanied the smell of dank water devoid of sunlight. Isuelt paused for a moment and stared down into the darkness. Don't make me come looking for you, DeRomiano! Cullen's voice echoed in her head as she smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it, Cullen." She answered him aloud once more as she held her blades securely against her hips and jumped down into the sewer.

The splash offered little comfort as her boots landed with an authoritative stamp, nor did the renewed fragrance of clammy rock and muggy air. The Judge groaned as she looked down, her eyes not quite seeing the water rushing over her feet. But she felt it. Sighing, she took out the fireless torch that she had recently acquired. The likes of Trixie, DeMuer and Grem were always going on about them, so she figured she would try one herself. Switching on the light, Isuelt pointed it around, marveling at how easy this would be with light to see. Though, what she saw: lichen-encrusted and mildewed stone walls along with rebel rats seeking shelter from the luminosity of the torch, did little to help boost that confidence.

"Alright, well," she spoke to herself, the whiskey-stained voice echoing lightly in the sewer system, "Let's get to it shall we?" Her boots sloshed through the water, which rose every few moments as the pump houses flushed their duties through. Thankfully, she surmised that she was on the correct end of the filtration system that the Aqueducts housed. "Could always be worse, Illea," she mused to herself. "Could be checking things on the raw end." An easy chuckle was her way of calming any nerves in this foreign environment.

She pushed on, letting the light guide her steps. Roaches here and there scattered up the walls and at the water's edge, trying to escape the trappings of the luminous torch and the Scathachian blatantly plowing through their territory. After a while, she noted that her boots were making more headway and meeting less resistance. She had been walking with the flow of the stream and after about fifteen minutes, she looked down to see a feeble trickle where a rushing foot of water had been. What she also noted, however, was that this one way tunnel was now branching. There were stone-arched doorways leading off into darkness. The Judge's boots stilled, Isuelt knew that she would have to choose her steps wisely, lest she become lost in this maze beneath the city.

Pointing the flashlight behind her, she counted the number of archways she had passed on each side. When she had reached the number five, she heard something. It was faint and behind her. It was as if the warrior could still even her very heartbeat as she froze to listen again. Nothing. She turned slowly to face an archway whose stone framing was slightly different from the rest. Her light sliced through the darkness within the tributary passageway and she stilled to listen again. It wasn't unlike a drip-drip-drop. But Isuelt could have sworn that there was something more to it. An exhaled breath perhaps? No. Not down here. She was imagining things. Echoes and rats. That was probably all. Still, she felt lured by this archway. The intricacies of the stone marking its entrance held promise. If there was something down here, she was meant to find it. Right? Isn't that why she had offered to Cullen to check things out?

She slowly drew one blade, its honed steel singing a single note as it was released from its scabbard. With the light in her left hand and her sword in the right, the Scathachian entered the side tunnel. Don't make me come looking for you, DeRomiano! "Sorry, Cullen. Got to do what I've got to do." Her words trailed off as the echo hung around her for a beat longer. Her long strides carried her deeper into the darkness.

No longer were the sloshing rhythms of her feet pushing through the sewer water helping to keep metronome time with her heartbeat. Instead, it was her pulse that was providing the quickening tempo with which the echoes of her boot heels futilely tried to keep up. The drip-drip-drop, drip-drip-drop provided the bass to the soundtrack. Isuelt was moving further down the side tunnel, searching for, well...she really wasn't sure what.

Drip-drip-drop.

She did know that she was beneath the city of RhyDin, somewhere in the vicinity of the Aqueducts and their filtration pump houses. She did know that was the very real threat that there was someone or something down here that was preying upon the citizens, or at the very least, had already preyed upon two of the pump house employees. She did know that she felt strangely naked even though she was fully clothed; the warrior, out of her element, felt exposed. And she did know that she had a limited amount of time in which to find out as much as she could for Sergeant Cullen and the Watch in their case, and to find her way back out of this peculiar subterranean maze.

Drip-drip-drop.

The long-legged Scathachian paused, one sacred blade poised in her corded right hand, the flash torch in her left was aimed at the walls. Even with the small miracle of light here, her deep espresso gaze was made even darker, not able to see as much as she wanted to. She would have to rely upon her other senses. The warrior's well-trained ear was primed to hear what the average citizen couldn't: trouble. Her gloved fingers tightened on both the hilt of her sword and the flash torch.

Drip-drip-drop.

Something here was off. It wasn't the dank stench or the damp ground that stung her nose. It was the smell of something more. Blood? Rot? She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was very wrong here. The Scathachian's training and instinct screamed at her from within, still she stood holding her ground in the deep chasm of the city's underbelly. Although her very bones could feel how vulnerable she was, curiosity was at war with her better judgment. The hair on the back of her neck began to rise.

Drip-drip-....

Her heart sank within her chest as her feeble exhale was strangled loose from her lungs. Her head snapped to the side as Isuelt spun around, ready to face whatever it was that she saw. She could taste the mix of fear and adrenaline on her tongue, she could smell the sweat from her skin. The Priestess of Scathach was prepared to meet her enemy, prepared to battle, prepared to die.

...Drop.

The fat dark rat went scurrying along the floor, skidding to the edge of the flash torch's circle of illumination, squealing for joy as it fled in victory from the hardened killer baring the crimson sash. Isuelt stood there, her fingers nearly locked into a position of strength around her weapons. Her brows lifted as she watched in disbelief as the vermin's tail slip out of view deeper into the darkness. Her deep brown locks were tussled lightly as she shook her head, muttering, "Son of a bitch..." A near breathless chuckle strove to push past her clamoring heart rate, attempting to quell her briefly frazzled nerves. The squeal of several more of the rodent's little friends fled from one end of her light's circle to the other. "Damn vermin," came her hushed loathing. The Judge watched two, then four more, then another, then three run hurriedly...back towards the entrance of the tunnel. Her body froze once more, every receptor in the warrior's body at attention. These rats were running from something.

Drip.

Drip.

Drop.

Slowly, her gaze shifted toward the darkness. She could feel her blood pounding in her ears. Steadily, she dragged the circle of light across the clammy stone floor and lifted it to view what lay beyond the fleeing rodents. Painfully, the glow displayed inch-by-inch of nothingness...until... There was a break in the wall, a discrepancy in the stone pattern. Her expression slid into a scowl as she walked forward, closer to see just what was there. A slim doorway, or what appeared to once be a doorway. It was barely wide enough for a person to fit through and it looked as if it was no more than six feet high and three feet deep. Isuelt's dark eyes narrowed. It wasn't a doorway. It was an alcove. "Why would there be..." her question was left hanging in the soggy air, unfinished and unanswered. The warm bare skin on her neck felt an unmistakable exhale touch its surface. The warrior's heart nearly stopped as she spun around, not quite ready for what she might face.

(Issy's Descent Part 4)

Undisturbed darkness stretched out beyond her sphere of light in the aged tunnels as a rebellious rat lurched along the wall with a defiant squeak at the priestess. Breathing reverberated in the stale air, distorted by the layers of brick and mortar that pervert all sound casting the echoes to resonate an acoustical nightmare.

Her halted breath came crashing through her teeth after what seemed to her to be an eternity. The echoes of her own exhales came swift and rhythmically as faintly let the hint of a chuckle out. Isuelt?s lashes met as she shook her heavy brunette locks and dipped her chin. ?Get it together, Illea. Cullen?ll have your ass in a sling if he ever found out you had a stroke from a damn rat...? She sniffed sharply, drawing herself back up; light and blade re-gripped in her hands. ?Alright,? her voice sounded strangely hollow. Perhaps it was just the echo pattern, ?a bit longer, then I tell him there?s nothing here but bloody vermin.? She moved further down the tunnel, past the recess, past the few fleeing rats who were fewer in number now. Her boots kicked up a new pace, a quicker pace. Although her heart outmatched the metronome of her heels, her breathing was calm. For now. She let the light?s circle waggle back and forth across her path, never once looking back.

The path comes to a halt just around a winding turn, course barred by a rusted grate. The middle bent outward ages ago as evidence of someone, or some thing, having slipped through the manufactured opening. Prints of bare feet printed on either side noting recent activity yet none lay on the ground the way she'd come. Beyond the bars, each print moved forward followed by handprints as whatever it was fell to all fours, moving quickly.

As the light skimmed over the gate, Isuelt?s steps stopped. Her sculpted brows lowered, settling in for a long scowl. The rust on the bent bars wasn?t as undisturbed as she thought it might be if whatever did it had recent activity. No, she surmised, perhaps what was roaming around was smaller than the opening would impede. A swear licked at her lips as the light skidded along the prints on the ground, the hammer of her heartbeat kicked up again. What was it that Cullen had said about taking others with her? She silently cursed her independence and stubborn nature.

That familiar tickle at the back of her neck started up once more. The Scathachian turned to look behind her, more for her own judgment of how far back it would be to the main tunnel. ?Goddess damn it all to hell,? she muttered against gritted teeth as she faced the gate once more and moved in on it to see if she could fit through the opening and continue. This person, thing, whatever, was hunting people in the city she now called home. She would have none of it. Such is what she told herself as she began to move her long limbs through the swollen bars.

As the statuesque priestess began her pass, the grating slipped to the side quietly. Much to quiet for such an old barrier, yet a muted screech echoes down the tunnel where the sides scrap against the walls in friction of oxidized iron and aged red clay setting dust to fall from the ceiling.

Isuelt terminated her movement immediately as the cry of the iron against the wall hit her ears. Her lashes were no match for the bits of filth falling from the ceiling as she looked up. The sting affected her vision for a moment, as she gasped against the pain. Lightly coughing, she pushed through the rest of the way until her boot prints mingled with the barefoot and hand signatures. She brought up her arm to wipe her eyes, the light circle swinging back and forth as she cleared her line of sight. ?Son of a bitch...? her breathed response to the pesky particles of clay and dust.

Yipping laughter echoes up and down the tunnels in a mocking display to set the hairs rising for lesser coming into these old tunnels. The citizens above did not come down here because there was nothing to see. They left the underground alone because of what felt at home in the fetid darkness away from the sun's illumination. Shadows move further down the littered course just beyond the sphere of her manufactured light.

Those were no rats, no roaches, no rushing water. Something was down here with her, and it was very real. The report of the lacerated and bloody safety harnesses at the Pump House blazed through her mind. As the Judge blinked back the last remnants of the coppery dust from her lashes, the leather against her knuckles creaked. Her grip on her blade renewed itself. It was time for battle.

(Part 6 once again, posted with permission)

"Uh...," her features squinted as she heard the spongy sounds of the corpse meeting with the hard ground, though it was the next rippling reverberation that caught her attention. Movement in the water? A break in the surface? Whatever it was, it was behind her. She was still calf-deep in the filthy lake water, her boots sloshed against the weightless surrounding as she spun around. Her dark eyes fought to see what had disturbed the air as her gloved hand once more grabbed at the hilt of her blade.

Still waters meet her gaze, yet there might have been a lingering bubble of air just off to the left. A side effect of moving the body? Possible, though down here, it was as if all rules of logic were suspended. She knew she was not alone, but what was with her was another matter. She would have something to tell Cullen when she reached the surface. But what? The warrior fantasized for a moment about having a platoon with her, or at the very least another Scathachian. But she was here by herself. Isuelt, alone. And Isuelt was not foolish. Her boots began to push against the water, making their way toward the makeshift shore, back toward the puffy, swollen, waterlogged body that she was now charged with retrieving. Her blade was still drawn, her eyes were still searching the luminescent cavern as she back stepped, wondering if she would be able to carry the corpse over her shoulder while still brandishing her blade.

Ripples of air began to dance across the surface of the underground lake, first on one side then far across on the other as they slowly converged towards the center. Water ebbing in a low tide as it started to dome. Her exhale was felt in every pore of her body, "Scathach strike my enemies before me..." She started a prayer that was never finished as she stooped to grab hold of the body by her feet. The fabric gripped and a sickening pull at the over weighted corpse brought the slapping sound of water being purged from the clothing as well as the flesh. Isuelt tugged a bit, slowly moving the body. But she knew that whatever was ready to rear its head would have seen this as a weakness on her part. She dropped the arm of the corpse, letting it slap against the ground as she drew her second blade and prepared to meet her adversary. She took two steps forward, staying out of the water, but balancing herself for battle.

The cascade of water rushes forward before dipping below the surface when the Judge clears the water and all is silent once again. The torturous quiet spanning several heartbeats before a massive figure broke the surface. Towering close to ten feet, skin the shade of pitch glistens as though it would absorb the natural light coming from the iridescent crystals in the cave. Gorilla like arms end in talon like fins where it hunches over, drawing in breath that quivers its scaled bulk clear down to where a stout endowment drags against the surface of the water leaking a black viscous substance. Its head is smooth all the way around as it sniffs at the air and looks to where the source of movement stopped. Heavy forked tongue darts out, tasting, just seconds before a roar that shakes the stalactites blasts from its large maw.

It wasn't physically possible for her eyes to be any wider. The seasoned warrior could not fathom what she was seeing. A demon, a nightmare. The sound of her own pulse pounding in her ears, her breath had halted. As her lips parted in amazement, the thunderous roar let loose, setting her feet into motion. She backed up, further from the water. The sacred garnet at her throat felt hot against her skin as she raised her blessed blades, ready for a battle that she probably would not survive. A silent, solemn vow escaped her moving lips, "...and forgive me my missteps as I pledge my life to your service..."

Its sightless face snaps to attention at her quickly shuffling steps. Much faster than anything its size should be able to...it charged. Claws slap across the ground as the remainder of its lower half breaks the surface displaying one long barbed tail of multiple shades. The monstrous being before her was enough to send a shockwave of fear down her spine, locking her in her place for longer than she cared to admit. The Priestess' ragged breaths came rapidly now as she began to breathe once more. A wrinkled, worried brow looked to the body, surely to be left if it would mean her life could be won.

As Isuelt caught side of the barbed tail and the swiping claws, she jumped backwards, nearly hitting the wall in the process. Her ebon tresses shook as she looked about for the entrance to this underground cavern; the exit that would, hopefully, deliver her to safety. She grunted as she spied the arched passageway from whence she came, her boots pushing off the ground as she began to run for the exit.

Unable to change its course the beast collides with the wall its prey almost missed. Stunned for all of a second he shook away the impact, ears catching the direction its meal had gone. With another roar, it altered direction, charging straight on her heels as its tail coils like a spring. Isuelt, unable to make the tight turn towards the exit without rebounding slammed her boot heels down and skidded to a near halt before she crashed into the hard surface at a speed that would have taken her more than a moment to recuperate from. Instead, she raised her forearm to redirect the majority of the blow as she turned the let her back hit the solid wall. She was unhurt but now faced the immense fiend and its coiling tail. She only had a short distance until she could fit through the exit, yet she knew she would have to strike at the beast before she could do so.

The talons of the slick beast were blocking her route, and she could see that the barbs of the tail were ready for their deadly strike. With a yell, Isuelt raised her left blade to slice at the talons. Her right blade reserved for the defensive parry against the barbed thrust. Its movements were reactionary and unorganized as it swiped blindly, every shot missing the mark before it stills, no longer hearing movement or feeling vibrations along its tail.

(Jacendoa and Riddle pt 3, moments before the pump house disappearance)

"Probably just the rats. . ." was Jacendoa's half-hearted response to Riddle's paranoia.

Rubbing his arms down against the off-shore chill, he scanned the surrounding crates. Something felt out of place. He could sense Riddle felt it too but the smaller man would never admit to something like that. This was Riddles job from planning to final execution; Jacendoa was just an extra body.

"Hey Jace, you remember how we started?" One hand kept on the bag at his waist, Riddle's narrow eyes glittered with controlled mischief at the memory.

"Scathachians in oversized strap-ons, don't remind me," was Jacendoa's cringing acknowledgment of the event before telling the story.

**************************

"On your feet, move!" Rough hands shoved him down an impossibly long hallway, or so it felt, as he stumbled along. The the silence of the long walk was only broken by the clanking of the heavy manacles at his feet.
The old man always said the city Watch were a joke. Call for them and they show up after it's all said and done ready to take credit for the efforts of others. But damn it all, when they're Johnny on the spot, it's like getting hit with a brick! One moment he'd filched a purse without the target noticing. Next second he's got irons on his wrist and is being hauled into the 7th precinct without time to blink.

The wait was the worst part of it all. First sitting for what felt like hours while they took his name and confiscated everything on his person but his clothes. Then that weird thing with brushing ink all over his hands, called it printing, afterwards they rammed this cotton swab in his mouth to have his 'dee en ay' on file, whatever the hell that meant. What would they do next, blood and urine? The whole time keeping him shackled to a table so he couldn't do more than rise from the chair to stand up.

Scratch that, the worst part wasn't the wait. . .it was the looks. Every single watchman that passed by looked at him in the exact same way. Their focused gaze held something between disgust and pity; like it shamed them to see him sitting there being processed. As if they felt personally responsible for Jacendoa turning to theft as a vocation. The looks confusing at first, making him think maybe he forgot to bathe. The long passage eventually ended before a set of double doors marked in about fifteen different languages as 'Holding Pens'. Ushered inside by two guardsmen, they led him to the closest one that had two others about his age all ready inside and waiting. Both were dirty and tussled from their confinement. The whole building made him itch, something about the place set the hairs at the back of his neck on end. He rubbed at the spot so much he was sure someone thought he had something hidden there, just touching it for reassurance.

"Take a seat," came the guard's gruff commandment as he undid the chain that bound the other two boys' feet together. His partner standing next to the open door in case anyone got bright ideas of overwhelming him while kneeling as he was.

Dropping heavily onto the thinly matted bench Jacendoa looked to his right and left at his new friends, trying not to gag at their aromatic homegrown perfumes. Tucking the sleeve of his left hand up over the knuckles, he covered his mouth to try and breathe in his own scent and stave off the more fragrant ones at either side. His thought at the time being how to get the hell out.

******************

"Sweet leapin Jesus in a G-string, can't even tell the story right! You're hopeless Jace. . ." shaking his head in disappointment, Riddle cleared his throat. "I was there. . .and I remember things a bit differently. .."

"I'm sure there was an explosion, a naked prostitute, and you singlehandedly instigating our escape right?" Narrowing his gaze, Jacendoa strategically maneuvered the tip of his tongue through the gap in his teeth with a wet squishing sound.

"So what you're saying is. . .I've told the story before." Riddles dejected response came with a defeated slumping of his shoulders.

"And then some." Offering his friend a light pat on the shoulder, Jacendoa turned to walk off towards the warehouse district when he caught a darting shape skimming across the sky towards the local pump-house.

"What the hell is that, Riddle?" The questioned followed with a slap to his arm and a quick jerking of his head in the form's direction.

Following the look, his eyes pondered at the sight. "You thinking what I'm thinking Pinky?"

"I don't know Brain. . .rubber pants make me chafe so." The line set the corners of Jacendoa's mouth curving upward just a touch.

"Well at least you didn't use the one about burlap sacks." With a grin he began to set off in the direction of the figure.

Keeping pace, Jacendoa couldn't help but feel like they were missing something crucial.

(Part 8)

Squaring its massive shoulders the creature from Neptune's nightmares blitzed forward once again with a flurry of claws. One high, the other came low, leaving its very center completely exposed. Isuelt squinted at the dark silhouette with the incandescent light springing from behind it, she set her jaw and knew that staying put meant certain death. With the speed of the great aquatic beast, she felt that her only salvation lay beyond it, back by the lake, in the form of the electric torch she had borrowed. Lest, she would never find her way out of this subterranean maze. With a clawed menace up above her as well as below, she leapt forward aiming her body for the slim circle of light just to the side of the creature's body, between the massive and dangerous arms. She swiped at the monster's middle as she tried her strong jump, hoping to clear the lower arm.

If it could blink, it would have. The sharp curves of its finned claws slap together in a heavy thunder that elicited a sound of confusion. Falling forward he started to sniff and root at the vacated space as its tail thrashed wildly behind it. The heavy clubbed end slapping wildly at the ground making bits of dust fall from the cavern ceiling. While she rolled, she didn't claim the clean landing she was after. The barbed tail swiped at her and just nicked her side, ripping her leather bodice, but missing her flesh. Knowing that she would need to carry the light, she sheathed one blade and scrambled to find wherever it was that she left the torch. She knew that time was life. Her dark eyes scanned the ground and found where she had left the puffed and waterlogged body. The torch was laying by the corpse's side.

Feeling the soft collision, its blind head lifts and turns backward in the direction the prey ran. The directional change a slow endeavor. Oily lips pull back in a heavy sneer. Isuelt's boots stomped against the slick ground as she hightailed it to the electric light. With only one blade in hand she was able to lower her body and slide past the corpse, grabbing the torch on her way along the floor. She could hear the beast's large frame hurrying after her, she lifted her head to see where it was.

A second shape drops from the ceiling not far away. Lighter, more agile it's red eyes glint in the darkness as it slowly crawls forward into the soft light. Skin so pale it could pass for translucent. What might have once been human, long since faded as a mouth of yellow canines opens in a long hiss. Elegant fingers splay against the ground, ignoring the larger beast further down. Isuelt's dark lashes blinked and blinked again as she saw something up above descend with an almost liquid grace. The Scathachian pointed the torch at the creature and flipped the light on. "F*ck me..." She was at a loss as to the life down here in the supposed abandoned and sterile catacombs of Rhydin. More than outnumbered, she knew that some of the narrower passage ways, if she could get out of this chamber, would keep out the huge slick creature that had come from beneath the surface of the water. But this newcomer, looked as if it could slither into smaller nooks that Isuelt could. She gripped her blade, and kept her light on the second creature.

As the light came on the smaller creature reeled. Hands up before its eyes with an insanely high pitched keen of inhuman pain. Like a blur, the hulking amphibian was upon the screaming creature, claws rending, jaws snapping. The thick tuberous length at the base of its torso spurting thick globules of ink upon the poor creature. There was no way she was this lucky. Was she? The Scathachian thought to herself. A sculpted eyebrow arched as she watched the inked spray coat the agile ceiling dweller's body. If the larger creature was searching for a meal, what were the chances that this humanoid form was the new foie de gras?

She raised her body from the shelter of the corpse and, keeping the light on the more slender of the monsters, she stooped and kept her form low as she hurried as quietly as she could toward the stone archway that would lead to the tunnels. Howling, the smaller creature kept trying to shield its face as fangs tore chunks from the larger target, defying death as it fought on with injuries that'd kill anything human. With a sickening twist its head was jerked around backwards by one mighty turn of the demonic mammal's jaws.

The crackling of bone and the gurgling of body fibers were the musical score behind her, Isuelt pushed herself to get through the archway as quickly as she could. She swung the light stream from the two creatures to the pathway in front of her, praying that her speed was enough to beat the predatory hearing of the larger creature. As the light shifted from the fight to the hall, the images of five more darting figures converging on the larger monster would be her final glimpse at the existence below RhyDin. The smaller monstrosities travel in packs.

The laughter, the prints on the ceiling, the echoes.

RhyDin's underground was anything but abandoned, and if this Judge could get herself to the surface, she would be sharing this fact with anyone who would listen. She knew that her mind would have to replay the directions with unnatural speed; and she couldn't afford to make a wrong turn. Isuelt's mind was in full battle mode as she hastened down the corridors. Though her thoughts were not only on right turn, left turn, straight...the Priestess was also wondering how big were the packs that the slight and sharp-toothed creatures traveled in?

Through the winding paths a death knell followed her. And not a chorus of small voices either. The sound was that of something much, much larger. Ahead the light of the upper tunnels shone brightly. While fear on the battlefield was a foreign concept to this follower of the goddess of war, Isuelt was no fool, either. The supernatural forces which festered in this place had her outnumbered, outgunned and outmatched. Isuelt didn't dare look behind her, for fear of what she might see. The cacophony which scraped against her back found its way into her head and she could barely concentrate on the heavenly light up ahead, for the voices in her mind. If she could just reach the wider tunnel....the water....the sewer grate's ladder that would lead to the surface...

(More to come!)

Slow, predatory, steps precede the faint jingle of spurs out of the abandoned barracks. His skin, the shade of ink-stained milk, ripples softly with the genetic influx from the dead ichthyosapien. Bones along his spine shift and adjust as the aquatic markers combat the necrotic energies of his existence. Bracing himself against a wall, the Singer of Songs lets out a subtle grunt, feeling the sound reflect back at a near sub-human level.

With a jerk his eyes widen at the dual visions from his regular sight and the blue-black contouring of this new gift. Lowering the thin layer of flesh over his eyes, a breath is taken before letting out a soft exhale with another miniscule sound. Watching in wonder, he saw a faint rippling mass filter out from before him and carry down the hall, connect with the far surface and come back towards him ?illuminating? the darkness on a monochromatic palette.

The novice wandered accordingly, her perceptive mind occupied by a variety of academic topics, her figure characterized by the loosely-sensual gait of the very young. And yet, something prompted her senses, and the sure steps halted, her toes twisting as she paused, the willowy figure turning to observe her inky surroundings. "Hello?" she called, a bashful smile playing upon the bow of her pale lips.

??I?can ..use this,? the words hissed out between shifting teeth as he feels each one break and change to uneven points. Head lifting, he moved back quietly hearing the clarion call from nearby. With practiced ease he drew himself up along the wall, arching to the ceiling.

While the voice washed perceptibly upon her keen set of senses, the words arranged therein made little sense. Quillyan stilled the nervous trembling on her fingers, brilliant sapphire eyes shifting right and left, alternating glances. "Hello?" she repeated, desperation coloring the lovely tones of her gentle vocals.

As the young maiden came to his 'sight', a faint smile plays across the Singer of Songs features. Her scent tickling the back of his sinus with something he'd never come across in his years. Almost pure, but laced...heavily laced with a budding mind. Quietly he watches with ne'er a sound made that might draw her curiosity as he drew above her. Eyes kept from looking upon her directly lest she sense him.

Careful steps advanced the coltishly-built figure, her slim and stockinged legs scurrying to cover the space she sought to follow. Then all motion stopped. Quillyan drew a long and careful breath through the delightful bow of her waiting lips, filling her lungs slowly, her senses attuned to the surrounding environment. If someone were there, she would hear them.

A myriad of dark thoughts tug at his mind watching her look about, seeking what she sensed. Senses picking up something special about her the more he observed. Listening to the blood course through her veins, fueling her heart to a steady beat; how he longed to feel that pulse beneath his tongue! Lying flat to the ceiling, he knew this girl to be another piece of the puzzle. The idea twisted itself through his warped mind.
Quillyan knew the catacombs were a place she didn't belong, seeing as the challenge issued by her instructor had long-since expired. But something- some lingering sense of need or urgency- kept drawing her back into the depths of the catacombs. The lonesomeness was almost welcomed, and she settled her fragile and prim figure on a low rock near the entrance of a subterranean chapel. A deep breath pulled through her lips.

The novice leaned back, her slim thighs falling slightly apart in the ease of her posture, her sapphire eyes hiding behind a thick line of lashes. The tension in her body very near beckoned a simple caress - the knee, the leg, the thigh, a hidden warmth at the apex of two welcoming thighs. She may have been asking for it.

Like a wraith he slipped past her, metal of his spurs acting like a chime as he drifts within the chapel, just to test her curiosity. He smelled the sweet nectar between those thighs even in passing, but such possible fires would require a bit of stoking.

In her youth, she also possessed a sense of lovely recklessness, her decisions writ with little regard to the extended future. The novice, for all of her clumsiness, was reasonably certain she could withstand the demons of the cave. Thus, she followed the clinking of the disembodied spurs into the chapel, her astute eyes scouring the sacred space for some hint of her mischievous spirits.

"Hello?" she called, her innocent voice echoing obscenely in the rocks.

In her youth, she also possessed a sense of lovely recklessness, her decisions writ with little regard to the extended future. The novice, for all of her clumsiness, was reasonably certain she could withstand the demons of the cave. Thus, she followed the clinking of the disembodied spurs into the chapel, her astute eyes scouring the sacred space for some hint of her mischievous spirits.

Silence met her echoes within the dark chapel. Faces of stone perfection line the chamber as they look to the mural ceiling as if hoping the image would descend and grant their prayers. From behind the sculpted statue of an angel he wore a predatory smile watching her come within. Speed unlike most had him upon her, eyes flashing madly as he sought to catch her in a hypnotic gaze.

The speed with which his cold figure appeared stole her precious breath, ripping flushed lips open as she gazed with awe upon him, a gasping inhale tearing those deep pink lips entirely apart. A tiny, whimpering exclamation dared to pass this threshold, the intense blue of her eyes flickering over him. "What? What do you want?"

With a tilting of his head like that of a cat he reacts to her surprise before he's there before her, the black blood of another staining his ethereal chest like primitive war paint. With unnatural grace he lifted a hand and made eye-contact to draw her in.

A petite and whimpering cry welcomed his close proximity, and she stumbled backward half a step, landing squarely against the rough surface of the stone wall behind her - it dig cruelly into her elegantly-arched back, her well-formed ass. "Who are you?" she inquired anew, her innocent eyes wide with terror.

Curious. He kept his eyes locked upon hers, and yet the young girl displayed resilience to his mesmerism. Yes, yes...he'd been right about there being something special. Perhaps this would require less grace. Like a viper he struck, lips colliding with hers in a heated kiss as he drew upon the last of Avita's powers, pouring the succubae?s talents into the embrace.

The touch of his lips silenced any subsequent queries; in fact, he challenged the entire mien of the willowy novice, melting her restraint into sweet supplication. The plump cushion of her lips opened to meet his, yielding easily to the curiosity of his tongue, her lips left to suckle weakly upon his, the muskiness of his flesh intoxicating her senses.

: "No..." she whimpered.

The hard lines of his frame pushed close to her waif like features as his tongue curled about hers with demonic practice. Everywhere his chilled flesh touched, stealing the warmth from her skin. At her whisper his only response came with one final test at her will. yes of midnight blue glitter darkly from so intimately close, crashing into what remains of her mental defenses. Hips slither between her nubile thighs as his voice will ring out in her mind "You will not remember...me..."

Another whimper met his advance, the distressed cry lifting the delicious curve of her hips toward him, her thigh spreading widely, supple lengths parting to account for his ruthless forward thrust, the hem of her flirty schoolgirl skirt climbing indecently-high up her legs. Enjoying his kiss, the fill of him between her legs, she seems hesitant to pause - "But I will," then, more weakly, the softness of his suggestion in her voice..."won't I?"

"Just...this?" as his lips sealed against hers as a broad, icy, crown found its way against the dripping heat of her nether. Stealing her breath, his hips punched forward with an upward lift; invading her most precious warmth.

The entirety of her slim body stiffened as he thrust himself deeply within the plush, dripping warmth of her young figure, and her mouth moaned against the kiss which stole her breath. The strength of her limbs abandoned her, leaving the redhead novice to cling to the mysterious male's shoulders.

Her tall form was crouched down by a metallic disc that covered the sewer system in the middle of the street. The moon up above provided all the light she needed, supplemented by the gas lamps lining the streets. It was past 3am and this side of the West End was mostly quieted, owing to the bars and taverns closing almost an hour ago. The citizens were either safely at home or quietly passed out in a back alley somewhere. The distant sounds of the sea were barely audible from where she was, but neither Isuelt's ears, nor her attention were on the lulling din of nature this evening. Her eyes and her focus were on the sewer cover, and what lay beyond it.

Since that night she had wandered the sewers in search of the missing pump house worker, she had had nightmares about what she had found. Even her dispelling her tale to Sergeant Cullen of the Watch in her formal report did nothing to dissipate the images that haunted her evenings. To be honest, she didn't even really know what she had found down there. It had been so dark, but the pieces that she had seen, the smells she had sensed were enough to make the Scathachian grateful that she didn't witness more. Blood and footprints along not the floor, but the walls and ceiling. An underground reservoir like a stagnant lake, brimming with bloated death and a larger than life creature that had nearly ended her life so far below the surface of the city.

Isuelt was frustrated. Cullen had all the information she could give him, and yet he still hadn't taken the time to investigate her story. The pump house worker case was still open, but not being touched. Cullen had said that there was too much going on, too many other directions his men were being pulled in. Isuelt had nearly scoffed at him when he said that. She had been nearly literally dragged in five directions at once and she kept moving. The abducted and murdered children in the Old Temple District, Brian Ravenlock's attacks, the capture and containment of Renna and Kain, the resurgence of Temple Bhaal, as well as her own trials with her Sisters and trying to keep them together and faithful; through all of this, Isuelt managed to keep pushing. Though, only she knew to what end. She and the razor that she kept beneath her bed.

"I know you are down there," she spat through a hushed tone. "Even if Cullen's not pursuing you, know that I will. I will flush you out into the light of day, I will see what you are." The Scathachian's lips pressed together until their color blanched. Her dark eyes were fixated so intently on the sewer cover, she almost didn't hear the wind pick up. But she felt it tug at her hair, stroking the chocolate locks away from her shoulders...

There was a hiss.

An exhale.

But it wasn't hers.

Her body nearly collapsed back, away from the sewer cover. The small hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood at attention. That had just been the wind, right? Black lashes narrowed on the metallic gate separating her from the underbelly of Rhydin. She could have sworn it was mocking her, beckoning her for another stab at it. Her fingers tightened into a fist within her glove until her knuckles cracked. The Scathachian's jaw was set as she glared at the sewer cover and stood. She had every inclination to rip the metal grate off and head down for a second round with whatever was down there.

But not now. Not yet.

She'd need to find out a few things first.

And take reinforcements...

More things change, the more they stay the same is how the old saying goes. He knows that scent...remembers the taste of her under his tongue but does not turn just yet. Keen ears listen to the pulse of her heart as she approaches. Steady, calm, welcoming even come to mind as he turns then. Light scaling mar his features into a bestial scowl despite the slow smile on his lips. Towering above her, his large frame bends slightly.

Her gold eyes takes him in, a hand comes up and slides a finger down his scar. She gave a knowing smirk as she moves dangerously close. Her red lips teased against him, tracing a finger down the line of his chest, "Hello old friend.' She utters in her normal seductive way. But her eyes dance with a pleased gleam to have finally found him.

Flared nostrils drink in her scent before sliding a forked tongue across those wicked lips. He would never hold a fear of her...just as he knew she would not fear his presence. "Avita..." her name comes out in a grating whisper; powerful hands come up to cup her chin lightly. Chaotic thoughts latch on to the curiosity of the demon child before him and her soulful eyes.

His hand on her brings forth a smile as she presses the black satin of her dress against him. "Who have you been biting?" she whispers dragging her nails on his skin. Her gold eyes rest on him feeling how different he has become in the short years since their last interlude.

"Things I should not.." he grunts sharply before pushing her against the wall, teeth bared. His face comes within inches of her to search those golden eyes. Why had she chosen now to come seek him out? His mind fights to hold onto that thread as more primal urges scratch and claw to the surface internally. The taste of her throat between his lips, her screaming body beneath him is the ideas that slowly boil to the surface as he fights to stamp down a desire to follow through on such thoughts.

A sharp hiss dances from his lips feeling the bite of her nails cutting into his arms. Flickering imagines flood his head. Visions of them as he seeks out her body, of her under his body, him claiming her body as his own, Her calling out his name when he makes her climax. Like a long lost reflex the breath in his throat catches at the sudden rush of images. His body presses close involuntarily before he can shake off the visions.
"Why." That one word holds so much weight as it passes his lips so close to her ear.

"I want you." kissed his lips fully and hard. "and why not?" she pulled away to ask that, disappearing in the shadows only to appear on the other side.

Narrow gaze looks to where she reappears. Some primal part of him marks the fading of her scent with this new skill. He stalks her then, coming forward like a beast in the darkness as flesh begins to ripple about his form. "You sought me out.." he mentions upon drawing closer. "Why now..."

"I want the passion you gave me." she tilts her head, red hair falling to the side.

Hissing laughter greets her words as he emerges from the shadows between one service light and the next to be before her. That transition brings forth a great scaled beast. Decaying flecks of blue peel about its muscular back and arms as a great horned head rises to look at her in something close to a sneer. "You...a creature of passion, needs to get it from another?" Its forked tongue comes out to brush hers sinfully.

"Be careful of what you wish..." he whispers softly, meeting her gaze.

"Hmm. was that a dragon?" her gold eyes on his new shape with the hunger. She hasn't had the dragon for a while. 'You have chan-..."

"I alwaysss change!" he cuts her off with a growl. Spines along his back ripple as to enunciate a slow building anger in him. "You know thisss"

His forked tongue slips free to slowly curl around her throat like a noose as a tail that is more bone than flesh wavers back and forth behind his haunches. Slowly that tongue pulls her closer to his gaping maw. The stench of blood and fresh kill is palpable on his breath.

The blood and fresh kill on his breath didn't scare her, his posturing only makes her hands dig into his arms. "Mmm? A moan plays from her lips as she pushes more twisted visions into his mind. ? I know you always change. Every time you taste someone you adapt. It?s why you always live, will always live.?

The tongue withdraws from her throat with one final, lustful, lick to her cheek as he shakes off more of her visions. Bones shift and recede as the man stands before her once more in shredded clothing like some wild creature out of the shadows. Hands grip the curve of her waist and slowly lift to set her at eye level. "And your arcane master?"

"He disappeared on me." sliding the shredded cloths off his form. "It?s always been you."

"Such a sweet thing you are..." His words drip with poisonous honey as he slowly cradles her to his bared chest. Feet move through the muck and grime of the sewer without care, taking her in the shadows. Laughing softly as she nips at his throat he lays her down, guiding himself atop her. Eyes glitter in the dark as they gaze upon her slender form before licking the lobe of her ear.

"Scream...for your Master..." The words hold a hint of promise as he takes her. Within minutes her sinful screams reverberate off the stone walls and up through the grates of the city proper.

(Adapted from live play)