| A Monstrous Fight |
| Summary: | The hunters find their quarry, but guarded by a creature they've never even imagined. |
| Date: | 1865-10-21 |
| Related: | several involving the missing Tristan and Alina post-masque |
| NPCs: | {$npc} |
| Players: |
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| Alain's Rest |
| Description in the set |
| Octobre 21, 1865 |
The trek to Alain's Rest isn't too long from the city proper. After all, the ruins are visible from the castle and the city, a mute testament to the ruthlessness of the family that rules the duchy and what they are willing to do even to their own.
To those not of al'Sylenthar stock, this is a omnious reminder that there is truth to the rumors of what the family is capable of. The story of Duchess Leonore burning the keep with her older brother (then the duke) and his wife and children and other loyal to him alive inside to gain her title is an infamous one from the earliest days of the Thirty Years War. Even the Galenthians would have heard this story, though stories of Lenore's older sister, Belladonna, and her nigh-destruction of House Robar would be more prevalent in their minds.
The light of the twin moons, one waxing, the other waning, shines down, fair enough to make the travel easy enough. The group moves in relative quiet as they approach the ruined grounds, led by the duke's youngest son.
The ruined keep casts eerie shadows in the moonlight. Crumbled stones, still blackened from decades-old flames, are scattered around the old keep, which reaches into the sky like a broken clawed hand, grasping towards the moons. A few twisted, gnarled oaks that show the evidence of so many years prior being scorched and marred by guttering flames gather around the grounds as if paying a mute testament to the destruction. Trailing vines of ivy crawl over tumbled stones and those still standing alike.
The wind, a moderate breeze this night, blows through the jagged, broken crenallations, making a low moaning and whistling noise… likely the source of noise that makes the local commonfolk insist that the place is haunted.
The main keep is still mostly intact, though surrounded by the shattered stones from one of the collapsed towers (as well as having a large chunk of one side crushed by the same tower). The old main entryway is blocked by a pile of cracked and burnt stone; but the side entrance once used by servants gapes open, the moonlight revealing the blackened smoke and soot patterns around the empty doorway that gapes into the pitch blackness beyond into a yawning chasm of darkness. Once there were a trio of stone stairs leading up to the door, but now the stone stairs have been crumbled by time and the steady push of plantlife.
Jaren Cassomir keeps back a bit from the Wraiths who guide them (and Talia), along with the folks wearing heavier armor. He may not be terribly stealthy himself, but he knows it's best to let Scouts scout rather than clank along beside them. It's not like Knights of Ironhold don't work with Huntresses regularly, after all. So he holds the two Royal Lancers back a bit, though as he looks about, he frowns, looking to Artos and speaking to him barely above a whisper, "We may be too late if they were here. No sign of any sentries."
Bess looks pale in the moonlight, her features set in icy concentration. Occasionally, the stoicism breaks as she bites her lip or takes a deeper breath. Her steps lead her along the path taken by Marcus, walking just after Jaren, and the remains of the castle slowly come into better view. "Okay," Bess says, breaking the silence as she stops for a moment to appraise the ruins lying before them, "This place is fairly creepy." That is classic Cassomir understatement in action.
Marcus leads the way cloaked in black and making nary a sound as he creeps towards the maw of the servants entrance. Once nearby he draws his blade, a long dagger glimmering in the light of the two moons and peers beyond the doorway. He's quiet a moment, studying the courtyard then beckoning to the others he steps inside. Keeping low, and near the shadows he scans for tracks in the yard to tell him where his sister might have gone.
Talia moves with ease, her softer leathers proving less clunky than that of the thick armor of the Lancers and the Queen's Champion. Her own sword is already drawn, expecting the bandits or mercenaries to be laying in wait. "We shall see," she says in response to Jaren. "If they have left, it is likely we will at least find signs. And Alina is clever enough to have left something behind, should it be so." Of that, she's certain of. Her glance shifts to Bess, "It's history is likewise." No further comment comes from her, though.
Artos is angry, his frown almost carved into his face, his steps having been deliberate up to this point. Though as the group gets closer to Alain's Rest the baron raises a brow and responds to Jaren, "Or they are not wishing to alert us to their presence with sentries, possibly leaving them inside. But if any of them still dare to draw breath, they will wish they had been taken by crows and flame." He grips the hilt of his sword and draws it from its scabbard, though trying to keep it out of the moonlight as much as possible, following his nephew into the building.
There are tracks everywhere. Far more than two people could make. Marcus crouches low by a set and can tell by the size they belong to neither his sister or Tristan. He catches Artos' eye and points down at the track and then holds up a hand to get him to stay a moment before Marcus turns and makes his way towards the keep staying in the shadows.
Yves kept his left hand on the hilt of his sword, the other settling atop the hilt for a slow drawing. While not immediate, it's with care that he moves behind Marcus by a few paces with more than a passing glance at their surroundings. Shadows and solid structures alike, even though both may be deceiving. He's not prone to speaking much, shifting the blade in his hand lower so that the glint isn't caught by the moonlight. Bad enough, there's the faint sound of metal from the maile as he moves.
Oberyn is as far back as Jaren demands and no further. He will not leave his commander unprotected. He moves cautiously and moves in time with Bess. He keeps quiet and keeps his eyes open. He steps slightly a head of her when she stops and he glances around searching for any scouts that could be peaking in the darkness at them. His hand on his sword and he's ready for anything that might pop out at them.
Jaren moves to close the distance between the armored group and the scouts, though still hanging back far enough that it shouldn't disrupt their scouting overmuch. Thankfully that moaning, howling breeze through the ruins does a fair job of masking sounds…though that works in reverse as well. He sees Marcus' signal to halt, and does so, remaining stone-still as they weight. Meanwhile, Bess's comment garners a glance and a tilt of a brow from Jaren. Not reproachful, nor amused, but clearly something she said garnered a reaction. In case any one's wondering, the thought that flitted through his head was along the lines of "You haven't been home to Ironhold in a few years, Bess…."
As the group enters the courtyard through the gaping maw that serves as the entrance, Bess reaches for the bastard sword at her back, bringing it out and into general readiness, though for now she holds it by the blade at her side. She makes note of the tracks studied by Marcus, and looks around, staying in the yard by the tracks. Jaren's comment is matched by a glance, somewhat wistful, but too busy to get into sentimentality.
Marcus moves swiftly to the entrance of the keep then waits, listening. There is the sound of a girl sobbing and it is coming from within. He puts his back to the wall and beckons the rest of the group to join him while he tries to get a fix on the sound.
Artos sees Marcus' signal and waits with the others, keeping his eyes open as he does not wish for whoever these rogues are to catch them off guard. His frown has turned to a sneer.
Comfortable with letting Marcus take the lead, Talia moves at his beckoning; afterall, her house, in part, helped train the youth. And he knows the ruins better than she. She keeps a sharp lookout for movement of shadows, for a potential ambush, as well, her own senses moving into that 'keyed up' phase.
Jaren moves forward with swift and sure steps when Marcus beckons, carefully drawing Winterthorn from its' scabbard with one hand. He keeps glancing about, looking for signs of human movement in the shadows, but as of yet seeing or hearing nothing amiss. But that hearing nothing bit is still worrying him. Unless they're walking into an ambush, if people are here…shouldn't there be some sound from them? Or maybe that damned wind drowns it out. He's never been less grateful for a cool ocean breeze.
Yves comes to pause behind Marcus, keeping close to the fellow wraith without any excess of movement. Turning his head slightly and pointing his ear in the direction of the courtyard, he pauses on hearing the sounds of the sobbing girl. With a glance to Marcus - what he can see, it's soon looking over his shoulder at those joining after them. Mental tally, if nothing else.
Oberyn comes up close to Bess and gives her a knowing gaze. He glances to Jaren and tilts his head. He moves closer to Jaren and pulls his blade free quietly as he moves. He doesn't like Jaren's back being exposed.
Inside… a long, dark hallway punctuated by chunks of fallen stone that fades into pure darkness as the moonlight's touch is unable to reach much further in.
As Artos gets closer to where Marcus waits, he stays close to the others. The baron keeps at least a side to one of the walls, but when they stop he puts his back to the one opposite of the one Marcus is listening to, not wanting something to sneak up behind him, though he keeps looking around, though only being met with darkness.
Bess follows Jaren and joins Marcus and the others by the wall. She is careful not to lean her plate mail or scrape her sword against it, though. "If there was someone still here, you'd think there was a fire somewhere," she muses quietly. "Or something." Damn them, she thinks, if they got Tristan and Alina and had already left…
Marcus looks to Yves and taps his ear. Did you hear that? Then, assuming he gets an affirmative, he turns to the rest and whispers quietly "Sounds like someone is inside," he says leaving off the part where they're weeping. It was his fault. He should have figured out sooner. He'd even had that damn dream the night of the Masque. "I've got an everlight, and at this point we'll try to go quiet, but they'll likely see us coming anyhow." He looks around to the faces of those gathered around and reaching into a pouch he pulls out an shakes the everlight illuminating them in a red glow. "Let's go."
Marcus turns and leads the way inside stepping swiftly, and reaching out with his senses to home in on the sound. He had to bring an end to this.
There is a simple, soundless nod from the Countess d'Geroux to Marcus. She moves as quietly as she can, following the young Lord. She murmurs behind her, "It may be our luck we can chance upon them in ambush." That is, at least, her hope. She adjusts her grip on her blade, keeping it at the ready, and follows the everlight.
Jaren Cassomir moves along behind Marcus as he seeks out the source of the sounds. With the light, chance of an ambush are low, so he's not making too terribly much effort at stealth, though he -is- mindful of his footfalls and brushing up against the walls.
It was. An affirmative, that is. The slight movement of Yves' head before straightening, one shoulder touching the wall. It could be that he's still trying to listen - to a degree. If Marcus doesn't mention the weeping aspect, neither will be. Falling into step behind him, he's checking those places passed to ensure of no sudden surprises.
Now there is at least some light. Artos shoots a look to the Lancer that speaks, but does not respond. He readies his blade and follows the viscountess and Marcus down the hallway. The grim baron holds back the urge to grumble as he follows them.
Bess takes her sword from the left hand, grasping the hilt with the right and lifting it up, resting the blade on her right shoulder. The lady knight narrows her eyes as the light sparks into view and follows the rest of them, pushing out a deeper breath as she readies for a fight. Bandits, prepare to be thoroughly outclassed!
Oberyn follows them in and keeps himself close to the wall. His eyes are on the room though and he frowns at the information he's getting. He's got a bad feeling about this. He sighs quietly and holds his sword firmly waiting.
The hallway, illuminated by blood-red light and steeped in the shadows of fallen masonry, does not make for the easiest of traversing, nor the most iddicult.
Once in the hallway proper, the distant sounds of a young woman sobbing in grief can be hear by all. One only knows what's been done to her.
Along the hallway are doors, some crushed shut by stone, others open into gaping black pits of rooms beyond.
To Marcus the sobs sound like the sobs of his sister. He clutches the blade tighter, and walks a little faster, eager to find her. The open rooms are ignored. Alina. He had to find Alina and make this right. He breaks into a jog pulling ahead of those he leads.
The sound of the sobbing girl actually steels the younger Cassomir's resolve. Evidence that they were onto something, and that someone needed help was what the lady knight craved. Otheriwse, the surroundings were not encouraging. Bess's nose wrinkles just as her brow furrows. She follows Jaren's lead.
Jaren frowns, his steps slowing as they move through the darkened keep. Though whatever seems to be pulling at his mind and bringing a scowl to his face are banished when Marcus breaks into his trot. He has time to pull his own light source, but doesn't waste the motion right now, instead quickening his pace to follow after Marcus.
Oberyn's jaw tightens and his eyes darken. The growl that starts from his stomach doens't come out of his mouth as it ends in his throat. He grips the sword and he knows his mission now. He knows his current purpose. He moves quickly after Jaren, not hesitating in his movements.
The sobs start coming into range of Artos' hearing. Each one seems to hit him like a sledgehammer. In a quiet sound, burdened with what sounds like two decades of regret, he says "Philip…" And with that, the eldest member of this party chases after his nephew, teeth bared, a rage awoken. Baron Artos d'Acuto charges to war.
Whatever thought crossed his mind, Yves might have lapsed a step or two behind Marcus. It's not a pleasant one, the frown across his features deepening. Because of that, he briefly touches the dagger at the opposite of his scabbard. A check before quickening his steps after the other man, letting that light source suffice at the moment.
Talia starts to move forwards with Marcus, hearing - as he does, Alina's voice in that sobbing, but after her first few footfalls, she suddenly chokes a sob of her own, as if suddenly the air in her lungs were a poisonous thing she could no longer keep within her body. She staggers, her hand seeking to brace itself against the wall of the passage they are in, her knees threatning to give way. Another choked-back breath, half-a-sob, and she blinks, hard, as if suddenly overwhelmed, overtaken by some unseen force or come down with some sudden illness, her face - though hard to see in the darkness, pale.
The sobs grow louder as the group moves down the hallway, the grieving voice giving sound to all the pain and hopelessness the young woman must be feeling. How can one cry so? How can…
The door at the end of the hallway was once an ornate wooden door leading to what was once a sitting room. IN the red glow of the everlight, the remnants of the door look like jagged teeth.
Marcus passes through the door at a trot. "Alina!" he calls into the darkness raising the light high. She had to be in here. This had to end now. He casts his eyes about the room seeking his sister.
Jaren does now take the time to extract the carefully-packed glass vial from the pouch on his belt. He gives it a shake with his left hand, and a pale blue light joins Marcus' Red. With Winterthorn still drawn, Jaren starts forward, into that forbidding threshold. Given the sobbing, no Knight of the Code could help but call out. "Hello? Do not fear…we're here to take you from this place…"
And then ARtos is surging forward, forcing Jaren to quicken his pace to keep up with the man.
A broken door. Only a broken door stands between Artos and the damned sobbing. He is not so far behind Marcus that it takes a long while for him to catch up, the baron moves into the door after Marcus, one corner of his mouth curled into a snarl, and both hands on his bastard sword.
Something causes Bess to stop in her tracks. She does not follow the others. It is not a sudden stop, but a ponderous slowing down that ends with her leaning a hand on a wall and looking down at the floor, her face wincing. There is a clink as her sword point, lowered from her shoulder, joins her gaze on the floor. She lifts her face to look at those who might still remain in the room and her face is gloomy, ashamed and for that moment she looks like she is truly lost, woefully unprepared for what's in store.
Yves had long since deduced that they had been going in the right direction. The sobs continued to grow louder. Nevermind that he would have followed Marcus otherwise. He's caught up now, the earlier lapse in movement disregarded. While everyone else is speaking, there has to be a cause to the sobbing. There has to be one.
Oberyn stops dead in his tracks and he can't pass the threshold of the door. His hand shakes on his blade. It's not for lack of courage but his heart. His free hand lifts up to his chest and he holds his chest as he takes deep breaths to hold back the tears from the grief he wants to release in screams of agony. He is stopped right beside Bess. He bites his bottom lip and he tries to hold everything in.
Her back is to the door as they enter, and in the hazy red and blue lights, a young, dark-haired woman sits facing a stretch of wall, alone.
Scattered remnants of bedrolls and trinkets and dark smudges are throughout the room in the dim light. Some of the misshapen objects… bone? Perhaps? And could those smudges on her gown, on the floor… be blood?
But she sits, wearing a dirty once-white chemise that seems as if it may be torn and ripped in places, on her haunches, her hands up to her face as to cover it. She sobs, her grief echoing in the room.
Tristan shifts. It has felt like forever since he has held Alina in his arms, trying to offer what comforts he could while dealing with the torments of whatever the hell was out in the next room. He is tired, hungry and his nerves feel frayed. He hasn't slept or eaten, instead offering Alina what little of the food they had as it was more important she kept up her strength than it was for him.
And then something.. a voice? He strains and his eyes widen as he recognizes it. Shuffling to his feet, he tries to call out as loudly as possible. "SIR JAREN!? GO BACK DAMN YOU. BRING A HUNDRED MEN, NO TWO HUNDRED. GET OUT OF HERE." He glances towards Alina. "Alina, people have come, Jaren Cassomir's voice, I recognized it. They need to go back, get more help, but stay strong. "
Talia remains where she is, shutting her eyes, tightly. Her own sword clinks against the ground, her hand barely holding onto the hilt and her knees sink into the damp floor beneath her. Her forehead presses against the stone of the wall, and she lets out another sob, harsh and bursting of it's own will as guilt, and memories, thoughts, and deeds pour through her mind of their own violition. Unaware the others have left her, unaware for the moment which seems an eternity to she that is within that moment, of even where she is.
In the alcove, Alina tosses and turns fitfull as she's done for hours now. Her own sobs are silent, having long since lost even the heart to make noise.
But Tristan's sudden movement, his call— it's too good to be true. She shakily sits up. "No no no, don't make noise," she pleads. "Maybe it'll go away, maybe it will…"
Jaren glances around, frowning in the dim light, before his eyes taken in the sight and process it, and then they widen, and he practically bellows, "KEEP AWAY FROM HER! EVERYONE STAY BACK!" He pauses, blinking as he hears Tristan's voice, "Tristan?!? If you're safe, stay where you are!"
Brown hair? Not her. No, wait! Alina had removed the wash that made her hair blonde for the Masque. Relieved, he steps towards the girl reaching out a hand to place it on her shoulder. Then the shouting starts. Marcus stops, keeping his eyes fixed on the girl. "Alina?" he asks though he doesn't move closer and his blade is gripped tightly.
"One help us," Artos says with a slight prayer. The scattered items about the floor. Artos' knuckles are white as he grips his bastard sword with both hands. "He's not alone," he says to the voice that he thinks is Tristan's. Artos takes a deep breath and says again quietly, "One protect us and save us from whatever this may be."
Yves slows his steps after Marcus, hand going to the dagger still within its sheath as he looks first towards Marcus. Check. The rest of them? There's only a few people immediately with him. One being Jaren Cassomir. Slowly pulling the dagger out of its sheath, he pauses on seeing where his somewhat charge is. "Damn." This is why his family serves the al'Sylenthar. Rather than drawing the second blade, he reaches out for the other Wraith's arm - the one reaching out for the .. whatever it is. "Didn't you hear him," he hisses, lending his strength to a backwards step. Come away from the unknown, strange, sobbing, girlthing.
The girl rises to her feet, turning slowly towards the four who have entered the room. her head is down, at first.
But she lifts it, her head twisting to the side to regard them in a most unnatural sharp jut. Her eyes are dark black pits of pure shadow. She opens her mouth and closes it, the horrible rounded maw filled with layers upon layers of sharp teeth that seem to ripple and flex.
She licks her thin lips with a jagged, toothed tongue.
And then she strikes.
She moves fast, almost faster than can be believed, flowing over the debris on the floor without heed nor care. Her fingers grow, twist into long, chitanous claws. Her mouth opens again hungrily. She senses prey.
Tristan turns to Alina. "Alina, people have found us. Stay calm love, be patient." He leans over and kisses her on the forehead. Returning to the room he shouts, "We do not plan on moving, Alina is with me, but go.. GET HELP!" And… being the fool he sometimes is, he opens the spyhole to look out, to witness.
Jaren's voice. A voice that could be Tristan. These are the things that end Bess's deliberation. It is as if she is suddenly afraid of her own inaction, so she bolts for action instead. The sword point is lifted and she heads for the door, clearing it and enters an already crowded room… but just what the hell is that?
Jaren backpedals as the foul creature lunges at him, but years of finely-honed reflexes twist his body away from the first swipe of the vicious claw, and the second is actually turned aside by Winterthorn as he slashes the creature across its' chest, but the sheer speed and violence of his attack has sent him staggering back against the wall, and he nearly slips on a bloody femur, his footing thrown off, preventing him from immediately rejoining the fray as it moves to other prey. "Damn it! Don't let it bite you!"
Oberyn jerks out of his guilt and sorrow and he launches forward. "Bess, I will attack first then you! We will switch up!" He launches forward with his sword raised. He will go over what he's seeing first.
Marcus struggles as Yves yanks him back, though that only lasts until that thing begins to move. Then he stops slackened in surprise and horror, staring. Then thing moves faster than anyone could possibly move. When it passes Marcus, he swings Justice at its side but the sidhe steel dagger cuts only the air. Rounding he reverses the grip on the blade and stands ready to strike if it comes close again. "What is it?" he yells to Jaren when he warns them not to get bitten.
As the beast flies into action, Artos is nearly stunned by whatever horrendous… thing it is. But now is a time for action not for thoughts as he enters the fray with the others. He avoids taking damage from the beast and his blade does strike it on the chest, but sadly no damage is done. "Crows take you!" He roars.
The 'spell' that had Talia under it's sway seems to float away from her. She blinks away the guilt, the memories - the unbidden thoughts of trauma that assailed her mental faculties. She looks distraught, a moment. Humilated that she's been observed, so. So vulnerable. Which she never is. She grits her teeth, and pushes forwards to where the others went, her mind far from the cool, rational, detached thing it so often is. She tightens her grip on the blade and stares at the creature in the room with the others. Jaren, weilding Winterthorne. Marcus, with the sidhe steel blade. And the horrific - girlTHING which is very much NotHuman. The time for caution is over; and there can be no play. She sheathes her longsword, and instead draws out her second blade. A Sidhe Steel cutlass. And she moves in to slash at the creature, with intense focus to end it, and end it -now-, before it has a chance to hurt her.
Tristan watches from the spyhole. He watches Jaren just cleave that thing in the chest, and yet… yet it seems like it has done little to stop the creature. His eyes widen, and he does something he has not done in a long, long, LONG time. He begins to offer a prayer to anyone or anything that might listen, not to make sure he gets out of her, but to watch over Alina and if possible… make sure she gets out of this alive.
Yves has never seen anything like… THAT before. As it passes both him and Marcus in favor of Jaren, the One can be thanked for the small things. "Whoever has that light source needs guard it as if our survival depended on it," he speaks hurriedly, drawing the second blade from his belt as he puts some distance between him and Marcus. When he does move to attack, it's with the sword. Only to see that the creature isn't where she/it once was. "To answer your question, I don't know what it is. And it's not telling. Any thing else?"
Artos charges into the fray again, bastard sword held aloft. His boots sound out on the old stone floor and as he approaches he swings his blade with both hands down at the beast, giving it a wound across the chest as the end of the blade cuts into it. The baron then sinks into a more defensive stance, trying not to get hit by the barbed tongue.
"Alina… Alina… there are people attacking the thing… they are hitting it." Tristan sounds a little excited as he watches some old guy hit the creature. He almost wants to pump his fist in the air. Maybe… just maybe… he and Alina will have some hope to hold on to.
Jaren does indeed regain his footing, and seeing a sconce on the wall next to him, places his vial of everlight in it, leaving it in a useful place while allowing him to take up a two-handed grip on Winterthorn. He moves forward, mindful of his footing, careful to stay on balance as he lunges forward to join the fray again, shouting in reply to Artos, "Something that needs to be reminded it's dead!"
Bess had been relegated to the backrow, because there was no room to surround the fast creature in this small room, but she had been biding her time and when she sees her chance, the monster harried by the others, she boldly steps in, ready to swing at the beast from her shoulder. Whatever it is, the plan was to kill it and everyone seemed to be in on it.
"Trade off," calls Talia, "Keep yourselves spread out, do not let it corner you." The Gods only know what that thing could do if it got a few of them together, or cornered one. "Avoid the corners," she instructs. She may not know what the -hell- the thing is, but she at least can understand tactics. She sneaks in, and swings her dark blade at the creature's head, but it's faster than she expected, it's head shifting just enough to avoid her blade. She steps, with excellent footwork back a few paces. "Hit, and move." This is no foe to try and melee, or go toe-to-toe with.
Damn but that thing was fast. Too fast for Marcus to get a clean shot. Still he remains firm on his strategy, waiting for it to come by rather than chase after it and expose himself to harm. When the call to trade off is made he steps into Talia's place.
Oberyn leaps forward and lets his blade clang off the creature before he rushes back towards Bess to tag her into the combat. He turns and moves away from the corner and keeps moving. His eyes lock on the creature and he makes sure he sees what it's doing at all times.
Yves keeps a tight grasp on the sword in hand, even as he begins to gain his footing towards something resembling solidity. Lashing out with the longer of the two blades, the second held in reserve as defense. Not if he needs to but rather, when. Like, when the girlthing lunges at him with the grazing teeth. Fast. If anything, he knows that they're sharp as his hand briefly almost lifts to his neck. It'll wait. "Trading." It's all he manages to say, putting distance between himself and that creature.
The shadowy, sharp-edged creature lunges at Yves, drawing a bit of blood from the Wraith, before leaping up and skittering along the wall on all fours. It pauses for just a moment in a corner, a tongue that looks to be barbed with teeth of it's own snaking out to lick the trickle of blood from its' claw. It lets out a horrid, inhuman sound…not quite a screech, but…almost a chittering…it almost sounds like some kind of inhuman laughter, before it lunges away from its' corner before it can actually -be- cornered, and heads right for Talia.
Jaren hounds the creature, lashing out again with Winterthorn and managing to strike a strong blow to the thing's left hand, but it's unnatural speed and climbing along the walls pull it well out of his reach, with several combatants between Jaren and…her? It? His allies can practically hear the Queen's Champion growl. He…actually seems to be getting angry.
Bess swings her bastard sword and it is indeed well placed, striking the creature in the midsection. The blade taps the creature on the chest, but Bess can feel the hit wasn't good enough. Her feet shuffle and take her backwards, making room for Oberyn to switch in, but she nevertheless lifts the blade to defend her from any hits thrown her way in return that may be coming.
The hit allowed Bess a better opportunity to look at the thing, nay, monster.. bewildered, her world has changed, but the midst of combat was no place for such deliberation. She had already faltered at the hall, to her shame. Memory of it made her wince, but she shook her head.. gotta keep my mind on the fight, she thought.
"Alina! Tristan! It'll be all right, we'll get you two out of here!" Artos calls to the room. He watches as the beast fluries about the room. Sadly it does not come within range of the baron's bastard sword, so he realizes that he must take the fight to it. As his sees one of his allies, though he struggles to see which in the red light, the baron tries to press an attack on the monster.
He might have time later to figure out what this creature is - only if Yves survives the experience. Tucking the interior of his shirt against the brief wound and managing as best as possible with dual weapons, he could be annoyed. Or trying to still consider how they're going to attack something which.. seems too far at home - along the walls. Stepping forward once more, he takes note of where his allies are before swinging out with his own sword. The dagger? Still somewhat to one side, if needed.
The thing was once again too quick for Marcus and his blade cuts only air. He's silent, but scowling, he grips his blade and waits for the thing to come again, ready to strike.
The thing is -tough-, but Talia's cutlass slams hard into it's skin, proof that the Sidhe Steel is indeed sharp when it hits, and taking away a fair chunk with it, though it's far from disabling the horrid thing. She dances away again, baring teeth as her wrist is slashed from the claws of the beast, leaving an opening for Marcus to attack, "Take it from behind," she calls to Marcus, trying to stay out of it's line of attack.
Oberyn moves in and glances to Bess and sighs. "Can you get them out while we fight this thing?" He calls to Artos as he pass Bess. "There are enough of us!" He moves in quickly with his sword held high and he moves his sword around hoping to hit something.
Tristan continues to watch as the group of would-be rescues continue to fight the creature. Again, the creature seems to do something to someone. In another flurry activity, he watches as several people get hits in on the creature including Sir Bess, which brings a smile to his lips, but then again there is Jaren. Yet again the Queen's Champion is certainly doing his title justice. In a lot of ways, this makes him feel much better.
"Alina, did you hear that?" He tries to offer her a smile and he holds out a hand. "Come, take my hand and be easy."
Alina reaches up for Tristan's hand, looking somewhat relieved, she pulls herself to her feet, sliding her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. They were safe. They were being rescued.
The creature flows along the wall, lashing out and catching Talia with its claws. It lets out a sharp, keening cry, followed by a sobbing noise.
That sobbing noise is answered.
By a second.
A burst of fury as a similar creature, different only in that its hair is a bit lighter in color, hurls itself through the doorway and blocks the exit, slashing with tooth and claw at the nearest target, howling a sob of hunger.
"Damn!" Jaren shouts as the second creature leaps into the fray. "Fight! Fight and pray there aren't more of them!" He bellows, and then lunges forward, lashing out with Winterthorn at the fresh combatant. "Get off him!"
Tristan wraps an arm around Alina, pulling her close to him. "Be easy, my love… be easy…" He turns and kisses her on the forehead, and then looks back into the spyhole. Wait… what. His body stiffens slightly as his mind processes what he is seeing. THERE WAS A SECOND? Oh what the hell was this. Very quietly, and with a great effort of will, he controls his voice enough to whisper some soothing words to Alina. No sense in making her more afraid right now.
Artos is successful in his attack as his blade again strikes the torso of the beast, the baron snarling and grumbling in anger as he hacks at the beast, only to be caught off guard by the arrival of a second beast with lighter hair. "Rah!" he scowls as his borrowed armor protects him from the claws of the beast, but it succeeds in getting Artos' attention. "Curse you, foul beast!" He says as he swings down at the new arrival with a new-found fury.
"Hell and damnation," curses Talia, as another scream - similiar to the horrifying creature they face, now — another one?! She shifts her stance again, whipping around and she moves to slash at the newly-joined creature, leaving the wounded one for the others to finish off, shouting, "Keep them apart as much as possible!" If they can. She can't imagine the horror if their company and the horrors got too close, the havoc and death that'd come out of that whipping claw-frenzy would be wretched.
The creature, no, strike that, the /first/ creature, struck at Marcus in a flash. He ducked the first slash rising up to strike with his blade. It hit, but there was no blood, no wound, nothing. Then the second strike came just as fast as the first, but Marcus was slower to react. A claw raked along his chest, turned only by the links of chain he wore below his black garb. Faced with two monsters know he sees his allies turning to face the new one, Marcus stays fixed on the first, he carefully sets down the everlight and steps towards the first creature Justice held at the ready. This time he will bring the fight to it.
"Oberyn!", Bess yells out, "Stay on that thing, we got more company!" The lady knight wheels around to face the new thing, trying to keep the slippery thing to her front. She keeps her sword pointed in its direction, and a feinted thrust launches a string of attacks from her. Keep to your training, and eyes forward (like the Langers would say), is what she kept telling herself to keep focused and away from those feelings of inadequacy that had assailed her previously.
Oberyn turns and lets his blade dig into the child of judgment. His blade ringing in his ear. He turns in time to see another beast coming towards Artos. He nods to Bess and he continues to attack the beast in front of him and what he's taking down. "We have this. Take out the second one!"
Oberyn rushes at the creature and lets his blade dig into her. He's focused. The other creature attacking him doesn't distract him nearly as much as it should as he dodges the attacks aimed for him. His heart racing as he hears the blood pumping through his ears.
Jaren once again strikes one of the creatures hands, scowling as the attack does not hit someplace more vital, nor neutralize the talons upon that hand. He continues to press the attack, lashing out again at the latter of the two creatures to join them, growling not-so-under his breath, "DIE! Foul thing!"
Talia will be damned if she can help from getting slashed by those claws again; she keeps a healthy distance away as the newly arrived second creature joins the fray, weaving in with a flicker-strike of her blade that slashes neatly against the thing's wrist. She moves off to the side, turns, and seeks a firmer place to land her sword.
The creature has shifted its attention to another, but that does not disuade Artos from pressing his attack. As he raises up his sword he charges and swings it in an uppercut at the creature, striking it across its face, no doubt aided by the fact that the other attackers would be a distraction. As the blade gashes the creature's face, he roars out "DIE! FLAMES TAKE YOU!"
Bess's attack starts with the feinted thrust, but ends in another well aimed overhand swing which catches the monster squarely in the head. The gory blade is withdrawn, but the monster persists. The lady knight finds herself shaking her head, but that is interrupted as the previous creature passes her, rattling her armor at different places. But there is no pain.
Yves did not hear that. Company. Sure enough, there's another one. Cutting the blade of his sword towards the abdomen of the creature, he could swear. Loudly. And vastly, but he doesn't. "Damn." Again. Many times. Focused further, he doesn't hesitate in his actions this time. Now that he has something of a good measure of what will happen should he not duck and find himself faced with the creature's claws.
Marcus charges in this time striking it first creature as it attacks Bess. Then backing off as the knight swings at the creature in return. It was wounded. He turns looking for it, ready to press the attack a second time.
Tristan squeezes Alina's hand. "They are doing it, Alina. They are. I bet your father got these people together to come rescue us." He murmurs to her rapidly while he continues to look out the spyhole, watching the normal regular people attack the weird psycho rampaging teeth monster girls.
Alina whimpers a bit as she hears the voices yelling outside the alcove. "T…two? Tristan?" she doesn't look. She doesn't want to. "Why are there two?" she murmurs.
The creatures move through the chaos of battle, snapping their teeth and lashing with their claws. This lot is better trained and better equipped than their normal prey. A keen of frustration comes form the voice of one of them. An answering half-sob from the other.
Artos' rage seems to have gotten the better of him. While his attacks have more of his force behind them, they lack the finesse needed to actually hit the thing, leaving his blade to only cleave air. But the attacks of the others make him give a dark grin, "At least we can hurt them!"
Talia continues her 'dance', this time the dark Sidhe Steel slashing at the larger creatures leg from off to the side, as she and her companions weave and hack at the monstrousity that seems to sustain itself far more aptly than is humanly possible. She weaves, and moves to strike again.
The thing comes at Marcus and Marcus comes for it. He ducks the first strike, rolling under the thing's claws, he comes up blade slashing and takes the thing full in the eye. He rolls aside again as the second attack comes his way, and when he stands he expects the thing to die, or at least be howling, instead it seems like nothing has happened. "No…" he breathes as the warm glow of victory is crushed dead by the icy grip of fear.
Jaren again finds himself on the defensive as the creature he's attacking now turns its' assault on him. His armor thankfully turns one strike into a glancing blow, and he sidesteps away from the other, bringing Winterthorn around in a black arc to try to cleave the damned thing in twain if he can manage.
…however, as Talia catches sight of the superior blow that Marcus manages, and the fact the other girl-thing is still up after taking such a hit? She balks, nearly, in disbelief at what she sees. /Certainly/ that should've killed it! Shouldn't it have? …
Bess had half-turned in the direction of her attacker, but by then there was nothing there. Their eerie keening and sobbing broke her concentration then for a moment, but she could still see them. Frustrated, she kept to her earlier target, having cleaved it in the leg as it tried to move past her. As it does move, Bess pursues.
Tristan watches as Alina's brother stabs one of the things right in the face, well from his vantage point, it is the face, where in the face is anyone's guess. He blinks as the thing seems to still continue as if nothing has happened. What the hell were these things, and how could anything move and do what they do? As sad as this all was, it seems as if his mind is starting to accept this weirdness and just go along with it.
It's not an easy thing to kill, this creature. For all that Yves had swung at the creature with some modicum of success, it's Marcus and his strike which makes the issue all the more important. As his wraith brother steps away, he steps forward to press the attack.
Jaren sees the wounds they're causing. Their weapons aren't passing through them the way Winterthorn did the Banshee. Surely they can be killed. Surely. And at this point, the only real way they can find out is…to keep fighting. Seeing the creature he's attacking lunge towards his Cousin, Jaren continues the pursuit, continuing to try to hack away with Winterthorn, weaving between combatants and looking for the opening.
Bloody things were fast! As Bess pursues, perhaps too eagerly, the monster cuts through her armor at her leg and on her arm and is momentarily reminded of her mortality. There's the pain. Fuck. Time to lop off that monstrous head off this beast, literally, she thinks.
Talia's disbelief is disturbed with the screaming thing coming at her, she barely has enough wits about her to shift her body one way, then the other to avoid the swiping claws of the thing with the gaping hole in it's eye. It's more than disturbing, but she's at least of sound mind enough and experience enough to know her life is on the line if she fails. She switches targets, trying to sink her blade into the creature assailing her even as she attempts to use that same attack to create some more comfortable distance before further harm comes to her; her wrist still bleeding.
Artos keeps on his assault, his comment not taking much away from his attack. He bullies forward and tries to swing from his right to left on the beast and finds some success as he gets the satisfying recoil of his blade striking the creature. "Aha! Die!"
For all the damage they're doing great and small, Yves does begin to formulate something of an idea. Only after seeing Marcus' dagger stick squarely into the girl creature's eye. The hungry dead are one iteration of unknown creatures. Is it possible that the same logic will follow? "Try not to make a second attempt yet, Marcus!" In case, a strong chance, that he has the not so bright idea as he begins to swing his sword in the girl's direction. Her head, exactly.
Marcus stood silent staring. How could he beat these things? He'd stabbed the first one in the eye with sidhe steel and it had simply kept on going. What were they? The consequences of such things even existing was beginning to sink in. The myths were real and if these things lived what else was-
The sounds of combat bring him back to the moment. The questions could wait. The mission came first. He takes a position by Alina and Tristan. "Can that door open? We may need to get you out of here sooner rather than later," he says keeping his eyes on the monsters and waiting.
"We may need fire!" Jaren calls out, not even knowing if anyone brought actual torches vs. Everlight. But while he can tell the wounds he's inflicting don't seem to be healing the way Changelings do against anything not made of Lightsilver…these things just don't seem to want to drop. They may well tire them all out before they fall.
Bess goes for the neck and her horizontal swing does not miss her target, but the otherwise solid hit feels wonky on impact and does not penetrate. What the… these things were made of unnatural stuff, that much was obvious. If you at first don't succeed, try, try again.
Tristan focuses all of his attention on the spyhole. He watches as blow after blow are delivered upon these creatures. Surely they must die soon. Surely. "Alina." He murmurs to her. "Be ready, once the creatures have been slain, we are getting out of here, do you understand?" He squeezes her against him for a moment, and smiles as it seems her brother delivers another nice blow. Come on, any moment now.
Oberyn moves around quickly and lifts his blade aiming for neck. He misses but only just. His eyes pass hers and he lifts his blade up and turns it in his hand to pass her again with it aiming at her neck.
"Did not bring any, but maybe whoever was here had some flint and torches?" Artos calls as he keeps his attack on the lighter-haired one, his blade slamming into her chest but apparently doing nothing. "At this point we may as well try it!"
"Fire," Marcus breathes when it's mentioned and he glances around the room. "Keep them busy!" he shouts to the others and begins to scramble for things to make a torch, the flint and steel he carried with him like any good Wraith.
Yves probably should have stayed silent, drawing the child's attention towards himself. In such tight quarters, with a swing of his sword towards her head gives him just enough momentum to evade her own swings towards his person. Hearing Jaren's voice, he calls over. "I have flint!" They can make the rest of the makeshift torch, right? There should be ample wood. Like a good Wraith, indeed. "Done." That to Marcus.
"I have no torches," Talia admits, ducking and swinging back with perfect arc to with her blade, attempting, clearly, to lop the head off the first terror they encountered. Maybe Oberyn has the right idea. If she can hit the damn thing.
Oberyn moves quickly and around the creature. He dodges her attack and lifts his sword cutting into her neck and pulling back quickly. His eyes stay on the child of judgment expectantly waiting for anything.
Bess's second swing at the monsters neck misses by an inch. The rest of the party was raining blows on the creatures however and for a moment it seemed that they had both went down. A cheer near erupts from Bess, but it is stiffled as soon as she realizes that it would be premature.
Yves feels the blade make contact, going from air to solid flesh as the sword strikes true against the Child's chest. Rather than glance over one shoulder, he pauses to remark to Marcus with a voice entirely neutral and rather matter of fact. "Tell us when you are ready."
The fight has not been a short one, but still not so long that Artos is weary. For a brief moment he brushes away the sweat on his brow with his shoulder. The baron's blade then finds some success in striking the creature's head. With that he continues his assault, hoping to put the thing down for good.
With snarls of rage, the creatures rise again, their dark, soulless eyes pits of hateful malice. Slaver drips from their jaws and they hurt themselves into attacks with wild, barbaric abandon, bleeding form numerous wounds that are slowly but visibly healing.
Jaren Cassomir yells something that might be triumph when it looks like the creatures finally go down. But it's short-lived, as they immediately begin to stir again, and indeed resume the attack! He steps back, bringing Winterthorn into a defensive posture, then lunges forward once more, swinging it in a black arc to try to once again cut the damned thing down!
"What pit did they spawn from," breathes Talia in wonder, fear, and disbelief as the creatures get up. She is breathing hard, all that dodging, weaving, staying out of their line of attack — and they have to go through it again? She readies her blade once more, seeking to rend more flesh, if she can. Damn things are -fast-. The thing, after just getting back up, manages to evade her blade again. But she's hit them before. And she can again. She lunges towards the creature once more, dead set on striking it. She is resolved to live, if it is in her power to do so. And now there is only one way out. Their end.
Eventually his aggressive behavior would come back to bite, will in this case rend, Artos. One set of claws deeply gash his right leg, while another cuts into his left arm. He growls in anger and again presses the attack, though without the rage of before, having been sobered by the wounds.
Bess's relentless string of attacks was leaving her short of breath and her attacks were slowing down. A surprise attack by the other creature had left her reeling for a moment, too. She would proceed a little more cautiously now, but by the One she would hound them until their side carried the day or… no, until their side carried the day.
A relieved breath escapes Tristan, and he sags slightly as he watches both of the creatures go down. He is about to just pull Alina into his arms for an embrace, to spin her around, to kiss her… oh… to kiss her, but perhaps his celebratory mood is a bit… premature? He blinks and then focuses harder. No, they weren't dead, they were getting back up. He trembles slightly, and then tries to whisper words of comfort to Alina.
There was an irony here somewhere. Steel and sidhe steel alike were failing and here he was crafting weapons of wood and cloth. Still there was no time for idle thoughts, he finishes his torch and works to set it alight.
This is…insane. Perhaps these creatures cannot be killed by any mundane means, like the Banshee. The Fire may yet prove useful, but until they have the chance to employ it… Jaren can feel himself starting to tire, even through the massive spike of adrenaline. If he can feel it…the others are likely no better. How long before one of them falls? And when they do…will the rise as part of the enemy against them? They cannot let that happen. He continues to fight, as he always does. "Marcus…you may have to gather our charges and organize a retreat, if the flames don't work."
There is a slight woosh as torch comes to life the cloth burning. Marcus turns torch in one hand Justice in the other. The creatures were down! Marcus wastes no time and plunges the torch at the nearest creature "If anyone has a flask we could use fuel for this fire!" he calls as he moves on to the next.
"Burn them, quickly!" Jaren calls out as the creatures again seem to fall, and this time aren't so quick to start stirring again. "Tristan! Alina! Get out of there and break for the city!"
Again, the two creatures go down, and Tristan peers out of the spyhole. Watching. Waiting. Several long moments pass and then he glances to Alina. "I… I think it is safe for us to go out now. Ah, how do we get out of here again?" He leans forward and kisses her on the forehead and then steps to the side to let her handle things.
Artos keeps up his attack, though he grumbles a little as hit blade finds no success in doing any damage to the beast. This grumble is cut short as the two fall to the ground, "Thank the One!" he cries with relief. As the fire is put to them he asks hesitantly, "What are they? Hopefully the flames will take them, but still, these are no ordinary beasts."
Talia moves to strike, but claws rake across her side and through the jerkin, rending flesh, causing her own strike to miss. But then the creatures are falling, by the onslaught of the combined efforts of those gathered. It's all she can do to reach to her side, her uninjured side, and with her left hand, toss Marcus a flask full of brandy.
Bess chases one of the things, swinging at it. The creature dodges, but at the same time Jaren has time to set up his attack and when it strikes true, down it goes. Bess wheels and finds the other one just in time to see it hit the floor as well. Skeptical, the lady knight approaches the downed monster, her sword raised ready to swing at it in case it so much as twitches. She waits for the fire to bring an end to it.
Oberyn attacks again but sees that his blade did nothing. He turns in time to see them both fall. "Shall we remove their heads before burning them? Double tap?" He speaks quietly. "Just to make sure. Extra dead." He clears this throat and lifts his eyes to look over Talia. He moves over to her and he's looking upon her wounds, not her chest or abdomen where her wounds are. He hears the words and turns his eyes to the two in captive.
"I don't know if a pit spawned these," Yves remarks on hearing someone's statement. This one being Talia before both creatures launch themselves, ironically towards himself and the Viscountess. Reflexes tense as he moves instinctively away from Judgment, the other creature he hasn't been addressing. Folly is his, the claws ripping the shirt away at his abdomen to reveal the maile underneath as his dagger is brought to bear to deflect the rest. Striking out yet again, this time the Child goes down - but little time to celebrate. "Does anyone need help getting out?"
Jaren grabs some of the tattered bedding and other material that's strewn about and begins to pile it on the creatures for tinder. He nods to Oberyn, and proceeds to follow his advice, bringing Winterthorn down once, then twice to sever the creatures' heads from their bodies, swinging hard enough that the nigh-indestructible blade actually bites deep into the stone floor with each strike. "Was anyone bitten?"
Alina hears Jaren's call, and reaches for the latch to open the secret door from inside.
A section of the wall slides open— a section that looks no different than the others. Tristan and Alina stumble out, looking dirty, pale, and shaken. How long had they hidden within? Two days with that creature laying in wait for them, desiring to eat them both.
Alina staggers, leaning heavily on Tristan for a moment. "It was eating people… there were men, they were… they were going to kill Tristan…" she starts babbling, her eyes wide. "It ate them all, it just…"
Tristan's and Alina's appearance causes Bess to snap out from watching over the monster's body. The sword lowers and she rushes over to them. "My lord," she begins, "My lady! Are you unhurt?" Behind her, she hears Jaren's question and half-turns towards him, spreading her arms a bit. In places, her armor has been cleaved. "I- I think it just scraped me with those arms, I mean, claws." She had done her best to not walk into that mouth, but she wasn't sure as she had been blindsided a few times.
"Just slashed," Artos responds to Jaren, "I'll be fine, but will probably take it easy for a couple of days once we get back…" When Alina and Tristan emerge from the wall he appears to lighten up a little and says with relief and joy, "I pray you two are all right, we need to get you two out of here!" He takes a deep breath, and turns to Jaren, "We had best get everyone out as soon as possible."
Marcus looks up from the fire nodding thanks when Jaren adds more kindling. He plunges the torch into that as well to get the flames burning brighter. "No," he answers the man's question before turning to watch Alina emerge. He does not go to her though, waiting, instead for the monsters to be burnt to nothing.
"Not bitten," Yves remarks, sheathing the sword in favor of keeping the dagger wielded to cut a strip of cloth from his now ruined shirt. Lifting the strip to his neck to ensure that the bleeding stops now unhindered, he looks towards Tristan and Alina with acknowledgement. Both are uninjured. "Close, but no." He has no bite marks on his person. "It will heal."
"Clawed," Talia inhales, sharply. "Twice. Not bitten." Her side -hurts-. Those claws were nasty. The wrist isn't so bad, just painful. She closes her eyes. Opens them, slowly. "Marcus. Take your sister. Viscount. Help your Lord." Yes. Talia's giving orders, of a sort. She looks to Oberyn, gritting her teeth. "I may need some assistance, back." Yves, too, is glanced at. "See to the Baron, if he needs aid." She sheathes, slowly, her own weapon, shudders, briefly. She looks to Alina, "We are pleased you're safe, Lady." That much is sincere. She manages, for Alina, a smile, with her hand placed against her bloodied side. "I think we're all eager to leave. Your father waits."
For a moment, when he appears dishevelled and unkempt, Tristan stares around the room with wide eyes. He's not even sure how long it's been since he and Alina decided to take this little trip. Taking a single stumbling step forward, he falls down to his knees, breathing hard. "What… what are those things. They, they killed everyone, like Alina says."
Hearing Bess, he glances up at her and shakes his head. "Tired… exhausted… but no, it did not get us, though it tried. Oh, One it tried." Images flash through his mind and he shudders. Letting out a long breath, he then struggles back to his feet, and then starts stumbling towards the door.
Oberyn checks himself over and shakes his head. "I seem to be intact." He speaks up. He sheaths his blades as he moves over to Talia and moves his arm around her. "Hold on." He speaks softly to her. He moves his arm behind her knees and carefully lifts her up off the ground and carries her. He follows after the couple and is as graceful as he can be to prevent any jarring to the Countess.
"You will all need a healer's care if you took wounds." Jaren frowns down at the burning bodies, "Who knows what diseases these things might carry? Best to have them properly cleaned." He shakes his head to Tristan and Alina, "I don't know what they were…aside from some Ungodly creature from out of the darkest legends." Which is…pretty much completely honest. Sirrah's going to have to hear about this. "We should get out of here."
Bess is very happy to say the next words to Tristan, "You are safe now, my lord." Then she slings her sword over her back and takes a good look at what remains of the monsters. She makes a face at them for a moment. "Have any of you seen anything like this before?", she asks those around her, looking at their faces, suspicious. It was pretty clear she hadn't.
Marcus shakes his head. "I have a job to do," he answers Talia. Though when Jaren insists they go he looks over at the man. "Are you sure they are dead?" he asks him since he seemed to recognize them or the danger they presented early on. "If you're not I'll wait until they're ash and see them in the Rytone."
"It didn't…" Alina says quietly, looking a bit shell-shocked. "It didn't know how to open the door. The switch. Didn't know." She shivers. "It wanted to eat us too… it… broke open bones… and the sound. It kept…"
She swoons for a moment, but manages to stay upright, somehow. "I just want to go home. A bath. I want a bath." And that is all she is able to say for now. War-shock, they call it; when someone has seen more than they should.
"Yes, let us get out of here." Artos says, though he knows that once he returns to Garfana he will have to look into this. Artos scowls, "Crow-taken creatures. But there will be time for questions later. Tristan, Alina, are you two both fit to travel back to the castle?"
"Baron." While Yves might not have expected being ordered about, considering the source? He turns towards the other man with a quick once over of a damage once over - what's injured and more importantly, what's not. "Can you move on your own two feet or will you need an assist? The sooner we leave, the faster we can put this behind us." Reports will have to be made, just not to the most logical people.
"You should return with your sister, Lord Marcus. I am uninjured. I will stay and make sure there is naught but ash remaining and catch up with you on the way back." Jaren suggests, moving over to the side and continuing to watch the things burn. At Bess's question, Jaren glances at her briefly, and then his eyes dip back down to the burning monsters. It's not an answer, but he's not usually one to mince words. Silence actually might imply he -has- seen them before. Or something like them.
Getting picked up and carried was /not/ what Talia had in mind when she'd asked Oberyn for assistance. But her mind is too fugued with mental exertion, trauma, and her body too wracked with pain. She starts to object, then exhales in a reluctant sigh of relenting to the Knight's will to carry her. "Yes," agrees she, to something Jaren said. "A healer. And then … drink." Lots of drinking. She does not openly share the fact her mind is already wanting a very, very long night with opium to calm herself down. She looks briefly to Jaren, "You serve your Queen well. Thank you. For your aid, Viscount. I'm not certain we would've survived without your presence." That, too, is quite sincere. A masterbladesman can certainly recognize another's skill.
"I will be fine, sir, but thank you," Artos says with a nod to Yves, "I've had worse. It will not be comfortable, but I'll get back all right." He takes another breath, "But there is nothing else for us here but burning bodies, which the Viscount has agreed to watch. No sense in lazing about."
Tristan haults and then looks at each of the people in turn. He can't summon up the energy to really do a whole lot but bow his head and say. "My thanks, to you all." There are ways a man is willing to die. Being consumed by some… thing… that is not one of them. He glances over to Jaren, then to Bess, and finally to Oberyn and then goes back to moving out of the room with Alina. He has no desire to stay in this place a moment longer than he has to.
Okay, ouch. With the post fight crash coming those wounds were starting to hurt and throb. Bess winced, giving Jaren a look and a nod, until starting to head out of the cursed ruins. She'd keep Tristan and Aline in her sight at all times. On the way, she taps Oberyn's shoulder a few times and actually cracks a fleeting smile through her wincing. Reports of the current batch of Lancers all being no good underachievers were greatly exaggerated, she was happy to report.
Alina allows Tristan to lead her out, obviously shaken. A bath and food and a long sleep would do wonders for her, perhaps.
Oberyn lifts his eyes and looks to Jaren. "Someone should stay with Viscount Jaren." He bows his head. "None should be left alone in this place." He speaks to her. "Stay with him." He keeps Talia against his chest as he moves towards Tristan. "Please stay close to me, my lord." He speaks quietly. "We will defend you."
Bess sighs at Oberyn's suggestion, then turns to look back at Jaren. "I'll stay," she says.
Marcus looks at Jaren for a moment clearly considering saying no before he inclines his head. "If I have your word they were destroyed upon your return, I will go," he promises before he turns to move to his sister's side and offer support. After all he could not return to his father with any less of an assurance this threat to their lands was destroyed.
Jaren nods in return to Talia and Tristan, then looks to Bess and shakes his head, "No, you have injuries that need to be seen to, Sir Bess. Go with the others." Jaren's tone isn't angry, just matter-of-fact. "Trust me…I'll insure these things are dead, and if I so much as hear a rat skitter across the floor, then tonight you will all find out just how fast a Queen's Champion can sprint out of this place in Brigadine." A bit of a joke, but the humor barely reaches his eyes. "I will be all right."
Bess can't stiffle a chuckle at that, which hurts her wounds, which in turn deepens her post-chuckle grimace. "All right," she says quietly, and starts heading back on out after the others.
Jaren watches the others depart, and then remains crouched near the fires, his back to the wall positioned so he can see all the other entryways of the room as the creatures burn, and when only soot and ash remain, he finally rises and makes his way out of the ruins, a grim expression on his face as that eerie wind howls through the bones of a once-great keep. Tired though he may be, there's still haste in his step as he heads back towards the city, even with the first rays of twilight beginning to touch the sky.
Which means that he's well out of earshot when a soft, halting sound can just barely be heard on that wind.
The sound of a young woman's sobs….