Heir to the Throne - Far Beneath Part 1

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Part 3: Far Beneath

Yet another dreary and dark night. Yet, for the Von Stein Rebellion, there could be no better weather to be asked for, for this kind of operation. A ship remains in a hidden harbor a few miles away from their target, hidden from plain sight. Its sails dropped, and its body swaying heavily on the tumultuous waters.

The occassional flash of lightning, and the looming stare of Luna are all that light up the darkness as the group moves forward. Warmaster Olrun, as well as the denied Prince of the Von Stein legacy lead the group, as the team approaches the mines being used by the local Duivia Dukedom government. Once, these mines were held by the Von Steins, and was the source of much of their wealth. Now, it serves to feed Duivia, and as a place where the less fortunate are sent when they start questioning their purpose in life - in service to Duivia.

Gran'it and Olrun duck behind a large rock, wet with the heavy moisture of the downpour coming down on all of them. Glancing over, they spot nobody out and about in the village-camp that is attached to the Crystal Mines themselves. They then motion for the group to approach.

"No guards." Gran'it notes. "So we've got a few moments out here. Olrun will return back to the ship, and prepare for any people we manage to extract. I will come with you in order to..." He's cut off, getting a stare from Olrun.

"Look, these are my people. If I am going to ask these Adventurers to stick their necks out for the sake of me, as well as the people of this region, I need to be willing to..."

"Very well. But you better come back alive." Olrun answers him, before stepping out towards the open, her eyes glancing around, elven ears focused in on any sounds in the area. Most of it being drowned out by the heavy splashing of the rain itself. She then motions for the group.

Carver's face is a mask of warpaint, the most she's ever haphazardly slopped on her face. The hood pulled up and then forward almost to her noseline keeps the worst of the rain off of her, but soaked is soaked. She is ready for war, and knows that's what they're at, but her thoughts continue to be haunted by grasping hands in the dark that only she had been 'blessed' to see.

Oh, no, she brought her horse again. The creature at least seems well-trained, quiet other than a hoof that occasionally thumps to the ground with the rolling of distant lightning.

Harshad looks slightly discomfited as well. Presumably at the prospect of having to babysit their noble patron (even if he's treated them well, he's -still their meal ticket-). But looking at the expression on Gran'it's face, the half-oruch sighs quietly. "Alright... but for the love of the gods, and Lady Luck in particular, don't take any chances."

He scratches at his mustache and goatee, a little shaggier over the last few days and sopping from the rain. The rangy fellow is dressed in his nondescript laborer's garb, with his light armor over it, and a heavy oilcloth cloak and hood over that. "I'd complain about the weather, but for a change it's a good thing. It'll keep people indoors, encourage guards to not linger on patrols, and cover some of our noise." He suddenly grins. "Great time for a burglary... or a chain-break."

The arbalest of the group thuds against another rock, sodden blackened scale mail rattling as his back hits it. Warrick jams the stock of the crossbow against the pit of his shoulder, a bolt already slotted in as he peers around the corner to the village. "A-firm," he grunts to Gran'it, voice echoing inside his armet helmet. "Stay safe, sir, as Harshad said."

He pulls his oilcloak a little tighter around his shoulder. "Yes. We can try and go quietly, but a brisk entry once we're found out will give them very little time to rally."

"Mr. Lordling," Carver mumbles behind the young would-be Duke, holding two pieces of bark that she has scratched runes onto. "Bite this, iffin' you please. It's not much magic-like, but it might keep you a whit safer shoul' someone try to put something keen in somewher' soft."

If he does as she asks, she bites the other half, and mumbles nonsense entreating the primal spirits to action. Fingers, dark with mud, stroke cheek and then forehead down to the bridge of the nose in the rough silhouette of a shield. Upon his flesh does it harden, taking a darker hue, like the bark upon which he held.

Zofija didn't have any large hat or coat as she normally did, which is to say, the arvek-nar was looking fairly unhappy given the weather. That being said, it was hard to tell if it was unhappier than usual.

"S'long as you don't make the job harder. Or harder than we can handle, since you're important." They grunt. "I don't think we can liberate an entire mine without being spotted, but the longer we can stay hidden, the better."

Staring at the entryway to the mines, Stena hefts her greathammer over her shoulder and brushes back some loose locks of blond-white hair. She adjusts her grasp and then exhales sharply through her nose, nostrils flaring.

"I do so like breaking chains," she offers, 'glacier-blue' eyes narrowing momentarily. Yeah, she's ready, and seemingly eager.

"I won't take any chances. Olrun will chase me to the ends of the Halls if I did." Gran'it answers Harshad with a soft smile. "And don't worry. I'm pretty handy with a blade." He mentions, as he pulls a rather interesting looking Glaive off of his back and into his hands at the ready. "You folk take the lead. I'll at least ease your minds by not standing at the front as we enter." He then adds, understanding very well that his insistence is putting more pressure on the Adventurers.

At Carver's urging, the young would-be-Duke looks at the bark. "Alright." He answers, biting the runed barks as requested. Not moments later, his flesh begins to harden and change. The man letting out a gasp of amazement at this, raising his hands and then lowering them again. "Magic truly is... 'wild'." He remarks. "Thank you, Lady Carver."

Hop. Hop. Wait to time it. Was that a thund-CAW, CAW. Ah, to get that out of the system.

Meanwhile, a bundle of clothing and torches makes his way over with ever increasing tip forwardness - except for the counterbalancing of the black feathered tail that moves up, and then slowly moves up down. "... everyone have their cloaks with them?" Crik asks from underneath the wet hood of his. "I have spares."

Once Gran'it is enchanted to be a little more ... barky? Harshad raises an eyebrow, but grins at Carver. "Good thinking." He turns his hood towards the cave entrance. "Alright then. Let's get this started." He loosens his rapier and dagger in their sheaths, and checks a sap hanging off his belt, before starting to slink towards the mine. Sticking to shadows, avoiding the light and using the puddles to cover any sound that might be made -- although the rain is doing a marvelous job of tamping that down.

Stena is very good at sneaking. You can tell by the clanking of her breastplate as she moves and the heavy, thudding foootfall of her boots. She does her best to manage these things, really, but it's difficult and she's not exceptionally ttrined at it. Seems like the big, muscular blond relies on hittting things with her hammer, not sneaking up to them and hitting them with her hammer. One louder creak gives her pause, her face scrunching up in a way that highlights her many freckles on her youthful features.

Warrick nods sharply once, smirking a bit behind the helmet as he sees Carver cast her magic, and Gran'it becoming more fortified. As well as the pun.

Casting a quick look across the party, he gives a little nod to those he hasn't met before following after Harshad, crossbow raised. He wasn't sneaky, wasn't trying to be as he was holding his weapon in preparation.

Entering the cave, it's a long path of narrow halls which have been closed off with signs indicating 'cleared' shafts.

"The Crystal mines here had been in our family for generations. There's a lot of veins that have long since run out. But when the War happened, we'd just found a few new large crystal veins." Gran'it mentions at a whisper as they begin to proceed inwards. He's remarkably quiet, with his armor only mildly creaking as they journey deeper and deeper.

It gets darker and darker. There's an occassional glowing gem that's been left to stick out of the walls, creating natural lighting. But soon they start to come up on split. Ahead, they can see two Guards standing at the southern portion of what looks like a crossing of sorts.

"Do you think the rumors are true?" The Guard mumbles.

"I doubt it." The man on the other side remarks, vaguely.

Gran'it squints. "I feel like I recognize that man." Looking at the side of the guard. Kneeling down as the group enters the area.

In the distance, they can hear the sound of pickaxes hitting stone. The sound of lazy water having things fall into it. And the far off marching of footsteps. There's activity here. But why is the Crossroads this dark? There's no torch active in this section at all.

Harshad squints down the passage, and gestures to the others, before pulling out his sap and waggling it at the guards -- his grin a bit harsh, but hardly lethal. At least he's trying to keep the bloodshed down. And so the half-orc begins to creep forward, past the entrance, and as he does he pauses, looking to his left... nothing there, and then right -- just in time to look right into the eyes of a stunned guard who is looking right at him.

"Well, shit."

Nobody in the guard was expecting a group of Adventurers to suddenly show up in the mines. But it's very clear to them immediately that the people who are stepping inside are not from around here!

"Hey! Halt! What are you doing here!?" The Guard demands to know, as there's a quick ruckus all around them, as various other guards turn to look the direction of Harshad and the rest entering the Mines!

Warrick anchors himself to the wall as they get to the split, the darkness isn't helping in his night blindness as he relies on the others to navigate. "Then we'll try to take that one aliv-" he whispers back, but is cut off from Harshad slinking forward and uttering a curse.

He curses too himself. "Contact...!" he hisses in a code, sliding against a cave wall and launching a bolt down the way. <Merctalk>

Despite not being the best at stealth, it's reasonable for Stena to move up at that point... so she does. Hammer wielded carefully, she clanks her way forward trying tto get close enough to suport the others without getting in the way just yet. That's all she really *can* do for the time being. Be ready. She lets out a little frustrated hiss, teeth clenched.

Gran'it is quick to move alongside Harshad when the man stops, and he spots the Guards reacting to their presence. He takes a flanking position at Harshad's side, and brings his Glaive to the ready, prepared to protect Harshad. "I've got your back." He is quick to declare with youthful bluster!

"Shit, course we stick out like sore thumbs." Zofija curses, grabbing her hammer and readjusting it. If they're gonna run for reinforcements, stop them in their tracks. Pick a side and strike while their focused on someone else. catching them while they're mid step's a good time for it, when they're off balance." The arvek-nar calls out to the others. "And maybe don't kill them if you can help it."

"See?" Crik hurriedly whispers to the rest of the party. "They _found something_." He was barely able to contain his excitement, horror, excitement, or all of the above. His black eyes peered into the darkness. "... no light. What kind of mine is this?" He clutches onto one of his notebooks.

When the call to fire comes out, a hand crossbow appears in the corvid's hand and a bolt fires off into the dark. "... did you mean alive?" He asks from Warrick then, with a tilt of his head.

As the guard rushes Harshad, the half-orc looks exasperated. "Of all the... why are you -alert-, why aren't you half asleep?" He abruptly realizes he's flanked by Stena and Gran'it, and he gives the bloodrager a look. "Keep him alive, will you?" Then he whirls the sap around his fist into an impromptu cestus, and punches the guard right in the face with it.

The guards continue to rush in on their position. So far, they've not had a chance to bring their might to bear. But there's no doubt it will not be long!

Carver spins to her right, an acrobatic motion that frees her shooting arm. The arrows whistling pass thunk into the guard's chest without mercy or delay, and her whistle of command has her steed prance forward through tight corridor of bodies to a protective position on the wall.

Warrick ducks low as Carver shoots over his shoulder, him reaching up to grabbing at a floating rock near his head. "Mnial," he utters, and it sheds a soft white light, filling the tunnel. "Keep them live!" he echoes after Harshad, rushing forward to back Gran'it up. "Hold the line!"

"I done been told," says a disappointed Stena athe insistence she try not to kill anyone. She attaches her hammer to the strap on her back and instead grows wickedly sharp claws. As tthe guard turns to strike at Zofija when she passes by him, Stena senses an opportunity. Sensing an opportunity when the guardsmen turns to strike Zofija, Stena rushes in, shoulder-checking him too the ground with the power of her muscles and she goes too put her boot on his chest. "Stay down," she tells him, raising a white-clawed fingertip to her lips in a 'hush' gesture.

Zofija finds a spot in the confined tunnels of the mine she can squeeze through, stopping just long enough to pat the horse she was passing by. The guard gets a much less affable acknowledgement, one with much more blunt trauma as the smack the face of their hammer into the guards side, knocking the wind out of them. Attempting to fall back earns another solid smack, this one sending them collapsing to the ground.

The Guards roar in anger at the group as they rush both flanks. One going after Zofija, but failing to bring their Morningstar upon her. While the one to the right slams his Morningstar upon Gran'it's body. But the Barkskin wards off the strike, splintering in wooden fragments across the ground, with Gran'it immediately slicing his armor and carving partially through it!

Crik looks at his hand crossbow. "This is going to be difficult stealth mission." He then says out loud - before he leaves Carver's good side. With a flutter of cloaks and wings, he carefully makes his way into the melee only to raise his dagger -

- and flip it around to bang the hilt of the heavy, flat blade onto a nearby guard's head.

Meanwhile, Harshad sees Zofiya knock out one of the guards, and grins. "So, you said 'crystals'. Do you mean gems?" His voice is almost conversational as he speaks to Gran'it. Suddenly the rogue dives forward, sidestepping as he rolls past the guard facing Gran'it, only to pop up -behind- the guard. His sap slams into the man's back, but fails to injure him. "Give it up, buddy. I don't want to hurt you -- I'm not gettin' paid enough for that."

The Guards are having a rough time. With the one that was previously recognized by Gran'it grabbing a beautiful Crossbow and firing upon their position, before shouting out to the back; "INQUISITION! TO ARMS!" Followed by the sound of marching footsteps in the distance. Though his attempt at firing at Stena is for naught, as his arrow snips mid-air. "Damn shoddy craftsmanship..."

Carver throws her hood back, in the breath of seconds as the combat continues to shift and whirl. For once, she feels safe and secure. This makes her job easier as another guard falls, three arrow's red-feathers fluttering after their impact, a pool of blood spilling out. She gives another whistle, a slightly different tune, and her red steed marches gallantly to war, threatening another guard beset by both Harshad and Crick.

Warrick hisses as the fight breaks out into a full melee, him shoving off the infuriated guard as slides past Stena and kneeling, leaning down at a hard angle.

The telltale sound of a bolt snapping makes his head whip around. "Shit, sniper!" he calls out after the call for reinforcements. His own crossbow whips around, shots whistling towards the identified guard and missing, but keeping him suppressed.

Foes with crossbows were a problem. Foes at range who may or may not recognize the ruling family of the land even more so. "Moment, I'll keep them busy!" She shout back to Warrick, taking off after the crossbow wielding guard and swinging hard, a blow that manages to carry its momentum through the foe and directly to the ground, taking them with it and knocking them out cold.

Coming down the south, the group can hear them. A two squadron of Inquisitors rushing northwards. All bearing the insignia of Kor. "Stop them!" The leaders at the front of the Troops call out. "Do not permit the Heretics into this place. Protect the people!"

A second vicious shoulder-check sends the other guard sprawling to the ground. Stena looks smug, even if her pale blond-white hair is stained crimson from the blow she took moving in. She reaches up and checks her head, pulling her hand away stained with blood. "Aw, damn," She grumbles.

Crik looks in alarm behind him and caws. He gazes around rapidly, not even paying much attention to the guard getting punched prone - only pausing to smack the man with the hilt of his blade again. "It is our murder's time to fly!" He calls out to the rest of the party - then gets hit by the guard he is struggling with.

As Stena rushes the Guard, he is quick to slice at her chest - only for her to manage to get him on his ass. The man quickly gets back up and slices at Crik in the same motion, roaring out in anger as the group surrounds him. Dodging the antlers, but failing to avoid Stena's punches and Crik's dagger!

Harshad watches the foes fall around him, and grins at Gran'it. "You've got the right moves for this." But then he hears the yell of the inquisitors, and he exhales. "I don't think this bunch is going to want to negotiate." Deliberately, he tucks away his sap, before drawing his rapier and a dagger in the off hand. Stepping over one of the unconscious or dead guards, he takes up a position next to Warrick. "Hell of a place to find an entire -mob- of grumpy priests," he remarks.

Carver haroofs! The wide vocubalary of subtle hoops, whistles, and harrumps probably mean nothing to most but to her new red friend, it seems to mean something. Deathless(New friend with less death) bites onto the guard's arm, and then... it dances in victory by whirling around and spinning it's beaded tail in rapid circles.

Get distracted!

GAME: Warrick used a Flash Powder.

The Inquisitors rush in towards the crossroads of the mine. Stopping at the unconscious body of Sir Wardick, right in front of where Zofija had just nailed him with her Earth Breaker. "He's just out." "Who could have taken him out like this?" Before they all stare at Zofija, and draw their blades!

Warrick grins as Zofija takes the sniper down. "Hah! Serriel bless you!" he briskly says to her, him turning back to the sides. "Okay-"

He stops. Turns to the noise coming down the way. "Awh shit- we got company! Front line, form ranks!" he shouts, digging into a pouch and pulling out a wrapped sack. He thonks it against his helmet as it starts to glow bright before chucking it into the mass. It explodes into a brilliant flash of light, just as bright as the lightning outside! "Lay down your arms!"

The Inquisitors shield their eyes as the crack lights up. Some of them momentary blinded, but others quickly take position in front of them. "We will do no such thing, intruders!" As they point their blades towards Warrick.

That was a lot of inquisitors. Thinking quickly, the cavalier grabs the guard by the armor and starts backpedaling, quickly. "Yeah, they're unconscious. Easy, didn't take fuck all to manage." The Arvek-nar growls at the crowd of people. "If you want em to stay that way and not take a more permanent nap, then you better get some sense through those skulls of yours and stand down before I start splitting them. Someone pass me a dagger, yeah?"

GAME: Stena casts Shield. Caster Level: 4 DC: 14

Swiftly, Stena twirls away and then steps back. Briefly, she closes her eyes and for a moment there's a glimpse of a nimbus of frost wisping off her as she draws on the magic clearly inherent within her. A shimmering chilled shield of seemingly cold energy forms about her, snowflakes drifting away from her. She hefts her hammer, now, with a big old feral grin on her face.

As Zofija threatens the Captain, there's a moment of uncertainty. Frowns showing on the Inquisitors' faces. Before they realize she's still asking for a dagger. "Grab her, and grab the Captain! He would not wish for us to Hold our Blades in the face of such an Idle Threat!" And they prepare to rush her position!

Crik was panicking. Not only was there _a lot of people_ but they were also _angry_. Completely ignoring the guard he was struggling with, he shakily rummages through his cloak for anything, anything he could use.

Then he finds it. He holds it up in the air. A large, battered looking grey sphere - now with a lit fuse. "I GOT A BOMB." He calls out with a shrieking, shrill voice.

The corvid hops over the troop. "BACK AWAY I AM DEFINITELY NOT LYING IT IS A FUNCTIONAL BOMB THAT WILL DOOM US ALL."

Harshad suddenly moves, cloak fluttering, and he almost seems to appear next to the last guard. "Yeah, yeah, keep talking. Back off, we're desperate men, and so on." When the guard lashes out at the horse, Harshad just shakes his head, and sinks his rapier into the guard's flank, sending him down. "It's not good to hit someone's horse."

Carver winces, seeing the Lord's positioning. She races forward with her long legs, meeting Deathless in stride and mounting in motion with the physical ease of one just walking at a leisurely pace. The two rush toward the Lord's side, rearing up with a flash of kicking hooves then stomping down even as spears prod the side of her steed.

She extends a hand to Gran'it. "Up-Up!"

Warrick blinks as Gran'it charges first into the fray. "That's not hold the li-" There's a huff, followed by a string of Khzad curses before pulling his crossbow close to his hip and backing up to a stand. "Shit- RALLY!" Warrick yells, firing two bolts from the hip. "Focus right! Focus right!"

"Alright, they aren't listening. Get the hells out of here!" Zofija shouts, brandishing their hammer and attempting to the swing through, but the sheer mass of bodies and blades stops it in its tracks.

The Inquisitors keep pushing forwards. Blades swiping at Carver. Gran'it grabs onto Deathless' reins and gets onto the back of the steed, while waving the Glaive downwards at them. At the same time, Olrun appears at the entrance; "I knew I could not rely on you not getting into trouble." She remarks, as the woman lifts a massive Earth Breaker over her shoulder.

Now emeshed in a frantic melee, Stena turns her weapon in her hand and puts it to work. However, she's not used to fighting in such close quarters, clearly, and being *quite* so pressed on all sides. She quickly finds herself, and her choice of weapon, getting a bit overwhelmed by that.

Harshad starts backing up as the swarm of men and blades starts flowing down the corridor. "Backupbackup!" He watches Carver grab Gran'it and ride free of the inquisitorial mob, and stabs at the men in a bit of a hurry, his dagger finishing one of the inquisitors off after his rapier hamstrings the man. "Dammit! Come ON!"

Carver grimaces, as they dance just ahead of the flash of spear point's, barely escaping the press of bodies. She can feel her steed's panting breath, and even with all her training, rising fear as the smell of blood heightens... some of it her own, in the chaos of the melee.

She does not lecture Gran'it, because she knows what it's like to be reckless and seeking to do what is right. She instead just flashes him a bucktoothed grin and then sends another flurry of feathery death into the horde of Korrites.

Olrun joins the fight, glaring at Gran'it. "You must learn to handle this with greater strategy. Learn to lean on the Adventurers for their tactics!" She calls out to him as she begins swinging with her Hammer. Crushing in skulls, slamming Inquisitors to the ground. It's a violent display... and a reminder on why they call her <Warmaster> Olrun.

The Bomb gambit did not work. "Religious people are always so difficult." Crik says wistfully and then snuffs out the bomb as people rush around him. He waves at Carver rushing in and taking the poor noble lad away from the fray, and then looks at the mass of bodies.

"... for the aerie." The corvid quietly whispers - before bodies just before bodies start flying and he lets out a caw, a frantic slash, and panic as the tides of battle seem to be turning in their favor.

"Belay that!" Warrick yells back at Zofija. "Stand and deliver!"

He glances back to see Olrun join the fray before he's swarmed in a mass of blades and bodies. He gasps as lances of pain prick across his body. It's been a long, long while since he's been in a clash like this. An armored arm covers his neck out of habit. And then Olrun cleaves through most of one squad as the two meld together.

Warrick yells, charging into the thick of it as he bashes his crossbow into one's face, spinning around to staple one's chest to the floor before, briskly reloading as blades chip away at the scales of his armor, turning it to shreds.

Gran'it gets down from the horse and gets back into the fight, bringing his Glaive to bear. Cutting into one of the Inquisitors, spearing them, and then slamming them to the ground. "I can do this. You don't need to worry about me! These Adventurers are keeping me safe!"

"Come on now, attacking the guy with the crossbow? Too scared to mess with me?" The Arvek-nar taunts to the group of inquisitors. They attempt to strike the crowd again, but surrounded by so many enemies it still proved too difficult to manage.

Harshad looks exasperated. "Damn it, pride's a luxury!" He barely fends off an inquisitor's blade with his rapier, and then savagely slashes the man across the face with his dagger. "Fuck OFF with you!" The half-orc looks at the mob. "What the hell are these idiots protecting?"

Stena is finding her bearing...

... but not enough to be effective just yet. "Damn it," she howls. The sense, the visual cue, of frost arround her intensifeis to the point where glimmering little snowflakes are drifting off her. Magic, you know.

Still, she's at least not being fully overwhelmed herself.

Crik wasn't much of a brawler or a soldier, it was obvious, as he waves his knife around the melee. Mostly, he was trying to keep track of the frantic chaos. "Whatever they found!" He answers Harshad. "Something that drives them into fervor-CAW!" Another cut onto the corvid's side.

Warrick gasps in pain as his armor isn't holding up anymore, blood caking the ground. He rips free a longsword, hacking in all directions. "Serriel fucking guide us!" he hoarsely yells. He wasn't looking good at all, as he tries to carve his way out of the mass of inquisitors.

The Inquisitors swipe and slice at Warrick, Crik and Zofija, trying to put them down before the Adventurers can put up a proper resistance. "Do not let them pass!" One calls out. "Do not permit Heretics upon these grounds!"

"There you go! Almost putting up a fight eh?" The Arvek-nar snarls, shoving a few people out of the way to finally give themselves enough room to swing. With all other attempts failing, the cavalier decides to go high. With one massive swing, Zofija smashes several of the inquisitors to the ground. Those remaining that were not struck by the weapons head are brought directly into the side of the tunnel along with the haft of the hammer, and there's a sickening crack of bone as the arvek-nar shoves her entire weight into it.

Carver slips off her horse, bracing her forehead against Deathless for a few seconds. To calm her or the steed? Unclear. Then she walks to Warrick, fishing into her chestpiece before drawing out a small vial. "We... should have brought a wand of healing. Drink up, Pops."

As the battlefield quiets, so do the mines. The sound of bats flying somewhere returns. The sound of mining in the far distance. The corpses of Inquisitors on the ground, and the unconscious bodies of guards.

Olrun gives Zofija a firm nod of acknowledgement, and then remarks; "I will not be coming back, I am going to prepare the boat. Don't make me regret coming in here to help you all." She reminds roughly, and then turns around and heads back.

Gran'it sheepishly rubs the back of his head and looks at the others. "Sorry about the trouble you guys. But that's gotta have been the worst of it. It's quiet now. It should be smooth sailing from here."

Stena sags now that the fighting is done. She's almost disappointed. She moves towards the bodies of the inquisitors and nudges one with her foot. "Hm. Oh well," she adds, giving herself a shake off as she looks further into the mine. "Welp," she says, clutching the side of her head, "I don't think we've got a lot of time."

"You," She points at the Arvek-nar, "I like you," she tells them.

Crik was definitely not expecting a literal blood bath entering into the mines. "... one does not sail in the mines." Then there's a pause, and he holds up his bloody black beak. "It would be a real mire."

Swiping his blade clean, he starts rummaging through the clothes of the inquisitors. "... perhaps diguise ourselves as one of them?" He suggests to the group. Well, he was going to steal one of their cloaks, anyway.

Warrick falls to a knee, panting as Zofija clears out the rest of them. "Good... work..." Looking up and over and Carver, he weakly smiles and shakes his head. "Thanks kid, but I'm going to need to hang back a bit," he answers, taking it and handing the vial to Crik. "Got to cover the entrance and make sure there's no reinforcements."

"Thanks for the assist ma'am," he nods to Olrun before looking at the Lord, him picking up loose bolts scattered on the ground. "With all due respect, sir. Take care when breaking rank. That is all."

Carver just throws her hands up in frustration at Warrick, who could not be convinced. She goes back to her horse to try to clean her wounds the best she can before they have to move on. Likely very soon.

Zofija takes her hammer as the bodies pinned by it fall to the floor, and takes stock of the room. "Afraid I don't have any more healing potions on me, stupid thing to do." The arvek-nar grumbles. "Well, at least I'm likeable."

"I get it, thanks for the help." She adds to the departing warrior, before turning her attention to G'ranit. "With all due respect, while we're here, you're one of us. Remember that. And don't get excited till we're finished." She adds gravely. "I say we should check where those groups come from. If that's where they're staying, there's a good chance they've got a guardhouse nearby, might find keys there for freeing folks."

Carver seperates from Deathless with a shake of her head, "They felt, to their bones, they were 'protecting' something and the people below. Not sure what to make't. Don't think we the bad guys... but, heh, guess we're in too deep to be worryin' now. Gonna be harder from here on out though so... let's make sure we don't take anymore risks, all of us." She squints, nose wrinkling as Crik gathers cloaks for them to disguise in. "Righ'. Uh. Maybe they got keys on 'em."

-To Be continued-