Rise of the Eclipse

Sirælic sighed out in what seemed to be boredom as the Count of Rotturm finally returned from the room in the back of his personal quarters. The Half-Elf had been waiting for sometime, arriving only a few minutes after another Desert-Garb clad wanderer exited the building, to this he almost thought he'd tag along with the figure, but as fate had it, he was stuck waiting for another hour and a half as the Count had to attend a small meeting with his advisory council. The room they were meeting in certainly wasn't one for a Count, a small, humble setting fit for a merchant's quarters rather than a Count. Though, life has ways of forcing the most privileged to deal with circumstances they wish to not, doesn't it? Securing his headscarf, the Half-Elf nodded at the Count, only his violet-eyes being seen with the slightest of ashen-grey skin flaring the colourful eyes more so. The Count in turn motioned towards the table in the middle of the room as he pointed down to a small map of the ducal landscape. "Sorry for the wait, but I do know you read the posting for the job so I'll make this quick and to the point." With that, Sirælic began to lean towards the map and in his mind a small voice echoed within it, reminding him he sadly was not rid of the voices in his head after all. "Thank the Gods above, I've been stuck in this sheath for over an entire night, this job had better get me used." With the voice done, Sirælic sighed out loud as he rubbed his forehead, speaking back to the blade as he nodded at the Count to speak."I practiced with you just yesterday, will you NOT go on about how I don't use you enough?" the blade, "Kraigsworn", the black blade bound to Sirælic gave a chuckle out in the Half-Elf's mind as the Count spoke of the details of the job in a quick fashion and how the last adventurer would arrive shortly. "You dare tell I?! Kraigsworn the destroyer of a-" "You sound about as intimidating as an baby Orc." "I'll have you know baby Orcs are terrifying" "Oh right! You were teethed on by one once weren't you? "Shut i-" The Count cleared his throat as the Half-Elf shook his head from the argument the two were having.

"As...I was saying...you can leave now if you so wish, or wait for the other, doesn't matter to I. So, I'll be awaiting great results from you, I've prepared you a horse and it should be awaiting you outside, good day." The Count took himself up and motioned for Sirælic to exit and he did so, leaving into the main hall where his mind began to echo of a voice, before the Half-Elf swatted his sheath and continued to exit the building. Taking a quick look over of his gear, he tightened his clothing and belts to adventure onwards down the road to the fishing village that was under attack from...shit he forgot. The blade almost cried, if a supposed to be inanimate object could cry, laughing out in his brain as the elf rubbed his temples as he mounted his horse and went on the somewhat lengthy trail to Silverbrook. It wasn't completely his fault he forgot, it was mostly Kraigsworns for distracting him from actually listening to the Count. The trip itself to the town took a short time, with the pace he set himself to walk, it wasn't to hard to finally come into viewing distance of the village, which really should be called a well-sized town. The closer he came, the more he saw the makeshift, pitiful defences, either the Farmers really were over paranoid about a few darkspawn attacking or something very large or very numerous was attacking, which meant more money hopefully, well that or more hardship on his part.

Pacing upon outer barricades he stopped as a lanky man with very muddy hair appeared upon the walls. "Aye! Boss'sur I believe 'is be one of 'em adventurers the 'ast lady talked about!" With that shout obviously ringing out through the camp, another lad appeared upon the wall to motion him into the city. "'Tis nice to see, more adventurous folk to aid us! Come in!" With that, the Half-Elf didn't even need to speak as he walked into the town, the "Boss" taking him upon a small tour of the walls before pointing to a chapel not to far from the walls. "Yer fellow adventurer is in there, waiting for the blessed father, just head on in he won't be too much longer." Giving the man a nod, Sirælic then continued on his way to the Chapel, among the muddy walls and somewhat filthy streets. Maybe, just maybe whomever was in the Chapel KNEW what they were doing. Yet life, again isn't easy and likes to be a pain when it should be easy. Sirælic knows this, so he sighed out and continued to the doors looking them over before pushing into the cool air of the rudimentary chapel.

Amira only looked up briefly from her work when the first of her new comrades in arms arrived. In truth, she had actually noticed the particular fellow when she had was leaving the count's "office," as it were, and now as then she found it intriguing to see another foreigner in these lands. That said, it also wouldn't be the first time that someone had dressed in desert garb just because it was convenient for hiding one's identity. Still, no sense coming to conclusions and she simply gave him a respectful nod with a light, "Glad you could make it," before continuing to check all the little screws and gears on the crossbow, just making sure they were all nice and tight.

That said, when the third member of their party arrived, she may have been completely content waiting to actually get moving to first introductions once they knew what was going on, it seemed the full-armored fellow (a paladin or a cleric she presumed) wanted to chat. Well, suppose it made sense, since 'Father Merton' hadn't arrived. Finishing with one last really good bolt tighten, she replied as she started putting tools away into her bag of holding, "Aye. Are there any others behind you?" When the answer turned out to be a 'no,' she huffed a little bit before looking up at the armored human, stating with a somewhat despondent expression, "Well, it wouldn't be worthwhile if it was easy. You can call me Amira."

They wouldn't have much time for anything beyond introductions for the time being, because rather abruptly the doors would be flung open as a somewhat elderly human cleric (probably about mid fifties) came striding in, his once-lovely religious robes muddied with all manner of filth, including blood. At his side his mace looked heavily used, only his holy symbol of Pelor remaining untouched, though that was probably out of actual effort. His eyes had bags heavy enough to carry weapons and his eyes were practically bloodshot--he probably hadn't slept in days. "Thank Pelor!" the man exclaimed, his voice laden with exhaustion as he walked in, wiping his brow rather fruitlessly (spreading the muddy sweat around rather than removing anything), "I didn't think the count would send anyone for us." Of course, he was a little slow to realize what all he had available to him, but while he didn't pay much attention to the sandfolk, his eyes lit up a little bit when he spotted Bryman, letting out a relieved sigh as he approached him, giving a very respectful bow despite technically being the paladin's elder, "I'm Father Merton, and you have no idea how happy I am to see one of the faith here, brother. I'll take any comfort I can get."

Of course, while she wasn't one to cut off joys of such sorts, Amira wasn't eager to let this drag on too much just for the sake of getting their job done and not endangering the people any more than necessary--especially considering the state of things. Getting up and going over to join the clergymen, she cleared her throat before asking in a very business-like tone, "So, what troubles your town, Merton? You look as if preparing for a siege."

The man remembered himself fairly quickly at that and turned to address the whole group wiping his eyes a little bit... only to immediately regret that decision judging from the wince of pain that elicited. "Ah... that's... not far from the truth. We're besieged by the undead," he revealed plainly, looking at them with fear in his eyes, his hands shaking as he fumbled with them, "This is the fourth night of it--we'd been losing people to the forest prior and that was what we originally sent runners for, but now we can't even get word out. Frankly, I'm amazed you weren't accosted on the way in." Chewing on his lip, he rubbed his eyebrows, leaning against one of the pews with a long sigh. "They come each night as a horde... and the worst part is that they're supplemented by demons!" He looked to the group with fear in his eyes, his entire expression quivering as he told it in an absolute certainty, "Lower demons mostly, but they have proven nearly impossible to kill, and whether by instinct or design they have started targeting any clergy. When it started, I had three deacons I was training. Now they're gone and I'm having to keep protection spells on me during the assaults just to stay alive. I'm not certain how much longer we can hold out--the spikes seem to have stopped the assaults for now, but it's only a matter of time until they send more at us."

After a few moments for questions, he added something else, "There's... another thing. We think we know who the culprit is. Just before this all started, a... tiefling woman passed through the area, purchased some common alchemical ingredients and spell components. Didn't think much of it until zombies started coming for us. We've seen her out in the forest since this started, and..." For the first time since meeting him the cleric's eyes flashed in anger, pure righteous fury radiating from the man as he thought about the creature that had ruined his town and killed so many of his flock, "She needs to die."

"Not from what I understand," the paladin replied to Amira, watching as she put her tools away. He idly wondered if it was enchanted, much as his was - it was hard to tell at this distance. "The Count led me to believe the three of us were all he could find."

Bryman ignored Sirælic's groan as the other two adventurers introduced themselves. That and the brief interruption, the slap of his sword's sheath, seemed to indicate that the man wasn't all there, as it were. Maybe Amira would be right: this had all the makings of a task as worthwhile as it was difficult. "Bryman Tarlach," he intoned when it was his turn to introduce himself. The human kept it short, spared his apparent comrades the titles he usually appended to the end of his name. There would be plenty of time for those later--not that the sudden appearance of the Father Merton would have allowed him to get through 'of Avenshire, Pelorian Crusader' without interruption. What a well-timed entrance, he thought briefly, taken aback at Father Merton's state. He wondered if the man had gotten any time to rest in the last several days; it certainly didn't look like it.

Keeping a relatively neutral expression, Bryman smiled and reciprocated the Father's gesture. He was about to open his mouth to ask after the situation, the cleric's state, and offer his support when Amira did the same; she'd beaten him to it by a heartbeat. He understood her hurry and certainly sympathized: things were clearly dire and idle chitchat would have served no purpose. He listened intently as Merton described the situation, realizing with every word just what he'd signed up for. Lesser demons? Those would prove to be some issue, indeed - much more than any number of undead likely would have been. What was so important about Silverbrook to warrant this much attention?

"I--Father, that hardly seems very Pelorian of you," Bryman said as mildly as he could allow himself to, trying to disguise his surprise at Father Merton's sudden venom and rage as he addressed the matter of the tiefling. Though, in truth, it shook him deeply to see a cleric who knew the tenets of his faith as well as Bryman did to display such open desire for violence, it simply wouldn't have done to make too much a scene, to openly call the Father out, in front of the uninitiated. Pelor's dogma called for the cleansing of evil, but in moderation: compassion and goodness took priority where possible. Responsible or not, openly calling for another's death hardly seemed compassionate or good.

But Bryman also recognized that for the Father to have been in such a state, things must have been dire indeed. He put a hand on Merton's shoulder, looking to reassure the older man, remind him of the callings of his faith. "Pelor's light cleanses, but is not a harsh light lest it need be. But," he continued, speaking from a place that was equal parts firmness, understanding, and support, "this is clearly a time of such need. Rest assured: the undead threatening Silverbrook will be exterminated. Justice for the tragedies wrought here meted out to those responsible. I will see to it myself, if I must." Not his most inspiring speech, but maybe it would work. He needed to see for himself before he decided about this tiefling, but there was no sense ruling out the possibility that she was involved. The timing was too convenient for there not to be some truth to Merton's claim that she was behind it.

With the Priest having taken his lecture from the large, armoured man and from Amira, Siraelic simply shrugged in a motion to the clerical man as to say he really didn't have anything else to add on. Continuing to exit the chapel, Sira marveled at his companions outfit. Unlike himself, they certainly came prepared beyond what himself was. He came garbed in his usual clothing and armour, with little but his belts of supplies and Kragisworn, who wouldn't shut up about the horrendous condition the makeshift weaponry of the peasantry was in. Commenting about the disappointing blotches of rust upon blades and even saying how he pitied the blunt weaponry. Though Kraigsworn began to quiet down as they traveled further into town towards the tavern.

The tavern itself was interesting enough, being almost empty was quite a site. Usually, among the many taverns Siraelic has visited, the place is filled with drunkards who care only to brawl, mercenaries awaiting hire, guildsman, anyone willing to be bought for a good swig of ale. Even more interesting was the barkeep, who almost instantly caught the eye of Siraelic and the attention of his sword. It actually didn't take long for the Half-Elf to make his way to the barkeep, he simply listened in on the Priest and the Kid, Alaric converse, from his revelation that his liege actually cares about the town to the Priest lecturing him upon how alcoholism is not a habit to get into, Sira took the talk to make his way to the counter. Keeping the mission at hand in mind, he kept his ear back towards the kid who readily readied himself to brief the group on where exactly the undead were.

The barkeep was performing small tasks, cleaning mugs and refilling the one fellow's mug several times over before Sira finally leaned upon the wooden counter top. The barkeep eyed him and sighed placing a mug back near a row of them before talking to him as she continued pacing around behind the bar. "So sir overly dressed, I assume you're our not-so armoured saviours? I thought you'd look a bit more like the chap to the rear of 'ya." Bryman certainly did look like the fabled "Knight in Shining Armour" he was just missing the horse. Siraelic gave out a small chuckle, attempting to give her a smile before realising she couldn't see his face, or anything of him besides his eyes. Though, unlike him, the barkeep was visible, brown hair, tanned skin, golden eyes. Though, Kraigsworn soon reminded Siraelic that she would gut him if she saw he looked like a Drow. Damn, Kraigsworn was always a buzzkill. Siraelic finally spoke out, sighing to himself at his blade's commentary. "At least I'm here aye? I think I'll have a better chance at surviving a dangerous quest into demonic territory than the poor sods who can barely wield a scythe rather than a blade." The barkeep gave him a look, maybe making a jib at her friends and family trying to survive wasn't a good idea. Then she gave a laugh and continued to point down towards Siraelic's group. "I'll give you a wager, come back alive from your lil' adventure and I'll give you the time to talk to me, but now I have a job and you aren't exactly putting on a great impression to begin with, try again when you come back." with that she gave a smug smirk, leaving to care for a refill on the same man as last, leaving Siraelic to deal with Kraigsworn.

"You, my dear user, just got a face full of rejection." Siraelic huffed a tad and began his walk back to the group to see Alaric pointing out various areas upon the map, and his blush with Amira congratulating him. With his reentry, he simply acted as if nothing happened and took his place by Bryman to view where he was previously pointing, getting himself updated upon where the undead supposedly were.

Amira certainly didn't like the idea of fighting something so powerful that it ignored all but the greatest of holy weapons, but if that was the case, she was pretty certain that her only recourse would be to flee like a noble caught in the nude. Still, she gave a quick "Thank you," for the information and, once they were into the bar she started making sure that she had some cold iron bolts at the ready in case she needed them. Inside the tavern, she couldn't help but feel exasperated by their other party member's attempts to flirt with the bartender, not because he was doing that in and of itself (though she took note of it for the future), but just the simple situation of timing. These people might not survive tomorrow! Show a little courtesy! Well, so much for having a party of consummate professionals; not that that was a big surprise.

Still, it was good to see the maps and she was pretty quick to start analyzing them alongside him, trying to get a feel for where these landmarks actually were. She was no ranger, in fact she wasn't great at navigating without maps, but if she had a reference she was alright. As the paladin went about comforting the boy, he chuckled awkwardly about the paladin's comment, but he seemed to genuinely appreciate the assurances regardless. The reason he seemed to mention the rock was because it had regular patrols of the undead as well, though looking at the direction that they were coming from and the way things were situated, it was probably just a rendezvous point. She was in the midst of these thoughts when the womanizing swordsman returned and Bryman spoke up, which earned a 'hmmm...' out of her as she examined it.

"Well, I'd prefer to not face the main tide of the monsters. We're outnumbered badly enough that we want this fight to be unfair as possible... For them I mean." Scoffing at her comment, she started looking around the map asking Alaric thoughtfully, "Do either of these places have caverns?"

"My master said that Dragon Hill is full of them. Sentinel Rock... not that I know of."

And he knew that place like the back of his hand, so that was just more confirmation that that wasn't the source. Alright, and they had the rough paths that the creatures took and the location of the tiefling's camp. Again, Amira wasn't convinced that she was the source, but if she was out there she might have some degree of knowledge on the matter. "Well... hopefully the caverns interconnect, so if we take it from the back we'll be able to catch them in their rear guard. We'll be able to investigate this tiefling along the way too. Of course, once we get the necromancer's attention, regardless of who it is, that'll draw the undead back. Good news for the town, bad news for us, but hopefully if we kill their master that'll knock them out... hopefully." There was no need to say what would happen if she was wrong. She looked to them, hoping they would correct her (or confirm for her) on that idea; magic wasn't her area of expertise, not in the slightest. Still, regardless of that, she'd add, "If you have any objections, speak now."

Once they decided on a course of action, she asked the boy to take the map (which he eagerly allowed), and told them as they made their first steps, "Well no time like the present." With that, they left the tavern and headed over the southern "wall" of the town and started making their way into the forest, Amira acting as their guide (if nobody else took that job). Within minutes they would have been able to see their first zombie, though it was well away from them, just standing in a clearing many hundreds of yards away. If one of them tried to go for it, she would quickly warn them of the possibility of traps, though she herself couldn't deny that she wanted the thing back in the ground. Interestingly, not all of the zombies were human but rather animals in some cases... and others weren't necessarily zombies. There was one point where she spotted something that looked to be moving far too fast for a zombie (thankfully along the main patrol paths), and when it found a rabbit it jumped on it and seemed to kill it merely by holding it.

Once they stopped having regular encounters with them though, she felt comfortable enough to speak, though she still kept herself hushed as she turned to the other members of her party. Her conscience had been eating at her for a little bit, mostly on the fact that she was still masked with the people she'd be fighting alongside, but there wasn't a good time to explain her situation, since she didn't want them to just see her change and go 'WEREWOLF! KILL IT!' First off though... she wanted to keep herself safe. "So, Siraelic, where are you from?" she asked innocently enough. Obviously she was listening for her homeland, but when that didn't come, she internally breathed a sigh of relief and went about undoing her headscarf, stowing it in her bag once she was done. It felt good to feel the wind in her hair... though she was eager to add her fur to that, despite the formalities that needed to be taken care of first. "Sorry about the suspicious outfit, but the people who knew me back home think I'm dead, and considering... well I'd prefer if it stayed that way," she explained as she straightened out her ponytail and got some hair out of her face. That said, once she was free of it, they might have noticed that her neck had a somewhat peculiar appearance to it, like she had peach fuzz, and the very tip of her ear was a peculiar golden color. As it happened, she hadn't done a good job of disguising herself as human. Then, she paused and turned to them to properly reveal herself, explaining with a very obviously nervous expression, chewing on her lip as she tried to figure out how best to word it (despite doing this several times, she could never get it right), "Unfortunately, my hearing and smell are awful as a human and we kind of need both right now, so I'm going to change into my proper guise. Please don't panic, I'm not a lycanthrope, I'm in complete control and can shift whenever I like." With that, she shifted into her proper, foxy form, her tail popping out from the bottom of her armor (though barely seen past her cloak), and her face stretching and morphing into position before finally coming to rest into her natural kitsune body. She didn't change in size any, her body was still that of a humanoid female, the only difference was that it was all foxified. Her ears were tucked back nervously as she looked at them, hoping that they wouldn't get too freaked out. Actually, she wasn't worried about the paladin, but that unhinged swordsman was at least worthy of keeping an eye on. Still, she kept her crossbow shouldered and just looked at them, flashing them a nervous, thin smile with her ears still tucked back and her tail wrapped around her legs. "So... that's my big secret. I'm a fox-person." Yep, that was her only secret. The only one she had. Yep. Totally.

Assuming neither of them got too panicked about it, she quickly perked back up (though not quite what one would call happy, considering the situation) and told them with her crossbow in a relaxed position in front of her, "Sorry for holding us up, just wanted to get that out of the way. Shall we continue?" If they had any questions, she would gladly answer them, but she wanted to keep moving. The less time they spent in Zombiewoods, the better.

(Work in progress.)

Fae certainly hadn't been expecting the turn of events that had occurred shortly after her arrival in the area, but damned if the tiefling could bring herself to just up and leave, even if that would have been the wisest decision. It all began four days ago when she'd passed through that hole-in-the-wall town, stopping just long enough to pick up some provisions at the local general store. As usual she'd received some 'less than pleasant' looks from the townsfolk as she moved through the town, no friendly smiles, no greetings or welcomes, just untrusting stares. Even the shopkeep was silent and deadpan as she purchased her wears, only breaking the silence to tell her what she owed for what all she bought, and unsurprisingly she paid more than what the items were usually worth... Fae had long since grown used to this treatment by now however, and she snubbed the townsfolk just as callously as they snubbed her, in less than ten or fifteen minutes she'd bought what she needed and had moved on. The tiefling's real goal actually lay a couple of miles beyond the town. 'Dragon Hill' it was called, and it conjured up a fair amount of talk in the area. Of course it seemed every region had it's stories and legends, half of them probably conjured up by drunks and people with too much time on their hands, but none-the-less Fae often liked to investigate these places herself, because every once in awhile she'd discover the rumors and myths weren't just rumors and myths... Talk of dragons especially piqued the woman's curiosity. Most folks generally liked to stay away from the creatures, but Fae was the exact opposite, she tended to seek them out. The ones that didn't immediately try to kill you or outright blow you off could often offer extremely valuable insight to a number of topics, but the topic that always interested Fae most was magic. Even if the dragon(s) that supposedly frequented Dragon Hill were hostile, Fae could possibly nick a few items from their hoard when they were out and about, to at least make the trip worth it. Worst case scenario was that all the talk of the place was just that, talk, and that the hill was just a boring mound of dirt.

Upon her arrival at the scene, Fae didn't find any dragons, but she did find the entrance to a cave in the side of the hill. With a few hours of daylight still remaining, the tiefling went ahead and poked around inside a little bit. She'd quickly discover that this cave wasn't just a simple cave, the textures of the walls and ceiling were extremely unusual, like nothing Fae had ever seen before. Every now and again she'd stumble upon what was obviously meant as offerings to the dragons, and some of the stuff was surprisingly valuable, or at least it was if it came from people like those in the town two miles back. One or two gold pieces here and there may have not been much to the likes of her, but it could be quite a substantial amount to a peasant farmer. "Hmmph, a fool and their gold are soon parted... the tiefling muttered to herself as she picked up and pocketed a few of the trinkets before moving on. A little deeper in she also ran into a nastier surprise...undead. Not a hoard of them thankfully, just one or two here or there, easily dispatched with a bit of magic, but the fact they were present at all told Fae she was dealing with something nasty, and that she needed to tread lightly. All in all, she ended up not going very deep that first day, the last thing she wanted was for a dragon to return to the cave and find her snooping around, her pockets lined with trinkets meant for it...

Luck saved Fae that night, instead of camping near the entrance to the cave, she'd ended up setting up her camp far off to the side around the base of the hill a bit, out of sight of the entrance. She'd been asleep for a couple of hours already when she heard it, a loud, inhuman wail that pierced the stillness of the night and ripped her from her slumber. Nothing set off the alarm spells or rune traps she'd cast around her camp's perimeter, but none-the-less Fae had been quick to exit her small tent and throw her armor back on, a few more horrible shrieks sounding as she did so. Moving quietly, the tiefling cautiously made her way a short ways around the base of the hill, what she'd find upon coming back into view of the entrance was rather alarming to say the least. Undead, lots of them, and not just the near harmless zombies she'd run into in the cave earlier. Undead knights, mohgs, and a few other varieties of undead were present in the mass amongst the typical shamblers. If that wasn't bad enough, there were several demons amongst their ranks, lesser ones sure, but demons none the less. Fae had seen plenty of undead in her travels, but never had she seen such a concentrated, organized mass before, accompanied by demons no less, and it was blatantly clear they were making their way towards the small town she'd passed through earlier that day. The woman was quick to duck low and conceal herself appropriately as she watched the progression, as she certainly had no desire to become the focus of the mob. For several minutes Fae watched them, the sheer number of horrific shrieks and wails chilling her to the bone, and just like that, they'd all shuffled from sight. What had caused this she wondered? She hadn't seen anything leading them unless the lesser demons were responsible, no necromancers or dragons, and certainly if a dragon was responsible she'd have heard it swoop in, Fae wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper after all. As the shrieks grew more and more distant before eventually disappearing altogether, allowing the usual sounds of night to return, Fae returned to her campsite and immediately proceeded to double her perimeter defenses before returning to her bedroll and trying to get some sleep. The tiefling felt that, given her camp was well out of sight of the entrance to the hill and lacked a fire to draw attention to it, she'd be safe from the horde when and if it returned. Unsurprisingly restful sleep was fleeting that night, and she slept in her armor just to be on the safe side, fully prepared to make a hasty getaway if need be.

Fae was up before dawn, and it was when she was partaking of her morning breakfast when she heard them return... The tiefling was quick to scramble out of her tent and make her way back to the vantage point she'd observed the horde from earlier, and when she reached it she was surprised to find a great deal of those that headed out did not return. All of the skeletons and basic zombies were nowhere to be seen, all that remained were the stronger undead and demons, and even a healthy amount of those looked a bit roughed up. Seemed the towns people had put up a hard fight, but some smoke billowing in the distance told Fae that, more than likely, the town had been wiped out. As soon as the survivors of the horde disappeared back into the cave, the woman quickly trekked the few miles back to town. Sure enough, the scene that met her was a grizzly one, bodies of both the once-living and undead littered the fields surrounding the town, not to mention the streets of the town itself. Several buildings had been reduced to smoldering ruins, many townsfolk still hurrying to put out the dying flames. The pitiful excuse for a town guard that was present were busying themselves salvaging whatever equipment they could from the dead, while the local priest and his clergy were doing what they could for the wounded and giving the dead their final rites. The tiefling may have been callous and self-centered, but even she felt these people didn't deserve this, that all said, Fae wasn't about to go down there and attempt to lend aid. She wasn't stupid, many wouldn't believe it to be mere coincidence that a woman with demon blood in her passed through their humble town mere hours before being besieged, and Fae felt it would be best if she kept away and out of sight. With that, the woman turned on her heels and made the trek back to her camp.

Now, the wisest thing she could have done in this situation would have been to pack up her things and put as much distance between her and Dragon Hill as possible, but the allure of what may lay within it's depths was too strong for the woman to ignore. Of course Fae was well aware that to go gallivanting into the depths of those caves unprepared was asking to be killed, fortunately she had a few spells within the pages of her spellbook that would aid her in her endeavors. After getting herself seated and comfortable, Fae cracked open said book and began flipping through the pages to find what she was looking for. The tiefling hadn't had to deal with the undead in quite some time, so unsurprisingly the spells she had in her book that dealt specifically with them had long since faded from memory. Fortunately it didn't take a great deal of effort for Fae to find what she was looking for, and she'd spend a bit of time refreshing herself on the handful of spells she had available. Luckily none of them really required much in the way of exotic ingredients, she had everything she needed to perform them on hand.  Returning to the seemingly deserted entrance of Dragon Hill, Fae weaved her magic and casted a spell on herself meant to make her near invisible to the undead before delving once more into it's depths...  While there were certainly more undead present than there had been the previous day, the tiefling couldn't find anything that hinted at what caused them to leave Dragon Hill in the first place.  While she was immensely curious, just knowing what resided somewhere in the depths of the cave system encouraged her to take it slow, even slower than she had the previous day when there didn't seem to be any noticeable danger.  She'd not end up going very deep that day, instead electing to retreat back to camp well before dark as a precaution.  The decision ended up being a good one, for not long after the sun set that day another monstrous horde appeared from within the depths of Dragon Hill and marched into the woods, presumably to finish what they had started the previous night. 

Fae didn't bother checking on the town the next morning, believing it impossible that it could have survived another assault, instead she'd once again press into the depths of the cave system a few hours after the horde disappeared back within them.  Despite pushing deeper and re-investigating some previously surveyed area's, the tiefling still didn't find the source of the undead hordes, though the deeper she pushed the more undead she found shambling about.  The third day saw her return to the acid pools and the discovery of yet more dense clusters of undead, even a lesser demon (which she thankfully avoided earning the attention of), but still no indications of what was making them launch coordinated attacks out of the hill in the first place.  Knowing darkness would be upon her soon, an aggravated Fae eventually called it quits and returned topside, at least looking forward to the prospect of quieting her growling stomach with a bit of supper...

The reaction Siraelic garnered out of the woman earned him a smirk, it wasn't exactly on purpose but it was certainly hilarious to see her flush and flounder about like a fish out of water. Though it didn't last too long before they had begun the trek yet again, onward into who knew where on a wild-tiefling chase to destroy zombies. Fun or so Kraigsworn had kept spouting into Siraelic's thoughts as he planned the grand destruction of all the undead within the region, to become bloodied upon their rotten flesh, Siraelic though, simply smacked his sheath and continued the trek as Kraigsworn muttered in the Half-Elf's thoughts. Though this silence hadn't lasted long until a few batches of the undead roamed by, with the quick hushing from the Vixenthrope in front of them Siraelic immedietly understood that they couldn't really risk drawing the entire undead horde upon them this close to their objective, or so he hoped they were so close, he had just been following the female in front of him in hopes she actually knew where she was going, thoughts digressed, Kraigsworn on the other hand, had some choice words for Sira. "Sir, dear swordsman user, may I suggest we destroy those damned rotten corpses? I do feel the itch to be swung into flesh! Siraelic sighed out loud to himself, just to hit his sheath, replying with something a bit of what could be sass within his thoughts. "Look Kraig...I don't want to burst your bubble, but no, not after your last fiasco you put me in so please just shut up.

The rest of the trek was relatively quiet, Kraigsworn finally keeping his thoughts to himself until they reached the small outlook the Fox-Lady had tracked down. Her comment upon not running into any glyphs made Sira smile to himself as he ran through his memories to ensure he himself wouldn't run into any on the off chance there were any within the camp, during his travels across the continent he certainly has ran into his fair share of magical traps that he just barely had survived, though he still wasn't too adept at finding them. This led to a certainly painful encounter with a rune that he glanced upon, it wasn't long enough to cause any major pain, but enough to cause a cackle from Kraig for Siraelic being so gullible as to glance upon a magical rune.

Other than that, he simply followed the foxy female and didn't do too much besides study some of the surrounding camp, hilariously enough it seemed simplistic. Kraigsworn had been giving Siraelic thoughts of such a grand encampment he almost believed the overdramatic sword. Almost.