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As the group made their preparations, Rebecca finished up her dealings with the dead. One of the Konstantinovs spoke up as she turned to the vampiric assassins. Of course, it was Zehra. She had managed to survive the battle, though with now rapidly healing wounds in different places across her face and limbs. It seemed ghouls tried to gang up on her, and she had to fight her way through them by hand.

"We will depart now, as we have done what we've promised. I hope your future battles deeper into the castle are easier than the one that just occurred." she stated, giving the Saint a nod, before looking to the others. "I wish you all good health, and safe travels. Perhaps I will see you again... hopefully long after this war has ended, in more peaceful times."

"Hopefully." responded Rebecca, with her own nod. "Selamün aleyküm."

Zehra was surprised by Rebecca speaking her native language, then smiled before looking back to her fellow Konstantinovs and motioning them to head for the exit. They did as instructed, giving each of them a nod or wave as they passed. Soon enough, the Konstantinovs had all vanished, leaving through the large opening they had blown in the entrance with dynamite. Rebecca then turned back to the rest of the group.

"Let's get moving. Keep an eye out for any surprises. They may have laid traps further in to deter us." she stated, locating her shield and reequipping it. Riberta, who had now chugged down half of a punch bowl's worth of blood, was on the move as well, following after Rebecca alongside Cassandra. The group gathered together, with Jakob exchanging a few words with his companions before following after as well.

The inner halls and rooms of the old dwarven fortress were as massive and grand as the outside had been. This was a true castle, in every way. But instead of going up and outwards, however, it went inwards and down. Deep into the ground, creating dark tunnels and a labyrinth of corridors. They had to rely on Rebecca for the time being, using her Saintly powers to locate and feel their way towards the artifacts. It was clear that there were others down in these tunnels, as the group could hear the sounds of yelling and detonations as they descended further into the depths.

Soon, they would find themselves exiting out onto a landing in a massive cave. Lava flowed beneath them in large rivers, granting ambient light to the entire room. "I've heard of places like this before." said Rebecca, before Riberta spoke up.

"Dwarven forges. Using the world's primal methods of heat and pressure to create truly remarkable objects and items." said the hybrid. "I've been here...twice, I think? Both times had me chunking an idiot over the edge into the magma below... Thankfully, both times I can say that the man actually deserved that kind of death."
 
Continuing forwards into the heart of the fortress without backup was going to make things harder, but Constantine figured it was inevitable given how many of their number fell to the swarm of enemies before. As they went further and further, the heat began to rise and make him feel discomfort. Pretty soon the source of the heat was made apparent from the flow of lava beneath them. The ambient lighting created by the rivers of molten rock reminded him of those industrialized corners of the Abyss filled with forges bellowing smoke and creating the instruments of war that now tear that realm apart. Not the most comforting memories.

"Looks like a big drop." He looked down to the lava bellow "Do you think their brain got fried before they made a splash?"
 
Aleister assisted the group as directed before they moved on, saying prayers and mending a few wounds. While he remained proficient in the latter, he could not say the same for the former. There was a deep irony to it, he knew. He had been proclaimed an Archbishop, the head of an entire splinter church up in Nocturne, and yet in his ears his own prayers always rang hollow. Each word tasted too bitter, too foreign. Once he could recite entire prayerbooks with the heat of a blast-furnace... now he was lucky to stand up against the draft of a lone candle upon a winter night. Whether it was faith he had lost, or something else, he was not certain. Everywhere he turned his soul he could taste naught but the ash of misery. Perhaps he was merely smothered in it, darkened in soot like a chimney sweep. A poor form for a priest.

Downwards they went as if they traveled to the very Abyss itself. Aleister was not certain of his feelings on the others with the group, though he found this little surprising given he knew them not. The Living Saint too, even, a beacon and a paragon, though he simply lacked the delicacy of faith to keep him grounded; though the more he considered it, perhaps he was simply too grounded, buried in the filthy soil like another gravemarker. At the very least, some of the words from the likes of Camille had, in an odd way, rekindled the warmth that once burned within him.

"A charming locale," Aleister remarked dryly as they entered the large cavern, strewn with the harsh flow of molten magma, hot enough to discomfort him even from afar. "With all this rock above, a shame we can't collapse it all. Bring the world entire down upon those who dwell here."
 
"Would be a shame to destroy all of this." Azathor remarked to Aleister, "Marvels in constructions lost to the chaotic forces of destruction would be a damned shame if I say so myself." Aathor had remained silent thus far as the group pushed deeper into the abandoned dwarven settlement, finding himself enamored by the amount of craftsmanship that had been once been used to indicate a greatly industrious people. To now be in the hands of such vile enemies was itself a crime that they were here to rectify now. The heat didn't disturb him as much as he thought it would, though he did feel himself tugging at the collar of his armor as he tried to get some ventilation in to no avail.

"Though, it wouldn't hurt to have a few holes or vents here or there... guess the dwarves were used to all the heat and never felt it like we do." the demon prince then mused, "I wonder how our uninvited guests here are dealing with it on their end?"
 
Xiaòzhou kept his senses high, keeping an eye on everyone's vitals as well as on any sudden auras appearing, as they made their trek through the interior of the fortress. As with Azathor, he was similarly enamored by the preserved structure within, and nodded in support of his retort to Aleister. The heat of the forge reminded him of his past encounters with lava, including his most recent run-in back in the Abyss within the volcano on Zalmakul's Isle. Unlike the others, he didn't seem to visibly discomforted by it.

"We can only hope they are not handling it well," the hermit responded.
 
Once the party had entered the dwarven forge and felt the heat of the magma below, Sebastian grunted in annoyance and began to unbutton his greatcoat, pausing a moment until the wet and bloody garment was off of his body. He flung it to the side so that it was draped over a carved stone ornament, allowing the moisture to drip or evaporate out of it while the group proceeded. His undershirt, being a much lighter shade instead of the olive drab of his coat, more readily displayed the numerous holes and tears it had suffered during the fighting, and blood of unknown origins.

"I'll get it when we come back," he muttered to no one in particular, as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his undershirt, allowing himself to breathe more easily. Listening to the discussion between Azathor and Aleister, he rolled his eyes. "Whatever the dwarves did down here in their time is of no use to us. If it was better than anything we can make nowadays, then the dwarves would still be around, wouldn't they?"

His words carried the tone of an increasingly ill temper. He had turned down Constantine's offer of a cigarette moments earlier without an explanation - perhaps he didn't want to relax or lose the flame that was sustaining him.
 
"Looks like a big drop." He looked down to the lava bellow "Do you think their brain got fried before they made a splash?"

Riberta smirked, peering over at the magma below. "I hope so." she muttered.

As the others spoke amongst one another, Rebecca examined the other routes scattered about the massive room. A large central area where the actual smithing was done was connected by two stone bridges on the level below them. Judging from the feelings she was getting, which had now become two distinct divine auras, their target was on the lowest level. They would have to descend to the lowest level and proceed from there. A staircase down to the second level was across the room on the other side of the complex, and from there they would have to do some searching: one section of the second level had been destroyed by an avalanche of rock and stone while another portion had broken away and fallen into the magma far below.

She caught Sebastian's comment as she turned to look back to the group. "Indeed. Perhaps they would have survived the dragons that came to make these structures their dens." she stated, before looking to the others. "The gauntlets are on the lowest level... and in two separate locations. Once we get down there, we'll have to split into two groups to locate them."

She then looked to Riberta. "Do you know exactly what's down there?" she soon asked the hybrid.

Riberta pointed over the edge. "The mines, and storage areas. The mines themselves should still be intact. The dwarves didn't want cave-ins, so they reinforced a lot of the area below."

"Alright then, let's circle around to the far side and make our way down." stated Rebecca, motioning for the group to follow. "If you see any way around that cave-in on the second level, let me know. Our enemy somehow got around it, so we should be able to as well."

As the group travelled around the rim of the room, they passed by abandoned anvils and smithing tools. Rotten crates also dotted the level, along with pickaxes, sledgehammers, and other assorted tools. There were also axes and other weapons here, likely made of whatever materials the dwarves had been using. Thick layers of dust covered most things, along with assorted cobwebs. As they reached the stairs, they noticed there were footprints in the dust descending down them. The enemy had certainly been through here.
 
The infernal heat from the magma pools below wafted upwards — heat haze. Rajko found himself forced to pull off his gaiter, resisting the urge to breathe deeply, the sweltering, dry air an uncomfortable slight against his lungs. His crimson-stained cloths slicked with sweat, palms wet around the grip of his pistol. He wondered how the others withstood this Gods-accursed temperature in their attire. He doffed his black, Inquisitorial coat, wrapping the sleeves around his waist tight, exposing his torn shoulder now healed, but left the bloodied hole of his shirt.

"Agreed." Rajko rasped, thin rivulets of salty sweat streaked down his temples and forehead, the mines were hollow of utility for their purposes. However, it would be a terrible misfortune should these caverns, forges, and anvils actually be lost now — gone as they were, they should not be relegated to annals of lost history.

As the slow shuffle of feet descended through the caverns, Rajko's boot dislodged a stone, sending it tumbling down into the molten pools below with a throaty crack, the glowing surface undulated violently, spitting fire and globules of melted rock. His dark gaze glanced down briefly then back ahead at the rest. "Fall fast, your neck snaps on the surface, heat wouldn't transfer quickly enough." Rajko added.

The urge to pause and inspect the abandoned smithing implements scraped at him, but he ignored such feelings now, looking ahead at the stairwell that stretched further down. Rajko shook his head slightly, clearing his focus. "I'll keep my ears keen," He whispered.
 
Constantine caught Robberta's answer and raised an eyebrow. That was something he'd expect Boris to say. Was that an attitude werebeasts shared?
Fall fast, your neck snaps on the surface, heat wouldn't transfer quickly enough.
"Huh." He responded to Rajko's explanation. "I guess that makes sense." He scratched his chin as he pondered what the inquisitor said, trying not to seem too uneducated. Truth is he could barely read, so any knowledge he had about how things worked came from his days prowling around while alive and the different punishments and torments the Abyss offered. There's unfortunately a lot of educated demons.

He followed along deeper into the dwarven homes...or what used to be their homes. Their shops and masterworks left to the elements as they vanished from history so long ago. He noticed the footprints on the ground and assumed the rest of the party did as well. He rested one hand on the holstered gun on his left hip and continued down the path, trying to find any traces of enemy auras.
 
As they continued on, Xiaòzhou remained steadfast in paying mind to their surroundings, occasionally looking over to Rebecca with mutual nods. He continued to observe the architectural remnants of the dwarves as he had, before noting where the dust has been unsettled. The enemy was near, and just as the other supernatural, the hermit tried to spot their auras.
 
The transition from biting cold to extreme heat was not one Camille was handling all that well, her brow slick with sweat as the dry heat threatened to cook her in her leather outfit. Sebastian had the right idea of it to be shedding layers, but that was a luxury the huntress could ill afford. What she wore was relatively lightweight, the armor she wore was sparse and in key areas to protect her. Beyond her helmet and cloak, everything else on her was vital pouches of weaponry and ammunition. A concession she took was leaving her avian-inspired helmet near where Sebastian placed his coat.

"A death too good for those that dwell down here," Camille commented on Aleister's hope of burying their foes. "What's more I suspect that sifting through tons of rock and rubble for this artifact wouldn't go too well."

It was slightly unnerving to see the unattended smithing tools and empty anvils. The huntress did not have the privilege of skulking through the bleached bones of a civilization often, and such workstations being wholly abandoned like this made her feel as if the dwarves up and disappeared one day. It was a harrowing thought that some day the world she knew could be abandoned and similarly ravaged by the wages of time.

Footprints in the dust made by those that came before them roused her from her existential dread, and she soon moved her hands toward her blades as she crept quietly alongside the others.
 
"Alright then, let's circle around to the far side and make our way down." stated Rebecca, motioning for the group to follow. "If you see any way around that cave-in on the second level, let me know. Our enemy somehow got around it, so we should be able to as well."

"How do we even know there's a way around?" Sebastian replied, bitterly. "Maybe they caused the cave in themselves to keep us out. Some of the demons we've met can create portals, like Tariun's favorites, so maybe the enemy isn't planning to come back the way they came." He wiped the sweat out of his eyes as he lugged along his weapons and other gear, and eventually reached for his canteen. The water inside had frozen solid while he was climbing in the mountains earlier in the day, but since entering the warmer portion of the caverns below, the water was beginning to thaw, causing the metal container to expand slightly as the internal vacuum decreased. With a bit of a frustrated and forceful turn, he unscrewed the cap with a loud pop before rattling it, listening to the large block of ice inside bouncing off the walls of the container.

Before taking a sip, however, he noticed how Camille was struggling with her own choice of clothing. Ultimately, he decided to hand her the container first as a sign of appreciation for the care she had displayed after the earlier fight.
 
The huntress dropped her guard and stopped her skulking when she heard the canteen pop open, swiveling over to Sebastian preemptively just to investigate the source of the sound. From the condensation surrounding the metallic as well as the rattling of ice inside told her that it was exceptionally cold. When he wordlessly offered it to her, she paused and wanted to decline with an insistence that he should ration it for himself. There was a time where she would have been offended for displaying weakness to the point that Sebastian would notice, yet now she understood that it was not weakness to accept help from others.

Camille took the canteen from him with a weak but genuine smile, raising it with a faux toast she took a sizable sip from the container. The icy water within was like drinking from an oasis in the middle of a desert, and she gave a huff of relief before she passed it back to the soldier. "Merci..." the huntress breathed, smile still holding. "You are more prepared for this place than I am." The last words of admission came through with a light chuckle. On her person she had more stabbing implements than mundane supplies such as drinking water, and the comedy of that dawned on her in that moment.
 
"You are more prepared for this place than I am." The last words of admission came through with a light chuckle. On her person she had more stabbing implements than mundane supplies such as drinking water, and the comedy of that dawned on her in that moment.

Sebastian shrugged, smiling sardonically at his circumstances before taking a drink himself. "I'm used to being a pack mule... Half the reason they want kids in the army is because we've got young backs," he joked.

"...Bitte," he added quietly.
 
She nodded gratefully, though soon directed her attention to the path ahead as she tried to refocus on tracking their foes while avoiding an ambush. Though Camille could multitask, and remained near Sebastian as she mulled over his words.

"And I suppose the other half is how impressionable young minds can be," she reasons, twisting her lip. "Yet you are far more than a 'young back' and impressionable mind, Sebastian. Never forget that by being here you are making a difference."
 
Sebastian nodded ashamedly at Camille's "impressionable young minds" observation, but lifted his head at her encouragement. "...Ja," he said, shedding some of the anger and anxiety he had been suffering from. "No matter how this ends, it's better that we were here."
 
The group carefully descended down the staircase, following the trail of footprints imprinted in the layers of dust on each step. Upon closer inspection, they began to notice there were also hand prints in the dust. Something crawled down these stairs as well, likely either ghouls or demons. Long slender fingers, claw marks. Claw marks also marked the stone on the walls as well. Deep grooves carved into the rock, as talons were dragged across it. What manner of creatures made these?

At the bottom of the staircase, they could now see that the prints moved off in different directions. Some went around the staircase, moving towards the rear and around the room in a clockwise rotation, while the others continued counter-clockwise and into the rubble blocking their path. Perhaps what Sebastian said was right? They caused two destructive cave-ins to prevent them from following. However, they could see tunnels that lead off into different directions on this floor.

Riberta spoke up, looking in both directions. "If I remember correctly, we can head down through the workers living quarters. That will put us on the storage area below. The other way down would be through the blast furnace area. There's a shop there that was used for making quick repairs to machines and equipment, and has a ramp that leads down to the western side of the mines. We can meet up in the middle if we split up." she stated.

Rebecca then spoke, her eyes moving in either direction. "We'll have to. There's two artifacts, in two different areas. They likely separated the gauntlets when they hid them down here, so we'll have to locate both."

She then turned to the others. "Okay, we need to split up. Riberta can lead some of us through the blast furnace area, while I lead the rest through the living quarters." she stated, before waving a hand to herself and Riberta. "Who's going with who?"
 
"I'm going to make a journeyman's guess and say that we're not dealing with vampires anymore," Sebastian said, crouched over a set of prints. "As much as I don't want to be left without the Saint's saving grace, I think my best chance of survival is with Riberta. She literally fought her way out of hell once already." He lingered there for a moment, his expression hardening as he tried to put himself into a strong mindset. Before rising to his feet, he rubbed the spot on his hand where the vampire had bitten him and seemed to, with some exertion, force the fear that clouded his mind into a dark corner, out of the way.
 
"I'm sensing something really bad." Constantine said as he examined a set of prints himself. He couldn't tell if the vile presence he was sensing was coming from both directions or through their end point of their destination. "Blast furnace sounds nostalgic, so I'm going down there with the werewolf. Maybe we'll find something nice at the shop too."
 
"I'll go along with the Saint." Azathor remarked as he observed the possibilities. He wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea of heading into a furnace, especially with the presence of other enemies in this dead fortress. The heat would make the fighting harder than it had been already, not to mention the environmental hazards being within a blast furnace area presented. He already had enough experience on that front with the sawmill, a memory that remained unpleasant and vivid in his mind. He was certainly not eager for the possibility of a bath in molten iron or hot coals.
 
Xiaòzhou watched as the group slowly split itself in two as to grab hold of the respective gauntlet, attempting to ascertain with whom he should go with. He didn't have a preference for either route, so instead he concentrated on where his abilities would be most needed. What determined this, in his mind, was recovery capacity. Someone with his support ability would go where such capacity was far more liable to potential failure.

The hermit found himself leaning more towards following Riberta, as he could provide a consistent healing source alongside what Constantine was capable of in case things went hairy on their end, especially when considering someone such as Sebastian. Looking over to his side, Cassandra seemed to be looking over at Riberta too, but he wasn't sure where Jakob or Aleister would go towards. The latter he sensed healing in the previous fight upstairs, so ensuring each group had two healers each would be important, while the former he just wanted to ensure he suffered no further losses.
 
Camille would have argued against the assertion that the group had to split up, especially after experiencing the nightmare that was that dining area filled with vampires and ghouls. However, everyone was sufficient and capable in their own way that dispersing to cover more ground did make sense. It didn't unnerve her any less, yet she was perpetually on edge in enemy territory - it is how she survived.

"I'll accompany the saint, in that case," the huntress said as she started to step toward that group, only to place a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. "You're safe with Riberta, yes. Just do well not to anger her. My hardheaded husband got himself punched in the face by her and was apparently sent flying." The anecdote is given with a light chuckle that indicated Camille thought he deserved it, and after a moment she strode toward Rebecca to join the others.

"Let us move."
 
The heat was wretched the further they traveled. Aleister had known the kiss of the desert sun, long ago, even when he traveled in the hours before dawn and after sunset. In some regions, cold came in quick like a hushed whisper, but in others the nights remained warm and drenched in the humidity of the day. To say that he was accustomed to the fair and often chill temperatures of the night was no mere understatement - Nocturne itself was a cold, foggy land. Natural scientists and geologists had said glaciers once ruled their rocky island and were the reason why the stone was scarred and upturned. To go from there to this dreaded pit was enough to make him contemplate his choice of ever tagging along, though not with any degree of sincerity. Their labors were far more important than some moments of discomfort.

Still, such a choice did appear. Between fanning himself with his bowler cap and distastefully eying the gouges in the rock by some profane creature - or creatures - that had come through, he glanced up at the others with a frown at the mere mention of a blast furnace. "I rather think I shall join Madam Rebecca. I pray the living quarters are well-shielded from this hostile environment," he remarked, gesturing at the dreary world around them. "And I'm sure a woman of her stature counts as several of us," he added, glancing back around at Riberta.
 
"She very much does," Xiaòzhou spoke in response to Aleister's remark, "but even the most mighty can falter without proper aid. And given the circumstances, we can't assume the artifacts are by their lonesome. So, with the group division as it is so far, it only makes sense for me to accompany the group headed to the blast furnace area," he explained.

Rebecca and Aleister in one, and himself and Constantine in another, should suffice for healing capacity and any unexpected surprises. He hoped, at the very least.
 
"I'll join the Saint on this one." Rajko remarked, clenching his fist, rolling his wrist. It hadn't been a question of preference which drove the inquisitor's decision, rather the diversification of abilities — a werebeast for each group, one or two who could provide restorative aid, and the rest providing their own manner of skill. That will properly armour and equip the two groups to deal with the gamut of difficulties they could expect along their paths.

His expression darkened, glancing between the two paths before them. He had his own suspicions about what they'll find down these perilous routes, but stifled his thoughts. It wouldn't matter whether he voiced his concerns or not, at least for this. The thin streams of sweat that slicked down his forehead streamed faster, harder. "Well... Into the breach then." Rajko wiped it away, gripping his pistol and sheathed sword.
 
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