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The scholar was quite shocked that the revelers gave in that easy, his expression belaying his feelings. Eyebrows arched, he offered a shrug and a sagely nod, murmuring, "Curious," to himself. He watches the trio depart, back to their merry making, the last night of such celebration at Daggerford apparently. He inclines his head towards the dark sky above before turning about and starting to move towards the Caravan Gate. He looks down at the gnome as they walk, mentioning, "I don't recall needing supervision before."

As they walk through the night, he steals a furtive glance at Bronria in the dark, having dispelled the light from his quarterstaff. He breathes in the air, shrugging to no one in particular as he muses to himself, at first wondering what the new woman's presence could mean for the group. It doesn't take long, however, before his mind to turn back inwards again, doors opening up in his memory palace, and he starts pondering the significance of the way his fingertips trace a circular pattern before him with a punctuation flourish and how common place that particular movement would be within the school of evocation, his mind connecting the movement of his physical hands with his manipulations of the magic weave...
 
Lack of subtlety. Bronria could have hit her. Thankfully, Stanimir and the other travelers seem to decide against exploiting the obvious divisions in their group, turning back to their revelry after only a moment. Bronria considers insisting that they depart immediately, but decides not to chance it. Provoking a fight would reflect poorly on her, and bloodshed might be avoided so long as they keep their word. If not, well, she'll probably be helping to see them off in the morning anyway.

The knight-in-training keeps apart from the group as they turn to walk back down the hill towards the city, letting an uncomfortable silence take over. It's been so long since she last worked with such an eclectic mix of people as this, she isn't sure how to begin a conversation. At first she contents herself with sneaking glances at the unearthly light emanating from the conjurer's staff, until he extinguishes it. Then she lets her eyes stray to the warrior woman who seems to be the more outspoken of the bunch. The words she used still rankle, but Bronria tries to put it out of her mind. Since their relationship is going to be so short-lived, it might as well be professional while it lasts.

But then the scholar speaks up, and she stiffens. Is he trying to agitate her, or just make conversation? Best to play it safe regardless. "No, you do seem quite capable of handling yourselves," she answers, turning to give the scholar a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Though, had tonight's negotiations turned hostile, you might have found yourselves sorely outnumbered - hence my accompanying you. This was a one-off occasion." And how glad of it she is. Come tomorrow, she hopes to use tonight's earnings to pay her way onto a wagon trail heading out of the city. Daggerford isn't awful, as towns go, but it can't offer her anything more.
 
With a bow she thanked Stanimir for his understanding and gave nods to his counterparts before shooting a look at Bronria as she turned to catch up with Abalister making his escape. Keeping a pace or two behind she kept to her thoughts so rare. She hated being prickly, but the atmosphere had put her on edge. It was far too quiet as the music from the caravans died with distance.

Abalisters comment broke her inner monologue on how she could have handled the situation better her face had been miming the conversation between and Bronria as she mulled it over. Glancing over her shoulder with obvious interest in the woman’s answer Sera eases as she speaks of her company only being temporary. “What a shame.” she mumbles turning back forward eyeing the darkness around her.

After some time she began fiddling and fidgeting with the strapping on her armor making it tighter then looser as they walked in silence. With an exasperated grunt she gave up on being comfortable. Quickened her pace and passed Abe and Kellen to take the front. She needed to get home the sooner the better.
 
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Kellen ended up wandering through the vagabond camp, not being given any reason to worry. He rejoined his partners, just as Bronria came up and shouted Stanimir down. He stands back, waiting to see how this confrontation plays out. Once it seemed the warriors have found an uneasy peace, he joins them in returning to camp. He gives a little chuckle at Abalister's comment, though he stifles it quickly, not wanting to earn the ire of their new associate.

Walking the road back to the gates, Kellen reflects on this job they had finished. I'm glad we didn't need to resort to violence - they seemed like perfectly nice people. Where did they come from I wonder? Kellen realizes with surprise that he had been prepared to use force if required. Perhaps I am more like these warrior women than I thought. Remembering that moment in the forest a year ago, when he had defended his family, violently. That wasn't generally the way of his people, when they are in danger they trick, hide and move. He had been celebrated for his actions, had saved his family from harm and from the trouble of having to disappear. Do I really believe that the only thing that matters is that the good live? Do I really believe it is that simple?

Kellen could never keep to his own thoughts for long. They were in the city streets now, and oblivious to the unnatural quiet surrounding him he spoke "So, Bronria was it? What brings you to Daggerford? Have you been working for the Duchess long? I don't remember seeing you around, and I'm sure i've talked to everyone! I make a point of it even. Are you far from home? I've traveled pretty far to be here. You know..." He peters off as they pass the last building before the manor doors.
 
Abalister frowns at nothing in particular after Bronria speaks, in his mind noting the difference between accompanying and supervising the group. His eyes are open as he walks, but his attention is far from what is physically about him. In his mind, he is staring at a scroll, his fingers tracing arcane runes as his eyes reads 'imago tacet', a spell that he is apparently eyeing to add to his spellbook. The memory is not as fresh as it usually is, causing the scholar some frustration as he is pulled back to the now, the sound of Kellen chittering to Bronria filling his ears. He tosses a casual glance forward at Seraphina, noting the stiffness in her gait, the woman obviously agitated by the other.

As they continue down Duke's Way, his brow furrows, his nostrils starting to fill with unknown scents. He crinkles his nose, wiping a stray lock of hair that has escaped his ponytail from his field of vision as he scans the darkened streets. He looks from one warrior to the other, looking for any indication that he should start to worry.
 
Stung, Bronria turns to face the armoured woman, but finds that she's already looked away. Or maybe she was only imagining that she'd said something. No, that's what she wants you to think. Flushing, she hefts her shield with its flaking midnight-blue paint and hooks her fingers into the strap, squeezing it restlessly while it hangs by her side. It's certainly odd behaviour, but she forces herself not to care what these three might think of her. At least it'll give her something to occupy her mind until they reach the keep.

But then the gnome jumps in, and it's all she can do to keep smiling pleasantly while he peppers her with a litany of questions. How in the world is she meant to reply? It demands a response of some kind, but for some reason she's having trouble remembering her stock answers. Maybe the confrontation threw her off more than she thought. Then she pauses, turning to frown at the road ahead. No, there's something else. A certain metallic, pungent scent not unfamiliar to her. And to smell it so strongly here, in the heart of Daggerford...

Judging by their expressions as she glances around, the gnome and the conjurer have sensed it too. Bronria stops playing with her shield and straps it securely to her forearm. "We should hurry," she says, hostility forgotten for the moment.
 
Growing ever closer to the manor the metallic scent hits her nose. Reaching reaching for her blade she heard Bronria call for more speed. The woman’s voice didn’t grate her so much anymore the call to action in her soldiers mindset she waived her shield arm for them to come on with her.

Already ahead when she hitched her step to jog she separated further coming up short upon seeing the carnage in the courtyard. Her eyes she swore were deceiving her men they had just left lay prone and unmoving the metallic scent of blood burning her sinuses. Casting a momentary glance back seeing the others hot on her heels she proceeds in slowly.

Rising the few steps to the door she cautiously checks for any beast sitting in wait near the darkness of the open doorway. Far from her suspicions eased she slowly pulls back turning to one of the guards kneeling beside him with hope only to find his throat ripped out silenced forever more.
 
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Kellen rounds the corner behind the women. As Sera hurries to investigate the portal leading into the manor, Kellen finds himself drawn to the bodies. "These poor men" he mutters, leaning over them, he ignores the taste of bile rising in his throat, forcing himself to consider this like a problem to solve. He looks over the dead man nearest him, trying to piece together what happened at these doors. He reaches to inspect the wounds at the man's throat, fingers stopping just short of contact. Blood is still coming out of the wound, and Kellen cannot stomache it anymore. He stands hurriedly, turns and walks away, towards Sera.

He tells her in a hushed tone, worried that someone will hear "The wounds are fresh! This can't have but just happened. What's the plan?" He turns to look at Abalister, still a ways back and Bronria, concerned.
 
Abalister slows down as the torn bodies of the guards come into view. His brain, usually accutely sharp in it's awareness, refuses to process the sight before him. None of it makes sense; the guards, their throats torn from their necks, esophagus, tendons, and arteries exposed to the night air.

Slowly, as Seraphina moves to the threshold of the Manor and Kellen inspects the ragged wounds, the truth of their situation wracks the scholar, mind and body. He lurches forward, the feast from earlier making an appearance across the cobblestone at his feet. Fear starting to soften the edges of his vision, he looks through the tunnel, wide eyed, at Bronria for reassurance or direction.
 
Though the entrance to the manor remains dark and empty, Bronria nonetheless keeps her hand on the hilt of her longsword as they approach. Even when the mangled bodies come into view, she makes an effort to keep her breathing regular. If what the gnome says is to be believed, the one - or ones - responsible for the slaughter must still be nearby, and the last thing she needs is to panic now.

Overhearing the mage's retching, she turns and realises with some surprise that he's looking towards her. There's probably something she should be saying to him, some words of comfort. What had she been told back at the ogres' den...?

Nothing comes readily to mind. "Scholar," she says quietly, "it would be helpful if you might conjure some more light." Was that the right tone to take? No time to think about it now. She turns back towards the open doorway and steps up next to the other warrior. "We enter and find whatever has done this." A little foolhardy, maybe, but there's nobody else around who might be able to help.

Four corpses. She isn't one for omens, but...
 
The scholar, so completely out of his element now, can only stare at Bronria for several heartbeats. Mumbling the words, "C-conjure light...?" almost as much as he asks it. The warrior woman's form starts to slowly spin as the tunnel elongates, his breath beginning to pick up, ragged gasps of air escaping his lungs. Many things pass through the young man's thoughts at that moment; his road out of Fireshear where he was the punching bag for all the true northmen, his time at the Host Tower in Luskan, and, more recently, the companionship he had found with Kellen and Seraphina. That last thought helped to right the images, the tunnel ebbing back to nothing once more.

There was few things he could do right, by his estimation, and one of those things were to think. He concentrated hard, his brow furrowing and sweat starting to bead at his temples and across his forehead. In his mind, his companions, even the newest one, were depending on him, even if it was for something as simple as a cantrip. Nodding through the haze, he speaks up, "Yes, of course."

Striding forward, he places a hand on Bronria's shield while his other hand fishes something from a pouch on his belt. "Sufficit unum lumen in tenebris," he incants, his free hand squashing an insect across the shield, his thumb leaving a trail of bioluminescence across its frontage. Once completed, the lad steps back from the woman, the front side of her shield now shining light forward.
 
Looking up over her shoulder she rises to meet the other woman face to face. “Whatever has done this is further inside, it would be foolish to hope the Duchess is not in a similar state.” Sera motions to the guards. “I can’t imagine the sort of beast that could tear through these guards in the center of the city. It’s safe for the moment here the creature may be deeper within the manor laying in wait for concerned reinforcements. ”

Looking down at Kellen still crouched over the body of the fallen guard placing her hand on his shoulder she bid him back away. “Good Kellen it be best you turn to us and we can formulate a plan.” He looked as though his mouth was about to water and it concerned her. As she catered to Kellen she witnessed shadows cast more defined upon the ground causing her to turn back to Bronria. Seeing her shield lit to blazing Sera would laugh if it weren’t for the environment . With the woman’s stature and stance shield aglow she looked like a bards tale. “I am with you, we can not allow whatever has done this continue to be loose upon the city.” Offering her hand again to the woman she grabbed hold Bronria’s bracer in a soldiers hand shake.

Reaching out with her other hand she gives Abalister’s shoulder a squeeze and a assuring nod. “I think may hap you and Kellen should stay between myself and Bronria until we either reach the Duchess or are engaged, but we will need both your aid. Likely for more than light.” Squeezing she released and took in a calming breath, it was time to earn her pay as they say.
 
"Yes...Yes, or course. I don't have any more clue of who..." he paused, realizing that these wounds were likely not cause by a weapon. What kind of a weapon would pull out a throat? "or I guess, more likely, what caused this" waving his hand in the general direction of the bodies, not wanting to look back at them.

Kellen had learned that he could be strong, that he could use his intelligence and arcane ability to protect people, from when he left his home, until he arrived in Daggerford. But this... were they really going to go confront whatever killed the duchess' guards?

"Ok, ok, think. Whatever this is killed armed and armoured men...Perhaps they didn't know it was coming. So it's obviously powerful, and probably stealthy. These wounds are fresh, so it could still be occupied with the defenders inside the castle. Or the silence means it is merely waiting for some fools to come rushing in..."

He paused again, realizing that he was trying to make a plan for entry, that was in fact exactly what Sera was calling them towards. Why not just run? That makes the most sense, get far away before they are next. No, No! After so long here i'm going to abandon these people? Abandon the Duchess? That is not who I want to be.

Kellen, with some effort, slows his breathing again.

"Ok Sera, I'm with you, and I will gladly let you cover me with your armour and shield, but let's not go in quite yet. I think we learned that, outside the forest, I am not as stealthy as I think. But my friend is quiet, and perhaps I can see something through him that will help us going forward. I'll be right back!"

He takes the weasel from it's perch on his shoulder, holds it up to his face and whispers. "Ok Nimble, we need you to be brave, and find out what's going on inside this house"

He releases him, and sends him inwards with a telepathic command. Placing his hand inside his shirt he draws the elvish symbol for friend on the left side of his ribs and mumbles "Utua Mellon". His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he stands motionless.
 
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The weasel scurries through the keep, watching out for any sign of danger, but the place is still. With each tiny step, you realise more and more that the term "dead silent" has never felt more appropriate. Heading to the Audience Chamber, you hold your breath, hoping that whoever these attackers were, they didn't get that far. Your hopes are short lived, however, as you reach the door to the Audience Chamber, only to see it torn from its hinges and now lying flat on the ground. The room beyond would be dark if not for the large shattered window in the far wall letting moonlight stream in, illuminating a room decorated by a similar scene of carnage to outside. The remains of several guards lie splattered about the room, each limb attached to the other by a long streak of crimson. Of the attackers, there are no sign.

The silence hangs over you ominously, the moonlight making shadows dance in the corners of the room, forming leering faces and deadly blades in the corner of your eye. In the far corner of the room, you see one of the figures stirring, and it takes you a moment to realise that this one isn't a trick of the light. It pulls itself up into a slumped sitting position, and you realise, behind the mess of blonde hair matted with blood, that this is Lady Morwen. She hasn't seen you yet, or if she has, thinks nothing of a small rodent scurrying through the keep.
 
Watching the scholar pull himself together feels oddly reassuring, and Bronria watches him work with curiosity as he produces a fat insect from one of his pouches. This curiosity turns to horror when he starts daubing its filth on her shield. Lady Beryl's shield.

"What are you - " she begins, her voice so hoarse it barely sounds like her own. Then the shield bursts into light, eliminating the trail of slime and illuminating the entrance of the keep. Still, it takes Bronria a moment to realise that no real damage has been done and begin to breathe again. He did exactly as you told him to, she reminds herself, trying not to look the scholar in the eye. He meant no harm by it. And it certainly makes you look impressive.

Shaken, she tries to refocus on the situation at hand, grasping the soldier's gauntlet firmly before moving up to cover the scholar and the gnome - who seems to be focused on some sort of spell of his own, if the state of his eyes is any indication. She only hopes neither he nor the other two heard what she started to say; there are enemies to pursue, and all of them will need to keep their wits sharp as they enter.
 
Lost in his own thoughts, uncertainty and fear dulling his perception, Abalister barely registers Bronria's words. As Kellen's weasel stalks into the keep, he feels Sera's hand on his shoulder. The touch is reassuring and continues to ease the tunnel vision back, allowing him to see more clearly still. His brain, however, is still a bit slow as he blinks stupidly at the woman, listening to her words and nodding his head in vague agreement..

After a long moment, he reaches into a belt pouch at his side and produces another firefly. He holds it between his thumb and index finger between them, looking at her and asks, "You need a, ahhhh, a l-light as well?"
 
As Abalister speaks to Sera, Kellen comes to with a loud intake of breath. "...'s alive! She...Lady Morwen....She's still alive! I don't think anyone else is, but I saw her move!"

He stays in his spot, hopping from foot to foot looking around, wanting to sprint in, but too scared to go alone. He looked a little like he had taken on the nervous energy of the weasel who's body he had just inhabited.
 
Offering her shield to Abalister she gives him a stern nod. “Please do, we will need it.” The steel and wood shield not unlike the ones guards carry is light and strong its surface dinged from use and practice. Sera had looked back to Bronria for her input or insight when Kellen suddenly piped up. Jostling her shield she was startled by the sudden excitement, the news that the duchess still lived sobered her quickly.

“Good work Kellen, we need to hurry but err on the side of caution. You didn’t happen to see the thing that might have done this or mayhap not and the absence makes our investigation that much easier?”
 
Lady Morwen is still alive. Maybe the attackers weren't successful - or at least, they haven't succeeded yet. Bronria shakes her head as the warrior woman speaks up, suddenly overcome by a feeling of anxiety. "Tell us as we move," she says, using her free hand to give the scholar and the gnome each a motivating push while striding forward herself, trying to set the pace. She's honestly a little surprised with herself; normally she'd take the other woman's advice and err on the side of caution, but something about the stillness inside the keep has her teeth set on edge. Whoever's still alive inside needs to be found, and quick. Every other second she glances back at the gnome, hoping that he'll direct them.
 
The scholar is in the middle of spellcasting as Kellen reports back in, informing the group of Lady Morwen's current status of being alive for the time being. Forcing the weave to his will, Abalister finishes the incantation, causing Seraphina's shield to erupt in light the same as Bronria's. He blinks a few times as he is jostled from behind, the woman pushing him forward towards the door. Brow furrowed, he looks from the open portal and, in his mind, certain doom ahead and back to the woman. He opens his mouth to speak, but he falls silent, his brain suddenly registering words that were spoken while he was distracted.

He swallows loudly before striding forward with the gnome, taking some measure of comfort at the presences of the fighters. He reaches a hand into another pouch near the front of his belt, idly fingering spell components as he walks. In his mind, he is trying to set aside the growing fear that is once again threatening to cloud his vision. Pushing it aside, he sees the pages of his spellbook, searching the spells that he has prepared for what may lay ahead.
 
Kellen was glad to be given a reason to move. As Bronria pushes him forward, he takes off easily, staying right with the fighters.


"I didn't see anyone - anything. But..." he takes a breath, both because of their pace, and to collect himself "far as I could tell, everyone else is dead. I just saw Lady Morwen stirring. I think she is only alive by accident."

Kellen, trusting Nimble's senses for danger, leads the group as swiftly as possible towards the audience chamber.

"She was in the audience chamber, everyone else was....uhh... torn apart..." Thinking about Abalister's reaction outside. "Maybe Abalister shouldn't go in." Kellen turns back towards his fellow Wizard. "I'll wait with you."
 
With Kellen’s instructions on the Duchess’ location Sera pushed a hastened but cautious pace. She didn’t enjoy the omenous atmosphere any more than the others. The silence and smell of iron creeping into her psyche mixed with the darkness of the halls.

Checking to make sure all were with her Sera made her way through the dark mansion to the audience chamber, shield lighting their path forward.
 
Moving through the keep, you see what Kellen had noticed earlier; the place seems to be abandoned, with no sign of the other inhabitants. Reaching the Audience chamber, you spot the prone form of Lady Morwen. At the sound of your footsteps, she looks up, seemingly unable to muster the strength to pull herself up off the floor.
"Please... you have to... help..."
 
Even after being forewarned by Kellen, the sight of Lady Morwen makes Bronria take a sharp breath. Had she not spoken, she might not have recognised her for all the blood. Naturally, she hurries straight over.

"Stop, do not try to move. Just be still," she says in a hushed voice, mindful of the eerie silence that still pervades the keep. Looking at Morwen now, she can only hope that her wounds aren't already fatal — medicine has never been her forte, and all her first aid knowledge appears to have deserted her. Talking isn't going to make Morwen any better, but...

"Who did this? What happened?" she asks.
 
Kellen holds at the door, shaking his head at Abalister, not wanting him to be sick again. "The rest of the keep seemed empty, but in there...I'm not sure I want to go in again either way...If they need us they'll tell us. Bronria! Call us if you need us!"

He sits back against the wall beside the doorway to the audience chamber, not taking his attention off his surroundings, but confident that his familiar would have noticed anything dangerous that remained. Thinking of nimble again, he mumbles "Utua Mellon" while pushing on his ribs, unsummoning him temporarily - an act to keep his friend out of danger.
 
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