As soon as she heard the name Morgana, Aranwen's eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened, "Damn that witch," She swore, her hand shaking in anger as she took a deep breath, "Thirty years... thirty years, no sign of her, no way to find her, no way to track her down, and now, all of a sudden, she shows up here," she nearly growled in frustration.

Aranwen looked around quickly, expecting a puppet to show up just to spite her. She looked back to Kithran but didn't lower her guard, "I know very little of her," she sighed, "One terrible memory, her name and the look of that mask most don't know. Or those that do stay silent. I only know that she's a formidable mercenary. After her puppet confirmed I wasn't you, she said I wasn't part of her contract and left me in the alley she ambushed me in. I can only guess that Adedre hired her."

She shuddered in recollection, "If we're dealing with her, of all things... we got lucky... but we can't rely on Heren'salkya's favour against the likes of her."

Aranwen began to pace again, her mind racing as she tried to think of the next steps that they should do, "If Adedre did hire Morgana, then we need to take out Adedre as soon as we can. If we kill her, we get rid of Morgana's source of payment. If she gets nothing out of her efforts, she leaves. I've seen it before."

"Oh I'd love to take my sword to the smug face behind that mask if I could..." She muttered, her eyes burning with a simmering fury.

436 E.R, Elanfalee tavern Sunflower Drops

It had been an eventful day. A broken livestock pen led to a few loose cattle, a particularly unfriendly scenario. Tara winced as she felt the aches in her muscles from the acrobatics she had employed to catch their attention and lead them away from onlookers, before leaning back a bit on her chair and giving a wistful sigh. The tavern was relatively empty this evening, all things considered. She might have enjoyed some evening company, but she at least had the company of the glass in front of her.

"You look pretty sad. No wait, pretty and sad?"

Hearing the sudden voice was like being splashed with cold water, and Tara could not help but hold her concealed dagger ready. Then she turned and saw the speaker.

A little girl with messy, sandy hair stood beside her, looking up at her with curiosity in her eyes. As their eyes met, the little girl gave a smile and a shy wave.

"Hiii."

Tara frowned slightly, unable to shake the chill she felt, "Where did you come from, little one?" she asked gave her a small wave back.

"Oh! That's what I wanted to ask," the little girl clambered up on to the chair beside Tara, "Never see you before. You are amazing. The cow was like grr and you were all nope not there now. Are you a dancer? Where are you from? Who are you? Where are the others like you? There were others. All red and white clothing. Not here? Did you have a fight?"

Tara blinked in bewilderment at the cascade of questions she was getting from the child, "S-slow down, little one," she finally said, "To answer you: no, lots of places, a Laughing Maiden of Shinara, at the temple, and no, we have not fought . . . to any great degree . . . today." Taking a breath she took a look around the tavern, "Where are your parents?"

"Mom's always busy," the girl replied, "Soo bored."

"It's evening. She lets you wander around on your own? At night?" Tara asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice.

"I go where I wanna!"

Tara lifted a finger to her temple, rubbing lightly before she shook her head, "Not this evening, little one. Come on, let's go find your mother."

Placing the coin beside the glass, the girl peered over the table, "Is that juice? Are you going to finish that?" She asked.

Tara shook her head, "It's not for little girls," she replied firmly, before taking the child's hand and leading them from the bar.

"Tell me of your mother," Tara asked as they walked outside, "What is she busy with?"

"Talking, talking, and more talking! She wants fabberric to sell."

"Ah," Tara's eyes softened a little bit, "Yes, those talks can certainly take a while. You're not from here then?"

"Nope!"

"Where are you from, little one?" Tara asked.

"Iiiiiiiii" The little girl gave a yawn, "Dunno. We're always on the road."

A travelling merchant and her daughter... Tara mused, "So am I, more or less," she gave a wry chuckle.

"Oooh can I go with you? You seem fun!"

Tara shook her head, "No, little one. You are too young, and I already have someone I'm looking after. Try to stay with your mother, okay? I'm sure she's-"

"There you are!"

Tara turned her head to see a woman rushing towards them, panting in her exertion when she arrived. Despite wearing what were clearly travel ready clothing, they had details of nobility to them, particularly in the jewelry she wore. She didn't look at Tara, her eyes only directed at the girl beside her.

"Good evening," Tara tilted her head, "Please try to keep a closer watch over this one," She smiled, "As hard as I know that may be."

"Mom I have a new mom!"

The woman sighed, "No dearie, stop bothering the kind lady. You look just about ready to fall over."

Pouting, the girl walked over to be picked up by the woman. Within moments, the girl had yawned and snuggled into her mother's arms, quickly falling asleep. Whispering softly, the woman mused aloud, "She's such a handful, but she's my handful," The woman's face had a gentle smile, her gaze wistful with distant eyes.

"Don't be too hard on her. Listening to adults talk and sitting in one place doesn't usually suit well with children," Tara spoke gently, "Take care now."

"You as well, and thank you for looking after her."

As Tara returned to the inn, she found the other Maidens surprised at her quick return.

"Huh, this is a surprise. Didn't expect to see you back so soon."

Tara shrugged, "I did go to the tavern, but a girl surprised me there. I had to see her safely returned to her mother."

"Surprised? You? That's almost unbelievable," Serah laughed.

Tara frowned, "Yes... it is almost unbelievable," she looked back out the door in the way the mother and child had left.

"Damn that witch," Aranwen breathed in reply and the intense anger now filling her entire demeanor was a surprise to the half-Syl, "Thirty years... thirty years, no sign of her, no way to find her, no way to track her down, and now, all of a sudden, she shows up here," she looked around as if expecting one of those creatures of Morgana to jump out at them again before turning her hardened face back Kith, "I know very little of her, one terrible memory, her name and the look of that mask most don't know. Or those that do stay silent. I only know that she's a formidable mercenary. After her puppet confirmed I wasn't you, she said I wasn't part of her contract and left me in the alley she ambushed me in. I can only guess that Adedre hired her."

“Wonderful,” Kith muttered, another on our growing list of enemies.

The bladesinger shuddered, "If we're dealing with her, of all things... we got lucky... but we can't rely on Heren'salkya's favour against the likes of her."

Harem . . . skulka? Heron skalla? Helter ske--Kithran shook her head at the Sylvari phrase and went back to listening to the Sylvari woman’s suggestions.

"Oh, I'd love to take my sword to the smug face behind that mask if I could..." She muttered under her breath.

“Thirty years?” Kithran asked, slightly mollified after the bladesinger’s rant, “You’ve been searching for that thing for thirty years?” She crossed her arms, “Then are you sure you’d like to lose her again like this? Personally, all I really need from Adedre is a book, but I also need to stay inconspicuous here in Davnor, and being chased by mercenaries and skeletons makes that difficult. Plus, she locked my friend Samuel up and I simply cannot have that act go unpunished. Killing her is a must for me.” She shrugged, “Perhaps we can pry a few answers from her though before we make her insides into her outsides?”

((OOC: any response))

Kithran sighed, “Either way, time is not on our side, but hopefully your Helen Skalise is and can shine some light on our next big endeavor. Namely, how the hell we’re supposed to get back in there.” She packs some of the dirt beneath her foot and crouches down, drawing a rough outline of Adedre’s estate, “As you mentioned earlier Aranwen, the ancient tunnel I crawled through to get in there has likely been blocked by now. And I wouldn’t recommend it anyway. Thank you all for not mentioning the stench, by the way.”

She slightly tilts her head and sniffs, scrunching her nose at the scent, “If they don’t smell me coming it will be a miracle. Anyway, I believe there is only one way into the courtyard area, and that is through the main gate, guarded here,” she marks the position in her dirt replication and looks up at Aranwen, “If you remember another, please correct me. You may do so from the comfort of where you stand, I will not subject you to my aromatic essence down here.” She points again to the square that represents the manor, “There is a front and back entrance, both guarded. And we know that here--unless they’ve spent the day repairing this or she has some sort of window repair magic--is a massive Kazari and Kith-sized hole.”

She stands back up and dusts off her hands, “We have the majority of the day ahead of us, though nightfall will offer us the most cover. Of course, they are dark and evil things, so the night will likely benefit them as well. Additionally, her terrifying lair will likely be more heavily fortified than usual." She looks up in thought, "Then again, maybe not? Who would be foolish enough to return to such a horrifying place the day after such a narrow escape? Idiots, that’s who.” She grinned, “I normally find a hole to sneak through and wing the rest. While that worked seamlessly last time, as it always does, it will be nice to go in with a plan for once. Alright, my savage mercenary Kazari and tactical warrior bladesinger, thoughts?”

“Perhaps we can pry a few answers from her though before we make her insides into her outsides?”

"Adedre's just an employer," Aranwen mused, "Aside how she contacted Morgana in the first place, I don't know how much she'd truly know. We can at least try and ask, if there's an opportunity."

"I'm not worried about making such an opportunity happen," Aranwen added, looking to Ch'dau then to Kithran, "Not if it puts you both at risk. In any case, I have a suspicion the slavers likewise may have a connection to her, if only by other contracts."

"It's possible Morgana may approach me again of her own accord, some time later," she observed, gritting her teeth, "... She was surprised to see me alive, and offered a deal as she put it. 'Life for a life' - pledge my life to her and she'd see Saeriel restored. Ludicrous and impossible," though she clenched her hands and teeth, there did seem almost a desperate longing in her eyes.

"But that can be dealt with later."

"... it will be nice to go in with a plan for once. Alright, my savage mercenary Kazari and tactical warrior bladesinger, thoughts?”

Aranwen tilted her head a bit in surprise at Kithran's unfamiliarity with the language. But then it did make sense that, given circumstances, Kithran wouldn't know. 

"Haren'salkya," Aranwen repeated, before adding, "Fortune's dancer, I believe she is also referred to by Shinara."

"And in a strange twist of fortune, knowing that Morgana is after you two does give us one possible opportunity," Aranwen observed, "From what you've told me, she tried to capture, not kill, so Adedre clearly wants you brought back alive. If we could make a mask that looked like Morgana's, perhaps they'd simply open the gate for us if we walked up to it. Not unlike the first time I gained entry, posing as a city guard."

In the streets

The trip from the apothecary to the garden where they were to meet Aranwen hadn’t passed entirely without incident. En route, Kithran had picked another pair of Adedre’s mercenaries from amongst the throng in Davnor’s streets. Catching Ch’dau’s gaze, the sly thief motioned to the pair and then made another gesture that evoked a nod of understanding from the cat-man.

“Where is she going,” Mosic asked as Kith slipped away from them and put herself into the mercenaries’ line of sight.

“To lead those two to their end,” Ch’dau rumbled in reply, pointing out the two monkeys who had already fallen for Kithran’s gambit.

“Shouldn’t we help?”

“We will, little one,” the Silver Cat nodded. He waited until Adedre’s men had their backs fully to him, then, with a nudge and a grunt, he led the Cid off in pursuit.

“…Where ya goin’ little miss,” one of the mercenaries taunted from the shadows of the alley Kith into which Kith had led them.

“Oh,” Kithran’s deceptively sweet voice answered just as Ch’dau and Mosic reached the alleyway’s mouth, “just to go meet my friends.”

“Yar friends, eh?” One of the men chuckled menacingly over the sound of steel being drawn. “We’d like to go meet ‘em, as well.”

Ch’dau held out a hand, stopping Mosic in his tracks. “Mind the street,” the Kazari muttered, reaching under his cloak to draw his own blades, “be sure no one else follows.”

The cleric of Falloes nodded, twin pony-tails bobbing as the big cat slipped silently into the alley.

“Hmm, okay,” Kith smiled, looking past the two men as Ch’dau appeared behind them, “Ch’dau, meet these gentlemen.”

Both mercenaries started to turn their heads, then, but before the action could be completed, the Kazari had run a sword through each of their backs, the force of the blows lifting them from their feet and exposing their throats to the daggers Kith had thrown.

“Gentlemen,” the half-Syl almost snickered as the mercenaries gawked, dumb and dead, in her direction, “meet Ch’dau.”

With a snort, the Kazari pulled his blades from the backs of the men, flicking the blood away from the steel as they dropped into the dirt. “Well met,” he chuffed, grinning at Kith as she skipped over to retrieve her daggers.

“Beautiful work, Ch’dau,” she smiled up at him, after she relieved the pair of possessions they no longer would have need of.

“My thanks, kibibi,” he nodded, his blades disappearing back under the cloak, “You did well, yourself.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, nodding to Mosic who now stood in the alley’s mouth, slowly shaking his head at the carnage.

“Are you alright over there Mosic? I apologize for not introducing you as well.”

“I am fine, Kithran, are you alright?”

Ch’dau’s eyes rolled in his head at the banter.

“…Shall we continue?”

“Please,” the Kazari chuffed.

At the garden

Given all that had happened and all that he, Kithran, and Mosic had encountered since parting ways with Aranwen, Ch’dau found himself a bit worried as to the bladesinger’s fate. Had she encountered any of Adedre’s men or, worse, any mannequins the likes of which had attacked them at the apothecary? In truth, he was more concerned about the latter, as the puppet had mentioned the Sylvari woman by name…

Supposing she does not make the rendezvous, the Kazari stewed as he and the Cid followed Kith through the streets, do we abandon our plans in favor of trying to find her? After all she has done for us, it would be dishonorable to abandon her so.

Thankfully, his fretfulness was unwarranted. As Kith led them around a corner, the garden came into view and, pacing anxiously in the tiny greenspace, so did Aranwen.

Merciful Khr’a, Ch’dau sighed to himself as the bladesinger strode forward to meet them.

“Thank goodness,” Aranwen said, her own anxieties falling away as she approached, “My diversion seemed to work, perhaps too effectively given that I was mistaken for you and ambushed; but how did you fare?”

“We fared fine,” Kith returned, her hands resting on the hilts of her daggers. She arched a curious brow, then; “Say, Aranwen, who is Morgana? She mentioned something about Ch’dau being like you," she chuckled sardonically, "I don’t remember fully because I had nearly been knocked unconscious before she tied up Ch’dau and nearly put us all to sleep in the apothecary.” She shrugged, “Any of this ringing a bell, maybe?”

“Damn that witch,” the Syl’s eyes narrowed and her features hardened at the mention of Morgana, “Thirty years... thirty years, no sign of her, no way to find her, no way to track her down, and now, all of a sudden, she shows up here.”

“Wonderful,” Kith sighed. Echoing Ch’dau’s own grunt and chuff of a reaction.

Aranwen’s eyes darted away, scrutinizing their surroundings for a moment, before falling back on Kith.  "One terrible memory, her name and the look of that mask most don't know. Or those that do stay silent. I only know that she's a formidable mercenary. After her puppet confirmed I wasn't you, she said I wasn't part of her contract and left me in the alley she ambushed me in. I can only guess that Adedre hired her.

If we're dealing with her, of all things...” the bladesinger seemed to shudder as she spoke, “we got lucky... but we can't rely on Heren'salkya's favour against the likes of her.”

An old enemy, then, Ch’dau surmised, watching as the woman began to pace again, and all too familiar despite thirty years, it would seem.

“If Adedre did hire Morgana, then we need to take out Adedre as soon as we can,” the bladesinger fumed, “If we kill her, we get rid of Morgana's source of payment. If she gets nothing out of her efforts, she leaves. I've seen it before.

Oh I'd love to take my sword to the smug face behind that mask if I could...” She muttered, her eyes burning with a simmering fury.

Beneath the cloak, Ch’dau’s ears flicked and his tail twitched; a smile in response to the Syl’s fury.

“Thirty years?” Kithran asked, slightly mollified after the bladesinger’s rant, “You’ve been searching for that thing for thirty years?” She crossed her arms, “Then are you sure you’d like to lose her again like this? Personally, all I really need from Adedre is a book, but I also need to stay inconspicuous here in Davnor, and being chased by mercenaries and skeletons makes that difficult. Plus, she locked my friend Samuel up and I simply cannot have that act go unpunished. Killing her is a must for me.” She shrugged, “Perhaps we can pry a few answers from her though before we make her insides into her outsides?”

"Adedre's just an employer," Aranwen mused, "Aside how she contacted Morgana in the first place, I don't know how much she'd truly know. We can at least try and ask, if there's an opportunity."

"I'm not worried about making such an opportunity happen," Aranwen added, looking to Ch'dau then to Kithran, "Not if it puts you both at risk. In any case, I have a suspicion the slavers likewise may have a connection to her, if only by other contracts."

Ch’dau offered a faint shake of his head; “Do not worry about putting me at risk, rrow’ka. Kazari live for such things.”

"It's possible Morgana may approach me again of her own accord, some time later," Aranwen continued, gritting her teeth, "... She was surprised to see me alive, and offered a deal as she put it. 'Life for a life' - pledge my life to her and she'd see Saeriel restored. Ludicrous and impossible.

But that can be dealt with later.”

 “Either way,” Kith sighed, “time is not on our side, but hopefully your Helen Skalise is and can shine some light on our next big endeavor. Namely, how the hell we’re supposed to get back in there.” She packs some of the dirt beneath her foot and crouches down, drawing a rough outline of Adedre’s estate, “As you mentioned earlier Aranwen, the ancient tunnel I crawled through to get in there has likely been blocked by now. And I wouldn’t recommend it anyway. Thank you all for not mentioning the stench, by the way.”

“I lived in the bitch’s dungeon for Rrowl knows how long,” Ch’dau snorted, “I have smelled far worse, Little Kitten.”

"Haren'salkya," Aranwen repeated, before adding, "Fortune's dancer, I believe she is also referred to by Shinara."

"And in a strange twist of fortune, knowing that Morgana is after you two does give us one possible opportunity," Aranwen observed, "From what you've told me, she tried to capture, not kill, so Adedre clearly wants you brought back alive. If we could make a mask that looked like Morgana's, perhaps they'd simply open the gate for us if we walked up to it. Not unlike the first time I gained entry, posing as a city guard."

“If they don’t smell me coming it will be a miracle. Anyway, I believe there is only one way into the courtyard area, and that is through the main gate, guarded here,” she marks the position in her dirt replication and looks up at Aranwen, “If you remember another, please correct me. You may do so from the comfort of where you stand, I will not subject you to my aromatic essence down here.” She points again to the square that represents the manor, “There is a front and back entrance, both guarded. And we know that here--unless they’ve spent the day repairing this or she has some sort of window repair magic--is a massive Kazari and Kith-sized hole.”

She stands back up and dusts off her hands, “We have the majority of the day ahead of us, though nightfall will offer us the most cover. Of course, they are dark and evil things, so the night will likely benefit them as well. Additionally, her terrifying lair will likely be more heavily fortified than usual." She looks up in thought, "Then again, maybe not? Who would be foolish enough to return to such a horrifying place the day after such a narrow escape? Idiots, that’s who.” She grinned, “I normally find a hole to sneak through and wing the rest. While that worked seamlessly last time, as it always does, it will be nice to go in with a plan for once. Alright, my savage mercenary Kazari and tactical warrior bladesinger, thoughts?”

The Kazari pondered the crude map for a moment, then snorted and turned his gaze toward where the walls of the Undolithe estate rose not far away. “Perhaps we do not bother with any of the known entrances,” he offered, crouching down beside Kith and extending a claw to draw a rough representation of the walls around her map, “It may serve us better to climb over a section of the walls where there are likely to be fewer eyes, observe whatever patrols might have been set, and determine an appropriate entry point from there.”

"Haren'salkya," Aranwen corrected the thief’s mispronunciation, "Fortune's dancer, I believe she is also referred to by Shinara."

Kithran’s nose scrunched disgustedly at the sound of the luck goddess’ name, you just can’t let me be, can you?

The bladesinger continued, "And in a strange twist of fortune, knowing that Morgana is after you two does give us one possible opportunity. From what you've told me, she tried to capture, not kill, so Adedre clearly wants you brought back alive. If we could make a mask that looked like Morgana's, perhaps they'd simply open the gate for us if we walked up to it. Not unlike the first time I gained entry, posing as a city guard."

“Ah, I see why you were looking for a mask now! And you said you weren’t preparing for a party, Aranwen,” she shook her head and grinned at her, “Anyway, I think that could work. You would need to tie us up and perhaps don a costume. Her guard thus far have not proven themselves to be too clever though, so it likely would not have to be too intricate. Those skeletal creatures she commands though, I haven’t a clue what sort of detection abilities they have . . . ”

Ch’dau suddenly snorted beside her, “Perhaps we do not bother with any of the known entrances,” he crouched down, drawing the walls around the the Undolithe estate, “It may serve us better to climb over a section of the walls where there are likely to be fewer eyes, observe whatever patrols might have been set, and determine an appropriate entry point from there.”

Kithran nodded, “A little reconnaissance wouldn’t hurt. I know the insides of the manor fairly well, it is the guard outside I am truly wary of.” She looks back up at the bladesinger, “I am sure you were fairly preoccupied before, but can you remember about how many you faced when you stormed through the front gate last night?”

((OOC: A’s answer))

The half-Sylvari nodded, “And we can assume both that and the guard inside have been reinforced--not to mention the likes of that bone monstrosity that chased us out of the window” She ponders for a moment, crossing her arms then looking at Mosic, “Cleric, undead monsters, have you anything that might protect us from such horrors?”

Mosic nods his blonde head without hesitation, “The Helping Hand can aid us in the ability both to turn and destroy undead, however, I am limited in the number of times I can use it, as it consumes quite a bit of energy, so I will defer to you as to the most beneficial time to use it.”

Kithran scoffed, but it was largely at herself, “I must in turn defer to the honorable ones for that judgement,” she nods to the Sylvari and Kazari, “My first experience with the undead was only last night, and they are terrifying. If I were in charge of your ability to destroy them, I’d be forcing you to do it at the very first, very slightest shuffling of feet.” She shivered at the thought of those empty eye sockets and continued.

“The wall isn’t too high, a couple of us could probably have a peek over while the others kept a lookout. I enjoy climbing quite a bit, so I will volunteer to be one of peekers.” She looks at the others, and the wall beyond them, rising up to guard the creatures within, “Perhaps a blending of the plans is in order. Say we attempt to be as sneaky as possible--go over the wall, take the back entrances or climb through a window, all of that--but if we are caught, we have the mask available for Aranwen to disguise herself?”

((OOC: discussion, but I will assume we are all on board for now. If not, I will revise!))

Kithran grins and claps her hands together once, “Sounds like we have a plan! Though,” and she looks back to the bladesinger and sighs, “Perhaps we should split up once more in order to find you a mask? I can lead you to the shop with all of the random items, Aranwen, while the gentlemen here scamper up that wall. We may be able to find another place with medical supplies that isn’t full of frightening puppets as well.”

The idea of splitting up again was far from appealing, but stacking the odds in their favor before the four of them raided a puppet witch-enforced necromancer’s lair certainly was. There was a brief moment she wondered at the risk she was taking for a simple book. The bladesinger wanted to irradicate the evil within, to end Adedre’s terror over the town. Kithran just wanted to be left alone while she sought who she sought. The Kazari wanted his revenge and blood. While fun, it was not enough to get Kithran over that wall.

No, Kithran needed knowledge. She was unable to give up because those mystery keepers had information worth more to her than honor or blood. She needed retribution. But first, she needed that book.

“Ah, I see why you were looking for a mask now! And you said you weren’t preparing for a party, Aranwen,”

Aranwen had given Kithran a quisitive glance as she saw how she had scrunched her face slightly, but at mention of Aranwen's search for a mask, Aranwen shook her head, "It wasn't for this. Morgana gets her clients somehow... and I think one of the ways she does it is by having one of her masks act as proxy. I thought, if I could get one of her masks..." she frowned, "Well, I hadn't figured out what I'd do with it. It's not like stabbing it would kill her."

* * *

Kithran nodded, “A little reconnaissance wouldn’t hurt. I know the insides of the manor fairly well, it is the guard outside I am truly wary of.” She looks back up at the bladesinger, “I am sure you were fairly preoccupied before, but can you remember about how many you faced when you stormed through the front gate last night?”

"Not many, at the time I barely saw any. Perhaps a generous count would put it at a dozen on patrol if I were to estimate more than I saw; but then, with what you told me, most of them would have been inside searching for you at the time, so I can't truly be certain of the numbers here," Aranwen replied

* * *

Aranwen couldn't help but giggle at the suggestion of going over the wall, "I apologize," She offered, "It seems I've grown so accustomed to the streets and paths made by people, it didn't even occur to me that such a thing would be possible."

She paused a moment as she considered, "No, we should not split up. Splitting up is what Morgana would want us to do, as we've already seen. She always has another puppet in play; when you think she's made her move, she has something else in play. It's impossible to read her movements with those constructs."

That's why we failed, all those years ago... we didn't know there were more than one, Aranwen grit her teeth.

"I think we must move as quick as we are able; as strange as it sounds, we are most vulnerable outside of Adedre's keep than inside. Outside, Morgana will search for us and try to ambush us again, and we can't be certain of when or where she will strike. If we are inside, yes we deal with Adedre's forces, but those are mostly known, and much preferable to deal with than Morgana. So if we've the means, we should try to scale those walls," Aranwen reasoned, before looking to Ch'dau with a smile, "I never would have thought of such a course of action myself," she admitted.

"Well, I hadn't figured out what I'd do with it. It's not like stabbing it would kill her."

Ch’dau gave a faint shake of his shaggy head. If it cannot be killed by a blade, he murmurmed softly to himself, then why are we fighting it?

Things like this do not happen on Capasha, he mused, or, at least, they have not for quite some time.

Kithran nodded, “A little reconnaissance wouldn’t hurt. I know the insides of the manor fairly well, it is the guard outside I am truly wary of.” She looked back up at the bladesinger, “I am sure you were fairly preoccupied before, but can you remember about how many you faced when you stormed through the front gate last night?”

"Not many, at the time I barely saw any. Perhaps a generous count would put it at a dozen on patrol if I were to estimate more than I saw; but then, with what you told me, most of them would have been inside searching for you at the time, so I can't truly be certain of the numbers here," Aranwen replied.

“I would imagine that, with Adedre depending on this Morgana to deal with us outside her walls,” Ch’dau chuffed, “her patrols within will be weak. At least between the walls and the manor. Once within, we may very well encounter heavier resistsance.

Perhaps we do not bother with any of the known entrances,” he offered, then, crouching down beside Kith and extending a claw to draw a rough representation of the walls around her map, “It may serve us better to climb over a section of the walls where there are likely to be fewer eyes, observe whatever patrols might have been set, and determine an appropriate entry point from there.”

Aranwen couldn't help but giggle at the suggestion of going over the wall, "I apologize," She offered, "It seems I've grown so accustomed to the streets and paths made by people, it didn't even occur to me that such a thing would be possible."

 “A little reconnaissance wouldn’t hurt,” Kithran nodded, “I know the insides of the manor fairly well, it is the guard outside I am truly wary of.” She looked back up at the bladesinger, “I am sure you were fairly preoccupied before, but can you remember about how many you faced when you stormed through the front gate last night?”

"Not many, at the time I barely saw any. Perhaps a generous count would put it at a dozen on patrol if I were to estimate more than I saw; but then, with what you told me, most of them would have been inside searching for you at the time, so I can't truly be certain of the numbers here," Aranwen replied.

The Syl woman paused a moment as she considered, "No, we should not split up. Splitting up is what Morgana would want us to do, as we've already seen. She always has another puppet in play; when you think she's made her move, she has something else in play. It's impossible to read her movements with those constructs.

I think we must move as quick as we are able; as strange as it sounds, we are most vulnerable outside of Adedre's keep than inside. Outside, Morgana will search for us and try to ambush us again, and we can't be certain of when or where she will strike. If we are inside, yes we deal with Adedre's forces, but those are mostly known, and much preferable to deal with than Morgana. So if we've the means, we should try to scale those walls," Aranwen reasoned, before looking to Ch'dau with a smile, "I never would have thought of such a course of action myself," she admitted.

The Silver Cat shrugged faintly. “A jungle of stone and timber is not that different than one of tree and vine, khatun,” he rumbled, “The best approaches are typically the same, regardless of terrain.”

Mosic rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, his gaze dancing between the crude map and his new companions for a moment. “I can’t say that I’m much of a warrior,” he said after a minute, “but I think our friend, Samuel, here, has the right of it. We might be better off coming at this Adedre from an angle she may not expect.”

He gestured to the various gates and other obvious entrances indicated on Kith’s map. “Any forces she might have will likely be concentrated in these places and, while the ruse that Lady Galandel suggested might work, it would also serve to alert the witch that we are within the walls before we wish her to know such things.” The little priest shrugged; “Speaking of being prepared, I must admit a short rest and some time spent in prayer might make me more useful to all of you in this venture. I’ve depleted myself a bit in tending your injuries, my friends, and some time communing with Falloes before we go charging into battle, again, would serve us well.”

Morgana slowly descended down the spiral staircase at the edges of her tower, her eyes distant in thought. A voice behind her gave her pause, "If you know where she is, and she hasn't moved in a while, you could reason that she's with your prey, couldn't you?"

Morganna nodded, looking over her shoulder to the tall, raven haired human woman behind her, "Indeed, Spiderlily; I do suspect as such."

"Then why the hesitation?" Spiderlily replied, lifting a slender finger to her chin as she kept the hem of her embroidered dress held in the other, "This is unusual for you," she mused, giving a sly smile.

Morgana gave a shrug of her shoulders as she continued her descent, "It's an unusual situation. If it were normal, I'd already be handing over the targets. No, these four... their spirits are far stronger than most. They resisted me, and now they are wary. Were I to make a move now, they would know what to do," Morganna shook her head and frowned, "No... if I am to succeed, it must be a move they don't know what to do with. I must be patient. Wait for the opportunity to present itself...

Though, I admit, I do wonder how worthwhile this venture may be. Adedre clearly underestimated them," Morgana added, stepping on to the lower floor hallway, "They also do not flee the city. That tells me that they yet have business there... vengeance, perhaps?"

"Perhaps so."

Morgana fell silent as she continued to walk forward, down another stairwell, and into a household proper. Bits of fabric and skeins of thread littered about every visible corner, but such didn't bother Morgana. She stepped lightly on the clear floor, moving up to a cupboard in her reach. Tightly woven threads unwound themselves at her touch, and she opened the wooden door, withdrawing a single skein from within. The multicoloured thread glowed a faint blue upon the metal spindle.

"What are you planning?" Spiderlily asked, looking over Morgana with idle curiosity.

"I'm not sure yet, my dear A'nia," Morgana replied, the glow of the thread reflecting in her eyes as she turned the skein around in her hands, "Truth be told, I am a bit impatient."

"That one called Aranwen knows your offer. Let it sit in her mind. Let it linger, and she will come to us eventually," Spiderlily cooed, placing a hand on Morgana's shoulder.

"Aranwen?"

Spiderlily and Morgana turned to the owner of the gentle, melodic voice - a red haired Sylvari woman with distant, violet eyes.

"Yes, Sae," Morgana gave a warm smile, "Just wait a little bit longer. You will see Aranwen again soon..."

"No, we should not split up.” Aranwen remarked decisively, “Splitting up is what Morgana would want us to do, as we've already seen. She always has another puppet in play; when you think she's made her move, she has something else in play. It's impossible to read her movements with those constructs.”

Kithran looked beyond her at the wall of the estate once more, and nodded seriously. The chance to climb something she was absolutely not allowed to had always been thrilling to her, but she had been hoping if they went back into town she might actually have a chance to pilfer a new cloak. She sighed in resignation to her cloakless fate as she listened to Aranwen continue in her reasoning and their deciding to take the wall as their entry point.

“Speaking of being prepared,” the Cidal priest now said, “I must admit a short rest and some time spent in prayer might make me more useful to all of you in this venture. I’ve depleted myself a bit in tending your injuries, my friends, and some time communing with Falloes before we go charging into battle, again, would serve us well.”

Kithran looked up, determining it was only just after noon, and so they would have some time to spare indeed. She shrugged, “I am comfortable with that idea, Mosic, how much time would you need?”

“Hmm,” he rubbed his chin once more, “seven to eight hours should suffice.”

“S-Seven to eight . . . I am uncomfortable again. What are you two going to do while we wait?” She asks the Kazari and Sylvari as she pulls out her daggers, “Samuel, you wanna lose a fight? Oh, actually,” she resheathes her blades, “let’s fight when I get back. I am going to go find a cloak. Unless . . .” she looks pointedly at Aranwen’s bag, “If you can manage not to cry, I will take you back up on your offer?”

Kithran can’t tell if the bladesinger’s initial expression is one of irritation or humor at her jab, but she shakes her head either way, "Morgana has seen both of us wearing my cloak, so if you grab one, make sure it's not black," Aranwen suggested.

“Well then,” Kith claps her hands together once more, an eager grin spreading across her face, “I will be off then.” She jogs toward a corner in the opposite direction from which she, Ch’dau, and Mosic had come from, “I shouldn’t be too long, and I’ll stay nearby, but do not hesitate to rush valiantly in to rescue me if you hear me calling for Samuel.” And with that Kith rushed around the corner and into a small alley leading to the main streets.

((OOC: interject throughout that as you wish, restless Kith has her mind pretty made up, but I’ll revise as necessary!))

The day was wearing on and the streets were blessedly much more busy and easier to sink into. Of course, she also did not have in tow an armored bladesinger, a massive Kazari, or a cleric who despite his size was somehow as conspicuous as the others. It was easier to move not having to care about leading others through these streets, and it did not take long for Kith to find her target.

She was shorter than Kith, though most women were, but her cloak was finely made and would hopefully not stand out too much as she snuck around the halls of the necromancer’s lair. Green was of course not her preferred color, but Aranwen was probably right about staying away from the black for now. The dark green would look fantastic on her either way. Kithran would just need to do a simple “accidental bump”, loosen the tie in their fumble, and pull it away as she walked off. A trickier move, but then, Kith was incredibly snea--

“Whadd’re you doing, Kith-an?”

“Oh sh--!” Kithran nearly leaped into an oncoming cart at the sound of the little voice below her. She spun around and glared at the messy-haired little girl, relaxing as recognition came over her, “Oh, it’s just you. What are you doing? Didn’t Aranwen tell you to go find your parents or something?” She looked up at the cloak drifting further and further away from her and began trying to follow it once again.

The unassumingly sneaky little child skipped to keep up with her, “Pfft, I go where I wanna.”

“You think you might wanna go away?”

"I asked you first!" the little girl giggled and gave a carefree smile, lifting her arms behind her head, "Whadd're you doing?" she asked again, looking up at Kithran with sparkling eyes, "Shopping? Hiding? Looking for something?"

“Ah,” Kith replied, glancing down at the girl, then back to the fleeing cloak, “yes. Each of those things.” And she sighed as it turned the corner and the throng of patrons she had just been so grateful for hindered her advancement.

She stopped and glared at the space her cloak had been before crouching down in front of the girl, “I am a little busy, Saina. So unless you truly need something of me, or have a me-sized cloak laying about, I regretfully must take my leave.” She gave her a small wave, “So long,” and stood to weave her way back into the crowd.

Kithran felt a light tug at her pant leg, "Cloak? You size? Maybe at mom's store," the girl suggested, "Mom's always busy. Sewing or talking or sewing or talking. Buy this sell that, blah blah blah blah."

Kith crouched down again just as Saina stuck out her tongue in a huff, "So boring."

She looked up at Kithran, "What do you think?"

“Buying sounds terrible, but selling can be a great deal of fun. You seem to enjoy talking and are rather persistent yourself, Sai, I’m surprised you don’t find it more interesting.

Saina crossed her arms and huffed, "I ask things, want to know interesting things! Buy sell talk is just, how much, oh it's this much but maybe for you it can be this much, or other not interesting things."

“No, that is not interesting," Kithran agreed, "but convincing others that they are getting a deal on an item they did not want but that you have convinced them was their idea to purchase, that is a thrill.” She grinned at the girl’s unimpressed face, “Your mother, she sews? Sells clothing? Will you take me to her store?”

Looking at Kithran she nodded happily, "This way! This way!"

As Saina began to expertly weave around the legs of the various patrons, she certainly seemed to have the air of a Lover of Fortune about her with how unconcerned she was for her safety, which Kithran could appreciate. It was impressive, and reminiscent, as Kithran had done much the same through the dense streets and rooftops of Calestra at just about the same age. A darkness fell over her features at the thought of that beautiful city. Ten years was not enough space between them. She shook her head and the memories away, focusing on the back of the quick little girl’s head instead until they are before the Starsilks Store.

The exterior looks less a small store and more a small mansion. The wooden door swings inward, opening to a fresh scent of spring flowers as the connected bell chimes inside. 

Racks of untailored clothing line the opposite walls, all visibly high quality, many embellished with fine embroidery. There are all manner of clothes here - tops, bottoms, skirts, dresses, evening gowns, and even what could only be an extravagant wedding dress displayed as the jewel of the floor, adorned by a wooden mannequin in the middle of the room.

For a mercy, the display mannequins, numbering five in total, have neither mask nor head, made of unmoving polished wood. Kithran halts suddenly, regardless, and brings her hands to the hilts of her daggers just in case.

Saina poked Kithran lightly, "Psst, message to Kith, why'd you stop? Something wrong? Or are you surprised how pretty it is?"

“What?” Kithran pulled her eyes away from the headless horrors and looked back down at the girl, “Oh, yes, very lovely. So where ar--”

"I'll be with you in just a moment!" a voice called from the back. 

Saina wandered a bit further inside and as a familiar garb of reds and silvers caught Kithran’s eye, the girl called back, "It's just me! Not a cushtomer!"

"Ah, welcome back dear."

With a wink behind her to Kithran she pointed towards one of the racks - this one with a selection of fine cloaks. Saina kept walking and disappeared past the doorway leading further in to the mansion.

Kithran’s eyes were fixed on the outfit, somehow overshadowing her desire for a cloak. At least momentarily. She wandered over to examine it. The designs, the color pattern, the cut. She could have been back in Tara’s room at the Long Gamble, staring at her ceremonial Laughing Maiden garb hanging on the wall. She felt her heart begin to race at the thought . . . at how assured she was that it might even smell like--

Kith shook her head again. She had left them for a cloak and was finding only ghosts. The thief took a deep breath and turned to softly call out to the little girl, trying not to disturb her mother, “Saina, can you tell me about this item? Did your mother make this? Why does she have it?”

Saina peeked her head back out of the inner doorway at hearing her name, and then skipped back over to Kithran to take a look at what she saw, "That? Yes, mom made it," she shrugged her shoulders, "Why? I dunno. It was made a while ago. When not for someone, she often makes things she's seen before. Or things out of in-in.. Uh, in-spear? Things she thinks might be bought by someone maybe."

Kithran touched the fabric lightly, then pulled her hand away as if shocked. It was so close to perfect. Not exact, but too much for her now. She turned back toward the cloaks and plastered a grin on her face, “Sorry, I used to know someone who wore something like that, but that was also a long time ago. Now," she clapped her hands together once, "I believe there are some cloaks calling my name.” And she made her way to the racks draped in various, elegantly made cloaks.

As she sifted through she couldn’t help but dwell on how lucky it was that Saina had fallen into their path. Sure it was simply for a piece of clothing, but . . . she ground her teeth. No, it was coincidence. Not luck. Go away.

It hadn’t been so long since she had left the others, but the Lovers, the Maidens, Calestra, Shinara, Tara, him . . . everything she had worked so hard not to think about now crowded her mind. She shook her head again and pulled away a navy blue cloak, tossing it over her shoulders and tying it on.

She grinned at the little girl as she flipped the hood up and in one swift motion, drew her blades and jumped down into a crouched, attacking position.

“What do you think? If I look anything less than incredible, you must let me know.”

Saina gave a soft ooh as she clapped her hands together, softly so as not to let the sound echo back through the mansion. She circled around Kithran, examining her from all angles, "You look danger-us," the girl replied, her face beaming at Kithran, "You like? Where're your friends? Shouldn't they see too? They should see! Ara should see!"

Kithran nodded and stood back up, pulling her hood back as she did so, “Yes, you are right, little one. They are likely in a frenzy worrying about me now.”

Saina twirled about on one foot happily.

Kith waited for her to come back to a halt and crouched down before her, “Very well done, Saina! Now, I know you despise this part, but I would like to offer you payment for this fantastic cloak.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the pouch she had swiped from the little girl as they had first entered the store, “Will this suffice?”

"That looks like..." Saina's hands went to her waist band, patting the now empty space. Her eyes widened in surprise and awe as she looked up at Kithran, "Hooooooow?!" she asked, reaching out to receive the pouch back.

Kithran laughed quietly as she handed the pouch over and wriggled her fingers in the girl’s face, “Magic.” She sprung back up , “I should be off then, thank you Saina. If you can’t seem to stay near your mother, at the very least try to stay safe. Goodbye!”

Saina giggled, "Magic! Show me again some time!" she begged as Kithran went to the door, before offering a wave "Bye-bye!"

Kith slipped the dark blue hood of the finely-made cloak over her head, and slinked out of the store. She felt the heavy flow of traffic once again obscure her and weaved through it toward the small garden. Judging by the amount of people and the brightness of the sky, she hadn’t been away for too long, but she was curious at what they had been up to.

Kithran had begun to enter the alleyway and noticed . . . that it would not be too difficult to climb to the roof. Just an easy pounce off that cart, and a scramble up that ledge . . . Kith ducked down as she reached the top, drawing her new bow and setting an arrow. Just a little arrow, right by the cat. She would aim a safe distance away, but close enough to prove to him that she was not such a little ki--

“Kithran,” the bladesinger calls up to her, “I see you up there. What are you doing?”

Kith stands, irritatedly tossing the bow back over her shoulder and the arrow back in its quiver, “How, Aranwen?!” Her plot dismantled, she finds her way down and jogs back over to the others.

"I ran into your little girl, Aranwen, that Saina, and took this from her mother's shop." She steps back and turns, holding her arms out to show off the dark blue cloak, "Nice, huh?" She hops back over to them, "So, what did you talk about while I was away? Was it me?"

The Cleric of Falloes’ suggestion of a rest prior to their storming of the Undolithe estate met a mixed reception. On one hand, there had been no disagreement that a respite would do them all some good. On the other hand, the little priest said he would need seven or eight hours and that didn’t seem to sit precisely well with Kithran.

“S-Seven to eight,” the thief gawked, almost blinking in disbelief, “I am uncomfortable again.”

Still crouched by the map drawn in the garden’s dirt, Ch’dau snorted out a short chuckle and gave a faint shake of his head. “Patience, Little Kitten,” he rumbled, erasing the map with the swipe of a paw before getting to his feet and turning his eyes skyward, “Khr’a’s Right Eye is still wide open. Seven or eight hours will certainly see it closed and, then, we will also have darkness to our advantage, yes?”

“What are you two going to do while we wait?” Kithran asked, bouncing on her toes and tugging her daggers free. She didn’t wait for an answer before barreling into her next question. “Samuel, you wanna lose a fight?..”

This evoked another chuckle from the Kazari and, again, that same slow shake of his head as he folded his arms across his chest.

“…Oh, actually,” the frenetic footpad continued before he could reply, “let’s fight when I get back. Unless . . .” her ebon eyes turned pointedly to Aranwen’s bag, “If you can manage not to cry, I will take you back up on your offer?”

“Morgana has seen both of us wearing my cloak,” the Bladesinger answered, “so if you grab one, make sure it’s not black.”

“Well then,” Kithran said with a clap of her hands and an impish grin blossoming on her lips, “I will be off then.” With that she turned and bounded off, pausing only long enough to call back over her shoulder; “I shouldn’t be too long, and I’ll stay nearby, but do not hesitate to rush valiantly in to rescue me if you hear me calling for Samuel.”

 “Samuel will be there, kibibi,” The Silver Cat chuffed, lifting a paw in acknowledgement.

As he watched Kithran skitter away into Davnor’s streets, once more, Ch’dau refolded his arms across his chest, gave another chuckle, and turned his gaze on Aranwen. “How that girl has the patience for thievery,” he rumbled softly, “only Keziri knows.”

Aranwen nodded in agreement, giving a soft giggle herself, "The boundless energy of youth... without the wisdom of age for patience," she mused, "It's almost like looking in an odd mirror, in a way. I was no thief, but I was very impatient when I was young. Impatient to grow, impatient to prove myself ready before the eyes of the blademaster."

She looked over at Ch'dau, "What of you?" She asked, curiously, "You are skilled in battle now, and by what you shared earlier no stranger to hunting, but what of when you were younger?"

Aranwen sat at one of the nearby benches. Though she looked to relax, her head and eyes continued to scan their surroundings, looking one way then the other, maintaining a constant vigil over her companions.

Ch’dau offered a shrug at the golden-eyed warrior’s question and, as she retreated, followed her to the bench. “Much the same, I suppose,” he mused, settling in on the bench beside the Sylvari woman, “Anxious. Eager.”

His own gaze skimmed over the garden and the thoroughfares beyond. Before it returned to Aranwen, though, it settled on the diminutive blonde Cidal who currently knelt beside a well pruned hedge, apparently offering up devotions to his god… So much time kneeling, the Kazari thought, and not enough just accepting that your gods are watching. And so many of them, too! I fear none of what these monkeys do will ever make sense… He might have sighed, then, and, at last, his turquoise eyes fell back upon the golden ones of the Sylvari at his side. “When I was young, khatun,” he said after a moment, “I had not the considerations that seem common, here, amongst your kind.

I learned to hunt. I learned to fight. I learned the history of my clan. These were the things that were important.

This magic,” he nodded toward the praying Cid and, then, glanced briefly at the walls of Adedre’s compound, “This is a thing for khr’dun… how do you say? Shamans?.... and gods… and the Others. It is not something that, as cubs, we encounter often.” He shrugged again. “Here, though, it seems almost to be expected.

Even in my youngest of years,” he confessed, then, the words almost a whisper, “I was never led to believe that such things would be as common as they seem to be in your world.”

The cat-man’s head tilted curiously, then, and he studied the Sylvari’s face for a long moment. “Tell me, Aranwen,” he purred, “has magic always been so on Antaron? Is it the same among your people?”

Aranwen paused a moment as she returned Ch'dau's gaze, her golden eyes fading in thought, "Of the Sylvari too, there are those who dedicate their lives to their chosen god, clerics of many different paths. But, aside the power granted to them, other magics are very sparse. We feel that our gods take part in every aspect of our lives," She looked up, "You called that..." a pause for a moment as she tried to wrap her voice about the foreign word, "Keer'a's right eye?" She asked, "For that to be but the eye..." She paused as she tried, and failed to grasp the enormity of such a being. Such things were easier for Saeriel to visualize, "The ones we know seem much more specialized in their roles. The dancer of fortune, the lord of the trees who oversees the changing seasons..." She looked to Mosic, "The hand that aids those lost or in need..."

Aranwen looked back to Ch'dau, looking to his blue eyes, "But it has not always been so, if the older stories are to be believed. Those very old stories that you cannot be sure of how true they are, with how unbelievable they sound. A time so very long ago, where magic was as easy to grasp as breathing, where the very essense of magic lingered in the air, ground, and people. This was before the conflicts between people escalated, and then magic, the magical beings and ambient energies both, left Antaron, perhaps even left this world."

"I have to admit, it is almost too fantastic to believe," Aranwen offered with the shrug of a shoulder, "But she... Saeriel... she was an avid reader, and she showed me a book. A book that could not have been made with any craft or magic we know. An impossible book. And there are some stories of those who go missing, perhaps stumbling into that other realm, that realm of magic, wild and dangerous... at least, that's what it seems of those that return to speak of it."

“Hm,” the Kazari chuffed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he tried to wrap his mind around all of what Aranwen had just said. “I suppose I can relate to at least some of that,” he said after a moment, “When I first awoke, here, I thought I might be in that magical realm you spoke of. Monkeys who wear finely crafted armor, wield forged steel, and build great cities of stone are not things I would ever have thought to see.

 “And when I first encountered your folk,” he chuckled softly, then, turning his gaze back to Aranwen, “I was almost certain that I had fallen into some strange dream or that Khr’a had taken me away to show me some other world She had fashioned. Had I not discovered that there were other Kazari who had found themselves here, I never would have believed that we shared a world.”

Aranwen could not help but giggle at the description Ch'dau gave of Antaron. If all of his kind were as he looked, it served to reason that the species of Antaron would look as monkeys to them, "It is interesting to hear what it all looks like from someone to whom such sights are unusual and new. Even in the forests of the three kingdoms of the Sylvari, we are born in our dwellings and acclimate rapidly to what has been made by hands before our own, so quickly that we may not ever think of it..."

Once more, Aranwen's gaze scanned their surroundings. This time however, she was looking less for any new and suspicious presences, and instead looked with fresh eyes at where they were. She might not have completely grasped what it was she felt then, but it was a strange sensation.

Turning back to Ch'dau, Aranwen gave a warm smile, "But if you have stumbled upon a dream, I only hope it will be a good one," she offered, her eyes warm and sincere, "Even if recent experiences might suggest otherwise."

“It is getting better,” the Kazari purred, his ears and tail twitching as he nodded at Aranwen.

She held a hand to her chest; the words she spoke were as much for herself as for Ch'dau, "I was wondering though, that word you used in reference to me, Khatun, what does it mean?" She asked.

“Khatun,” Ch’dau repeated, “is a title of respect and honor. There are a few words in this Apanonese that mean the same… leader… commander… chief…”

Aranwen blinked, taken aback at being given such a title, "And you mean me?" She asked, "Are you sure? Such a title doesn't sound one to be given lightly..." she trailed off, uncertainty plain on her face and in her eyes.

The Silver Cat shrugged. “I have been fighting for as long as I can remember,” he said, “and, as a fighter, I am good. It does not take much to fight, though; a strong arm, a willingness to kill…” A faint chuffing sound, not quite a chuckle, escaped him then, as if he had suddenly come to finaly realize the truth of what he said next; “…the determination to live through today in order to fight, again, tomorrow. Simple things.

To lead, though,” his gaze dropped to where her hand rested on her chest for an instant and, then, lifted back to catch her eyes, again, “takes much more. I have not known you long, Aranwen, but, already, I have seen all of what it means to be a leader and more in you. I have served under many, fought alongside more, and in the few hours I have spent in your company, you have already surpassed the wisdom of them all.”

The Sylvari Bladesinger gave a soft sound, it seemed an embarrassed chuckle, her head bowed slightly, "I am honoured that you think so..." In her heart she wanted to object, to give voice to the concern that she was not truly qualified, but in this moment, she felt Ch'dau's sincerity in his words, and the warmth in them... it felt good. For the first time in a long while, she felt the flame within her kindled, and strong. She nodded, "Then, I will do my utmost to be worthy of the name," She promised, "For you, Mosic, and -"

“Were you not worthy, Aranwen Galandel,” Ch’dau rumbled pointedly, “I would not name you so. I owe you as much a debt as Kithran, it seems.” He lifted a hand and rested it lightly on the womans shoulder, his eyes fixed on hers; “I will fight beside you to the end, my Khatun, and, with honor, give my life at your command. My blood is yours, just as yours is mine.”

Aranwen blinked, as if the oath he’d just pledged was both unexpected and unworthy of being sworn to her. Her mouth hung open for a moment and several words began to form but never quite finished before, beneath the hood, Ch’dau winked. “All this means, khatun, is that is my pleasure to fight at your side for however long that may be.”

She smiled, perhaps a bit more at ease with the ‘responsibility’ with which he may have unwittingly burdened her than she had been at first. Then, deftly, turned the conversation to other topics.

Over the next short while, Ch’dau and Aranwen chatted idly, learning little bits of each other with each turn of phrase. While they chatted, Aranwen's hands were busy, putting knots into a length of rope she had retrieved from her pack. So it went until, during one of the Bladesinger’s perpetual scans of their surroundings, movement caught her eye, and she immediately turned, her head lifting towards the nearby rooftop. A skulking and mischievous figure already familiar to her was crouched up above, a young woman who clearly thought herself better hidden than she was, "Kithran!" She called up, "I see you up there. What are you doing?”

As Ch’dau’s gaze tracked the path Ara’s had taken, he spotted Kith’s form silhouetted against the sky as she rose from a crouch on a nearby rooftop.

“How, Aranwen?!” the rogue demanded, irritatedly tossing the bow back over her shoulder and the arrow back in its quiver. Her plot dismantled, she finds her way down and jogs back over to the others.

"I ran into your little girl, Aranwen, that Saina, and took this from her mother's shop." She steps back and turns, holding her arms out to show off the dark blue cloak, "Nice, huh?" She hops back over to them, "So, what did you talk about while I was away? Was it me?"

“Mostly, kibibi,” the Kazari chided, “no other subject could be quite as entertaining.”

Aranwen lifted a finger to her temples, "She's not my little girl, but at least we know she does have a parent... I did see her in the crowd before arriving here, asleep in the arms of a woman, but couldn't be sure," she gave a soft sigh, before looking over to examine Kithran's find, wandering over to test the fabric with her touch, "This is rather well made," She noted, before smiling at the half-syl, "Tightly woven, sturdy, and the fit... If I didn't know better, I'd guess that it was tailored to your size. A nice find indeed."

She had a strong feeling that in the moment that she had leaned in, Kithran's sticky fingers would have taken the silver pin placed at her belt, or possibly something from her bag, but she didn't react to it. It was simple, but well designed, shaped as a flame like would be seen on a candle, engraved so as to have depth to the flame.

"For the how," Aranwen chuckled, "You can thank Morgana for that; she ambushed me by a tripwire connected to a net placed up above in an alley, so I was being particularly watchful of the roof line."

Standing back upright, Aranwen looked once more to the walls of the estate, "If the pattern I saw continues through the eve, it seems as though there is a guard that passes across the battlements every ten minutes, moving from our left to the right. Given the leisurely pace they go, I can guess that it's one of the more relaxed, and probably coveted patrol routes in the estate. I can't say if their gaze crosses this wall again elsewhere on their patrol, but once we wait for them to pass there should be ample time to scale the wall."

"As to the scaling itself... we just need one person to get on top, secure and lower this," she offered the knotted rope she held, "and then it should not be too difficult for the rest of us to follow."

“As to the scaling itself,” Aranwen said, tugging a lentght of fine, knotted rope from her pack, “we just need one person to get on top, secure and lower this, and then it should not be too difficult for the rest of us to follow.”

Ch’dau glanced over his shoulder at the wall, seemed to consider it for a long moment and, then, with might have been seen as a slightly mischeviouc set to his features, took the rope from the Syl woman. “I have a thought,” he rumbled, unfurling the rope and beginning to re-wrap it in loose coils between his elbow and fist. “Kibibi,” he almost grinned, his eyes turning on Kithran, “you wear less armor than the rest and, therefore, are likely the lightest…” Finishing the looping of the rope and securing it’s loose ends, he reached out and slid the coil over her head and shoulder; “…I will await you at the bottom of the wall,” he suggested, “ You will get a running start, step into my hands,” the Kazari crouched, lacing his fingers together between his knees to demonstrate his proposed postioning, “and I will launch you toward the top of the wall, yes?” With those last words, he pantomimed the proposed action and, as his hands reached the apex of the ‘boost’ maneuver, he allowed them to circle around into a clap not unlike the one Kith had left he and Aranwen with hours ago. “You gain the top of the wall, secure the rope, the rest of us climb up, and we are in…”

((OOC: Assuming a “You’re going to throw me? Up there?” or some such from Kith, here.))

“Yes,” the Silver Cat nodded, almost too enthusiastically, “Unless you prefer I try and scale the wall, myself…” His turquoise eyes flitted toward the priest of Falloes, then, and he shrugged; “…Or I could toss the priest.”

“No,” Mosic said, almost instantly, “No. I choose either option that doesn’t involve me getting tossed skyward by Samuel, please.”

The kazari definitely chuckled, then. “Well, Little Kitten,” he shrugged almost tauntingly, his eyes practically glittering as they fell back upon the thief, “The choice is yours. What will it be?”

Kithran’s eyes dropped to look at the rope he had already draped over her shoulders. Lifted to consider the wall ahead. Turned over her shoulder to guage an appropriate distance for a running start and, then, with that impish grin playing on her lips, returned to regard the cat-man with a faint but self-assured nod. “Let’s do it,” she grinned. “How far up can you get me?”

Ch’dau snorted. Reached out, clamped his paws around her waist, and lifted her easily from her feet. “How far would you like to go?” he chuckled softly, setting her back to the ground.

“Just get me to the top, cat-beast,” she smirked, already backing toward the gate where the street spilled into the garden.

“Done, kibibi,” the kazari chuffed. He backed toward the wall as she backed for the street, braced his back against the wall and reassumed the stance he’d mimed earlier. Between his knees, he laced his fingers together, providing a stable platform on to which she could step and, when he was sure he was ready, his gaze lifted to meet hers and he nodded.

Across the small garden, Kithran shook her head, almost as if, in disbelief, that she had agreed to this course of action. Then, at the same time, gave a quick nod and, in a blink, sprinted forward, running at full speed toward him.

Ch’dau settled lower in his crouch, tightened the pressure of his fingers against one another and, when her toes touched his palm, lifted with all his might even as she leapt. As his eyes followed her skyward, his ears might have caught the hint of a squeal as the shadow-girl soared upward. She reached the top of the wall, stretched out a hand to grasp the stone flanking the battlement, and proceeded upward. Then, the limit of Ch’dau’s boost reached, she stopped climbing and began falling.

There was more squeak than squeal in her voice then but, even as she fell back toward the earth, Kith had the presence of mind to check the positioning of the stones that rose to meet her. As she fell, she stretched out a hand, once more, and this time, found purchase on the cold, rough, Greystone that greeted her seeking grasp. She grunted softly as her decent was suddenly halted, scowled down at the grinning Kazari through the twilight, and, after a twist of her head one way, them another, confirmed that the patrols weren’t approaching, hauled herself up and onto the narrow path formed of the estate’s battlements. She went quickly to work, tying off one end of the rope to a sturdily mortared outcropping of stone and, after a tug and test, dropped the free end off the wall to where her compatriots waited.

She readied her bow, nocking an arrow to the string, as the rope tightened, and her dark eyes slid from side to side, making sure that no patrols would catch them during their infiltration. Soon enough, Mosic appeared, huffing a bit from the effort of the climb but, still, once in a position to do so, the little Cid rolled onto the battlement and tugged his mace free, ready to defend those who might come up the rope after him.

Aranwen appeared next. The Bladesinger seemed less winded by the climb and didn’t need to roll onto the stone cobbled path of the battlement. Instead, she simply seemed to swing over the wall’s edge, her blade already in her hand as her feet met solid ground, again.

The rope went limp, then, and the tension of a body climbing it never returned. Instead, there was the sound of a grunt, a scrape, another huff of effort and, following that, the Kazari landed amidst the group. The look of amusement on his features was obvious even to those who had never encountered the cat-folk of Capasha before.

“You could have just jumped up here, yourself, huh?” The thief sniped, shaking her head slightly.

“I could have,” Ch’dau admitted, a chuckle scarcely repressed.

Kithran sighed. “Then why?”

“I do not know,” the kazari snorted, shrugging his massive shoulders, “Perhaps I simply enjoy throwing you.”

“Ass,” Kithran hissed, crouching down and turning her gaze toward the lawns between the walls and Adedre’s manse.

"She's not my little girl, but at least we know she does have a parent…” Aranwen spoke in reply to Kithran’s mention of Saina, “I did see her in the crowd before arriving here, asleep in the arms of a woman, but couldn't be sure."

“Ah, well the woman sounded like what I imagine a busy mother might sound like, however I did not actually see her so I cannot confirm whether or not she was actually a busy cloak-making mannequin or not.” She shrugged, “Saina seemed alright though, so either way I’m sure she will be fine.”

Aranwen  gave a soft sigh, and wandered over to give the lovely cloak the appreciative examination it deserved. As she did so, Kithran once again found an opening to attempt to swipe something from the bladesinger. She had hardly a breath of a moment to act before the Syl’s golden eyes could have tracked her, and took the opportunity as soon as it presented itself. Her breath caught unlike it ever had before at her attempted grab, waiting for Aranwen to call Kith out and demand the item returned . . . but no such demand came.

Kithran only briefly ran her fingers over whatever it was before slipping it into one of the small, near unnoticeable pockets she had sewn into her clothing to quickly store and hide small trinkets such as this. She wasn’t even sure what it was--another oddity for her when taking an item--but there had been no time, not with Aranwen’s perceptive gaze.

“A nice find indeed,” the Sylvari woman said now

"Hmm? Oh yes, I thought so indeed . . . too. Such a serendipitous occasion, to run into Sai like like that,” and Kithran held back the deep sigh of relief she felt for finally, finally sneaking past Aranwen.

"For the how," Aranwen chuckled, bringing Kith back to the last act the bladesinger had caught her in, "You can thank Morgana for that; she ambushed me by a tripwire connected to a net placed up above in an alley, so I was being particularly watchful of the roof line."

“Well then, all the more reason to track her down and exact my revenge.” Kith replied with a smirk, punching one of her hands into the other.

The conversation eventually turned back to that of infiltrating the wall surrounding Adedre’s estate, and much too quickly a gleam hit the Kazari’s eyes that caused a grin to begin tugging at Kithran’s mouth before he even spoke.

“I have a thought,” he began, wrapping the rope around his large silver arm, “Kibibi . . . ”

“Yes?” She replied, immediately regretting responding to the ridiculous term, but letting it go as she was sure there was an even more ridiculous plan behind that gleam of his.

He looked down at her, “You wear less armor than the rest and, therefore, are likely the lightest…” her grin dropped and she took an instinctive step back as he approached her, but allowed him to set the rope down over her head and shoulder, his plan becoming all the more intriguing.

Ch’dau then proceeded to explain a plan in which Kithran would charge him, only to have him toss her wildly up into the battlement. “This is your plan, Kazari? To fire me like a catapult up onto the walls of this slitch’s fortified compound?” she asked, the humor and incredulity clear in her voice and on her face.

“Yes,” the Silver Cat nodded, almost too enthusiastically, and Kithran’s grin returned at his excitement, “Unless you prefer I try and scale the wall, myself…” He turned his gaze to the unprepared cleric, “…Or I could toss the priest.”

“No,” Mosic said, almost instantly, “No. I choose either option that doesn’t involve me getting tossed skyward by Samuel, please.”

The kazari definitely chuckled, then. “Well, Little Kitten,” he shrugged, his entire demeanor daring her to cower away from his challenge, “The choice is yours. What will it be?”

Kithran tugged at the rope on her shoulders, squinted at the wall rising up high before them, turned and watched in her mind as she sprinted across the lawn to launch herself at the wall. She almost laughed with the excitement that consumed her at the idea. “Let’s do it,” she grinned. “How far up can you get me?”

Ch’dau snorted, and before she could protest or even step away, wrapped his paws around her waist and lifted her straight up with what seemed like no effort at all. She would have been impressed, had she not been so caught off-guard, “How far would you like to go?” he chuckled softly, setting her back to the ground.

“First,” she said, straightening her armor, “please do not do things like that without at the very least, warning me first. I do not enjoy being grasped so unexpectedly, or at all, really. If there is a plan to throw me like a javelin into a pile of bone spiders, by all means have at me--just not unannounced like that. But to answer your question,” and she paused for just a moment, letting the seriousness melt away from her face and allowing her grin to return in full, blinding force, “just get me to the top, cat-beast,” and she began backing toward the gate where the street spilled into the garden.

“Done, kibibi,” the kazari chuffed, and she watched as he backed away too, assuming his position at the foot of the wall.

Of all the things, she thought to herself, shaking her head and holding back yet another bout of laughter both for how silly this was and how unabashedly excited she was to do it. The cat-beast himself looked like a feline reflection of herself, for how giddy he was awaiting her. The bladesinger appeared perhaps a little less confident in their plan, but her own golden-eyed smile only fueled Kithan’s unbridled eagerness.

Kithran hopped a couple times, and then dropped down into a running stance, nodded, and in an instant shot herself full force at the Kazari. Her long half-Sylvari legs sent her across the garden in a blink, and in the next she leapt up at Ch’dau. His timing true, the silver cat caught her foot and launched her up the wall.

As vital as she knew it was to remain silent and unseen, and though brief, the sound of joy Kith had been holding back finally escaped her at the feeling of careening up through the air, weightless, as though she were flying. A completely different sound slipped out of her as she reached the apex of her ascent, a bit higher than anticipated, and the feeling of falling flipped her stomach over. Kithran had felt this feeling many times in her life, and though it often came with the clarity of her bad decisions, she had also learned to correct them quickly, calmly, and with as much grace as a plummeting half-Syl could muster.

“Oof,” she grunted quietly as her grasp on the edge of the battlement halted her descent, but punched her in her spinning gut as she swung down into the wall. She looked down to glare at the Kazari with the wide cat-like grin on his face for a moment before returning her attention to any sign of the patrols. When she was sure she was clear, Kith climbed the rest of the way to the top, tied off the rope and sent it down to the bottom, swiftly dropping back down into a crouch and drawing her shortbow and arrow, keeping an eye out for any early patrols headed their way.

Glancing from side to side, she listened to what could have only been the Falloes priest as he forced himself up the rope. She met his eyes as he climbed over the side, motioning with a finger to her lips for him to get a handle on his huffing, and pointed for him to watch the right side while her eyes, nearly fully black now in the dark, continued keeping watch on their left.

As expected, the bladesinger scaled the wall gracefully, and with far less trouble than their priest. Aranwen needed no direction as she drew her blade and joined the other two in their defense of the rope.

Unexpectedly, however, after more grunting and the unfortunate sound of scraping, a large cat-beast dropped amidst their party, that infuriating grin still on his face.

“You could have just jumped up here, yourself, huh?” Kith asked, her eyes narrowing and shaking her head.

“I could have,” Ch’dau admitted, a chuckle scarcely repressed.

Kithran sighed. “Then why?”

“I do not know,” the kazari snorted, shrugging his massive shoulders, “Perhaps I simply enjoy throwing you.”

“Ass,” Kithran hissed, crouching down and turning her gaze toward the lawns between the walls and Adedre’s manse, “I will say though,” she said, her voice lighter, “going up was a lot better than falling do--oh wow.”

While Aranwen had estimated perhaps a dozen of the monstrous creatures had been scattered throughout the lawns the night before, guessing some had been brought inside to search for the thief and the escaped prisoner, the question of how many skeletal creatures actually roamed within the guarded walls had remained a mystery. Such was no longer the case, as Kithran and the others, to their dismay, gazed upon at least twice that many, if not more, between them and the back entrance to dark manor.

Kithran’s jaw slumped open as Mosic caught his gasp in his hand. Regaining herself, Kith whispered sardonically, “Ah, well, I can take a couple on at a time, what of you lot? Ten for Sammy, ten for the Syl, and ten for you and me, Mosic?”

“Actually,” Mosic said quietly, drawing his hand from his lips and grasping the holy symbol of Falloes, “I do not know what sort of commotion this may raise, but as I mentioned, the Helping Hand has granted me the power to destroy all undead--at least of this caliber--within a certain range of myself.” His eyes flit across the yard, trying to calculate the distance between the battlement and the abode, “If we are able to draw the majority of these to me, I can clear out a large portion of them. I will only have the ability to do this twice tonight, but,” and he shook his head, his gaze unwaveringly on the small sea of bones below them, “this seems as good a time as any.”

Finally, the priest tore his eyes from the smiling horde ahead of him and back to the grim one beside him, “I cannot guess what sort of clamor they will make as they’re drawn to me or the attention that may come with the falling of dozens of their ranks. I will also need to be signaled when the majority are within about twenty-five to thirty feet of me . . . and will naturally require protection as the approach, but I can do this, if we need a path cleared.”

Kithran’s heart would not slow as the memory of that bone demon, that thing made of an amalgamation of those that sauntered below, darkened her mind. The undead, the unnatural . . . there was little Kith could think of more horrifying.

“I like this plan,” she said in response, trying to find the quickest way through this awful mansion, “Look how many are out here. If, as you said Aranwen, most were inside looking for us last night, they must all be out here now. I know the path through this manse, Ch’dau knows it a bit as well now. We just need to get inside and we can make haste to the study up on the third floor.” She glanced briefly again at the creatures below, with weapons made of bone and metal, and suppressed a shiver, “Even if they are alerted to our presence by a few dozen destroyed, that’s still a large portion of their army handled. I am open to other plans, but we should hurry either way, the patrol will be back shortly.”

Aranwen watched as Kithran sailed through the air. Not that she had reason to doubt the Kazari's strength, having seen how well built he appeared, but it was one thing to know, and another to see it happen. 

"Don't miss..." she breathed in relief seeing Kithran grab hold of the top of the wall. 

With a nod she headed for the base of the wall herself, putting her back to the wall as she scanned their surroundings once more. 

"Several hours and you haven't made a move... What are you up to?" she muttered, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

Looking to Mosic, she gestured for him to ascend first, "Use the knots similar to steps, but for your hands as well as your feet," she offered, "I tried to space the knots with your armspan in mind."

"Why don't you go first to show me?" Mosic asked. 

Aranwen shook her head, "If she were to make a move, I'd expect it now. I will be ready if she comes."

With a reluctant nod, Mosic began climbing. Aranwen placed a foot on the loose end of the rope to give another anchor for Mosic as he ascended. 

Still nothing. She frowned. If anything were to happen surely it'd be now. She looked to Ch'dau, but he motioned for her to proceed first. With a nod, Aranwen scaled the knotted rope, leaping over the threshold and landing on foot. 

She couldn't help but give a soft giggle watching as Kithran protested with the ease by which Ch'dau arrived at the top of the wall. But her face turned to a frown as she looked at the undead patrols below her. 

"we should hurry either way, the patrol will be back shortly"

Aranwen looked towards Mosic, "With magic such as these undead, do they persist if the one that raised them is no more?" 

Mosic offered a shrug of his shoulders, "Hard to say. In some cases I've heard so, in others I haven't. It's not the kind of thing that is well understood."

Aranwen nodded, "I see..." she looked to Kithran, "I have a thought; do you think you might be able to shoot someone in the leg? If the wall patrol were to fall off of the wall in the inner courtyard, that may provide us a distraction that will see fewer skeletons between us and the manor proper," she suggested, "We don't know how many be between us and Adedre on the inside, so it may be better to avoid what we can for the moment." 

Ch’dau couldn’t help but snicker quietly as he watched the thief catch the top of the wall and haul herself over. When she was out of sight, he rolled his shoulders and took a step back from the wall. “I think she might have enjoyed that,” he chuffed, his eyes flicking to Aranwen and then Mosic.

The Bladesinger smirked, her golden eyes sparkling with some small bit of amusement even as she offered a faint shake of her head. Whether that gesture was in response to the audacity of the tactic or the fact that it had actually worked, Ch’dau wasn’t quite sure.

Mosic, on the other hand, simply continued gawking up at the place where Kithran had been. “Sweet Father Falloes,” he breathed, “it actually worked.”

“Regretting not taking her place, priest,” Ch’dau snorted as the Cid’s gaze, following a disbelieving blink, turned to him.

“Not at all,” Mosic returned, “Better her than me.” He shrugged his tiny shoulders then and glanced back up. “If you hadn’t tossed me completely over the wall, to begin with, I doubt I would have managed to catch hold of it as young Kithran did.”

The faint whispering sound of the rope unfurling above drew Ch’dau’s attention away from the Cidal, then, and, as the knots bounced against the wall in a series of quick, muffled pops, the kazari reached out to secure the bottom of the rope. As he did, Aranwen’s gaze peeled away from their surveillance of the streets and fell on Mosic.

“Use the knots similar to steps, but for your hands as well as your feet” she suggested, motioning for the little cleric to take to the rope, “I tried to space the knots with your armspan in mind.”

Mosic looked a bit apprehensive. “Why don’t you go first to show me,” he asked.

Aranwen shook her head, "If she were to make a move, I'd expect it now. I will be ready if she comes."

Ch’dau handed the rope over to Mosic, then, and, with a reluctant nod, the little priest started climbing. As he did, Aranwen placed a foot on the loose end in order to further stabilize it as he ascended. Her eyes, though, remained on the streets, perpetually scanning for any sign of Morgana’s minions, leaving Ch’dau to keep watch over the Cid’s climb.

As Mosic made the top and wriggled over the wall, the kazari offered a faint grunt and nod. “The priest is over,” he murmured, turning to Aranwen.

She looked at him as if expecting that he might go up the rope next but the cat-man shook his head in response to that silent suggestion. “They will need you with them should things go wrong, khatun,” he rumbled softly, motioning her to the rope, “I shall keep guard, here, should any more puppets show themselves.”

With a nod, Aranwen quickly scaled the knotted rope, leaping over the threshold and landing on foot. 

Ch’dau nodded in admiriation at how quickly and gracefully the bladesinger had made the climb. Then, making one last scan of the streets behind him, the kazari took a few steps away from the wall and tossed back the cowl of his cloak. With a faint smirk on his lips, Ch’dau bounded forward and jumped; the claws in his fingers and toes extending as that leap brought him just a bit more than halfway up the wall. He flinched slightly at the scraping sound his claws made as they gained purchase on the rough stone, but he didn’t let it interfere with his momentum. Instead, with a grunt of effort, he launched himself higher, clearing the battlements and landing in a crouch near his companions.

Kith fixed him with an almost irritated glare as he grinned at her. “You could have just jumped up here, yourself, huh?”

“I could have,” Ch’dau admitted, a chuckle scarcely surpressed.

“Ass,”  Kithran hissed, crouching down and turning her gaze toward the lawns between the walls and Adedre’s manse, “I will say though,” she said, her voice lighter, “going up was a lot better than falling do… oh wow.”

While Aranwen had estimated perhaps a dozen of the monstrous creatures had been scattered throughout the lawns the night before, guessing some had been brought inside to search for the thief and the escaped prisoner, the question of how many skeletal creatures actually roamed within the guarded walls had remained a mystery. Such was no longer the case, as Kithran and the others, to their dismay, gazed upon at least twice that many, if not more, between them and the back entrance to dark manor.

Kithran’s jaw dropped open at the sight and Mosic caught a gasp in his hand by way of reaction. For his part, Ch’dau simply grunted in resignation and cast a sidelong glance at Aranwen. The bladesinger’s frown seemed to mirror his own thoughts…

Kithran was the first to offer a suggestion as to how they might proceed in the face of so many of Adedre’s skeletons. Mosic interjected some thoughts of his own, too, offering up what sounded like some useful magical options to supplement the thief’s proposed plan.

 “I cannot guess what sort of clamor they will make as they’re drawn to me or the attention that may come with the falling of dozens of their ranks,” the priest offered, tearing his gaze from the undead horde below to regard the trio with which he had found himself, “I will also need to be signaled when the majority are within about twenty-five to thirty feet of me . . . and will naturally require protection as they approach, but I can do this, if we need a path cleared.”

“You will have it, little one,” Ch’dau assured him.

“I like this plan,” Kith said in response, trying to find the quickest way through this awful mansion, “Look how many are out here. If, as you said Aranwen, most were inside looking for us last night, they must all be out here now. I know the path through this manse, Ch’dau knows it a bit as well now. We just need to get inside and we can make haste to the study up on the third floor.” She glanced briefly again at the creatures below, with weapons made of bone and metal, and suppressed a shiver, “Even if they are alerted to our presence by a few dozen destroyed, that’s still a large portion of their army handled. I am open to other plans, but we should hurry either way, the patrol will be back shortly.”

Aranwen looked towards Mosic, "With magic such as these undead, do they persist if the one that raised them is no more?" 

Mosic offered a shrug of his shoulders, "Hard to say. In some cases I've heard so, in others I haven't. It's not the kind of thing that is well understood."

Aranwen nodded, "I see..." she looked to Kithran, "I have a thought; do you think you might be able to shoot someone in the leg? If the wall patrol were to fall off of the wall in the inner courtyard, that may provide us a distraction that will see fewer skeletons between us and the manor proper," she suggested, "We don't know how many be between us and Adedre on the inside, so it may be better to avoid what we can for the moment." 

“Agreed,” Ch’dau nodded, “We will have a better chance at this should we manage to get inside without alerting all of that…” He gestured vaguely to the bone horde below just his gaze lifted from the lawn and set to scanning the walls to their left and right.

“There is a patrol approaching from that direction,” he nodded to where the wall stretched away to their left, “and the one that passed moments ago continues his rounds in that,” his head tipped in the opposite direction. “Kithran, you take care of those bound for us,” he suggested, “and I will see to the others. Let us see if we can provide our boney friends with twice the distraction, yes?”

((OOC: Okay, gotta go run and help my daughter with something really quick but will be back soon. Figured I'd go ahead and post this much, for now... Feel free to post up if you like, otherwise, I'll see about finsihing up when I return and, at least, get us down the other side of the wall.))