The Demons of Watchwood Forest 2

[Vomica]

He gets up and follows the crowd then... really what else has he to do? He's prepared. Psyched. And quite capable. ...he keeps a watchful eye out though.

[Knight Errant]

James takes the flint and tinder and uses it to light the candles one at a time! THough he stops halfway to look around, hunting for whatever could be watching him!

James sees... nothing! Or at least, nothing visible to the naked eye. Meanwhile, the candles burn with a intense herbal fragrance... and seems to be slowly filling the room with mist. The mist curls and swirls... forming odd shapes.

Ginny didn't reply, pressing the strands of red hair against her white dress for a moment. As the trees started to disappear from view, she hesitantly climbed down from the woman's lap. Immediately she started to feel nervous, and something inside her was compelling her to stay close to her new Mother, but she moved to the window and peered out, watching the city come closer. It looked so much bigger now than it had during her last visit. "Are you sure they won't know what you really are?".

The woman shrugs with a smirk. "The prople of the city are close minded. Oh a few of them might have the talent to suspect something, surely... but most of those are out playing in the woods. Or beating on wild animals in the arena." Meanwhile, soon the carriage is pulling into the city! The walls of houses and shops on either side blocking out the sky as the sounds of city life begin filtering through the painted wooden walls.

Trey trembled on his feet, barely holding himself up as the vision fell away. At first he blamed foul magic for the hallucination, but soon he realized this was no threat...in fact, it seemed as if it were from a distant dream. He'd read about the Battle of the Black Boughs. But if that was the battle he'd just seen, then that meant that this spirit was...no it couldn't be. His eyes had teared up watching men be ravaged by the monstrous threats and through bitter tears he placed his hands together and began praying, "Almighty upon high, please guide my confused mind to that which is right and just!" he shouted, shutting everything around him out and falling to his knees just before the small burial mound. He was sure that his god...the true and high spirit would glean the truth from the lies.

Gregor, unnerved by Trey's behavior, hoping that he might find reason in his prayer, looked to their ethereal visitor. "Courage." he spoke aloud, whether or not he addressed the spirit or was merely reflecting on the noun was difficult to tell. He'd lacked it his whole life, dreaming of grandeur but scared to death of what was out there. Trey was his closest friend and he did everything possible to make his Knight proud...but he was just a squire after all. The sword felt cool in his hands as he pulled it from Courage's grasp, though not a chill temperature that caused him to recoil. Almost a comforting cold if there were such a thing. As Trey was stuck in his continued prayers, Gregor looked to the spirit, "What of the Queen? What of the ways that were? Do you know how this schism happened?" he asked, feeling comfortable enough to speak to the ancient, ominous spirit. Perhaps it was comfort. Perhaps, though, it was courage.

The spirit nods at the question from the young squire... looking over to Trey. "The Church happened... The ways of Watchwood are not understood or accepted by them. They would brand all ancestral guardian spirits such as myself as demons... distracting the people from the right and true god." He looks back to the burial mound. "After I became Courage, I found I could hear... off and on... words from the men I had commanded. I could hear their prayers... and when they visited here and honored my memory... I could feel that devotion flowing into me. Strengthening me." He smiles sadly. "I repayed them as best I could. I watched over them... strengthened their arms and calmed their fears in time of battle. I became the patron spirit of the Twenty-Third Frontline Infantry Division. And when the men grew old, died, or retired from battle... the new soldiers were told my story and to remember my name. And I watched over the next generation as well. "

He looks back to Trey, frowning. "That slowly changed in the recent decades. The Church became more forceful in its retaliations against our ways. Fear began to drive the people away from the old ways. Eventually... they stopped coming. They stopped talking to me... and I have dwindled such that I can no longer see them... nor protect them." He looks to Gregor, his eyes full of sadness. "We are the Forgotten. Spirits of virtue and honor and protection... silenced and left to slowly fade away. We still honor the ancient laws of the first King of Watchwood... to protect and strengthen men... but this we can only do when called upon."

He looks away. "And then... there are the Dark Ones. Spirits of greed, wrath, sloth, lust... men and women who in life lived only to appease their own selfish desires. And in death, those desires consume them until there is nothing left. They draw their power inwardly... by consuming... destroying... corrupting. By these acts they fuel their power. They were always dangerous... kept in check by the Spirits of Virtue along with the Soul Killer Knights. Powerful men of flesh trained to combat the darkness. But with the Church driving the people away from the good spirits... and the Soul Killers being outright banished from Castle Overwatch. Evil is left to roam free."

Looking back. "It is said the first Queen of Watchwood lives still. Ancient in years and great in power... she bow calls upon the Dark Ones and the Forgotten to lash out against the land that has abandoned us. To drive the Church out and bring the people back to the old ways by making them fear us more than the Church. I see this as not the answer. I refuse to harm those I have spent hundreds of years guarding... if this means the end of me... so be it. But I will not let fear of death turn me into a Dark One. Fear holds no power over Courage."

He gets up and follows the crowd then... really what else has he to do? He's prepared. Psyched. And quite capable. ...he keeps a watchful eye out though.

Soon all the combatants are standing on the sands of the Arena! Crowds gaze curiously and cheer from every side. Up in the Royal Box, King Arleigh IX nods and looks down at them. Standing up. "New Champions of Watchwood. I wont waste your time overlong with speeches. We have for you to face, a variety of vicious beasts caught in the woods outside these walls. They will likely be different than you have before seen... so be wary. Be prepared. For a warm up... we have a selection of condemned criminals. Begging to meet your acquaintance. Kill or disable them. I leave this choice to you. But know they have been told that should they slay you... freedom is theirs."

He returns to his seat, as a pair of large barred gates open. A group of unsavory looking characters filing out, all armed and lightly armored. The lead one, a man in black leather armor, gestures at the arena combatants and laughs. "This lot will be easy, boys! Lets get to chopping!" He charges forwards... wielding twin battleaxes. Many men behind him running forward as well!

Others in the condemned group hang back... expressions of uneasiness on their faces. One man stands out a bit. Near the back of the group, and covered completely in a faded greenish blue cloak. He looks at the other members in his group with hardly concealed distaste.

[Blaze]

James starts backing away from the candles he just lit, using his cloak to coverhis mouth so he doesn't breath it in!

"What's going on?..."

[Brnin8r]

Trey had a hard time believing it...but if the spirit was right and Gregor's trust was placed correctly...there was, at the very least, more evil than the spirit in front of him. And really, if there was a chance he could dispatch of evil with more power, what was there to risk? This spirit, while evil as The Church spoke, seemed honorable. It was proof enough that he could at least allow Gregor to take up the sword. If this spirit was indeed who he thought he was, how could he possibly be evil. His courage is taught to all aspiring soldiers and knights. He continued to pray, awaiting guidance...but when none came, he assumed it was his God's way of telling him to choose for himself...he would wait. Wisdom gained from patience. He stood up, nodding to Gregor and the spirit...and turned to put his armor back on. They'd have to travel deeper into the forest to accomplish their task.

Gregor looked concerned that the Queen had turned to darkness...but soon his mind was fantasizing about how he could help. Be a better person, be a knight, a might warrior with the power of courage...what if he could unite the two powers? It would take valiant effort and, with Courage's sword, he could do it. Delusions of grandeur filled his head as he looked to Courage and then to Trey, "Let's bring justice and righteousness back to the land!" he said, far more outspoken than he'd been...really ever... "Trey, with Courage, we'll be unstoppable. We can allow the spirits of the forest and the folk of the land to live in harmony and peace again." he was rambling so fast even he didn't know what he was proposing. Such is youth.

[Harri-chan]

For a moment, Ginny was stung by how stupid she'd been along with the rest. The best the kingdom had to offer was out there in the forests while the city they were hoping to defend was now left vulnerable. She blushed once again, watching the shops go by, the bustling streets filled with civilians that she had let down. Just a day earlier, she'd left this place, a proud knight in gleaning armour, riding a magnificent horse, and was relieved these people didn't know what the demon seductress had done to her.

"What are you going to do? When I told you my daughter was with the Princess... you said we were coming here anyway... why?", she asked, looking back at the red-haired woman. Her own mention of the Princess made her cringe a little, as the memory of stunning the young woman with a parting kiss flashed through her head.

[Vomica]

Working his way through the crowd of contenders, Ovvar looks over the pool of possible opponents. Hmmm. This isn't what he was expecting... ...he was prepared for wild animals. Bears. Tigers. Giant rabid gorillas. But not petty criminals. The man might have killed people before, and quickly, but he never enjoyed it. He never killed in cold blood. He has yet to have a reason to change his ways, but he isn't prepared to let them waltz over him either.

The skulk takes a low position, one that allows him maximum reaction time for any attacks. He has others on his 'side' that can draw attention... but if any of the criminals come his way... they'll get a taste of his steel. Likely to the throat or heart. He smirks to himself, confident that this'll be easier than he expected.

The man in the circle of criminals that stands out does draw Ovvar's attention for the moment, it's not like he is totally out of place... but note worthy enough to be noted.

[Blindsense]

"Because Daddy says it will bring recognition to our people and stuff! And I hear the king is giving out all kinds of treasure too!"

Gol stares a bit more at the little girl... then stares hard at the torch behind her. He goes back to his food. "I'd leave that girl alone if I was you, boy... you don't know what yer messin with."

The girl looks over. "Oooo! Did you guess what I am? Did ya? Did ya?"

Gol takes a bite of a chicken leg, gnawing it without answering.

Nergal frowns, shooting Gol a glance before turning to face the girl again. "...It seems my friend here is a bit more perceptive than a silly man like myself," the man chuckles. "Tell me, young one... What, exactly, are you?"

[Knight Errant]

James starts backing away from the candles he just lit, using his cloak to coverhis mouth so he doesn't breath it in!

"What's going on?..."

The air soon begins to fill with scented smoke... as if the fog from outside poured in. He hears stone grinding on stone... then feels the floor under him give way... as he falls down into darkness. The suddenness gives no room for reaction, and he falls... and falls... and falls. For at least a minute. Just as he is sure he will end this fall with every bone in his body broken, he feels a mighty updraft... blasting him from below.

The force of the wind is staggering, unlike any gale he had felt before. And just as he feels like he can take no more, there is a sudden shock of cold... as he plunges into water.

Trey had a hard time believing it...but if the spirit was right and Gregor's trust was placed correctly...there was, at the very least, more evil than the spirit in front of him. And really, if there was a chance he could dispatch of evil with more power, what was there to risk? This spirit, while evil as The Church spoke, seemed honorable. It was proof enough that he could at least allow Gregor to take up the sword. If this spirit was indeed who he thought he was, how could he possibly be evil. His courage is taught to all aspiring soldiers and knights. He continued to pray, awaiting guidance...but when none came, he assumed it was his God's way of telling him to choose for himself...he would wait. Wisdom gained from patience. He stood up, nodding to Gregor and the spirit...and turned to put his armor back on. They'd have to travel deeper into the forest to accomplish their task.

Gregor looked concerned that the Queen had turned to darkness...but soon his mind was fantasizing about how he could help. Be a better person, be a knight, a might warrior with the power of courage...what if he could unite the two powers? It would take valiant effort and, with Courage's sword, he could do it. Delusions of grandeur filled his head as he looked to Courage and then to Trey, "Let's bring justice and righteousness back to the land!" he said, far more outspoken than he'd been...really ever... "Trey, with Courage, we'll be unstoppable. We can allow the spirits of the forest and the folk of the land to live in harmony and peace again." he was rambling so fast even he didn't know what he was proposing. Such is youth.

Trey would find the Deity's silence to be... unnerving. Always from his prayers, he would feel something. As a Paladin, he had been trained to walk side by side with God... calling on Him for aid and protection. And while he could still feel the Divine's presence, it felt... muted. As if the thick of the trees above interfered with his connection to God. To him, these woods must seem truly cursed...

Meanwhile, Courage listens to Gregor's ramblings, smiling slightly. He then looks to Trey. "The path your on will only get darker from here. I know what it means to give a life for a cause that is just... and what you do now is more important than what I did centuries ago. Are you prepared to make the same sacrifice, if it comes to that? You cannot waver... your faith in yourself must be absolute. For you will be tested... both in body and spirit... before our work is done."

For a moment, Ginny was stung by how stupid she'd been along with the rest. The best the kingdom had to offer was out there in the forests while the city they were hoping to defend was now left vulnerable. She blushed once again, watching the shops go by, the bustling streets filled with civilians that she had let down. Just a day earlier, she'd left this place, a proud knight in gleaning armour, riding a magnificent horse, and was relieved these people didn't know what the demon seductress had done to her.

"What are you going to do? When I told you my daughter was with the Princess... you said we were coming here anyway... why?", she asked, looking back at the red-haired woman. Her own mention of the Princess made her cringe a little, as the memory of stunning the young woman with a parting kiss flashed through her head.

The demonic woman pats Ginny on the head, smiling. "So curious... well the best surprises are best revealed at their proper time. For now lets just say me and the Princess have... a date." She grins playfully as the horses clop through the streets, the Castle Overwatch gradually drawing closer.

Working his way through the crowd of contenders, Ovvar looks over the pool of possible opponents. Hmmm. This isn't what he was expecting... ...he was prepared for wild animals. Bears. Tigers. Giant rabid gorillas. But not petty criminals. The man might have killed people before, and quickly, but he never enjoyed it. He never killed in cold blood. He has yet to have a reason to change his ways, but he isn't prepared to let them waltz over him either.

The skulk takes a low position, one that allows him maximum reaction time for any attacks. He has others on his 'side' that can draw attention... but if any of the criminals come his way... they'll get a taste of his steel. Likely to the throat or heart. He smirks to himself, confident that this'll be easier than he expected.

The man in the circle of criminals that stands out does draw Ovvar's attention for the moment, it's not like he is totally out of place... but note worthy enough to be noted.

Soon the battle begins! Blades clash, spells are hurled... soon its a roiling melee. Things seem a bit outmatched on the side of the 'champions' as the assembled group works through the bandits with relative ease. With the amount of eager men aiming for a chance of glory ahead of him, it looks like Ovvar wont even need to lift his blade!

Then... screaming... From the back of the horde of criminals, those nearest the robed man begin screaming and convulsing. They collapse as black mist begins seeping out into the air from their... corpses. The circle of dead bodies around him grows larger and larger. The civilians in the stands scramble back in anxiousness from the man, but none of them fall. Soon its not just the criminals... but everyone in the arena floor within a large arc of the robed man begin falling... convulsing... dieing... the remainder of them beginning to press up against the other side of the arena.

Just as space begins to get... crowded... it stops. The robed man holds a hand over a corpse nearby, and the arm of the body seemingly disintegrates... the flesh and muscle flying apart in a red mist. The bones leap up into the man's hand... forming a carved bone handle, as the black mist coalesces, a iron blade pulled from the iron in the blood of criminals and champions growing from the bone hilt. He points the blade, dripping with blood and faint red life energy, at the remainder of the combatants.

"I am Ismael Vilehand." The man proclaims. "To those still standing between me and freedom... yield and be spared. Or come at me and be cut down." The Arena soon becomes silent... the men weighing their chances against this horrible power.

Nergal frowns, shooting Gol a glance before turning to face the girl again. "...It seems my friend here is a bit more perceptive than a silly man like myself," the man chuckles. "Tell me, young one... What, exactly, are you?"

Annie giggles. "I'm a Fire Speaker! Watch!" She holds out her hand... as the flame from one of the candles leaps from the wick, over to her hand. It dances around in her palm as she watches with a smile, the flame twisting into intricate and beautiful shapes. The guard glares quite a bit at this... and a few of the people in the room take notice as well...

Meanwhile, another guard enters the room. "Champions... we are having a bit of a situation in the Arena. As it is, you can wait here for it to be resolved... or... well the King has authorized the Underworks for any who wish to test themselves."

Gol raises an eyebrow at that... and stands up. "You aint kiddin me, right? Little Arleigh has gone and reopened the Blood Trail?" The Guard nods hesitantly, as Gol laughs heartily. "I'll be damned! The spirits musta heard 'ol Gol's prayers. To think I'd live to walk the Old Trail... the lot at Hammer Hill will be green with envy when they hear this! Hahahahahaaa!"

[Blindsense]

Annie giggles. "I'm a Fire Speaker! Watch!" She holds out her hand... as the flame from one of the candles leaps from the wick, over to her hand. It dances around in her palm as she watches with a smile, the flame twisting into intricate and beautiful shapes. The guard glares quite a bit at this... and a few of the people in the room take notice as well...

Meanwhile, another guard enters the room. "Champions... we are having a bit of a situation in the Arena. As it is, you can wait here for it to be resolved... or... well the King has authorized the Underworks for any who wish to test themselves."

Gol raises an eyebrow at that... and stands up. "You aint kiddin me, right? Little Arleigh has gone and reopened the Blood Trail?" The Guard nods hesitantly, as Gol laughs heartily. "I'll be damned! The spirits musta heard 'ol Gol's prayers. To think I'd live to walk the Old Trail... the lot at Hammer Hill will be green with envy when they hear this! Hahahahahaaa!"

Nergal breaks his friendly charade, if only for a moment - a twisted, warped look of curiosity flashing across his face before he returns to his previous visage of calm. "...Blood Trail? Underworks? What's all this about, Lord Gol? Are we in danger...?"

Nergal's gaze alternated between the rather imposing figure of Gol and the unassuming, disarming Fire Speaker that stood near him. Both of these individuals could be useful later on, the incognito mage mused to himself. The man seemed the logical sort - one who could be swayed to Nergal's side with promises of power and prestige. And the girl... Yes, the girl - or at least, her power - had potential. Nergal idly wondered if there were more of these Fire Speakers. If such a young girl was capable of those impressive feats of manipulation, Nergal reasoned, then her peoples' elders must be even more impressive.

[Harri-chan]

Jealousy mixed with embarrassment on Ginny's young face as she couldn't help but picture the Seductress and the Princess locked in a kiss. The long, white dress swished around her little legs as she stepped back from the window. Her blue eyes gazed longingly as the cleavage of the red-haired woman, while her patience seemed to have shrunk to child-like levels. "How much longer will it take", she asked, not wanting to embarrass herself by climbing back onto the woman's lap if the journey would be over in a couple of minutes.

[Brnin8r]

Trey listened intently to the spirit, now knowing the historical identity of Courage. It was much easier to trust, in at least some part, the spirit knowing just what battle he'd fought for. "I realize that every day, spirit." he said as he finished donning his armor, Gregor assisting him with the more complex parts. "If it be the will of God that I die for justice and righteousness, it is a fate I accept wholeheartedly. May the tests be hard, that I might be that much better off for overcoming them." he stated his own personal mantra combined with some scriptural wisdom. He believed that to truly be just, you must be selfless to a fault. There is nothing pride can do for you unless it is being confident in your abilities, unwavering in their use. Never lay down your sword in pride if you know that it can help others now. With armor ready, the knight mounted his steed Ambrosious who had been stalwart and stoically silent despite events. "This place is truly haunted." the paladin added as he felt the subdued presence of God.

Gregor mounted his own pony, small as it was she was a fast mare. He held tightly the sword of Courage, close to his heart as if his beating might be strengthened by the cold steel. He had quieted his rambling for now, though his mind was moving a mile a minute. He wondered what tests the spirit spoke of, but nevertheless he knew he could face it as long as he had Trey and Courage at his side. Hell...he could do anything with them.

[Blaze]

James accidentally inhales some of the smoke and coughs... as the ground falls out from underneath him, sending him plummeting! After a few seconds of confused tumbling, he grabs the corners of his cloak and tries to use it like a parachute, his heart pounding in intense panic.

However, just as he manages to get it in the right position, he is blown upwards! The force of the gale knocks the air out of the thief's lungs and hurts the exposed skin on his face and hands. He curls up into a ball and tries to roll so his back was to the gale... when he hits the water! For the second time, the air is knocked from him as he struggles to the surface, inhaling deep gasps of air!

[Vomica]

Soon the battle begins! Blades clash, spells are hurled... soon its a roiling melee. Things seem a bit outmatched on the side of the 'champions' as the assembled group works through the bandits with relative ease. With the amount of eager men aiming for a chance of glory ahead of him, it looks like Ovvar wont even need to lift his blade!

Then... screaming... From the back of the horde of criminals, those nearest the robed man begin screaming and convulsing. They collapse as black mist begins seeping out into the air from their... corpses. The circle of dead bodies around him grows larger and larger. The civilians in the stands scramble back in anxiousness from the man, but none of them fall. Soon its not just the criminals... but everyone in the arena floor within a large arc of the robed man begin falling... convulsing... dieing... the remainder of them beginning to press up against the other side of the arena.

Just as space begins to get... crowded... it stops. The robed man holds a hand over a corpse nearby, and the arm of the body seemingly disintegrates... the flesh and muscle flying apart in a red mist. The bones leap up into the man's hand... forming a carved bone handle, as the black mist coalesces, a iron blade pulled from the iron in the blood of criminals and champions growing from the bone hilt. He points the blade, dripping with blood and faint red life energy, at the remainder of the combatants.

"I am Ismael Vilehand." The man proclaims. "To those still standing between me and freedom... yield and be spared. Or come at me and be cut down." The Arena soon becomes silent... the men weighing their chances against this horrible power.

Ovvar had kept to the back of the group, and his caution was justified when living people, on both sides, started to... drop dead like flies that have run into a cloud of toxic fumes. Not pressed against the wall, but close to it, the man lowers his guard. Did he really see such a display of raw primal power? The pure damage that focused magic could do? Clearly. But he knows he can't back down against this foe. I can let him go, and stand against him. One releases this great power into the public... the other wins be the support that I need.

His mind is made up for him, and his course of action is... typical for the man. Slight misdirection under the guise of openness. Calling Ismael's threat as empty, Ovvar takes a step forward. He replies in a strong voice of his own, "Vilehand. You seek your freedom? You want to walk out of here? Today might be your chance. Today might be your day. But. You were imprisoned. And not just for a reason I assume. But you were able to be held." Ovvar pauses at this, and starts to make his way towards the other man -- his hand has a slight twitch as he itches for his throwing knife -- who he watches with an over-zealous gaze. He finishes, "Therefore that leaves two possibility. The first is that you aren't as powerful as these others amongst us fear. Or. You are an honorable man. In other case... I challenge you. Alone."

Hmm. This might end badly.

[Knight Errant]

Nergal breaks his friendly charade, if only for a moment - a twisted, warped look of curiosity flashing across his face before he returns to his previous visage of calm. "...Blood Trail? Underworks? What's all this about, Lord Gol? Are we in danger...?"

Nergal's gaze alternated between the rather imposing figure of Gol and the unassuming, disarming Fire Speaker that stood near him. Both of these individuals could be useful later on, the incognito mage mused to himself. The man seemed the logical sort - one who could be swayed to Nergal's side with promises of power and prestige. And the girl... Yes, the girl - or at least, her power - had potential. Nergal idly wondered if there were more of these Fire Speakers. If such a young girl was capable of those impressive feats of manipulation, Nergal reasoned, then her peoples' elders must be even more impressive.

Gol is still chuckling heartily, but eventually turns and puts a hand on Nergal's shoulder. "Aye, lad... we are in for some danger. The Underworks are an old series of dungeons carved deep into tha stone 'a Overwatch. All sorts used to run a course through it... an old underground path leadin from here to 'th castle. Used to be quite the bragging rights... well from those what didn't get eaten or spiked on old traps in the dark." His eyes glitter with amusement. "Couple a decades ago... that blighter Arleigh closed it off. Some nonsense about it being too dangerous or something. Well that was the damned point, wasn't it?"

The guard speaks up. "You don't have to take it... the king just wanted me to inform you the option is available..."

There is a pause, then a faint click as Annie stands up from her seat onto shiny black polished shoes. She walks over to the guard. "Sounds like fun! And waiting around here is like, so boring!" She giggles. The guard looks hesitant... then sets his face grim. "Very well... for all who is planning to take the Underworks, follow me. The rest... feel free to wait here until things are settled."

He turns and heads down a passage, Annie skipping along behind him, followed soon by the long strides of Gol.

Jealousy mixed with embarrassment on Ginny's young face as she couldn't help but picture the Seductress and the Princess locked in a kiss. The long, white dress swished around her little legs as she stepped back from the window. Her blue eyes gazed longingly as the cleavage of the red-haired woman, while her patience seemed to have shrunk to child-like levels. "How much longer will it take", she asked, not wanting to embarrass herself by climbing back onto the woman's lap if the journey would be over in a couple of minutes.

The seductress smiles. "Oh only a few more minutes... unless you want to take the scenic route..." She chuckles, her voice like tinkling bells. From the streets, quite a few passers-by look interestedly at the coach... and even moreso at the gorgrous woman inside it. The seductress leans an arm against the window, smiling and blowing a few kisses to some very red faced men.

Trey listened intently to the spirit, now knowing the historical identity of Courage. It was much easier to trust, in at least some part, the spirit knowing just what battle he'd fought for. "I realize that every day, spirit." he said as he finished donning his armor, Gregor assisting him with the more complex parts. "If it be the will of God that I die for justice and righteousness, it is a fate I accept wholeheartedly. May the tests be hard, that I might be that much better off for overcoming them." he stated his own personal mantra combined with some scriptural wisdom. He believed that to truly be just, you must be selfless to a fault. There is nothing pride can do for you unless it is being confident in your abilities, unwavering in their use. Never lay down your sword in pride if you know that it can help others now. With armor ready, the knight mounted his steed Ambrosious who had been stalwart and stoically silent despite events. "This place is truly haunted." the paladin added as he felt the subdued presence of God.

Gregor mounted his own pony, small as it was she was a fast mare. He held tightly the sword of Courage, close to his heart as if his beating might be strengthened by the cold steel. He had quieted his rambling for now, though his mind was moving a mile a minute. He wondered what tests the spirit spoke of, but nevertheless he knew he could face it as long as he had Trey and Courage at his side. Hell...he could do anything with them.

The spirit nods. "Good... I will withdraw now... but I'll be watching. Should you need me, know I will be there..." He says, fading into a mist which swirls over to Gregor... curling around and sinking into the iron blade he holds close.

And it is a new day! The sun breaking through the tree branches, the road ahead calm. Where will they go next?

James accidentally inhales some of the smoke and coughs... as the ground falls out from underneath him, sending him plummeting! After a few seconds of confused tumbling, he grabs the corners of his cloak and tries to use it like a parachute, his heart pounding in intense panic.

However, just as he manages to get it in the right position, he is blown upwards! The force of the gale knocks the air out of the thief's lungs and hurts the exposed skin on his face and hands. He curls up into a ball and tries to roll so his back was to the gale... when he hits the water! For the second time, the air is knocked from him as he struggles to the surface, inhaling deep gasps of air!

After a few minutes of shock and scrambling, James would likely pull himself up onto a stone walkway bu the side of the slow moving subterranean river... He is completely soaked in the dark for a few moments... before braziers set in the stone wall ignite, revealing a large iron-bound wooden door. The wood so aged its almost black. The hinges strangely unrusted considering their age and nearness to water.

Ovvar had kept to the back of the group, and his caution was justified when living people, on both sides, started to... drop dead like flies that have run into a cloud of toxic fumes. Not pressed against the wall, but close to it, the man lowers his guard. Did he really see such a display of raw primal power? The pure damage that focused magic could do? Clearly. But he knows he can't back down against this foe. I can let him go, and stand against him. One releases this great power into the public... the other wins be the support that I need.

His mind is made up for him, and his course of action is... typical for the man. Slight misdirection under the guise of openness. Calling Ismael's threat as empty, Ovvar takes a step forward. He replies in a strong voice of his own, "Vilehand. You seek your freedom? You want to walk out of here? Today might be your chance. Today might be your day. But. You were imprisoned. And not just for a reason I assume. But you were able to be held." Ovvar pauses at this, and starts to make his way towards the other man -- his hand has a slight twitch as he itches for his throwing knife -- who he watches with an over-zealous gaze. He finishes, "Therefore that leaves two possibility. The first is that you aren't as powerful as these others amongst us fear. Or. You are an honorable man. In other case... I challenge you. Alone."

Hmm. This might end badly.

Ismael listens quietly, an expression of calculating interest on his thin face. "A duel..." he muses. "Rather beside the point, given I am bound to slay you all or be slain thanks to the lovely royalty of Overwatch. But... why not. At least it will bring an air of civility to this bloodbath."

He pauses as one of the more braver or suicidal men with James raises a bow, drawing it. Vilehand glares. "I would not do that if I were you..." But a moment later, the arrow flies! Ismael moves like a snake, shifting to the side out of the way and slashing the air... His blade glows evilly as a beam of magical energy lashes out, slicing the astonished bowman in half.

Ismael cracks his neck, entering into a fencing stance, his sword pointed at James. "Ready when you are, sir..."

[Blaze]

James struggles for a bit before his hand finds the walkway. He pushes himself up onto it and flops onto his back, gasping for air when the braziers come alight! Getting to his feet, he strips down, removing his coat, tunic and boots and lays the by one to dry and warms himself by it. Eventually, he walks over to the large wooden door and examines it, trying to open it!