[OOC]
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Yb Amaaryn sat, waiting, in the reception chamber on the first level of the tower of Seraphim, his temporary home for the six months since Zim Narul's disappearance. He had been waiting some time now, but his many years of academic pursuits had left the aging human with a great deal of patience. Still though, he found it hard not to grow uneasy in this place that did not belong to him, the place that belonged to Zim Narul.

Zim had left the scholarly Yb in control of his lands - and, by extension, the guild of In Nomina Caelum Amplus - due mainly to the scribe's administrative prowess, the reasoning being that the learned Yb would only be responsible for the relatively tame day-to-day tasks that realm management entailed in times of peace. It was supposed to be a journey of no more than two weeks.

It was no secret that, in the months since the Seraphim's disappearance, the realm had suffered. Although Yb Amaaryn was a talented and earnest individual, he was simply ill-suited for the role of leader, especially when compared to the near-legendary dark Sidhe he was filling in for. It was for that reason that Yb had decided that enough was enough.

Messages had been sent to many lords and other notables throughout the INCAn mountains, each bearing Amaaryn's personal seal and request of audience, in addition to the following attachment:


To all who walk the Mountain Realms:

I have done my best to lead as would Zim Narul, but it is plain that I am not his equal. It has been six months since the disappearance of our Seraphim, and I have decided that is long enough. I am mounting an expedition to follow the tracks of Zim's travels, before they become too cold and he is lost forever - I ask for those who have the courage to step forward and aide me in this endeavor, for I shall truly need it.

Attend me at the tower of Seraphim, and I will explain all the circumstances surrounding his disappearance and what might face us down this road.

Together, we will bring him back.

- Yb Amaaryn
Acting Seraphim of In Nomina Caelum Amplus

It had only been hours since the argument he had engaged in with his uncle, and already, he was packed. On his desk, his ancient bow shimmered in the flicker of a waning candle. His quiver sat very nearby. His pack sat in the accompanying chair, and though it seemed almost empty, it contained all the elf would need to survive for weeks, if the need arose. Leaning against the chair was the elf's sword--a majestic blade given to him by his uncle, Daos, when he had completed his sword training. He treasured it above all. Daos had very much been a father to him when he was young. His own father had taken an arrow for Daos in defense of the town they had grown up in, and Daos had sworn to watch over Eliorion.

Even after all the years of training in the arts of the bow and the short sword, Daos had never once let Eliorion see the ravages of war. He kept him very protected, and even when Daos had all but disappeared from these lands, his only companion had been Eliorion. It was Eliorion that had received the letter from Yb and taken it to his uncle. Daos knew he could not leave his small, new realm. His old lands had been ravaged in the Angel's recent war, and he sought to re-establish his people's place among the mountains. He had called for all his great generals to meet with him, intending to send one of them and as many troops as he could spare to aid Yb in his search of Zim. This is when he and his nephew had gotten in the argument...

Eliorion stood at the window, looking at the moon. His hands were grasped behind his back, as they always were when he was in deep thought. He knew his uncle had very reluctantly agreed to let him go in search of Zim. He nor his uncle knew what awaited the party in its quest. Accordingly, Daos had wished him all the best and hugged him like a father would a son. As Eliorion had left the new Beoulve Tower, he could have sworn his uncle had a small tear forming in his eye...

On the horizon, the sun had already begun to hold its sway over the darkness of night. The drow Eliorion had asked to come to his house that morning came and Eliorion handed him the letter to deliver to Yb from Daos. Eliorion had only a few things to gather from the city before he could go to Yb himself, ready to search for the great Zim Narul.

He readied his things, and sat out for the city, not knowing if this would be the last time he would ever see the great mountain realms of the Angels. He forced that thought from his mind, and made his way to the great city.

He had always been happy in his friend's mountain lands. Though the dwarf hated the idea of flying, mountains and their caves were like home for him. When he heard of his old friend Solik returning again to the lands of In Nomina Caelum Amplus, he cheerfully rejoined the ranks of its warriors, becoming a trusted general of Solik's forces once again. Though he enjoyed the glories of war and the caverns beneath Ariam, he secretly wished for the old days, when he, Solik, Jurri, and the others used to adventure in small bands, seeking treasure and glory. When Brin heard of Yb's call for questors, he jumped at the chance. Solik was far too busy with the duties of his realm to venture out himself, but he worried for Zim's safety and wanted to see his old friend again. Brin offered to go in his stead, and Solik gratefully accepted, trusting Brin to be able to take care of himself and, if necessary, Zim too.

Packing what little equipment he needed -- his enchanted mithril great axe, capable of destroying even spirits with a single swing, some food and water, various tools, and a few potions of healing, the dwarf marched on to the Tower of Seraphim within the capitol, Armingar, confident that he and his axe would be able to overcome anything that was going to stand in his way.

The tall man kept his cowl wrapped tight as he wove his way through the busy streets of Armengar, each hand resting on the hilt of one of his slender swords. His dark grey cloak flowed out behind him as the man strode purposely towards the so-called "Tower of Seraphim". He kept his arms free beneath his loose garments as he slipped through the door and moved towards the audience chamber.

He moved inside, silent as a shadow, and stood listening to the conversation for several moments before he was noticed. The talk died away instantly, as he had expected it would when the speakers noticed the man dressed all in grey who watched them. A few reached for sword belts, eyeing his swords uneasily. One, an elder man who was clearly no warrior, stepped forward. No doubt this was the Yb Amaaryn who had summoned him, the man thought.

"Who..." Yb began, but the man in grey cut him off, his voice clear and unmuffled by the cloth that covered his face.

"My name is The Hunter. I believe you requested some help in getting your Seraphim back."

Yb Amaaryn just stared.

The Hunter?! Who was this guy fooling? The name was, quite possibly, the most clichéd thing Yb had ever heard.

And yet, still, a cool air of deadly confidence seemed to emanate from the man, and he was wearing an awful lot of weapons...

"Very well, Mr... " Yb had to forced himself to complete the sentance, "... Hunter. You may take a seat in the back there. I am expecting a few more individuals before I start - it shouldn't be long now."

The Hunter slid towards the seat indicated with an economy of movement that often belied a very dangerous individual, Yb noted with concern. But here, surrounded by more than a dozen of elite INCAn warriors, there was surely nothing to fear.

Regardless, Yb knew he needed every blade he could find, and so he swallowed his unease and set about shuffling his papers as he waited for a few more adventurers he hoped would show up.

Manners had never been one of his strong points. For that matter, neither had etiquette, or social behavior in general outside of taverns. The dwarf never particularly noticed any disapproving looks he received for his actions. Or, rather, he may have noticed them at times, but he paid them no heed. He saw no point in changing one's behavior to suit other people. He believed that people should be taken as they are, or not at all.

Barging into the audience chambers, slamming the great double-doors against the walls and clanking noisily across the floor, his battle armor adding weight to his stocky figure, Brin Stonekeep, mithril great axe in hand and a big grin on his face, looked around at those gathered.

So, this whar th' party's startin? Ah'm ready to get this here expedition under-way... who's the leader here? And who all's comin'?

Not bothering to introduce himself, assuming those gathered were already familiar with him, Brin looked about the room, taking in those gathered. A strange bunch... but also discouragingly small...

Makoto got the message that attention was needed to find their lost leader. Though new to the group he was a dedicated soul to his new allegiance unless proven otherwise. He thought of his ironic being amongst the so called 'Angels' of this order. He himself has and always was a half demon. Human in appearance through and through until he brought forth his transformation. Demonic wings would spread from his back and as emotions or his will dictated, his eyes would glow a firery red. Still with the wings and eyes, he retained the human body shape and appearance.

The only ties he could make being amongst Angels was the bond with a certain member he had long been friends with in the past and the love he had for his partner, Indukanta, who was infact an angel herself. He white feathery wings and the glowing aura about her being proof to that.

Makoto's feeling of being an outsider as to race, had to show himself to his peers he was loyal and attentative to any cause they had. Besides he did feel it was his duty to this for any guild member. He would want someone to come find him if he was lost. He made his preparations to leave his mountain citadel, giving precise instructions to his generals and head servant in what is expected and to do. He walked out upon his balcony that served as a landing platform as well. He drew out his wings stretching them out as it had been a while since he journeyed out in flight.

He walked slowly towards the edge of the balcony then began to gather speed till he ran the last few steps off the edge, letting his body jet down the surface of his citidel to the jagged rocks at the bottom. He opened his wings to adjust course, swooping past the rocks to stream down the mountains slope. The gush of wind forcefully blowing back his hair and attire. The ground drew closer and closer, the slope curving to the bottom, it was the thrill of his that got his blood pumping, bringing him back to the existence of what he is and what he could do. Before the moment of contacting with earth he pulled up to jet across the plains in a gallant speed causing the tall grass and brushes to flutter in his wake.

After the expected time of his arrival, he saw the towers to the place of whom he was to meet about this expedition. He made his approach slow and cautious not wishing to cause any alarm to guarding sentries. He saw the direct entrance of the keep but opted to take the appropriate entrance with the gate guards. He ascended before their ranks, the currents cause by his wings made the dirt below scatter about. He made a complete landing and retracted his wings that melded into his back as if they never existed. He looks to the guards each in turn before producing the written message that was sent to him.

I'm here to attend to business as said in this message sent by your master.

Yb had to fight to hide the look of surprise that had crossed his face when the dwarf burst in. He quickly regained control and presented himself.

"I'm in command here. Yb Amaaryn, at your service. You are... Solik's friend. Brin. Welcome, you make take a seat there." Yb prided himself in his ability to recall the face of everyone he had ever met, but he had to search around a moment before recalling Brin's name - he had never actually met the dwarf himself, only heard tell of him. It wasn't that hard, however, to match the discription he had been given with the dwarf's blustery appearance.

A moment later, the lord Makoto arrived. Yb was more than a little surprised at that he had chosen to come himself - there was no telling how long they would be gone, and most leaders could ill afford to tear themselves away from their duties for such a task.

Yb said as much to Makoto as he welcomed him, and invited him to sit if he still chose to come, or to send another in his stead.

"... regardless, you should stay for what I am about to say. It is time this meeting got underway - any others who would come may be filled in later."

Yb made his way to the center of the circular chamber to begin his presentation.

"As many of you know, the Seraphim Zim Narul disappeared over six months ago, on a quest to find a city called Nazarath. His voyage began a few months before that, when he discovered an ancient journal in the Library of Armengar that told of one scholar's own quest to find Nazarath. Zim became obsessed with the story and resolved to discover the truth for himself. That's why he left.

"It is my belief that, if we find Nazarath, we will find Zim Narul.

"Unfortunately, he took the journal with him, so that resource is lost to us. No one living has seen the lost city, so we have no person to guide us. We have, however, another source that might lead us."

With that, Yb Amaaryn gingerly laid his hand on the heavy tome that filled the pedestal before him. The book was obviously ancient, to the point of falling apart.

"Every first born male child in my line has been named Yb, it is a tradition that has spanned the entirety of the Amaaryn line. Many of my forefathers were councillors to kings and rulers. One such Yb Amaaryn served as a scribe in a guild called Inverness, and made his home in a city called Nazarath.

"This is all that is left of that Yb Amaaryn's work, but in it are several key descriptions of landmarks near the citadel of Nazarath. Using those descriptions, and the maps that are available to us here along with some deductive reasoning, I believe I have worked out the location of the lost city.

"My proposition is simple. We will find Nazarath, and bring back Zim Narul or discover what has become of him."

Yb paused for a moment and looked as though he wanted to say more, but then seemed to come to a decision and continued.

"Many unwise people have rushed off on fools quests and promptly got themselves killed. That is not my intention here. We will be escorted by three hundred foot commanded by these men here," Yb's hand waved in the direction of the cluster of military officers who represented the bulk of those present. " and will take every necessary precaution to ensure the success of our mission."

Again, the scribe took a moment to consider his words before continuing.

"And that, gentlemen, is it in a nutshell. The party moves out two days hence at dawn, I hope to see you there."

Eliorion stood before the gates of the Tower of the Seraphim, taking in its beauty. His pack was only slightly more bulged now than before, but he had picked up the few things his uncle had put in the order for him the night before. Two daggers now protruded from his quiver, and his quiver was now full of arrows. His short sword still hung by his side, and his bow hung over his shoulder.

He was indeed an odd site in this part of the city. Rarely did an elf find enough comfort in a city to stand in its heart and take in its beauty. And even more rare did an elf apparentally ready for a full fledged war stand in the heart of that same city. He approached the doors, and spoke with the guards for a brief moment. Apparentally, his messenger had arrived and they were already aware he was to be coming. He shifted his bow slightly, more out of nervousness than an actual need to reset its position on his shoulder. This would be his first time actually inside this glorious Tower, and he now began to feel out of place.

He entered the audience chambers, taking in everything around him. Already, a small group of individuals were gathered around--some sitting, some standing. The only one in the bunch he recognized was Yb, as Daos had introduced the two long ago. All others were alien to him, but he strolled up to the bunch with the utmost confidence present in all elves.

Yb Amaaryn, I do not know if you remember me, but I sent a messenger ahead of myself last night. I am the nephew of Daos Beoulve, Eliorion. I have come to play the Beoulve part in the search for Zim.

In his nervousness, he forgot to even stand to wait for a reply. Although, he hoped it would be assumed he simply didn't want to waste any of Yb's time. He went and leaned against a nearby wall, fiddling with the string of his bow. Everyone stopped and looked at him as if he had just missed something very important. This just added to his nervousness, and he went and sat down, hoping this would maybe attract less attention. He heard a few snickers from nearby, but he sat, looking straight at Yb, hoping he would say something to take the attention away from him.

The dwarf blinked in surprise. Soldiers would be coming? Three hundred of them? And no one was leaving for another two days?

Brin sighed and slumped in his chair. Adventures just weren't like they used to be. Why, in his day, preparation consisted of seven seconds to grab your things and get going (which he had already done), and the largest number of people in a single group was nine. That... that's just the way it was done!

But times change, and this quest wasn't exactly like the others the dwarf had been on, anyways. This time, he was out to find a well-respected leader of an empire. Brin supposed that caused for more caution -- and small armies. Besides, he might be getting a little too old for all that gung-ho legion-stomping axe-swinging. Bah! No dwarf is ever too old for axin'!

On and on went the thoughts through the warrior's head, as he waited briefly for any further news or instruction. He wondered idly how he was going to pass the time over the next two days.

"And that, gentlemen, is it in a nutshell."

The Hunter knew instantly that, quite contrary to what the little man said, that was most definitely not the whole story.

Many times in his life, the difference between life and death had been the difference between truth and deceit, and The Hunter had grown proficient at knowing which was which. This Yb Amaaryn was clearly not used to telling anything but the whole truth, and, to The Hunter's eyes at least, his discomfort was plainly written across his face.

Though he did not think Yb had lied in anything he had said - that was probably beyond the honest scribe entirely - he was certain that the complete story had not been told.

He knows something more, and intentionally keeps it from us.

A quick scan of the room revealed that none of the others - excepting perhaps the Angel Makoto - seemed to be thinking the same thing. The dwarf was clearly too brash to worry about such subtle games, and the military men - well, they were military men. They would walk off the edge of the Eastern Fortifications if Yb told them too. Most of them now seemed to have forgotten the speech entirely, and were instead focusing on snickering at the elf who had just made such a grand entrance.

The Hunter watched as Yb went over and whispered in the elf's ear, and decided to do his part. He made his way behind the group of officers, until he stood behind one who was leaning back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs with the front ones in the air. A quick kick at the chair legs and the officer was on the floor with a crash. The Hunter slipped on past as the men forgot about the elf and instead brought their mirth down upon their "clumsy" companion.

He left the tower then, and headed back towards his inn. If this was going to go as badly as he expected it to, The Hunter knew he had better spend some hours sharpening his swords.

Makoto sits in the offered seat and casually rests himself there. His long trench coat draps on the back rest of the chair. He rests his elbows on the arm rests, his finger tips pressed to one another before him. He sits in silence as the story unfolds. His eyes shift around the room to those sitting generals when mentioned. Quite a large expedition force. The value and time spent on such winded journey would tear him away from what be his duty here. He wished to help yet couldn't afford such travisty. However he wasn't limited to his contributions, he just as much interested in this venture. Such adventures intrigued him, more often spurred him to take them on himself.

Makoto leaned forward in his chair to bring his face in view for the others and looked to Yb.

Sir, if I may...I'm taking a great interest in this quest yet my involvement personally cannot be contributed. However, I dont wish to withdraw completely. If you may allow me, I am willing offer the service of my own men to the troop mass and a commanding comando. They wouldn't be ordinary footmen but those elementals that can provide support through the air. It be a matter of dealing with their presence.

Makoto waited for a response. If he so took it great, if not then very well, he can leave with no offense. It may just have him send a tangent force to follow in the shadows of the expedition force. No law or harm in that. Can be justified as a support group.

Yb breathed deep, exhalting in the sharpness of the brisk morning air.

The sun had just crested the the walls of the city, and the plaza before the Great Western Gate was bathed in a golden glow at what seemed to be the start of a beautiful day.

Yb Amaaryn couldn't have chosen a better time begin his quest.

The escort stood behind him, ordered neatly row upon row, and all the other members of the party had assembled. Brin Stonekeep stood sleepily conversing with Eliorion - it looked like the dwarf was somewhat unused to the early hours the scribe usually kept. Makoto was not present, having decided his realm could not spare his absence - a wise choise, as Yb saw it. He had told the Angel as much at the meeting two days earlier, confiding that, above all else, INCA must remain strong. He had told Makoto that any additional help would be welcome. Although the promised aide had not yet arrived, it would not be difficult to find the 300-plus party until they eventually left the main roads, and Yb supposed the additional support might arrive in mid trip.

The Hunter stood apart from them all, leaning relaxed against the part of the wall still draped in shadow. With his dark grey robes from head to foot, the man was nearly invisible there, as was by design, Yb supposed. He wondered how well The Hunter could hide when the man was really trying.

Regardless, the time for such wanderings of mind was at an end. The time of departure was at hand! A sharp whistle echoed across the plaza and got him the attention he wanted.

"Let's bring back our Seraphim!" Yb shouted.

And with that, the column began its march.

The past two days had been long and hard to swallow. It was one thing to admire the beauty of the city of the Angels, but it was another to actually stay there for two days. Always, there was noise and a huge rush of people going here or there. It seemed the elf hadn't been able to escape into his own thoughts for even a moment, and he wouldn't have, had he not gone early yesterday morning outside the gates of the city. He had walked through some of the surrounding woodlands at the foot of the mountains, if for no other reason than to clear his head. He had rushed into the city full of zeal and fervor at going on the search for Zim. Not only had he arrived late to the meeting, but Yb had also decided it best to not leave for two days. He had become hesistant, wandering if indeed he had made a mistake forcing his uncle to allow him to come. Had he had to wait but one more day, he may have talked himself out of going, but now, finally, the morning had come...

He had found himself standing beside a very groggy dwarf. It was very apparent the dwarf was not used to being awake this early in the morning, and it was also very apparent he had been to a tavern last night. Eliorion couldn't really tell which or if both were the case though, as the dwarvish tongue had always seemed harsh and slurred to him. The dwarf was interesting though, and they had some common ground between them--Solik and Daos.

And then, the call to move had come. Eliorion had honestly jumped. The whistle hurt his ears, and the shout to move out afterwards did them no joy either. Finally, it was time for the search to start.

They weren't even out of the city yet when he caught himself nervously speaking to Brin about nothing in particular. Or rather, he was talking to himself, because he had outpaced the dwarf. He yanked an arrow out of his quiver, and nervously stroked its feather. And onward he marched, unconsciously hoping Yb wasn't getting them into something that would get them all killed...

It had been a few hours since they had passed beneath the Great Western Gate, the banners of the escort division streaming proudly into the wind, and everyone seemed to be in a most jovial mood. Well, perhaps not the elf, The Hunter reflected. He seemed a little nervous.

He might not know it, but there was probably good reason to be, The Hunter thought sardonically.

Then again, they were probably just as well to have gotten out of the city. As he sat quietly in the corner of the inn's common room last night, The Hunter had overheard mutterings of dark things in the Armengarian night.

Just then, The Hunter noticed the military men who had been walking beside Yb break away, so that the scribe marched alone. This was the perfect opportunity to get some answers. The Hunter quickened his pace and slipped up beside the little man.

"Wouldn't it have been wiser to mount our company?"

Yb gave a little start - he obviously had not noticed the other's appearance - but composed himself quickly and replied.

"We would have had to leave them soon enough. Horses will be useless where we're going."

"And where exactly are we going?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

The Hunter sniffed in annoyance. Evasive answers, just as he had expected. Perhaps a different line of questioning would prove more fruitful.

"What's in the box?"

"Personal items."

He's lying. The Hunter knew it instantly. "The box" he was referring to was a heavy chest that the men had loaded onto one of the wagons just before their departure. There was so many locks on the thing that The Hunter suspected it would take a whole bag of keys just to get the thing open. No one needed such a secure container for "personal items".

He had just decided to quit wasting his time when Yb posed a question of his own.

"You never really explained yourself before. I understand the others, for the most part, but why are you coming on this expedition?"

Oh this is rich. So Yb refused to answer his questions, but expected an answer to his own? Well two could play at that game.

"Personal reasons."

And with that, he slowed his pace and moved away.

He supposed he should be used to this. Every time he adventures, everybody else wants to be out with the rise of the sun. Brin always preferred heading to bed with the rise of the sun. Excited about a new adventure, he was unable to get much in the way of sleep, and spent a bit of time in a nearby tavern throughout most of the night. He was regretting it now, of course, but was thankful at least that everyone was on foot. That meant either a short trip or mountains, and either option sounded great to the dwarf. He hated riding horses, and long trips weren't exactly a lot of fun.

Brin was still trying to figure out how everyone else was so cheerful and bouncy. He was feeling rather groggy, and his head ached. Normally, this would have put him in a bad mood, but he was happy enough to be on the way. Eliorion, Daos's nephew, whom he had only briefly met a time or two before, seemed completely immune to the early hours, and was chatting away as if nothing were wrong. Not really interested in offending his friend's nephew, he tried his best to make conversation, but it obviously wasn't working, as the elf soon outpaced him.

Shrugging, Brin decided to concentrate on the task of waking himself up. If danger was ahead, he didn't want to have to depend on the soldiers to handle anything. He didn't sign up on this adventure to sleep through it and let everybody else have all the fun! Whipping out a small flask, he took a sip, the liquor sending some sharp messages to his brain. That oughtta do th' trick!

[OOC]
This is the last opportunity for other charcters to join in this RP. As of my next post (to follow tomorrow), the thread is closed to new characters.[/OOC]

Yb drew up short, and motioned for his commanders to halt the men's march. They had been marching for almost an entire day, and the sun was well into its descent towards the horizon.

"We will rest here shortly," he explained to Eltharion, Brin, The Hunter, and the commanders as they gathered around him, "For here we leave the road behind. Once we move up into the wild mountains," Yb motioned at the mass of looming peaks behind him, "We will be essentially cut off from all contact with Armengar and the Mountain Realms. The wild is treacherous in these parts, so we cannot travel by night. We'll rest here for an hour - take the opportunity to eat and drink - and then I'd like to get as far in as we can before dusk."

Everyone was eager for a meal, so the little group quickly dispersed, and Yb was left alone to stare up at the dark mountains knifing high into the sky.

Zim, what were you thinking...

Makoto assembled 100 of his own troops lead by Sergeant Null, a wicked fiend for sure. He origins are unknown but definitely a spawn from some demon breed perhaps a Hezrou. In any case he was well suited to lead the company. Null was a nickname given to him by Makoto since the man himself knew not of his own name. Null meaning nothing was fitting. People of his kind rarely knew anything of their past.

20 Quasits were gathered especially for those sneaky recons. 50 Vrocks were gathered to make up the bulk of the elite troops, with 30 Nalfeshnee as heavy support. All units were capably of flying adding that advantage to the existing party set up by Yb.

The objective mission was clear to Null, he very well understood his purpose. He left was soon as possible with the band of hideous foul creatures of the dark world. To Makoto they were like family since he was part of their breed. Appearance wise they seem fearsome and outcasted but to know them personally would give another impression. Null wasn't inapt in the social department. He could communicate well and can establish a fitting to Yb's group. That is what also made him a perfect candidate.

The flight wasn't bad. They discovered the party had already left Yb's estate as expected and proceeded to fly above the road they took. Flying took half the time to get anywhere. They dotted the sky...looking like black dots everywhere. Null spotted the party resting ahead. Before getting into their range of sight, he order the men to touch down on the road and march the rest of the way.

The caused a dust storm in their wake, since they were inclined to use their wings still to propell them as they marched. This made me quite noticable. Null was cautious to what the group would precieve them to be. Makoto however provided him with his flag and one of INCA's to bare. A quasit took up the job fly the colors.

Just outside the resting party they stopped. Deadly silence was about them. Null was the only one to be so bold to march through the heart of them. He had a low growl about him, snarling at a few uneasy men. The colors yet were quite apparant, and no aggressions were made. He guess what huddled group had the leading heads of the party. Style of clothing and visible ranks made it easy. The age of the men was clear too. He saw a lot of older gentlemen of ranking status in one area.

Sergeant Null in company of Master Makoto's army at your service. I've been instructed to help with the quest.

The elf had not gone far from where Yb had remained standing. He had everything he needed with him, so he found a nearby tree, and sat with his back against it. He munched on a few things, and soon his appetite was very much appeased. He had never needed much food, and the foods of his uncle's cook were always filling and seemed to be able to last forever.

He assumed he was the first of the group to notice the smoke trail coming up the road. He had reached for his bow out of reflex and an arrow already rested in his hand when out of the smoke he saw the banners of INCA. He had sat his bow across his lap, but for some reason couldn't put it up just yet. Could this be a hoax? Were they just flying the banners of INCA, just so they could get close enough to do some foul deeds? Surely there weren't many in the lands other than the INCAns that knew such a group had disembarked from the might INCAn city. Their borders were well protected, spies should have been at a bare minimum.

He still sat off in the distance when they approached Yb. The leader among them walked up, but Eliorion was very sure he would have hit the demon between squarely in the chest before he could have even raised a hand against Yb. He still kept his bow in his lap though, not wanting to appear aggressive towards the group just in case. He perked his ears, and heard the name of Makoto.

The elf smiled and shouldered his bow and put the arrow back in his quiver. He had heard stories of the demons among the ranks of the Angels. They were powerful warriors, and Eliorion considered it an honor that they had allied themselves with the Angel. He felt a bit more at ease with such allies in the relatively small party. Now, at least, he supposed they could take on quite a substantial foe and still be victorious.

Now, if only a few others would join, he would be able to overcome his nervousness all together. Or maybe not. He found himself with an arrow back in his hand, playing with its feather...

Settling down happily for a quick meal, Brin was quite happy for the break. Marching isn't difficult for dwarves, but he'd only joined the ranks of the fully awake a few moments ago, and his stomach was rumbling for some food to join the ale. He'd been careful not to drink too much -- intoxicated dwarves aren't particularly useful outside of tavern brawls -- so he had limited himself to only two flasks. Crunching on some jerky, his eyes wandered around, taking in the company he was with. He noticed Yb gazing at the cliffs ahead, probably calculating logistics or something. The elf was nearby, toying with an arrow. The dwarf offered a wave, but the elf was intent on other things. Shrugging and looking around elsewhere, Brin then saw the dust.

Approaching from behind was what appeared to be a relatively large group. Squinting his eyes to get a better look, Brin noticed the cause of the dust storm -- wings. And the wings were not of the friendly flapping feather kind.

By th' bone-battered battle hammer of my grey-bearded uncle! Thar's demons comin'! Get yer weapons, men! We're under att...

Then, he noticed the INCAn banners being flown by the troop.

Oh.

[OOC]
This thread is now closed to additional characters, unless you contact me on ICQ to work out how you would find us.
[/OOC]

The wide grin that broke over Yb's face spoke the scribe's thoughts before his words had a chance.

"I'm relieved that you have joined us, Sergeant.

"We were just about to break camp. From here we move up into the wild - an uncharted mass of mountains and hidden valleys, for the most part. It would be near impossible to find even such a sizable company up there. It is where our true search will begin.

"Had you been much later, you might have missed us entirely."

While they spoke, the commanders readied the troops. Cooking fires were stamped out, packs prepared, and armour strapped back into place.

"There are shadowcats and giants and things much worse up there. Let's keep on our toes."

And with that, the company moved from the road and began the long hike into the wild.

They had been in the wild for three days now, and the expedition had, thus far, been incident free. There had been a few sightings of shadowcats on distant hills, and a little band of goblinfolk had scattered before their march the previous day, but all things considered, the trip had been remarkably calm. Yb attributed much of that to Sergeant Null and his quasits, who had done a remarkable job of scouting the route ahead and screening their movements.

They had reached the first clue in the hunt for Zim Narul.

The peak of Mt. Killarney towered directly above them. Working from his ancestor's texts and modern maps, Yb had decided this was what the other Yb had called Mt. Lilithe, and was a key landmark for finding Nazarath. The elder Amaaryn had written that four lined peaks would point the way, and Mt. Lilithe was the first of the four.

Obviously then, it was time to climb.

"Hunter," Yb called, "I must climb Mt. Killarney to see where next we go. I would like you to accompany me."

Although he was relatively sure that this was a tranquil region, Yb was not comfortable with making the ascent alone, and the footing was far too treacherous for a large group. Although he was not entirely sure of the man's motives, Yb was strangely comforted by his dangerous aura.

And so the two set out. The climb was even more difficult than Yb imagined, and several hours had blazed by before they reached their destination. Standing on a small Plateau, Yb looked Northward, where three mountain summits laid in a perfect line. Beyond the last peak stood a towering mass of black granite.

"We'll find the Lost Citadel somewhere in that clutch of mountains." Yb was sure of it.

"I hate to interrupt your musings," The other man spoke up, "But what do you suppose those are?"

Far below, the tiny figures of the expedition were clearly visible. At first, Yb did not understand what The Hunter was referring to.

And then he saw. Lines of black figures were encircling the group, just shielded from view by the curves of the surrounding hills. The lines were closing quickly, and as Yb scrambled back towards the path down, he could just make out the faint cries of alarm and clash of arms.

With the exception of the goblin routing, this trip had been pretty boring so far. Of course, they had yet to reach their destination... Brin assumed that with all the manpower Yb had brought along, they'd find something particularly interesting once they got there. The dwarf had entertained himself by getting to know several of his fellow travellers. One soldier in particular, a gruff man named Garyn, shared the warrior's interest in ale, and they spent a bit of time exchanging drinking songs, roaring with laughter at the peculiar lyrics of the other race. This caused them to be the recipients quite a few stares from some of the others, but neither of them noticed.

Paused at the foot of the mountain, Brin was still trying to figure out why Yb had chosen the Hunter to accompany him.

Of all th' people to pick, why'd he pick th' Hunter? By th' facial hairs of mah cousin's father, I swear he's no' trustworthy! We'll be lucky f'sure if he comes down outta thar in one piece.

Garyn grunted his agreement, though he was largely uninterested. He just wanted to get this done with and get paid. What his commanding officers did was the business of the commanding officers. Brin, however, preferred to stick his nose in other people's business, especially in those who were leading him around in unfamiliar territory.

It was at about that time that the pair heard the first cries of alarm. The sharp eyes of Eliorion had apparently spotted something, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs, gesturing in the general direction of everywhere that friendly troops weren't currently located. Standing, Brin squinted and looked where the elf was pointing. Then, he saw them too... large numbers of them, coming fast. Readying his great axe, he began barking orders to the men nearby, trying to get some sort of formation organized. He looked again to see if he could figure out what those things were. Brin swore as he recognized them.

Damn! What in th' name of Foret are wights doing here? And so damn many of them!

Aidan el'Estai hadn't been on the road very long. He moved quickly and gracefully, as all elves do, yet he feared that he may already be too late. Orioth had requested his presence almost a week ago, but the rogue had other business to attend to. When he finally went to see Orioth, he receieved orders to join a search party for Zim Narul. He had been given the party leader's name, Yb Amaaryn, and description, and the general direction of their travel. However, this search party had left four days ago. His skills as a tracker, however, were largely unmatched, and although the wilds were formidable, a sizable company would not be too hard for him to follow.

A few hours had passed when Aidan came across what appeared to be a brief resting place of a fairly sizable group. Most of the footprints were faded, and what tracks that remained led straight off the road and into the wilds.

Well, Aidan though to himself, glancing at the sun, I've a few more hours until nightfall, I may as well make the most of it. The thought of pressing on through the night briefly crossed his mind, but he dismissed it almost immediately. The dangers out there were far too deadly to take any risks. Aidan left the road in the direction of the tracks, and continued to follow the signs until he came across a campsite, only three days old. I suppose this is a good a place as any, thought the elf. Unpacking his bedroll, he made a small fire, ate some of his rations, and settled down for the night.

The journey ahead was going to be long and arduous, but Aidan's respect for Orioth had made him accept the mission, even knowing the extreme danger. His rough childhood had driven him into the streets, and he made his way as a thief. Orioth had discovered him only a few years ago, in jail for robbing a local merchant, and had bailed him out. Aidan knew he owed Orioth more than he could repay, and was thus willing to risk his life to serve Orioth in any way possible. He drifted to sleep as the sun slowly disappeared below the horizon. He would find Yb soon enough.

The first of the creatures had already engaged the company by the time Garyn was on his feet, iron claymore in hand. He had never before seen a wight, but he recalled a few stories about them. They were similar to ghouls and ghasts... corpses of beings that had once been alive, raised again by dark magics. Wights were more powerful than your average ghoul, however; wights feast not only on flesh, but on life energy in general. They actually become more powerful as they claw and bite and tear into their victims. Watching them in action, Garyn decided that he'd rather that he'd still not seen a wight before.

Garyn! Get yer ass to th' front! We got no room t' fall back here... we gotta push! C'mon men!

Garyn wasn't one to argue with the dwarf, but his direction was pointless. There was nowhere TO go but at them... the company appeared to be surrounded. Battle cries and screams of pain and the sounds of weapons striking flesh filled the air. Garyn shouted his own battle cry, charing at the nearest group of undead. A single, powerful swing very nearly sliced one of the wights in half. He turned to attack the next one, but before he was able to lift his sword for a second swing, the first wight had latched ahold of his arm. The creature had basically fallen into him, its lower half twisting, dangling from its torso by a mere few inches of flesh. It scratched at the mail on his forearm. Garyn screamed as it sank its teeth into him... apparently, the damn thing had fangs, and wasn't afraid of breaking them on metal. The soldier bashed the thing in the face with the hilt of his claymore repeatedly until he knocked the creature onto the ground. He stabbed it through its skull, and turned just in time to witness one of his comrades-in-arms fall to an assault from three of the things. He felt stomach bile rising as he saw them ripping and biting into the poor man's chest. With a yell, he swung his claymore at the nearest one, lopping off its head with a single swipe.

This was NOT going to be fun...