"You've no Master Inquisitor, not anymore. No one to hide behind. There is at least one Master Tier in this city, and she is against us. Do you want to call her attention to us before, or after we have established ourselves and can fight back?" Eliza shook her hand and pulled a few inches of her sword from its sheath. "Do you still have objections?"
Heuthorn, Rutger, and Daur all eyed her sword with no little bit of trepidation. The hooked blade was a powerful antique, sharp as a razor and covered in an arcane script. The sigils, strange as they were, were definitely enchanted. The only ability she'd discovered, however, was a disruption type effect. For a brief two second interval, the powered sword would disrupt Mana Skills. The Inquisitors knew its power.
There used to be four of them, after all.
"Very well, Inquisitor DuFont," Heuthorn nodded curtly. "We shall follow your lead...for now."
The man left without another word, and the other two followed so close they almost trampled his cloak.
"Gods damned zealots," she muttered and resheathed her blade. Klark returned just moments later. "Send in the next ones, Initiate."
"As you wish, Lady Inqusitor."
"GRAAAAH!"
Mervin Cors flinched at the sound, but Piotr's callused hand gripped his shoulder. "Steady, lad. It's locked up."
Mervin nodded, but it was hard to turn off his ears.
Sentinel's Regard is level 24!
Ugh, I'd rather you didn't level at this particular moment. Mervin shuddered as he tried to block out the sounds coming out of the room they guarded. He was only partially successful, so he focused on his friends.
Piotr was still leading their Wall crew, all of them Tin Ranks, despite the fact that he was pretty old. Nearly thirty, if Mervin had to guess. Lars slumped against the far wall, his bow loose in his hand. The man was drunk, but then Mervin had never seen him without something in his system, so he'd be more surprised to find him sober. On the other side of the door they guarded, Garin completed their group, and he was half asleep despite the shouting.
They'd all been up too long, having only caught a cat nap in the hours before dawn. The Wall was abuzz with activity, Guilders practically flooding the chambers and battlements. Eyrie fallen, they'd been left with no where else to go; the Wall became a sort of rallying point for what was left of the Guild.
And the help was none too late in coming. More and more waves of beasts had emerged from the Foglands. And now the city--
More screams came from behind the door they'd posted up against. Mervin saw Lars flinch and take another swig from his flask. Where the man had found booze was a mystery, the Guilders were rationing it out, after all. Despite it all, he wouldn't have said no to a sip. His damn nerves were shot.
The screams quietened again, and Mervin let out a pent up breath.
Monsters had emerged from the Eyrie. From below it. People were saying the Domain, but though Mervin hadn't had a chance to enter Haarwatch's Domain, he hadn't even been told it had...things like that.
They'd been chosen to guard the--what was it?--operation room, Teine had called it. "Why" was beyond him, but they'd been set up for hours at this point.
But the longer it went on, the less Mervin was terrified of it all. The operation room wasn't warded against sound; Teine had not cared, apparently. And with his Perception and Uncommon ranked Sentinel's Regard Skill, he was able to bridge the distance.
He could hear Elder Teine speaking, his Skill even gathered enough sound and sensation that he could almost see it all. Like seeing with his ears.
Something big and heavy twitched and jerked atop a table of some sort. Claws rapped against its surface, and a few creaking screeches cut through the general malaise of sound. He guessed sigils were in play somewhere in there, as he could hear the low hum of the magic, flaring with every twitchy movement.
Others were in there, but he had seen most of them enter originally. Bronze Guilders for the most part. They were arrayed around the table, watching. Learning.
The Elder was teaching.
"You see their enhanced musculature, how it twists?" Mervin could hear a clacking of shoes and something metallic and sharper. A cane, he realized.
"Ah," said a chorus of voices.
"It is likely how they are so strong, despite their levels. Easily Tier I creatures," Teine said, his can clacking again. He was walking in circles?
"What of the reports of their growing strength?" Someone asked.
"Yes, that's part of it. Their Bodies feed on the strength of their conquests." Cloth rustled. "Look at its face. It's all mouth, meant to devour. The Mana channels in its flesh are thorned and twisted in a way that is almost...anathema to us. Were a Human or Elf designed as such, they would not live long before dying a gruesome death."
"Why?"
"The channels feed into itself. There is no outlet. Just a constant feeding back into itself," Teine let out a huff of breath. He sounded...admiring? "Efficient, but impossible for adaption within non-monsters."
"So they grow stronger with each kill. Recirculating the Mana they eat?" A new voice said, high and sharp. Mervin thought she sounded familiar.
"Indeed. Much the same as we do, but more...holistically, it seems," Teine agreed.
"Then...will they will continue to grow? Will they ever stop?" A new voice, this one thicker and deeper. He sounds afraid.
"Mmm, yes they will grow. And no, I don't believe they will stop." The Elder did not seem terribly concerned by that fact. "They are imbued with...a terrible hunger. You can feel it emanating from their aura."
Clack. Clack. Clack.
"I feel...rage," the sharp voiced woman said.
"...And hate," said the thick male voice.
"Yes, yes. Intertwined with the hunger. Why do they feel such fury? The loss of their master?" Teine mused. His cane tapped the ground, insistently.
"The dragon?"
"Mmm. Perhaps. Or perhaps the creature that destroyed the dragon," Teine said. "Do they seek vengeance?"
"The Fiend..."
"Mmm."
There was the weak sound of thrashing and further screaming. "Sir it is dying. Slowly, but it's Health is declining."
"We've found its limits. Very well. We're done here, but not with the study. I need more. Find another, preferably one of a higher level."
"Yes sir, Elder Teine."
The screams cut off.
Steps within the room grew louder for a moment before Mervin realized they were leaving. He straightened to attention as the Bronze Ranks filed out, followed at last by Teine himself, holding a set of bloody vials. His friends followed suit, with varying degrees of ease.
Mervin tried not to stare at the Elder. He'd been hobbled, his once preternaturally handsome face now marred by a tight web of scars along his left side. Something else twisted his right leg, and despite healing Skills, the Master Tier mage still needed that cane to walk.
Teine tapped a finger to his lips, thoughtfully as he gazed at the lot of them. Without saying a word, he walked by and started up the stairs, perhaps headed to the top of the Wall. Mervin let out a soft breath of relief.