Under the Ash|Libourg, Iver, Sicherlein, Nasuada

[The Carrying Blade]

Thankfully none of the group would actually have to stop, Nasuada would come into view of Ibrahim and his demon just a few seconds after he spoke. He would see her holding her left arm, and would feel only herself and the adjoining demon as well. There seemed to be a look of defiance in her eyes as she met the older man's gaze, and a bit of disappointment.

"Carry on, carry on, don't need to stop for us, Ibrahim was just paranoid we were still gone." She spoke, giving Ibrahim a semi friendly, yet annoyed smile. She would catch up quickly, seeing as though Ibrahim decided to stop where he stood, and would keep walking forward. Albeit slower so that the group would move on ahead a bit more and give the Occulsits some space to talk.

[relentless]

Libourg growled and turned around, right face, glowering at both Ibrahim and Nasuada from the dying lick of the torchlight.
"Tarry any longer and the shit will seep into our hearts before we know it."
Libourg stated in a partially annoyed and hushed manner, exhaling sharply as he turned fully around to face them, his grip shifting tighter as he took a hard look at the party, the gaze wild, almost murderous.

"The pigs will be preparing the common folk for dinner, and I don't give an form of a piss taking SHIT about gold, or some stupid fuckin' stone! We get them. And we- Get. Out."
Libourg stated in a harsh, concrete tone toward the rest of the members, before he turned back around and started at a slow walk.
"Let's go, don't want to miss the dinner party..."
Libourg growled as he set off without them, though it was obvious he would stop if his party were to stay put.

[Vanitypirate]

Hall:
The walls widened a tad, becoming more spacious, as though it were a river delta widening to greet a great ocean.
The tiles below became more jagged and rough, and might be cause to trip if one were not careful.
It made it difficult to spy tripwires or false tiles, provided someone was looking for it in the first place.

Distantly echoing ahead was screaming, squealing, both, troublingly, animal and human.

[rumsztyk]

Ibrahim said nothing, only scolding Nasuada wordlessly with a slight shake of his head. "We must be getting closer." He said louder, ushering everyone forward.

The obvious cue was noted. Ibrahim himself slowed down slightly to level with Nasuada, silently judging the woman for what she has done. He didn't look her in the eye, nor did he acknowledge her - he merely walked side by side with her in silence, waiting for her to speak up.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Sicherlein/
A bit knowingly, she moved forward and slowed while holding the torch out infront of Ibrahim and the rest of the party behind Libourg as the German watched the Knight grumble and huff. Once they were about ten feet away, she'd lean back and whisper, at least to Ibrahim,
"... We need to be careful with him. Big, angry, all metal... I think he might snap." She frowned, for a moment it sounded genuine, then her confident smirk came back, and she clapped Ibrahim's shoulder quietly with a nod, looking out to Nasuada and Iver too with a jerk of the head.
"Right then, tarry on."

With that, she turned and skipped ahead; the toe of her boot catching for a moment and causing some alarm as she hummed, and slowed again. Sicherlein kept a good six foot distance between herself and Libourg's metal back, as she walked slower and held the torch low; her eyes starting to scan the upset tiles with due scrutiny...
\\

[Unter]

Iver sighed. They were finally going. Nasuada being a pain in the ass didn't help them, and didn't help the prisonners.
"Let us go finally, I'll take the rear guard." He looked at Ibrahim and Nasuada.
"Go on you two. We need to get moving."

And then, he heard the beastly yell that awaited them at the end of the tunnel.
"Action is coming." he whispered.

[The Carrying Blade]

"We only gave a little, and that was to stop its whining before it became a problem." Nasuada said simply, wanting to get that out of the way as she saw little to no consequence to her action of wanting to try and give the Spirit a proper offering. Ibrahim didn't seem stupid, but to hear him agree with Iver seemed much of shock to her as Obitus had in the Weald. She thought out of all people he would clearly see the benefit of such actions.

"You really are too cautious Ibrahim, and to think your friend inside didn't even seem to care is sad on its own. We thought you two would be happy to assist us, but we guess even others of power have their faults. We do hope next time you side with us instead of them however, we'd rather not have to consider you against us." She spoke calmly, but irritation seeped through in the form of her smile faltering into a distasteful sneer.

She sighed, really thinking she would have more on her side in this pit. She didn't care for any of them, even the people they were trying to save....no that wasn't true, she did care about someone down here. Deep inside she did hope they would find them alive, but she would not let that pester her mind, for keeping herself alive at the moment seemed more prudent given the horrible floor on the path forward.

[Vanitypirate]

Torch:
It seemed to be in its sputtering death throes, faded to a more ember-like state than that of any brilliant blaze.
The flame burned low, and only provided enough light to just distantly outline the shapes of the members of the party. Libourg, at the head, would be barely visible.

Big Room:
It was almost impossible to see much besides the floor.
To the left of the party, the sound of shifting stones could be heard. After a few moments, there was a crack of stone upon stone, and the sound of it shattering into pieces.

As they got closer, they might discern the human-like scream: a child's.
Every so often, the beast in the dark would grunt, and something heavy would swing down and smack against something metal. It would light up in sparks, for a half-second it would illuminate a metal grate, and a pair of great, rotten arms that could be seen in the dark.

The creature seemed not to have noticed them yet, so transfixed was it by its prey.

[rumsztyk]

"I can imagine that, after what he has been through recently..." Ibrahim remarks rather bitterly, staring at Sicherlein unflinchingly for a few seconds as they continue down the dark tunnel. He dismisses Nasuada's reassurance: "You are young. You will learn. If not from my advice, then from your own mistakes."

He stops the conversation abruptly with a raised hand as they enter the new room, already readying a curse most vile and debilitating.

[The Carrying Blade]

Ibrahim seemed to forget that there wasn’t just the 27 year old woman in that body, the demon part of her was insulted being called young even if it was just toward the human half, it would’ve caused her to react in anger if it hadn’t been for the screaming of the child and the loud clanging of the beast. Her eyes darted to them, being able to see just a bit more clearly than the others, discerning beast, metal, and human. There was her target, now all they had to do was kill this beast and whatever else could be in this room and then they could leave with the child.

In pure darkness, and the occasional sparks of light only caused by metal, Nasuada could feel her magical strength at its peak. She spoke quietly and quickly, mustering the energy for her spell she set to conjuring two giant tentacles, each 3ft in height and 2ft in width, one on each side of the beast. They would act like whips, fiercely attacking the beast, hoping to pierce and slash its body if they could hit it. Nasuada hoped that her comrades would see it be distracted, possibly getting at least moderately hurt, and go in for a kill themselves.

[relentless]

Libourg had stopped dead in his tracks, since he was the first to come across the beast beating on something, followed by child like screams. A moment of seriousness seemed to wash over his own bitterness, to dilute it somewhat as he took into account the situation. He could only assume the child was hiding under a heater shield, or a sheet of iron. Unless it was just mindlessly beating the ground for no reason... far less inviting.

He had posed himself in a crouched position at the end of the room, glancing back to see his comrades approach. He would've hoped to organise some form of plan to attack this brute, but it seemed Nasuada had other plans. With a displeasured grumble, he watched as the tentacles began to sprout out from their crimson ethereal portals. It wouldn't take long for those tentacles to slap this creature on its diseased ass, and send it into a writhing rage. These pigmen, these beasts are fierce, and such small amount of damage that would be caused would simply send this brute throwing itself at them.

Unless...

Turning his head to Iver, approaching from the back, he eyed him curiously. Quickly, he took his height and weight into consideration. The perfect human sized skimming stone. And the brute, would be the lake. Only question is would Iver skim like a ballerina, or sink. Only one way to find out.

With a harsh tense of his injured arm, the sling harness would creak and the knot holding it together would fall off, hanging off his shoulder. With a grunt, he jogged forward a tad, eyes glaring at the creature as he pushed his flanged mace with a fumble into its leather string holster upon his belt, before cupping his hands together and squatting down slightly.

"Iver! It's gonna bloody charge us thanks to her!"
He spared a glance behind him, before he faced him with a stone cold stare, hastily unclamping his faceplate from his barbute, a face of cold sweat and worried but horrid expression dawning him.
"Best strike fast, like a bird... if you know what I mean!"
He chuckled awkwardly, before he looked hard at him with a gritting of teeth.
"Strike fast lads! Lets go! Not staying another, FUCKING, second in this shithole!"
Libourg barked with a commanding tone, authority spewing out along with spit to follow. Though it was very clear that he was on the edge, to snap like brittle iron. But who knows... maybe he would strike the creature with his fists, and choke it to death.

[Unter]

Iver looked at Libourg seriously. He had unknotted his sling, and this could only mean one thing : an excessive use of strength.
He spoke, and Iver understood. Nasuada's foolishness had once again put them into deep trouble. He watched as the beast was preparing to counter attack. They needed to act. Quickly. He looked at Libourg, and then he looked at the beast. He saw what Libourg wanted to do. Just like at the circus. He picked his heavy bladed knife, and looked at Libourg.

"All right, thumbs up, let's do this !"

Just like at the circus.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Sicherlein/

She winced as the varying degrees of surging aggression from her comrades overwhelmed her ears; her shoulders shrunk and she quietly skipped to the leftmost flank of the party, eager to break free from the uncomfortable closeness of everyone.
Especially considering the last beast who'd detonated in light of this haphazard expedition's heroes.

Instead, she watched as shadows made manifest in unearthly tendrils; things folk lore spoke of, what murals and carvings only hinted at in perceived madness or drug-induced euphoria. Yet here, now... Sicherlein had half a thought to keep one of those flowers to test if it had such a hallucinogenic affect. Though, considering the combined madness of the party, reality felt all too present at the time.

With her hands shaking slightly, she watched with wide-eyed eagerness and terror, as she shakily tore a piece of fabric from the skirt of her jacket and began to bind it around the torch again, to keep it fueled...
\\

[Vanitypirate]

Beast:
The tempo of the beating of the grate slowed as Ibrahim cast the hex, though it still bore down with the same ferocity.
As Sicherlein refueled the torch, the room in a seven-meter radius was bathed in revealing, sickening torchlight. The face of the beast was revealed as Nasuada's tentacles just barely grazed its metal plates-- understandable, given the condition the spell was cast in.

...Though, it was more an all-encompassing mouth than a face. At the end of its meaty neck was a gaping maw filled with teeth, enclosing on themselves with a shudder with every breath the creature took.
It was as tall as it was wide, a good three meters by the look of it, though it was difficult to tell in the dark. Its round body was draped in all manner of scrap metal, crudely fused onto its body as some means of armor.

In its massive, two arms, which sprouted fingers at the ends of them in the same manner twigs might fork from a branch, it held what seemed to be a glaive in form. A pole fashioned from metal bent and crushed together, while the end of it was flared out into a wicked blade.

It appeared to have three hooved legs, two on the ground served for locomotion, while the third dangled vestigially off of one side. An abomination by all accounts, and in another instant it was clattering towards the fore of the group, Libourg and Iver, with its glaive poised to strike.

Big Room:
The torch washed the blood-spattered room like a wave. It shined off the Beast, which was now rushing Iver and Libourg. It revealed the corpse of a masked woman in robes, similar to the ilk that ambushed Iver's group. It showed, to the keen-eyed, that she had perished to a small gash, of all things, just beneath her jawline.

There was a grate not far from the group with thick bars that had begun to fold inward, though there was just enough distance between the floor and the bottom of the bars for the boy to crawl in, it seemed. He was crouched behind it, in a tunnel no larger than three meters.
A shard of glass was gripped so hard in his small hand that it had nicked the skin of his fingers fingers.

A dangerous amount of blood spilled from a chunk missing in his left shoulderblade, and the arm hung limply. He seemed to grow silent as the attention of the monster turned away from him, though he did give a small squeak at the sight of the tentacles that lashed ineffectively at the beast.

[relentless]

/Libourg/
He heard the creature clatter and clamber its way toward them in its junkyard glory, making him look back, only to regret it as he made eye contact with the beasts large form and turned back to face Iver.
"Fuckin' go Iver! Aim for its bloody throat, bleed the bastard pig dry!"
Libourg barked at him with an alarming level of worry prominent in his voice. His feet felt light like feathers, tempting to fly across the guttural winds of the Warrens, but he held himself steadfast. After all, he served in the frontlines during his time in the war. If his armour and demeanor wasn't obvious enough, that is.

He get his hands over one another, extending them forward a tad in preparation for Iver to make his leap of hopeful resolution. If not... he could always bash the creatures legs out, perhaps all that scrap metal was protecting a thin veil to vital organs. Perhaps with one good bash, he could force the scrap metal to puncture the creatures innards if its wielded on tight.