[center]
[h1]Kael’valtar, The City of Soaring Hopes[/h1]
[hr][/center]
Good, they weren’t following behind him like a bunch of preschoolers who needed to hold hands in order to go to the washroom. Taking in a deep breath, Darius narrowed his eyes and plunged into the most crowded streets he could find, pressing himself against the walls of flesh that would have practically devoured him if he wasn’t so tall and bulky. It smelled weird and disgusting and all those other negative attributes one would associate with having to be stuck inbetween so many…people? Monsters? Animals? It was a good enough screen though, and, even as those armored guards milled about, Darius felt safe enough at the moment, walking through the busiest streets and keeping to himself.
 
The spices and ripe fruits melded with bodily sweat, creating a heady aroma as he half-shuffled through the cobbled roads of the city. Smoke from vendors grilling skewers of meat caused his eyes to sting, but he ignored it. He had no money and no time for those distractions, and it wasn’t like the vendors themselves looked too friendly in his eyes. Sure, one of those crocodile-headed merchants smiled at him as he passed, but it was all teeth and more than just a little scary. Looking up once more with his eyes, the brunette searched for any more of those armored guards. It was clear by the moment of their heads that they were looking for someone in particular, and it became increasingly clear that the elven bastard probably slipped a word to their captain or whatever.
 
It was really tempting, then, in the stifling crowds, to shed his cloak and steal a hat or something…but Darius wasn’t a pickpocket, and his face was already seen by that elf bastard anyways, so there was no point. He continued to follow the ebb and flow of the crowd, ready to bolt the moment something out of the ordinary happened.
 
There weren’t any screams at the moment. Good, so those others hadn’t gotten caught yet.
 
[center]
[h1]The Ruined City of Mankind, Halton[/h1]
[@chukklehed][@ProfessorNV][@WhitePulse]
[hr][/center]
Despite the dampness in the air, the stone steps were, thankfully, not very slippery. With careful probing and slow steps, the two would be able to make it down  to the floor with little incidence, even when it was pitch black. There were no windows, no convenient glowstones, that provided any source of illumination, and by the time they reached the area where that voice most likely would have been, they could do nothing but trust in their ability to hear and feel.

The ground floor was damp, and the room itself was cavernous. Each step that they took was accompanied by a splash, groundwater filling up their shoes and making each footstep rather uncomfortable. The sounds of dripping water could be heard in every which direction, and it was rather obvious that whatever drainage system that might have once existed here was long gone. At the very least, they were deep enough in the core of the building that the rainstorm could no longer be heard.

As Dominic and Free wandered about in search of the voice, a ball of light flickered into existence. It wasn’t attached to a string, nor did it appear to run on electrical power. Shedding a cold, blue light, that orb allowed them to see for a radius of five meters, before it lackadaisically wandered off. The mysterious orb traced a path through the waterlogged cavern, eventually leading the unlikely couple up a slight incline, and towards individual that had called for them.

They were now in what appeared to be a hallway filled with hieroglyphic scribblings, and the light had grown stronger, more potent than before.
 
[center]
[h1]The Nest of the Highborn[/h1]
[@Shikaru][@VitaVitaAR]
[hr][/center]
As the three began their comedy routine or whatever else it was, the uncanny wind picked up, roused into a fury by those that had trespassed onto the grounds. The smell of death and decay swirled all about the three in a maddening spiral, the gale shrieking at them madly. Through the buffeting veil, the trio could hear an incessant chit-chattering, as if something was tapping their claws or manibles together. As if it was communicating. As if it was….

The storm of dust-brown wind was changing, gaining form, gaining substance. It was taking the shape of a snake, six insectoid wings sprouting from its back as it revealed its terrible form to the mortals before it. The chit-chattering was not from its ‘teeth’, but from the fluttering of its wings, even though there was no need for the wind elemental to raise up its intangible body. For a moment there, it stayed floating, a two-story monster that smelled of the dead.

And then, like lightning from the night sky, it descended upon Kevin, swallowing him whole. Nary a scream escaped from the young man’s mouth before the snake’s body was colored red, the stench of blood now mixing with the blood.

Despite that violent action, however, the wind elemental did not follow up with yet another taking of life. Instead, it opened its mouth, and a voice eerily similar to Kevin’s resounded in a distorted manner, as if it was spoken whilst holding a fan to one’s mouth.
[center]
[i]“Ye who trespassed on the holy pilgrimage,
Ye who desecrated the ancestral dead,
Ye who robbed the descandant’s wings,
Ye of Scion-blood,
Dost thou understand the blood-price of thine sins?”[/i][/center]