The two men wisely agreed that the search for their missing member was the most important approach if the intruder was about the premises of the manor. One less body in a skirmish, particularly one so versed in and scarred by conflict, was an advantage the enemy could not be permitted; the sort of thing that would get all others involved killed. This the leonine woman had seen before, that men in their times of greed and want of glittering gold would divide amongst themselves, only to fall prey to the perilous traps of the delve they dared.

[i]"When you summoned us, I did not anticipate it to be for the purpose of hunting someone down. It appears neither I nor Sir Hepburnberg are properly armed for this task."[/i]

"If the man Diagorides is any proof, a sword is not what makes one dangerous." The rumbling voice answered denoting her confidence in the two as men of valor and battle to fight even unarmed.

Setting the massiveness of her padded palm to the door, she opened it once more, this time being sure to lead with herself than the rest; she doubted that they without their arms and armor could take a surprise blow. To the huntress' pleasant surprise, nothing drove itself toward the enormous mithral breastplate that encompassed her bust immediately, allowing her to peer down the hall. Each end, to her eye, appeared clear and as mundane as any other night within the Lady Genevieve's manor.

The four moved through the ornately decorated hall, across the sweeping rugs and the stonework below them. The pause that followed tightened the grip around the deadly keened blade that rested within the hands of Sakaala, whose ears twitched and cupped toward the sound of voices - almost reaching out toward them. One was familiar, of no lacking in the brashness associated with it, but another was almost seductive... undoubtedly feminine and different in pattern than that of any others they had heard prior.

[i]"I... I believe I hear voices coming from Diagorides' room."[/i] Sir Erran uttered lightly, certain to keep his tone subdued.

Looking across her shrouded shoulder, the tattered ebon robes that made up her appearance, she offered a slight nod without a word.

The look within the battle-torn monster's eyes had changed, as they had become unblinking things of primal focus. That which was still alit with sight, the golden one, was the stare of a killer set to end life just within reach. The blinded eye? It remained as a phantom of days past, bearing the same focus but clearly without the sight that should have accompanied its clouded depths. All of the predatory power that made her people before a living element of this world, as monstrous to men as they were, lived again in the thrill of the prospect that the prey could have strayed to the hunter.

Returning her attention from the brief moment to the door itself, the halfling remarked again, but soon set to place her knuckles rapping to the door.

The end result, wherein the bestial sorceress had set herself ready to enter the room from the safety of the edge of the door, was that the entire building shuddered and tremendous stonework heaved itself apart just beyond. The resulting concussion that resonated throughout the ornate halls as a wall exploded into the courtyard outside was accompanied by the shattering of plates, clatter of metal, scattering of glass and tumbling of further stone. The pleasant news, if there was to be any, was that she heard the triumphant roar of the mercenary fighter, which soon overcame all the chaos and the storm outside which now filled part of the exposed room.

There was but a twitch to the numb hand that bore nothing but its leather and iron adorned gauntlet, not from the eruption of the manor, but born of the sudden rush of cold which filled the veins that were latent within the beast-woman's form. Her jowls had mouthed words, an utterance of old that over the storm of destruction could not be heard by common ears. The time to move was now in the fleeting moments and she did not delay.

With a hastened motion, her action fed by arcane magic, she delivered one clean blow upon the door, which began to fall away from the bite of the sword that carved through it. Following through, returning the hand to the ready and free of the weapon, she turned and drove her enormous form's weight into the elbow; the footwork, despite the enormity of her pawed feet, moved with astounding grace for their size - almost as though she danced upon them. The force that was the huntress body met with the door, of which still shuddered from the unnatural speed of the blow earlier, and the room was exposed in a cascading shower of splintering wood.

The moment of unmatched, mystic alacrity faded and she set herself, blade at the ready into the void without hesitation.

[@Belwicket][@Jon Y][@vietmyke][@Zero Hex][@IcePezz][@ArenaSnow]