“[color=mediumslateblue]It’s actually Lannit.[/color]” 

“[color=ed1c24]I wouldn’t bother.[/color]”

Jaakuna shook his head at Lannit with an annoyed expression on his face. Lannit would catch the hint, and now would follow Lorenzo, who had assumed the position of leader as he would take charge forth.

There was probably just fifty paces separating the three blonde men from the Hall of the Wroth God. Surprisingly, there didn’t seem to be any sign of monsters within the area. Jaakuna found that odd. First off, Sochen Cave Palace was crawling with monsters of all sorts, so it was definitely intriguing, if not just slightly off putting, that there seemed to be none in sight. Furthermore, what was this uncertain feeling that Jaakuna got in the pit of his stomach? It felt like dread, but at the same time, it was something entirely different.

As they came to a waystone, Jaakuna would see Lorenzo gesture him and Lannit to surround the pedistal. Jaakuna sighed, walking behind Lannit as they all surrounded it. A field of crimson mist surrounded them as they were warped into time-space. In the span of three moments, they were in a large hall that had candles that burned iridescent red, seeming almost crimson. The entire room had two waystones: one where the three blonde men were at and one five hundred paces opposite of them. From a vertical standpoint, it was five hundred paces from waystone to waystone. From a horizontal standpoint, it was three hundred to three hundred. The ground was seeming made of some kind of maroon concrete.

“[color=mediumslateblue]Well isn’t this cheery.[/color]” Lannit quipped.

“[color=ed1c24]They don’t call it the Hall of the Wroth God for nothing, huh?[/color]” JAakuna quipped along with Lannit.

As they observed the hall, they both came to a mutual glance, nodding at each other.

“[color=mediumslateblue]There’s nothing here,[/color]” Lannit remarked, gesturing to all angles of the hall. There was nothing in sight. “[color=mediumslateblue]We could probably skip this fight.[/color]” Lannit stepped forward five paces with a big grin on his face, then suddenly a field of hot, dense, fiery mist engulfed fifty paces wide and fifty paces high. Quickly, Lannit jumped back, barely escaping the inferno that had suddenly just appeared.

Jaakuna shook his head at Lannit. He was going to say something, but then Jaakuna heard such a ear-screeching roar that his attention immediately went to that. It seemed to have originated from the fiery mist. Only in moments would Jaakuna, as well as Lorenzo and Lannit, see that it was indeed the Hell Wyrm. It looked like its poster: tall, eight magick glyphs hovering over its large body, and a face not even a mother could love. Above all, however, its entire body was as if the pits of the underworld came up, and took physical form.

“[color=ed1c24]So what was that you were saying about nothing being here?[/color]” Jaakuna snickered.

“[color=mediumslateblue]Oh shut up,[/color]” Lannit scowled at Jaakuna, “[color=mediumslateblue]let’s just beat this big fucker.[/color]” 

Lannit had reloaded his Needle Rifle, aiming it at the Hell Wyrm. JAakuna chuckled, and poised himself to strike. However they were going to do this would have to be figured out sooner rather than later because the Hell Wyrm came charging at them, surrounded in hellfire.

[hr]
When those final four slugs entered Levi’s motionless corpse, Savayna found it odd that she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t feel satisfaction nor did she have feelings of sadness; it was just emptiness. Even the sounds of the four bullets being fired didn’t produce a reaction. All it did was remind Savayna that life was short. It was given just as fast as it was given away. Savayna knew that.

Savayna took her sword, and sheathed it, not saying anything to Grant after he had done the deed. She simply started walking away, not even wanting to wait for her new fiance. 
[hr]
Nadeline Lenore Roselia presented herself to him. Old Dalan would take a swig of his Bangaa Ale in one hand and a draft of his pipe in the other. As her request would be laid out in front of him, he hummed quite obviously, almost zany-like. Her eyes made her intention clear to him, still the elderly man couldn’t help but contemplate this request, taking long moments before arriving to a conclusion of sorts.

“[color=cd5c5c]The Princess of Rozarria wishes to find her soon-to-be husband’s dead brother,[/color]” Old Dalan was testing her. But no, one look into her eyes, and he knew she knew about the late prince’s sudden reappearance from the dead. “[color=cd5c5c]No, this princess is not a fool like many would be inclined to believe.[/color]” The old man mused a half-grin.

Old Dalan set down both his pipe and jug of ale. He would lean forward, taking Nadeline’s chin in the grasp of his wrinkily hand. He brought her face close to his. Her examined her eyes, seeing the truth within the truth, possibly looking for a doubt of some kind. After a minute of keeping her face so close to his that the stench of smoke and alcohol was all she would smell, he released her, curing a smile. 

“[color=cd5c5c]Before I give the Princess of Rozarria this highly valuable information, tell Old Dalan why it is you wish to find him?[/color]” Old Dalan had leaned back, old, fading hazelnut eyes gazing upon Nadeline.
[hr]