Tordor peered out across the great expanse of the fortress, taking in its many spires, and towers. The wind buffeted him as he did a quick recon of the area. Was that?... yes off in the distance Tordor could see what looked like a separate structure that resembled a small fortified building. A good place as any to be the athenaeum that he and his ally were looking for.       

[color=pink]"Such a beautiful place...what do you think this fort was used for, before it was abandoned?"[/color]

Tordor stepped away from the wide window, a hand on his hat to keep it from flying off with the wind. 

[color=DarkSlateBlue]“Hmm, hard to say. But my guess is those who lived here must have been masters of the arcane. Judging by the stability of this place.”[/color]

It was at that moment one of his spirits pulsed cautiously beside him. The space there filled with a cold sense of pain and regret.  Tordor turned to the arched entrance that lead into the towers roundabout chamber. Over the whistling of the wind against his coat he could faintly make out the distinct sound of something approaching...something large perhaps?  

He raised his left arm in warning to his partner as he moved to stand beside on of the rooms pillars facing the entrance more than ten yards away. A chorus of whispering voices sounded in warning, but too quietly for Tordor to make out what is being said.   

[color=DarkSlateBlue]“I think we’re about to have company.”[/color] He said absently as he fingered a trigger attached to his belt. The mechanism built into his sheath activated the clockwork device, making a faint whirring noise as it spun- gathering nether slowly as it did. It always paid to be on the safe side. Still the sound could just be his imagination. There was only one way to know for sure. 

The soul of the false spirit flickered and shot away, passing through solid walls as if they were but open air. In moments it returned projecting, more than saying, what it had seen. Looking away for a moment as if listening to something or someone, Tordor nodded then looked to Itsuki.        
        
[color=DarkSlateBlue]“Best get ready, seems that competition might be on their way.”[/color] 

When or if Itsuki drew her swords, Tordor would wave his left hand. Sending a freezing cold wave of pure nether toward her weapons- igniting them in black fire with a crackling sound. 

[color=DarkSlateBlue]“Just bit extra you might find useful.”[/color] Giving her an almost mischievous grin.