>Collaboration between [@JBRam2002] and [@Gordian Nought].

The ferried quartet’s disturbance of the primal crypt resulted in a hazardous, audible fray among those beyond the grave’s portal, spirits pledged to guard the catacombs of their fellow brethren. Unaware, the reincarnated cleric attempted to glean the uncouth fracas below. Was it a quarrel among the gnome and Valmjr? Or were there other voices besides that of Theodore and Cesar, mounting a conflict of incorporeal humors and ether. The ancient young Aasimar stood, immobile, as forbidden tree, adjacent to the tearful Katia, weighing the consequences of the mortal taste which reaped not only darkness but also death of this very Eden. The woe and loss of such blissful thrones were cast out by the insurmountable scourge of shadowy muses, preventing any reasonable and hopeful restitution. However, the pangs of magic, swords and shields suggested a different variety of battle, unified against an unanticipated friend, deceived by the intrusion of their sepulcher.

The angelic shepherd released the sickle granting streams of light into the abyss of the reliquary. Immediately sheathed, Wick glanced at the visage of the monk, a Sinai of inspiration where divine commandments flowed and crossed the inquisitive creases of fitful mirth belonging to a disguised oracle of the Gods. This Tabaxi stumbled upon her meditation in that tranquil garden outside of Turyn. Her flight into the reborn warlock’s life was that of an ancient ode, adventurous, soaring, yet original, unattempted in prose or rhyme.

[color=ec008c]“I’ve blinked.”[/color] The aged librarian spoke, discerning, as they sampled their respite, the ruckus beyond. [color=ec008c]“Fruits wither into seeds of fear, as we remain here dormant. We as supplicants should offer flesh and silver. Flowers and blood. Their lurid altar seems to have seized the offered propitiation, resounding with unspoken promises.”[/color] She gestured to the commotion afar, perceptibly ending its self-reverberating toils and yells.

[color=ed1c24]"If they need us, they will ask,"[/color] Katia replied quietly, leaning her head against her friend's shoulder. [color=ed1c24]"I have had quite enough killing for the morning, although I doubt it will end here. A brief rest is all I require."[/color] She was loathe to make any such demands and felt guilty that she wasn't aiding her companions in their conflict, but the battle was quickly over. Thirty seconds of inaction, leading inevitably to hours of self-doubt and guilt, but she was too exhausted in this state, both mentally and physically. 

[color=ed1c24]"How can we keep doing this, Milya?" [/color]she asked softly, staring straight ahead. [color=ed1c24]"These shadows... what if they are alive? What if they are fighting us out of fear or self-defense? Still, it is either us or them... but I would rather our fighting cease. What use is it if we save a world, but lose our own soul?"[/color] She sighed before standing to her feet. [color=ed1c24]"Come. Our brethren need us."[/color]

The pair waltzed slowly, descending into the defended shrine of Ysgard. The staccato of their footsteps echoed against the silence of vanquished adversaries. Noting Theodore and Cesar in arms, the diviner beckoned, [color=ec008c]"Hail, friends. What mystery has crept upon the curious?"[/color]

For her part, Katia stood just behind Wick, arms crossed in disapproval as she surveyed the fight's aftermath. [color=ed1c24]"Would it have hurt you to wait a moment?"[/color] she asked. [color=ed1c24]"The next time you run ahead without knowing what lays before you, it could be your last."[/color]