[center][h3]Helena[/h3]
[@Ithradine][/center]

A quick peep over the ravine's edge confirmed that the priestess seemed to notice, as well. A mixture of curiosity and worry adorned the woman's face, and when her guardians moved to evacuate her, she did not resist. Curiously the humans appeared to be unaware, which baffled Helena given the noise, vibration, and ambient rise in temperature, but she soon reasoned that her senses must simply be more acute than theirs. Regardless, the holy company made haste to depart, with the carriage rolling out once again in a matter of moments. [i]Ah, well,[/i] Helena thought. [i]Can't be helped. At least there seemed to be no impulse to find out what the source of the disturbance was, which is prudent.[/i] Though no benefit to the Cathedral came to mind, the ghoul commander could not stop herself looking over the faces of the peasant crowd. Every one of the humans looked more full of life, able to stand a little taller with smiles of joy on their faces. [i]That woman...even if here just for a moment, she changed these people's lives for the better.[/i] A hint of a wistful smile tugged at the corners of Helena's mouth. She would not at all have minded such looks of happiness and fulfillment directed at her.

“...Commander?”

With a slight start, Helena turned about at speed. Tungus, who spoke, instinctively recoiled, but the visage of annoyance on Helena's face was not meant for him. Her loathing fell upon herself for having let herself be distracted by something of no consequence to her guild. Composing herself in an instant, she clasped her hands behind her back and replied. “Yes?”

Tungus pointed a thumb in the direction of the southern road. “Spotted some'ne 'eaded this way, boss. A ways out and movin' slow, but take a look.” 

After moving across the ravine toward where it sloped up and going prone, Helena did exactly that. Through the fronds of grass her sharp eyes could make out a solitary individual, also human, clothed in white. The cleanliness and the starkness of her garb contrasted the pastoral world around her utterly, but not so much as the weapon she possessed. Held in one hand as easily as Tatter might hold her Steward's Wand despite appearing heavy enough to tax any human, the scythe glimmered in the daylight menacingly. The lady in white walked as though in a trance, no emotion shown on her face nor awareness given to her surroundings, in the direction of the village. More than that, however, Helena got the feeling that this mysterious new arrival was headed toward [i]her[/i].

The notion intrigued her enough to give the situation some thought. Scythes, though ostensibly implements for farming and fittingly unwieldy, often appeared as the weapons of choice for reapers, liches, and devils, whose natural abilities made moot the tools' impracticality. More to the point, they carried with them the connotation of death, supposedly reaping lives as effortlessly as they reaped grain. Could it be that this stranger sensed death, or undeath? Not unreasonable to assume, though why then would she be targeting Helena? [i]I'm no expert of monsters, but I'm sure that ghouls are not undead. I was returned from death, but using a flawed Revive spell rather than necromancy, which Tatter used Ghoul Vitae to complete.[/i] More plausibly, the stranger could sense monsters, or perhaps malefic auras. If so, that tidbit might just be the most poignant info Helena found so far, since it would mean that measures would have to be taken for aura or essence masking for future expeditions.

Helena backpedaled back down into the ravine until she could crouch while remaining out of sight. Urgency in her voice, she gave her orders. “Head deeper into the ravine so that you're out of sight and move into the forest with Wide Warp. Lieutenant Gretchen, Warp back here after you move the two of them. Our aim is to maintain stealth and disengage, of course, but if that woman can detect us through some extrasensory method, we must deal with her. Go.” The group, save Helena herself, began to move at once. They hurried into the lowest point of the ravine and a moment later vanished in a black cloud, leaving their commander alone to watch. [i]This will tell us who she's after, if any of us. Could be that her target's the village itself, or perhaps the priestess and her crew, though this one's moving far too slowly to have been in pursuit of that carriage.[/i] If it turned out that the stranger could sense Helena despite the magical masking provided by the Skulker's Veil, things could get interesting.

[center][h3]Tatter[/h3]
[@FalloutJack][@Ithradine][/center]

With a solemn, woeful air, Jack patted his oblivious Bruiserjack farewell and retreated to an optimal distance. After watching the corpulent plant monster looking around for a moment, the pumpkin dandy threw a beseeching glance Tatter's way. “Must I truly invite annihilation upon so innocent and innocuous a henchman? Barely has my piteous creation begun its ponderous existence, yet for the sake of your hideous experiments I am obliged to exterminate him.” Jack laid the back of one hand against his orange forehead to emphasize the tragedy of the situation.

Tatter's disregard, meanwhile, could not be more pointed. “You can just make more, pal. Besides, I'm doing this because Volaris asked me to. You're not going to go against the will of Supreme Lord, are you...?”

She knew that Jack never intended to, but rather was compelled to milk the situation for dramatic effect. As she expected, he shook his head in theatrical fashion and squared his stance. “Vine Scourge!” he cried, and one of his hands shot out to form a barbed tendril. He lashed it across the Bruiserjack, slicing into its rubbery flesh and sending a spray of greenish fluid into the air. The creature moaned, but Jack did not relent, whipping it again and again until it was covered in bleeding gashes. A moment later his vine arm retracted, and he called out, “Infect!” His arm twisted to form sickle-like protrusion replete with dripping spines, and with an expert step forward Jack smashed it into the Bruiserjack. A second later clouds of poisonous gas welled forth from its bleeding wounds, bringing the monster to its knees in a moment. 

With a nod as his final farewell, Jack altered his arm one last time, making it into a thorn-covered scythe. “...Expunge!” At maximum force he ripped into his own minion with the weapon, and its afflictions exploded, a massive amount of fluid blasting from each wound. Gurgling its last, the Bruiserjack fell apart into drenched chunks.

Jack recoiled, rushing to brush the plant matter from his cloak. “Eugh! How repulsive! I don't remember those attacks being so...hideously visceral. I imagine I shall have nightmares for days.”

A giggle could be heard from Tatter. “Guess everything works then, maybe even better than it used to. Got all that, Es?”

The demon elf nodded, holding up her stack of papers. “Yes, Miss Tatter! All of Jack's spells and actions exceed expectations.” Her gazed hovered over the gigantic patches of corn seeded, grown, and engorged moments ago.

Tatter sighed, crossing her arms. “Kind of a shame neither Rule nor Lexicon showed up. Where is everyone?”

She looked at Jack expectantly, but he didn't seem to notice. Her woven brows narrowed at this. “Hey, you're not ignoring me, are ya pumpkin head?”

The gentleman held up a finger. In his empty eyes a subtle lime-green glow could just be made out. “My sentries! They behold the magnificence of Morningstar, poised to enter the Cathedral. She seems to have a captive. Her dulcet tones address Lord Volaris.” The glow faded, and a look of irritation came across his face. “It would be my joy to bid her welcome, yet here I am, sequestered on the fourth floor.”

Already Tatter was soaring away, making a beeline for one of the great banners hanging over the spectators' seats. “Don't worry your hollow orange noggin there, Jack. I'll zip on over and say hi. Make sure to clean up your mess!” A moment later her body hit the tapestry and went limp as her spirit transferred through the enchanted cloth.

[center]-=-=-[/center]

Just after Morningstar made her way through the Cathedral's main entrance, watched at all times by Jack's pumpkin monster sentries, one of the nearby wall hangings began to unravel itself. The lengths of cloth danced through the air like a flock of flying snakes, and when they grew close enough they wove together into the shape of a young girl. Tatter did not bother forming her lower half, as usual, instead letting those strands drift about in a fittingly ghostlike manner. Her bright teal eyes fixated upon the new arrivals, and the sun from outside shown upon her mischievous smile.

“Hey Starry. How's it been? Volaris isn't here right now -or pretty much anyone else, for that matter- but if you'd like to leave a message...?” She snickered, floating closer so that she could get a good look at the old, battered man in Morningstar's clutches. “So who's this ancient mess? If you violated Volaris's orders to stay stealthy already, he must be pretty important...” The Ubergeist caught a glimpse of the bones poking through Lucius' wounded back and grimaced. “Ew! Honestly, he could go at any second in this state. Want me to fix him up? If you were planning an interview, it'd be better if he remained conscious.” She put her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer from the king's captor as though he weren't there.