As Tristan looked upon the destruction wrought upon the town's courtyard by (the falsely assumed) C-3, the young man couldn't help but release a heavy sigh. That was now two innocent villages that had been damaged by his rash party members and he was already predicting that they were far from the last. Had he really found his adventuring party in this world or was he actually helping the baddies? Perhaps it was Charlotte he needed to defeat so he could move on to the next world. Looking back upon how their journey had progressed so far actually, that theory was beginning to gain weight. Before it could be given any further serious thought though, the stench of death suddenly wafted toward him. Those who lacked the life experiences he had accumulated over the years, may have been mistaken that death held only one stench. That being the all too common smell of decay and filth that one might find on a battlefield or in a plague-ridden hospice. However, each of the various undead among worlds carried their own unique smells. Zombies and such tended to be the most disgusting, causing the weak of stomach to commonly lose their lunch when a horde was close. Poltergeists tended to leave behind that strange, green goop in frequent hauntings, which smelled like eggs that had gone bad. Vampires though? Their smell usually reminded Tristan of embalming fluid and blood. Before he could begin to track down the undead monster in their midst, she would make herself known by turning to look at him with a motion that reminded the hero of an own twisting its head around. This, followed by the fang-filled smile she showed him, would not put Tristan's nerves at ease. His hand would begin to move toward the sword that sat within the scabbard at his hip until he picked up what she said to her newfound friend. [color=0072bc][i]Help? What could she possibly need my help for?[/i][/color] Relaxing his stance but still keeping a hand ready at his side, the hero approached the two girls at the destroyed fountain.