[hr][center][@Zverda] [color=thistle]Anala Attor[/color][/center][hr]Anala rode up to the building and found a place to stash her horse where it would be safest before stepping inside, an almost annoyed expression on her face. No one had told her that she would have to deal with Acid Sleet in her travels. Then again, no one really knew what she was doing anyway so it wasn't like she had given them the chance to tell her what to expect from the places outside of her home. Letting out a sigh, she went over to Sebastian and Lucian to check on the child, he was badly injured but he would live and that was more than she could say for Markus. While he had been a great friend, maybe it was best that someone who truly knew her was no longer around, even if his death did hurt.

[color=thistle]"Think there is a way to make them shut up?"[/color] she asked with a raised brow, [color=thistle]"Maybe would should see what those crocodile tears are all about in a village that is supposedly high on Dream Pastries."[/color] She made a face, such disgusting things those were, stopping people from facing the reality in which they needed to see. There was no point in hiding from something that would never go away and it was cowardly to do so.

Then there was the fact that the strange man who had offered no name but his puppet's was dragging the corpse of their Guide. No one had been able to save Markus and by dumb luck the Paladin had been able to save Egil before he died. Maybe it wasn't dumb luck though? She shook her head, no use thinking about how things could have gone if that was not the way they had went. For now they needed to nurse wounds and figure out what exactly was happening is this strange place.

[hr][center][@BCTheEntity] [color=deepskyblue]Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin[/color][/center][hr]Your companions have slain the dead in your stead. Why falter from your purpose?

[color=deepskyblue][b]'Why let a man die needlessly?'[/b][/color] Talran murmured under his breath in response. The drunken monk, despite appearances, managed quite tactfully to put down both remaining zombies in a single blur of motion, and Egil was already looking more put-together for having been healed before his impending doom arrived. Equally, the others all seemed to be alive and well, their unfortunate guide excepted; yet even he was being brought into the building by the nameless owner of George the puppet, a process Talran made an effort to assist with, at least before the man in question apparently teleported a significant distance.

There were many matters to address in the near future, such as Zaerith's nature and Mhyrienne's priorities. First and foremost, though, Lucian's health. The moment Talran entered the building and espied the discarded guide, he moved into the air, swooping over the boy's head on his wings of light in a way that he hoped drew attention away from the mauled body, and landing deftly before him and the Lady Anala's manservant. The voice seemed to want to press him further, to address the boy's weakness directly, but with screwed-up eyes and a focused effort, he pressed his angelic heritage back into himself, contained and, as he generally found, unable to rise again for a while yet.

[color=deepskyblue]'Ah... tell me, lad, are you faring decently?'[/color] he asked the boy whilst kneeling down to match his height, again an effort to draw his mind away from the trauma of the guide's desecrated corpse. Part of his to-do list would also involve bearing his sympathies to Anala, for she seemed to have been good friends with Markus, but that ought to come later. He recalled, too, the lock of hair Morgantha had stolen from Lucian; that, he felt, might be the more important matter, if she did in fact utilize it the way he thought she would.

[hr][center][@Lady Selune] [color=darkmagenta]Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious[/color][/center][hr]Her companions... Were running off. No need for her to stick around then. Flicking her arm out wide, she let the black blood of the giant zombie clean itself, before watching as the blade dissipated. As it turned out, the monk seemed quite capable at what he was doing, despite the copious amounts of imbibed alcohol, and she rapidly found herself having to hurry along with the group... With the strange man who talked to his puppet managing to cross an extraordinary distance in the blink of an eye. 

Perhaps he was less crazy than she thought he was. Or maybe he was just extraordinarily good at concealing his wisdom behind a veneer of insanity. Either way, she was now sprinting as fast as she could, long legs meaning that she was more than capable of matching pace with the rest of the group. They burst into the building, the elf finding herself a little rattled.

She had realized something, on that street. The connection between the mysteries of this town. Running a hand through her hair, which the accursed sleet had done nothing to help her with, she checked herself down, making sure that she hadn't been too bad. Now then.

What was this place doing as boarded up and abandoned as it was?