Had Neil been present during the duel, he would have cheered her on and whooped without shame. Perhaps he could have even helped. Most men wouldn't have had the courage or audacity, but Neil Edwards was certainly an exception. Instead, however, he found himself upstairs and about to lose his life to a massive cleaver-like blade swinging via a pendulum. The thief was given a fright, not that he didn't expect a trap, but he didn't think the entire bloody library was rigged! Neil leaped forward, the blade shearing off the back half of his loose noble's vest, giving it the look of having its back half bitten by an overly huge canine. 

"Fuck! Already!?" He said to fate, who was a cruel mistress. He tore off the vest, leaving himself with the top fit for a fashionable duelist or barista in certain circles. He hated wearing anything gaudy but jewelry he had freshly stolen, but when he turned to see the trap he had narrowly avoided, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished blade. Neil took the moment to fix his hair and puff up his chest, noting he cut quite the figure. "Look at you, you handsome rapscallion." 

The fortress shook, something massive occurring elsewhere. Reverberating rumbles sprang up from the stairway, along with distant cries he thought might be screams. The shaking caught him off guard, Neil falling onto the carpeted floor on his ass. A small swiveling sound drew his attention upwards, and with a cry of alarm he rolled as a stone pillar shot from one of the sectioned bit of stone above, smashing into the ground a mere hand from where he had been. The wind from the stone had filled his nostrils with dust, and as it raised back up, the floor began to roil and crumble. The rogue found his foot was sliding into a forming hole, and he scrambled away as quickly as possible, bypassing a bookshelf, noticing almost too late the pressure plate his knee had pressed upon. 

Spikes as long as Neil's forearm were unsheathed on the edge of the bookshelf, the great piece of furniture swinging towards Neil's position. Luckily, Neil was still crawling, merely getting pummeled by the flying books and cedar frame, pushing him perilously close to the massive gaping maw that had formed from the previous trap of stone. To Neil's surprise and utter bewilderment, the hole was glowing, an impossibly bright pit of liquid metal belching steam that could permanently burn a man's flesh from his bones. Neil's head was nearly over the lip of the hole, and without bothering to glance around, he grabbed one of the spikes from the swinging bookshelf and let it drag him across the floor, away from the traps. 

"Why are wizard's like this?" He asked the lonely room of death traps. "Why can't they just be fucking normal?" 

He felt a small rug burn on his ass, but it was better than being skewered so he just let his weight get dragged, and found himself about halfway through the room. In fact, he could see a small, secondary room at the back of the great chamber of knowledge. And within was a dias, with a book bound in black leather? He thought that's what it was, at least. "Good," he said aloud, picking himself up and dusting the bits of debris off himself. Gingerly, he reached into his pocket to retrieve the item Calliope had gifted him. In the palm of his hand was a perfectly smooth orb, entirely black save for the silver thread in the shape of a serpent slithering across its surface. He didn't entirely know what he was supposed to do with it, but it looked pretty, if nothing else. 

The sound of steel on steel drew his attention, and from the wall across the expanse of the right wing of the library, there was an opening he hadn't seen before. Three footmen stood there, swords at the ready and eyes blazing fanatically. "You! What do you do here!?" The front one asked. He had a square jaw Neil was certain could carve granite. The other two stepped beside him, a lanky one and a more hefty man, all bedecked in the finest steel breastplates and open faced helms.

"I was just looking for the bathroom." 

"Magister Therman told us to check this room for an intruder. Do you insult our intelligence or his?" The man growled, taking a step forward. His eyes darted from Neil to the ground, and the thief realized they weren't invulnerable to the traps. They had them memorized! He watched their eyes intently, trying to judge where they looked to ascertain the best way to proceed. The fatter one stayed in the back, a bit more wary than the other two as they inched their way towards Neil. That is, until halfway across the expanse of carpet, the man with the sword offered his hand and lowered the blade in his other. "Bring yourself in quietly, and we will forgive you for your transgressions against our master. Perhaps we'll throw you into the atrium portal and send you somewhere where you might live comfortably?"

"Look, no offense but your master is a big asshole," Neil remarked with a grin, now on the balls of his feet. He could surmise a few of the hotspots to avoid now, and though he didn't know everything, the guards here actually were a benefit. 

"You dare!?" He cried. 

"We must kill him," the lanky one said, hatred in his eyes. 

"Ok ok, I take it back. I shouldn't say he's an asshole. You're right, I'm sorry. All I meant was, Magister Therman has shady, closed door dealings with men of ill repute across the city at late hours doing unspeakable things." Neil admitted, holding his hands out as if to assuage them. They looked confused at that statement, not understanding the bait. Another smile bloomed on Neil's face a moment later when he added: "Just like your fucking girlfriends." 

"THAT'S IT KNAVE!" The fat one roared as the other two brandished their swords with murderous intent. Somewhat older than the front two, the bearded man barreled forward, evidently stepping where no traps lay. "No one insults my Hilda and lives!" 

Neil then did all of the wrong things. Stepping wherever they didn't want him to step, bouncing off the wall with a kick and landing at different locations of the carpet and beside desks, before leaping back as swiftly as he could to the relative island of safety beside the killer bookshelf. What followed could most readily be described as a bloodbath. Mines that shot spikes flew up and punctured throats. A draconic statue erupted flames from its maw across the carpet, singing the fabric and immolating the front guard, but the worst came last. The lanky footman had somehow gotten out of it with but a flesh wound, making it to Neil and swinging at him. Neil ducked, the sword biting into the cedar as it stuck fast. Kicking out, Neil sent the whispy fellow stumbled backwards, his feet tripping over a small cord, now broken from the man's weight. 

A small vial fell from above, turning end over end until it hit the ground with a quiet, almost majestic shattering of glass. At first, Neil only witnessed a bit of black oil seeping out of the vial. The only thing he felt off was that the oil moved as if it had a mind of its own, stretching to two meters and forming a weird, oval shape. The guard sat up, a few feet from the newly formed hole. He eyed it warily, clearing his throat so he could chuckle. 

"You thought you got me," He taunted Neil. The thief was about to admit that wasn't a very good trap, until tentacles the size of Neil's torso burst out of the hole with impossible speed, slithering over the helpless guard, who could only squeak in panic before he was enveloped. Neil shuddering, even seeing one of the tentacles violating the man in every hole that could be found. Wherever the hole led to, it wasn't the material plane of existence. 

Neil walked forward, stepping where he thought he should and making sure not to get his dirtied from the corpses or feet wet from the blood. 

"Unsummon," Neil said, holding out the small black sphere in the direction of the eldritch abomination. He saw in rapt amazement as the tentacles shuddered as if fighting the command, then sliding back into the darkness from whence it came, dragging the body of the guard with it. The 'oil' that had formed now lessened until it was no more, and Neil looked at the ball in his hand. How had that worked? And how did he know to do that? It was Calliope's doing, likely. Best to just count himself lucky and continue on. The next dozen feet were slow, but it seemed the room had been spent of traps. Neil breathed a sigh of relief once he entered the small room, not seeing any hints of mechanical triggers now that he could look up close. Slowly, he pressed his foot on the dias and then backed up. 

Nothing. 

He stepped back on, pocketing the orb and then grabbing the book. It was completely unremarkable, except for the spine of the tome that stung to look at, etching of blood in an unknowable language wreathed upon its surface. He gave a tired breath, sighing. That had been too close too many times. He was just thinking of how pleased Calliope and he would be once they left, money and the book in their grasp. 

That was when the keep shook, and not the shuddering of earlier. Neil felt like a god had grabbed the stone, and was slowly crushing it to death... 

[hr] 

[i]Minutes later...[/i] 

"Hey babe. Babe wake up!" Neil smacked Calliope's face as hard as he dared, which wasn't that hard truth be told. But it would have woken her up if she could, and it looked she was out cold. "Come on, wake up you dark, scary, gorgeous murderer!... dammit!" 

Masonry crumbled and people screamed as the ground undulated from some unknown force. Some people in the bower were still under the influence of whatever dreamed narcotics they consumed, lost in ecstasy, but most understood their plight and ran for what they perceived were the exits. Neil had the distinct feeling the guests weren't going to make it. He groaned in annoyance and swept her up in his arms, the book firmly nestled within his shirt. He started for the doors, running after two noble ladies into an archway, until Neil was nearly thrown to the side and the stone cracked, crumbling atop the women, their screams muffled until they were no more. 

"Ok, think. Think, what-" And then it dawned on him. "... portal, got it." 

Neil ran back towards the stairway, dust and light debris hitting his head. He didn't know why he was blocking most of it from hitting Calliope. She had used him quite a bit, after all. [i]That was you volunteering too, idiot[/i], he thought. "True, plus she's really hot." He said to himself as he leaped up the stairs two to three steps at a time. An Atrium would be at the top floorm right? He wasn't great with terms of architecture, but it was there or nowhere. He passed by an older butler with the neck of a turkey that hustled down the stairs, fear in his eyes. 

Neil's breathing was labored once he got to the fifth floor. He didn't know how much further it was, and though Calliope wasn't heavy, carrying any adult up the stairs was taxing, particularly after all of the normal acrobatics. Another floor...another... The fortress was now growling and teetering, some of the hallways Neil passed were already falling into the abyss. He wheezed and stumbled, holding Calliope tight and getting back up, using another burst of energy to make it to the top of the keep. He wanted to talk to Calliope or make a quip, but he hadn't the breath. He couldn't even gasp when he saw the portal itself. 

The atrium was huge, shattered glass lay on the marble floor and potted plants and beakers of alchemical variants were scattered and fallen. A chair was on fire from one of the vials spilled contents. But it was the center of the room, where an archway made of brass and swirling with energies beyond Neil's comprehension loomed. Beside it was a stone, connected via some sort of silvery seam that met both the archway, the stone, and the ground. Neil didn't have time to tinker with it, as parts of the central floor were now giving way. He went into a dead sprint, Calliope bouncing in his arms as he ran, stumbling nearly into nothingness before one last, great, leap. 

The two flew into the archway, and reality spun as they were sent hurtling through time and space. To where? Neil knew not, his chest boiling and his eyes feeling like they were about to be plucked out of his sockets. He screamed, but there was no sound. He could see nothing, but existence was in his sight. And then he and Calliope were falling, and he felt sunlight on his skin, and distantly he saw mountains and forests, and the fire from dozens of chimneys, and the two hit a snowbank with a loud crunch. Neil didn't know where they were...but it was cold.