[b][center][h3][color=orange] Lein [/color][/h3][/center][/b]
[hr]
[b][color=orange]Location:[/color][/b] The Cazt Mausoleum
[b][color=orange]Interactions:[/color][/b] [@HereComesTheSnow] [@ERode] [@VitaVitaAR] [@Raineh Daze] [@Rune_Alchemist]
[hr]	

	Lein's usual ironripper bow didn't have a name. Its simple, sturdy but pedestrian craftsmanship had served him well enough over his travels. It had earned its grooves and worn out strings over many quivers of arrows, and its bent iron sight guide signed Lein's attempts at fixing his distance shooting habit of listing rightwards. Still, Lein couldn't help but look at some of the more magical bows from time to time. Iron slugs could punch through armor fine - but why not also make them on fire? Or seek out his enemies like live predators?

	All that was to say that he missed the ragged old thing sorely. The so-called 'bow' he had in his hand was as a pheasant - all show, with its crusted engravings and hammered sights, but couldn't hold a leg to the bite of the ironripper. It was, in part, Lein's fault that he had requested something expensive to...acquisition from the armory over some more pragmatic. Perhaps Lein could at the very least hang this thing on a wall looking all pretty-like if Lein managed to crawl out of here alive. In the meantime, Lein fetched himself a length of rope and sneaked back into the abandoned dance hall and harangued a servant to fill a small tablecloth's worth of flour. Three small sacks of flour, throw-able in perhaps a necromancer's face. Just in case things just wasn't going their end.

	And finally, they marched their way into the Cazt crypt. Polished walls, lovingly adorned with the history of every minor. Lein was not so crass as to spit in this place. As much as Lein bucked many a times the garishness and pompousness of nobles (and yes, this crypt WAS too garish and pompous), he didn't feel the same kind of revulsion to this place. Say... Lein couldn't quite place why. He just felt that this place was incredibly lonely. So many statues, reveling in marble, acting as if to hold life against the ceaseless march of time. Legends, yearning to be read and sung and taught and praised. But really, the real flesh of them all had been gorged on by maggots and worms, rotting under the weight of their own extravagance. Even in death these people would claw at any form of life. Folly. Lein hated that he knew it so well.

	The dead here refused to remain where they belonged, in sodden memory and distant yearning. So back down Lein sent them, though most of the battle was done whilst Lein was busy checking the mausoleum's outskirts for any explosives or traps. Sure, the nem [i]could[/i] be telling them the truth. But who wasn't to say the assassin wasn't fibbing? Or the assassin was just lied to? If he was the necromancer, this was quite the trick to pull off - split the defenders into two, collapse the crypt entrance so one group can't get out whilst they were in the necromancer's advantageous domain, and fight the remainder at one's leisure. It was almost disappointing to see, though, that Lein was perhaps alone in thinking of such a scheme.

	So down they went, only to meet someone who claimed to be 'Damon Cazt'. Something akin to a vampire, judging by the fact that he looked far too pristine to be a corpse.

	[color=orange]"Sorry, you're not really my type."[/color] Lein jabbed a thumb back toward a coffin, cheerily jeering, [color=orange]"Think you just might have a chance with your sister over there, though?" [/color]

	Lein looked at Gerard and shrugged in response to Serenity's declaration of a duel. Pace her, he would not. If the small time that Lein took observing this ill-tempered knight convinced him of anything, it was that she would not be convinced of anything. Many compared her to a lioness, but Lein would easier compare her to a bull or jousting horse - forward, and not one step edgewise. So the best thing to do now was just Lein to step out of the way and let the knight have some lone time with the vampire, else Lein get slammed into a wall afterwards for 'stealing the glory of dying alone'. [color=orange]"Fetch his lapel for me and I'll get Mori to write a ballad in your honor, Serenity!"[/color]

	Despite Lein's mirth, he was worried. They were now spreading thin. Fleuri, Vier and Steff was dealing with some kind of axe wielding statue aspirant, and now Serenity. From the vampire's mouth, it was probably exactly within the necromancer's plan. Lein addressed Fanilly. [color=orange]"Capt, are we floggin' the horses too hard on this one? We're in a crypt, whoever's in here got jack to go, and we're already spread pretty wide. We don't know what the necromancer's planning, with us dropping cards like this."[/color]