[H2][color=#9cb6c3][right]Solomon Sparrow[/right][/color][/H2]
[right][b][color=#9cb6c3]Location: [/color][/b] Fanghorn, Kindeance [/right]
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	It was much quieter up at the second floor. The faint sound of combat and further explosions shook the floor beneath Solomon was evidence enough. Dust scattered down from the ceiling  and wafted in the air through the beams of sunlight from the near window. The room was obviously some kind of bed chamber, probably the baron’s with how well furnished it was, with rugs and tapestries, and a large bed. After a quick look around, and finding the room empty, he noticed a magical box on the nearby table. It rested with runes glowing over its surface. What magic was contained inside Solomon wasn’t sure. However, he did deem it best that the inhabitants of the keep not have access to it, with swift movement, Solomon tucked the box away.

	Now, as to his current mission to locate the prince. He held out his hand as another stream of energy radiated from the large tome near his back. It streamed in ribbons of silver and black mist culminating within his palm before dispersing into the air, as opposed to that of the ground. Slowly a white aura appear and then formed into the figure of a hideous woman. She was without legs, had long arms that ended in frail looking but lethal claws. Her skin held tightly to bone in form, warts and lashes about her angled face. Hair like static frilled all around, flowing general behind her head. Tattered dress with shredded frills around the hem covered her figure. She cackled before her eyes went wide and the form diminished back into a misshapen mass of ethereal ectoplasm and reconstituting into that of a child. An unassuming child in leggings, traveling vest, and short skirt entirely white with as her skin, the scenery behind visible through her form. She levitated inches above the ground, however her feet remained flat like she was standing on a flat surface.

	“Violet.”

	“I know.” She said softly. She looked up at the necromancer through the shadow of his hood. “I’ll help find him.” The ghost of a little girl then disappeared. Violet was more or less a ghost for the purposes of what Solomon was doing. Freely able to travel through walls much like a shadow, Violet was able to do so completely invisible even if her movement was considerably slower. Likewise, she held more power within herself, hopefully able to better withstand the purge spell Solomon felt earlier. No wonder his shadows were so easily dismissed. Likewise, his skeletons were probably also gone. For now, it was him, his tempest, Bartholomew, and Violet. For now at least, it would be her and he searching room to room. Violet would head to the third floor while Solomon would remain at the second. 

	Finished with his plan, Solomon once again became incorporeal and traveled through the door out into the hall. At the same time, he called upon the two shadows still on standby near August and also had them come to the keep. Should Asevor cast another purge, they would cease to be, but the more eyes within the keep the better. The quicker he could find the prince, the quicker he could evacuate him and return to aid his allies. As it stood, the battle quieted down, but Solomon doubted that meant the fight had ended. Though weak, he could still feel Bartholomew, and his fighting spirit was still burning.

	Speaking of the tempest Bartholomew, the purge spell had done a number on his already failing structural integrity. The flame upon his head diminished in luminosity, no longer burning white, but instead a cooler deep red in color. In no time, he was bent in half, collapsed to the ground, and shortly after used as a flail. As it was, he was not much use, but as he was caught in the vines, he reached out with his free hand and attempted to pull himself from Ragnar, should the redirect not free him. He was prepared for even if it meant losing the arm he was being swung by. Even without his legs and potentially missing an arm, Bartholomew would not give in, yet. If it was possible, he would swing himself using any remaining vines roots above and body slam the barbarian.