[h3]Jaelnec, Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, Nabi, Yanin, Jordan and Madara, Bor Manor, Borstown[/h3]
As everyone started filtering into the armory and short conversations were being had here and there, Freagon started marching straight through without caring, only to then slow his stride and glance toward Yanin and Jordan getting some iron weapons from one of the racks. Finally, when he was just a couple of short steps from reaching and opening the door that would lead into the hall, Freagon stopped entirely and turned around.
“You take one too, boy,” he ordered Jaelnec, who was trailing several meters behind him, only to slightly raise an eyebrow as he realized that the younger nightwalker's attention seemed to be less on him and more on Irah... and that this female true deigan was looking first at his sword, and then at him, before stating her desire to hear the story of his blade.
The grizzled old knight narrowed his eye at her and his jaws worked as if chewing on some imaginary thing in his mouth. He would have ignored her and just carried on walking, had he not decided to wait a moment anyway for his page to retrieve a larger iron implement. Not that he figured Jaelnec would need it; Freagon was confident that he could destroy any divine in the manor before they reached him, and even in the event that one did reach Jaelnec, the boy had a knife and bracers of mostly pure iron specifically for situations like this. But it was better to be safe than sorry.
Even waiting passively as he did in this moment, Freagon figured that he could easily just pretend to not understand Fermian and be entirely justified in ignoring her... but that could result in some annoying discussions later, when the others learned that he actually did speak Fermian. The girl did seem decently skilled with magic and seemed confident about her magical reserves. Her, the male deigan, Sir Yanin Glade... there was potential here. It was probably best to not needlessly antagonize any of them. Yet.
“[I]We will see,[/I]” the old nightwalker replied noncommittally in Fermian, making a mental note to prepare himself and decide exactly how much he was going to divulge to her. It was far from the first time anyone had asked him about Roct, of course – practically every true deigan he met seemed to feel entitled to an explanation as to why he, a nightwalker, owned such a thing – and normally he told them the barest minimum. But if he really was going to try to get along with this one, slightly more than minimum might be better.

[I]“I can feel it too,”[/I] Kinder reported in Irah's head after she had announced that something was off about her magic. [I]“I can still feel the angels inside, but it is as though something is obscuring my senses. Be careful, Deo'irah; I cannot tell where the angels are right now.”[/I]

Jaelnec had naturally assumed a defensive position to guard Irah as soon as they moved to enter the manor and only left her long enough to obey his master's command to retrieve an iron truncheon before hurrying back to her side. He would seem concerned at the signs of her seeming unwell, but also focused, alert and tense, setting aside business that did not seem urgent for as long as he sensed that there might be danger afoot.
For a moment he held the blunt instrument in his right hand as his only weapon, shifting it back and forth a little and turning it in his grip, feeling its weight and balance, then he switched it to his left hand before reaching his right one for the hilt at his left hip. He drew his own sword in a motion that was almost an exact replication of the one Freagon had brandished his weapon with, but unlike his master, the blade that emerged from his scabbard was nothing special. A steel blade of middling quality, its surface scuffed and its edge chipped here and there, well-sharpened and -maintained as much as one could on the road, but obviously worn and getting toward the end of its lifespan.

While everyone else were making their last preparations in anticipating of having to face down summoned divines, however, Lhirin merely had to cast [I]Magnetic Field[/I] to manipulate a host of iron needles and swung open the doors to the hall.
The barrage of needles struck the wraith's mostly-wooden body with a loud, rapid series of dull thuds and the sound of splintering wood, and a faint, ghostly voice cried out in agony as it seemed to stumble away, further into the room, only for both chairs to seemingly lose whatever semblance of cohesion they had with the table and clatter noisily to the ground. The table and candleholder was still moving, albeit obviously much slower and more awkwardly than a moment ago, but the chairs had been rendered inanimate by the injection of iron.

His eyes forward, locked on the weakened wraith in front of him, Lhirin stepped forth into the hall... only for his view of the wraith to abruptly become obscured by a mostly-transparent visage that filled his entire field of view the instant he stepped across the threshold. He would feel a warm, wet tightness envelop his head, cover his eyes and ears; suddenly, even though he stood on dry ground, Lhirin's entire head was submerged in water. The liquid instantly prevented him from breathing, only for the water pressure to swiftly increase, especially around his neck, further cutting off airflow, and then pulling up with enough strength to lift the dainty deigan's feet off the ground.
Sitting on the wall directly inside the hall and above the door Lhirin had just walked through, where it could not easily be seen from beyond the doorway, Lhirin would come face-to-face with the creature that had just ambushed him. It appeared as something that only vaguely resembled a creature in the first place, being mostly just an ever-shifting, shapeless blob of water aside from the one pseudopod that had extended to envelop his head and capture him. The only distinctive feature of it seemed to be a pair of yellowish-orange lights within the liquid, staring at him with glee.

The people behind Lhirin might see the tip of this water-pseudopod dart down from above and envelop Lhirin's head in one rapid movement, only for it to disappear upward along with Lhirin a second later with an audible squelching noise.