[center][h3]Esaka, the Tiered City[/h3]
[b]Setting:[/b] Drizzly Friday Morning
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (228/150) Level 11 Big Band (149/110)
Amaterasu’s [@DracoLunaris] Roland’s [@Archmage MC] Pit’s [@Yankee] Sakura & Juri’s [@Zoey Boey] Captain Falcon’s [@Double] Yayama’s [@Chevaleresse] Grima’s [@Goggy]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1616 (+3 -12) / 1010[/center]

Being a diner without any particular architectural style, Churning Butter had a pretty ordinary, flat concrete roof with a waist-high rim, dotted by air conditioner units and other functional fixtures. It looked pretty poor as a result, especially compared to nearby establishments with a much more Asian style, but the level surface would make for a half-decent impromptu battleground. Even if the rainwater was starting to pool into puddles here and there. For now, the drizzly remained light and pleasant, but after that power shower the other night Nadia could see that changing in an instant. Well, she didn’t plan to be up here a minute longer than she needed to. Until Beowulf joined her, though, she might as well warm up with some stretches.

The feral leaned forward, touching her toes a few times. She then bent over backward, leaning farther and farther until her midriff faced the sky and she could plant her palms on the rough surface behind her. Shifting her weight, she transitioned into a handstand, straightened her legs, and stretched them upward. Nadia willed her limbs to stretch beyond their limits, gritting her teeth as her muscle fibers extended, pushing her segments higher and higher. “Hnnnnnnng…nng!” After a moment they snapped back, and she separated them for an upside-down split. Again she stretched out her legs, twisting them until she could set her boots on the floor again, despite still being in a handstand. Then she released, uncoiling into a standing position.

From there, she twisted to either side a couple times, then began to pressurize her limbs and use jets of blood to extend them as far as she could before they snapped back. Whether she threw a spearfinger, knee, or thrust kick, her fibers could extend about fifteen feet at most. Nadia had an idea and launched both arms like grappling hooks to grab onto the rim of the diner’s roof, then backpedaled to try and stretch out her segments further. It didn’t take long for that to get painful, and given her natural pain resistance, she decided it’d be better to quit while she was ahead. From there she rolled her neck, then detached her head and began to bat it around like a soccer ball, using her knees and feet to keep it in the air. Once Nadia realized she was basically just playing around now, though, she popped her head back on with a sigh and found a spot to sit down. Facing the spot where Beowulf would come up, she adopted what she thought was a badass, brooding pose, her head bowed beneath her hood to keep the drizzle off her face.

Seconds after she got comfortable, the wrestler finally appeared. “Yo, there you are!” Beowulf had pulled up his own wolf fur hood, but like Nadia’s it didn’t cast enough of a shadow to hide his toothy grin. He waved and sauntered over as the feral sprang up. “So, what’s this proposition Annie’s got for me, huh?”

Nadia put her hands on her hips with a teasing smile. “Well, some buddies of mine were eyin’ your Tekken results so far, and they’re purr-etty impressed.” She began to circle the wrestler, her tail raised high and waving behind her. “We’ve got our sights set on dethronin’ all Four Kings, and you might just be the next guy to take a crack at Mr. Mishima. So we were thinkin’ it’s about time to help make that happen.”

“Oho, so Miss Kitty was a secret talent scout all along, eh?” Beowulf crossed his burly, hairy arms, his face full of confidence. “Well, you got a good nose, ‘cause you sure stumbled on some crazy talent!” He narrowed his eyes knowingly, as if he had Fortune all figured out. “Thing is, though, the ‘Wulf doesn’t forget his roots. If you’re trying to poach me for another dojo, you’re gonna have to make me an offer I can’t refuse!”

The feral feigned surprise. “[i]Poach[/i] you? Why, I never! In fact, I don’t even have another dojo!” Nadia held up empty hands as she shook her head. “Beo, buddy, you don’t have to give up on anyone or anything. Just think of us like a….uh, what’s the word. Sponsor! Yeah, we’ve got your back, that’s all! We can let you in on a couple juicy secrets, includin’ ways you can boost your fightin’ power even fur-ther.” She clasped her hands behind her back innocently. “All I need from you is a little…test. To purr-ove you got what it takes. Right here, right meow.”

“Oh yeah?” That prompted a big grin from Beowulf. “Alright, I smell what you’re cooking!” He cracked his knuckles, then his neck from side to side. “Whether it’s morning, noon, or night, the ‘Wulf is always ready to throw down!” He planted his foot and raised his hands, ready to fight.

Nadia, however, only raised her eyebrows. “Throw down? Wait, pawse!” She tapped a horizontal hand atop the fingers of a vertical straight hand in the universal gesture for [i]time out[/i]. “I think you misunderstand. What I have in mind is the true test for any fighter, or athlete, for that matter. An evaluation of the one thing that can make anyone a hero…cardio!”

In an instant Beowulf’s jaw dropped, and his stubbly face began to grow pale. “Cuh…cardio!?”

“Uh huh!” Nadia grinned smugly. “You and me are gonna have ourselves a parkour race through the streets of Esaka! A headlong sprint ‘til one of us drops!” She dropped into a runner’s stance. “You ready?”

The wrestler swallowed. “Uh…well, cardio isn’t really my thing. Us wrestlers, we’re all about strength trainin’. Can’t run away in the ring, after all! Haha…” He chuckled nervously as he patted his belly. “Plus, uh, I just ate, y’know! You’re not s’posed to exercise for, like, a whole half hour after eating!”

“You were ready to brawl a second ago!” Nadia argued, her expression playfully derisive. “To me, you just sound scared. What’s the matter, not man enough for a little run?”

Groaning, Beowulf looked away with his eyes screwed shut, then sighed. “Argh…no, no, I can do it! Nothin’s impossible for the ‘Wulf!” He shook over his shoulders and came over to stand beside Nadia, clumsily mimicking her stance. “Alright! Get ready to eat my dust!”

After a quick countdown, the two launched forward. They threw themselves from the roof of the diner and hit the sidewalk running. Nadia chose a random direction to sprint in, and Beowulf charged after her. Luckily it hadn’t occurred to the big dolt to ask her about the race’s endpoint, since she hadn’t thought that far ahead, but Nadia expected it wouldn’t matter. Rather than run at full speed, she slowed herself down just enough to stay one step ahead of Beowulf, her calico tail always waving just a few feet in front of him to spur him onward.

Things went about as Nadia expected. Within ten seconds, Beowulf was breathing hard. After twenty, he was huffing and puffing, his determined bull rush replaced by an ungainly jog. Even with the cool drizzle on his face, he was quickly turning red, sweat beading on his brow. He hadn’t been lying about the wrestlers’ training regimen; cardio exercise was the bane of strongmen everywhere. It took a lot of effort to get all that meat moving, after all. At the forty-second mark, Beowulf’s jog devolved into a drunken stagger, with one hand on his aching stomach and the other reaching out at Nadia’s back as the darkness began to close in. “Fuh…fuh…Fortune-!”

“What’s the matter, cardi-oaf?” Nadia called back over her shoulder. “Can’t keep pup?”

“Guuuh!” Beowulf dropped to his knees, then fell face-down in front of a bench on the sidewalk, his eyes practically swirls.

Rolling her own eyes, Nadia turned around and jogged toward him. “That was fast.” She came to a stop over the wrestler’s fallen form, her nonplussed gaze on a young [url=https://i.imgur.com/UJGhhKD.png]passer-by[/url] with wine-red hair, gawking at them from beneath his parasol as he walked nearby. “What? Does his sufferin’ a-mew-se you?” Once the kid silently moved on, Nadia crouched down and tapped her chest. A bright pink heart, especially radiant in the dull, rainy morning, popped out. “Here ya are, buddy. Somethin’ new to wrestle with: your own existence.”

The instant the heart touched him, Beowulf sprang to his feet so fast he accidentally headbutted Nadia on the way up, which bowled her over backward with a surprised yowl. “Whoa! I’m up! Second wind, ready for round two! Hell yeah!” He flexed, then looked down at the feral. “Oh, jeez, sorry Fortune. You okay?”

As Beowulf helped her up, Nadia massaged her nose ruefully. “Meowch, you got me good! I’ll be fine though. Nothing a little infinite regeneration can’t fix.” While recovering, she furrowed her brow and fixed a questioning gaze on Beowulf. Sure enough, his eyes were pitch-black, without a trace of sunset red…so why wasn’t he having an existential crisis? “What about you? Nothin’...goin’ on upstairs?” As she said it, Nadia began to have an epiphany.

“Uh, no?” Beowulf raised an eyebrow. “Should there be?”

Nadia shrugged. “Guess not, heehee!” She clapped a hand around his shoulder. “Well, congrats buddy, you passed with flyin’ colors. Welcome to the big leagues! Now buckle up, I’ll explain on the way to the Pools. We got a lotta ground to cover, and not much time.” The two got moving, discussing the Seekers’ mission in Esaka and what Beowulf could do to improve his chances while they got a move on toward their first matches of the day.

[hr]

While the Koopa Kids weren’t directly involved with the Seekers’ tournament mission in Esaka, they had plenty of stories to share about what they’d gotten up to during the team’s previous outing. Band’s knowledge about the Underground was sparse, aware of precious little beyond the region’s subterranean nature, as its name implied. Bowser Jr and Rika’s account of the place they called Pizza Tower amused him greatly. It hadn’t been all fun and games, of course, but just the idea of a building wholeheartedly dedicated to pizza -all the way down to the enemies- just tickled his funnybone.

In contrast, Band had mostly found himself in various cities so far. Sandstone desert city, dystopian megacity, snowy magic city, tiered tournament city, medieval town…they encompassed different cultures, sure, but at the end of the day it had been a lot of streets, sidewalks, cars, buildings, and people. The strangest place he’d been so far had probably been Nyakuza Metro, that totally cat-themed metropolis stuffed inside a gigantic pumpkin. When would the one-man band actually go somewhere completely surreal?

When their tale shifted toward Ash Lake, Band raised an eyebrow slightly as he put his critical thinking skills to good use. “Now, I know I wasn’t there, but maybe…those weapons belonged to that Asgore guy you mentioned?” Primrose seemed to think the same, although her mention of ‘memorials’ lent extra weight to the weapons’ importance than mere possession. Regardless, P sounded like a real piece of work, as well. More interesting, of course, were the facts that the Flame Clocks seemed downright invincible, that certain symbols betrayed key cycle functionality, and that the Seekers’ first clues about this world’s true nature came from this Asgore. He definitely sounded like someone Band would want to meet, if not interrogate. No offense to these kids or their dad, but if a detective with actual information-gathering skills had been on the case back then, the Seekers might have left Ash Lake with a lot more intel than they did.

A city where it always rained sounded pretty abysmal to Big Band. Almost as bad as the Consuls’ ability to wantonly manipulate the gleaming masses. The cyborg was fully aware of just how precarious the team’s position in Esaka really was, and he wasn’t the least bit happy about it. The fact that anyone and everyone around them, from random civilians to precious friends like Ileum and Stanley, could be turned against them at the drop of a hat, meant the Seekers were in constant and extreme danger. They could not afford to get any Consul’s attention whatsoever, which made that accidental meeting with Consul B yesterday that much more of a disaster. Even if she did essentially tell Harry that people like him were beneath her notice, that could change the moment they made themselves any kind of threat.

After a little more thinking, and slapping Therion’s hand away from his plate, Band came to a decision. “The kid’s right. As long as Moebius rules Esaka, we could get royally screwed over any day now. It’s just too big a risk to ignore and hope for the best. Much as I hate to say it, we gotta put together some kind of plan.” He lowered his voice as he looked around furtively. “...To take that Consul out.”

This wasn’t the time or the place to assemble such a plan, however, not with many teammates missing and more tournament matches looming. Instead, Band ruminated on what Primrose had gleaned from the UN the night before. Better access to medical help would be valuable indeed in Esaka, and though Primrose described the process of ‘key-tuning’ chiefly through metaphor, that sounded like it could be useful too. Band nodded. “Happy to have any allies in this place, even if Moebius could turn ‘em against us, so I’m game. We just gotta be sure not to get too close.”

As if on cue, a bright blue magic circle appeared next to Primrose’s head. As she’d learned last night, this was a manifestation of the ‘phone magic’ that she learned from Kum Haehyun last night. For some of the Seekers here -namely Big Band and Roland- this was actually something they’d seen before thanks to one Goldlewis Dickinson, who’d made ample use of this everyday spell in both Midgar and Al Mamoon, the latter of which had been where the Secretary of Absolute Defense briefly crossed paths with Big Band. When Primrose took the call, it was none other than her newest mentor that greeted her.

“This is Haehyun,” said the deep, gravelly voice of Jonryoku. “We have a new mission for your cohort, should you choose to accept it. For some time now, an organization based in the Middle Tier, the Mugen Group, has been attempting to organize an alternative, more lighthearted sporting event to Esaka’s tournament series. The Power Stone Games. Prioritizing casual fun, they have not enjoyed much success, but the UN has decided to back them. Our main push for the Games starts this morning, and the Four Kings -suspicious of our involvement- will have people watching. Making it the perfect diversion. If you can field some people to participate, it will lend greater credence to the Power Stone Games and improve our diversion even further.”

Band eyed Primrose, Therion, and the Koopa Kids immediately. Their lack of involvement with the tournaments made them the ideal candidates, though Seekers with lighter schedules like Yayama might be able to get involved too. Unfortunately, his schedule was anything but light, and he was running out of time. Band carefully pushed his chairs back from the table and stood up. “I gotta get goin’ if I’m gonna make my first match. Good luck out there, y’all.”

With a tip of his hat, the detective was on his way. A quick visit to a bulletin board informed him that his first match of today would be against one Potemkin. [i]Alright, let’s do this.[/i] He set his sights on the nearest lift and began his trip to the Pools.

[hr]

Those who accepted the UN’s mission to participate in the Power Stone Games would eventually find their way to what looked like a theme park on the Middle Tier’s east side. The colorful complex included a [url=https://s3.amazonaws.com/retronauts-www/assets/editorial/2019/02/gfs-13479-2-2-mid.jpg]plaza[/url] overlooking the Pools, a [url=https://origin.giantbomb.com/a/uploads/original/1/14036/563111-57.png]miniature desert[/url], a [url=https://static.fanbyte.com/uploads/2019/07/powerstone5-1024x576.jpg]jungle temple[/url], and [url=https://www.gamerevolution.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/07/power-stone.jpg]opposing submarines[/url], among others. Some citizens had already begun to gather by the time the Seekers arrived, drawn by the prospect of something new and entertaining. For such a big-time affair, though, the Mugen Group only seemed to have a [url=https://i.imgur.com/cPvqMPl.png]dozen participants[/url] lined up, even if they did hail from all walks of life. With a little time left before the games got started, the Seekers had a little time to walk around the Power Stone Park, meet the people involved, and maybe even learn what exactly they needed to do.

[center][h3]The Midnight Walk - Winterhold College[/h3]
[b]Setting:[/b] Labyrinthine Friday Morning
Lvl 10 Sandalphon (7/100) Level 7 Heismay (47/70)
Edward’s [@DracoLunaris] Blazermate & Sectonia’s [@Archmage MC] Ace Cadet’s [@Yankee] Roxas & Ganondorf’s [@Double] Ramattra and Tenna’s [@XoXKieroBombXoX] Mokou’s [@Goggy]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1160 / 869[/center]

All things considered, this wasn’t exactly the most tense shootout Sandalphon had experienced. Between the plentiful cover on the Grand Archives’ second story and the travel time of the Crystal Stage’s magic arrows, relative safety wasn’t hard to come by. The real problem was actually making progress on her goal of getting out of here. She could only hide behind the bookshelves, overturned tables, and piles of ruined books if she could scramble across the open spaces that separated them, after all, and the Petrification Disease made any kind of rapid movement painfully difficult. Plus, there were still handfuls of wax-headed scholars here and there, whether roving around or huddled together. While her experiment earlier had confirmed that they’d ignore her at first thanks to her own dunk in the wax pool, they could still get in her way, and she didn’t want to push her luck.

Plus, the Crystal Sage had an infuriating tendency to teleport all around the third story of the Archives. Combine that with its huge hat and flowing garments that made it hard to get a bead on its actual body, and counter-sniping was a real challenge, even for a marksman of Sandalphon’s caliber. Plus, with such a height disadvantage she couldn’t use her other abilities like Frost Lock or Cerulean Mirage. She had no choice but to do this the old-fashioned way: lay down suppressive fire, stagger across the open area, and hunker down, over and over and over again as she endeavored to reach the next flight of stairs.

It was a grueling task, but simple enough that the archangel could press forward bit by bit, bearing the pain of ducking into cover in silence. Sometimes a crystal soul arrow would crash against the bookshelf mere inches from her body, and more than one the sudden emergence of ghostly, clawing hands from a cursed tome elicited a gasp of surprise. It felt like hours, but after a few minutes, Sandalphon finally neared the base of the staircase along the Grand Archives’ western wall. The climb would hurt, but once she reached the top, she and her nemesis would be on an even playing field at last.

Of course, the second she set foot on the bottom step was when the Crystal Sage showed its face. In a burst of billowing black cloth the sorcerer seemingly unfurled from the ground, its crystal ball aglow between shriveled, clawed hands. Sandalphon had only a split second to admire the sheer breadth of the Sage’s big hat as she took aim. The magic ray from her hexagun slammed into the Sage’s shoulder, a direct hit but not enough to put it down. Odds were that this undead sorcerer resisted magic, the archangel guessed. Then she turned around to hightail it back to her previous hiding place, only for purple crystals five feet in height to spring from the ground in front of her, fast and strong enough that one knocked her rifle from her nerveless grasp.

Sandalphon’s pupil flashed between symbols as she considered her options, her mind much faster than her body. As the purple light of a crystal arrow behind her reflected off the crystals in front, though, she finally got moving. She maneuvered around a freshly-grown spire, hiding behind it just in time as the soul arrow struck the crystal instead and shattered it like glass. Thinking quickly, Sandalphon extended her left hand toward her gun as she stepped toward her next shelter. Her ergo strings stretched through the air and wound around the weapon, but the impact of another soul arrow inches away from the archangel’s head ruined her focus and the ergo strings faded. Her one-eyed gaze flickered toward the Crystal Sage as it prepared to cast again. This was bad.

A blossom of flame struck the sorcerer from behind, igniting its hat and robes. Sandalphon’s eyebrow rose as her pupil became an exclamation mark–a surprise assist? Whatever it was, the Crystal Sage was having none of it. Rather than expose itself to attack from either party, it fled the pincer maneuver by teleporting away. A moment later, the culprit showed herself: the periwinkle cat from before, with just a blob of wax on her head. Somehow, it didn’t surprise Sandalphon that a feline could cast magic. Unless she could do a lot more than throw fireballs, however, she’d be in just as much danger from the Crystal Sage as Sandalphon herself. The archangel grabbed her rifle and hurried up the stairs as fast as her aching body could take her.

When she reached the top, she found that the cat had retreated somewhat, clearly wary of Sandalphon even if she didn't consider the ailing archangel an enemy. Nevertheless, Sandalphon attempted to communicate, hoping her tone would convey her good intentions even if her words fell short. “My thanks for your assistance,” she said, her voice soothing. “You’re a very good kitty. With evident skill in the arcane arts.”

Just when she seemed to be getting somewhere, though, the Crystal Sage made its move. Again it warped in, unfurling from the floor itself, and this time it wasn’t alone. A Crystal Sage appeared on either side of the Sandalphon, one blocking the exit door and another the stairs she’d just climbed. Was this an illusion of some kind, or were there really two of them? No time to make sure. As Lucy began to concentrate, the archangel summoned her strikers Annabella and Hammering. The hammer-wielding redhead charged at one for a mighty swing, while the black-haired sniper lobbed a canister at the other. Sandalphon took aim and fired to shoot the canister out of the sky, detonating it in one Crystal Sage’s face.

As it reeled, she turned to see the other get clobbered by Hammering, then hurled a Frost Lock to freeze the Sage solid. From there, a few shots plugged into its torso sent it sliding back until it tumbled down the stairs. It quickly racked up so much damage that when it thawed, it basically exploded.

Finally, the other Sage recovered just in time for Lucy’s fireblast to add insult to injury. Nevertheless, it raised its radiant blue crystal ball to fire a soul arrow, only for the death of the true Crystal Sorcerer to cause the illusion to fade into nothingness.

Once her scans convinced her the threat had been dealt with, Sandalphon put away her hexagun. When she knelt to collect the Crystal Sage’s spirit, Lucy rubbed up against her boot affectionately. “Good kitty,” the archangel repeated. Then she rose, her stiff and gritty joints afire, and made for the double doors. Freedom at last, at least from the Grand Archives. With a little help from Lucy, she pushed them open to reveal the Cursed Armory, positively glittering with the loot of a hundred worlds. She took one look around at the smorgasbord of enchanted equipment, pursed her lips, and stepped inside with Lucy at her heels.

[hr]

Ace and Heismay’s long climb back to the top of the cistern wasn’t much fun, but at least the shadows seemed to have run out of horrors to throw the pair’s way for now. With the ritualistic altars at the bottom of the shanty town destroyed, and their twisted creator dealt with, the damp air in here felt a little less heavy and haunted. With the eugief’s natural agility and the hunter’s boundless energy (not to mention his slinger) they made relatively short work of what would have otherwise been an arduous and treacherous ascent, falling afoul of only a few rotten planks as they retraced their steps up the waterlogged towers.

Heismay only made two brief stops. First, he paused at the threshold of the house where he and Ace encountered that painted monstrosity. Although slimy and abhorrent as most of the wretches down here, Toxic Fred fit this place less and less the more Heismay thought about it. When he peeked inside, he found the colorful lumpy splotch they’d reduced Fred to exactly where they left it, without any signs of life or clues as to what it might have been. Yet, Heismay still felt as if he was missing something. A lingering unease perturbed him, as if the job wasn’t quite done. What exactly had slipped his mind…?

Something worse than nebulous doubts awaited the two once they crossed the broken bridge caused by their first run-in with the Forgotten. When Heismay checked in on Elowen’s hovel, an uneasy feeling in his gut borne of the inhuman noises he heard from within, he found a [url=https://remnant2.wiki.gg/images/Cursed_Wretch.jpg?eae92c=&format=original]cursed wretch[/url] instead, moaning as she clawed at what must have been her head. A potent mix of red and purple power eked from her disfigured form. The Seekers had a brief window in which to act before the aberration noticed them, and though Heismay disdained assassin work, his skillset made him suitable for the task. He stalked forward, quiet as the grave, and put the sunken thing out of her misery with a single well-placed stroke.

Upon exiting the hut, he stowed his blade with a sigh. “Poor woman. I suppose the ‘blackness’ caught up with her? We would do well to guard ourselves against any traces of corruption.” He didn’t feel any different, personally, but malignant forces could be insidious. There was no telling how the pair’s brush with extreme occultism had scarred them. Heismay crushed Elowen’s spirit (which depicted the creature she had become) just to make sure, which rewarded him with an [url=https://remnant2.wiki.gg/images/Guts.png?7f0973=&format=original
]odd artifact[/url] that he carefully slipped into his bag. Maybe someone else would know what to make of it.

[center][hider=Item Obtained][b][url=https://remnant2.wiki.gg/images/Guts.png?7f0973=&format=original]Guts[/url][/b]
A Mutator that can be affixed to a melee weapon to increase its critical chance. Refinement in the hands of a skilled craftsman can increase this bonus, and at ten levels of refinement, the Mutator also boosts critical damage according to the wielder’s own recoverable life[/hider][/center]

Once they reached the top, the Seekers approached a set of double doors. Heismay couldn’t remember if this had been the doorway he and Ace came through, or the one opposite, but in the end it didn’t really matter. The two gathered their strength and shoved open the doors together.

[center][b]School of Mensis[/b]
[img]https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/4fa3a912a287.png[/img][/center]

As one might have expected, if not hoped, Winterhold College had plenty more horrors in store. Before the two lay a single long, gloomy room, shaped not unlike a massive coffin, with auditorium-style rows of seats arranged along the walls. In every chair slumped a naked, desiccated corpse with a tall, octagonal cage upon its head and a small stick in its hand, each tipped with a cluster of bristles on one side. A handful of oil lamps and candelabras provided just enough illumination for Heismay to see much more of the ghastly, fleshless faces than he wanted to. At the far end of the room, a solitary cadaver sat in a position of prominence, bearing scholarly robes and a much taller cage. This room was dry compared to the Forgotten Commune, at least, but its resemblance to a communal tomb left Heismay no more at ease than the curse-rotted shantytown.

This chamber did have one familiar element, though. A [url=https://i.imgur.com/InSeLVy.png]large hellhound[/url] lay curled up on the floor, its flame pleasantly warm in the drafty tomb. Its saddle featured one of the many weapons belonging to Edward Portsmith, although there was no sign of the Dreadnought himself. When the Seekers entered, the hellhound raised its head, its burning sockets searching for its master. “Oh,” Heismay remarked. “Were Portsmith’s beasts scattered throughout Winterhold, as well?”

The hellhound offered no response, so Heismay gave the room another look. At first glance it seemed like a dead end, but if the Commune was any indicator, who knew what secrets this place might be hiding?