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Amidst the ruckus inside, argument had diverted attention away from the single elderly individual in the city hall. So hunched and slow, quiet and unobtrusive was he, that the man approached Sariel, Ekho, and Theow completely unnoticed. Only when he coughed a few times and a butler hurried to his side with a glass of water did their focus finally return to the situation at hand.

The mayor, presumably, was of such an old age that they might have figured him to be powered by the very necromantic machinery of Stitchenstein himself; how else was he standing? With a weak but genuine smile, he greeted the three that were present, head and arms shaking as he suddenly looked confused. In a soft, wheezing voice he began.

"There are... three of you? I heard there would be a fourth, no?" he asked. The mayor reached for the glass of water presented to him, and with some aid, took a small sip before exhaling with satisfaction. "I'll simply assume they are late, and you will brief him in my stead." Wetting his lips, he continued on, eyes closed under wrinkled bags and thick eyebrows. He hunched over a wooden cane shaped as a gnarled tree branch, clothed in ruffled and faded wear that looked as if it were layered over several other uniforms to keep warm.

"I'm glad we have received aid. Poor Fran has had her hands tied doing our dirty work for quite awhile now. She will surely appreciate some extra aid." The butler had since disappeared and arrived again with a wooden stool, placing it behind the mayor and urging him to sit. With a heavy sigh, he relieved himself from standing and spoke in much more strong voice. "As I'm sure the mission board has notified you, we under duress by the vile monster Stitchenstein. Or rather, his creations. We ask of you to help us in defending against the abominations until Stitchenstein inevitably leaves, for leave he will." The mayor coughed, sipped some more water, and continued, "There will be no need in venturing outside the town, but if it suits your work... so be it. We only wish for our people to be kept safe. You should find Mother Fran out by the Northern city gates. Do any of you... have any questions?"

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Unfortunately for Gaul, the jangling of bones and his coated appearance did not make for a pleasant approach. By the end of his question, the priestess had turned to find herself met with a skeletal visage; not exactly the thing she was hoping to be caught with her back turned towards. With speed quick enough to dodge the drizzles of rain falling, her sword found its way to Gaul's vacant neck. Being of the living dead, Gaul could sense a tingling in his bones at the very spot, testament to some sort of holy magic bound to its steel.

With a brief moment of consideration, however, Fran realized the necromancer was unlike any of the modified undead she had been fighting for days. He was simply a cloaked necromancer, a champion at that.

"Forgive me, I hazarded from your appearance..." she trailed off, "I presume you are the champions who have accepted our mission?" Casting a glance over his shoulder, it was clear Fran was searching for the rest of his crew, and finding none became a tad confused, or rather, disappointed.

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Ulysses outburst was met with a stare so neutral in understanding or consideration, that even with the doctor's featureless face, it was clear he comprehended little of Ulysses' words. He was a programmer, and not a psychologist, so trying to make sense of his intents were lost. The doctor, foolishly, neglected to consider he was actually that rampant and stupid. How could he have possibly accepted a mission such as this? At a loss for words, he moved on.

The doctor cast his overhead gaze upon Koemi, swinging his loose lab coat in a wide arc despite the short movement he underwent. He took very little time to answer, but seemed almost suddenly devoid of emotion as compared to before, as if his words were common knowledge and he were speaking to a computer itself. No doubt he was traumatized by the previous individual's behavior.

"We know of no hits on her, not that it would be something to be expected so earlier in her existence here in Agar Mythos. Nevertheless, there is always someone or something that wishes to hinder scientific progress in this world, or to otherwise hinder [i]our[/i] progress specifically. Certainly keep a lookout, but do not let it keep your nerves on end."

Upon Averus trying to placate Ulysses, it became clear to the doctor that the armored man truly did wish for destruction to occur at some point in this mission. It did not calm his nerves, and his darting glances between Averus and Ulysses reflected this. Averus's much more intelligible and relevant questions managed to soothe him, albeit slightly. The doctor's eyes kept themselves traced upon Ulysses as he responded.

"It is... a bit more complicated than that, I'm afraid. I will say that Delphia is possessing of emotions, subdued and difficult to bring about as they are. You will find that she learns quite quickly," his leer strengthened upon Ulysses as he continued, "so be careful what you offer her." Upon Ulysses persisting in his speech, the doctor could muster only a palm to his rounded face, revealing spindly, mechanical arms underneath his lab coat sleeves.

"I advise you hurry along," the doctor tried to remain respectful.