A Hunting We Shall Go {Stare, Closed}

Nevin followed Stare's outstretched hand as she gestured into the darkness - her vision truly was remarkable, he knew that there was a turn somewhere in this gloom, but there was no way he would have been able to pinpoint it without basically running his hand along the wall until he found it. As the two of them walked down the corridor her studied her from the corner of his eye, making sure she was on the side that wasn't currently swollen up and throbbing in discomfort. She didn't seem to care about what he had done to the guard - had stared at the body with a slight bit of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes before moving onwards, giving the cooling corpse no comment. Nevin wished for a moment that they had the time for him to pull an essence of vitality from one of the two bodies that they had left behind, but that thought vanished almost as soon as it came into his head - he would not be working blood magic on blood from a sentient, unless it was donated as Stare's had been. That way led the end goal of the cult, and he was not about to advance their goals by doing what they had wanted him to do.

Then they reached the corner and she motioned for him to stop, peering around the corner carefully as she did so. Nevin knew what she was seeing - the stairs that he had been dragged down. It wasn't far past them to the next corridor, the one where the man who inspected him and had recognized him as the hunter's target had his office. The blood mage gritted his teeth, flexing his wrist slightly as he readied the threads of red that were currently coiled around his arm under his sleeve. Soft steps carried him past her, one finger pressed against his lips as he padded quietly up the stairs - not as smoothly as she would have been able to do in most circumstances, but right now his legs were uninjured, and if someone came out onto the stairs when they were ascending them being able to move with a sudden burst of speed may prove vital.

So up he went, moving as silently as he could, gripping the club in his hand as he moved along the stairs. He reached the corner and paused, twisting his head around the corner to peer around it with his good eye. The stairs continued upwards, the light growing brighter as they reached the area of the building that was normally occupied, more torches placed along the walls. They'd lose what element of stealth they'd had down in this corridor - but they were out of the cell block now - surprise would still be on their side, if they could get rid of any patrolling individuals before they raised the alarm. Nevin twisted his wrist in a gesture to follow and slid around the corner, his eyes probing the hallway beyond to see if there was anyone currently walking down it.

It was... easy for him to see where the man's office was. A normal person might have missed it - but Nevin couldn't as his magic sang to him - his blood left a trail behind him from the cuts, and the largest amount was singing to him from further down the hall. It wasn't the room itself, but the choir on his skin could guide the blood mage back along the route his blood had marked. But Nevin saw something that made him freeze - sitting in a chair, either half or fully asleep, was a guard sitting in front of an unmarked doorway. The odd thing was, the doorway had a large iron lock sitting on it, and the dozing guard had a key for it hanging off his belt. There were a few things that could be in the room - their gear perhaps, or another prisoner maybe? Or just a treasury for this band of bounty hunters? Nevin waited for his friend to catch up and whispered to her.

"The room I was examined in is further down this hall. Should we investigate that locked door or head there? I don't see the way out yet unfortunately." His words were spoken in a hushed tone as kept one eye on the guard to make sure they hadn't been heard.

Stare took a long moment to peer around the corner with one eye. For a while she fixed it upon the sleeping guard, watching the rise and fall of his chest. If Nevin was watching closely he would see the glint in her eye die as she shifted to the aura plane in which she saw the souls and energies of the people of the world. In the sleeping guard she saw a cerulean type of halo surrounding his body, marking him out as a neutrally opinionated man, but with a rebellious streak, and a steady simple grey energy flowing from one chakra to the next. The flow was free and gentle, with no real blockage in any spaces, and seemed to just generate as energy does - naturally, without any hindrances or otherworldly forces. That meant he was unmagical and thus likely unassuming, and his steady flow meant it really was just asleep. A normal, dreamless sleep.

Turning her eye slightly she focused next on the door, switching into her sight that allowed the view of heat signatures. Though there was a great hunk of wood as a door in the way, blocking any direct light, there was still a grill set in it. And through that grill there were no recongisable pulsing red or white forms, not like the sleeping man. Not that Stare could see in any way.

"He's not magical," was her whispered conclusion, sneaking back around the corner to stand with her friend and ally. And current joint escapee. "He is very asleep it seems too."

Gripping the hold tighter on her dagger she gestured down the corridor.

"You go ahead and scout maybe. I can easily take care of him. The room with the lock seems to have no people in it."

She looked at Nevin for a moment longer, then grunted, not waiting for a reply. Picking up her feet she suddenly slid out into full view of the corridor and immediately set to limp over the man. Carefully she trod, eager to set each claw down with the lightest of clicks only. But it seemed the man was deep asleep anyway. For she did not disturb him in the few paces it took to cross over to him. Bending down like a grim reaper she paused before shoving a hand over his mouth and jerking back his head. Suddenly and surprised he awoke, and began to struggle - but his cries were muffled and her hand ... quick was her blood knife. Smoothly and practised was her cut, and she sliced his neck open without any qualms, as easily as she would cut bread.

"That's that done," she whispered to herself, wiping the blade on her ragged clothes. Bending down she swiped the keys from the man's belt and looked at them. Now they had both the prison keys and this set - hopefully it would be enough to open every door here.

Without looking once at Nevin, she tried to ignore the passion racing in her heart after ending a life. Gundred and the one in the corridor below - they really had been Nevin's handiwork, not hers. This one though, was undeniably on her consequence, and it made her pulse quicken with excitement. Such a power it was to take away a life. So beautiful and so consequential in the grand scheme of the world. With one swipe of her hand she had stolen the man's future, as easily as Vitruvion took so many others ... Then helped so many others. The power writhing within her to potentially kill people was astounding, and incredible, and she felt it rise in her like a hunger that could not be satiated. Certainly it was something she had only experienced in recent months, as the regard for her master had grown, and a small understanding for why he was the way he was. But it was not something she truly wanted. And the conflict within her she was sure could be seen in her eyes, hence her turning her back to Nevin and heading straight for the door near them.

It took her two tries of two keys to find the right one. As she did she peered into the room through the grill to see various boxes and crates along with a rack at the back. Unlocking the door easily she swung it open and marched in, thankful to see no people hiding behind the doorway. Pausing, she scanned the room once before noticing a rather ornate set of chainmail hanging at the back, along with a strangely formed helmet. One that looked disgustingly like a plague doctor's mask.

A grunt came from between her beak edges and she grabbed her armour before starting searching for her weapons. A scuffle behind her showed that Nevin was quietly coming further down the corridor, wordless and as active as she. He peered into the room a little, and she turned her head to look at him once before going back to her searching. And she left him to decide what was his from this place.

After a couple of boxes she found her two twin daggers, attached to their belt. Shoving this around her waist, after pulling on her chainmail she looked ready at least for the next fight - but on still she looked. And searched. Her noises grew louder and her grunts of dismay became solemnly echoed, as she cursed her leg and cursed herself and cursed everything. But she could not find it. At all.

Her cuff. It was not anywhere in the room.

Vitruvion, she concluded, was going to be so very mad.

Nevin had watched, silently, as Stare slipped up to the man, her feet making soft clicks on the stonework as she moved. He had thought, for a moment, about stopping her, about ending this one himself when she said he was asleep, but had decided not to - she would likely need some form of vengeance on these men for capturing her, and hurting her while she was their prisoner. So he watched, his eyes not flinching away, as she yanked the guard's head back and dragged the blood dagger across his skin, the sharp 'edge' slicing through flesh and muscle. The man struggled for only a moment before slumping, any screams he might have made stifled by her clawed hand, and light faded from his eyes.

Nevin walked over to her, his eyes scanning the corridors quickly, watching for anyone else who might be approaching. So far the corridor seemed quiet though - no one had heard the muted momentary struggle. That was the third of these bounty hunters that had fallen to the two of them. Even if they got rid of no one else on the way out, this would be a nasty blow to the group. But Nevin did not think they would be so lucky as to meet no one else. No, this place would probably stink of carcasses by the time they were done here, and the blood mage honestly could not bring himself to care about it. His attention was brought back to his friend when she managed to get into the room, moving quickly inside.

He began to follow after - freezing a moment when he thought he heard footsteps coming from further down the hall in the opposite direction. The man cursed and looked around quickly - then realized that the body would give them away even if nothing else did. The club was shoved into his belt and he grabbed the corpse off of the chair, dragging it into the storage room that Stare had disappeared into. Inside was a large room, filled with boxes and crates of differing sizes. Nevin shoved the body behind the door, ignoring the blood trail for now - nothing they could do about it as things stood. With the carcass temporarily situated, Nevin looked around for Stare, not seeing her at first - or rather not realizing that he had seen her. He almost didn't recognize her at first, as she had found her armor and weapons, though he did recognize those daggers on her belt.

Their stuff was here! With that realization burning in the back of his mind, Nevin moved quickly, scanning the boxes. His crossbow, staff - they were in a box, underneath which was folded up his cloak. He dragged those items out of the box they were in quickly, then let out a mild curse under his breath when he realized that they were not there - so he searched another, and another, noticing that Avis was also frantically looking for something. But while her search came up empty, one hand splaying against her leg in pain, Nevin's turned up a result - stored in a box that he had to pry open was his alchemical goods. And tucked into the very bottom of the pouch, hidden away - three crimson, glowing vials. Nevin had to bite back a cry of victory as he sorted through the bottles, and pulled up one in particular. Swift footsteps carried him over to the cursing Stare, and he handed the bottle over to her.

"Take this. It should help you recover a bit from what these bastards did to you. I'm sorry - it will taste like blood." He didn't have more time to explain though - or ask why she was so concerned. Outside of the door, Nevin could hear a voice, no two voices - and they did not sound pleased that the guard was missing. He cursed and rushed back to grab his crossbow - and did not have the time to find the bolts that were currently missing. Instead he was forced to blood-craft a bolt out of the wound on his palm, and he nocked it into the string, prepping the weapon and aiming it at the door. "Drink that quickly. I'll buy you a little time. Just don't forget about me there, alright?" He shot her a distorted grin as he moved towards the door.

A figure turned into the open doorway - and for a second the mage cursed himself for forgetting to close that behind him - and Nevin pulled the trigger before the man could react. There was a soft twang as the cord snapped forward, propelling the bolt forged from blood through the air and into the man. Unfortunately, this man was more on guard than the last few that they had dealt with, and managed to dodge to one side, keeping the bolt from hitting him dead in the center of his torso. But as he was still in the doorway - and there was someone else outside - he couldn't move far enough to completely avoid the blood-bolt, and it buried itself up to the 'fletching' in his shoulder. The guard let out a cry, and the second person in the hall did as well, and he raised his weapon to charge at Nevin, who he thought was now defenseless.

Nevin threw his crossbow into the man's face, disorienting him as he had not expected a move like that. This let Nevin drop his shoulder down and body check the man, forcing him out from the doorway and into the hall. The man was in half armor, wearing leather gear, so when his back smashed against the wall under the scrawny mage's weight, he was stunned and a bit out of breath. Nevin followed this up by grabbing the guard's face with his left hand - and the threads that had been hiding up his sleeve snaked out through the hole in his glove, sliding inside of his mouth and gouging up the inside of his throat. The blood mage collapsed with the man, following him to the floor as his hungry threads feasted inside of the man, spilling blood straight into the neck. He was interrupted though, by a heavy foot that smashed into his side and sent the alchemist tumbling away, red tendrils spewing from his palm. He felt and heard bones at least crack if not break under the kick, and he looked up at the man who had kicked him.

"Fuck, you really are a freak, aren't you? What, you actually kill the little bird bitch? Damn, there goes my cut of her pay." Nevin recognized that voice now, staring at the man who was holding a sword in his face. This was the bastard that had cold-cocked him and brought him here - Sandor. "Guess I'll have to go see what all the fuss was about her. Shame, I prefer them living but oh well." Oh, oh no he was not implying what Nevin thought he was. The icy rage that Nevin had been bottling up burst forth into a white hot rage, even as Sandor tensed his muscles. He stabbed downwards, intent on ending Nevin - who was rolling out of the way, ignoring the wave of pain from his ribs. The threads in his hand wove back together into a whip, which he wrapped around one of Sandor's legs, yanking on it roughly to knock the man off balance.

To his credit, even as he fell to one knee, Sandor reacted quickly, swinging his sword around and slicing through the whip of blood-red threads that had snagged him. The motion looked smooth, almost like he had anticipated it - but he hadn't, from the way he was holding one hand against his leg where the whip had shorn through his pants and begun to eat away at his skin, even in the few seconds of contact. Nevin felt as if a limb had been cut - more than just hair being cut away, losing the threads hurt, almost like he had lost fingers or toes. He had known that the threads reacted to his will, but he had never thought - had never wanted to think - that they were anything more than lines on his skin, merely living on his flesh. This proved to him though, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the threads were actually a part of his body, and he would have to take more care with them in the future. But the future was not now - now, he lunged for Sandor, slapping the torn edge of his whip against the hand that held the hilt of his sword. Sandor let out a bellow of pain and punched Nevin in the side, trying to force him away - but the furious blood mage simply took the hit, trading it for lashing across Sandor's eyes with the mutilated end of his own weapon. The hungry threads, now ravenous, ripped away at everything they touched, leaving a bloody, gouged trail through Sandor's face - and irreparably damaging his eyes.

This was the end for him - now completely sightless, bleeding profusely, Sandor could not protect himself from the blow that ended his life. Nevin had let the threads actually retreat this time, returning to their home beneath his skin, and dragged the club from his belt. He gripped the wooden weapon in both hands, side-stepping several half-hearted swings as the bounty hunter tried to keep his impending demise at bay, and brought it up - and then down, hard. The wood met the man's skull, and both gave way with a sickening crunch and a loud snap. Sandor remained kneeling for a minute before collapsing to the ground. Nevin followed not long after, drained from the burst of rage and exertion of fighting for his life.

Even as she heard the twang, and the thud of a bolt hitting ... something, either flesh or wood. It did not matter to her. Blood or splinters might fly and she would still be suffering the same panic. For no matter how many people might die around her, no matter how many bodies may be stored in this small hole, she was concentrating. And her frustration was growing.

"Just where the fuck is it?" she yelled.

The crates and boxes in the room were all overturned. Some were broekn in her fury, their halves scattered to either side of the room. Broken bits of wood, shards and random nails were sticking up in places that really were not safe for anyone. Not even a prison where torture was likely.

Not even a place like the Hollow.

As Stare heard the shouts of a man outside, that was definitely older than Nevin, she remembered her friend suddenly. Pausing whilst holding the current box she was smashing to pieces she looked down at the vial in her hand. Nevin had said something about healing. Lifting the vial up slightly she saw the swirl of crimson and suddenly what he said came to her. Before she had not really been listening - after all who would when one of the items vital to their future happiness wsas missing and possibly, or rather should be in this room?

Red liquid meant blood, and from Nevin that meant useful. He had mentioned healing, and she trusted the man, thus she pulled the vial to her face and plucked out the stopped with a careful tug of her beak. Then, as the bedlam continued outside and words such as, "you are a freak," and, "I prefer them living," came around the edge of the door. Pausing, she seemed to grasp something of reason again, and she threw the contents of the vial down into her throat. As the iron and copper tasting liquid slid smoothly down her throat she glanced back at the room around her, with the remains of the room around her. All she saw was a shattered place, with a throat-cut body lying on the floor, the cobbles slowly becoming drowned in blood. On her body was her chainmail, around her waist were her dagggers and waiting to the side, back on the hook where she had rehung it was her helmet. Jaw tight and meaningful understanding coming to her she began to realise the futility of her mission.

Honestly, she had been through every crate in this room. Twice at least. She had found various other times - rusted daggers and food supplies - as well as a chestpiece armour that seemed to be made from a deep red drakescale. It was around the correct size for Nevin, but perhaps he had not seen it when he had come in first. Certainly it was his colour, and certainly it far too elaborate for any of these guards, who seemed content in their leather hide. Grabbing it and her helmet mask she quickly tied the two of them onto her belt, and then made certain to also collect the keys. Twisting around she placed her back to her irrational mind determined to search for something that was not there and took up her two daggers. Marching out into the corridor she caught the last descent of Sandor the guard. Blinking, she nodded to Nevin who seemed to be stunned, standing there over his third body, blood slowly dripping from the club in his hand.

"You kill well," she said quietly, as she strode over, her eyes glancing down the their most recent corpse.

Then she turned again, her heart still racing and part of her still screaming for her to go back to the store room and look for the cuff. Vitruvion will be mad, it cried.

Forcing herself onwards she gripped her daggers tighter, eyes growing darker as she percieved the rest of the corridor before them. It was wider than the one below. Perhaps eight feet across and with a couple more doors went off from the sides further down. At the end of the corridor was an archway, which was bi-sected by a perpendicular corridor, routes going left and right. The sets of keys that they had would go far, it was to be sure. But what did wait for them next was going to be difficult. A mage would await them certainly, though he had not come yet. More guards was definitely possible, however they had not come with the commotion so far. Going over to the closest door that was set to the side she peered in through the small grill - for it was a mirror to the one behind. Within she saw an empty room, save for a low bed to the back, and a small trunk on the floor. A candlestick on a table.

"Bedroom," she said, back to Nevin. "No one is in it, and I would wager the next one is the same. Onwards," she suggested, raising a dagger and pointing to the end of the corridor.

Nevin forced himself back to his feet, body throbbing, and looked to Stare, who still seemed distracted and nervous, though she did seem to be in much better condition. She'd probably had time to drink the healing potion, then. Then he noticed as she walked away that there was anothet piece of armor hanging from the back of her belt.

"Collecting some spoils?" His voice came out more strained than he intended for it to, but he thought it was understandable. He looked down at Sandor, then dropped the shattered remains of the club he had used, and scooped up the sword. While he wasn't an expert swordsman, he knew the very basics - the pointy end went in the enemy. It would have to serve him now - his staff was not here, probably discarded by these bastards when they'd captured him.

"Yes, the man who actually identified me was further down the corridor. Should be just one more door, then a t-intersection. I think we need to go left there to reach the chambers he was in, but I'll know for sure when we get closer." That said he began moving at as fast a pace as he could - the sounds of combat would have alerted anyone near by, far more than his footsteps would. He was getting mildly nervous - the mage would undoubtedly be near the man in charge of these hunters, if they weren't in fact the same person as Nevin was beginning to suspect.

The archway at the end of the hall did in fact lead into a t-shaped intersection, with paths leading off to the left and right. Nevin closed his eyes and tried to focus, to see if his magic still sung to him of the blood he had left behind when struck - but there was no unearthly choirs singing, apparently this close to the boss's room the bounty hunters did actually bother cleaning up a little. There were the faintest of notes coming from directly under his feet in the archway, and he thought the spackled blood led left but he could not be sure. He frowned and looked down the corridor, trying to see if one door stood out to his eyes - back tracking would increase the chances of reinforcements coming for them.

Stare frowned as he walked past, only then moving as she was away from the bedroom for one of the lackey's they had ended the life of.

"Collecting?" she asked. "No, I am not ..."

Then she glanced down at her belt, frowning. Tucked into the leather cords was the drakescale chestpiece that she assumed was his. Brow lowering over her eyes it took her a moment in idiocy to realise what he was saying exactly. That he did not recognise the corslet. That in fact the keep red thing of high protection did not in fact belong to him, despite the fact it very likely did not belong to any of the guards here. Perhaps the mage? No, surely he would keep his armour with him, not place it in the bottom of a crate in a storeroom full of prisoner's belongings. And the master of this jail, if it was different to the likely mage - the same applied to himself. So that meant that the rich, hide breastplate had once been another prisoner's here. One who had perhaps died, and even aided in the breaking of the door to the cell that had been beside theirs ...

"The man who actually identified me was further down the corridor," Nevin was speaking again.

Snapping her gaze up Stare fixed on the man as he began to talk about the fact that there should be a t-section and - oh yes there was. She paused for a moment, thinking he had now become a blockhead, but then she noticed the light. There was only a single torch in the corridor, and that had belonged to the area just outside the storeroom. For a normal being, with normal eyes, it might not seem that obvious that the bi-secting was there at all. Nevin continued, saying that they should try left, just as Stare hurried over to him. It was only on her fourth pace that she realised she was no longer limping, and could only deduce that the healing potion a la blood that the human had given her had worked.

"If you think we should go down there, then let us go," she nodded, peeking around the corridor herself when she got to him.

Left and right she now noticed the light was still dim, and the corridors here continued on in their stone-cold ugliness, aside from a light glinting at the end of each from a window. Really, the people here could invest in some more lighting, she decided. Doors continued also - perhaps three or four down each before heavy doors cut off the end of each. They were seemingly identical, aside from the distrubution of the doors, but at least there seemed to be no one lurking here.

The likely reason why they had not had any recent (in relative terms) company.

"Try left then," she agreed, and started down it, her eyes steady, and pace fast. "There is nothing back there aside from the stairs ... and then more cells."

"You're not? Ah, something of yours they'd taken then?" The corridor seemed fairly quiet, so Nevin felt it was safe enough to stop and talk about the strange load that his friend was now carrying around. Then she was peering past him, and he stretched out his shoulders as she looked in each direction. He figured her keener eyes could see through the gloom, only pierced by a few bands of sunlight breaking in through windows. This place definitely needed better lighting.

So the alchemist gripped the hilt of the sword tighter and began walking down the corridor after her, trying to see if he could detect any traces of blood remaining in a room as they moved through the corridors. There didn't seem to be that many people in the place - maybe they were out on jobs? These were bounty hunters after all, a lot of them were probably involved in trying to track down marks.

The two of them has made it a fair portion down the hall - and from what Nevin could remember from his dazed trip down to the cell, they should be almost there. And there it was - A door that was noticeably different from the others. This one actually had torches on either side of it, framing it in light, and while many of the doors they had passed had had a small grate in it for viewing, this one was a solid mahogany chunk. It was slightly ajar though, and a darker, muddled red light was shining from inside of it. Nevin paused on one side of the doorframe, doing his best to listen through it. He frowned - when he focused, he could hear breathing inside, and a faint scratch of graphite on paper, but not much else. No fire crackling to explain the light from inside, and no talking that he could make out. At least -

"It really is quite remarkable, you know. Capable of forming and maintaining a bond to that rather unpleasant fellow over a considerable distance. If I hadn't been forewarned that he would be paying keen attention once we'd removed the cuff, the being might have caught me off guard. Thankfully my sponsor did warn me. Now, the other fellow that Sandro brought in. He matches precisely the description that vampire fan boy gave us. Not worth quite as much as the crow perhaps, but valuable nonetheless." A grunt answered this sudden voice. "Come come, wake up and pay attention. If not for me, you'd have perished to the crow before she was here for a day or two."

So. Two people, at least, inside the room, and no way of knowing where they were in there. Nevin gripped the sword in one hand and curled his other into a loose, empty hold - he could feel the veins of blood on his skin churning, ready to answer his call and burst forth again. He focused his gaze on Stare and nodded. He was ready to go when she was.

She came to him, her brow furrowing low as she listened to the men. As she remained in the beginnings of her alertness, she shifted the chestpiece of armour from her belt and held it out to Nevin. There was a pause, then she shoved it into his hand with a nod, not quite thinking it was wise to really say anything. Instead they were to wait, to find out more what the beings inside her saying. Steadily her understanding grew.

Inside the room was the mage. Or at least the beast with enough power to remove a piece of divine magic from a follower of that god's wrist. By the sound of his words he had been experimenting with the cuff, but knew what it did and the force of power that laid behind it. Or rather, he has been "warned". By a "sponsor" she realised that there was clearly another behind this. A being who had called for her bounty, likely, the one who had told the mage about Vitruvion's powers. Did this other being know about his godhood? Surely that was impossible ... No one knew but her, Raevin and Ventrua. Unless someone had figured it out. The rumour of him being a half-celestial was supposed to cover that.

She waited until Nevin seemed ready, the dark red chestpiece now upon his body. It covered his torso well, and seemed in fact suited to him, that she was so surprised that it was not in the first place. Indeed, it would protect him from a last number of simple weapons, as would her mythril chainmail. From here, it would be dangerous. If they wanted answers, if she wanted the cuff - gods damned it was with the mage after all this time of searching, she was idiot - they needed to face the ones inside of that room.

She waited for him to be ready, and waited for herself to be ready. Carefully she reached down and unhooked the half helmet from her belt, daggers still in hands - and pushed it over her skull. It framed her upper beak and skull in a tarnished silver metal, leaving space for only her small nostrils and gleaming eyes to peer out of.

"I am ready," she whispered to herself.

Then she tensed her fingers around her weapons.

She placed a hand on the door.

And pushed it open to come face to face with her enemy.

A man standing with the darkest black aura, and black veins of power running hectic all over his body. Chakras chaotic, dark, jagged. A man in torment, but grinning, of chaotic, evil intent.

Nevin stared at his friend for a moment, then down at the armor in his hand, then back to her. Had she been caught trying to get a gift to him? Cobalt, that made him feel like an idiot if that was the case. He listened intently for a moment, but nothing else seemed to be happening in the room, so he awkwardly pulled the chestpiece on - it took a bit of work to get it on silently without putting the weapon down, but Nevin did not want to risk being unarmed if the occupants of the room suddenly decided to leave it. The armor hung a bit loosely on him - but not in a way that made it a poor fit, more that he was not quite as muscular as he should be to fill it out properly. This just reaffirmed his decision to seek out physical training.

"Hmm. Do we have any other prisoners than those two at the moment? No? Too bad, we can't experiment with this cuff more. No matter. My sponsor has informed me they will be ready to retrieve the crow soon - after that you can have your men take the redhead to Radasanth. You'll get your fees from that cultists there." A grunt, and Nevin tightened his grip on the sword so much he swore he heard the leather creak under his hand. It was a cultists that had been looking for him - now he needed to find out where in Radasanth they were, and if it was really a survivor. He had location now though, which was more than he could say before.

Nevin turned dark eyes to Stare - he would wait on her go, he'd heard what he needed to about this. She waited a few moments, then nodded. The Kenku led the charge into the chamber, smashing through the door with her hands in the hilts of her daggers. Her eyes scanned through the chamber and found the man who had just finished speaking, her cuff on the desk next to him. The mage sitting at the desk seemed to slump a bit before rising up, frantically scrabbling for his magic focus.

Nevin meanwhile was occupied with the other occupant of the room. He wasn't a burly man like the other hunters had been - this man was clearly more intellectual in nature. Not a mage, but maybe the head of the business who operated on his smarts and their brawn? In either case, he had been caught off guard by the door suddenly flying open, and had scrambled for a dagger on his belt as Nevin rushed him. Nevin's temporary weapon sunk into the flesh of the man's arm and he let out a cry of pain - and kicked Nevin hard in one knee. The blood mage fell, but kept ahold of his weapon, which meant that the edge of the sword dragged down the man's arm, carving off a strip of flesh.

Nevin twisted, rolling to the side as the man tried to kick him again, but not far enough. The man's kick connected with Nevin's stomach - and the man cried out in pain as his foot, clad only in a thin shoe, met the hard scales of the armor Nevin was now wearing.

Immediately after throwing her stunning stare at the mage, catching herself a precious two seconds of time, Stare ran into the room, letting out a horrendous screech. It sound like a dying bird, mixed with the agonising, painful howl of a wold alone from its pack, but in truth was a noise that kenkus' made when they were faced with a dire foe. Swiftly, and flat out she ran, thankful now of the potion yet still not at her fastest. She caught a brief glimpse of another lackey - except this time more richly dressed - but left him, inviting his end to come at the hands of Nevin.

The blood mage had already proved himself capable of taking lives. What was one more?

Instead, her target was the mage in front of her, now coming out of the stupor she had sent him into with a glare of her burning hate. So full was it right now - hatred of these people here to the extent she did not care about their families' suffering after the end of this - that it had slammed into him with a force like a storm's wind. Now, as he was insteadily getting to his feet she launched at the desk, scrabbling to land on it with her two clawed feet.

"Fff-fuck, how did you-"

Lunging, she stabbed at him with both beak and knife, the fury plain in her eyes. As she did so he drew up a hand, pinching two fingers together as he did. Into the air formed a thin, golden stiletto knife, glinting between the pinched thumb and forefinger. When it came to full physicality he quickly dropped his hand and caught the hilt, a grin forming on his face as did, replacing the shock. Just as she dodged forwardwards he deftly knocked back her fight with his own blade, sparks appearing from it. Gold against white and black, they danced for a a fair few rapid beats, each seemingly as fast as desperate as the opponent, and equally as skilled. The mage was curiously well versed in knifeplay, for barely did she manage to touch him, and it took all of her weapons, including a swipe with a back foot to keep him from harming her.

"Bah!" he suddenly shouted, and she was flung across the room.

Slamming down five feet away into the floor Stare had barely any time to react before she saw him flying up in the air - yes, flying, not jumping - and head towards her. His other hand was swiftly drawing runes and she did not have to look into the aura world to be able to understand a demonic spell was being cast. Sucking in her breath she threw a powerful gaze at the hand he was drawing with, thinking of all the horrible things she had seen in life - and he screamed. His hand twitched, and curled inwards, useless for the next few moments as he heavily landed.

One foot on her stomach.

Crying out in pain she sliced at what flesh she could reach with her legs, and it was considerable - but the mage still held. His useless hand still curled limp at his side but he was baring down at her with the glinting golden knife. The knife seemingly with no edge that she knew would spell the end for her. Desperately she parried against it, but she was on the ground and he had her pinned. It would only be so little time before he managed to get through her defences. Once more she tried to throw her stare back at him - but the mage - well he suddenly closed his eyes. He grinned and kept on fighting, perfectly. Beautifully, smoothly.