A cloaked figure had made their way through the deadlands, feet stomping through the dirt with delicacy yet resolution. Ezra had been travelling for what seemed like an eternity, almost desperate to catch up to the alchemist known as Nevin. Although they had been informed that the shop was closed and that the man was going to take care of a personal errand, the Homunculi couldn't help but be concerned. If on this journey, Nevin would perish, they would lose so much progress for the answers they so desperately were seeking. How many other alchemists could they turn to for advice? Certainly not anyone they knew, so Nevin's safety took priority.
And since the man insisted on not eating well, despite Ezra's best efforts on fixing that bad habit, it was more concerning that the man had traveled to such a lifeless area as few people would be around to cook for him. They had seen his attempts to prepare a meal, and frankly, they would rather face ten more ravenous bears at once than try to eat the man's 'cooking'. The new hammer they had recently acquired was in hand, as a nasty little monster had decided to try and make a meal out of Ezra. The beast's head, or what was left of it, was currently a fine paste fifty or so yards back. They definitely liked this new weapon, and its magic deflection and absorption properties would get a proper field test eventually. For now, though, it made the monsters regret coming after the short humanoid, and for that, they were grateful.
In the distance, a blue-white flash blipped into existence then vanished as soon as it had come. The Homunculi recognized it as some form of powerful magic, and made their way ever closer. The castle in the distance could wait; magic like that was a much higher priority.
Upon arriving at the campfire, they paused at the odd grouping that had made their party around the flames. There was an avian figure, with black feathers and robes. A curiosity, to be sure. A man who stood with an aura of dignity and grace, a presence that the Homunculi could not simply ignored. He stood out as a beacon of sorts against the decay of the land. Someone very, very powerful, to be sure. Next, was a somewhat familiar face in that of the Mythweaver known as Sketch. They almost waved, and then their gaze shifted back to the last man at the campfire. A very familiar face indeed in the form of Nevin himself, the very man the Homunculi had been seeking.
Pulling back their hood, they looked at the red-haired man and gave a very polite, albeit off-putting smile. "Well, well, Sir Nevin. I have finally found you. It is good to see you are alive and with ...friends?" Their purple eyes sparkled against the campfire, and the hammer they had been carrying went headfirst into the ground with a loud thump.
