#our group

"sanguis autem infirma...."

The room was filled with figures; all of which were hooded, cloaked and standing in a gathered group scattered in no real rhyme or reason. There had to be nearly fifty strong of these chanting cultists that all seemed to be facing the opposite wall that the group had come from, with their backs to them.

"et congregans omnes vos..."

[ V . D ]   Pame had begun carefully removing the cold hard steel of her swords from her hips in preparation, her eyes glaring into the darkness without as much as a flinch-- Though to be fair the grip om her swords could have been enough to strangle a full grown human man.

It wasn't a matter of if she was nervous or not, but how long her mask of calm would last. So far it was strong and impervious, even as the suspiciously timed igniting of torches occurred.

Though it had made Pame hesitate from walking deeper, her eyes moving to inspect those remaining before facing forward once more.

"Not suspicious at all,"

Pame murmurs, then reaches to pluck a torch off the wall.

"Stay close. Wade carefully."

With these remarks lingering in the air has the kaldorei pressed forward, calmly and gracefully gliding her legs through the blood, gliding forward with minimal splash or loud waves from the tremor vibrations of her walking.

"What do you think that thing was? A grotesque mutation of Raelyndias experiments?"

Verzatea wondered aloud toward both women, her grip constantly readjusting to better hold the boy in her arms, her eyes often switching between lowering to inspect if he was well and looking back toward the path that lays ahead,

"I hope it wasnt an actual man... Ive seen that before. A test subject whos soul was twisted, broken and deformed then placed into the body of a lab created beast. T'was an awful sight.. He didn't suffer long, thankfully. Soul was too battered."

Until the chanting began... In which Verzatea's original state of shock and horror disappeared, replaced with some rising bubble of passion within. She was plain pissed. Irritated. Wounded. She'd not allow herself to be so weak as to fail those who remained, like she failed Marseille.

Right now she focused solely on the well being of all three individuals surrounding her, and as the highest ranking officer alive among them, it wouldn't look well if she started sobbing like a lost child looking for someone else to fix the problem.

Besides... Tea had beef with Raelyndia, for all evidence of her corruptible touch and what history has shown Tea of the infamous Mistress of the Nine. Tea wouldn't fall victim, and she damned sure would prevent more of her own falling victim.

And if that meant more fighting, surely she could find a good place to rest the boy before unveiling her swords and wreaking her own havoc, relieving all that pent up energy and excitement. But for now she trudged along quietly and observed, her alertness high whilst watching as the scene changed.

Even as the chanters came into vision, Tea and Pame held steadfast, watching them all closely whilst backing in to their group to ensure the four of them were close-- Safety in numbers, sure... But when the safe numbers were out numbered, alas Tea was confident in their abilities... Few in number, but not few in strength.

[ L. K ]   Though it would soon become clear that they were not only expected, but welcomed.  The chanters continued to repeat what they were saying over and over again, it was their mantra that caused the hearts of the intruders to feel unwelcome and unwanted.

As they got closer into the open room, the cultists soon began to turn.  Their horrors bestowed upon the three women. First and foremost each one of them was lacking a head.  The blood soaked stump of the jagged cut was clear that they were decapitated in the most painful of ways; multiple hacks.  

The blood that seemed to be filling this place was in no short supply from these headless monsters.  As they turned to welcome the intruders not only was the fact that their drawn hoods stayed aloft without heads but their bodies were exposed on the front.  The robes were open completely.  Each man, and woman was horribly mutilated.  

Some of the men lacked genitalia, only a blood soaked stain was left.  Some of the women too had been carved; their breasts taken.  Many had missing chest cavities and organs that had been removed, all of them were bloodied and horrific to look at.  Their flesh open and rotting; fetid to the stale air around them yet their chanting never left the hall. 

“Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin, Jursol of the Zandalari....”

The feminine voice would return and shadow them like they were all expected.

“You have come, kneel and take your place within the Order of Nine.  Join those who have come before you.  Only then will you be free...only then will this end.”

At the furthest end of the room there was a large altar, and behind the altar was a massive glass tank structure holding a coagulated blood substance.  The glass was several inches thick; no breaking it.  It seemed to be resonating the sounds they were hearing.

“Do not resist, only through your assimilation will you be forgiven...”

[ V . D ]   "Forgiven?"

Verzatea laughs dryly,

"From the look of things it isn't us who've done wrong,"

With this the Confessor begins to slacken her hold on the boy to lower him to the floor at her feet. A sudden wash of uncertainty befell her, a sort of sensation which had her instincts in overdrive and extra sensitive to the situation.

Perhaps it was nerves, given the high tension and Raelyndia's home advantage. But the three genuine members of the Nine were high alert, they stood a fighting chance. As Tea looked about the room her voice projected forth a query with every ounce of confidence she could muster,

"Forgiven for what?"

Though she played dumb, Tea had an idea what their sins were. Rejecting the Old Gods and abandoning the Black Empire surely didn't bode well for Nzoth and his followers, she could only imagine what they had waiting for the group if they were to reject repentance.

Thus her hands move toward her wrist, hesitating here in preparation to whip free her sword-bracelet-- But first she'd linger and listen. Pame was equally focused, her eyes moving back toward Jursol and her raptors, then to Tea and the boy whom had been sat on the floor in the blood and slumped over his own lap, his spine managing to keep him upright without aid. Pame quickly steps back, taking position to join Tea in circling the child, protecting the weakest in their circle.

[ J ]   Jursol had remained on high alert, focused, silent. She followed the others from behind as they moved further down into this mess. The torches seemed odd to be lit. Something was clearly wrong here. Her eyes scanned their surroundings as they moved further in.

The sound of chanting cause her and the raptors to glance at each other. Something about it caused them alarm. Brushing it they continued onward with the others. This had to end. As they entered into a new room, her eyes cast daggers at the cultist. Grabbing her weapon as she waved a hand to the raptors.

Each one moved into a new position as they circled the group.  As they got a better look at the mangled ripped bodies of the cultists, Jursol was in disbelief.

“By da Loa......not even death be sparring dem.”

Her head turned to face the body of a female. The voice seemingly coming from no where out her on edge. It was worse since they seemed to be expected.

“Who da.....”

Jursol stooped short as she listened to the female, a snort coming from her at the idea of forgiveness. She gave a sharp whistle as one of the raptors moved to surround the boy. The other two remained by her side. Jursol snarled like an animal as she glared at the female.

“We be doing no such thing. Dis be where it ends!”

Looking to the others as she readied herself.

“Dey be dead already, der must be a way ta finish dem off.”

Her gaze was on Tea, as she perhaps was the best one to know how to finished off something that is already dead.

[ L. K ]  After they spoke, a chilling pause resonated before the voice responded.

“You do not understand your sins....but I shall make you see...you will bend; or shatter beneath all that I have built.”

The voice taunted them; the vial at the head of the chamber began to bubble and hiss.  As the voice spoke so too did the vial.  It was clear that whatever was in the massive jar was speaking to them now.

“There is nothing more you can do.  You have all forsaken the Nine.  A curse upon your hearts for I shall be reborn.  And I shall restore that which has been blasphemously ruined in your ignorance.”

A flash of light then burst toward them as a red cosmic hand slowly tore from the ceiling; it’s dripping bloodied fingers curled around a subject.  It was lowered onto the elevated platform and placed standing up.  As the cosmic energy reformed and took its place as a chain noose around the neck of the figure, it became clear to them.

“Behold....”

The man was covered in blood, near death and being secured by a red energy chain that fed back to the large tank of blood substance.  It was Marseille.  His right arm was completely torn off, and his body had multiple teeth wounds across his legs, chest and neck.  He was alive.

“At this moment I have already systematically begun reclaiming all that is mine.”.

The voice said as the chain was jerked back and Marseille stirred to life.

“You will all suffer.  Scattered to the wind by my doing...torn from the place you claim and infest with your hideous stench.  But... as you have left it defenseless, I am curious how many more will be decimated before I reach my goal....I sense one of you has left something very....very important in my home....”

The voice said in a sinister tone.

“Pity....”.

In case it was not obvious that was a dig at Verza, she did leave something very important at home.  Something that was not easily replaced. And then the sound of laughter filled the air with her tone echoing over the chanting of the corpses around them.

[ T ]   As the laughter echoed around the chamber, a new scream was heard. This one was coming from the boy, who has just been finally jerked awake from nightmare after nightmare from merely entering the damned place.

Lazarius’ absence might have also played a part in allowing him to wake. As he woke shrieking, he curled up, only to go silent in his terror as he found himself sitting ankle-deep in blood.

[ J ]   Jursol looked around the room as she tried to think of something. Anything they could do at this time was better then nothing. However a plan was needed before acting. A raptor remained near the boy as he woke up. It purred as it tried to nudge him.

[ V . D ]   After all was said... For a moment... There was silence. To Tea, the shock of witnessing Marseille fall into display for the women and child was but a hazy flash of blurred images.

The cry Pame let forth was a distant noise to the sindorei, even as the kaldorei was standing just a little in front of Verza. The hollering of the boy, the noise from the raptors, the chanting. The threat. The laughter. It all came full circle and caught Verza's attention, the warnings resonating in the back of her mind, its many euphemisms unraveling into dozens of possibilities.

There were many things important that Tea has left behind in places that Raelyndia could have deemed home. But only one really stood out, something so undeniably invaluable... A powerful little girl of the void, a gift from the Gods themselves.

Verza's assumption led to a stiffened posture, her face flushing with blind rage whilst stepping forward as if she would charge the tank, a growl of hatred in her throat as she snarled out with the ferocity of a scorned mother.

"If one death was not enough to put you in your place, a second time will!"

Tea growls, her claw designed nails digging into the armor of Pames extended arm, her passionate spiel continuing as she spits out,

"If I must cross the realms and enter death to deal with you myself, then I swear upon the Duskflame name your reign of terror will cease as swiftly as it began!"

Vehemently she tore and dug her words at the disembodied figure, her excitement and fear pairing boiling to a point of being full of chaotic rage.

"You will once more be forgotten, made insignificant, I will personally wipe every shred of evidence of your existence from this world!"

Before Verzatea could risk herself, and the others by abandoning the group, Pame reaches an arm out to catch the ferocious little elf. Pulling her backwards the kaldorei whispers to calm the woman.

Tea had her arms pinned to her chest by Pames single arm, the sindoreis frazzled appearance indication of just how quickly the idea of her daughter in danger could rile her.

All the while Tea squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths, looking as though she were fighting to regain her composure-- Though really she was projecting her thoughts as loudly as she could in hopes Lazarius may hear.

Brinys was possibly in danger. The Bastille was possibly in danger. Their friends, their family, and their students... Everyone was at risk now. The kaldorei then focused in on Marsielle before hissing, testing out the waters to determine if this was another trap that would set them in a hostile situation.

"Marseille?"

She was guided by pure hope that it was real. That he was still alive and capable of retrieval as she then begins to inspect the chain around his neck.

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