Fantasy Empire of Zune

[sheesh]

"Impossible! I won't just sit here and put the fate of Zune itself in the hands of some..ragtag team that the council's representatives have thrown together. What if they don't even succeed?"
"Calm down, Moranthir. The idea wasn't proposed by the council, it was proposed by a Grey. If you're one to doubt the Grey's then..."
"Then what!? What am I, Faren?"
"Perhaps we should have more faith in them. Even if the idea was proposed by the Grey's, throwing together a team of the best of each races can have its benefits. Such a diverse group of skills and talents increase the chance of this plan succeeding - which I have faith it will."
"...I agree with the Dwarf. This entire idea seems awful. The fact that it was presented by a Grey makes it seem so unbelievable. The big headed creep somehow gets past our security, comes in front of the council and preaches about some demon we don't even know is real or not, and says we need to throw together some warriors without a time frame. You can't tell me that doesn't sound over-specific and vague!"
"Finally! Someone with some sense!"
"Now, now. We all have sense here, but I have to disagree with you on this. We can't just disband them now. The team could be here any minute. We wouldn't want to waste their time, would we?"
"To hell with their time! I was put on this council for the betterment of my people, and if you try to tell me that sending an army isn't a better alternative, then you can kiss my-"

"ENOUGH!"

The room visibly shook, and dust fell from the ceiling. The entire council was silenced. The argument had been going on for hours without any progress made. It started when the head representative of the Dwarves faction had become upset with the idea of such a small team being sent to kill a demon that the council hadn't even heard of before they were informed by a mysterious Grey who appeared before the council prior to the assembly of the team. The head representatives of the Human, Elf, and Orc faction had been discussing it during the current annual council meeting. So far, the head representative of the council itself, an angel named Gareth had remained silent up until now. It had been the Orcs and Dwarves debating with the Human and Elves, which is surprising, because usually the Humans and Elves had more disagreements, and the Orcs and Dwarves stayed out of it.

"I will not sit idly by while my council rips itself apart. We won't speak anymore of this until the team we've assembled have come and gone. Am I clear?" Gareth spoke. He looked around the room, with the high chairs assorted in a half circle around a large stone room, the walls with delicate patterns. Many of them told stories of previous events that happened in Zune. A few tiles on the wall remained bare and plain, waiting for history to occur so it may bare a pattern like the rest. Gareth glared around the room, daring anyone on the council to challenge him. He was no Grey, but if he definitely wanted to, he could set anyone ablaze with a mere wave of his hand. The Dwarf representative spoke up, rising out his chair quickly. "We cannot just allow this to happen. Gareth! This is terr-"

"Am. I. Clear?" Gareth said, rising out of his own chair to a height of 6'5, many feet taller than Moranthir, the head Dwarf representative. As Gareth stood, the guards placed around the room all took a step forward in complete sync, and pointed their spears towards Moranthir. The only sound in the room was the resounding echo of the guards footsteps. The guard's loyalty remained only to the head of the council, and no one else. Not even themselves. If they were told to jump on their spear and take their own life, they would do it with no hesitation what so ever. Slowly, Moranthir sat back in his chair, his face beet red, glaring at Gareth with an expression so fierce it could scare a dragon out of its own scales. Gareth took a seat a few moments after, the council remaining silent.

As if to break the silence, the large, golden, ornate door suddenly creaked open, and out through the smallest cracks came a frail man. He took two sprinting steps before the Council Guard crossed their spears in an X in front of him, and promptly stopped his momentum with their large shields, causing the man to fall over. The man slides back, away from the guards. "Let him through." Gareth commanded. The guards simultaneously stepped back into their positions on the flanks of the door. The man walks to the council, in the middle of all of their thrones. He kneels, stuttering out: "M-M'lord. The team has arrived. They are just outside the palace's door." The man said. Gareth, nodding, responds with: "You may rise. Allow them to wait for just a few more minutes while we settle a few things. Give or take 10 minutes. I will arrange for two of my guards to escort them in. You are not to speak to them at all unless completely necessary."

The frail man nods, and gets up from one knee and scurries out of the door. As the door shut once more, Gareth stood, and his angelic wing's unfolded. He flew over to Moranthir's throne, unsheathing a white ornate blade, hardly made for combat, but definitely with a sharp enough edge to kill. He aimed the tip of the blade at Moranthir's throat. "Now, Moranthir. You thought it was a good idea to speak out against me even after I said we wouldn't bring it up presently? Furthermore, I understand your faction does not have any representatives. You've failed to do your task. This is your penalty."

Moranthir spat. Then he was no more.


The party waited outside, in front of a large door, at a palace, on top of a mountain residing in the Land of Angels. Everything in the Land of Angels seemed to glow and prosper. Even the Angels, who glowed anyways, seemed brighter. The conditions were sunny and hot. Very hot, even at the top of the mountain, the disciplined Council Guards were sweating, and were clearly struggling to maintain their composure, especially in the heavy and ornate armor they always wore. The group was gathered just a few meters away from the door, where there were benches, and just down the hill, countless markets with foods that were made by Angels. Quite literally.

There they were left to get to know each other, as talking had been strangely prohibited during the ride there.

Darkraven Kenjinx Dumplingboy That Poppy Cosmo s u n

 

[s u n]

Kara walked up the stairs her family trailing behind her, "Kindra dear please reconsider this madness!" her mother's voice was trembling with sadness. Kara wanted to stop and tell her mother it was going to be ok but instead, she merely said with an elegant yet still strong voice, "Your acting as if I'm never going to return." The male training behind Kara presumed to be her older brother spoke up almost instantly, "God forbid! God forbid that ever happens but-but this isn't your job let them take care of it." Kara suddenly stopped in her tracks her green orbs turned to pierce her brothers own. He was always the one that understood her they were the most similar not by their looks since they were similar in their ways of thinking this statement was unexpected of her brother. "I came here when I was six years old. I have no power in this land I'm widowed and alone...I don't even know where my son is. I'm just a pawn in my husbands family. This place I learned that it's a fractured place of hate and distrust. Still this is our home we cannot afford to let it burn. It's our job to protect it...because if we don't who will?...It's time to accept my fate." Kara spoke as if she's said this a million times when in fact she was struggling to keep the tears, in turning around a warm hand reached out to grab her own, "Let the others who have come take care of it...please I beg you." her mother spoke the tears already falling from her eyes.

"I am a noble and a fighter and women who will stop at nothing to save the Celestial crystal. I will not let those beings those creatures do my bidding for me I am stronger and more powerful than they will ever be! I will not go so low as to leave and let them do an angels job. And if you wish to stop me I will fight you like I will fight them..." Kara's father called out her name in shock,
"Kara-" Kara finishing her sentence that her father so boldly cut off looking directly into his orbs cutting him off, "To the death."
Turning to her mother Kara took her mother's hand in her own, "I'm sorry I have failed you." shaking her head the parent hugged her daughter.
------
Standing in front of the door Kara glared at one of the guards,
"What are they doing inside?" the guard stunned at the sudden question after minutes of glaring him down he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off, "Are they having tea and biscuits in there? Are you serious? Why won't you speak up?!" the guard was very confused and just stood there trying to understand what has been said. Kara sighing pierced her eyes through the doors fixated on it like it was something she'd never seen.
"This is a disgrace. What are they even talking about..." Kara scoffed, "How unprofessional and who are these people, councilmen...more like children." Kara said this pacing back and forth she had a tendency to be very impatient.
Tags: none open for interaction

 

[Darkraven]

"I'm afraid this is where we must part ways, Qasimir," Jezebeth said to her squire as she dismounted from her horse. The others were already ascending the steps, but she hadn't. Couldn't. Not yet. Her squire, Qasimir, dismounted with her, and looked like someone had died. Jezebeth knew how he react. People who had the luck to accompany her on whatever she was doing tend to act that way.

"Why must it be you? We're of the Guardian Order, and we already have the mandate to vanquish demons. They have no right to take you away," Qasimir lamented, on the verge of tears. Jezebeth took him by shoulders, soothing him. It wasn't anything to do with duty and honour, the paladin knew. It was more than that. They weren't just mentor and student, paladin and squire, or soldiers. They had been more than that ever since her husband, Jorges, was killed by a rather demented Incubus who seeked to corrupt her.

"Shush, Qasimir. You are strong. I am sorry that I have weakened you so," Jezebeth cooed. She stroked his face lovingly - she had never anticipated this, that she would be this boy's heartbreaker, and he was only 20 and soon to be knighted after her tutelage. "I've watched you grow for the past four years, hunt down your first demon, and a huge one too!" They both laughed, with the man shedding a tear that streamed down his cheek. "You've done well since, and this is the next step. I must go, Qasimir, and so must you. I've already sent a message to the local chapter here in Angel country. You will be knighted here."

"You've always provided the best for me, ma'am. Some say that this is the best place to be knighted," Qasimir said, but he was thinking more than that. There wasn't much joy in his words; he could only imagine a ceremony without Jezebeth in it, and how dull it would be.

"Yes. Chin up, dear. Perhaps we will meet again... And as equals. Now, wouldn't that be more interesting?" Jezebeth tried to comfort her squire. Deep down, it felt like something else, a confusion of emotions. She relished moments like this, yes, even moments like this. Qasimir's weakness was a time for her to be strong. It made her feel useful. It made her feel good, deep down. Somehow. At the same time, she felt for her squire - worried, afraid for him. She could only thank the Gods that she hadn't... Darkened inside, not at this particular moment. Oh, thank the Gods, not at this crucial moment. "Now, how about you fetch me my ceremonial kit, a final time?"

"Yes, milady," Qasimir said with a tearful smile, which was the antithesis of the strength his armour gave him. Trotting over to his mistress' horse, he retrieved a leather satchel from among her belongings and opened it. Numerous medals and a cloak. Jezebeth stood squarely facing him, waiting. The squire understood. First, he pinned the medals on Jezebeth's armour chest cloth, taking great care in picking them up and securing them as though they were priceless artifacts, and Jezebeth, a Goddess. One was a golden medallion for bravery, and another a blue ribbon with silver base for rescuing an important person, or persons. A stylish star denotes her status as Paladin of the Guardian Order, if her already-ornate battle armour didn't signal that. A row of crimson medals denoted the number of demons she had killed. She had four, which meant that she had slain forty demons in her time - if only there were medals for other kinds of foes, she would have more. Last, Qasimir secured the cloak on her shoulders.

Before long, she was ascending the steps like the rest, leaving behind a very distraught Qasimir watching, as if the world was ending. When he couldn't bear it anymore, he tied her mistress' horse to a tree, and rode away.

At the top of the mountain, Jezebeth was already beginning to sweat. Perhaps the cloak was a mistake, she thought. That was when she saw the rest of those who had been summoned for this great mission. One of them, an angel, she could instantly tell, was already becoming impatient, and quite spiteful in her words. Sighting a bench, Jezebeth sat down and checked her bearings: Helmet worn properly, visor up, gorget properly arranged. Her pair of swords on either side of her hip was neatly arranged. Good. Her shield, still useful for ceremony outside of combat, was secured tightly to her arm. Her crossbow was on her horse, but it was not necessary. Jezebeth adjusted her breastplate, as she thought it was slightly off, but ultimately it was just her imagination.

Somehow, ever since crossing into Angel country, Jezebeth had been feeling nervous, sometimes incredibly so. Even she did not know why this was so. She had always wanted to see how it was like there - being fully dedicated to her order and mission, she had always been busy travelling to where demons were commonly sighted. Now was her chance, and yet she could not help but to be tense. The angel who was to be her colleague, was making her tense, too, for some reason.

"Get a hold of yourself, Jezebeth," she whispered to herself. "This is the hundredth time you're facing a group of important people - why break now?"

s u n - Kindra 'Kara' Vandas mentioned.

 

[Kenjinx]

One. Two. One. Two. One. Two.

Kuruz was making his way up the mountain at an easy pace, always focused on his next step before his destination. Somewhere along the way he had thought it wise to remove his larger sword from his waist where it was now being used as a walking stick, rough metal cap on the end of the scabbard scraping against the stone ever so often as the only real noise to break the monotony. The Orc cast a brief glance back past the glaring sun to see the market through which he had just traveled, raising his straw hat in silent thanks for the bundle of wheat he had been able to find along the way. Turning it in the corner of his mouth and clamping down on the piece of wheat with his teeth, he continued along his way. 'In due time. All in due time.'


"A council?" An old, bearded man with soot-stained hair was hammering away at a glowing piece of metal, sturdy arms behind every ringing noise.

"That's what it sounds like. Apparently we've made enough noise to get someone's attention." Kuruz paused, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and amending his statement. "Someone that's alive and well." Shaking the thought of the undead out of his head with a quiet breath, he held a letter up to the light to better see it. His left hand slowly found its way to the hilt of the sword at his belt, sliding it from its scabbard with a quiet rasp. "I guess I should get going. When I can." He seemed to pause between every few words, an old habit of his.

"I'm guessin' you want me to touch up those blades of yours, then." The smith lifted the unfinished blade, turning it around and looking down the side to ensure that it hadn't warped. Satisfied, he returned to hammering away at it. "S'all I ever do. When are you plannin' to bring me back some more o'that ore?" There was an undertone of humor in his voice, even if his stubborn expression said otherwise.

"When you find some more for me to go get." Kuruz gathered up both of the swords, crossing them gently over one another and placing them beside a stand. "I need more oil. As quick as you can make it."

A loud rasping and ringing noise came forth from the anvil as the hammer glanced just slightly off the edge, the old man bringing it back in line shortly after. "Bah! There you go with that damned oil again. You better be thankin' me every time you swing your sword that it can stand up to that kind o'nonsense. If anything goes wrong, don't come blamin' me." There was a sense of pride in his speech, even if all of it seemed like some jab.

"Believe me, if anything breaks in a fight then it'll be your ass on the line." The Orc drew the corner of his mouth up into a crooked grin. "Just make sure they'll last longer than me." With the grin still on his face, he turned toward the staircase.

"Don't matter how long they last, you're comin' back to bring me a souvenir, ain'tcha?" A heaving laugh came from the older man.

"Ha!" Kuruz only barked a short laugh, making his way up the smithy stairs for the rest of his preparations. This would be one of the last visits he could enjoy for a long while.


One. Two. One. Two. One -

After a matter of minutes, he was greeted by the sight of level ground; shortly after, he spotted the great palace gates with guards before them. The wheat had turned to a gummy substance in his mouth now, prompting him to reach for another stalk to replace it. His eyes narrowed at everything before him. 'The beginning of progress in whatever this mission will turn out to be.' His weight shifted as he stood straight, slowly lifting the sword and scabbard up into the air before letting it fall flat onto his shoulder with a quiet 'clink'. His other hand came up to clap at the exposed section of his chest, smashing some insect or another which had perched there while he moved forward.

The first thing that caught his eye was the plated woman gleaming in the sunlight, decorated like no other he had ever witnessed. With cloaks, medals and ribbons that ensured her standing out in physical appearance as well as status. From the looks of it she was uneasy, or likely just caught in thought as anyone would be in such a situation. Yet, he shuffled along, only turning his head either which way at a lazy pace to catch his next sight. It seemed his first ally was not so calm, but perhaps his second -

"Why won't you speak up?!"

Kuruz raised his head to peer at the not-so-thrilled woman who seemed to be 'enjoying' a conversation with the distressed guard. His teeth continued to work at the wheat while his feet slowly carried him forward toward the two in question, yet he was silent. Surely enough he reached the gates, walking right up to the point just before he would be stopped by the guard and observing with his head tilted back. He cast a brief glance of muted sympathy toward the guard, drawing some parallel in terms of physical comfort to the armored woman he had just passed. He flicked his gaze between him and the lady who had just spoken. 'Poor bastard.'

And there he stood. It appeared that he had plenty of time and plenty of patience, as he made no inquiry about entering - in fact, it may have even looked like he didn't mind whether or not he was there at all.

Darkraven s u n

 

[Cosmo]

Arkos leaned heavily against his staff and let out a long breath as he finally reached the gates. Why in the world anyone would build a palace up here was beyond him. A castle meant to defend the land, yes, as to siege it would prove challenging, but a palace built more for ego and to thumb their neighbors at their wealth in a place that was damned hard to get to? Well, that was just poor planning. Sure, they were angels and so could fly, but he used to be able to fly and what did he not do? Build his house on top of a twice damned mountain. He could only imagine the ego and sense of self-importance the owner of such a place would have. The journey to here was dull, even by his standards, his escort to the land of the angels was overly ornate and far more exuberant than what was called for, the amount of gleaming banners of Araoth, the nation that was to provide payment for his services, the brilliant luster of the armor of the knights and men-at-arms only making him feel woefully under dressed in his dirtied azure robes. He had hope, faint hope as it was, that once they reached the land of the angels, he would be allowed to travel the rest of the way himself, as he was hardly a youth on his first 'adventure', but the angels had given their own escort even more overly ornate then that of Araoth's and even less prone to conversations which he had been thankful of, telling the soldiers their grandmother's were disappointed in them had lost its joy. Of course, the spirits of their families had never spoken to him, but Arkos always found enjoyment in making people think they did. His brown eyes jumped between the overheated guards, something he, thankfully wasn't suffering from as badly using his astral magic to keep a small torrent of air running around his body acting as a nice cool breeze, and it looked like they were not prepared to open the gates quite yet which did not sit well with Arkos. He had not traveled all this way to wait for angels who could not even pick a suitable place for their palaces to decide now was the correct time to get this under the way, it smelt of the same poor thought and planning that went into the palace design and location which did not bode well for this 'job'. He would much prefer a quick job so that he could collect his reward and go back to things that are truly important, but it wasn't the first time he had to deal with such people.

Arkos moved his attention to the other people gathered before the gate, the others called to the same task as he. The first to catch his attention was the paladin, not because she truly stood out, but because the light reflected off her armor had caught his eye, a rather unpleasant sensation. He knew her kind, paladins were never fond of what he did and the scar above his eye had come from one of their kind trying to carve a name from his hide. He couldn't see much of her face from this angle and the visor, open as it was, did not lend itself to his vision, but he assumed she was suitably noble looking. The second to draw his attention was the monster sized orc, or perhaps normal sized? Was hard to tell with orcs. He had little doubt that large orc was a warrior, as, well, he had yet to meet a great orc scholar and doubted that would change anytime soon. Orcs had one real purpose in the world, it seemed, and that was to hit things really hard with large pieces of steel and, if he could say anything for their kind, it seemed they were good at their calling. The last of their 'group' was, obviously, an angel. A beautiful one at that, but then, was there any other kind? He had yet to meet an ugly angel, he was sure the angels had members of their kind they thought was ugly, but to mere humans, they all tended to be rather beautiful. If he were more vain a man, he would call it unfair. From her shouting, he knew that was a woman used to being the most beautiful in any room she walked into, and worse, he would bet she knew it, but her yells and little paces reminded him a bit of his wife and her fiery temperament... if she had hair that blazed as greatly as her temperament. An odd group, the makings of a joke, 'A paladin, an orc and an angel walk into a bar... Just kidding, an orc doesn't have money.'

As he eyed the others of this little group, he stroked his beard, content to simply watch and observe for now as they were all rather interesting and he couldn't fight down the slight need to know more about these... people. If he could not make the trip faster because the angel hosting this did not seem to understand common decency, at least, figuring out this new puzzle could prove an interesting diversion.

s u n Darkraven Kenjinx sheesh



​

 

[sheesh]

While the team was waiting outside, they could observe that the palace was stupidly large, almost as tall as a mountain, but lacking the general width of it. The top of the tower was many score miles above the clouds, and the only reason you could actually breathe up there was due to the fact that Gareth himself had tamed Wind Elementals to supply oxygen and to keep it cool on the inside. Most of the world's technological advances originate from either the Dwarves, or the Land of Angels. Many of them were concentrated here, where the most recently developed, and only "Lift" in existence exists. Through use of magic, a bit of mechanical parts, engineers have found a way to make a platform move quickly in directions on the y axis without harming the passengers. This allows for large towers such as the palace before the group to be scaled with extreme ease and quickness.

Before any sort of true conversation could begin, and fairly before most of the team had arrived, time was up, and it was time for the Council's selections to join the palace. The scrawny man, who had just earlier reported to the Council and there selected had arrived, pushed open the gates. Just as quickly as it had happened, the guard who was just nervous earlier regained his composure extremely quick, to the point where it was questionable whether or not he was actually nervous at all. As do all pairs or groups of guards, the two guards flanking the doors took a step that was exactly 1 foot to the left or right (respectively) of the door. Out came the man, with surprisingly somehow more ornate looking guards both diagonally in front and behind him. He spoke softly, with very concise words. "It's time." The words came out ominously.

He beckoned them to follow him down the long hallway. The first floor was the base, and was mainly decoration and a strong support structure for the rest of the tower. The two guards at the sides of the door both stepped behind the group, and lightly shoved them towards the direction of the door with their shields, much like ushers trying to get a stubborn sheep to join the rest of the flock. The moment they left their spots, two more guards came by and assumed their positions.

The inside of the palace's first floor smelled like any other castle, which, while it did symbolize great wealth, had awful living conditions. Easily heated, and easily frigid. The first floor was no different. Though it was neatly decorate with gold and silver, with expert stone craftsmanship, the inside was colder than it was hot outside. The immediate change was so sudden that it was surprising that the guards were still calm about it. Perhaps the tame wind elementals were doing too good of a job.

It would be a good 10 minute walk to the lift, which was a ludicrously long time to walk just to view the same repeated patterns in the walls, only to get to a lift. Once they made it there, however, their guard escort did not step onto the lift. They instead stopped while the scrawny man kept walking. The fact that they did this without any sort of communication made everything about the Council Guards look professional. "Just up here is your destination. Don't look off the edge of the lift, and kept your arms and legs on top of the platform, unless you want to be sucked off of the lift. That'd be a shame." The man said. Even with the immense speed of the Lift, the tower was still too tall to arrive to the top instantly. There'd be just a few more minute wait until they reached the summit.

In the mean time, all they could do was talk.

Cosmo Kenjinx Darkraven s u n

 

[Darkraven]

When the gates of the castle opened, Jezebeth snapped into focus again. It was hard to believe that she had waited even a fraction of an hour when it did - and that some of her would-be companions had either just arrived or were waiting around in equal silence. She had spent all her time and concentration on staving this strange feeling inside her... And for the most part, she felt successful, as she finally turned her attention to what was good - and there was no lack of this in Angel country.

"It's time," a scrawny announcer had 'welcomed' them as the gate opened. With military precision, the guards shifted. Jezebeth stood up, and straightened her breastplate again, even though there was no need to. Walking towards the gate, her armour rattling slightly, she turned her gaze towards her new colleagues: The angel, who was harassing the guard, a large-sized orc who she could respect just for being orc - they are a race on an eternal battle against demons, something she could relate to. Then there was the mage, a human just like her, who seemed... Unconventional, yet somehow familiar. An ally or former enemy, she had yet to rack her brain over the facts.

The air within the castle was colder than the outside. Jezebeth was beginning to sweat, and welcomed the sensation of cooling air, something she found much more familiar. They were surrounded by guards, well-decorated walls and... The feeling of nervousness was returning again, as if they were falling down the throat of a giant monster instead of seeing the important people of the good Celestial races. Taking a secretive glance at her counterparts once more, she hesitated to speak to them. However, she decided that, if they were supposed to work together for any length of time, she must begin socialising with them; sinking roots, even lean on them somewhat. Qasimir's leave was a bigger blow than she let on; she had to be strong for him, and it would be unbecoming of a paladin to break down before a squire. If nothing else, a warm body beside her, or below her, in bed was a great source of comfort, especially ever since Jorges' death.

The orc - he seemed familiar somewhat. Jezebeth had been to Orc country on multiple occasions before. The Guardian Order had many connections there, even an Orc-centred chapter there. Orcs were natural allies to the Guardian Order because of their common enemy. This particular one, however, seemed... known.

Before she had a chance to speak up, their guide had lead them to a strange contraption known as the lift, and shepherded them to the centre of it.

"So, Orc-friend, how do you fare? I imagine that the Land of Angels is less familiar than a good demon hunt, right?" Jezebeth said to the Orc without turning to him as her eyes were focused on what was ahead, or would soon be ahead, before realising that she must be advertising her nervousness too clearly. One of her hand had reached for the ruby necklace on her chest, stroking it. "You seem familiar to me. May I humbly ask: what's your name?"

(( Kenjinx - Kuruz Stonebrow mentioned extensively, and talked to by Jezebeth. ))

 

[Kenjinx]

As soon as he heard the sound of plate shifting, Kuruz clamped down on the remaining piece of wheat between his teeth and turned his attention forward. Upon being greeted by the sight of the little man and his fancy guards, he couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle. 'Must have made his way up in the world, or stuck close to someone else who did.' A quick glance was cast either way before the Orc stepped forward, not minding if he was to be the first into this strange palace. He cupped the pommel of his sword and gently slid it downward from his shoulder once he was ushered inside, looking over to the guard who had seemed to regain his composure with no trouble at all. Then, oddly enough, he just put on a wide and toothy grin for a brief moment before quickly returning to a less goofy expression. He raised his scabbard once more to tip the hat from his head and onto its back where it would hang, moving finally from the sunlight into the shade. Despite the fact that he had tried to have a sense of humor and poke some fun, this was serious business, a fact he was reminded of once he felt the shields push him forward into the beautifully boring halls.

Seeing as he was used to some degree of blazing heat back westward, the sudden chill did little to brighten Kuruz's day. He raised a hand to rub at his collar while his eyes focused on the decorations and craftsmanship of the walls around him. The question of how many Dwarven builders must have visited the palace entered his mind, although he knew from experience that it was usually impossible to answer and pointless to ask; beside, it didn't look like the people leading him on would be interested in hearing it. As the present surroundings' dull state was seemingly becoming cemented, he once again turned his thoughts inward no doubt to ponder what would be the proper course of action once this leader was present. Funnily enough, standing still in the heat of the sun didn't wear his patience thin so much as walking through these cold halls did.

Every time the paladin adjusted her armor, it would catch Kuruz's attention. He recalled the times in years past when he would travel north to the mountains clad in heavy fur that made him feel like he had a rug around his shoulders, constantly readjusting it and struggling not to just shrug it off entirely. He was somewhat less subtle in his observations of his would-be comrades, although he was certainly calm enough that it wouldn't make a scene. Finally finished with just watching in silence, he decided to speak.

"Uncomfortable -" His words were cut off as this strange lift contraption was explained, and more specifically he was warned of its dangers. At the mention of keeping arms and legs away from the edges, he couldn't help but think of his arms and legs being the only things that don't stay on the lift. That was enough for him to heed the warning. By that time the woman had already spoken, and so he turned to reply in a surprisingly conversational tone.

"A lot of things are less familiar than a good demon hunt." His words possessed a sense of light hearted humor. "You don't strike me as someone who likes to visit here." He didn't reply to her question right away, instead taking the time to conjure up some memories and find where he had seen the woman behind the armor before. He raised the weapon to balance it on the nape of his neck, draping his arms over both sides as if it were some sort of bar. "I think I fought with you and your people, against the demons." He spoke that last word with clear venom. "Infernals always find something to summon faster than they die. You had a shield, and I didn't. Makes a world of difference." It was true, he knew such warriors were better suited for great pitched battles like this one had been. Somehow or another he had been dragged into it several years prior, although fortunately he managed to survive the ordeal. He lowered his head in thought.

"It's Kuruz. It can be Kur, if brevity is key." He quickly clarified his choice of wording. "Kur with a 'K'." This was followed by a gruff sound of amusement from the man.

Darkraven

 

[That Poppy]

Gwen had woken up early yet her bad sense of direction caused her to be late slightly tripping over her feet she surprisingly managed to catch up with the group through the door. Standing there Gwen noticed her appearance fixing her hair and attire frantically while the small man began talking about safety precautions. Not taking any interest in it Gwen paid more attention to her surroundings. She was a little surprised at the number of the group. Not to mention they looked like an odd bunch all together also the separation of the group. Although she should have seen this coming they are all strangers no one trusts the other. This wasn't going to work out they were all put together to work together if that made any sense.

Poking her head between an orc and paladin Gwen questioned them, "Do you know where we're going?" pointing slightly at the direction they were supposedly heading in. Unlike most Gwen was very organized everything needed to be in order. She needed to be sure of where she was at all times or she would 'malfunction'.
Darkraven Kenjinx