The room, silent, aside from someone tapping out an odd stunted interpretation of time with their fingers. Allen discovered himself in the company of an unusual assortment of friends and acquaintances he had never once expected to encounter. All there under the reasonable assumption of what joined them together, Tristan Hurst, Morose Akena, Horus Crouse, and Lance Armistice eyed each other awkwardly from their varying positions amidst the office. Unsure of whether to broach their purpose for being there or to feign normalcy by engaging in small talk as they awaited the final members of their group, Allen found that his foot too now drummed along to the peculiar rhythm set within the room. The anxious wiggling not ceasing, he contemplated the wisdom of joining these diverse characters together in their mission. Although operating seemingly well in their exasperating partnership, Cazer and Allen acknowledged that their plans to launch an more offensive strike on the Moon Gate mages wou

Amidst the forgotten streets and the forlorn inhabited who were relegated to their drenched cobblestones, was a place that remained far removed from the eyes of the public. The location of the business, only known to the few who required specialized or otherwise illicit magic items, Allen was perplexed to once again discover himself at the threshold of Ekral Manstein’s shop. The dismal weather, causing the gray steps that led down off of the street to become slick beneath his feet. Allen descended them cautiously, before finally arriving at the door. Issuing a knock, he passed a long minute or two out in the persistent drizzle, before the little compartment on the door slid open. A pair of dark and tired eyes revealing themselves to him, they scrutinized Allen, whose hair and clothes had come to cling damply to him as they grumbled, “What brings you here?” A few drops of rain from the mantle of the door, falling to slide down the back of his neck, Allen shivered as he replied, “I need

The smell, like death and decay condensed. It seemed to cling to the walls of the tunnels and hang in the air as repugnant as one might find a corpse which still swayed in its noose. The heinousness of the scent, only becoming more egregious as they continued further into the catacombs beneath the bustling streets of Ineset, Allen found that each breath he drew provoked a repulsed churning in his stomach.A rat, made fat by feasting on the bones of the deceased and the other hapless creatures that might live within them, brushing past his foot. Allen released a mild gasp, before recoiling back against the wall of the tunnel in disgust. Already traversing the morbid labyrinth for at least an hour now, he began to hope for any sign of the rogue mages’ hideout to be uncovered soon. Whilst acknowledging that their unlit corridors and seclusion were perfect for those who did not want to be found, Allen could not fathom how it was inhabited by any member of the living for long.Their route,