A Song of Utgardr

The weather being rather unfavourable around Mount Hakobe was not a rare sight. Harsh environment and low temperatures were how things simply were, up on the mountain. The tattooed man was sitting in his mostly barren room in the grand castle that had been liberated for the Guild that became his home, for the time being. With his greater sense of hearing he noticed how the wind behind the walls picked up on its intensity, making him curious to see how badly the trees were bending. However, even with his superior sight, he could only barely make out silhouettes of the trees from his window. His view was obstructed by a heavy blizzard.

Seeing the blizzard behind the window spurred a bit of his muse, as well as some old memories. Memories of his time training in Iceberg, under Rhew's tutelage. Until he left without a trace and a curse that the man had foolishly asked for. With a little smile he put on his leather jacket onto his naked torso and take his cane, along with his Book of Poems that he hid in his jacket. His quiet steps led him out of the castle and into the blizzard, which most people would classify as potentially life threatening.

The wind was not the most pleasant for the tattooed man, but the icy bits that bounced off of his bare arms and got stuck in his black hair felt incredibly nostalgic. He kept to the path that led him down the mountain. Even if he was fine with cold and snow, the last thing he needed was to get lost. Then again, if the worst came to pass, he could always teleport himself to the Guild grounds, thanks to the mark that was pressed on his neck.

The blizzard was still intense when he entered the little village, the wind not letting up and intent on making the road for travelers that much more perilous. Seeing as he was not on any official Guild business, a regular tavern seemed like a fitting place to take temporary shelter from the unrelenting weather. He could observe the locals in peace, see if there was anything brewing and possibly nip it in its bud. That was the plan, anyway.

The tattooed man would push open the tavern's door, letting in a gust of cold air, disrupting the group that was huddled near a fireplace. They looked over to the newcomer who dared to let in the cold wind, their face expressions turning from general annoyance to mild shock. The man would close the door, as he overheard the group's whispers about his choice of clothing, quickly lumping him in with a... snow witch? The mage's sight swiftly scanned the room, finding an another person. Tucked away in the far corner, away from the warmth of the fire. Perhaps there was more to this person that first sight let on. As well as an another group that was in the tavern. The man could not understand their whispers, but he didn't pay them any mind. They were most likely just passing travelers, being forced to stop in this tiny village because of the vicious blizzard.

"Something to keep me company, if you would." The mage would run his free hand through his black hair to get rid of some of the snow and ice that got caught in it, as he placed his request. The man tending to the place was about to object, but upon noticing the Guild mark, he only grumbled under his breath as he got to work. In the meantime, the tattooed man would make his way towards the woman sitting in the corner. His cane quietly clicked as he walked, finally stopping near the person in question. "May I share a table with you?" He would ask, motioning towards the empty spaces with his unoccupied hand.

The man's hearing let him overhear the various conversations that quietly filled the still air. He did not care for any of them, for some were about topics that did not concern him and the rest he couldn't understand. The sound of his voice brought the woman's gaze to him, who, surprisingly enough, did not deny his company. "Thank you." The man would thank and pull away a heavy wooden chair upon which he then sat down. He would prop his cane against the chair next to him as the woman commented on the choice of his wear and nationality. Most likely because of the vicious blizzard that still was raging on outside.

The tattooed man would give the woman a little smirk. "My choice of attire might be influenced by the fact I grew up in Iceberg." He would give his table companion a little hint, but it was not the whole story. It was simply the part that mattered in the situation. The mage would lean back in his chair, the wood lightly creaking due to its age. However, he did not expect the following question the woman posed for him.

She knew his name? Was he truly that infamous in Fiore already or was there something else at work? Her accent did not ring too familiar to his ears, thus V could not pinpoint the right guess. The man would slightly tilt his head, but the sound of the wood creaking interrupted his own question. It was the man who was tending to the bar he commanded earlier. He silently placed a tankard on the table, in front of the tattooed mage. He didn't spare a single glimpse and just as fast he appeared, he took his leave. The mage did not bother thanking, for the man was already gone, in his eyes.

There was a bit more chatter among the folk gathered around the warm flames, but nothing that truly tugged on V's strings of interest. Those were tugged by the woman sitting at the table he decided to join. "Indeed. I am the one who calls himself V. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" He would confirm his indentity to the blonde woman, as he placed a question of his own and took a sip of the golden liquid in the tankard. She was a mage, but was there something else that he was missing?

The woman sitting near him sighed as V took a sip of the liquid that had been brought for him. She then introduced herself proudly, her name resonating with a hint of royalty. Royalty that V could care less about. He was a little bit surprised to hear that Beira, too, was a mage of Errings Rising, but it was to be expected. The tattooed man usually only ventured out to gather muse or undertake Guild business. Otherwise he had the castle servants bring him any necessities that he needed. Especially after the foray to that cursed island with Kuro. His arm needed quite a bit of healing afterwards.

Beira also noted that it seemed reasonable to know about the other members of the Guild, which was indeed a reasonable thought. But V was not a member out of compassion or because he felt like the ideology behind the formation of such a Guild appealed to him. In a sense it did, but he had different motives. When the woman mentioned his eccentricity, he would smirk. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Beira." V would go over the pleasantry. "Indeed, I get told that a fair bit. Mostly because of my love for poetry." He would agree with Beira in a way, knowing that usually people gave him looks, whenever he recited verses out loud. Though he omitted his thoughts about the knowledge of one's Guild. That part was not necessary for her to know.

The tattooed man's superior hearing picked up on a strange sound. Sound that reminded him of ritualistic chanting one could witness when a mage in Bellum was performing a summoning rite. It brought back some of those cursed memories of jealousy and envy. The voices were somewhat unnerving, but he had no proof that the group of mysterious people sitting behind him were performing something ill. The blonde woman inquired about the reason behind V's visit. "I thought I could gather some muse in this lovely weather." The tattooed man would reply, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. He truly meant what he had said.

The man took an another sip of the golden liquid, when Beira suddenly quietly exclaimed, earning a confused slight tilt of V's head. He didn't see it as crude language, as the woman apparently did, but it seemed that she spotted something of importance to her with what he imagined were the chanting cultists. He was sure that he heard a tale of a woman going after an item that belonged to them, before. "If it is truly yours, I believe you are going to procure the item in question, yes?" V would ask in hushed voice, ensuring that the group would not hear him. Not that they would hear him over their chanting, either way. Beira also said that she felt an unknown form of doom approaching. Perhaps things would go further than just attempting to collect inspiration. "And I imagine that the procurement will not go as smoothly and easily as one would wish." He would add with a smirk written on his face, anticipating commotion to happen any moment. V's arm could use more time to recover, but he was prepared to spring into action. Very gingerly.

Beira seemed to prefer the option of a smoother acquiring of what could possibly be her item. The woman excused herself and stood up. V wasn't sure what she had on her mind, but he only followed the woman with his gaze. She walked towards the cultists who were still chanting. However, one of them looked up, but Beira then obstructed V's view of him, thus he couldn't see what was happening between them. On the other hand, the cultist that took notice of Beira seemed to have grabbed a cultist chanting next to them. Before V knew it, a dagger appeared in a flash, slitting the seized cultist's throat.

The tattooed man frowned, as he stood up, slightly alarmed. The locals seemed to be less than pleased, as blood began to form a circle around the gathering of the cultists, who kept on chanting through all of that. V sighed, as he reached out for his cane, only to see Beira attempt to approach the cloaked group. She was stopped in her tracks, but V didn't notice anything in the way. The man's gaze then slid down to the fully formed blood circle. Most likely the magic that was responsible for the protective wall. However, as the cultists continued to chant, a strange feeling of dread moved along V's spine. Perhaps it was the feeling of incoming doom that his Guildmate had mentioned before. Soon enough, the locals started to tremble in fear and then started to scream in absolute terror, as they ran around. V would wince at the screams and gather some of his energy. With a snap of his fingers he was covered by a protective layer of ice. A pre-emptive measure that V thought would come in handy really soon.

The inn patrons ran out of the building in screams and Beira yelled something. V was placing his cane on the floor, as the woman slammed her palm onto the floor. The wooden boards broke into pieces and the shockwave sent most of the cultists flying. V would shield his face with his free arm, as he was knocked back into his empty chair. He lost his footing a little, but managed to recover. Thankfully, the ice that covered his body absorbed the damage. However, the man, who was most likely the leader of the whole outfit of the cultists let out a mad laugh as he exclaimed that they had already summoned something he called the Abomination of the Deep. He wasn't allowed to finish his sentence, though, as a black tentacle pierced through his chest. Blood gushed out of his mouth and he just kept on laughing. A disturbing image that V would have to transform into a poem once he had some time to himself.

The tattooed man started to walk forward through the ruins of the floor, as he noticed that there was no more blood circle. Instead, it seemed to have transformed into a strange circle of pure blackness, from where the tentacle had appeared. The said tentacle was still present, along with the body of the cultist it had killed hanging on it. With a quick swoosh it disappeared into the darkness and the lifeless body flew with it.

After a few moments the strangest cry that V had ever heard echoed through the area, making V wince at the sensation. Then the creature pulled itself out of the black portal. It was rather sizeable, with a fish-like head and with prominent sharp teeth that filled its maw. The being eyed the two mages with its dead eyes. It was big enough to have to be hunched to fit into the room, but it didn't last long. Within a moment it straightened itself, breaking apart the inn's roof. The cold winter blizzard now had full reign over the inn. V's black hair was ruffled by the winds as the so-called Abomination of the Deep howled into the wind.

The tentacles quickly got to work, eliminating the cultists who haven't died by that point with swiftness rarely seen. There was one tentacle aimed at him as well, but Beira proved to be quite fast on her feet, as she dodged an attack aimed at herself and shoved a lonesome table at the tentacle that had it out for V. The woman noted that the creature most likely didn't to chat and the tattooed man was inclined to agree. "It is time to speak with actions, instead, then." The man would reply, as he gathered ice energy in his body. He would conjure an extremely sharp piece of ice. With a snap of his fingers it flung itself forward, aiming at one of the appendages. The edge of the ice cut through the tentacle, nearly severing it. Blood-like substance flowed from the large cut. The Abomination let out an another loud cry, as its attention focused on the two mages. "Let us take care of this mess, shall we?"

V was very glad to see that Beira was on board with getting rid of the otherworldly abomination. After the tattooed man showed his magic, the woman commented on it, making V smirk a little. Ice was indeed his element of... little choice, if he were to reflect on his past. The woman's fighting style included ice aswell, which revealed as to why she commented on V's usage of it. The smirk on his face only deepened. He took a few steps backwards, to maintain his distance he sorely needed.

Beira shaped the ice into a large blade and fought with a style that made V miss the days of old. Days when he could move freely without pain and fear of possibly messing up his joints or bones and fighting was a breeze. His fighting style was limitless, the only constriction being his own imagination. With the price he so foolishly paid, however, this wonderful limitlessness was broken, leaving him with only fragments of what he used to have.

The strength with which Beira made the summoned abomination kneel was to be envied. The man leaned against his cane, as the creature's tentacles sprung to life again, hitting Beira. he woman was not easily put down, however, as she quickly recovered and continued her assault. The creature sent two of its tentacles after its attacker, but the woman dodged them. However, she happened to be on the receiving end of a kick that broke her sword of ice. As she was flying backwards from the force of the kick, one of the tentacles reached out and grabbed her.

The nearly severed tentacle and an another one suddenly aimed at the tattooed man, who was attempting to keep a low profile. He conjured a blade of ice just to the side of him and jumped onto it. V dashed upon the blade to the side, dodging the attack of the tentacles, while shoving a few leftover chairs aside. The tentacles retracted as the creature stood up and got stabbed by Beira's icy spear. The tentacle let go of the woman, as the abomination attempted to get the piece of ice out of its disgusting maw.

The abomination was preoccupied, making it the prime time to attack. V would concentrate his energy and conjure four icicles behind his head. The would snap his fingers and the ice would fling themselves into the abomination. One of the icicles hit the already nearly severed tentacle, finishing the job. The rest of them jammed themselves into the creature, making it howl in pain. V was sure that the abomination would want to retaliate, so he conjured two icy doppelgangers. "Distract it." The tattooed man would command his clones, who ran off towards the creature's backside.

One tentacle swung at one of the clones, shattering it as the summoned abomination pulled out the spear of ice and crushed it. It howled, yet again, as the wind picked up, bringing in more snow from the blizzard. The creature seemed to be fully ready to retaliate and the tattooed man gathered and released a wave of a chilling aura around himself, aiming to making the creature more vulnerable, while stripping it of its magical strength, if it had any.

The act of creating an aura with debilitating properties seemed to have dragged attention to V, despite him wanting to keep low profile. The man was ready to dodge, though he wasn't sure how effective a dodge would be in his broken body, against an attack from a behemoth that stood before him. The creature lugged its way towards the tattooed man, ignoring his clone and the woman, but it didn't get far.

One of those, whom it ignored, made sure that it was stopped, before it could even think of doing something to the man. The abomination slumped to its knees once again with an incredibly loud screech, making V flinch and then wince at the intensity of the sound. Then, a horn of ice suddenly appeared from its chest, piercing its body. Strange blood splattered all over, some droplets making their way onto V's hair and hands aswell. The man grumbled, but he reckoned that his looks were the least of his problems in the given situation.

After that, V could hear flesh being torn apart. It was a sound which he could only attribute to Beira as its creator. The summoned creature was almost dead. The tentacles that were attached to its body were flailing around, but they were trying to reach behind it, rather than being fixated on the tattooed man as their primary target. A sword of ice protruded from its jaw, a final nail in its proverbial coffin. The abomination let out its last strange sound, before dissipating into a black mist. The mist itself then disappeared, along with everything else that belonged to the summoned creature was gone. Including its fluids, much to V's surprise. Beira seemed to have the same sentiment, though V would still opt for a shower, regardless.

The tattooed man clutched his cane and stood up with its support. All that was left was a destroyed establishment and a quieter blizzard. The woman took a look around and promptly found what she was looking for. Beira pondered about how the cultists could have gotten their hands on the item that belonged to her. However, something bothered V. In the air he could smell a faint trail of blood that led out of the inn. It could be only possibly linked to the cultists. The only one V had truly seen be killed, was their leader. "I know not how the group came upon your item, Beira." The tatooed man offered his lackluster answer.

There was something bothering him, though. Whatever happened to those screaming people who fled the scene? "Say, what do you reckon happened to those who ran away in fear?" He asked, the case of the missing cultists still weighing on his mind. "Then again, perhaps they aren't exactly the most important in this tale." The man would close his eyes in thought. "Would you be up for a cultist chase, instead?" V would correct his question. The appearance of that group of robed people was too strange not to follow further.

V gave his guildmate a choice and she chose to hunt down the wounded cultists. A good choice, if he had to say himself. As much as it would be interesting to see if the terror of the people who fled the scene had disappeared with the death of the abomination that caused it, a good old fashioned chase intrigued him just a little bit more. Besides, the whole situation of the summoning was truly something to behold, if not somewhat reminiscent of the time he used to look out of the window of his room in Bellum and wish he could be one of those mages out in the courtyard, practising magic arts.

Still, those memories were only just faded fragments and it was best that the man kept up with Beira, rather than wallowing in his past. V followed the woman, a faint scent of blood hanging in the air providing them with direction. Beira wasn't in a rush, most likely to accommodate for V's physical impairment, though he didn't feel it was necessary. He did appreciate the gesture, however. Soon enough they came across an almost perfectly hidden cave. The smell of blood was becoming stronger, concentrating around the cave's entrance, making it obvious as to where the fleeing cultists took refuge. The tattooed man gingerly made his way down the slope and entered the cave, along with Beira.

What V thought would be a simple cave, turned out to be an elaborate cave system of tunnels that snaked through the mountain in sharp twists and turns. With each passing step the smell of blood was becoming ever stronger. There was no way that such intensity of the smell would be caused by a handful of minor injuries. And soon enough that way of V's thinking was proven to be correct. The two mages entered a larger room with a number of corpses laying about. They were clad in robes, though with two different colour sets. One being black and red, the other being dark purple and blue. There were also signs of struggles, hinting that a fight must have taken place. The woman whispered something about the possibility of them stumbling upon a cult war, but V kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't know whether it was a war or just a great disparity between different opinions or something else.

Beira carefully made her way through the room and the tattooed man followed her, doing his best to stay as quiet as he could, to the point he lifted up his cane so that it wouldn't click along the way. However, as a result, V kept close to the side of the tunnel that led them further in. Beside the overwhelming smell of blood, voices could be heard echoing through the air. The tunnel led to an another larger opening, though there were ledges on the upper part of the tunnel. The woman quickly made use of them, V quietly keeping up with her.

They witnessed a bloody interaction between the two cultist groups with the black and red robed ones being stronger in numbers. V assumed that the dark-skinned elven woman who ended the cultist in dark purple robe was their leader. The tattooed man was still not sure as to what was happening, but once the fresh corpse was ordered to be disposed of, the woman turned towards the hiding place of the two mages. The woman was fixated on Beira, before she ordered their death. V's guildmate jumped down, attempting a more diplomatic approach. The tattooed man stayed put as Beira got rid of the first assailant.

V didn't feel comfortable jumping down. He was afraid that his bones would give out and he would not be able to walk out of the cave on his own. Thus he resorted to the thing he could do the best with his strange condition. The man gathered ice energy in his body and with a snap of his fingers he let it out, in an aura that would chill the cultists to their bones, lowering their magical resistance and strength. From his vantage point V noticed two more entrances in the room, besides the one through which he and Beira entered. He didn't know if there was a larger group of cultists stashed away in a different part of the cave system, but he would take a bit of a precaution. With an another energy gathering and finger snapping he conjured a wall of ice that he shaped in a way it blocked one of the other entrances. The mages still had an escape route ready with the first entrance, should they need it. V would quickly conjure a sharp shard of ice, that he then launched onto one of the cultists who were down in the room. He robed person didn't seem to be completely aware of their surroundings, as the piece of ice pierced through their shoulder, opening a large wound that promptly started to bleed. They shrieked in pain and fell to their knees. "Get the one up there!" They yelled, some of the attention shifting from Beira to V. The man frowned. Perhaps he should've just skewered the cultist with a barrage of icicles.

Even though the attention was brought to V, his guildmate took care of the remaining cultists with swift steps and even swifter execution. Although the attack of the elf was a most unfortunate case of an attack backfiring on her. The moment of the blade she called back skewering her enticed a chuckle out of the tattooed man. Beira went on to study the fallen and V leaned against the stone, with his back to the room, to alleviate some of the pressure on his joints. That tiny moment of respite was quickly interrupted by sounds of struggle from down below. The man turned around on his heel, to peek out from behind the rocky formation.

There was now a man, pressed against the wall of the cave room and he exchanged a few words with Beira. It seemed that the man belonged to the Magic Council, of which V was sort of aware. They did oversee mages and Guilds and their business, but could not equate to the power the Council of Archmages in Bellum held. However, something about the encounter felt strangely off. Something permeating through the air was attempting to dull V's senses, making him frown. It could very well disrupt his abilities, but the mage reckoned that his mind was stronger than the something. If only it could dull the pain in his bones.

From clouds of shadow that appeared around the room, more robed individuals appeared, seemingly intent on getting their point across, that the intruders were most definitely not wanted. Beira had her band of cultists to deal with and V had his own little group of three to deal with. They were clad in both colour schemes, armed with various ornamental weaponry. Two of the cultists charged at him, with one of them staying behind, most likely with the idea of using magic or perhaps even healing the front assailants. The tattooed man would theatrically sigh, as he built up a force of ice in his body. "I suppose I can't have a fair lady do all the fighting. Would be a travesty." The man said as he snapped his fingers and four icicles conjured behind him and threw themselves into the incoming enemies.

Two icicles for each of the two charging cultists. One of the cultists was quite sloppy, unable to dodge the skewering, but the other seemed to have much better reflexes, as only one of the icicles made contact, as they jumped way forward to avoid the piece of ice. The tattooed man was unfortunate enough to have an engraved blade slash through his right upper arm. He winced as pain surged through his body, only amplifying the previous as he dropped his cane with a loud sound of metal hitting stone. Seeing as it was seemingly the right time to continue tearing his body apart, ice covered his left fist and he drove it into the cultist's head that still hovered above him. That was enough to make the cultist drop onto the floor, only for V to be jumped by the last cultist that had previously stayed behind. They held a vial with a dark purple, murky liquid that they promptly smashed over the dark mage's head. The liquid gave off no smell, but the skin that wasn't covered by his leather vest promptly started to burn and deepened the feel of dullness.

It was most definitely going a wee bit overboard, but V conjured an another set of icicles, wanting to ensure the cultist's demise. The dark mage took a few shaky steps back, as the cultist attempted to grab V, but unsure of what was the motivation behind the motion. The barrage of icicles made short work of the robed individual, as the tattooed man gasped for air. His arm was bleeding, his skin was quite possibly being melted off of his person and he was also most likely poisoned in some capacity aswell. Thank goodness he had just the perfect remedy. A calming wave of ice energy washed over him and he felt the burning, as well as the dullness fading away. The man straightened himself up and placed his hand upon the bleeding wound. Ice energy flowed through it, partially closing it. However, once the adrenaline started to subside, V felt his knees begin to shake and pain shoot up his left arm. Little souvenirs from the fight. The man gingerly bent down and picked up his cane that he had carelessly dropped before. He would take a few deep breaths, until his knees weren't as shaky, once he headed downwards, into the room.

As soon as he made his way into the room itself, Beira invited the man to venture forward, through the entrance that he left opened. The man nodded, not to keen on spending energy on a useless confirmation. On the ground level there was a partially damaged frozen figure, among other corpses. As the tattooed man passed by, he briefly looked over it, to marvel at the magnificent ice. It was similar in quality to his own and yet so different at the same time.

V noticed that Beira wasn't faring the best, but he knew that he couldn't do much for her. The stony passage was empty, save for the sound of their footsteps. Until the mages came upon a fork in the passage system. As if the labyrinth inside the mountain couldn't get more complicated and deeper. They blindly chose one of the paths, until strange cries, which Beira identified as a cry of dark elves, could be heard from the side of the other passage and the two mages promptly changed their direction. The tattooed man was starting to feel quite exhausted, a lot of his magical power spent, as well as the ever more agonizing pain that pulsated through his body. He did his best to keep up with his guildmate.

After passing a bend in the passageway, the area opened up a bit again, and yet again, it was filled with an another group of cultists, which seemed to be strong in numbers, as well as an another creature from the presumed deep. The abomination had a general human shape, but most of the features were anything but. There were still tentacles involved in the design, this time, however, they were coming out of where its mouth was supposed to be. And even more surprisingly, it spoke up, ordering the death of the two intruders as it pointed at them.

The number of cultists was something that worried V, considering his diminished form. He wasn't sure how Beira was feeling, but if she wasn't getting exhausted by her tougher fighting, then he surely had greatly underestimated the woman's capabilities. The man grit his teeth, as he built up ice energy, once more. With a snap of his fingers, a solid wall of ice would appear a few steps ahead of the two mages. It left some space above and to the sides, but V didn't think the cultists would be able to scale the ice to climb over. The same couldn't be said for the otherworldly abomination. The man would sigh in exasperation, sneaking a peek at his guildmate as he fully leaned on his cane for support. "We have a few moments to ourselves, before they realise they can go around it." The man would chuckle in a hushed voice, as he reached out with his free hand and gave a bit of his flourishing ice energy to Beira, to help with the healing process of her own wounds. It wasn't much, but he hoped it would provide a bit of a pick up for the woman. "I shall be honest. I am quite exhausted and I don't know how you are feeling, Beira." The man would continue, as he weighed the few options they had. "Let us make short work of them, shall we?" He would smirk, despite his growing exhaustion as the sound of shuffling of robes grew closer.

The tattooed man was glad that he was able to provide a tiny bit of respite for his guildmate, despite how little it really was. Though he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be glad or worried that Beira was similarly exhausted as him. They had a great fight ahead of them and they would need every tiny bit of strength they could muster. However, the woman seemed to be already trying to work out how to approach their dire predicament. Unfortunately, there wasn't much time for them to discuss the plan of action. The wall of ice V had conjured cracked and then shortly after shattered, the shards of ice falling down onto cave stone floor. The dark made took a little step back. The wall wasn't among the strongest of spells in his arsenal, but its strength was still supposed to be more than enough to stop their opponents. For a bit longer than it had, at least. It meant that somebody or something was quite strong and that the two mages would have to be extremely careful.

The abomination they had seen mere moments ago was standing behind where the wall of ice used to be. The tattooed man frowned, now wary of the strength of the disfigured creature. Beira asked V whether he had seen this mindflayer before and he couldn't say he had. Though he was very much positive that the mages of Bellum weren't opposed to summoning a being such as the one that was standing before them. All behind closed doors, of course. However, they had more trouble on their hands. The cultists that were trapped behind the wall of ice were starting to make their way through its remains, but all of a sudden, they stopped. From behind of the dark mages, V could hear approaching footsteps from behind them. As fast as the wall had shattered, the two mages found themselves surrounded by two cultist groups.

Getting surrounded was the last thing V would have wanted, but it seemed his guildmate already had an idea in her mind. A screech of command could be heard, before the cultist charged forward and Beira grabbed V and pulled him into a crack in the cave wall. His body protested the sudden movement, but V only grit his teeth through it. Once they were safe within the crack, the woman chanted a quick spell, which provided a bit of light, as well as healed some of the wounds that have piled up on V's body. What was strange, however, was a sudden presence of whispers. The woman seemed to be well acquainted with them, telling the tattooed man not to mind them. He couldn't say he enjoyed their presence, but as long as they didn't affect his focus, he would tolerate them.

Even though the two dark mages were no longer in the larger room, the sounds of fighting and struggling gave away that the cultists didn't simply stop their charge, once the mages disappeared. However, they were no longer their concern, as V and Beira headed ever further inside the mountain. One would think that they may be getting close to the centre of the world itself. Eventually the passage turned into a smooth tunnel, that was quite unlike the scenery they had been exposed to up to then. The man was heavily relying on his cane to push him forward. At least the path wasn't too long. An ominous light illuminated the end of the tunnel, which led into an another spacious room.

Unlike the previous rooms, however, this one had a table with a corpse of an another abomination sprawled across it, as well as its insides, besides the general luxurious look. Upon the table was placed an orb, of sorts. What its purpose was, however, he couldn't tell. Besides the table there was also a throne, upon which a dark elf lady was seated, her gaze set upon the new arrivals. The woman greeted them and Beira seemed surprised at her presence. The elven woman rose from her throne as she confirmed her identity. V's guildmate turned to him, providing a brief set of information and the man took mental note of them. "A person from the past, hmm.." The tattooed man mused to himself, quietly. If he had met somebody from his own past, he most likely wouldn't be able to hold himself back. Even if it was Rhew, his demonic mentor.

There was a little back and forth, between Beira and Aelyd, before Beira was yanked upwards, into the air, with magical chains that then bound her legs, aswell. V was going to move forward, but strange force prevented him from doing so. He bumped into a translucent wall, making him wince a little. The man would frown, worried and frustrated about the ease, with which the elven woman was able to separate the two mages. Beira loudly protested, as her elven friend looked over V's form, noting his frailty. The man stayed quiet, not keen on giving out information about himself. Beira then screamed in pain, making V grit his teeth. An another little exchange happened between the women, before the tattooed man would attempt his escapade.

The dark mage would gather ice energy into his free hand. He would form a fist with it and swing at the translucent wall. Unfortunately, his fist would be stopped short, sending a sharp jolt of pain up his arm. The man would groan, but there was one little thing he noticed. While his fist was indeed stopped, tiny specks of ice would fly through. If his ice could get through, maybe there was hope, yet. The spells were becoming rather draining, but it had to be done. The elven lady most likely didn't seem too impressed with the display of V's strength, but the man would snap his fingers once more. "This isn't over yet." The man tattooed man would growl, as a large wave of ice would conjure in front of him and travel along the ground in line in ahead of him. The wave would be aimed at the dark elf, but also managing to reach the table. The ice would then crack down the middle, ripping apart items caught in it. The table, the corpse. Both would be split by a sudden force. The third item, the peculiar orb, would find itself within the ice aswell and succumb to its force, shattering into pieces.

The dark skinned elven woman explained her intentions in extensive length, but whatever else she had to say after V's distasteful attempt to break out of the translucent walls would never be known. Once the ruptured ice shattered the table, along with the corpse and the orb, the chains that bound Beira and the walls that surrounded the tattooed man disappeared. The dark elf turned her attention to V, attempting to conjure a spell. The dark mage was fully leaning on his cane, which left him open to any attack, whilst not having the strength to dodge. Thankfully, V's guildmate was fast enough to retaliate, despite being only just released from her hold. The woman caught one of the tools that were sent flying from V's previous attack.

The metal part of the tool swiftly found its mark in the dark skinned lady's neck. The woman attempted to move, but her body fell to the ground within moments, with blood slowly starting to pool around her. Beira noted that the orb the man had shattered was probably the reason behind the presence of the Magic Council. The tattooed man would sigh in relief, as the rush of the running and fighting started to subside and revealed the full extent of the pain his body was going through. He would grit his teeth as his limbs started to shake from both pain and exhaustion. V felt incredibly drained, almost ready to collapse on the spot. When Beira suggested leaving the place, the tattooed man had no objections. "I very much agree with you. I fear that we would not have gotten past there 'Old Ones', unless they felt benevolent." The dark mage would agree to the woman's plan, gathering his strength to push himself to take steps towards the doorway at the other end of the room. His eyes spied a staircase leading upwards that would be their way out of the wretched mountain's bellows. "Let us make haste."