"I'll slow you down" Rono said, but Niniva was already going.

Moving his focus to the fight, it already began. It was suprising to him that Gunnar was a former knight, one of Gavaroche even. It was slightly odd of him to think of another's past instead what is transpiring now, but what else he could do but stand by as Damocles and Gunnar fought? He folded his arms, and continued to watch the fight, as a silent spectator.

"Foul creatures, using one of your own as a decoy while another slips away! You are a knight as well as the leader of your group, yet you rely upon cowardly tactics!"

With these words, Niniva's careful steps turned to frantic stride as she dashed forward on-course for the Keep. Her head ducked, her cloak flapping in the whiplash behind her as she sprinted through the flora, making her way up the hill by her lonesome while pillowing up fallen leaves and loose dirt. The group-based assault had now turned into another soloist act.

Whence reaching the top of the hill, Niniva looked back towards the men at its base, overseeing their conflict. "Damocles is doing this for my sake.. so that i may go fulfill the objective.. I can't let him down.." Niniva turned her face forward, looking over the lavish keep that stood affirm. It was time to forgo her cloak concealing herself.. it would only get in the way of infiltration.

Making sure to remove Damo's seal from the cloak first, Niniva pried her fingers upon the fabric of the garment and flung it off herself in one fluid movement, letting it get caught in the winds, it sailed off into the night. From atop the hill, perhaps a wayward eye could see her figure illuminated in the moonlight.

A sleeved one-piece leather suit with a series of three belts strapped in to cover over the stomach area. Each belt features iron buckles and plating along their bands; upon the chest region, rising from underneath the belts, a slim breast plate pans over the bosom and inverts to its point at the base of the collar. The plate seems ingrained with the leather underneath it. Thin, inbuilt, pipes stretch from either side of the plate and go along to meet together in the back. The sleeves stretched down towards elbow length and feature no armor.

The lower half of the suit is sparsely armored compared to the upper half, the only plating lies along the lower thighs. Like the body-plate, these feature small pipes going around to meet one another in the back. the leggings themselves stretch down to ankle length. Making the full suit go from ankle to mid-neck.

Leather long-gloves with marginal plating upon the back of the hand areas and along the wrists towards the end of the gloves where they meet with the sleeves of the suit. Upon either of the over-handed plates, lies in red markings, A foreign arcane seal.

Finally, she wore a pair of knee-high, buckled, steel toed boots. Every piece of leather of this outfit is tinted black, whereas every piece of metal is tinted dark violet.

If there was any questioning it before, it was now an obvious fact -- Niniva most certainly was under the employment of rather dubious affiliations, or in the least, was at one time.

The seal she had been given sat snug at her side, latched onto a belt. 'Delivery for a Princess..' She reminded herself, continuing her stride forward towards the keep whilst remaining low to the ground, sticking by shrubs and scattered tree's, she closed in on the massive structure, green hair flowing across her cheeks, hazel eyes sifting over the stronghold she would be attempting to subvert, looking for any possible points of entry.

((Someone get Kiki to post ))

Even thought the first ring of the keeps defences were supposed to be impregnable, even then, a lock pick circumvented the back door pretty easily, the inner circle that over looked the garden paled in comparison to the buttresses and walls of the outer ring. Over looking the garden was a grand platform. It served as a place to rally airborne troops and serve as a terrace if one was so inclined to have a meal above the magnificent garden below. There was a small door where the platform's sheer edge met the garden of course. It was the only way in the keep, or so the Lexmadans thought. The platform was scalable if one bothered to move the sides of the keep where the inner and outer walls were only an arm's length apart. After all, the outer wall shaped like an oval, and in the centre was the actual keep itself and if viewed from above, bore a likeness to the human eye. Unlike the dulled, and mossy granite of the outer rings, the keep was build of a finer white stone that was kept as near immaculately as possible. Another indicator of Lexmadan opulence.

From the platform rose another small set of ledges. They were actually gutters but for anyone with a good amount of acrobatic and climbing skills, would lead to other less well guarded glass windows and window sills. Not to say the platform itself was well guarded already. The current company of aerial troops had already taken to the skies and would not be back until the battle was over, unless they were dead, in which case they would return on their shields. As such nobody would expect it if anyone came in through the three giant arches that allowed the great beasts of the air to pass through.

Thunder roared and the winds blew violently, as Sanskrit chuckled. The pint sized lizard had nerve, he would give him that, but that was all. He was the sultan of the skies, no one told him what he had or had no right to. The cloud's wide mouth opened in a roar, blew seamlessly into a round "O". There was a point of utter silence as the wind stopped momentarily, the calm of the storm, Sanskrit blew relentlessly at the small spirit. Shingles were ripped off of roofs, trees bent unnaturally under the force of the wind, decorative urns, and pottery were smashed as they were flown into walls, showering the ground with the earthen shards. Lightning raced through the clouds threatening to strike down at anyone who flew close enough to the large mass of clouds that refused to move along as other normal storms did.

"Youthful spirit hold your tongue" said Sanskrit in a chiding tone.

__________________________________

Abi stopped in mid-stride at the sound of an approaching stranger. She felt like a tense trap ready to spring at any moment, was it an ally, or was it a foe? Preparing to roll her crystal ball into the palm of her hand she watched as the handle turned, the governor-general entered the room. Her shoulders sagged slightly with relief, though she still felt an intense tension, perhaps it was the very nature of Sanskrit's windstorm. She was slightly worried that Sanskrit might lose control, and eternally bury the city in sand, as many of the ancient kingdoms in the past had been. The thought was quite frightening in reality.

The governor-general told the princess that her giant had died in the destruction at St. Sira. Abi cast a sidelong glance at the girl, instead of seeing her collapsing at the loss of her comrade as she had expected, a burning hope seemed to emanate from the princess. She boldly, and assuredly told the governor-general that her knight was still alive. She said it in such a way that even Abi, who wasn't usually one for hope, believed that Damocles was alright. It made her wonder where he was currently. Perhaps after the governor-general had left she would do some searching with her crystal ball.

The governor-general turned to her with an air of some sort of expectancy. She blinked once, not entirely sure what he expected from her, until she realized stupidly that he was probably waiting to answer any questions she had. Immediately feeling important, a sense that she had not felt in quite a long time while in the presence of the princess, and especially when with Sanskrit. "Well" she started "Is there any chance that we can defeat the enemy army?" she began to walk around the room "If not" she continued "Are there any ways that the princess can escape easily?" She turned around and retraced the path she had been walking "What about personal guards for this room? Are they proficient in both magical as well as physical combat? Where would we go if we did have to escape?" She placed her finger on her chin, she did have a whole bunch of other questions, like whether they would have the proper amount of supplies, how long they could hold off the witch, etc. However she didn't feel the need to ask, especially at the present moment. The governor-general had probably a lot more to do than converse with young girls.

What an annoying geezer Mumm'ra thought as the winds buffeted him, sending him rolling along an unstable current air. Scraping along rooftops and the cobble stones, he quickly picked himself up, not losing a single moment to stop. As the geezer had suggested, he'd hold his tongue, but that was because communication between the two was unnecessary. If the Djinn was still lingering about by noon tomorrow, Mumm'ra had half a mind to bring the old man low. He was the Salamander of the Sun and hence, in the league of kings. One simply does not mistake youth for powerlessness.

Circling the keep with once more, Mumm'ra reached out and felt the temperature of everyone in the keep, homing in on the two most powerful mages before he slowly engulfed himself in to a cocoon of flame. To a passer by, it looked like a fireball struck the keep and did no damage at all. But to anyone attuned to magic, Mumm'ra had only changed form. Though his element was that of fire, his true form was that of heat, much like the heat of the Sun. The corridor he was in would have barely had time to heat up before he spread himself out as far as possible, masking his presence and making the surrounding area no hotter than it already was. As he spread, he started to map out the castle and the positions of any noteworthy rooms. The Princess and the summoner should have been in different rooms but as he approached, he found them standing side by side, talking to a man. Undoubtedly, these were the two most powerful magicians in the whole keep and his continued presence would give him away. Thus, he slunk away like an eel ready to rejoin Damocles to appraise him of the situation inside the keep.

---

A flurry of questions assaulted the Governor-General. Lady Jasraj was a talkative woman with a lot on her mind apparently. He swiped his palm across his forehead as he started answering her questions.

"Lady Jasrasj, this is the City of St. Joachim. It will never fall from an enemy attack, especially one this tiny," he said confidently and paused again, "Admittedly it is the Mistress of the Summer Blaze at the head of it all, and we have already called for reinforcements. Worse come to worse, I have reserved a small contingent of men as escorts. They may not be the best mages and fighters as the best are currently indisposed of at the moment, but they should hold long enough to allow you to escape. On that topic, the only functioning sand ship is currently being refuelled and rearmed to prepare for your journey. It would be faster his royal Highness would lend us his personal transport but until then I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

Well that was a mouthful. The Governor-General certainly did not expect to go on at lengths but at least if it was well received he'd look good later. He spoke one last time to them,

"Now, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave, if you have anything else you wish to tell me at a later time, please ask a guard to bring to me."

Bowing, he turned and left the room.

Gunnar felt the cold steel press up against his neck. He was not planning on dying with his precious inside that keep. Though in truth, he still was not even sure if what the Lexmadians told him about the thing most precious was true or not. If he died, he would never know the truth hidden by those dogs. He loosened his grip on the massive blade, allowing it to fall upon the grassy knoll.

"The power of Gavaroche's elite knights," he began to mutter. "I had forgotten that after all these years of pain. It is not Gavaroche that has grown stronger to defeat me, but the blade of my being that has begun to chip away. I can picture of faces of them, the nobles, laughing at my inability to protect not just my charge, but my body itself." Gunnar looked up into Damocles' face. "In you I see the lack of pity that they held before me, right before I was exiled."

He moved his body a bit, the blade of his opponent slowly ripping the weak flesh of his throat. It was not on purpose, and he grew surprised as it began to open up. It was only a slight wound, and the blood was slowly dripping out. He had wounds much worse than this, but any movement from Damocles' blade would spell the end for his middle-aged soul.

"Damocles Methusaleh, make your decision hastily. This blood is that of Gavaroche, albeit it is one of a man disowned by his own home, could you still shed to the blood of a fellow countryman? I would not fault a man for deciding to kill me, but there is something I must uncover. If you wish to kill me, please delay it until I enter that keep to find what is so precious to me." It was a shallow plea from a deep man like Gunnar, but it was all he could do at a decisive moment such as this.

((I didn't exactly mean to slice your neck with the short sword actually. I meant the the bone of the forearm could be described as a blade but I guess that's just sloppy writing on my part. I'll go with it.))

Blood of a brother, a comrade-in-arms and a fellow countryman. Clemency was always what Damocles showed towards another of Gavaroche, even if it was a deserter deserving capital punishment. Oh, his brother would surely be mocking him if he saw this. The sword was drawn away but still in hand. There was no way to fully trust Gunnar but at least if Damocles could use the extra sword arm, then all the better.

"If you're loyalty to Gavaroche had never wavered, then perhaps you will find what you seek, but even then I doubt it," Damocles said, "I will only offer you this once as I never had the intention to kill you. You will come with me on one condition; that you walk and stand beside me as an equal."

With that, he offered his chain gloved hand.

((I often misread this kind of stuff. It came off as a checkmate move to me.))

"If my loyalty had wavered, I would have killed a man a Gavaroche not because I was hired to, but out of pure malicious intentions. Though they have given up on me, I will never give up on my birthland." Gunnar replied, a serious tone throughout. He truly doubted, however, that he could even subdue Damocles. His age had began to catch up with him, and the loss of two vital tools, along with the pain the wounds carried, left him feeble, like a rookie.

He reached out for the knight's hand, leaning against his strength to propel himself up from the grassy knoll. He stabled himself and picked his sword from the ground.
"If you desire easy access into the keep, I can be of some assistance. I have little clearance, but enough to actually enter." He began. "Though, it's a shame that we will have to part temporarily, as I must find what is so precious to me inside that keep."

((Not much today, tired after failing a geometry test. I hate math.))

"Then that shall be enough, Gunnar Regis," Damocles replied.

Taking a step towards the keep, Mumm'ra materialised in from of him. The spirit still as dark as Damocles remembered. This time, his humanoid form looked a bit battered, no doubt having had an encounter with something high up in the sky that Damocles could hardly see. The winds started to pick up and he urged Rono and Gunnar forward towards the keep as he talked to the elemental spirit.

"Have you found her?" he asked.

Mumm'ra nodded.

"There is one last thing I need to ask of you then Mumm'ra," Damocles said and pointed towards a vague figure scaling the castle, "Assist her as much as you can, then the rest is up to us, and your master."

The spirit nodded and disappeared from his sight, literally.

The battle was over, with Gunnar joining the ranks. Rono was slightly glad now there was someone else along. Damocles urged him and Gunnar to come, which he did.

((I have nothing))

Gunnar silently walked alongside Damocles as they headed in the direction of the keep. The gash in his neck was continually spewing blood in a controlled manner, but it was a small inconvenience for the man, even though it might cost his life if he let it flow like that for a prolonged period. All he could set his mind on was what was in that keep. They were hiding something from him, and he was desperate to discover it.
His bloodied sword was slung over his shoulder. It had not drawn blood to speak of in the last confrontation, as Damocles adeptly protecting himself, but it instead of covered with small quantities of his own scarlet fluid.

Lucasta opened her eyes to find herself in a foreboding stone room with little lighting. She was sitting in a small wooden chair, and when she attempted to stand up from it, she discovered that her arms were bound at the wrist around the back. She whimpered through the cloth stuffed in her mouth to prevent awareness of her presence to reach to others in the keep. It was supposedly a tactic to keep the princess from realizing that she was the only one there.
Lucasta looked around the room, but to her dismay, could not spot Gunnar. She began to wonder if after they had been separated, he had left the city without knowing she was gone, or even that he had stopped caring about her and just left her here purposely.

Though, it was the opposite, as Gunnar was actually searching for her.

((You know what Green Mage? You're not putting in enough effort, so how about something life threatening to get you to write a bit more?))

They never got a few dozen paces before Damocles and Rono stumbled upon some guards. Being in the middle of a siege, people tended to act first and then ask questions later. Their swords were drawn and they were bound forward as one hailed for reinforcements. Damocles had anticipated this. All he needed to do was show them his seal, if he could get it out of his pockets before he was spit in two that is. Both his hands were occupied searching so he had to rely on Rono, Gunnar having separated at the entrance.

"Oi lad, keep 'em busy for me a bit," Damocles said and roughly shoved Rono in front of him.

The first guard had his sword raised as he ran, intent on cutting down the intruders.

Rono let out a small grunt, and nearly stumbled. It was probably justified, Gunnar went somewhere else, and presumably Damocles had some plan that had him busy. Already, a guard charged, his sword raised. Rono met him head on.

He sent a wild kick at the guard, and at the same time, drew his sword and a pistol at the same time. He backed away, raising his sword horizontally defensively, and the gun readied on it. He wouldn’t shoot anyone of course, but it should give some reluctance to them.

Tumbling backwards, another guard caught him and by the time they had turned around, they stood face to face with a pistol. Even if they had shields, it would be useless at this range. One would take a hit whilst the other rushed to an uncertain victory. The only thing they could do now was to stall for time. There were plenty of other guardsmen to ambush the intruders from behind now that the alarms had been raised. Their gaze wore a mask of contempt as they slowly moved to block the hallway in front of the intruders.

---

In a corridor that headed in the opposite direction, Gunnar ran along until two guardsmen came around the corner.

"Gunnar! There are intruders in the keep, go find and deal with them!" a guard shouted.

It didn't seem suspect that Gunnar was inside the keep, after all, he was allowed to walk along the lower floors nowhere near the command centre. Well there were the dungeons and the prisoner tower but no one inside them held any interest for such a mercenary. Or so they thought, after all, they were only lowly guardsmen and not the one who recruited Gunnar in the first place.

---

Mumm'ra found Niniva scaling the side of the keep.

"My Mistress beckons, so let me give you some advice," he said quickly as he hovered beside her, "On the fourth window on your right is a corridor. That corridor should have a small arch that leads to a thief taker room. In there you should find a map and whatever you may need. The Princess is in the West prisoner tower, in one of the rooms. I can imagine Damocles causing a ruckus to divert attention so time is of some essence. Now I must depart until the battle is won."

With his task accomplished, Mumm'ra flew off in to the flames of the town which suddenly became alive like a blaze that achieved sentience.

((That should keep things moving along nicely.))

Gunnar lifted his broadsword from his shoulder, defying the orders of the guard. He did not want to risk his life while he was so close to finding it, but his cover would have been blown when he went outside as well. He could easily decapitate both the guards in an instant, if it came to that situation.

"Where might it be that I can be granted access to the upper floors?" He calmly asked. "I must speak with the man who hired me."

His heart was racing, and the blood running down his neck, staining his clothing, added to his intimidating stance. It was his old Paladin bloodthrist acting up again; the same type of adrenaline rush he felt during his intense missions. He had barely changed over the twenty years he had given up the title, still the man not reluctant to warfare.
He watched for their weapons. If they were even remotely logical, they wouldn't attempt a fight with a man thirsting for blood.