King of Stormgarde 2

Battle.

It's ugly and brutal, to be sure, and fighting hs been going on for hours now. THe Exiled Ones, these Dark Iron Dwarves, have been fighting the bulk of the army. A great many casualties have been taken, despite your efforts, in the storming of the castle's central halls, but even then, they're falling one by one. Strangely, they don't really seem to mind all that much as each one is cut down. Even though these pale, colorless Khazad are few in number, they're outsized in their ability to inflict punishment on the royalist forces. Inexorably, progress is made and the central keep is breached in a conflict against construct and Khazad, and the few remaining Panceans who feel they've made ther beds and need to lie in it.

Sometime in the evening, an image appears over the battlefield. It bears the face of Vepps, who begins speaking: 

"We were working together -- us, the girl from Charn, and Forgehome. Forgehome had ties to Dran, and we brought us an entreaty from Arendt. That's where the coup was born. We were going to overthrow the King of the Dwarves and the King of Stormgard, and together, we'd reshape...remake the north. It wasn't supposed to go like /this/. We had eyes and ears everywhere. Everything was going according to plan. The king's were supposed to be incapciated, not killed. I don't even know for sure they're alive. The regencies would've... it's irrelevant, now. Forgehome, the Pancea's wealth, it all came from deep beneath the earth. He and Arendt, apparently, go way back. They travelled underneath the earth and found a treasure which gave birth to both of them, and I'm guessing, now, that treasure came from the othr dwarves, the pale ones. And that's not even getting to the girl from Charn." Itss Vepps continues his story, his features grow subtly more demonic. Suggestions of a reddish glow--though nothing overt:

"The girl from Charn wasn't working for Charn, of course. She just made things for us, for all of us. Communication devices, bugs, things to help us plan...She was just a slip of a thing. Couldn't be older than thirteen or fourteen years old." Through it all, his face is unrepentant. It suggests cruelty.

"She was pale and cold as ice. I thought she might be undead the firt time I saw her, but she... looked too alive for it."

"There were bugs everwhere, we planted them. could communicate with the tokens, but I suspect you know that now. Then Forgehome triggered things too early. I think they have the Kings -- the dark dwarves. He had a deal with them none of us knew about to make himself King of Dun Mordren. Stormgard was played." Vepps' eyes shine with villany. While this does make people look up and mutter (and several Stormgardian warriors present are demanding 'hangings' and 'blood eagles' and various other painful punishments for the traitor whose face has been magically put up above them), for the most part, their focus is the battle. Finally, the various groups begin to reemerge from their distinct parts of the battle. The King of Stormgard, accompanised by Tatyannah, Elessa, Yngvild, Abrahil and Melora links up with the order of battle, the primary force that had been lead up to this point by Evelyn Stonehammer but is presently being lead by some of her lesser known subordinates, as things continue. Interestingly, a few bodies belonging to the pale dwarves are found -- and they're even more bloodless looking than normal. One doe not have to speculate very hard that the hand of Thul's Chosen, the vampire known as Bartos, was involved in their deaths. Seems he's degined to lend a hand as well.

Finally, the doors to the great hall lay before you. 

Numerous dwarven council members, nobles, are being brought through the lines by others, being tended to by Kira and Sophia, with Ezriya, Duncan, Azog and Kiroth, as well as Stjepan, Rakim, Fayde and Charlotte escorting them behind the lines -- which no doubt some of them work to rejoina fterwards. 

Everything in Dun Mordren's battle now comes down to this moment; this one moment facing a large, metal and engraved pair of double doors. Forgehome has to be beyond them.

Silmeria leans heavily against Aldean, one hand coming up to close a nasty cut on the bard's arm. For her part, she doesn't look terribly much better; no matter how much of a hit-and-run fighter one is, nobody comes out of a pitched battle like this one unscathed. Wiping the blood from a long slash on her forehead away from her eye, the Inquisitor draws in a deep breath. "Are we ready, then?"

Aldean's among the many staring up at the double doors, more than a little banged up and bloodsoaked, sweat glistening off the sides of his face in the dim dwarven lights. There's determination there, yes, but something else as well -- something meditative -- and he looks around him only briefly, lips moving soundlessly. Then, he begins to hum a snatch of tune -- somtehing -- almost to himself. Something no one here has heard before. "FOR ANGORON AND STORMGARDE" booms Yngvild's voice over the chaos of the battlefield. For those used to her being cheerfully loud and boisterous she presents something of a terrifying sight, her towering armored figure head to toe in blood and gore. Not wearing a helm there are streaks of it across her pale skin and her eyes burn with a bright azure light. She stands towards the forefront of the Stormgarde nobles, and just ahead of her King. Svarshan stares up at the floating, illusary head for a while, then focuses hard ahead. He's covered in blood and wound, though some of it heals as they walk. Srassha walks with long strides, looking too-excited, too-alert after the day they've all had. "Home. Ssoon," he says roughly. He looks at Silmeria and Aldean, at other faces there and goes quiet. Another rush of the Dragonfather's warmth--burning somehow, and angry as the Sun he also represents, eases wounds and bruises.

Aldean's among the many staring up at the double doors, more than a little banged up and bloodsoaked, sweat glistening off the sides of his face in the dim dwarven lights. There's determination there, yes, but something else as well -- something meditative -- and he looks around him only briefly, lips moving soundlessly. Then, he begins to hum a snatch of tune -- somtehing -- almost to himself. Something no one here has heard before. The music stops, though, and he looks down at the hand closing the cut on his arms, and flashes her a winning grin. "Dunno 'bout ye, but I be ready to throw this rat's arse in the magma river an' be after findin' a bit o' sunshine."

Kevan was originally with the teleporting group that assaulted the cannons, the one the queen sent. During the fight he got seperated but has finally gotton out of whatever situation he was in. After staring up and listening to the floating head, he nods to himself and looks around for anyone he might recognize....which is pretty much no one.

"This is so wonderful! Such HEROISM!" Abrahil says. He hangs behind Yngvild, behind the Warrior's robes. A glance up at the illusion above, and he wriggles his fingers. It begins to replay. Munch walks with those of the King, his massive axe Reaver out and ready. The pair have seen a lot of battle today, and are pretty content with the violence. Meaning not only is the golem well bloodied, he's also covered in his own internal fluids, lending an acidic tang to the air. Kravar runs his fingertips over a gash on the rim of his shield. It must have been a mighty blow indeed to have marred the heavily enchanted wood. Then he looks up. "I'm ready," he affirms, now reaching ever his shoulder to pull his Sun blade out of the sheath across his back. In truth he's been healed and injured and healed again so much over the last hour he's starting to feel a little light-headed, but he doesn't want to miss the end of this. Something occurs to him. "Who is this girl Vepps speaks if? The 'girl from Charn'...?" For his part Rakim is rather more discrete than many charging through the battle. The elegant and slender inquisitor flits from cover to cover, his crossbow singing out as he sends bolts towards strategic targets as he lingers around the back.

       Melora is keeping to the side of the King of Stormgarde, and she looks angrier than normal...and that's saying something. Her axe and shield as well as armor are bloody as hell, and it all seems to be other's blood, not hers. She seems to have been a little lucky in her endeavors to rescue the king. With Yngvild's booming voice, the only sound Melora makes....is the sound of her axe hitting her shield. *BAM! BAMBAM! BAM! BAMBAM!* and she continues it.

Charlotte strides up with the rest of the nobles. Her Long strides easily letting her keep up with the dwarven nobles. However, she hangs back a little bit to smile at Abrahil, somehow knowing that the illusion was his doing. "Good work. Show the dwarves what a scumbag Vepps is." She says as she wipes off her sword with a kerchief. She knows her duty isn't done yet. Fayde is walking behind Svarshan and Srassha, his left hand flickering with bright silvery flame as he gazes around at the sundered splendour of his surroundings. His expression is much more reserved as he isn't positive about this place. So much excitement and boisterousness, he feels out of place amidst it. His right hand is occupied with his staff as he scans their surroundings and tries to keep the levelheadedness that befits a practitioner of the Craft. And in comes a rather tattered and torn section of Khazad soldiers. They seem to be under the command of an older female Khazad who bears a starting resemblance to Arnora, who happens to be at her side. The mother and daughter team have a quick muttered conference and their ragged squad take up a rear guard position, trusting in the treachery of the Pancea and their allies. Svarshan looks over to Kravar. He's quiet a while. He as never good with words, so when he does put them together, they're awkard and slow: "The girl iss a young wraith. A sstudent formerly of Charn'ss Black Counssil. She turned againsst them." He pauses a while. Then adds, "Sshe now headss a Cult, in honor of Heth and. In oppossition to Charn. They call Heth a God. ...there are many playerss in thiss war. Powerss, of would-be godss. Assumit, who would be a god. Of Demonss. Heth, whosse arrogansse. Iss beyond any normal. Dragon. /Void-warped/," he says "The ssame forsse that corrupted Maugrim the Tyrant. What doess a dragon, even an ansshient one. Sstand againsst. That?" Cesran rolls his eyes at the face in the sky, "Cheap theatrics." He looks around, "Anyone who had Arendt is really behind this whole plot in the pool we'll be handing out the winnings afterwards?" He says with some glibness as he spots the others who come in with the nobles. He looks around to see where his fellow spellcasters are and he looks at the door, "Before we go breaking this down I do have a spell that will open a doorway in it...if anyone's interested in that." He looks over at Svarshan, "Not much, but we've fought the void dragons before. So let's get this door open and get to it." Tatyannah trails after the King of Stormguard, having passed off Vepps, no doubt to some of the King's people. She's got her spear on hand. She hasn't stabbed nearly enough people today. Maybe if she's really lucky, she'll get near enough to Narvin to get a good jab in. She owes him, if only for that one time when she had to stay quiet and listen to him schtupp his secretary. Fayde upnods to Svarshan's words, his distant expression that of someone familiar with their content as he continues to keep a keen shiney eye out for trouble. The otherworldly teenager scrunches his brow as he tries to feel the magic in his surroundings. He glances then to Cesran and sniffs a bit before recentering himself for the task soon to begin.

"Look. Void ain't yer usual evil," adds Aldean, looking up even as one finger reaches to smooth the blood away from Silmeria's forehead. "Even evil opposes it, do they know its nature. Void looks to destroy all o' Creation. Ye'll not make nice with it." He reaches down to look in his pouch for something.

Munch perks, listening to the BrightBlade, and raising his axe in greeting to the Jungle Princess. "Wraits and Cultists; both taste terrible." "The Void Dragonss are hiss. Heth iss more powerful than all, however," to Cesran. Svarshan grips Srassha's leathers. Lets the swift take the weight for a while. "There are many. Great egoss at war in thiss. Perhapps they would all be. Godss. They all sseek to remake the world. In ssome image. Heth. Our ssummoner. And...thiss Veppss and thiss Forgeholm." Pause, "Ssaa. Void iss enough to bring the Brothers. Together," from Svar, after some thought at Aldean's words. "Then it's time," Silmeria says, closing her hand over Aldean's and smiling the bard's way for a moment, before her expression gives way to something colder, harder. "That we begin the task of reminding these great egos what happened when *last* mortals sought Godhood, unearned." Ezriya has...not had a good time down here. Just...in general. If she ever got ahold of the adventurer's guild member who sent her here, it would take a literal mountain of self control not to wring the man's neck. The last thing she wanted was to be embroiled in a war with people she cared very little about, in a setting that was quite alien to her eaglefolk sensibilities.

But she stuck with it. 

It cost her many things. A good deal of time, multiple near death experiences, a slight change in wardrobe and oh so many damn feathers, but she's still here and she's more than ready to find the person responsible and utterly destroy them, if given the chance. Still though, she's with allies at the moment and such dark thoughts would not do. 

Ezriya mostly ignores the overhead words for the most part, choosing instead to focus on herself. Compared to her regular look, she certainly had been beaten up quite a few times, as some feathers were out of place and alot more of them were cut, but she looks...okay. Well, really mad, but still okay. 

She looks up towards the final door, spreading her hands out from herself and snapping her fingers, the eagalrin sorceress covering herself in a light orange energy. 

"Finally. This stupid, stupid, stupid battle ends."

Since things are briefly calm, you know, the moment before the door gets smashed, Kevan is checking his blade. He inspects it, frowning at a few small chips in the edge, "This is going to take hours to fix when I get home. I really need some enchanting done." He sighs, then looks around, waiting to see whats going to happen to th edoor. Yngvild seems to calm a little as they run out of opponents. Seeing her king is well guarded she wanders over to Svarshan and those near, offering a brief bow of her head towards them "Quite an afternoon" she rumbles with a hunt of what may be a smile.

       "Yer not done yet, Ezriya." Melora says, still banging on her shield. "We still have to liberate here." She then looks back to Ezriya. "However.....ye've earned the right to be called.....friend." She says before turning her eyes back towards the friend. She lets that one word carry in Ezriya's mind.

"Aye," Aldean nods at the Sunblade lizard, then returns his gaze to the door. "Any as think to use Void to remake Creation be a fool. Void'll take it back an' not give it up again." What he means by that is unclear, but he looks up as Yngvild approaches, and flashes a grin. "Right. Where be that prince when ye need 'im?" He smiles down at Silmeria before looking back at the doors. Kravar edges his way closer to the door and then looks it over briefly. "Open a doorway in the door...?" He shakes his head. Magic. "I'm sure that will work. How long will it take?" He raises his shield into a ready position in front of his own body, then moves a few steps to the side just to make sure he doesn't get in the path of any spell. Svarshan gives an outright grin at that. A hint of moments-ago earlier battle. Doing what sith sometimes, are meant to do. What the Dragonfather asked him to do. "Jusstice, Warrior," and there's no greater satisfaction in the word. Yngvild hefts her earthbreaker between her two hands, not quite as effortlessly as usual as it has been a long few days. Almost felt like weeks "Well lets get these doors down one way or another" she rumbles, gaze sweeping around as she steps up towards them. Cesran moves forward and he looks over at Munch, "Great ready to charge in. I'm going to make an opening." He says as he starts to cast the spell of Passwall to open a door in the larger door. Just as Cesran completes the pass wall and people begin to file inside, the doors FLY OPEN anyway.

Verin shrugs his shoulders, lowering his hand, affixed with a glowing ring, back to his side. 

"What? It's fun," he tells some of the people staring at him. 

Now with the doors open, the throne room awaits and in you begin to file. 

The path to it is long within the tiered palace, but you reach it finally. Sitting in the throne is one Narvin Forgehome, though he looks like he's seen better days. Indeed, bloodshot eyes and royal garb are fixed on him. 

"KNEEL," he roars, all on his own, "KNEEL TO THE REGENT." Nobody does.

Kevan follows with the masses, though he has better sense than to be in any frontline position, he knows his own weaknesses for now. Today he wants to help how he can, and at least say he was here when it happened....maybe he should carve something somewhere...KEVAN WAZ HERE.

Munch says, "...so... we kill this guy, yeah?" "Regent!" Kravar barks, incredulously. "You're no regent! We know all about your plot! It's time to face justice for all you've done, all the chaos you've caused in this land -- and in others!!" "Ssa," Svarshan says. He looks over to Munch, and almost-grins. Mostly, he looks tired as he sits there in the saddle. The atlatl falls to palm, but he doesn't move. "Wizards, take all the fun out of..." Yngvild trails off her deadpan witticism as the doors fly open anyway. She blinks and starts to trail through, staying towards the front but not in the front rank. Her eyes look all about, but having simple tastes the splendor doesn't seem to effect her one way or the other. At the 'Regent's' words she snorts and then in her booming voice suggests he do something anatomicaly improbable involving sheep and or goats. Ezriya passes a glance over towards Melora with a small nod, understanding her. Still though, it wasn't like she deeply detested the whole situation any less, but to at least know that she'd be a little recognized for it would be nice. When the doors fly open and the others start heading inside, she does the same. Thanks to all the fighting, casting magic for her felt second nature and no longer took concentrated effort to turn on. Her eyes glow orange in a single blink of an eye and a latent flame gathers at her finger tips. When the false king speaks, she narrows her eyes, mentally tossing his words aside and stomping them into the dirt. She was more than ready to throw down, but it seemed like the others wanted to talk. That's fine. Let them talk.

She was here to burn.

Cesran moves ahead with the others along the path although not at the front he lets some of the more well armored people go first. He looks over at Yngvild, "We might need to close the door later, I can dismiss the spell I'd rather not have to wish the door whole again." He says as he comes upon the regent and he rolls his eyes, "Your coup has failed, your armies are routed, surrender and I'm sure we can find a nice jail cell for you up someplace very very high." Fayde looks around as all sorts of neatness happens involving the doors before them. First they open...then they really open. He illuminates himself with a wreathe of silvery flame, then traces a ward against evil as he scoffs at the demand issued by the apparent Regent. "Methinks his pants have gotten a little big for him. I suggest we hog tie him with them."

As Verin makes his appearance, at the expense of yet another door, Aldean chuckles. "Did the man fight half so well as he talks an' opens doors, it's a fine adventurer he'd make," he murmurs low enough for only those closest to hear him. He's silent, though, until they reach the throne room itself. Interestingly, though, he says nothing. Others here seem to be finding the words just fine, and he's watching as the confrontation unfolds -- for the moment. Both his allies ... and his enemies. Surely Narvin Forgeholm is not fool enough to be alone here.

 "YE WOULDN'T BE REGENT TO A DUNG HEAP! EVEN THE CRAP YOU SPEW OUTA YER MOUTH WANTS AWAY FROM YOU! WHEN WE FINALLY GET YER ARSE OFF THAT THRONE, WE'RE GONNA BURN IT! YE'LL 'AVE SOMETIN ELSE TO SQUEEZE OUT WHEN WE GIT A HOLD OF YA!" Melora's a little bit ticked off. This was her family. Royalty or not...they were family. "SO LISSEN UP! WHAT YE'RE GONNA DO, IS TUCK YER 'EAD BETWEEN YER LEGS AND KISS YER ARSE GOODBYE!"

Oh, hey.

Barntos is here in the crowd, now. Surrounded by alexandrian adventurers. And soldiers. And warriors. The vampire seems quite pleased. 

"About time this nonsense came to an end," he ntones.

Svarshan sits his swift, and looks over to the royalty present. Then slowly, towards Barntos. "Die," he says simply. Oh, isn't the weather pleasant, today. Fayde shivers a bit as he feels the presence of the dark side amongst them. He follows Svarshan's example,"Die..." Munch blinks with a soft click, glancing towards Barntos... he's never eaten a vampire... but... now likely isn't the time for that. The golem slumps a little, and turn his focus back to Narvin Forgehome. Maybe Munch can taste him? The sound of Barntos' voice among the crowd causes Silmeria to twitch, visibly, a sharp tilt of her head that suggests perhaps Svarshan's reply wasn't uncivilized enough for her taste. However, there are more pressing matters at the moment, than the presence of an abomination unto Vardama -- who is *also* a vampire priest -- and they must be seen to first. With a whispered prayer to her Lady, the inquisitor's gun seems to breathe a steady flicker of silver fire from the barrel's end, and as gray light wreathes her form, she pulls back the hammer; what was once a perfectly attention-grabbing ratcheting click, now sounds more like a pair of bony hands, cracking their knuckles loudly.

As the image of Vepp is magically displayed for many a person to see, and his voice made discernable to all those nearby, the half-sil paladin named Benthus goes through his gears, checking for their condition and usefulness in the battle ahead. Inside his head, images are being sent by his bond companion, which is maticulously eyeing each and every threat to the paladin. Benthus would raise his head once in a while and scan the groups of people for a moment, trying to look for something or someone, most likely brought about by the intel being fed to him by his mount. It is for a brief moment before he resumes to his weapons and arms check, getting himself prepared.

His clothes and arms are covered in blood, a consequence of having fought with the black golems. Most of it is his own. But despite the large amount of it being drenched on him, he appears to suffer no wounds and his movement is unimpaired. There are several other people who have gathered at the main door, waiting to rush in when it opens. Still, some are there, bracing for what may be coming out of those doors. One of these anxious people caught Benthus' attention. The half-sil stops his weapons and arms check for a moment to lend a steadying hand on the person, making eye contact but saying nothing. He does not need to say anything. His presence alone is enough. The man takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. He looks ready. They all are ready. It is infectious.

Benthus ends his weapons check and closes his eyes, silently praying. He twists his head a little, exhales slowly and then puts on his game face. The doors suddenly open. He follows with the rest of the people inside until he sees Narvin Forgehome.

A lot of people talk, while he begins checking the room, assessing where the threats would be coming from. His 'eyes-in-the-sky' could provide nothing. Not at this moment. He is blind. Yngvild's eyes glance around just in case, awaiting the other show to drop. Possibly one with rust monsters or something in it. At the sound of Barntos's voice her eyes rest on him for a moment "And you can join the 'regent' in that" she rumbles as a hand moves to rest on her holy symbol. Narvin, for his part, looks smug.

It's like he tinks you're all kneeling. 

"Good," he says, "Good." He pauses, confused. "Someone bring me my robe!" The one he's wearing. He looks down. Then up. 

"And the jester. Bring the jester."

Munch says, ".....is Jibbom handy?" "Oy. Later, mates," Aldean mutters, his eyes narrowing at Forgeholm as the man calls for his jester. He whistles a quick tune, a short line from a children's ditty, and makes a quick gesture before studying first the man, then his surroundings with keen eyes. "Die," the sith says cheerfully, focused towards Barntos. It's lovely weather. "Die die die." How have you been? He smiles, wider now. It's with just the hint of teeth, and a promise of more. Bluebirds fly across the sky. He hands Silmeria a roll of papers.

Kevan frowns slightly, he studies the man on the throne for a bit, and then looks to whomever is sitting nearest him. "I think this guy has lost his mind, or it was taken from him."

Fayde follows Aldean's example in the searching of surroundings for unusual emanations beyond what's obvious in the people around him. He grinds his teeth all the while, perhaps to keep from joining the mantra. Yngvild very carefully lays a hand on Svarshan's shoulder "Not the time Sunblade" she advises him in a soft rumble. Taking her hand off just as slowly and carefully she looks to Forgehelm then back to the others "He is certainly touched in the head" "Die," Svarshan replies cheerfully to Yngvild, though it's clearly aimed at Barntos. He smiles happily at the lich. And, "Mrmmm," about the rest. Kravar puts away his sword and then begins to edge closer to Narvin, shield still held ready. "Yes, we'll bring the...jester," the swordsman murmurs reassuringly. Then a moment later he repeats it in Khazdul. "Anything else...?" Munch hesitates, watching the would be king. "...I'm not sure we can fight this guy. He's crazy, sure, but not sure is the 'needs to be stopped' sorta crazy, but more the 'put him in a nice room at the temple and give him soup' sorta crazy. "I think you may be right," Silmeria murmurs, somewhat distracted by the roll of papers handed to her. THere's a quick ruffle as she flips through them, scanning the documents... then her head rises again, and she turns a bright, wide-eyed smile onto the vampire Thulite. Teeth begin to show, but the current backdrop cause her to clear her throat. "Narvin Forgehome!" she calls, voice ringing out over the throne room. "Tell us where the King is being held, and there will be a chance for you to live beyond the day!" Quickly, Aldean shakes his head, all trace of his usual easy smile gone from the mobile features. He seems to be fishing through his pouches for something. "Unh-uh, mate. Magic." He seems to be only half-listening to the other chatter around him, and he looks around for other arcanists.

"Where the bloody hell is King Steamhammer?" roars one of the dwarves present. To (Fayde, Cesran), Aldean pages: Works. From Aldean: "Enchantment. Help me break it." Svarshan actually...he looks at Silmeria directly for a moment. A shared moment of understanding, before he looks back to the vampire. Then, without looking away, "Possibly enchantmentss?" he asks, low-voiced. Slow, deeper breath. Fayde taps Svarshan on his shoulder,"This man is indeed ensnared in some sort of enchantment, we're working on it friend."

        *BAM!* Is the only sound heard from Melora as she marches herself right up the steps towards the throne. Apparently, she's had enough. Provided nothing or no one stops her, she will grab the regent by his robes and toss him down the steps.

Svarshan nods once, jerkily. He's so focused on the vampire. Deeper breath, "The man on the throne glowss with evil," he says, and raises his voice loud enough to be heard. Tatyannah mutters, "Oh for Tarien's sake." She's bored and annoyed, which doesn't bode well for anyone's gold or other precious objects. It's hard to say who she is annoyed at. Munch moves foreward as others do. Or at least as Melora does. If the 'king' gets tossed his way, he's ready to swat him back. DwarfBall, it's a thing. Cesran looks between Fayde and Aldean as he is moving his lips in silent communication with them. He sees Melora, "Stop now! There is a spell upon him. We are trying to figure out how to break it." To (Cesran, Fayde), Aldean pages: I have Break Enchantment and a scroll of Dispel Magic. BReak Enchantment might work better? You paged (Aldean, Cesran) with 'Perhaps a Protection from Evil ward can lift it long enough to simplify matters.' Melora says, "THEN STOP FIGURING AND DO IT! UNLESS YER NOT AS HIGH AND MIGHTY AS YA THINK YA ARE? HE'S ON ME COUSIN'S THRONE. REMOVE HIM, ER I WILL!" She's not stopping." Yngvild reaches out to grasp Melora's arm, firmly but not painfully "For what was done my my King and jarls I would love to smack him around. But lets leave this to the wizards for now" she adds in a low rumble Munch glances to Cesran. "We could try htting him really hard. That breaks most things..." Svarshan looks over, then continues to watch Barntos. He smiles so warmly. "Die," he says, while all of this is going on. In a voice someone would use to comment about the weather. "Die. Die die die die." From afar, to (Aldean, Fayde): Cesran continues to confer with Fayde and Aldean, "Break enchantment would not effect the spell, insanity is a very powerful spell." Svarshan pauses, then adds: "Again." Silmeria elbows Svarshan's ribs. "Focus, Sunblade," she murmurs. "If the Regent is under the thrall of dark magic, it needs to be broken before proper justice can be handed out." To (Cesran, Fayde), Aldean pages: Can we all three combine an' break it, mate? Ye got a dispel? Cesran looks over towards Melora, "He will be removed, but if you kill him before we free him from the effects of this spell, he can't tell us the information he knows. I understand that it's frustrating, but we are doing what we can. We only ask for a moment." Kravar pauses where he is, halfway to the throne. He takes a few quick steps to one side and then reaches down to put a hand on Melora's other shoulder. "Wait," he cautions her. "There's something else going on here..." he turns his head slowly to look back at Svarshan. Then he looks at Aldean. If the bard makes eyes contact, Kravar nods his head slightly towards Svarshan. Benthus watches in silent stoicism as the rest of the people around him move frantically to deal with a threat that he has not perceived yet. His focus shifts between his surrounding and the person seated on the throne. When he sees Kravar move slowly towards the Narvin, speaking to him, he arches a delicate brow. His attention is now focused on the supposed regent. An awareness of something about the person becomes evident. Now both of his brows are raised, puzzled by something. He remains statuesque as Melora begins to march up the stairs of the throne. When it becomes evident that she has harmful intentions towards the one seated on the throne, the half-sil's eyes narrow. But he does nothing. He shifts his attention once again to his surrounding, checking certain areas for strategic importance.

In the mill of maddened melee, it's Miruan! Miruan isn't going to get in the way of DWARVEN JUSTICE. Fayde nods his agreement with Cesran,"Aye, this man was clearly enchanted to keep him mute on what he knows. Perhaps even to goad us into a poor choice." To (Aldean, Fayde), Cesran pages: I have greater dispel as well as dispel. We can try to unite our powers using our stronger dispel spell and hope that the cumulative effect will break the curse. If not I can use a limited wish spell to free him, but we should exhaust all over possibilities first. If I use Greater dispel, and Aldean you use break enchantment and Fayde you use dispel we will see what we can do. To (Fayde, Cesran), Aldean pages: Aye. You paged (Aldean, Cesran) with 'This sounds ideal to me...surely our combined will is up to the task.' Melora is clearly not thinking clearly. That's right, a paladin isn't thinking clearly. And she knocks the hand of Yngvild away to keep climbing the steps. She'll need to be restrained. To (Cesran, Fayde), Aldean pages: Never doubted it, mate, I've a scroll fer ye. To (Aldean, Fayde, Whirlpool), Cesran pages: Okay so here is the game plan, we three are going to combine our most powerful dispel magic spells to get rid of this. I'll be using Greater Dispel Magic, Aldean is using Break Enchantment and Fayde is going to Dispel Magic. Hopefully our combine might will break this curse. Munch sighs. It's a mad-mad-mad world, when Munch not only needs to show restraint, but help restrain others. He'll just have to do the mindless violence later. For now, he helps block Melora. Yngvild lets out a breath and this time the grip she takes on the Khazad is far firmer "Don't make me call on the Iron Mountain" she rumbles as she lets her earthbreaker clatter down so she can get both hands on Melora. Svarshan rocks gently at the elbowing, but keeps watching the vampire. He lets go a slow breath, still...watching the creature. Not a man. Not a person. Never that. He sits there, resting in the saddle while the others take care of the mad regent. The conference between the wizards appears to have come to an end, and Aldean quickly fishes from his scroll case a et of parchment. A quick peek through them, and he fishes one out, rolls it up, and hands it off to the half-mul without a word. Flashing an easy, confident grin at Silmeria and then at the other arcane casters, he waits for cue before beginning to invoke a series of complex gestures in rhythmic fashion. They get closer and closer and more and more intricate across the minute or more that he works; after a moment he adds a whistled tune that is at once ethereal and beautiful, complex and full of trills. IT appears to require his full concentration, whatever it is he's doing. Fayde opens up a scroll of his own matching Aldean's, a scroll of Dispel Magic for anyone in the learned. His eyes and fingers flash silvery as he intones the phrases etched thereon, his words practiced and precise as his focus becomes suddenly razor sharp to match Aldean's. He slowly and evenly steps up to alongside Aldean as his efforts join with the Bard's. Munch watches the wizardly types, blinking quietly. He's not the magical type himself, but he sorta -is- magic. "...we... might wanna step back. Like, NOW." Svarshan takes a slow, deep breath. Then looks over at the group near the regent, as though surprised. He paces Srassha that way, stopping just shy of Kravar. Kevan is still playing observer to historic events. Perhaps it will earn him a few free drinks by telling the story in a few taverns.

And Miruan is going to step back, as Munch instructs. She only has MAGIC FISTS(TM) and feets. So she is going to let the wizards do their thing. Punting the reagent would be a great bar story, but such, such a bad idea. Cesran stands with Fayde and Aldean as they focus upon the stricken khazad, "You will want to step back please so you don't get hit by this spell." He says as he waits for the others to begin before he starts on his own spell. More complex then the other the spell builds as the three arcanists' energies start to synchronize with each other. They whirl and blend together as the air starts to literally crackle with magical energy. It takes a couple of minutes before all three casters point to their target and let the powerful dispelling magic fly. Svarshan urges Srassha back, and then towards Barntos. He smiles warmly at the man. "Die," he says happily. Kravar exchanges looks with a few of the others that move towards the so-called Regent. He starts to step back and does his best to pull Melora with him. The half-sil sunblade continues to actively search the room for possible importance, even though he lacks the skill and the know-how to actually see what he is trying to look for. Still, undaunted, he continues to search for tell-tale signs of something that could be of significance. But this is cut short once again by the activities near the throne. He looks at Melora, noting how she 'shrugged' off the efforts of other people to stop. He narrows his eyes to focus on her face. Recognition slow dawns upon him. Sunblade. He breathes deeply as he needs enough air in his lungs to have his voice heard amongst all the other voices that are clamouring inside the throne room. She is a sister of faith. Honour demands that he protect her honour as well. He is investing a lot on what he believes in, on what they all shared together. Discipline and justice. He chooses his words carefully, picking the ones that are likely to be followed instinctually. He choses three. And he utters them to Melora.

"Stand down, Melora!"

Silmeria backs away from Aldean as the bard begins his spellcasting efforts, making her way to Svarshan's side. Tapping the roll of parchment against her knuckles, she seems to study Barntos, head tilting to one side. With all the magics dispelled, FOrgehome staggers. He falls from the throne and to a knee. "What... what.. .where am I? Where are my men?! THE CASTLE IS UNDER ATTACK! My regency is in jeapordy and all you'e doing is STANDING the..."He realizes who he's seeing, who he's talking to, and he just pausing.

He looks at the assembled, very angry dwarves and their allies in the Alexandrians, in Prince Verin, in... hell, even in Barntos right now. In the elves, the eaglerin, the hobgoblins. 

"YOu know, I /told/ King Steamhammer not to let you all in. Now...look what you've done." 

He's flabbergasted.

When wizards give you warning best to take heed. Yngvild nods briefly and starts to move back, trying to pull Melora with her "Listen to the nice half-sil" she rumbles, then as the magic goes off without any explosions or bright lights even she blinks mildly and picks up her earthbreaker "Best tell us where the King is, before we toss you to the khazad outside" Fayde smiles as a breeze not unlike that to be found in a moonlit field sweeps through with the casting of his scroll, a twinkling of lights over his head coming into view like a constellation before flying forth along with the energies of his partnered casters to unravel the effects. He breathes a heavy sigh and looks to the others as affairs now get underway. Svarshan almost-jerks that way. He keeps focused on the vampire, still. Big, big smile, like only the two of them share something. They're going on a picnic, today. A picnic involving chomping vampires. It's so tasty. When the spell completes, the three spellcasters' energies uniting as one, Aldean's grin is wide and excited as he looks over at the other two. That was fun! But now they have the result to deal with. His hand lowers as the magical energies dissipate, smirking as he looks the man over. "Yer game's up, mate." His foot's tapping to some beat that apparently only he can hear. Miruan has to wonder how well vampires take punching. But she'll have to wait, letting the wizards do taht funky fingerwiggle thing. Cesran feels the magic rushing through him end as the spell complete and he can see the effects. He nods to the others, "Good job." He looks towards the regent, "You are regent no longer, where is the king and who is your spellcaster?" Tatyannah ignores what's happening with Narvin, because well, others have got it. She gets over to Svarshan and whispers something fiercely into his ear or what she thinks is his ear. Cranky, cranky, cranky. Fayde walks back to behind Svarshan, the thrill of magic ordinarily beyond his ken still singing in his hands and eyes with a lingering aura that has him somewhat lightheaded. He's a big smile on his features in spite of the situation, as he offers a bow to the senior magus Cesran, his staff propping proudly against his shoulder. "...well, balls," says Narvin after a long moment.

....the ground rumbles.

Munch blinks as the ground rumbles, and shifts to a more combat ready stance. "...okay. Somebody point me at what needs destroyed..." "That is never a good sign" Yngvild rumbles as letting go of Melora she peers down at the rumbling ground, then warily up at the ceiling "I hope the stopries of Khazad stoneworking are true" Svarshan starts to grin at Fayde, then Tatyannah leans over. He starts, his features growing blank for a moment. Then he looks back to Barntos, "Die," he says cheerfully, towards the vampire. "Die die die!"

Kevan is roused from his thoughts of future tales and drinks, the rumbling does not seem promising. He raises his sword slightly, turning in spot to see if he can find a source for this. Cesran can see the ground rumbling although he does not feel it as he is still flying from bfeore. He looks towards the others, "The ground has started to shake you will all want to make yourself ready I fear something is probably coming from underneath us."

       "WIzards think they know everything." Melora grumbles before she finally boots the former regent off of the stairs....and ironically towards the dwarves that want him so badly. "NOW, I'LL STAND DOWN!" She then looks around as the ground rumbles. "Figger yer way out of that." She stumps her way down the steps. "FIND KING STEAMHAMMER! SCOUR THE HALLS! MOVE!"

Fayde feels the ground start to shift beneath his feet even as the singing of magic fades from his head. He's suddenly quite conscious of the fact that there is no open sky above his head as he wonders what's going on. Cesran's words have his attention then much more keenly than anyone else's as he readies a defensive spell with a quick flicking of his left casting hand. The rumbling ground snaps Silmeria's focus, the blond throwing a glance over her shoulder at the bulk of the rest of the party. Between Cesran and and Yngvild's warnings, Silmeria sighs, raising her fire-tipped pistol. "Sunblade?" she says, equally pleasantly, "later. Be ready." "I'm so sorry for this," Tatyannah does look apologetic, extremely so, considering everyone knows her love of violence, even as her hand has come up to backhand the lizard. Nevermind the ominous rumbling and Svarshan's mount or anything else. Svarshan's had rocks back, and he shakes his head. Once, then twice. Hitting the reptile is about as solid as rock. He looks sheepishly at them both, a slow grin. Because lizards are slow. Quieter, "Watch him for. Me. Ssilmeria," he says low-key, so much to those words. Stjepan is just there, in the back, holding up a pillar. He's much too distracted by Barntos' presence to notice... well, whatever it is. "Lady Yngvild," says the Lord Hammergodst, the Lord of Stormgarde, "...get as many civilians out of here as you can, scour the place. You heard the lady! FIND THE KING. Search every floor of this damn cast-,"

Prince Verin is issuing the same orders as well, in another area. 

A voice rings out, seemingly from everywhere at once. 

"YOU CAST US FROM HISTORY AND NOW WE ERASE YOUR OWN." 

People are splitting up to begin searching the castle. 

Bartnos is frowning. "I can sense forty seven lives within these walls. Some of them may be your dark dwarves -- but there's something else here. Something... empty." 

His eyes widen. "BE careful. One of Heth's children is near!"

Tatyannah narrows her eyes at Svarshan, trying to figure something out, then she glances to Silmeria, then over to Barntos. She's not sure what's going on here, at all. However, an expression of relief flows over her face and she shouts, "I am dumb, I am not THAT PAYGRADE." This probably has meaning for someone. Mostly Tatyannah just looks - happy about proclaiming herself dumb. Then Barntos has to ruin it with his news about Heth. THANKS, BARNTOS.

       Melora glares at Barntos before she starts to head down a side hallway. Of course, she's a dwarf, and a paladin, so she doesn't find too many people since she's too busy rushing though the castle. She finds all of two Panacean guards. "You'd better be glad I'm feeling merficul. MOVE!" She says shoving the guards to their feet...and out of the castle.

Benthus is not amused by Melora's action, a scowl appearing on his visage. In fact, he is very displeased by her behaviour. He shakes his head at her, a look of disapproval shown. He looks away, as if she no longer is part of the faith. But his attention is once again shifted to other pressing matters. Like the ground on where he is standing rumbling. He turns to look at Cesran, who just happens to be nearby. Coincidence? "Cesran, you know about the history of this place. Are ground tremors normal?" But then he hears something else amongst the cacophony of sound. Something omenous that requires attention. He hears the input provided by the vampire and but reacts little to it. In his previous examination of the room, he has spotted several doors. Exits outside the throne room other than the one they came in from. He also spotted something else. Civilians. Possibly servants to the throne. Non-combatants. His paladin conditioning begins to take over and shifts his gaze to Aldean and Fayde. He signals to the two as they seem to have noticed the civilians as well. "Crowd control." He indicates at the civilians and using his commanding presence, which he extremely rarely uses, to follow him. He signals to Aldean and Fayde to make clear towards the exit point that he is gesturing towards. "Come with me quickly." He forms the rear guard for the small group of unarmed people who are making their way out to safer places.

Silmeria's head snaps around to stare at Barntos a moment, eyes narrowing behind silver-rimmed spectacles. Her hand clenches into a tight fist around the rolls of parchment... which is then stowed into a handy bag, to be replaced with her hook-bladed sword. "Later, then. If you speak the truth..." The inquisitor trails off, clearly unhappy with the very idea that Barntos could ever be abything but a double-dealing bloodsucking worm. Kravar heads down into the castle depths, using his sword like a torch to light the way. He peers this way and that, calling out in a low voice in Khazdul that they are 'friends and heroes, from Alexandria, sent by the queen.' They divide up! Svarshan ends up in a group with Miruan, Kravar, and Kevan. He moves with them down, down to the low-areas of the palace. He's quiet, save for the shuff-shuff of dry scales. iruan is moving with the others. And then a pause. She looks to the others. A nod at them, as she looks about. ... even helpfully looks under a vase. No kings there. It was worth a shot. Kevan moves to one of the search groups, heading around and looking here and there for any signs of life that were mentioned. He gives a smile to those searching with him, and when they find a priest hiding below he tries to reassure him. "Ahh, you are safe! Please, you should get out though and move ahead. Things have been secured, but there is no telling what future threats might arise. I suggest we help you get somewhere were others can support you, and you them." Fayde jumps on the case, visibly more concerned with the orders of Prince Verin than the dorf as he remains paired with Aldean. Apparently the spellbreaker team is cosmically official as in short order they are directed to take care of a group of servants by the rather displeased at something Benthus. Nodding curtly, he heads that way in double time with Aldean, then makes to follow with a quiet,"Lead the way!" as he readies a more offensive spell in his notorious left hand. He glances aside to Aldean who is at this moment alongside making his own preparations to get down to business with whatever is taking place alongside this rescue mission. Munch follows along with Tatyannah. He's worked with her before, her eyes are better than his; which are still pretty good. Of course, she just finds gold, which is nice, but kinda bland. But also they find some sort of drill thing, causing problems. Munch immeditely goes for turning it into scrap metal. THose seldom cause much trouble. SHINY GOLD?! Tatyannah is Johnny on the spot! "MUNCH, I'm going to need you for some - heavy lifting! You're hollow, right? Or hollow-ish?" She says all of this as she seems to be magically drawn towards the particularly sparkly jewels. Munch says, "I'm acidic. My middles turn metal to slush." "Damnit!" Tatyannah mutters. "So unfair. I hate this whole place. Showing me all this shiny gold." "Miss," Silmeria says, clearing her throat, "that's the vault of the king of the angry, angry people with the axes just outside. Let's perhaps rescue the King, and he can *give* you some of this because you did a nice thing." Much already making short work of the drill gets an approving nod, and Silmeria continues the search, cursing every moment she isn't around to keep an eye on Barntos. Cesran looks over at Barnos, "You might have wanted to mention that earlier." He watches the others, "I do have a spell for this." He holds out his staff as Ral-sara begins to glow as he casts his spell and Cesran starts to look around. He hmms, "I have found the king." He calls out as he heads towards Narvin. "Hold still please I believe the king is somewhere on you." He says as he starts to look over Narvin. Svarshan steps back as the priest slowly emerges. He keeps his body language quiet, the shoulders relaxed. Carefully, he pushes the auras of a paladin outwards. Courage-courage. Strength-strength. Brotherhood and fellowship. "I know you think I'm omniscient. I can't really blame you," says Barntos to Cesran, "But I'm not. Thul's gifts allow me to sense the presence of life. While I have no particular care for anyone here, Charn doesn't want /this/." He shrugs his shoulders. Yngvild pauses a moment, face faintly blank as she wonders who this 'lady' Yngvild is. Oh that's right, her. Under the coating of dried gore she colours a little and nods at him. That done she begins to move as fast as a huge Aesir in full plate can move. Luckily there is someone there to give her direction to a room full of wounded and she starts to evacuated those with the help of anyone she can bully into stretcher bearing. Munch steps back outside the Room of Shiny Stuff. And roars. He's loud. Like, barbarian loud.

"DRILLS! CASTLE BREAKING DRILLS! FIND THE DRILLS! STOP THE DRILLS! SAVE THE CASTLE!"

Aaaand everyone can haer /that/ now too. Since Munch is loud.

As Cesran speaks, Forgehome yanks his hand free from one fo the guards holding him, palming something from his sleeve and holding it up to Cesran. A brilliantly blinding light erupts into the room, immediately and forcefully blinding the wizard for a moment, before he can do anything else. Narvin scrambles to his feet...

Stjepan follows on after Elessa and Yngvild, trotting off into the darkness. He, too, finds the room of wounded, and starts evacuating at speed. Long legs, long strides... and then the yelling starts. Cesran swears as he tries to shield his eyes from the flash of light with his robes. "Don't let him get away he's got the king on him." He moves Ral-sara around, "Let me know where he is Ral-sara." "You are close. Warmer...colder...now warmer, hot hot hot...I'm pointed right at him."

"Hey guys. I found a button." Miruan peeks under another vase. "I'm going to push it." And she does. As Miruan pushes the button, those near to her can see a door slide open in the wall, revealing a short set of stairs down to a well lit gallery, full of lovely paintings, dwarven sculptures, and... a massive drill that's erupted through the floor. It too is spinning and making the entire room seem to vibrate. The walls crack here and there.

Yep. They weern't kidding about the drills.

And as she pushes it, a large sliding door opens. The room is shaking. "OH GODDESS, THIS IS HOW I DIE." It really is. Didn't her master say something about curiousity killing her? Probably. Miruan is just - really pondering the irony. Is it ironic or unfortunate? Munch sees a second drill. Charges a second drill. Poor seocnd drill, it never stood a chance. Ezriya had been ready to burn things. And then the talking began. And then more talking. And then...surprise birthday party!

Actually I jest. It was more talking. It was so much she actually extinguishes the flames glowing from her fingers. And so the great wait happened. The ground shook for a moment, which was a cause for alarm but when the others appear to split off to find things, she says in the main room with a few of the others. 

Things seemed to be rather routine in here, at least until Forgehome finally breaks free. The Amulet forces her to wince at it's light, the egalrin turning to look at the person he was trying to affect with it. Deciding that maybe Cesran would not like to be afflicted with whatever the hell he was trying to do, Ez dashes from her position. She ends up just below Forgeholm and grabs his hand, pushing it away from Cesran. Her other hand grabs him by the mouth and clenches down on it like a vice. A light grows from her palm over his mouth. 

"Would you like to know what fire tastes like?" 

She shotgun blasts a burning hand's spell directly over his face, engulfing it in fire and sending him away. Her hand gets a grip on his amulet as he's pushed back, likely snapping it from his neck. 

"And I'll be taking this. It hardly looks fashionable on you as it is."

Fayde hears Cesran's exhultation about not wanting someone to get away and whirls in time to witness the aftereffects of whatever he just did. Calming himself to generate an undoubtedly well known pile of dust in his left hand, he carefully draws a bead on the fleeing man before chucking it his way..."Hey NARVIN! CATCH!" Kevan looks at the drill, then at his blade, then at the drill. "Ok...how does one go about fighting a drill?" He then looks at Miruan and chuckles, "Well, at least I don't have to punch it."

First fire, then glitter. WHat a bad day to be Narvin Forgehome.

His beard is now a scorched mess of glitter, and Ezriya has in her hands an amulet. 

Actually, the amulet looks interesting. It's clear, and inside it, is the srunken form of one very angry looking dwarf. He's pounding on the interior, screaming inaudibly. 

Meet King Steamhammer.

Yngvild is somewhat caught between getting the wounded out and smashing some drills. Having no knowledge of machinery she works with others to get the wounded out to to a safe distance. Through the power of positive cussing, and being huge she convinces some of those outside to come in and assist. Stjepan keeps working on evacuating the wounded with Yngvild, and might even learn a few new words.

Ezriya grins at the result, flicking the smoke off of her fingers. When she gets a good look at that amulet though, she nearly double takes. Upon realizing who it was she had in her hands, she nervously stamps her feet in uncertainty. "Oh. Oh! Ohhhhhh...uh...excuse me. Completely and one-hundred and fifty percent not qualified. Can anyone fix this?" Cesran is still rubbing his eyes, "Bring it over to me I can probably figure it out." He says as he's trying to move over as he blinks, "Well I can see light and dark that's a start."

       MElora's almost right on top of Ezriya. 'WORRY ABOUT IT IN A MINNIT, EZRIYA! RUN!" And she's shoving Ezriya out the door. If she stumbles, she's carried.

One drill down seems to help with ending the vibrations, an with Miruan having located the other (and fearing she's going to die) it isn't long before you're able to get help to destroy the second.

Poor Tatyannah had to leave all the gold aside, but the good news is that the wounded are being evacuated and there's no sign of the servant of Heth Barntos claims to've sensed. If they're here, they're disguised and observing... which is not a comforting thought. At all. 

Still, the castle does not escape unscathed. Rather, you find that the castle seems to be shaken enough that some parts are collapsing, damaging the tiered structure, but it still /stands/. Thanfkully, everyone isoutside by then -- including the badly scorched Narvin Forgehome. 

There, Queen Steamhammer is waiting alongside the very badly wounded Evelyn Stonehammer. Ezriya is called upon to give her the shrunken form of the King of the Khazad, and it is there that the pair are reunited, sort of -- it's going to take a bit of finesse to get him out of his magical prison. When he /is/, and he is thanks to the potent magics at everyone's disposal and a helpful spell from Cesran and other spellbreakers presen, he is restored to his form and collapses to the ground, the sheer strain of it leaving him unconscious, immedaitely swarmed by clerics. 

The Queen, looking at the gathered heroes, announces. 

"We have won. The royal family is restored. Though we have much to do, the peopel of the nations have come together to serve one another. Even some we'd rather not have." She's talking about Barntos who is, now, conspiciously absent. 

"You are all owed a debt of gratitude. Thank you. All of you. You have proven that this is not age of fear or loss. It is an age of heroes."

"Am'sshere wass pleassed to. Asssist," Svarshan says, choosing his words carefully. Oh so carefully. He looks directly towards the queen as he does so. We are a nation, that says. He gives every credit towards his Empress. Munch says, "So..... celebration party?" Tatyannah mumbles to herself, mostly, "That debt could be paid off in gold. I would be ok with that."

"I am honored and glad to assist." She really has grown to like the Khazad. Miruan pauses. "And grateful that unlike the gobbers, your buttons seem far less explosive." Miruan takes what she can get. But the monk is fairly cheerful, even if the losses weigh. Cesran is happy to help get the king out of the magical prison and he leans over to Tatyannah, "I heard you found where the gold is. I can get us out of there will all the gold we can carry." He whispers to her. He says as he smiles and nods to the others.

Kevan sighs, "I really didn't see much action here." He mutters to himself, he sheathes his blade and shakes his head. "Ohh well, I'm alive, and I have a great story."

"Enjoy," Silmeria says to Munch, "and do have a drink for me? Only, the Vardaman temple is going to need every hand it can get, and I'd made a point of studying Khazadi burial rites long ago." Smiling in the Queen's direction, the inquisitor bobs her head, and discreetly edges to the back of the crowd, to join the Temple folk at their work. Melora lowers herself to a knee in front of Queen Steamhammer. "Was an honor to get that scum off the throne, ma'am. And I'm glad to see the both you all right." She then looks back to the former regent. "and it'll be a gret pelasure to shave his beard." She then turns and tromps her way back and lowers her head to Silmeria and Aldean. "Thank you both for what you've done for Dun Mordren today." Fayde keeps his calm as he dusts himself off, glancing around quietly as he hears what others have to say. The magical prison was a matter further out of his reach than the Insanity spell, but he was excited enough to observe how it's handled. He rubs the back of his head and leans against his staff,"I'm very proud to have seen this through alongside friends...I know the Silver Lady Eluna is smiling on us today." He nods modestly with that. "I imagine the gold belongss to the Queen," Svarshan says to Cesran, but loud enough to be carried. Certainly loud enough for the queen to hear. Well, paladin! Silmeria pauses in her exit, smiling down at Melora. "We were happy to be of aid," she says with a quiet chuckle.

Benthus continues to usher civilians out of the hot zone, gesturing clear hand signals to where they should be moving. He refrains from engaging anything that would take him away from his current task. Everyone has a role to fill. Making sure that these non-combatants live this day is his. And he would not have it any other way. One of the exit doors is pushed open. Making sure that the coast is clear, he signals for the rest to go quickly. He takes hold of one person of whom he assumes knows the castle based on uniform he is wearing. "Take them to safety. I'll make sure nothing harmful will follow behind you all. Go." And he gives the person a gentle push and watches them all go down the corridor to supposed safety. He wonders if there is a safe place anywhere in the castle. Turning around, he stands guard and keeping the exit free of obstacles as he waits for Aldean and Fayde to be done with what they are doing and get out of the castle. Eventually they did, with the paladin guarding their backs. As they reach the place where all the other people have congregated, he listens to a proclamation being made. He looks about the place, noting those who are present, and especially those who are not. He does not wait for the proclamation to finish as he begins moving through the crowd, a look of grim-determination on his face.

Tatyannah turns on Cesran with the widest eyes, as she breathes, "You are my new best friend." She starts sneaking away, with a crook of her finger. She points at Svarshan, "Not you, though." "Not every day you rescue two kings, and save an entire kingdom" Yngvild rumbles as she claps Kevan on the shoulder "Be getting drinks off of this for months" she adds, her boisterous humor seemingly returned. Fayde spotting Benthus once more, senior lessons finished, he returns to assisting Benthus with the civilians. A sorcerer's work is never done as he tends to shepherding them to where they can receive whatever help they need. Melora also makes it a point to walk by Yngvil and Kravar. "I owe you both an ale when you get a chance. At least to explain myself." Ezriya would be carried. By a lady. Without much knowing of what exactly was going on and much less why she had to be picked up. She hands over the necklace when prompted and after a whole bunch of hoopla that she couldn't possibly understand, he is freed and this entire thing seemed to be over and done with.

And just like that. She was free. Free to leave. Free to just..get out of this place. Finally, after so long, no more arrows, no more lumbering monsters and no more assholes pinning her to the ground and stomping on her face. Done. Done forever. 

At the first polite opportunity, Ezriya excuses herself quite confidently strolls out of the castle to start the long journey back to Alexandria. 

"I know there are many deities out there that might listen to me, but if you could hear me out. I could really use...a drink. A real one. Not one that will burn the throat with the heat of the sun, not one that will run through you like a stocking on a snake, but merely..a drink. Nice. Cold. Maybe accompanies by no less than the finest Egalrin males you can muster and then maybe a bath made of the finest porcelain and gold..." 

Ezriya ponders for a moment before shrugging. 

"Okay, the gold on the bath might be too much. Only that though."

Yngvild is doing her healing thing now she is finished patting herself on the back. And well others too. Her guantlets are off as she works away. She looks up to Melora and quirks a faint smile "I did much the same when I though my king was in danger" Stjepan bows his head, as he finishes up evacuating the wounded. He listens to the speech, eyes wide. "I never imagined," the sith says mildly. Then looks towards the khazad queen, "Your majesty. Under favor from Am'shere'ss nation, I would be pleassed to offer assistance to your. Guards for the next few momentss." There's a gleam in his eye. Almost devilish. That's right. He'll totally sell out thieving for prestige for his Empress. Totally. Munch blinks, and ponders a moment. "'King-saver'... not quite the same ring to it as King-Slayer, but less likely to get me barred from throne rooms..." Cesran nods to Tatyannah as he starts to head towards the back of the crowd so that he and Tatyannah can go raid the treasury and blame it on Barnos...it was his dasterdly plan all along. Kravar gives Melora an easy grin. "Done and done!" he proclaims, in between looking around to see if anything interesting is happening, or if it really is all over. Miruan looks around. She seems uncertain. There's no bonsai trees here. But well. Maybe she'll get a nap. Kevan is kind wandering around, still trying to find his place or how he can help now that the stabbing part of the assignment is done.

Munch wanders off to see if he can find one of those Black Iron Golem things, and prove his superiority. Or maybe just a good bar brawl. Fayde after a while of helping out those in need, he contemplates heading back to the surface. The youthful sorcerer is feeling keenly aware of how long he's gone without catching glimpse of the open night sky, and therefore how long its been since his last communion. He starts back in short order. Stjepan fliters away, to wash off the blood of the wounded and get a damned beer. And maybe some dwarven chili. Tatyannah goes off with her new Best Friend. And Cesran.

Miruan smiles, seeing Stjepan. She will follow after him. He has sensible plans.