"Smells like someone wet themselves." the help comments, fingers pinching his nose. My jaw tightens as an expression slides over my eyes. An unfortunate, damning memory.

"That is because someone did." I answer, stepping over the marks with a forceful blink. The sobbing woman won't get out of mental sight! My claws delicately rub at my eyes, and to no surprise, it does nothing. It's all too fresh in my mind to go.

Perhaps... Perhaps it is compounding with how I met Vapooliar. She too was terrified of the osibindah despite her strength. I am too.

That feeling of how we might die, it's so barby. I can barely manage to linger my gaze anywhere near the door to the room. There's too much here to ignore. Stains of what I was doing before, the smells of fear and gunpowder. Bullet holes, foot and claw marks. It's all here.

What isn't here, however... Is all of our stuff. Rose-sweerui's bag is gone. Everything I failed to pack is gone too!

"You after this?" my help asks as he points out an oddly neat pile. Gulping, I nod and he hands over my mask. Taking it into claw with some relief, I find myself fixating on how much more I need. My clothes are all still here, that is it. This strange set up is making me more paranoid than anything else.

We've walked into a trap. There's no way this can be anything else. Only Brewbrt and Einervaene really know about Rose-sweerui's bag and its contents. The latter is with my aelenvari companion. The former is unaccounted for and powerful. Only Brewbrt would even have an idea of why I might try to get back here, if he thought of it at all.

Which, clearly...

Does this mean I will have to fight and run away from him? Am I even capable of doing either task!? I barely won against that osibindah earth shaman when I escaped the mountain. Rose-sweerui has since clarified to me that a staff indicates a flaw in magic casting ability. She herself has this same problem to an extent. Not Brewbrt, I have seen nothing to show that problem.

Brewbrt does not need a staff...

He's like Vapooliar. He is powerful and capable enough without one. Never mind how his magic has altered his appearance. It doesn't matter who first told me, Rose-sweerui, Vapooliar or Vadei... His hair is a pale, silverish mixed with a shade of emerald glow that saps my confidence.

Vapooliar only had a few lone strands of verdancy in her otherwise brown hair. And she made a complete mockery of me in the practice fight we had. That's not even considering how my greatest feat of strength, what Rose claims to love me for... She did it without breaking a sweat!

Oh, gods above, it's even worse compared to then.

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I do not have the ability to use that stone magic anymore. The spongy sensation I used to find in rocks is gone. I cannot feel it now, even with a paranoid squeezing of some of the building's bricks. Not even my originally turned arm is finding that sensation. I'm doomed.

Undwote, without a shadow of any doubts, is going to see me again.

My head shakes, shivers rocking my body. My gaze hardens as my eyes settle on my clothes. There's no other option. Springing and surviving the trap is all I can do now.

"Alright... Help me get dressed." I tell my help as I get started, the shaking in my body somehow suppressed. I can still feel the hollowness of whatever bones I still have. But I'm not quivering at the very least.

"I'm not a maid." my not so helpful help scoffs. I look up from my increasingly wrapped up feet and glare.

"You best start acting like one, then. Because if -you- want to get out of here and -come- to Thrurstradtur... Then, you best help me hide this god's forsaken body of mine!" I hiss at him, my teeth clenching uncomfortably tight with force.

I give him a minute to lose the wide eyes, and he comes over to help. We make quick work of the sloppy job and I put on the finishing hat and mask touches. I can worry about properly sorting out my bandages once I get back to Rose. I need to hurry, anyhow.

She'll get seriously weak if I leave her in the cold for too long. Einervaene is the same in that matter, too. Without the Orbital-Halo coming up and over, it's only going to get chillier for the pair. Gods, they might not even be alive anymore... I'm taking too long.

My ears open more than they should, "Undwote... I better not hear one dog from your Pack of Seven."

My growls become rumbles as the mask settles on properly. Flexing my carapace-covered muscles, I fit into the rest as equally well. Gesturing for my help to follow, we head out the room and look out the window, down to the front gate. No sign of the bag out there, it would seem.

"So, what now-" my help starts to ask, our paranoia proven in an instant.

Flinching away from the erupting emerald light, I watch it rise through covering claw. All around Brewbrt's estate, like a new wall, so much more massive than the brick. A little wisp blinks into existence, its form hard and solid. It smacks my chest up, its bounciness gesturing for us to follow.

"If the Founding-Lord knows we are here, why hasn't he just killed you!?" my help demands to know and all I can do is shrug. How am I even supposed to answer a question like this!?

"Nice to see you are confident in your survival." I say, clinging onto the me-centric focus, even if it exists with good cause. Still, a bit of sarcasm to alleviate my erect sense of terror.

"Well... I don't know... I'm not the one causing mass destruction to Tryhpeltzweig!" my help almost screams as his skin shines with spontaneous sweat. Gulping, the wisp batters us again.

"You are now my accomplice, though." I point out to him, heading on off down the hallway to get to the main entrance. My help barely keeps up, swears driving his legs more than energy. We slide out into the open, a sudden gust knocking us away. My lungs empty and my back shreds open on a barrier of razor winds.

Thudding to the ground, another crash follows shortly... I barely have an idea of what is going on. All I can grasp is my survival instinct. Run, run, run, run, run. Run. Run with all I have!

It's the only part of my mind not fuzzy... Shaking my head erratically, I struggle to find my footing. Two things come into view, the power of the arcane highlighting them for my concussed vision. The bag... And, him.

"Hello again, Young Man." Brewbrt greets with killer severity, his fists curled and glare sharp. Somehow, with heavy breaths, I throw my arms up. I'm ready to fight if I must!