The Guild became quiet once again as the Reavers returned. This time, nobody looked shaken, just irritable, but everyone stayed quiet in the hopes they'd hear something. All they knew was that there was an anomalous monster on the 5th floor, that the Reavers had been sent to find and kill it, and, until it was killed, the 5th floor and above was off limits. Anyone below that right now? Well... That was their problem.

But the Reavers were annoyed, and Gram, the leader, held up one gnarled and muscled arm and simply said "Didn't find anything on the 5th floor. We'll be looking at the 6th, and reporting to the Guild." He looked down, and the silence stretched out.

"Sendoff drinks later."

Those quiet words made the conversation slowly resume, hushed, but Gram knew that even if they looked like they weren't paying attention, they were waiting. And Gram couldn't blame them. Sendoff drinks only meant one thing, and everyone wanted to know who they were sending off.

Move forward. Everyone moves forward, Gram thinks, because business comes first. Haul. Report. Sendoff. Rest... And then return.

He smiles, just faintly, as the receptionist looks at them with obvious relief. And there's a few light chuckles from behind him, the light clank of Storm nudging Bren (and presumably winking.)

Good, morale was still there. It had been a shitty day, and they knew combing the 4th and 5th again, then the 6th, was a tedious, dangerous, necessary must.

The receptionist was a long timer, and only solemnly nodded as they received the cards, checking them one by one, and asking the cause of death. Gram kept his voice down, so nobody else could hear. Orders were absolute, nobody should know yet.

Then the proofs, and the party's usual request to put the 1st to 4th floor's haul into funds for the nearest orphanage. The 5th was their own funds, and they'd likely use them for potions later.

Now... The part he wasn't looking forward to.

"The Mistress waitin' upstairs?"

The receptionist nodded, and Gram motioned them up.

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Leanne was blunt from the very beginning. "Results?"

The Reavers looked uncomfortable, and she sighed, puffing her pipe furiously.

"Not the ones you were hoping for. Maybe good news first, or bad news?" Gram's raspy, surprisingly high voice (for a musclehead) grated, as it usually did, but Leanne held it in. She disliked him, he disliked her ("Stick up her ass a mile long", really?), but they were both professionals. The puffing became slower.

"Bad." Gram nodded, and the others looked at each other. She didn't mind the rest. They looked like thugs, and Storm was a womaniser, but she could at least talk to them, and they'd mediated when Gram and Leanne had blown up at each other before. But their look was a premonition of trouble, and it was right.

"Let's start with the fact there've been twelve missing adventurers found, but we can't identify seven of them. You'll understand in a moment." He placed seven pouches on the desk. Small ones. Opening them up, Leanne... Grimaced, put them down, and refilled her pipe, looking away angrily.

"Why weren't they found before?" Her voice was scathing, but Gram remained calm.

"How many people do you think go into The Pointless Annex, huh?" A calm question, but she could sense his irritation... And a little self blame. No, she corrected herself. Not a little. A lot. But she answered.

"Next to nobody, I'd think."

"Nobody. Never heard of anyone going there. No monsters to speak of, no chests, nothing but dead ends... It seemed like some sick prank. It wasn't that far in, but it was far enough in that it'd be unlikely even someone who went in would find it." He growls a little. "Gets worse. Lind. Aleena. Grint. Shanoa. Smiling Jack. All with their throats cut, their heads smashed in and messed up by what looks like claws, and Grint's legs were cut off by what we think was wind magic."

Alto nods, and speaks up. "Leanne's seen Cedric with the blue hair go off on one, so she'd know what I mean when I say it was like that."

Leanne nodded. "It's a valid tactic, and I can't disagree with it, but I do understand. Cedric has an unhealthy fascination with legs..."

A brief moment of chuckles and shared looks. The double meaning was taken. But Gram held up his hand.

"Also a Mimic, but that leads to what we think is the part we need to acknowledge." Leanne leans forward, pipe puffing, eyes narrowed.

"Oh?"

"We fucked up. Storm noticed. Bookshelves when we came in. No bookshelves when we looked back after getting distracted by a Mimic trying to kill us."

Leanne blinked. "Weird, but what's your point?"

"We searched a bit more carefully after we noticed that. The stone nearest the Mimic was cleaner, and in the shape of a pair of shelves. It wasn't where we saw the shelves."

Leanne's puffing grew furious again, and her brows furrowed, glaring. But Gram continued anyway.

"We're going to double check they're not on the 5th floor anymore tomorrow and the day after... But we've definitely got a Gorgon, likely a mage, and we have more signs of this Doll you told us about. And they're working together."

"Report's over. Leave. Sendoff drinks. Sleep. Get back in that dungeon, and look hard. Get out." Her voice is tight, and nobody wastes any time, leaving the pouches behind.

The moment the door closed, they all winced.

It really wasn't hard to hear the scream of rage, and the heavy things being thrown around the room.

Judging by the looks from below, they could hear it too.