Raylin had found himself in a position that, for a while, he refused to admit to himself even within his own mind. After clearing several rooms full of mimics however, he had to face the truth.

He was having fun.

It was a rather bizarre experience, considering all of the factors that ought to be working against such an outcome. For one, this was the first time he'd ever fought alongside Gilda, and honestly he had not been particularly looking forward to it. Yes, she was a skilled Challenger, who did have a few positive traits beyond that as well. From what little he could recall of their night together, he'd known there were at least some aspects of her company that were...tolerable. It was rather to his surprise though that having her at one's side as a fighting companion was one of those aspects. Despite her notorious temper the woman seemed nearly immune to panic, and it was rather entertaining to see the way in which she would surgically carve up a beast pretending to be a cake.

Fighting the mimics was also far more exhilarating than it really ought to be, from the stories Raylin had heard told. His only personal experience with them were the handful of false gems on Floor Seven, but he'd certainly heard many tales of how paranoia-inducing the monsters could be. Some former Challengers even seemed to be permanently traumatized by the creatures, thanks to one close call or another they'd experienced at some point. But for Raylin, it almost seemed like a rather amusing game. Could his keen eye for detail pick out a mimic before it revealed itself? If an empowered arrow shot through multiple pieces of furniture, how many would it need to penetrate before one of them screamed? Every turn on this floor seemed to present a new and exciting challenge for the group to try.

If there was one thing that put a damper on the fun though, it was watching the Paladin of Pain at work. Specifically, because the man seemed to be having even more fun than Raylin was, which, considering the man's equipment, absolutely should not have been the case. Aside from his...unusual taste in armor, the Paladin's primary weapon was a light flail - a thick stick with a quartet of spiked balls chained to one end. It was certainly a lethal enough weapon, if used skillfully, but not nearly as lethal as a good blow from a traditional mace or a sword in most cases. Especially when fighting monsters like mimics, who often lacked familiar weak points such as heads.

The flail was less a tool of death though, and more of a...medium for it. The blows it struck rarely killed mimics, but it did hurt them. Even when they appeared to be metal or wood, the creatures were still made of meat and flesh, and the spikes of the weapon could dig deep gouges into their skin as it struck. Those blows would then release a great deal of pain...which Barlond somehow absorbed out of the air, and then used it to kill the mimics with. It was rather bizarre to watch, and the Marksman wasn't entirely sure what the magic was actually doing. Most of the time, it would appear as if Barlond was simply gesturing at damaged monsters, whose bleeding wounds would begin to glow as if they were burning internally. They would scream out - a hideous sound from those twisted mouths, full of far too many teeth - and then collapse, twitching and in some cases even smoking.

Raylin had come to the decision that he would not watch the Paladin fight too closely for the rest of the floor.

Sweet, on the other hand, was an absolute delight for the eyes to behold. Not that Raylin had a thing for gnolls - and even if he did, this particular gnoll was perhaps a hair bit more on the intimidating side compared to the man's usual taste in women. But the skill. She was apparently actually a level or two below Barlond, technically, but if Raylin hadn't known that he would have imagined she was on the verge of being a Supreme-tier combatant. Against weaker foes the gnoll's twin oversized daggers could easily score one-hit kills, while tougher foes rarely kept her attention for long. Instead she would strike a few apparently minor blows and move on, while letting her Bloodletter skills bleed the monsters to death in her wake. It was a strategy that also paired well with Barlond's skills, and the two of them alone could quickly turn a room of mimics into a gory pile of dying monsters.

Raylin could only be thankful though that the monster blood soaking his attire would dissolve once they left the dungeon, and that he wouldn't need to actually have it laundered. Or more likely, burned.

Still, the man finds himself in a good enough mood after clearing a fake stable - complete with a mimic horse - that he takes a break to mention as much to his companion. "I have to say, Gilda - your house seems quite adept at hiring skilled retainers. While I admit that I miss Sansie's presence - not to mention poor Arlon's - I can't deny the skill this party seems to possess."

Gilda briefly glows at the compliment, although it fades quickly. "I'm afraid I can't take any personal credit, although I'll accept your praise on behalf of my house. Barlond has been a retainer of House Highbranch since before I was born, and Sweet has been one of the primary guardians of myself and my sister since we were young adults."

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Raylin briefly attempts to do some mental math on that last comment, before quickly giving up. He knew for a fact that Gilda was in her early fifties, but given her part-elf heritage it was nearly impossible to judge how long ago her 'young adulthood' was by her standards. Hells, by full elf standards, he was pretty sure Gilda would still be only a young adult. "Doubly impressive, then - not only have you attracted skill, but loyalty as well. I'll admit, to my knowledge House Perlin has perhaps but one or two Masters to its name, aside from Baron Perlin himself, of course. I'll admit to being further curious about how these two came into your service. For example, I didn't know your house were associates of the Church of Pain."

Having overheard the conversation, Barlond laughs. "Oh, it hardly is - or at least not in an exclusive sense. When you reach a level of politics such as the like where Duke Highbranch resides, one typically becomes a patron of many different religious organizations. I am not here on behalf of the church, however, but rather for more personal reasons. I am a distant cousin, you see, from the days before, well..." The man glances at Gilda, and a smile traces his lips. "Before the Highbranch side of the family decided they had a taste for human men."

Gilda focuses her infamous glare on the man, to little effect. "I'm not sure if you're attempting to imply something, Barlond."

"Not at all! Although you must understand, the family split is a little shorter on my end than on your own, thanks to our longer generations. It occurred within my father's days, as a matter of fact. By which I mean to say, I still hear gossip from my aunts about how your great-grandmother ran off with 'that human whelp'. It's all rather amusing to me, and if you've chosen to carry on the family tradition in that manner, you'll hear no objection from me."

Gilda sniffs. "You may hear an objection from me, however, if you continue to try and insinuate anything about my...romantic tastes. The relationship between myself and Raylin, such as it is, has nothing to do with his ethnicity."

Sweet nods along in agreement. "Oh, yes. My lady has had partners of very many different species - she does not discriminate!"

"Sweet!" Gilda quickly turns to face her grinning bodyguard, her expression now one of betrayal. "That - that was hardly a necessary comment!"

"Necessary, no. But funny, heheh! Besides, we are all part of the family now, wouldn't you say?"

The Mage sighs, deciding this isn't a battle she can win. "Sometimes I almost forget you do still have a gnollish sense of humor to you. Ugh, let's close this topic and move on, shall we? If I'm not mistaken, I believe we've nearly cleared the floor at this point."

Taylim nods, looking a little relieved that the topic is moving away from talk of family affairs. "Shall we call it a day then, and return to the inn?"

"Actually...I was thinking that perhaps we ought to give the guardian mimic a try. After all, we've been doing remarkably well so far, and I feel quite fresh."

The bodyguard isn't so keen on that suggestion. "I would warn against overconfidence, my lady. A single successful outing isn't a trend, after all."

"Actually...I'm rather tempted to agree with Gilda here." Raylin gives Gilda a cautious look along with his agreement. "I do think we should be prepared to retreat if necessary...but we will be wanting to attempt it eventually, yes? Why not now, while we're already here?"

Barlond gives a shrug of 'why not' in response, while Sweet keeps her thoughts to herself, if she has any. Not wishing to contradict his employer, Taylim yields. "Very well - we are an effective team, I'll grant that. We'll want a solid strategy, though."

"Certainly. Now, as I understand it, we won't know the exact form the mimic will take, so we should start off cautious. Taylim, have your group shield prepared as we enter, and - " Raylin's instructions are interrupted by a harsh throat-clearing from Gilda.

"A-hem. Raylin?"

"Uh...yes, Gilda?"

"I am the leader of this team, if I must remind you. I'll be the giving the orders here, if you'd be so kind."

A little embarrassed as he realizes his misstep, Raylin bows his head. "Ah, of course. My apologies, I meant no offense."

"I'm sure." Gilda sighs, before turning towards Taylim herself. "Now, Taylim. As we enter, ensure that your group shield is active. We want to be prepared for any sort of attack, after all."

With his straightest possible face, Taylim nods in acknowledgment. "Of course, my lady."

Quickly moving on, Gilda turns to the rest of the team. "Barlond, Sweet, you will be our primary offense, given the excellent synergy your talents have displayed so far. In the event that the monster takes a form too durable for you to damage, Raylin and I will attempt to expose its weak points for you, and keep you clear from other monsters otherwise. Primarily, you are to wear it down over time, although do remain alert for any healing that needs to be done."

Knowing her master, Sweet asks a question of her own. "Will you be making any special preparations for this battle, my lady?"

"Not knowing its weaknesses - if it even has any that aren't variable - many of my runes would potentially be a waste of time." Despite her words, a smile soon forms on the Lady of Runes' face. "That said, I have thought on the matter, and I have a few ideas I'd like to try..."

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Watching their progress, an unseen Xenia questions her guide. "So, think they've got a shot?"

Guy seems a little uncertain as they respond, but not in regards to the question that was asked. "Even if they don't - or rather, especially if they don't - would it not be rather bad were they to perish?"

"What, cause they're nobles?" Xenia eyes Gilda and Raylin before shaking her head. "It'd cause some annoyances, maybe, but there's no way in hell I'm just granting them a free pass. Especially not on a boss no one else has even cleared before. Besides, nobles ain't all that special. There's always more where they came from."

"True, I suppose. And if they do actually have a shot, and defeat Parker?"

Xenia grins in a way that rather mirrors the one displayed by Gilda a moment before. "Then I'll suppose that'll be motivation to get Floor Nine all polished up..."