Don
Kaataa tilted his head oncemore, as if confused at the sight of Foster preparing to fight. *Was this man really just that dull? Didn't he know **Who the hell he was fucking with?*** Disgusted, the pugilist unfolds his arms, his posture flaring up as Foster continued to approach.

**"You got a death wish? Or are you just that dense?"**

He lifted his fists, preparing for battle, as Foster entered Pflug stance. Once hostilities had been established between the two, those even within the general *Proximity* Of Kaataa could feel his intent to kill practically overflowing from within his body. He was clearly a hardened warrior, a man strengthened by many battles, and one who had no regard for life in the slightest. Now, it seemed clear: *Foster never had a chance to speak with him in the first place.* No, rather, with such a sadistic aura pouring from Kaataa's presence, it was made certain that he would've **Killed him at the first convenient opportunity he attained.**

Slamming his fists together with a reverberating ***CLANG, CLANG,*** He prepared for battle, giving a hearty cry as he stepped forwa—

~~**```diff
-【 ꜱ ʟ ɪ ᴄ ᴇ 】-```**~~

*`"ᵘʰ"`*

The pugilist slumps, ***`dead.`***

An unseen attack from behind... From when? He never saw him move... And when he became aware of his presence, he was all too late. Perhaps it was Kaataa's fault in his overconfidence; or, perhaps, it was simply a mismatch in his and Foster's individual natures as fighters. Nonetheless, the first of their obstacles along the path had been quelled...
Anne
The path before them is open, up until the fortifications that barricade its very end. The aura chills as the guardian's lifeless body seeps blood across the bricked path, his decapitated body, still warm, lain still across the ground...














***||` H `||***
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*`The pugilist was only the beginning of their troubles.`*
*`A tense chill overtakes the surrounding atmosphere.`*
*`Those who walk the path feel the sudden sensation that they are being watched.`*
*`No, rather`*
*`they now realize that they were being watched, from the beginning.`*

*There is still another guardian of the path, yet unseen.*
Vernon
Tabby remains cloaked, still trying to see if there was *Any* Alternative solution to be had as she picks option B; scaling nearby houses. Even if the current threat was dealt with — which was *Rather strange* In its own way — Tabby feels something creeping down her spine, giving a tingling sense which makes her want to employ her Defender, but... Doing so would mean that she temporarily gives away that she is nearby, even if she doesn't actually do the fighting herself.

*Best to keep a watchful eye out, for now.* She thinks, still scouting her way in through her magical cloak, thankful for the protection it is lending her at this very moment, taking her sweet time on the high ground but still making her way through her planned route of going all the way over and straight down through the defenses, hoping to just sneak by unharmed.
Virginia
The mercenary continued along the road, imagining possible ways to navigate around the wooden barricade which lied in wait. `Not strong enough to break that down. And I don't see any other way through. Hummm...` Something bothered the man however, slowly grasping the hilt of his sword. _Was something trailing the man...?_ He marched forward, not stopping despite his worries. That same, puppet-like aura began to resonate from the mercenary. He drew his sword, turning on his heel and scanning the area behind him.
Keri
```diff
 - "Well that was much faster than expected" -
```
He mumbled to himself almost dissapointed with the speed at which the foe had been dealt with, however he had learned something valuable; the stranger did not immediately resort to violence, this was good.
He began walking forward slowely, he needed time to think of his next move, however it seemed Foster had decided for him by.. Turning around.
He quickly composed himself and raised a hand in greeting.
```diff
- "Hello there stranger, pleasure to make your acquaintance."-
```
He made a dramatic show of rolling his wrist like someone taking a bow in a stage play.
```diff
- "Now i can just tell by the way you handled that situation you are a reasonable folk, yes?, see im like you, a humble traveller who wishes but to progress." -
He had taken on an exagerated cadence that one would think to find in their favourite fantasy media, giving off a sence of light heartedness.
He came closer now extending a hand to Foster, his voice returned to normal.
```diff
- "Perhaps we may work together, or not, i dont care as long as i may continue forward" -
Anne
As the two gather upon the path, Tabby scales the houses, traversing atop them unhindered, for some time. The strange sensation that *Each of them, despite their visibility, are being watched,* Persists, the strange, chilled, and humming atmosphere resounding with the peculiar notion. Foster and Cumhall could feel it just the same as Tabby, despite the latter one being entirely invisible. There was a strange sense of all-presence in the notion of watchedness...

Tabby continued across the rooftops, unseen to the naked eye. As she continued along the roofs, now roughly parallel in forwards-positioning to Foster and Cumhall, yet elevated atop one of the roofs alongside the main pathway. Continuing at her own lenient pace, the sensation only grew stronger and stronger as she progressed. Each step across the smoothed rooftops of the temporary-housings felt as though they only brought her closer to the presence that oversaw her, yet there was noone clearly in her line-of-sight. *Yet, that was.*


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***The tangibility of the presence sharply spikes, and directly ahead of Tabby, at a distance no more than five meters, she sees a shimmering, red light.***

A twisted, arcane energy cascades forth from the light, a crimson, smoky haze expanding from its glowing form. Forming a plume, the red smoke grew and grew, expanding its territory at a rapid pace, until it had grown enough to form a clear image — that of a *Person's.*
_ _
Wilfredo
*`Emerging from the shimmering, red smoke comes the towering, knightly figure of an armored warrior.`*

Stood at an even taller stature than the pugilist-warrior positioned on the street below, the knightly warrior boasted an unmatched height of 241cm, his posture straight, tidy, and formal, yet clearly prepared for battle. Unlike the armor of the knights they had encountered up until now, the man who had emerged from the red haze donned a set of tarnished, silver armor, emblazoned with obscure, yet immensely-intricate engravings that depicted a particular unknown insignia across his breastplate. At his left hip, sheathed, there was the form of a **Colossal longsword,** Likely over 2 meters in length, supported effortlessly at his side. 

His face, obscured by his helmet, allowed not a sight of his features, save for the dim enigma that were his two shadowed eyes, peering forwards — and, disturbingly enough, directly at **Tabby, despite the fact that she lacked visibility to speak of.** *The knight, despite her usage of invisibility, could **Sense her.***

```diff
- " " -```

The knight silently mouthed words, the motion of his lips unseen beneath the silver prison that was his helmet. He takes a sharp, forced breath inwards, placing his hand on the sword at his hip—


***```diff
- 𝙳 𝙾 𝙾 𝙼 . -```***


*Before one could blink an eye, the sword erupted from its sheathe, and a streak of crimson paints the atmosphere a bloody hue.*
***A horizontal slash pierced the silence.***

Without even needing to take a step forwards, the knight released a lethal strike forwards, with the unseen form of his crimson blade. It now rested still at his hip, yet in the moment that he had unsheathed it, he **Horizontally sliced the roof upon which Tabby stood,** Annihilating the stone from which it was construed, barely missing Tabby's legs.

**A simple warning. The knight did not miss without intent. It was a message to retreat or *Die.***