The mercenary looked patient as Medaurus began explaining their predicament. Her expression however steadily grew darker the further he went until the woman was unable to supress a sharp scoff that left her lips when the other mentioned bearing<i>some responsibility</i>for the death of all their comrades. “Some.” Onora repeated mockingly from the smooth flagstones of the floor, seemingly in no rush at all to rise to her feet and carry on. That is at least until the Skinwalker<i>dared</i>to bring up Sonia’s death and reminded the young woman that it was<i>her</i>sword that ended the life of their deranged companion. The sellsword exploded in an abrupt flurry of anger and rose to her feet before rearing on the man, jabbing one finger at his chest hard enough to make him tip backwards, likely forcing him to take a retreating step. “Don’t you<i>dare</i>say her name so casually!” The woman yelled at the other quite suddenly, her voice echoing within the walls of the grand cathedral. Even though she was a good half foot shorter then the mage, the swordswoman managed to look both intimidating and imposing all the same. She was furious. Onora was quickly losing her patience with this man who, after just seeing everyone in his employment die a horrible death, simply brushed it off as if it was just another day on the job. She wanted to<i>hurt</i>him.<br/><br/>Onora would have likely said, or probably yelled, more if not for a stranger’s voice that interrupted them as it wafted into the citadel seemingly out of nowhere and pompously proceeded to float around. Her first instinct was to hold up her sword and point the tip of it at the source of the sound until it became obvious that this creature was in no rush to attack and she reluctantly lowered it.<br/><br/>“… Friend of yours?” She asked the Skinwalker with a cross side-glance before it became obvious that while not formally acquainted these two were all but sewn from the same cloth. “… Great.” She signed heavily. “They’re multiplying.” She commented drily before focusing her attention almost exclusively on the orb-man.<br/><br/>If the mage was quite done playing with the talking ball, the mercenary would try to swipe it casually from his grasp, rotate and tumble in it her fingers for a long moment before trying to rattle the contraption right next to her ear. Surprisingly, and rather disappointingly, it did not rattle but it<i>did</i>complain. Profusely.<br/><br/>“You will unhand me<i>now</i>you barbaric fleshbag, I will have you know that I am –“<br/><br/>“Look, Mr…” Onora cut him short before realizing that she had no idea what the stranger’s name actually was, since he had never offered it, but the mercenary was always quick on her feet and never failed to miss a beat. “Mr.<i>Melon,</i>that’s great and all, but we’re kinda in a hurry. Got a cursed relic to deliver and payment to receive, ya ken?”<br/><br/>A hissing sound had by now filled the quiet cathedral and before long the source of the noise made itself known in the form of horrifying, disfigured snake women. It took Onora a moment or two to process exactly what she was looking at before one of the monsters fell to the floor after being enveloped in a buzzing hive and exploding from within in an impressive display of gore and shrapnel. While Onora remained unharmed, part in thanks to the leather equipment that protected her body and part due to luck, Medaurus was clearly not as fortunate. It only took one look at the wound in his shoulder to know that the Skinwalker would likely be out of commission for the next little while. If he did not end up passing out from blood loss before too long, it would be difficult for him to focus while in that much pain.<br/><br/>Mr. Melon continued chattering in the background, something about being<i>insufferable </i>and<i>undignified,</i>along with other words that were much too fancy and complicated for the likes of her. “Save it.” Onora cut him short before grabbing the mage by his collar and proceeding to pull him along after her towards the nearest corridor. Within the splendour and emptiness of the cathedral they were easy pickings and they needed to find a safe place, the sooner the better. The mercenary could already hear more serpentine enemies skulking through the corridors – there would be more snake women here before too long and they needed to move<i>now</i>, injured or not. The way out was barred by two of the beasty creatures whose arms thankfully proved to be shorter then the length of her blade and Orona slashed with determination to force her way through. One of the creatures ended up being severed at the torso, cut cleanly in half but still twitching furiously upon the floor, while the other received a finishing stab to the forehead, gouging out one eye and putting a swift end to all her movements. Orona trampled over their bleeding corpses and pushed on with haste as more hissing followed from behind.<br/><br/>“Great. Snake women. Ill luck just follows you around on your heels, doesn’t it mage.” The mercenary muttered while she moved down one confusing corridor after another all of which looked much the same.<br/><br/>Mr. Melon, although the orb refused to answer to such a title, continued giving them instructions whenever they reached forks in the road. The corridors, some narrow and some wide but all quite dim, were lit with torches in some parts of the castle and lanterns in others that gave off a dim light which struggled to push back the oppressive darkness all around them. The progress was long and torturous in part because they kept running into more serpentine enemies now and again, and in part because the Skinwalker needed to be supported due to his injuries and fatigue. Sweat was breaking out across Orona’s forehead as the mercenary was reaching her own limit as well between all the running, the slashing and the insufferable melon that followed them around dutifully, handing out wise and irritating advice along the way.<br/><br/>Eventually they came to a small room where wooden pews were positioned in two orderly rows and just one more exit was visible to their right. Large ceramic urns lined the walls which were a little more worn than usual here and were made of stone rather than marble, showing some cracking and chipping in places.<br/><br/>“It’s just on the other side of this wall.” Melon announced when he drifted into the enclosure after them.<br/><br/>“Wha’ you mean<i>its on the other side</i>?! Why the hell did’cha lead us here then, when the well is on the<i>other side</i>?” Onora finally exploded, too weary to care at this point who she assaulted with her bloodied scimitar or her sharp tongue.<br/><br/>“Quiet!” The orb still managed to sound composed. “This was the best route here, so now if you will just go down the hallway to your right, follow it all the way down until you reach the staircase and then-“<br/><br/><b>“</b><i>Futu-I</i>to going down more hallways!” The mercenary yelled before grabbing one of the nearest urns. She swayed after her arms snugly wrapped around the slippery, smooth,<i>heavy </i>object and grimaced at the effort before taking a determined step towards the wall and forcefully shoving the ornate vessel at it. A loud thud followed along with a shudder that was almost felt through the walls and floor before the urn dramatically shattered but not before making a dent in the wall. Along with dozens of shards that now littered the floor, there were now also a few bricks that had been broken free. With a wild looking, defiant and toothy grin Orona followed up with a few solid kicks and managed to knock a few more stones free that yielded a hole just big enough for a person to squeeze through situated roughly at hip level within the previously smooth and featureless barrier.<br/><br/>Medaurus was roughly pushed towards the opening which was supposed to lead them to this elusive well of nourishing, while Orona hesitated and turned her back towards it instead. The hissing that had been dogging their steps had finally caught up to them and three more blonde snake women flooded into the room through the entrance that they had just used minutes prior. Her fingers gripped the hilt of her scimitar and drew it from its scabbards, still bloodied, while she wiped at the perspiration that trickled down the side of her high cheekbones. She had no more strength remaining to launch a heavy assault and conserved her energies by choosing to parry instead of charge.<br/><br/>“Just so you know, your rate just quadrupled.” She hissed under her breath to her employer. “This was no part of the contract.”<br/><br/>It was supposed be an easy, well paying job – deliver the cargo and the mage to a specific location. An<i>escort</i>mission for god’s sake that payed more gold then she had seen cross hands at the recruitment tavern in weeks. An easy job indeed. Her mother had often warned Orona to steer well clear of anything that reeked of magic, but it was unfortunate that she never told the girl exactly<i> what</i>magic reeks of… or how well it paid.