The Claim of the Rose: Bastion of Blood has started at Outside Arx - Lyceum near The Roseward - Edge of the Roseward - Volkov Forest.

The twelfth day of the second month in 1012 After Reckoning has been mostly rainy in Volkov Wood's immediate region. The roads not connected to the Great Road are still unpaved and the ground is slick beneath boots, hooves and wagon wheels.

Even so, the feeling of eeriness and unease as one approaches the Bastion of Blood can't be understated; there are entirely razed and burned down villages that travelers must pass through, along with signs of struggle, too old to be recent. The vanquishing of the commander of the Remnants did not mean that they are gone for good, just yet, but it does mean that the majority of them disbanded thanks to the collective effort of House di Fidante and their friends.

Even so, the road leading to the ominously-named keep has several posts, from which hanged men stare lifelessly, their mouths open in abject horror. Sometimes, one can spot an open chest cavity, a torn-out tongue. Ripped-out eyes, among the corpses, in ways that couldn't have been done in the work of scavenging animals. Too precise. Too /deliberate/.

Vitalis murmurs prayer after prayer for the dead as they pass the mutilated corpses, drawing rein as the group approach the Bastion, mouth pressed into a grim line. Eyes lift, survey, he is sharp and alert, scanning their environs. A glance to the others, and then back, searching, listening.

Spurring on his horse, Dante tries to keep it from slipping in the muddy ground by keeping a slow and deliberate pace. The destroyed villages do nothing to lighten his grim expression, observing the ruin around them. Mutilated and strung up corpses before the Bastion elicits a grunt of disgust, especially given the deliberate nature of grisly handiwork. "Vile. We need to exterminate what lies within for the good of Arvum and for Gloria."

This has been a fair while in coming. The road has been a long one, both physically and metaphorically, though it is undoubtedly the former that makes the marquessa glad for the relatively smooth gait of her horse. Lora has carried a bit of each burnt, razed village along with her, visible in the slow set of her expression into something hard, almost brittle, a porcelain mask of sadness and anger. She too has offered prayers for the departed, but dealing with them properly will have to wait until their cause has been dealt with with some finality. Dante seems to harbor that sentiment for them both, as his words draw none from her.

Vicente rides on horseback with the others about, he's less distracted or bothered by the corpses or razed buildings. His face lacks the expression that might be expected. Still, he is looking about and along the way as he goes along. At these times, he does seem to be more eying someone coming out of thin air. He makes no comments along the way.

Thea's gold-flecked green eyes look upon the corpses and a thin line appearing on her lips. Her eyes darken but she says a silent prayer, leading her horse forward. You would think she'd be used to such by now--but no.

Though bred to handle troublesome ground, even Brigid's courser was checked to keep a steady tread over the treacherous road. Silvery sights flickered over the corpses, demure expression retained though the Dragoon couldn't help but grip tighter her glaive - it is as if she's seen horrors akin to that now found on display. This situation was new, of course, the Baroness lending her aid as her friendship had blossomed freshly with the di Fidante pairing. " Shall we cut them down as we go? Or is that a waste of time." The Oathlander's tone was neutral.

Vitalis flicks a glance at Dante and Lora, but looks to Brigid, briefly, eyes flicking like a wheeling bird, to the fellow glaive-wielder and back to their environs, addressing the group, if not looking at them, "They won't be less dead. Vengeance is how we claim their dignity now."

The castle's gates open. One might expect a man to come out and greet would-be visitors in normal circumstances, but that's not what happens. Instead, the gates are wide open like a gaping maw, awaiting the next prey. From the inside, a blood curdling shriek comes from some poor woman who sounds as if she is in great distress.

There is a faint scent, as well, it is almost unremarkable, except it is so much like blood. Fresh, and a lot of it. Not stale blood.

Esme is here, really. She is rather silent as she views the chaos and aftermath around her. Those emerald green eyes sliding to the open cavity that once housed a heart. She looks at the death around her and then she too, makes sure the horse does not fall or slide. For now, she just watches and follows as the others move forward. The shriek of distress causes her to lurch on her horse as if to go at a gallop, but she watches Dante to follow his lead on how quickly they rush in.

The young Malvici woman stiffens the moment the first shriek is heard. And what--"Why are those gates open like that,"trying to keep herself from running. Her nose twitches, as she statee the obvious,"Something is off and I don't know about you-but I want to see whats wrong,"Thea finally manages. Straight forward enough.

Vicente looks over towards Vitalis at his comment of being less dead and rather flatly asks, "Are you quite certain of that?" He continues along and looks to the castle, stopping to look at the gate, he directs his attention momentarily to Lora and Dante and then shifts it back to look up above the gates and then up above them and around them scanning for any enemy who might be peering out.

The shriek is a discordant note that fits well in this grisly background, Dante looking back at Esme and Vitalis. "Lord Vitalis, can you tell what may lie ahead? I am a terrible scout. Not one at all, really. Cousin, let's not charge in. It could be a trap." The Mazetti lord is given a nod in agreement at the need to reclaim the dignity of the victims by putting them to rest. "Baroness, we should probably move in closely and on foot at this point. Lora, remain close and ready. Uncle, do you want to move ahead a bit to back up Lord Vitalis? I will as well, should he wish it."

"We will tend them properly when we are finished," Lora promises, concerning the dead. There's little enough to do for them anyway, far more to be done for the castle ahead, its yawning gates, the screaming. When they're nearer, when they've stopped, when Dante calls for them to approach by foot she dismounts with some care. A shallow breath is taken, that smell of blood in the air responsible for the twist of her mouth. "Lady Thea, will remain behind, with me?"

The shriek caused Vane to whicker, equine nostrils flaring as the metallic tang permeated the air with a strength that felt as if one's teeth had bitten sharply down on their own tongue. " I was thinking more of making sure whomever put them up loses some sense of satisfaction that his display was discarded." This to Vitalis before nodding towards Dante, " Sound." With a swift dismount, the Dragoon murmered softly to Vane, armored fingers curled around a sheathed greatsword attached to his saddle, soon strapping it across the length of her proud back. With glaive in hand, a low chortle of a whistle was signaled to her stallion and thick hooves started to shift back into a safer position, " I'll move when you're ready." Fog bound gaze shifted to look over the sickened bastion, a roll of her left shoulder solidifying her resolve.

Vitalis likewise twitches at the terrible scream, eyes closing hard. His horse dances a step, mud up to its knees, tail swishing. He nods at Dante, unlimbering the glaive held in the crook of his arm, blade angled low not unlike a lance, as he puts heels to the gray and moves forward slowly, attention trained, senses singing, stretching all around - tracking his compatriots, the corpses near, the creak of great hinges, wind whistling a lament over stone and grass, the Bastion itself...

Vitalis checked perception + survival at difficulty 35, rolling 31 higher.

Vitalis checked perception + investigation at difficulty 40, rolling 10 higher.

Vitalis cants his head, listening, "Screaming came from there." He points at one of the keep's towers. He nods, pointing with his halberd at the threshold into the Bastion. "Tripwire. Anyone knowledgeable about mechanisms? Could be nearly anything."

Vitalis dismounts, and rubs his horse on its neck. The creature whickers, tail still lashing, handed over to an armsman.

Sliding off her mount, Thea looks up to the tower,"I do not Im afraid." A nod is given to Marquessa, a small on her lips,"Of course Marquessa...Ill remain back here." But the screams.....

Esme comes off her horse easily and hands off the reins. She offers a soft comment to the horse's ears, or an apology. It seems as if she's trying to remove the horse out of danger's way as much as possible. She listens to Vitalis' report and shakes her head. It is not her area of knowledge. "I am not sure where to start or what it would involve. I've never tried." Her eyes scan over the party for answers to that and who might have knowledge.

Sliding off of his horse, Dante wields his gleaming longsword and pats Andras. "Lora, I'm going to send the horses back to the forward post. Andre can do that much." Forming up with Esme and Brigid (and presumably Vicente as well) he slowly has them move up to where Vitalis is observing. The Marquis smiles gratefully at Thea. "No, Lord Vitalis. I know nothing of the sort," he replies very quietly, shaking his head at Esme.

Vicente follows along behind but he's Vitalis but he's only moving along as far as he's directed, sword in hand now. He waits till he's directed according to Vitalis' direction as well. Although his expression may be utterly flat, his eyes do seem to be shifting about more swiftly than normal and peering about as he hunches and prepares to strike.

Thea checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 10, rolling 13 higher.

Lora checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 10, rolling 2 lower.

Esme checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 10, rolling 34 higher.

Brigid checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 10, rolling 9 higher.

Lora checked luck at difficulty 10, rolling 4 higher.

Dante checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 10, rolling 34 higher.

Vitalis checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 10, rolling 71 higher. Vitalis rolled a critical!

Vicente checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 16 higher.

Lora too smiles at Thea, for all that it will soon be clear that they aren't going to stay behind, merely give the others the opportunity to go ahead of them. Perhaps because she has to be extra careful about picking her steps. Not, really, that it's going to matter because although she can clearly see the tripwire, she also knows exactly where not to step, and so knows exactly when she manages to snag it with one armored foot. Yet she's past, adeptly turning like it's some sort of dance, as the trap itself triggers and a bucket comes tumbling down, a steaming slosh of red stuff ending up on the ground beside her. Some of it splashes up onto her bright steel armor and, for half a second, she looks more stunned by that than the near-miss itself.

Brigid tenses as she glances back over her shoulder, exhaling as the steaming crimson misses Lora and brows for the first time draw together, " Don't make me call you Roran, Lora." Came in a light hiss, it was followed up by an expression of relief.

Esme moves easily over the trip wire but then she hears the commotion and spins around to look at Lora. There is a wide-eyed expression to her features that mirrors her concern for the woman. She silently looks at the woman's rather rounded stomach as if to make sure the baby is okay too. Her lips open as if to say one thing before they close. She opens them again. "Be careful." Then she looks up from where the bucket fell and then back towards the 'mess' that fell from it. "By the thorns." Her eyes turn back towards the gates and onward.

Having stepped over the wires(thank gods)Thea looks over just in time to Lora, be semi lucky,"And this is why I stay,"Thea tells her with a halfway teasing nod, making her way over. Her eyes roam over that bucket and she twitches her lips a little..

Vicente moves along past the trip wire with the requisite caution that ought to come in the dangers of this situation. As he's moved past it and seems to be forgetting, he hears the undesirable sound. He tenses and turns around to see who's been killed or maimed and actually seems quite resolved when he sees it as good as it is. He momentarily stands there considering then asks, "Are you okay Marquessa?" His tone lacking any concern but just remains as emotionless as ever.

Past the gates there is a wide courtyard, the cobblestones broken and left unrepaired long enough that grass grows between the cracks. As they approach the main keep, the doors don't open so much as swing wide, the fetid scent of blood, entrails and recently butchered flesh filling the nostrils of all would-be visitors. Finally, they see the glimpse of someone in the dark; a pale woman, carrying a sickle in one hand, and what seems to be part of a torso on the other. She stops, turns to regard them, then continues on.

Sword gripped tightly, Dante dodges the bucket of boiling blood - only to see Lora barely miss being splattered entirely by the foul liquid. "Lora, are you alright?" His concern taking precedence, he rushes to Lora's side to look her over with a close eye. At least until he seems that pale woman with a sickle, the stench of blood and putrescence enough to make him have to stifle a gag.

Vitalis ghosts over the tripwire, but isn't smooth enough to knock the bucket out of the air, but rather, gapes at the fan of blood that sprays, snapping his mouth shut belatedly, as if considering that a gaping mouth and scalding blood aren't the best mixture. Satisfied that everyone is okay, he glances up to see if there are other surprises before moving along. He pauses to tie a kerchief over his mouth and nose, the scent is... he's glad to have the kerchief. And that's when he sees the figure. It's not so much a prayer as a quiet exclamation, 'Gods above...' he blinks hard, rubs the back of his wrist in his eye socket, not totally sure he saw what he thought he saw. Eyes narrowed, he looks at the others, expression asking 'did you see that strange thing too or...?'

" Our move? " It was alarming to see such a being materialize with such nonchalance, carrying about a fleshy piece and moving away from the group. Entering a closed space, Brigid, " Perhaps we'd best surround Thea and Lora, I don't like them just idling in the back given such things lurking about - I also don't trust the gates." A glance over her shoulder is briefly given, checking the way they'd just traversed before attention was diverted towards any suggestion of movement amongst the wafting, decayed gloom.

Lora's insistence is simply, "I am fine." She seems it, no worse for that particular wear. Certainly no worse than anyone else who has entered through those gates, the smell of which is enough to make her blanche, pulling up the corner of her cloak to cover the lower part of her face. Then she catches sight of the pale woman, her sickle, her extra body part, and she goes very, very still to stare in that direction. "The gods only know what else lies here. The sooner we find out, the sooner we end it, the sooner this whole nightmare can be scrubbed out of the Dream."

Esme is captivated in a way by the woman just walking past. Her eyes follow the movements as she watches the darkness and the depravity of the city wrap in around them. A slight shiver on her form. "Does anyone else find it odd that she didn't stop or come at us?" The question is softly given as her eyes follow the woman with the half torso and the weapon. She scans the area and looks back towards the others. "If I am killing someone or something and had a weapon in my hand, I wouldn't just slowly walk on if a group of outsiders came up. Is that concerning to anyone else?"

Thea lifts her eyebrow,"Wait-what was--,"her eyes taking in whatever that was. Reaching for her blade, Thea draws it, blade close as well,"Im never just idle,"her southern accent calm.

Thea wields Skystrike, the finely crafted diamondplate kopis.

Vicente has turned his eyes back towards the front after hearing from Lora and catches a sight of the woman passing along with the squinting eyes as if he's not quite certain what he's really just seen. To Esme he says, "I don't know that I'd have come near us either without being familiar." His eyes look over the company, "We don't appear to be coming for dinner exactly."

Thea checked perception at difficulty 40, rolling 13 lower.

Vitalis checked perception at difficulty 40, rolling 15 lower.

Esme checked perception at difficulty 40, rolling 33 lower.

Lora checked perception at difficulty 40, rolling 5 lower.

Vitalis wields Early Retirement, a diamondplate halberd.

Vitalis casts about for some remnant of torch or lantern, "Dark as sin here," muttered oath as he searches the rotting ruin.

Vicente checked perception at difficulty 40, rolling 22 lower.

Dante checked perception at difficulty 40, rolling 29 lower.

It's hard to see in the dark. It is unnerving, however, to have something drip on you, slowly. There are figures swaying upon the ceiling, which is not as tall as one might think; their slow motion seems almost like a deliberate, timed dance.

Vicente, too, might feel his heavy boot squish something under his heel; as he drags his foot, it slides off, making a wet sound. The smell is stronger here, strong enough that it's unmistakable. It is as if they are in a slaughter house.

More unsettling are the screams as they get across the hall, into a corridor. They are marked in numerals, with the names of several people on nailed parchment written and crossed out or with a plus added to them. One of them seems to be open enough to be glimpsed into, should they dare.

Vitalis checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 2 lower.

Even with the kerchief, the scent is too much. Added to the dripping, and the slipping... There's a guttural sound as Vitalis' gorge gets the better of him, not a full on wretch, but clutching belly, clutching esophagus, noisy. There is nothing right about this! Nothing at all! Eyes and ears is Vitalis' job, he swallows audibly, and presses forward.

Vicente tightens his expression but in the lightly and under that helmet, it's unlikely that it would be noticed. He is more sliding his feet across after the squishing under his heel, pushing anything along the way out of the way. His fingers regrip along the hilt and give a momentary drum. His eyes shift over towards Vitalis momentarily but not very long. He does take a momentary step towards the opening to the great hall to look down it as best he can. He won't divert down that way but if that's where the group heads, that's where he goes.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Esme just stops. There is a distinct noise of her swallowing something down hard as if she's about to throw up. Then she tightens her grip on her sword. A few murmurs can be heard as she's praying to Limerance. She's praying to all the Gods for this. The room ahead is glanced at to see what can be seen, but the screams call to her. It's like a siren muse that demands her attentions, pulls at her heart, and pleads for her to save the people. She starts to move in that direction, but she'll stop if the group wishes her to.

"Gods I wish we had brought a light. Perhaps we need to set something on fire." Dante pauses and forces his gorge and lunch to remain down, battered by the horrific stench of an abattoir. "Like perhaps everything," he concludes, walking closely behind Vitalis and gesturing for Esme, Brigid and Vicente to remain close, Lora back a little further. "We can't rush ahead, we've hit one trap already," he gags out.

It's been demonstrated in many similar places, in other times, that under circumstances like these Lora is prone to humming. Or worse, to outright singing, and so it may not be entirely comforting when she begins to do exactly that. It's very soft, the melody simple but subtly eerie, and the acoustics of the very... wet ...halls do these qualities no favors. But her voice is soft, the velvet alto giving the words the quality of a lullaby. "There is just one moon, and one golden sun, and the archfiends try to kill everyone. While the dragons abide and our doom now betide, it's a dark world after all." And the chorus, of course. It's a dark world, after all. Meantime, she reaches into the bag draped over her shoulder and removes vials of oil, likely blessed by a certain archlector.

Vitalis checked perception + survival at difficulty 40, rolling 16 higher.

Vitalis checked perception + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 26 higher.

Vitalis checked perception + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 7 higher.

Vitalis checked perception + investigation at difficulty 40, rolling 90 higher. Vitalis rolled a critical!

Vitalis checked perception + investigation at difficulty 40, rolling 22 higher.

Vicente glances to those present and asks, "Which way do we want to go?" He gestures towards the great hall and says, "I don't feel good no matter which way we go but that way is at least somewhat more open." His eyes shift towards the door that remains closed presently. He shifts his eyes to look to Dante, as Lora's singing quietly.

Esme glances over towards Lora's singing but seems to appreciate it more than find it odd. She looks towards Dante. "How would you like us to proceed? I, obviously feel called to go where the screams are and stop that. However.." Her head indicates the other room and then she lifts her head in an upwards nod. "I feel that is not a good thing above us that we cannot see either."

"I feel like I'm going to regret this, but I agree, cousin. We should go and stop the screams just in case there are people still alive in here and not some evil, Abyssal thing." Dante finally decides after thinking both opinions over, appearing more heartened by Lora's singing. "Any feelings on it, Lora

As the song runs itself out Lora draws herself up, as she too maybe finds some reassurance in the lyrics. "There will be little in here that is not abyssal," she points out, very clearly not looking up at whatever writhes above them, dripping down upon them. "Perhaps whatever is behind that door might yet be saved, but it is likely there is some festering thing in the heart of this place to find. But we are here, now, and the price of curiosity is sometimes worth a look."

"The door it is, then. Likely something festering and horrible, that I have no doubt at all," says Dante to her with a grimace, moving to open the door and not look what's over them. No, the nightmare fuel of walking through squishy and rotting body parts is quite enough.

Vicente nods and shifts more directly towards the door. He remains at the ready and continues listening. His eyes do shift momentarily at Lora's mentioning but do not seem to linger that direction. As they head towards that way he does glance back towards the great hall as if not fully certain of their decision but none the less, follows the will of the council.

Esme is more than happy to get to that door and see what is meant to be seen. Although, she does look towards Vitalis to see if he sees any trip wires or the like.

Inside the door is an individual that cannot rightly be considered alive. He wears the typical Remnants armor, but his limbs, even parts of his face, seem to have been very grossly grafted upon him. With so much blood pooling on the floor, there is little chance the groaning 'patient' of whatever procedure took place here is in any state to fight them.

A half-burned parchment reads: "Another failure; we killed twenty-six villagers for this one. They're starting to notice."

Vitalis slipped away, attention drawn by something, and returns silent as mist to the gathering just as Esme looks up. "There're traps this way, but I think I've spotted the lot of them. And dormitories." He scratches at his jaw, "The screaming is coming from there."

Horrified after throwing open the door and spotting this particular abomination, Dante shakes his head and makes a disgusted noise. "We need to put an end to its sorry life, I can't even imagine what the point of this, but it must stop. Everything here is likely going to need to die," he whispers with revulsion, pointing at it. "Someone just kill it so we can continue to the dormitories."

Vicente holds his hand up to the others when Dante says for someone to kill it. He takes his step carefully forward with sword drawn and leans into it to apparently whisper something before he attempts to slide it's throat with the oversized blade. The man seems unmoved or disturbed by it all.

"...they're starting to notice," Lora reads from the parchment with less disgust and more sadness, though who it is reserved for is impossible to say. She lifts her chin and straightens up to watch Vicente, shaking her head only a little bit at the very end, when she, at last, turns away to look at Vitalis. "More traps? What a wonderful place this is. Please, lead on."

Vitalis ducks into the room and twitches with a gag again, "Gods." He swallows, turning his face away and taking a moment. Squared again, he gestures Lora and the others to follow.

The monstrosity dies in relative peace to Vicente's blade, no last words uttered. Could they even /be/ uttered?

Dante murmurs a quick prayer over the executed thing. "I am sorry, but there was no saving you." He nods to Vicente with a resolute expression, following Vitalis as indicated. The Marquis reaches a hand out for Lora, apparently deciding remaining close to her is the best way to go about things from now on.

Vicente has not moved to clean the blade off, not at this point anyways. He looks to those present and says, "Shall we move to the great hall?" His tone rather flat and not mentioning anything to the newly made corpse. He momentarily looks to Vitalis along the way and looks at the man curiously and waits for the actual order to move forward before further action.

Past the corridor, down another hall, there is a stuck axe trap that Vitalis masterfully disabled; the stone wall is cracked where the blade hit, indicating the force of the impact involved in it.

Past that, there is a litany of body parts in a room that must have been a vomitorium for some of the Lycene's most wine-fueled parties, though the blood slicking the floor is mixed in with another substance.

Then the party comes across a spike trap; it is easier to avoid, though for some, it might as well be a one-way trip of pain, bleeding and subsequent death, given how sharp those spikes seem.

When they come to the dormitories, the screams seem to grow more frequent, with smoke coming out of a room after one particularly upsetting scream. By a man, this time. Reaching this door, they find the woman from the main hall, carrying what appears to be a very hot piece of iron, just as she presses it to a discolored patch of skin sewed on the body of a still very much alive man.

Vitalis hasn't been this far yet, pace slowing as they get closer, smell of roasting flesh sickening, oily smoke stinging eyes and screams rattling resolve and ears, both. He shivers, and slinks low, eyes raking the room - are there others? Victims or torturers?