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((It's okay Sprig!))
Lyra bounced on her feet, looking forward to the journey. "When do we leave?" She called a maid to look after the vixen.

"I'm saying can I go with you guys when I'm better?" She asked him

"Probably not now, but we'll come back for you." Lyra promised.

Foxy hugged Lyra really tightly

Lyra hesitated, then put her arms around the vixen and hugged her back. She hadn't been hugged in a long time, so she was grateful.

"Ah, no. It was quite cheap for what it was originally sold for though!" Vil responded, fiddling with her curious prototype and eventually cutting her finger. Hm, a low-cost showpiece that was visibly maintained. Undoubtedly a family artifact, and one with a bloodstained or tragic history too, he assumed. Though he wasn't too confident about the last part of the deduction, Randle concluded that this shop had or used to have a skilled blacksmith to their cause.
"Sounds like a decent store to me then, so I'm gonna stock up on bolts here. I'll catch up with you guys at the Woods." The Husk nodded at his changeling companion and stepped into the dusty armory, ducking to pass through the low doorway. He first browsed for a bit, but when the Shield-Maiden herself arrived, he decided to take his pick. Locking into her piercing but nonetheless friendly blue eyes, he gestured at a humble quiver 'o bolts at the wall and said: "How much for twenty of those blacksteel fixed quarrels, m'lady?" A little smirk adorned the big, soft lips.
"Fifteen coins for twenty five," she responded, a playful but sly scowl wrinkling her dark skin. Randle furrowed as well, reconsidered it, and then placed fifteen cold coins on the counter. The Shield-Maiden smiled and after tucking them away in her pouch, she walked over to the large rack to which several quivers with arrows and bolts were tied. She paused for a moment and glared over her shoulder to get a better look at the sleuth, who had just purchased some of the finest and most lethal bolts known to arbalists. "Are you after a mighty monster, sir?" she asked, sheer curiosity making her voice sound a little higher. Randle chuckled under his breath.
"Oh lady, don't even get me started.."

An uptight duo wearing some fancy robes emerged from the green Woods, their soaked hoods sticking to their heads. As they walked by, their faces gnarled into frightened grimaces, Randle overheard one of them mentioning the threat of the Sage Dires skulking around the Kingdom, and that 'that girl' was an idiot on walking around the forest on her own. So Vil had already ventured into the Woods, it seemed. No time to lose.
Glaring at their faces for no longer, the sleuth wiped some rain off his nose and entered the lush grove that formed a huge, green wall between the Kingdom of Wood and Ember, still trying to catch even the tiniest aroma of Vil's scent, but the rain had washed every trace away.
But after a while, when the sky-high trees kept most of the water above his head, Randle recognized small footprints in the soil leading towards the beast's den. And.. was that her smell? The cougar sniffed and took the same path the changeling had walked before him, eventually leading him to the den itself.

And just a few steps away, crouching behind a rock, Vil was observing the rocky belly of the beast with her own eyes. Well, he arrived just in time. These folks surely had a knack for disobeying orders, alright! In complete silence, Randle crept up to the changeling and sat next to her behind the old, mossy rock, secretly enjoying the amazing, earthy scent of the forest. Oh, how it beat the hell out of the city life!
"Vil, what're you doing? We're supposed to meet up with some other ruffians today.." he mumbled, still keeping his silver eyes on the Sage Dire's den. King Xeilius was like the element his Kingdom presented: fiery, aggressive and fueled by his primal rage and desires. Not his kind of man, but like any guy who let his emotions control his actions, he could be compassionate from time to time.
Though after the incident, it would take some effort to break the angry mask he wore. If, well, they weren't thrown into the dungeons as soon as the set foot in his Kingdom, that was.

Foxy fell onto the bed

I kept looking at the mountain and the scratches on it. There were some foot prints leading to the invisible entry. Then a familiar voice came from nowhere and had scared me, I pulled the blade to his throat and realised who it was completely. "Son of a b*tch!" I hushly yell as I put the blade back. "Sorry, you caught me on guard..." I was trying to hatch a plan to kill those things, even though I needed to get to Xeilius before they attack. "That man in the castle, I know something is wrong with him... I just can't figure it out!" I slam myself onto the wall of the rock and sigh. "Is Lyra coming with us to talk with Xeilius, or is she going to stay with the She-Fox?" I ask him, getting back on my feet. I glance over at the tracks of man feet and notice that one pair were distinctly different. They were recent and not only that, there was something on the ground that shined. "Wait, hold on... What's this?" I say as I walk to it crouched. I pick it up and clean it off. "Why do I recognize this?" it was a golden tree with an emerald held by roots. "I swear I have seen this..." I mumble and show it to him as I walk back to the rock and crouch. I was trying to remember where it came from, but then a figure came down the mountain pass in a purple robe. I ducked and peeked through a crack and tried to remain as quiet as I could. I observed them and saw that the robe was silk and had a cold feeling to it. I had a glimpse of their eyes and they glow bright with ice and slyness. I chuckled under my breath, "Seems we have a rat... Or should I say, wraith." it was a bad joke, but I still giggled. I knew those eyes, they were the butlers. As much as I wanted to kill him, I had to find evidence it was him and that this belongs to him and not some traveler who stole it or bought it.

Lyra left the fox and walked outside to look for Vil and Randle. She sniffed the air, letting her wolf instincts take over to better find them. She caught a vague whiff and wandered over to it, staying in the shadows. The cool, green grass of the forest comforted her, and she stalked along, nose in the air. At last, the scent was getting stronger, and she hurried toward them. Before she could reach them, she saw a hooded figure opposite them, and she crouched down behind a large tree.

She spotted a gleaming thing in Vil's hand. She couldn't see it clearly, but it seemed to be related to the hooded figure, as he was searching through the lush grass with his long, spindly fingers. The rustles seemed to get louder as he approached where they were hiding.

In a split-second, another cuss went down the hatch and Vil's gleaming left a print in his throat. Soon though, she realized who she was facing, and the changeling put away her weapon. Damn, that was close..
"Sorry, you caught me on guard..." the gal apologized in a hushed voice. Randle flashed a little smile and nodded, then crawling closer to her, still crouching behind the uncomfortably small rock. "That man in the castle, I know something is wrong with him... I just can't figure it out!" She flopped on the forest floor after aiming her anger at the rock in sheer frustration. Having an eerie radiance and acting like a spook were two different things, and Randle could almost say for sure that the butler did the latter. Wraiths were known for their smooth talking and selfish, sly nature. And, of course, they were one of the few who mastered some of the most ancient and dangerous charms, though that privilege was mostly reserved for the higher ranks in their tomb-dwelling society. But even an old, cranky wraith could prove to be threat, especially to a Husk or another magic-fueled creature.
"That makes two of us," Randle sighed. A small shimmering in the grass. Wait.. what was? Vil had turned to the glossing object as well, and after stealthily retrieving it, it turned out to be the Kingdom's emblem, shaped like some sort of brooch. A pin that only a member of the royal court would be able to wear. But why leave it way out here?
"Seems we have a rat... Or should I say, wraith." A soft chuckle came from Vil's mouth. Randle turned to the wraith, who had replaced his tidy red suit with a purple, obviously Rune-invigorating robe. Though the rough-spun hood covered his pale head, it wasn't easy to mistake the devious icy eyes for anyone else's. That damned ghoul...

The wraith snooped around the undergrowth for a bit, his cold gaze scanning the soggy soil. It was plain as day what the guy was looking for, and who he worked for. Or at least, Randle somehow recalled the messy, red mark on his chest. When he looked at it, he got reminded of another undead, mead, firelight..
He wasn't part of the pro-human cult, now was he?! He was no mortal himself, they would never let him.. Or maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe those perverts had another agenda. An ambition more imminent to the peaceful, free Kingdom many beastborns and other non-humans called home.
Either way, the sleuth wanted to get to the bottom of this, as something in his gut said the Sage Dires and the mysterious cult invading the Kingdom at the same time wasn't coincidental. Without even warning Vil or Lyra - who he had discovered hiding in the nearby thicket -, Randle took the golden brooch from the changeling's hand and emerged from the lush ferns and bushes, holding the shiny trinket between his index and thumb.
"Lookin' for this, ghoul?" he growled bitterly. The wraith turned to them, his eyes pinched and his rotting, disgusting teeth bare. But as soon as he realized that he was looking at the hired heralds of his own Queen, his grimace turned into a bland, brooding glare.
"There's no-one around here to hear you, Husk." Randle immediately hated the slow, threatening tone in his voice. What, was that stinky ice-corpse trying to intimate him? With that mug and attitude? His leathery tail made a bold swish as he cautiously approached the wraith. They locked eyes, but no-one dared to speak. Until.. "No-one would notice if you suddenly.. hmm.. were to run out of Essence, or.." A soft rustle caught the ghoul's attention, and Randle prayed he wouldn't find out that two of his pals were still hiding between the shrubs. ".. suddenly ran amok!!"

An excruciating burn went down Randle's spine, which made him gasp and fall to his knees, dropping the brooch on the soil. No! He couldn't let this happen, this freak wouldn't go messing with him and his-.. Argh! His vision blurred, searing stings made his limbs feel numb. The damned pain! He wouldn't give in to it.. not yet.. not now..
Faster and faster, his thoughts became like abstract fantasies. Husks were supposed to think. They weren't real. Their purpose was to serve. To serve the wraith.
When Randle got up, he wasn't himself anymore. His silver eyes were glowing blue, the exact same hue as the wraith's. His breathing reflex had been shut down, and as he slowly glanced around the forest in search of his former companions, his last sense of consciousness died out.

Randle had snatched the artifact out of my hand, "Huh- what are you-" I stuttered, he stood up and I crouched back against the rock an looked to Lyra, I didn't know what this fool was doing! He had spoke to the wraith in bitter words, the wraith did not respond. He approached the man with caution and I looked through a hole and tried to hear what he said, but he had fell to his knees and the wraith smiled a devilish grin. When Randle got up, I sensed something off and cold. 'What the hell just happened?!' I thought as I put my back against the rock once more. I stayed as still as I could, I didn't know what the wraith had done to him, but it wasn't anything good!

The plan had backfired, and in his over-confidence, Randle had been taken by the wraith by surprise, who turned him into his unrelenting servant in a heartbeat. But deep inside, he could still feel the rain dripping into his eyes, hear the thunder roar above the treetops. Yet the magic suppressed his feelings.
"Hmm, let's play a little game.." the wraith hissed ominously. An ice-cold hand patted him on the shoulder, slowly and teasingly, as the wraith knew the Husk belonged to him, as long as no-one distracted him from possessing his beast. "You're no dog, but you'll do; let's play a game of... yes, fetch!" Randle's ear twitched, but he kept on staring at the thicket. It was a thousand-yard stare, without emotion or actually looking at or for something. He was what he often called himself jokingly: a living statue. Without mercy or remorse.
The wraith brought his pale, slightly flecked head close to the brainwashed sleuth's - he had to stand on his toes in order to do so - and growled: "Fetch me those girls!"
Target: infiltrating girls. Spies. Like a saber cat chasing a boar, Randle charged at the nearest mortal, his metal claws unsheathed and his blanks face warped into a atrocious grimace.

Foxy got up and limped to follow Lyra.

A million thoughts raced through Lyra's head as she saw Randle confront the stranger. What if he was killed? What if they noticed her? She quietly crept over to Vil, but Randle had noticed her. She froze, her hand on her staff.

A lupine girl was crouching in the thicket, but her sudden movement had caught his attention. Randle's ear twitched and he produced a low, rumbling noise, beating the hell out of the already menacing growls some feral felines brought forth. He approached Lyra very slowly, as he was observing the way she moved to predict her fighting style, if she would resist anyway. But suddenly, without a warning, Randle charged, bashing into the gal in full force, his claws already aiming at her soft, human bits.
Deep down, he felt sorrow and regret, and despised his own bloodthirstiness, but there was nothing he could do unless someone were to take out the damned ghoul.

I pulled out my weapon and and shot him in the shoulder, the arrow going deep into him. I shot the wraith as well, but in the knee that time. I jumped upon him as a Wolven Beast and tore him off of her, throwing his body against the wall of the mountain and then did the same to the wraith. I didn't hesitate to chew on his skull and grabbing him by it and tossing him around, slamming him onto the ground. I turned to Randle after, "Snap out if it! What is wrong with you?!" I yell in the deep voice.

Lyra was pushed to the ground by Randle as he leaped on her, his claws digging into her shoulders, neck, and face. When she got back up, Vil was fighting with both of them, and she pushed her staff into the ground to help her stand up. Immediately, she felt heavier, and could tell the others were feeling it too. They staggered for a moment before she pulled her staff out of the ground. The heavy feeling stopped, and she leaned against a tree, bleeding from her face and neck. Vil and the Randle were on the ground, leaving the wraith free. He turned and focused on Lyra, and she held the sharp point of her staff toward him in what she hoped was a menacing manner. Ears back and tail alert, she stood as still as a statue as the enemy got closer and closer. Suddenly, she raised her staff in the air, and he jumped, as if pulled by an invisible force. He fell on the ground, and Lyra lowered herself down, exhausted.

Those mortals. Pathetic. Randle lashed out to the lupine girl's face, neck and other soft parts, again and again, but not even thinking about enjoying or regretting his actions, not even smelling the blood. His emotions were locked away, everything he did, he did blandly. He was going to kill her unless his master told him otherwise, and nothing or no-one would stand in his way..

Or at least, that was what the brainwashed sleuth's instinct told him until a massive lump of muscles and fur bashed him off the girl's body. Its enormous jaws got hold of his neck and threw him head-first against the rocky walls of the Sage Dire's hideout. His metal bones squeaked violently, but his insensitive self shut out the concept of pain. The Husk got onto his feet again and prepared to ambush the Dire Wolf - who was busy tossing around the wraith like a cat tosses a mouse -, but when Lyra pointed her staff at the undead, Randle freezed.
The wraith was launched into the air for a bit, and when he hit the ground, a loud crack! indicated that his neck had snapped and the back of his skull was crushed by the rock he had landed on. The cold feeling vanished from his body, along with the pain in his heart, and as his eyes regained their shimmering silver hue, Randle's spirit recovered the control over his body. He fell onto his knees by the sudden overwhelming feeling he got, panting like a dog after a wild tussle. Trembling in horror, he glared at his bloodied hands, not having the courage to look at his companions.
"I.. I.. err.." He sighed and got up very slowly. "I haven't killed anyone, right..?"

Foxy made a growling noise at Vil

((I had to make a new account guys))

Foxy started to walk over to Randle, covered in bandages