The adventure had undoubtedly been a greatly arduous one, which tested the very limit's of each adventure's mind, body, and willpower, as they faced the very shadow of death itself. Yet, whether through a powerful stroke of luck, or the very intervention of the gods themselves, the three had somehow managed to survive through such a chaotic ordeal. Indeed, the undead had proven themselves to be a force to be reckoned with, and not threats to be lightly considered. Yet, the kind-hearted and compassionate young dreamwalker, the ever-focused and strong willed mercenary, and the ambitious and determined mage had successfully worked together, in order to survive and escape the relentless onslaught of undead legions.

The camp's residents were undoubtedly not pleased with the unexpected ordeal which had been brought upon them towards the end of the group's adventure. Although, fortunately enough, not everyone clearly understood how the incident within the camp had exactly taken place. For those who had observed the origins behind the incident, however, spiteful looks of scorn were thrown at the group of three indeed.
Perhaps through such catastrophe, more than just an undead cadaver disintegrated into ash, moral lessons and wisdom according to each individual's experience were also brought back, upon their return to the camp. Additionally, perhaps the mage may have even learned to reflect upon the consequences of her ambitious nature for once…..yet perhaps also not. Only time would tell.

Regardless, in the end, with the dangerous undertaking now at it's culmination, only one final task remained; to search for, and deliver the remains of a fallen relative to it's grieving brother. Whether the deliverance would prove successful in redeeming the mage's name, or relieving the sorrow-hearted brother, the deed had been done, and a promise was kept….mostly anyways.

This concludes the adventure of, 'A Rude Awakening'

((OOC: Good job you two, thanks for keeping up with the thread all the way until the end, and participating in the event together! Was a wonderful story!))

As the spectral riders swiftly made their approach, the mage quickly made struggled attempts, in an effort to stand back upon her feet. This was certainly not the first time she'd suffered injuries before, however, an arrow straight through the hand was an unfamiliar pain she'd never had experience dealing with before, neither ever wanted experience dealing with again. Stumbling, as she came to her feet, she continued to comfort her wounded left hand with her right hand. She found it quite difficult to stand up completely straight. The rider approached upon the group with such immense speed, however, that the mage was completely sure that she was doomed to share a trampled fate with the two spectral cats. Taking a step back, she stared at the speeding entity with accepting eyes, expecting her imminent death. That was, until, there was the sudden sound of crackling fire, and the young girl was suddenly seen diving straightforward at the speeding entity with unnatural force.

The blood-curdling scream of the spectral rider after the elemental blow, caused even the mage to wince, as she witnessed the strange supernatural fire burn into the very core of the spectral being. Both greatly awed, and greatly intrigued, a curious eyebrow rose in response from the unexpected scene. Flame capable of burning the very spirits of spectral beings, who had no physical flesh capable of feeling pain? Was such an anomaly even possible? And yet, here she was witnessing it. The mage was well aware of holy fire, which was commonly used for dealing with the undead, yet this fire looked absolutely nothing holy fire. There seemed to be nothing holy about it; menacing was a more suitable description.
Indeed, it was quite an unfamiliar phenomenon, which even the magically shrewd and well experienced mage herself had never witnessed before. Her magically obsessive curiosity instinctively found itself surfacing, as she took a moment to observe the event, pondering the mysteries behind the unfamiliar green flame, curious as to whether it was a spell of some sort she could possibly transcribe, some inherited ability, or something much more profound which even the mage herself had no capability of replicating. The hypotheses were intriguing. The loud declarations of the mercenary, however, quickly brought the mage's hypothesizing mind back to the current situation at hand. "Portal.." The mage repeating back rather absentmindedly, her mind attempting to recollect itself. "Portal!" She repeated back again, clarifying that she was back into the present moment.

Before any portal was to be opened, however, one matter would need to be taken care of first. Leaning over, the mage ventured to partake in what would perhaps be one of the most painful experiences of her life. Placing her left wrist on the ground, she place a boot on one end of the arrow, while gripping of the other end with her uninjured right hand. With momentary force, a crack could be heard, as she broke a large piece of the arrow off. "SWEET MOTHER OF HEAVENLY CELESTIAL BEINGS!" The mage painfully exclaimed aloud, rather angrily toned, alongside numerous other curses and swearings, as she frantically hopped up and down while recomforting her left hand, and sporadically walked back in forth, in an effort to distract her attention away from the immense pain. The arrow, while now broken into a smaller piece, was still lodged into her hand. The mage seemed to opt at not pulling it out. Whatever her reasoning was, the decision was undoubtedly the best. Pulling out the arrow would've most likely caused increased bleeding, without the projectile to block the wound, and the mage had neither the materials, nor the time to wrap and care for her pierced hand. She was skilled in a number of magics, yet healing was not one of them.

Eventually walking over to the rescued scroll upon the ground, she snatched it up, in order to begin the previously interrupted process once again. Greatly fatigued, magically drained, painfully injured, and greatly annoyed, this would most likely be her last possibility of being able to muster enough force, in order to open a magical portal for the group's escape, before she'd need to completely rest for the day. At this point, if the group could not escape through this final portal, there would be no more portals for them to escape through, and death would most likely be imminent.
With the scroll hovering on it's own, in mid-air once again, she rose her single, uninjured hand, having no choice but to fully rely on the mercenary and younger girl to fend off any future interruptions. The mage's palm began to glow with it's signature scarlet aura once again, displaying her intent. Fortunately, this time, since the portal had been interrupted, and there had been no energy used in order to transport anyone through it, since no one had a chance to go through it, a delayed recharging of the spell would not be required this time. However, the power and size of the portal, would undoubtedly be less powerful, and smaller.
The channeling time for the portal also took noticeably longer, as the mage only had one hand to channel magical energy with this time. As sweat viciously poured from her noticeably strained face, the mage's eyes struggled to stay open, communicating her struggle in casting such a magically demanding spell for the third time, in such a short duration. With low, strained grunts, something like a portal eventually formed. However, this portal was noticeably less potent than her previous conjurings, revealing her great fatigue. Falling to one knee, the mage lowly groaned, as she struggled to maintain the groups last hope of survival from dissipating. "Go with haste!" The mage commanded wearily. She would not be able to keep the portal open for too long.
Looking up, however, it appeared that the group were not the only ones who had a mind to exit from the battlefield, into the camp. For it would also be at that moment, than one of the spectral riders immediately turned his attention away from his current task, upon witnessing the newly formed portal, and was now hastily on his way towards entering it. Indeed, if he managed to succeed in his task, the consequences for those at the camp, would undoubtedly be dire.

Of the various, unintelligible, magically charged symbols and syllables moving about throughout the enchanted scroll, the magical syllables for the portal spell in particular, gradually glowed brighter and brighter with scarlet, as the mage diligently worked to recharge the spell. The mercenary, younger girl, and her various companions did a very good job keeping the undead hordes at bay, allowing the mage to place all of her focus upon her task. Despite this uninterrupted concentration, however, the mage's expression displayed that was also not having the easiest time, despite not being in physical combat, as her once annoyed expression now additionally revealed subtle signs of fatigue. The draining of magical energies was having an effect on her.

As the scarlet aura admitting from her palms eventually ceased, the mage grabbed the scroll, and stood up, beginning her boastful declaration, "Behold, the Mightiest Practicer of the Magical Arts's task is complete! Observe how through my extraordinary magical prowess, the task has even been greatly shortened! You may offer your gratitude and praises upon our arrival to the camp!" Her boasting, while extraordinarily prideful, was not without reason, however; For the recharging process, surprisingly enough, actually ended up taking fifteen less minutes than intended.
Placing the scroll in mid-air, as she did back at the camp, she prepared for the culmination of her appointed task. Before continuing the process, however, the mage found herself suddenly rubbing her forehead with closed eyes, as she released a light groan, similar to one a person makes upon first awaking from an unpleasant slumber. The greatly hastened process of spell recovery, was indeed not without consequence, and had proven to have taken a toll upon the mages stamina, as she found herself slightly disorientated, and requiring a moment to regain her composure.
As she eventually continued towards the final step of her task, the crimson aura once again reappeared from her palms. The familiar, black dotted abnormality formed in mid-air once again, gradually widening into a black ring, as the eagerly awaited portal began to finally reveal itself. A pleased smirk appeared upon the mage's lips, as she proudly exclaimed, "We go!" Success seemed at hand, as it appeared that everyone would live to fight yet another day, all while still successfully managing to fulfill their promise of returning the dead brother's corpse back to the camp.

Unfortunately, the story would not end that easily..

"No!" Suddenly came a loud and unusually desperate shout from the mage, as her attention was suddenly turned towards yet another unfortunate occurrence. There, upon a sand dune in the distance, separated from the rest of his companions, stood another undead corpse. Yet this corpse, would be much more unique in comparison to his undead brethren. He was not equipped with the typical sword or spear of his fellow brethren, most of whom made rather pathetic attempts at killing their opponents, as their rotted corpses clumsily swung the steel weapons about. This undead corpse upon the dune, would be equipped with something much more formidable; a bow and arrows.
The rusted projectile quickly soared through the air, as it traveled with surprisingly precise acurracy towards it's intended target. The rusted projectile's intended target, however, would not be the mercenary, nor the girl, nor her companions, nor even the mage herself, but something much more detrimental to the wellbeing of the group, something completely incapable of defending itself; the enchanted scroll hovering in mid-air.
The arrow soared through the air with such great accuracy and speed, the mage had little time to consider her options. Her immediate understanding, however, was well aware that if the arrow successfully pierced through the floating scroll, not only would the portal spell very likely be damaged far beyond repair, but also a large number of other spells transcribed within the enchanted scroll, as well; spells which she'd gone through many arduous and near-death experiences and adventures, in order to obtain. With little window of opportunity to react, and realization of the dire consequences at stake, the orange haired woman did what any power hungry mage would do in such a situation…

With a leap, the mage lunged forward into the air, arms outstretched, and the arrow met it's new target; the mage herself. The enchanted scroll dropped the ground, and the portal immediately disappeared, as the arrow pierced into the castor. A short, yet pain filled shout was heard upon impact. Even this loud demonstration of injury, however, was far more suppressed than the actual reality of her pain; for the mage opted to still save face, even despite her immense pain. The woman violent fell to the ground, rolling through the sands upon landing. With continued suppressed moans of pain, she could be seen tightly gripping her left wrist with her right hand, while her left hand trembled with immense pain, revealing her injury; the rusted arrow had pierced directly through her left palm.
Blood from the wound dripped upon the sands, as the mage looked back up into the distance, at the dune, her vision now somewhat blurred due to a mixture of fatigue and pain. The bow and arrow armed corpse seemed to gaze right back at the wounded woman from afar. The whole ordeal was quite an unusual scene, as the two seemed to simply gaze at each other from afar, for quite some time after the incident, the undead archer surprisingly not even reloading his bow, yet. It would be in the midst of this unusual exchanging of gazes between one another, that the faint sounds of galloping against the sand would eventually be heard, increasingly becoming louder and louder. Three additional figures suddenly appeared upon the sand dunes, appearing from both sides of the undead archer. The injured woman squinted her eyes, in order to better examine the fast approaching figures, before yet another nightmarish whinnying was heard, this time with almost ear perching aptitude, immediately revealing their identity. The riders were here…

((OOC: Hue hue hue, hard mode activated))

At the younger girl's suggestion, concerning which method to go about, in order to fulfill their promise to the mourning brother at the refuge, the mage's facial expression revealed that she was also pondering the same. Izzey Ius was also not too keen on settling for only returning the fallen brother's equipment back to the camp, instead of his whole body. For her, the redemption of her name was at stake. Yet, given the current series of unfortunate circumstance, there did not seem to be many other options to settle for.

As the irritable natured Sphinx laded and began it's declarations, the mage's previous ponderings would find themselves interrupted, and her attention would find itself shifted towards another matter. An uninhibited, annoyed expression appeared upon the rambunctious natured, orange-head woman, as her face was quickly made red with anger, and she made and effort to defend her case, in retaliation, "Listen here, you oversized chicken wing! I'll have you know magic does not just limitlessly flow about one's veins like watery springs! Know you nothing is magical refreshing?! The scroll needs time to recharge!"

Folding her arms, she openly displayed her annoyance, before turning her attention back to the mercenary, as he began his formulation of a strategy. "Behold! Even one who is unmagical, is able to perceive the concept of time and magic, better than you!" When it came to most matters, the mage rarely exhibited anger. Yet, when it came to magic, especially in reference to her own, she was notably extremely sensitive concerning the subject. 

Opening her satchel again, she pulled out her enchanted scroll, which contained the magical spell for the portal, and placed it unfolded it upon the sand. Sitting down, cross-legged styled, she rose both her hands over the scroll, in an almost claw-like fashion, as she began the process of focusing her magical energy into recharging the scroll's spell more rapidly. A scarlet aura began to emit from her hands, into the scroll, visibly displaying her intent. 

"Thirty minutes!" The mage declared, her tone displaying that she was still rather annoyed, while her face gazed at the scroll in a highly concentrated manner.

The sound of the Spinx's flying exclamation overhead, as well as the younger female's loud request for aid, without a doubt, caught the mages attention, in the midst of her mummy-limb whacking endevours. However, it would not be soon afterwards, before an even mightier sound would be heard throughout the desert, one which would greatly startle her. "What's a Bahadur?!" The red haired mage loudly inquired back, before the very sands beneath her feet began to shake from a sudden, earth-trembling trumpet blast blown from a distance. Her eyes widened, as she gazed at the massive and unnatural phenomenon which had suddenly appeared on the battlefield. It was an entity even an unstable mind such as hers, could perceive full well to avoid. She continued to stare at the massive entity with great awe, for quite some time, even after the girl had come into close proximity of her, and began anxiously shouting her warnings. "I know not what a rider is, girl, but indeed we must flee!" The mage eventually agreed.

Upon the mercenary's rejoining inquiry, the mage pointed ahead at the massive creature of her main interest, "Yes, I found a giant elephant, King Albre–OH!" She exclaimed, her speech interrupted as she turned her head to unexpectedly see a completely shirtless mercenary. "The undead have stolen your armor!" She continued, before turning around to face the direction of the pointed sword. Leaning slightly forward, and squinting her eyes, she more thoroughly examined the indicated undead figure. She gazed at the slow moving corpse for a few moments, making a 'Hmm' sound in the midst of her process, before finally providing an answer. "Behold, he appears much more ugly than I remember, yet he indeed possesses familiar traits of a man I once knew!"  

Taking a step forward, in order to approach the indicated walking undead figure, she suddenly paused for a moment, in order to gaze at an object on the ground in front of her. It was a delimbed finger crawling about on the ground, in it's attempt to reassemble itself to an owner. The finger's attempts would be intercepted however, as the mage leaned down in order to pick up and object, and hold it up in front of her face, appearing completely undisturbed by the fact that an undead finger was wiggling about in her front of her. The mage looked unusually concentrated, as she examined the undead finger from a few different angles, before turning her gaze to the undead city in a rather narrow eyed and suspicious manner. She was in the midst of attempting to figure out something. Something seemed off.
"He cannot be returned like 'this'." The mage finally spoke in a slightly assertive tone, as she turned back to her companions, displaying the undead wiggling finger in front of them. Indeed, in the dead brother's current state, all he would end up doing was becoming a deadly threat for the alive brother, as well as for any other living individual's around him. His body could not be brought back in it's current state. 

Meanwhile, as the massive war elephant and it's rider continued to approach even closer, a loud, excruciatingly terrifying, spectral whinnying of some sort would also suddenly be heard off in the distance, as they now joined into the undead fray. "I am unable to form another portal, yet…" The mage, nonchalantly toned, deemed it wise to now inform her comrades of, in the midst of the catastrophe.

As the tossed spear fell into the sand next to the mage, she temporarily looked up from her concentrated book searching, in order to curiosity gaze at the thrown object, in addition to taking a few moments to observe the mercenary, as well as the young girl and her unusual companions, who were all now engaged in battle against the massive amounts of undead hordes surrounding them. It did not take long for the previously quiet outskirts of the undead city, save for a few occasional undead moans here and there, to quickly become a chaotic and loud battleground, as a phoenix burned the undead from a above, a sphinx tore the mummified bodies apart, the girl combated with her katars, and the mercenary danced around with his blade. Undead quickly fell in droves, as various limbs and dried carcasses could be seen lying scattered all about the surrounding desert sands. This group, without a doubt, proved much more capable of handling themselves, in comparison to the previous group of mercenaries who had all fallen victim to the massive onslaught of undead. Despite the success of the ongoing massacre, however, the undead's numbers still remained quite strong. In addition, the heat of the sun would undoubtedly hasten the group's fatigue as battle continued on. Eventually, they would have to either relocate positions, or hasten their search before fatigue settled in too deeply on them.

The mage momentarily leaned over for a moment, in order to pick up the long ranged weapon from the ground, and stuck it into the sand next to herself, pointing upwards, as if it were a banner of some sort laying claim of the land. The fighting continued on, as the mage continued to flip through her book, until eventually she'd found the contents of her search. "Aha!" She eventually exclaimed, walked forward a few feet, "This was the one!" She continued, pointing her finger in the direction of a group of undead, and making utterance to the words of a spell of some sort. "Crystal verberto!" She exclaimed authoritatively, standing there a few moments, whilst continuing to point her finger at the undead horde, upon which nothing special seemed to happen. A surprised expression appeared upon her face, as she gazed back at the book again, and quickly began a second attempt, "Crystalla verbeno!" She tried again, adjusting her pronunciation as her finger continued to point in the same direction, once again without effect. "Crystallos verbero?!" She exclaimed a third time with another adjusted pronunciation, albeit with a much more uncertain tone this time, in comparison to her previous two attempts. The third attempt would prove successful, as the end of her index finger would suddenly began to glow with a dark blue aura, before emitting a thick, icy mist towards the indicated horde, which, upon contact, caused a large amount of the already slow moving carcasses to function even slower, and completely froze others. The desert sun, however, began to work quickly upon the frozen corpses, as water fervently dripped from their rotted bodies. Happily closing and placing the book back into her satchel, the mage walked back to the upright spear, removed it from the sand with both hands, and ran forward in order to whack a few body parts off the frozen mummies, before they could have a chance to unthaw from the heat. She used the object more like a long bat or beating stick of some sort, rather than it's proper use as an actual spear. Raising the long object up into into the air above herself, she forcefully brought it downwards, whacking away at the frozen bodies multiple times, rather unfashionably, displaying her obvious unfamiliarity with the weapon. Unfashionably or not, however, the method still seemed to somehow get the intended job done.

Watching as her two familiar human companions stepped through the portal, as well as the additionally accompanying phoenix and sphinx, the mage's following expression revealed herself to be highly pleased, as she took a brief moment to salute the gawking crowds and retrieve her enchanted scroll from mid-air, before jumping into the portal herself. As she did so, the portal instantly closed behind her.

Jumping out of the portal, into the familiar outskirts of the undead city, she appeared with the group with a highly enthusiastic expression upon her face, joyful of the fact that she had an opportunity to redeem herself. The orange haired mage had also experienced slight disorientation upon exiting from the other end of the portal, however, by now she had grown quite accustomed to her own spell, and therefore almost immediately regained her composure without much trouble, in comparison to the younger female. At the girl's inquiry, the mage's expression could be seen shifting into deep thought, as she took a rather considerably lengthy amount of time to recall her memories. She was generally not one to pay deep attention to the details of others, unless she had spent a considerable amount of time with them, or had deemed them as very important to herself somehow. Yet, she had spent less than a day with the now dead brother. The bitter man within the tent had been quite sorrowful concerning the loss of his brother, as he had been very close to him, yet Izzey had felt little to no connection with the fallen brother herself, and therefore hadn't payed much attention to his details before the incident. He had just seemed like another typical mercenary protecting the camp in Izzey's eyes. The process, for a time, seemed almost completely hopeless, as she continued to stand there in obviously deep thought, attempted to recall the man's appearance. 

Biting her bottom lip, she turned her gaze to the mercenary, and then eyed his weapon. Upon doing so, her eyes suddenly widened. "Right!" She finally exclaimed. "He had one of these crude inventions! The long pole with a sharp blade!" The woman's description of the weapon, as she described it's characteristics, rather than mentioning the actual weapon name itself, was enough to make one ponder whether the mage actually knew what a spear was called or not. "The pole with a sharp blade, and a coat of metal rings!" She continued enthusiastically. "And brown hair! Yes, brown hair!"

In the midst of her rather crude memory recalling descriptions, the massive groups undead hordes continued to slowly approach closer and closer around the group, from the city and surrounding desert area. The mage, however, seemed rather unalarmed, as she answered the mercenary's inquiry rather casually, "Well that is easy King Albrecht, we simply bring him back without killing ourselves!" She spoke with a confident and assuring smile, whether it actually assured him or not. 

With a snap the finger, another much smaller portal briefly opened up in the midair slightly above her, and dropped an object of some sort out of it, which the mage caught with one hand, before the portal immediately expired from existence. The object revealed itself to be a book, and a very old and worn book at that, as were a large majority of her more unusual possessions. The designs of it's heavily worn hardcover were mostly faded, and the pages of the book had browned with age. Though the book, for the most part, still seemed usable, there were quite a few wearings and tears throughout the covering and pages. In the middle of the front cover of the book, was a beautifully inscribed title of some sort, yet completely illegible to most eyes, as was a majority of the the pages within the book's contents, as they were written in a unfamiliar script of some kind. Flipping through the pages, and moving her finger over various readings, diagrams, and sketches within the old and worn book, she mumbled a few of it's contents to herself as she searched through it. Scratching her head, with a highly concentrated and puzzled expression, she mumbled, "It was in here somewhere….." Meanwhile, the massive numbers of undead hordes continued to approach the group closer and closer.. 

As the red haired younger female slowly got up, and began to bow almost prostrate towards the bitter-hearted brother, Izzey looked up from the ground in order to observe the scene, a surprised expression upon her face. It would not be long, before the mercenary would also stand up and join the scene, in order to further offer his services to the man who was suffering the terrible loss of his brother. The man gazed at the two figures for some time, greatly shocked. He could not immediately form a response, but could only stare in awe, after the amazingly unexpected and astoundingly humble reaction from the young girl, in addition to the willingness of the mercenary who had previously smacked his hand to protect to same woman he'd choked.
"I've seen what the dead become there." The man finally found the words to speak, "The last group of hired hands who fell to those accused undead, later rose up as the very things they died fighting against. They became the very enemies they risked their lives protecting the camp against. The thought of my brother becoming one of them is unbearable. If his body could be returned, and he could be saved from such a fate in that accursed undead city, I would be extremely grateful." Staring at the girl and the mercenary a little while longer, he would continue, "But the thought of seeing you two becoming like that as well, and sharing the same fate, would be even more heartbreaking." With a pause, he looked specifically at the younger girl, "Especially you, little girl, even if your sister is completely nuts." 

It would be at this time, Izzey would finally stand back up, and begin to finally speak again, her proud and boastful tone returning. "King Albrecht and the vision of my youth are not as fragile as you think! And Izzey the Great must redeem her name! Behold, we right that which is wrong, set straight what was crooked! For my name shall not be one of disgrace, but of victory and legend! They do not journey alone, but shall be accompanied by the mightiest practicer of the magical arts in all the land!" She spoke with open arms high into the air. After the mage's speech, the man was reminded of how much he loathed the woman, shaking his head in response at her antics, yet this time with much calmer anger and less bitterness. "I would like nothing more than to see you cursed and walking around as one of those undead, mage." The man continued,  "But even greater than that desire, is to see my brother return for a proper burial away from the corrupted place, saved from the fate as one of those walking undead"

It would not be soon after his statement, that that sound of the mage's footsteps would begin to signal the path for her next great endevour, as she began to walk with her usually confident stride once again towards the tent exit. Standing directly at the entrance, the mage began to make her exclamation aloud to the passing crowds of people, "Behold, redemption has presented itself to clear my name! Fear not, fair sojourners of this feeble refuge, Izzey the Great shall relieve you of your great misfortunes, and bring deliverance from this undead catastrophe!" The passing crowds, as well as the nurses, simply gazed at the woman's antics with mixed expressions of surprise, confusion, and curiosity. The man made a grunted sigh, not a fan of the woman's antics. 

Izzey then, began to reach into her satchel on her side, and pulled out an enchanted scroll. Holding the scroll up, she let it unfold on it's own, revealing it's enchanted contents. Various moving syllables and symbols could be seen moving about throughout the scroll, perhaps various spells she'd transcribed throughout her adventures, many of which were recorded in long dead languages, and completely unintelligible. As she removed her hand, an astonishing phenomenon took place, as the unfolded scroll continued to float in midair on it's own.
Moving her hands about, as if she were forming an invisible sphere of some sort, a red crimson aura began forming and growing in each of her palms, until a familiar scene would reappear again, one which the mercenary was most likely quite familiar with. A black dot appeared in the middle of the air, and within due time it began to gradually expand, forming a large black ring from the dot. Inside the ring could be seen the reflection of their next destination; the outskirts of the undead city, located within eye view of the refuge. She would take them straight into the heart of the catastrophe, saving them the trouble of battling through the numerous hordes of undead scattered all throughout the desert. "To redemption we go!" Exclaimed the enthusiastic mage, once in bed and barely able to effectively function, and now re-energized for a completely new endevour, straight out of the medical tent.

The scene has caused passing crowds to move away from the portal, and quite a few greatly surprised gasp. Many stared at the strange phenomenon with wide eyes and slightly opened mouths, while others reacted in more cautiously, making additional efforts in order to avoiding the area altogether, by keeping a far distance from the odd abnormality now located in midair.

At the younger girl's rather direct inquiries, Izzey continued to look at the ground for a time. She began to open her mouth, in an attempt to answer, but only ended up biting her bottom lip instead, stopping herself. It was without a doubt most unusual for her to act in such a way, as normally she was quite confident and unrestrained when it came to answering questions, regardless of how direct they were.

"Yes." Came an stern voice from afar. It was the voice of the man who had choked her earlier. "Why don't you tell them, mage? Tell them 'exactly' what happened." His tone was stern and persuasive as he spoke, wanting the woman's doings to be laid bare, in order for everyone else to know what had happened. Remaining silent, the mage slowly made her way to sit at the nearby cot Albrecht had sat at, still looking downward.

"She was a mess when she was first brought in." Lightly spoke one of the nurses. By now, the other nurses had already returned back to their normal duties, deeming it much wiser to do so, rather than continuing to stand and observe the situation, given that the atmosphere of the conversation had grown extremely tense. "Three sword gashes on her side, and bruise to the head; She was bleeding out so much, that we wasn't sure if she'd make it or not. But this camp has gathered the best healers in all the realm. Fixed her right up we did, as good as new. She was lucky to have been brought to us; Anywhere else, and she'd most likely been a goner."

 "An excursion.." The mage solemnly spoke up, after the nurses statement. "Treasures and gold, secret magic long lost in time, that's what lies hidden in the pyramid.." While the statement itself would, without a doubt, be one of completely irresistible temptation for most adventures, her tone during the statement had greatly reduced it's appeal. She spoke with deep somberness, as if she were speaking for a funeral. Looking up at at the mercenary from the ground, her eyes communicated a rather desperate desire defend herself against her condemnation, hoping he'd at least be one to understand the reasoning of her actions, "The map King Albrecht, the secrets long lost in time, don't you remember them? There were there, lying in the pyramid…they are 'still' there."

The man sitting on the other cot, would quickly untangle the mage's obscurity, as he spoke up in order to further add to the explanation, "The command was clear, 'Do not approach the Pyramid'. It was a simple task; clear enough undead around the camp and city outskirts, in order to avoid overpopulation, and becoming overrun." Pausing, he noticeably glared at the mage, "But this fool here, couldn't hold back her greed, and convinced more than a few naive men into her madness. 'Treasures and gold!' She couldn't shut her mouth about, igniting ambition into men's hearts which wasn't supposed to be there; an ambition which would lead every single one of those men to their deaths. 'That's' what this woman did."

At the man's further explanation, Izzey looked back down at the ground again, complete ashamed. 

"You should've died right there mage, you should've died right there in that undead city alone. Not 'him'—not my brother." A empty silence completely filled the room, after the man's final statement.   

The peeking figure had now fully revealed themselves, as they eventually made a full entrance in the medical tent. Izzey gazed at the figure, as her brain attempted to repeat the same process of recognition, as it had done upon seeing the familiar mercenary again, in order to recognize the younger girl. She felt a blue shawl wrapped around herself, and a patting. As the magic of the blue shawl did it's work, the sleepy eyed and wearied faced mage would begin to feel a warm and calming sensation throughout her mind and body. Her mental alertness was beginning to return back to former glory, and the world around her became relevant again. Her wearied face also slowly began to take on it's former lively countenance, and her sleepy eyes began to widen back to their usual charm. With newfound strength, she stared at the group around her with a fresh perspective, mentally revived. The younger girl's concerned inquiry to the mage, would soon receive it's nonverbal answer, as the mage suddenly stood up on her feet, her proud and enthusiastic stature, revealing itself once more.

"The gods have ordained it!" The mage suddenly exclaimed throughout the tent, greatly startling the nurses, and catching the attention of the previously whimpering man. Her voice, albeit still somewhat horse, and still less in volume than normal, was returning back it's former glory. The mage had often been labeled as mentally unstable by others, yet one thing that no one could deny, was that she was quite a great speaker. One could only wonder, if perhaps, before some unfortunate incident, she might have possibly been a noble or highly educated individual of some sort.

Raising both her hands, and placing it upon the younger girl's shoulder who had eased her wearied body and mind, "Vision of my youth!" She exclaimed with excited and sparkling eyes, staring at her for a few seconds, before turning her attention back to the taller and older mercenary. "Great king Albrecht!" She continued, giving him a royal bow. "Izzey the Great thanks you both for your great aid!"
Extending her arms, she grabbed hold of the two, in order to hug them at the same time. Wrapping one arm around the girl, and the other around the nearby mercenary, she seemed to create a strangely awkward clumping together of the three, rather than what would be described as an actual hug. The nurses looked on, completely baffled by the woman's behavior. This 'hug' remained for a few seconds, before the mage eventually released them. Upon the released hug, however, something would reveal itself upon the mages face, something her prideful and boastful expression rarely exposed; regret. "I regret to inform you, Izzey the Great, has made a grave mistake…" She eventually admitted, her voice sounding rather dramatic, as it lowered in volume during the second half of her statement, as she looked down toward the ground, revealing shame. 

The once sorrowful facial expression of the man from the resting bed, was beginning to again show signs of gradual anger rebuilding itself, as the mage began to speak of the incident. Additionally, to see her up and about, and full of lively energy again, further increased the man's bitterness towards her. He truly loathed the fact that the mage was somehow still alive, despite the tragic incident.

In her unfortunate predicament, a few brave and greatly concerned nurses had attempted to pry the man away from the choking mage, whose recently awoken sleep was about to repeat itself, as she found it becoming more and more difficult to breathe overtime. The strength of the man, however, would prove to be something the fragile-armed nurses could not overcome. Despite all this chaos, Izzey, oddly enough, seemed not to be concerned at all with her current wellbeing. In fact, she didn't seemed concerned with anything at all in the room, as she continued her absent minded gaze outside of the tent's entrance, not even paying attention to the figure who was currently choking her. A pair of curious eyes eventually appeared at the scene, attempting to examine the situation. She could not see the entire frame of the peeking individual, however, the blue-green hue of those eyes, somehow seemed very familiar to her, and Izzey was rarely one to recognize people based on small details, meaning this person had made an influence upon her subconscious, somehow. Furthermore, the vague view of the individual's similar hair color, also seemed very familiar. It was someone she'd known before, yet at this current moment, she couldn't quite remember who.

As the mage's eyes began to slowly close back, in preparation for another slumber, she would find herself abruptly dropping to ground. The pleading nurses quickly retreated back, upon witnessing the momentary acts of aggression, fearful of being caught in it. With a thud, Izzey found herself sitting on the floor, with her back against the wall. Her assailant, yelled momentarily, as he quickly reclined his hand away, and began to hold his wrist in suddenly unexpected pain. He didn't seem to suffer too serious damage from the whack, aside from temporary pain, and broken pride. Staring at the mercenary with a held wrist, as the man spoke his stern statements, and then back at the nurses, who returned a rather fearful expression in response, his hands were brought a little above his forehead, moving back his hair as he did so, non-verbally communicating his inner frustration. The man slowly made his way to a nearby resting bed, placed his face into his hands, and began to lowly weep with great sorrow.

"Are you all right, Miss Ius?" Would suddenly speak the voice of her rescuer. The mercenary was returned with a blank look, as the mage's brain took it's time to affiliate the familiar voice and face, with a name of same sort. "King Albrecht!" She suddenly responded, her expression shifting from an absent minded gaze, to a wearied smile, as her mind now currently returned back to the present moment. Her usually loud, bold and greatly enthusiastic tone, was currently a hoarse and less lively version of itself. Staring up at the man, her gaze would communicate she was still not all quite there yet, as she stared at him with a wearied and sleepy looking expression. "I saw blue eyes today, isn't that wonderful?" She continued. 
The nurses looked at the mage with a worried expression of great concern after the statement. "Are you okey, ma'm?!" They asked, not referring to her physical condition, but rather her mental condition. "They were quite sparkly, don't you think?" Izzey continued on. The worry on the nurse's faces increased, as they now began to ponder if their patient had suffered mental damage, despite her positive physical recovery, from her survival of the undead city. Unfortunately, they had not met Izzey beforehand, in order to understand her overall mental condition.

A great instability had unexpectedly appeared within the desert lands of Harena. Countless hordes of undead suddenly had now begun to awaken from their burial locations throughout the desert, in a merciless onslaught against the living, while from the sands rose the remnants of a formally great city, now long forgotten with time.
She had seen this great city with her own eyes; memories of the ancient runes replayed in her mind. She remembered the various domed towers and pavilions built in dedication to gods now long forgotten, and the bright illumination of eerie green which spread all throughout the city. Most vivid of all, was she remembered seeing the great and towering pyramid which sat situated in the very middle of the ancient city.
There had been a craving at that time, it was a very strong craving of some sort, a craving completely incapable of being suppressed; the craving for the knowledge and secrets long forgotten, hidden within that pyramid. She remembered feelings of ambition and great enthusiasm. It was all beginning to return to her again. 
But there had also been screams there, agonizing screams of some sort, the kind which haunted people in their nightmares. It was then she suddenly remembered that she had not taken part in this endevour alone, but there had been others with her, others who had shared an ambition of their own, which lead them to the undead city. Yet, who exactly those people were, she couldn't quite remember at this moment. Their faces seemed forgotten and completely lost to her, at this point in time, and she was unable to even form the slightest image of their remembrance within her mind. Finally, she remembered an end. Yes, all her endevours had somehow suddenly came to an abrupt end, as her world had suddenly descended into a deep darkness, her mind went blank, and her body had become completely incapable of moving.

"Pyra…mids…" She mumbled, albeit lowly, attempting to maintain the fire of her endevours. 

""She's alive!" Shouted another joyful voice.

Opening her eyes, the entire environment seemed to change in an instant. She was no longer within proximity of the same pyramids she once held vivid sight off before, yet she never remembered actually leaving the place. The current environment was far too bright for her sudden awakening, and she squinted her dreary eyes for quite some time, trying to adjust to the sudden change in brightness.

"Where is she?!" Shouted another more authoritative voice, one much more angry and less joyful of her awakening " "Where is the hell is she?!"

"Sir, please calm yourself!" Pleaded another voice. The plead would be heard in vain, however, as Izzey, would suddenly find herself lifted up directly from her resting bed, into the air, and against a wall. Something was strongly gripping against her neck; it was a hand. "Sir, don't!" continued to plead the other voice, seeming much more concerned with Izzey's safety than her current possessor.

"You killed them!" Shouted her current possessor's voice, one full of a mixture between rage and sorrow. Izzey's view was still blurry, and she could not make out much of the appearance of current possessor, nor her surroundings. Everything looked like colored blobs and shapes. As her eyes slowly adjudicated to it's environment, a clearer view of the man would come into sight. He was a large man, attired in leather. His face was heated and red, overflowing with great emotion as he stared at her rather intensely and intimidatingly. "You led them to that cursed city!" He continued loudly, "You led them right into their deaths! You should've been the one left to die! I wish the undead had torn you apart!" He continued.

As memories began to slowly resurface, things were beginning to make more sense now. Yes, that 'was' what had happened. Recalling the agonizing screams she'd heard, that was exactly what had happened….

Dreary eyed, she took a moment to examine the surroundings of her unfortunate circumstance. She appeared to be in a clinic of some sort. How she'd gotten there, she hadn't a clue. Eyeing the various activities which were taken place outside the open door of the clinic, it became clear this was no city, but an outpost of some sort.