Icarus coughed blood as he hung, nailed to a tree with puncture wounds in his wrists and ankles.  It was a rudimentary form of crucifixion, but such trees of woe were common in many of the less refined, more archaic civilizations of his homeworld and, unsurprisingly, this world as well.  This moment he held of pain had persisted for a day and a half thus far, his punishment for his interference with a violent sect of some ancient cabal to an old faith.  

His assignment a week ago was simple.  He was sent to retrieve the daughter of a noble from this cult dedicated to the dark god Undragar.  Known by few but steadily growing in popularity, it was a faith dedicated to the eradication of the kingdoms of Canelux and Parvpora, removal of magic from the world save those of the faithful, and the resurrection of those that should not be remembered.  Crackpots they may be, but their following was slowly extending across the continents and the secretive cult was growing despite the enforcement of the kingdoms imposing a purge of their members.  

From there, he had gone through his usual steps, analyzing, formulating a plan of attack that he could pursue with relative ease before developing others that were significantly more difficult.  The problem was, the more intricate his plans, the more likely they were to work when it came to him.  On the other hand, the simplest ones were often the ones that caused him the most trouble but were still the easiest to use, giving him opportune time to work his way into other ones when necessary.

He began by pursuing her to the last known location she had been in prior to her disappearance.  The journey Icarus took sent him to the Kingdom of Adeluna and into the sprawling city found there, the very capital from which the nation owed its namesake.  As always, he perused the local taverns, paying coin in paltry sums whenever possible to gain information.  He wore his mask to hide his identity, though at this point, it was as likely to alert others to him given the things he had done while wearing it.  

Some of the things he had done while wearing it identified him very quickly.  His mask had been seen in half the regions of Canelux and often enough, something terrible followed shortly thereafter for those of less than admirable moral standing.  Truthfully, it all began with his attempt to capture a pirate lord in Vilpamolan; an attempt that ended in failure.  Afterward, events that played out in Mamlak and other towns proved to only bring more attention to the mask that preceeded the deaths of those that would harm others for profit or malice.

It took him some time, but Icarus found enough information to piece together a hidden entrance into the catacombs beneath Adeluna City that led into secret antechambers not used in centuries until recently.  The decay and corruption had been obvious from the moment he came upon it, simply observing the area before he would set out the next day.  His last memory was drinking his mug of ale and within a few minutes, the world was spinning.  

When he first woke up, there were those of the cult dressed in robes and bearing masks of blasphemous gods and torches.  The stimulus that had awoken him was the surge of pain as the first of the nails was driven through his left wrist.  The pain had been intense enough to nearly cause him to pass out again as the next was driven in and the cult drove in the final one, pinning his feet to the tree of woe.  The gaze one of them gave him as they walked away matched the eyes of the woman he had been hired to retrieve.  They were all he could see, but he would not mistake them even from beneath his own mask and the horrid pain he was suffering.

With that, Icarus was left to suffer.  He supposed he could last at least two more days, but if help did not come soon, he likely would be incapable of healing in a reasonable amount of time.  Her eyes had shown remorse, meaning she wasn't fully a member and their glossy nature indicated something was off about her, as though she were somehow being pressed against her will.  Icarus tried to think calmly on the situation and came empty on any method he could use to extract himself that didn't involve tearing his hands or feet off entirely.  It was unfortunate, but for the time, it seemed he would have to wait.

[OOC: Piano wire sub = rope.]
 
Adeluna, because of its economy of agglomeration, was home to cult and shop alike. Everyone in the business of family or organization needed some means of acquiring necessities and materials at some point, and so they, typically, coalesced around large trading centers like the jewel of Canelux. The cult of Udragar was no different.
 
Natsumi had encountered the handiwork of that group on occasion, finding slaughtered animals in the wild and small cells hiding out in Virens Forest. However, because she never had any leads to a larger threat, she was never able to track down the source of these unpleasant neighbors. Additionally, killing and displaying the bodies of the stragglers had, thus far, proven insufficient to quell their acts of torture. It seemed a hopelessly endless conflict, and one that the druid had no interest in wasting energy on without more information.
 
On the day that she actually found a promising lead to an end, she was shopping for clothing in the city with Saya. She wanted her daughter to get a taste of civilization, since she'd been stuck in the wilds ever since her departure from her homeland. The small girl in a simple dress and ragged boots had hugged Natsumi's leg tightly during the whole trip, clearly scared of the many people bustling around her. The druid did her best to be patient and comforting during this time, however, and eventually finished the day with several new garments to keep her daughter comfortable during the coming snow and rain.
 
With the day's task done, the family of two was now on their way home. Their plan was to get to the edge of the city and then open a gate back to camp, but they didn't quite make it all the way before the cloaked Natsumi paused just outside the main gate.
 
"Saya, mommy is going to have to send you home ahead of her," she said in a sweet voice, trying not to alert her daughter to the ill sensation that had just flowed in from the north. It was a foolish attempt, as the little girl could sense foul magic just as easily as her caretaker.
 
"B-be c-careful, Notsume." She stuttered in response. Saya still wasn't comfortable referring to Natsumi as her mother, nor was she very confident at using common tongue. The first fact did sadden the young woman, but she understood why her adopted daughter felt that way. Apoy Island wasn't that long ago, and Saya still remembered her biological mother from before she became an outcast. It was a hard transition for everyone, and one Natsumi had tried her best to cope with.
 
"I will be. I promise." The elder Yamauchi hugged her daughter, tasting the irony that her responsibility was actually turning into genuine love. Saya's adoption had started as a situation of necessity, but it transitioned into a gift that the druid was eager to protect. She wouldn't put this fragile person in danger, no matter what, and so she sent little Saya, along with the bag containing the day's purchases, back through a portal to Virens before pressing on toward a small grove north of Adeluna's main gate.
 
The sensation of unholy magic mingled with the scents of blood and bodily waste the closer Natsumi drew to the aforementioned woods. It put her on edge, especially when she passed a branch to discover a crucifix in use. The sight of a masked man pinned to a tree reached her eyes, and was more than enough for her to feel glad having sent Saya home already.  
 
"How cruel," the young woman said while moving closer to the bloody mess. "Death should be swift, when possible. Torture benefits no one." A pitiful gaze fell on the distorted mask of a vigilante that, while notable in towns, remained unknown to the wilds. Wind blew off the hood shielding the stare from the afternoon sunset as the druid thought on how to free the human, exposing the fox ears that had become her most noticeable calling card. It wasn't long before she realized that there would be no easy way to liberate her host. "This will hurt, but less so than if you weren't sedated."
 
Taking one last moment to assure no one was watching, Natsumi moved close enough to touch the pinned swordsman. She reached out to each impaled limb, using a modified hibernation spell to dull the nerves leading out to them. Then, when she was sure that the afflicted areas were properly anesthetized, she summoned a thin, piece of piano wire; wrapped it around each stake; and pulled them out with brute force. Rejuvenation spells came from Kino in tandem with the methodical, stake removal, staunching the bleeding as best they could. Only when the immediate danger of the crucifixion was past would the healer take the time to examine any secondary conditions that had come about. In the mean time, she just wanted to make sure the torture victim could lie down.  

The mountains were cold, but his breath was warm. It caught on the air in a tangle of white life, each exhalation a gift to the sun and the pines and the endless earth below. In and out, in and out, his awareness pulsed like a heartbeat through the soil. It expanded slowly, sightlessly revealing the worms that crawled beneath between roots, the stones that anchored the ground to itself, the fungal terraces that connected an ocean of dirt in a single vibrating consciousness. These lives and energies were foreign to him at first, for they were different that the wilderness of his home. But of course they were the same in all the ways that mattered. It was an important distinction, though one which he had learned to appreciate rather late in life.

One thing that he had not yet learned, that which he had come to this place to discover, was the power and significance of civilization. His meditative senses seemed to flinch at the brink of Adeluna’s walls, recoiling from the carved stone and cut wood and sinking toward the deep earth beneath. His earthsense could not reach within, and his instinct told him that he shouldn’t care. All those people, stolen from their right to sustain themselves and crowded together alongside their own refuse and disease, seemed to think that protection was worth the price of freedom. But still he pressed on. He could not presume to argue until he knew more about them.

So it was that he knew nothing of ancient gods or modern religions, nor of most of the activities which plagued these strange southern cities. He had never entered the great white metropolis itself; the last time he had found the opportunity to cross through the walls of so-called civilization, he had been greeted with the malodor of humans burned alive in service to some other goddess. No—though he had found himself close to the Jewel, he had not yet bothered to mine her from the mountainside. He kept to the wilds, hunting and surviving and protecting a people he did not know from monsters they would never see. If anything, Gaius Anseriph was a creature of habit.

His investigation was cut short when another breath expanded his Sight only a few more yards. There was a foulness beneath the city, wrapped up in a web of bones and spidering outward on legs of influence that he could not quite comprehend. Gaius faltered when he felt it, unsure what to make of it. Another breath revealed the latest victim of their influence: a strangely familiar soul that was fading from mortality. Like an insect cocooned in evil and nearly drained of its life force, the body was speared by iron to the despair of a sleeping oak. Gaius opened his eyes.

He saw the clearing he had chosen about half a mile out of town, and the halberd he had leaned against one tree. He took it without a second thought, then made urgently for the main road. By the time he arrived, the man had already been pulled down. The soil drank of what little blood was left to be spilt, hungry for the nutrition of his decomposition. Gaius did not attempt to hide his approach as he slowly began to recognize the warmaster, an old acquaintance and worthy ally. He wanted to say his name, though could not remember it. He stopped at about five feet away.

“What happened?” He asked the woman, knuckles white on the shaft of his weapon. Clearly she was helping him, and expertly so—still, Gaius could not bring himself to trust a person he did not know. There were a thousand reasons she would be kneeling over the body of a tortured and dying man, and only a few of them were particularly noble. There were healing herbs in his pack, but he would only pull them out once he felt certain he did not need his hands for use of his blade. “Did you see? Will he live?”

(OOC:  Short post due to it being a transition prepping for him briefing the mission to them after he recovers)

Icarus coughed, awaking from being in a comatose state while being healed by a woman he did not recognize.  His wounds had already healed on their own, the subconscious magical pressure within his body enabled him to consistently rejuvenate his body and seal his wounds when he suffered them.  Albeit, it had been some time since he had the requirement to use it or the sufficient ability to tap into his magic that would allow such things to happen, but his ability did in fact take effect slowly.  It was akin to utilizing his ability to teleport again for the first time since his arrival in this world.

His sheer willpower fueled his essence and increased the power of his magic exponentially as a result.  Much of the time, Icarus found himself incapable of wielding any magic intentionally, attributing his bizarre moments of increasing his abilities to his own talent and the guiding hand of fate.  It seemed fate had spared him once more and as his eyes opened, he glanced to the side to now see Gaius present as well.  His concern for the situation was a good turn as he did not readily trust the woman despite the fact she was using healing magic to augment his own.

Everything around him smelled of dirt, sacrilege, and blood.  The cult had made a mockery of him and now his wrath was invigorating him and despite his weakness, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he would return to cull every last member of the cult and take the noble's daughter back to him.  He heard Gaius' voice inquiring as to his fate and whether the man once called The Black Swordsman would live.  Letting out a faint smile, he looked toward the man that he had faced down Orcs in the Highlands alongside only a few short months ago.

"Can't be killed until Fate is done with me," he said with a chuckle.  With that, he passed out, content for the moment that he was in safe hands.  The day for him was over, but he had faith that by tomorrow or within the next coming days, he would heal and could call upon Gaius and perhaps even this woman if there were a chance she might want to earn some coin.

[OOC: Shifting this thread in my timeline a bit, so don't mind any lapses in personality between my first post and this one. Also assume that Natsumi returns via portal as promised so that you can give the briefing in your next post if desired.]
 
An approaching, armed stranger was not the most pleasant development for the Ice Queen, no matter the circumstance. She had only just caught the falling Icarus after the last spike was removed when Gaius showed himself, and was busy settling the giant of a man on the ground when her new guest questioned her involvement. He was obviously concerned, though whether his concern was positive or negative remained to be seen. Regardless, the fact of the matter was that he was a nuisance just itching for an excuse to use his halberd, and that made Natsumi less than amicable toward his presence.
 
"He's been here for a day and a half, and, at that time, I was several miles away," the fox girl responded sardonically to her interrogator. She didn't even bother looking up at his face while doing so, and simply kept observing the magic within Icarus' body without breaking eye contact. Clearly, she thought little of his involvement, but still bothered to answer the rest of his questions. "So, no, I didn't see what happened. I saw a tortured man who would live with a little healing when I arrived, so I helped him down instead of putting him out of his misery. I detest the act of torture and those who practice it. I need no other excuse to stop its execution."
 
The swordsman awoke in the moments following that rather formal way of telling Gaius to "back the hell off." He was coherent enough to smile and make some sort of statement about fate being the reason he would survive. Natsumi called bullshit in her head almost immediately, knowing that it was just insanely good luck that Icarus had to thank for his life. Even if she hadn't used healing magic on him, he would have survived with only removal from the tree. Various observations of his internals were evidence enough of that, and so Natsumi decided, quite easily, that she was no longer needed.
 
"He'll be fine," she said as soon as the delusional male in front of her finally let himself pass out. She stood up from her position on the ground before saying anything else after that, and then turned to face Gaius for the first time since his arrival. "His body has natural healing capabilities, and his internal tissues are already repairing themselves without my interference. He'll need water, food and a good night's rest before he's back to normal: all things you seem perfectly capable of providing."
 
Natsumi was being serious when she took the time to push responsibility for her patient onto her interrogator. He was obviously a friend of the wounded man and had more of stake in his survival, considering that he bothered to ask questions instead of attacking outright. That, combined with the fact that the Ice Queen was far from altruistic toward strangers, gave her little reason to stay and personally oversee the recovery process of someone she didn't know. Saya was also waiting at home for supper already, and, being the responsible mother that she was, Natsumi wasn't going to cede priority from her little girl to unknown men.
 
Gaius didn't need to know that, though. He just needed a time frame for when the doctor would return: one that she willingly provided before opening a portal home.
 
 "I'll return here to this exact spot in 12 hours to address any lingering issues," she promised while on the edge of that gate. "It's Natsumi, by the way. I own a shop to the west of here and go by the pseudonym Ice Queen. You might have heard of me."
 
In truth, it didn't matter much to the druid if her charge refused his assignment before she vanished. If Gaius turned out to be an enemy in disguise, Icarus would undoubtedly perish. That outcome was very much a possibility, seeing as first impressions were rarely accurate; but it was one the healer would be accepting of were it to occur. After all, she was not your typical cleric that pined over her patients without end. Icarus trusted Gaius, and far be it from Natsumi to correct his potentially poor judgment.