The tunnel was not dug with Drakon in mind, made painfully evident as the brothers found themselves shrinking ever more inward to keep moving through it.

The tunnel and its design were foreign to both the Drakon and Sol. Had either of their homes been in the industry of mining, they might have drawn a connection to the packed dirt and stone walls, clearly dug purposefully. As well as the wooden support beams that kept the roof from collapsing that the brothers had to continuously duck under.

They were on edge, not afraid, thanks to the work of the Oath. But none of them had been beneath the earth before, and the experience left them uneasy, compounded by the sense they were walking into a trap. What else could it be? But there was nowhere else to go but forward. Going back was not an option.

They squinted in the darkness, only able to find their way due the linear nature of the tunnel, stumbling forward as they did so.

Then the screams began.

It was as if someone had suddenly turned on the sound for them to hear, or if they'd crossed some threshold sound could not pass.

They were pleas, shouts of pain, and if one listened, weeping.

The three increased their pace, but as they moved forward, it was as if suddenly the sound was coming from behind them.

Argus spoke before they could get themselves turned around, "Keep going forward, it must be a trick." he grimaced, hoping he was right.

Eventually, the tunnel brought them to a door, a flimsy wooden thing, shoddily made.

The tunnel continued past it, but before they could decide on whether to keep going or to investigate the door, a voice spoke out from behind it.

"Do come in." its guttural and gravelly voice seeped from the spaces in between the door’s boards.

A shout of pain echoed down the tunnel.

Argus reared up and kicked down the door, pointing his sword forward. "Where are they?" he steeled himself, preparing for some assault on his mind or charming effect.

None came, an undead sat at a rickety desk behind the door.

A Zombie, for it, did not have the unique blue-glowing eyes of a wight. It appeared to be in the middle of paperwork of all things, writing information down in a massive ledger with a leather cover.

"Well."

The corpse, that of a middle aged woman with jade skin, smiled. "That was rude, but I suppose nothing particularly valuable was lost."

Argus hesitated, but then gave her a hard look. "Where are they?"

"Who? The prisoners?" She shrugged. "I'll tell you for a price."

Argus hesitated again, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. But an attempt to barter hadn't been it.

Another cry of pain, but now a different voice than the last one. This one was masculine and vaguely familiar.

"What is the price?"

"Tell me where your tribe is located." She met his eyes as she spoke the words, but dipped her quill in ink well as she did so and went back to writing.

Argus blinked, his anger spiked in addition to his confusion. "Why would I… No."

The woman looked at him and shrugged, looking not at all disappointed. "Okay."

Argus blinked, his anger petered out. Leaving hardly anything but confusion. Before his eyes narrowed and he demanded. "Tell us where they are!"

"Tell me where your tribe is."

"No!"

And she shrugged again, continuing to work. Before looking up and asking. "You're about seven feet tall, yes?"

Argus was unbalanced, looking to his brother and Sol for clarification on what was happening but receiving none from his equally confused partners.

"I'll mark that as a yes, twins? The two of you?" She gestured between the two Drakon. "Hmm. Shame about the Oaths, hard to salvage those. But you're big, so Wights for you."

She turned her head to Sol, somehow looking down her nose at him despite being situation lower than him in her seat.

"Hate clerics," She murmured. "So much lost potential. Zombie for you then." She wrote a handful of notes down.

Argus began to shift back into ire and stabbed his sword forward. "Tell us where they are!"

She eyed him with annoyance, "Tell me where your tribe is."

His sword began to glow, a red heat from his Oath's Sun chased into the blade. The desk she was working on beginning to smoke as he pressed the weapon's point into it.

"I can make you tell me," he spoke with eyes that burned with fury.

She looked up at him, then laughed. In that same guttural, damaged voice. "What are you going to do? Kill me?"

She turned her eye to the sword, and her desk, and made a noise of vague approval as Argus sputtered, underlining a word he now had the angle to see as 'wight.'

Argus's eyes narrowed, "Yes."

She mimed an exaggerated look of fear, "Oh no, whatever will I do!" before rolling her rotting eyes with a snort.

He scowled if he couldn't threaten her..."Why?"

She looked at him, a raised brow. "Why?"

"Why do you wish to know where my tribe is?"

"So you do have a tribe? And it's close?"

He set his jaw and asked again. "Why?"

She hummed, resting her chin in her hand. "Drakon makes excellent undead, naturally armed and armored. After we kill you two, we'll have an ample supply of ideal wight bodies, or perhaps even some ghouls."

Again Argus was shocked, blinking at the woman, then suddenly preparing to strike her down for even thinking of the thing she described.

Another shout echoed down the hall, thankfully the same voice. But it was growing weaker.

Argus eyed the woman, then lifted his sword and held it above the book she was writing in.

"I'll burn the book."

She didn't freeze, but she looked up at him with more annoyance now, before sighing. "We'll find out after you're dead then. Just keep going down the tunnel you fools."

He scowled at her and then drove the now red blade into the book.

"Hey!" she shouted, standing. But the book quickly caught flame.

He turned and left the room, as the undead woman tried to put the book out as they left, continuing through the tunnel.

The unease of the two Drakon grew as they moved forward, the realization that their kind and specifically their tribe and family may be pursued for function as necromancer’s preferred foot soldiers haunted them.

Argus felt an urge to turn back and slay the undead woman, whatever the odd creature was. As she was clearly no normal zombie.

But his training and presumptions of how undead worked had been handily shattered between both this new woman and the other who called herself Dore and so chose not to act rashly.

They continued to push down the hallway and eventually came to a junction.

"So much for 'keep going down the tunnel.'" Argus grumbled, but frankly, he was somewhat relieved. It meant he could neatly categorize the undead woman as an enemy, which he had assumed, but not known.

"Let me try." Sol offered. Before raising his hands up, channeling his goddess's favor in the darkness. "My lady, please, quicken our stride. Give us now your light to guide."

Sol tensed, then grimaced, a frown that seemed to grow with small drops of sweat forming on his head. "Something is trying to stop me..." despite this claim, hardly a moment later an orb of pale yellow light appeared hovering above his head, it slowly grew from snowflake size to about the size of Sol's hand.

The orb traveled somewhat down the left path of the intersection before vanishing once more.

"I'll summon it once more if we need it." Sol began answering the unasked question of why it had vanished. "But it's too taxing to keep up while fighting through whatever they're using to try to stop it." He wiped his forehead. "Where we are is also making it difficult, below the earth is not the domain of stars, suns or moons."

Asgar and Argus nodded, only vaguely understanding what he meant, but they followed where the light had traveled. The sounds of the pained man still echoing out in impossible directions.

They traveled quickly and soon found a pair of undead guards barring their entry to a door.

For once, the craftsmanship of the door was not lackluster, though neither was it anything special. It did look like a poor fit to the entryway surrounding It. As if it and its frame had been lifted from where it was intended to be and placed here. In fact, Sol, who had a passing knowledge of carpentry, suspected this was precisely the case.

Asgar found himself in front of the zombies before either Sol or Argus could fire off a spell or cover the distance. And struck outward at the first one with his ax.

The zombie was bisected with ease that surprised him, and almost threw him off-balance.

As the second shambled forward, he bashed outward with the shield. Smashing the zombie into the wall, pulverizing flesh and bone as it slid down in a heap.

Argus blinked at his brother, who looked back at him with surprise.

It wasn't just a mental effect. The strength of his Oath felt real.

Asgar turned and kicked at the door, blasting a hole through it and hopping on one foot so as not to fall as he disentangled himself from the door.

Argus strode forward and opened the door. Stepping in as his brother- somewhat who was now slightly embarrassed over his fumble, followed him in.

Any childish embarrassment vanished as they looked into the room, for they were looking at a sacrificial chamber.

Where the underground complex they had been searching through had packed dirt and naturally occurring stone, the room they entered deviated from this, as the walls of the circular room were made with stone brick.

Inbedded in these stone walls were prison cells, guarded by heavy oaken doors and wooden frames.

In the center of the doors were square windows, bared by iron bars.

Looking through these, they could see the interior of the cells, from which both red-skinned and pale bark-covered faces looked outward.

In the center of the room sat a wooden pillar, from which manacles had been nailed into.

Manacles presently filled by a beaten and bloody human the brothers recognized, Singard, the thief who had stolen their money from them. And he was covered in dozens- maybe hundreds of small cuts across his body.

And surrounding him were a half dozen other humans.

If they were to type to be involved in fantastical stories, or even true ones, they'd have imagined the half dozen humans armed with daggers to be dressed in robes, with masks fashioned like those of skulls.

Instead, they looked normal. Albeit bloody from their work, wearing work aprons more appropriate for a butcher, rather than people sacrificing something to a deity.

The six humans turned to the brothers, looking at them with uncertainty.

"Who are you?" An overweight, balding man called.

Argus's eyes locked on a small mound of corpses off to the side, then the surrounding circle, flooded in a layer of blood.

Asgar looked at his brother and the raging inferno that was beginning to emanate off of him. He leaned into his own Oath. The weight of his mantle grounding him, so as to not be carried off by his brother's rage as he called out. "Drop your weapons and surrender now!"

The man sneered, walking forward. "Are you more criminals then? We’ll sacrifice you like the rest!”

His companions seemed more hesitant than the man before the trio, shooting glances at the invading half-naked, mud-covered Paladins and Cleric.

“Criminals?” Argus snarled. “What crime did they commit?”

“They rejected the love of our master! Virion is the only god that truly cares! The new god of justice! To reject him is to reject all that makes us more than animals!”

Asgar looked at his two companions, both were visibly simmering with rage. But whether Sol's wrath was his own, or if he was just being carried along with the wave of anger coming from his brother, Asgar was unsure.

The paladin reached out and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Argus, they could be charmed."

The aura from Argus sputtered, the wave of anger relenting somewhat as Argus ground out.

"As my brother said, surrender. Knives will not pierce our scales. You cannot stop us."

"Can't they?" a guttural voice spoke out from behind him.

The undead woman stepped out from the tunnel behind him, she smiled and spoke. "A shame you didn't go down the right tunnel, I had a party red for you."

As she spoke, more figures came out from the darkness behind them, a trio of scorched undead, a corpse missing its head, and a dozen others following behind her.

Argus eyed the suddenly far more confident humans on the other side of the room, then turned and appraised her. "I should have slain you," he spoke almost glumly.

She shrugged. "If it makes you feel any better, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. One less undead to fight you."

Argus sighed in relief. "You aren't the leader then."

She smiled back at him. "I didn't say that."

The balding man called out. "Snake! Call more of the risen and crush these intruders!"

The trio's concerns spiked at the name of 'snake.' But the woman replied to the balding man. "Why? You're here."

The man's eyes bulged. "You expect us to fight these monsters with only a dozen of the risen?"

She blinked at him, then looked to the cohort of undead following her. "Well, I suppose I could let these..." she turned and counted, with agonizing slowness in the standstill.

"...fifteen, help you." She scratched her rotting chin in thought, taking a small chunk of flesh away as she did, which she flicked away with an afterthought.

A woman from the human group squeaked out. "You didn't intend to help us from the start?"

"no, why would I?"

"But... you're on our side!"

The woman shrugged. "I don't need you to be alive to be on my side, and Father Elliot isn't here to reprimand me if I let you die."

The humans looked at each other, slightly anxious once more after seeing the blatant indifference by their supposed protector.

Argus turned his gaze back to them. "You can still surrender, These..." He pointed to the band of undead guarding the entryway but hesitated as he saw the two his brother had slain at the door rising once more.

The undead woman waved him off "No, go ahead. I just totally forgot about these ones."

Argus squinted, and he ground his teeth as he pushed his aura into the blade, causing it to glow visibly red with heat. "...These will not be able to stop us. and neither will you."

Humans looked at each other, and the balding man shouted at the Drakon.

"We'll see!" then began with a rhythmic incantation."With this power, you've granted me to wield, by your will, my faith-"

Sol called out, "He's a cleric!"

As Sol spoke, the five other humans began their own chants.

Argus charged them, calling out to his brother. "Stop the undead!" as he danced forward and slashed down at the balding man.

Just as the strike was about to connect, a shield of ethereal light formed, repelling his glowing blade, before it suddenly rushed forward, floating in the air smashed into him, causing him to stumble back.

The female cleric who had spoken earlier finished her chant. "-a divine weapon!" suddenly a sword and ethereal match to the shield launched out from her palm as if she'd thrown it.

Argus ducked under the flying blade and smashed into the floating shield with his own, and with a grunt, began pushing it back.

Sol called out his own chant, ducking under another summoned spectral sword as he did. "Oh, My Goddess of Illumination! Bring these wretched souls a holy cremation!"

Three blasts towards the enemy clerics, two of which were absorbed by summoned shields, splattering against them like water.

But the third lanced through the throat of the young, pale-faced man. Who fell to the earth with a gurgle, causing the spectral sword he'd only just created to vanish with a vague popping sound.

A young woman beside him cried out in a grief-filled voice, "Adrian!" before turning at Sol and calling her shield to rush at him.

It smashed into his chest, throwing him to the ground.

He rolled to the side as the shield slammed down, pulling in air and beginning his chant again, throwing out another blast of three rays of heat and light at the defending clerics as he stumbled back to his feet.

"Duck!"

He dropped again as he heard Argus call to him, a sword slashing where he had been.

The blade pivoted mid-air and began to fly downwards on him before a shield blocked its passage towards its target, and Argus hefted the human to his feet, placing the man behind him.

"Asgar?" The Drakon protecting Sol called.

"I'm fine." was the answer, paired with a zombie being hurled through the air at one of the enemy clerics.

The zombies had slammed into Asgar like a tide and had been broken by him.

By using his Oath to avoid being dragged into the raging certainty of his brother's, he had found the ability to ground himself in a way both literal and mental.

What's more, unlike before, he allowed the full heat of his brother's sun to sear him. And now his ax glowed with a terrible warmth, aided by his now increased strength.

He was scything through the undead.

The undead woman audibly mused as he bodily flung another undead at the clerics. "I really hope I'm able to have the wight keep the Oath," she shouted over the din of combat to the rampaging drake.

"Hey! What's your Oath?" By way of reply, yet another undead was hurled, this time at her.

She deftly weaved out of the way, with an ease that should have been impossible for the shambling undead she appeared to be.

Asgar noted with keen interest that none of the undead grappling and grabbing at him were armed, and although he clearly recognized some of the bodies he was now fighting, when he struck them or threw them, they stayed down.

He called out, "Don't trust the undead to stay down!" before ducking under a flying spectral sword, which quickly turned mid-air and shot at his brother as he called out a warning.

It clashed into Argus's shield, as he parried another sword with his own.

He and Sol had been pushed back by the two spectral swords now harassing them, but the shields we're too busy defending the enemy clerics. The clerics of Virion were under a constant barrage by the cleric of Soltris.

Sol was pouring out furious storms of heat and rage out at them, as soon as a chant was finished, a new one would begin. And despite their numbers, the clerics found themselves tiring under the assault and the power allocated to them quickly running out.

While older than him, these clerics were new to their faith. Had he taken the time to think of it, he would have been impressed with the skill and power they wielded.

He didn't have time to think of it, however, just quickly chanting to and pulling from his much deeper well of divine favor and throwing out rays of flame to hold them down.

He knew that they would likely not be able to outlast them, as the constructs they were using had to be demanding a ridiculous amount of power.

Between chants, he spoke at a whisper so that only the paladin shielding him could hear.

"I think I can outlast them."

Argus nodded, knocked another spectral blade away as he dueled the other.

The zombies surrounding Asgar retreated, forming a circle around him as he surveyed them.

Despite the swarm attack, he surveyed himself and found no major wounds, some bent scales perhaps.

But no blood was drawn.

He looked at the still prone and unmoving form of the undead.

There were seven all together, three thrown like weapons as they tried to grapple and drag him down, and another four laid low by his ax.

He could not help but note that not a single one of them had been armed.

He looked at the zombified woman, who hummed softly and only vaguely paying attention to him. More focused and the continuing fight between sis brother and Sol as well as the clerics supposedly on her side.

A fight his companions we're winning if the way Sol and Argus were slowly closing the distance and pushing the clerics into a wall was anything to go by.

Asgar turned to the woman, "You're going to let them die." it wasn't a question.

She turned, before nodding her head with a smile. "If there's anyone who'll let me make undead clerics, it'll be Virion. And from what little I know of him, he may even thank me for it." She shrugged. "Being undead has many benefits."

Asgar looked down at the woman, with mounting disgust, but also fear, despite the Oaths.

She did not act as if she was in any danger, and he dearly hoped she was wrong.

He threw himself at her, ax cleaving forward, and almost stopped himself when he saw her reaction.

Which was to do nothing. She looked at him with idle interest and a smirk, then jutted her chin forward, as if inviting him.

He took the invitation, despite the unease and sense he was walking into a trap.

Easily as anything else, her head toppled off her shoulders, before rolling to a stop beside his feet.

Yet her body did not fall with it, and before he could react, another voice spoke, different yet the same.

"A shame, I kind of liked that one."

The undead beside the headless corpse began to speak, the body of an elven-kin man straightening upward, going from a hunched, shambling thing, to a relaxed but commanding stance.

"Oh, this one is nice and tall, I should use these ones more often."

Asgar looked at her, now equals in height. Off-balanced as his brother had been by the woman...or creature, he now dubbed in his mind.

She turned to him, "Alright, you can help with Elliot’s toys now, I've seen what I wanted too."

The circle of the undead around him opened, funneling him towards the clerics, who had not yet noticed.

He bolted through it. He could not handle whatever this dread creature was.

And despite it being what she wanted, he needed the support of his sibling and friend if he had any chance of taking her on.

He smashed into the first cleric, a young woman, who only barely noticed him before the impact crushed her into the wall.

An ethereal shield vanished, and as it did, a ray of flame burnt a hole through the balding man's head, causing yet another to fall.

"Surrender! You are betrayed!" Asgar called before any more slaughter could continue.

his brother and Sol stopped their assault. The clerics froze just as the voice called out from behind him. "That's cheating!"

He ignored it. "That thing will not help you! It wishes to make undead servants of you! Drop your weapons and cease your spells!"

The group of three remaining humans cowered before the far too close Drakon.

"But I wanted to see more!" an annoyed voice called from behind him.

If anything, this is what stirred the humans to surrender, dropping their daggers and dispelling the two swords and shields to vanish like mist in the air.

The two drakon and Sol turned towards the group of undead, weapons, and spells at the ready.

"What is going on, Asgar?" his brother called.

"It wanted us to kill the clerics, so it could claim control over them!"

Argus twirled his sword, looking at the three remaining cowering clerics that he had to fight down a seething disgust for, before turning to look at the undead thing. Now wearing an elven body.

"Why?"

She sighed. "I suppose I'll have to kill them now." She glared at three clerics, who, like everyone else in the room at this point besides herself, were incredibly confused about what was going on.

She looked to Sol, then Argus and Asgar, before finally settling her sight on the barely conscious form of Singard of all things, who seemed to be fighting to both pay attention, and stay awake.

"What, are you asking me to monologue?" she asked no one in particular.

Asgar and Argus shared a look, quite sure that this entity was far past sane, while Sol eyed the bodies he'd scorched, and mentally chastised himself for not making ash of them, as he was sure they wouldn't be able to be used as undead if made so.

Singard, seemingly invited to speak by making eye contact with the corpse, was the one to speak, with a voice hoarse and quiet. "...I wouldn't mind it."