Ura moves over to the halfling.  "Hey," she says.  "You want to help the Arbitrator, right?  I'm Ura, and I'm here to help.  C'mon, then."  She offers the halfling a hand, either to help him along or help carry the sword, whichever he prefers.

The halfling notices the other individuals crowding the undead littered streets, and turns to look at both Ura and the others, but says nothing to any of them. He is almost taken back at Ura’s offer for assistance, and attempts to jerk away from her offered hand. Bringing the sword to the knight, the halfling stood there silently, as D’armes used it to stand up right, and lean on it, blade tip to the ground, for support.

”Ready our packs, Blemish. We leave tonight, for the stronghold. The black beast has returned.” Without a word, the halfling turns and quickly waddles back the way he came and into the entrance of the shack at the base of the Arbitrator’s Spire. Watching the little man run could almost have been comical, had it not been for the corpses and puddles of bloody fluids, that he had to navigate.

"Rude bastard," Ura mutters under her breath, watching the halfling run.  She puts her hands on her hips and turns back to D'Armes.  "Hey.  I'm trying to be nice here, but I don't understand head or tails of this 'black beast' business.  Do you want us to butt in or out of it?  Because at this point..." Ura lifts her hands and drops them.  "As much as this literally smells like Zelda's handiwork, we can't help you if you won't help us."

“It wasn’t personal.” For the first time since his regaining of consciousness, D’armes said something that wasn’t driven purely by an unexplained motivation surrounding the greater good that only he was privy to. “He takes his role rather seriously, and accepting your assistance with the sword would have been you taking his responsibility. He’d likely consider it an insult towards him.”

D’armes stood, leaning heavily on his sword, both hands wrapped around the hilt. He breathed heavily again, though not quickly, like exhaustion setting in from something that occurred long before. “You seem to possibly know something that I don’t about what’s going on. I can’t be responsible for sending others into harms way.” 

He shifted on the sword as his right hand seemed to convulse and lose grip; anyone watching could tell that catching himself from falling was quite an ordeal physically for him to perform. “Help me to the spire and we’ll talk.” He nodded towards where the little dwarf had run off. “I promise nothing about the questions you may have, but at the very least I can offer tea as thanks, for the assistance.”

Having followed the group, Anearis listened in on the conversation between D’armes and the halfling. When he mentioned a "black beast", it reminded him of something. Something Felix mentioned right before they left Cathaan. 

"Black beast?" He said inquisitively. "You mean the one rumored to be in the Castle of Aaargh? It is real?"

It was with reluctance that Kel followed after as the group left the walls of the Maiden. Once more. ...so much for a meal... As if on cue his stomach rumbled in protest as he shifted the weight on his shoulders. ...Quiet you... He gave a small wave of his hand as he left, to no one in particular and kept a respectful distance of a few feet back from the rest of them. He couldn't place it, but if the Great Flame desired for his path to be lit with the fires of others, then so be it. He took notice of small things here and there, not actually certain who any of these people were aside from a name the other elf gave. ...Ura the elf...Goliath and his Hammer...Black Beast... Zelda...Castle of Aaargh... His brow furrowed. ...Aaargh? His mind came up with small bits of info he may have heard second hand from his time in the Temple. ...Isn't there a St. Aaargh in Cornwall? No, it was Ives... He muttered to himself, something to do with a place that may or may not have existed in some other train of thought. He shook his head to clear it, drank from his waterskin, and kept silent aside from a low rumble in the back of his throat.

Upon the decision from some party members to follow the Arbitrator, their progression had slowed to a near halt, as it took a considerable amount of time for the knight to drag himself back to the spire.

By the time you all reached the spire shack, the fog had receded even further, though while those with dark vision could see at least 30 feet or so, looking eastward, the black clouds to the west were still noticeably thicker. The torches that lined the street near the Maiden’s Bossom went out, potentially having been squelched with the perceived disappearance of threat.

D’armes steppes into the shack, leaving the door ajar for any of the party to follow. The shack was simple, but well put together, however, not at all defensible. The walls themselves appear like Uthal could have simply pushed them in. The shack itself was very bare, containing a crude desk and chair that faced the entrance, and benches lining the walls. Several torches in sconces on the walls were lit. That was the entirety of this dwelling.

”This way.” D’armes spoke without turning back to see who if any had actual followed him inside. While although much of the residue on his armor had dried. There was still a steady drip of a blackish red liquid from his right gauntlet, dotting a trail behind him on the wooden floor boards. He walked towards a door in the back of the room, in the direction of the spire itself.

Anearis followed along. There was much to discuss and D’armes could prove to be a valuable ally. In addition, the spire would probably be a more discrete location to speak, away from prying eyes and ears. 

The construction of the Arbitrator's spire was somewhat more along the lines of warranting the elven guard's boasting of it as the most defensible structure within the city walls. 

The first sign was that as you follow D'Armes through the door in the shack's rear, the wood of the door appeared to potentially be purely cosmetic. With the door held open, and the cross section exposed, the door, which was approximately 3 inches, or so, thick, only had about half an inch of wood, the rest seemed to be iron bars, that rested into a lockable metal doorframe. Through the door, upon entering the room, while open at the moment, anyone passing through would have to proceed through a wrought-iron cage, from floor to ceiling.

The room the knight led you through was approximately thirty feet across, from any direction, as the entire thing was circular, likely the entire base of the Spire. There were no windows, though in the ceiling, into the floor above was a circular section, in the center of the room, cut out, with crisscross bars laid in place.  A pair of eyes watched the party enter the spire through these bars, though if the spire was ever under seige, and the attacker made it through the front entrance, one could easily fire upon them, this way, from a safe position above.  The watchful eyes disappeared from few, and the halfling appeared at the top of the steps, that wrapped around the wall, with a heavy trap door at the top, leading to the floor from which he was descending.

From a non-combative point of view, the room was otherwise decorated as a dining area or lounge of sort. There was a fire place with a unusually tall easy chair.  And immediately next to it was an almost exact replica, though a fraction of the size; the difference between the two, matching the difference between the knight and the halfling. There was a large round wooden table in the center of the room with six plain looking, though well constructed chairs pushed in around it.  The only ornate thing or really decor of any kind were multiple swords hanging from the walls, at even intervals, going all the way around the room, each one nearly identical to that currently being dragged by the Arbitrator.

The boy rushed down the stairs, almost tripping as he waddled, to help D'Armes into the large easy chair. Once content, he shooed the boy away, who went back up the stairs and out of sight. "Have a seat." The knight shifted in the chair, again each movement seemingly one of pain and great effort, his right hand even giving out under his weight, practically causing him to double over the armrest for just a moment. Though once situated, his next action, was that he removed his helm.  For the first time since any of the party had met the man, had any actually seen his face.  The bright red, scalely, dragon-like face looked to the party, and then to Ura. "So please enlighten me as to what YOU believe may be at work here."

"Wow... this place is a cutpurse's nightmare," Ura mumbles to herself as she continues to trail after D'Armes.  She pokes Anaeris in the elbow as she watches the man in front of her trailing blood across the floor.  "Is he... bleeding to death again?  You think we should ask Uthal to do something about that?"

As the feeling of eyes make Ura's neck itch, she twitches and resists the urge to dive for cover and hide.  Even with the cozy lounge facade, all Ura could see with her streetwise eyes was a big fat death trap.  "Ugh... hate this place," she mutters under her breath, hunching her shoulders forward a little and trying to look unobtrusive.  At D'Armes command, Ura pulls out one of the chairs and sits down reluctantly.

"Thanks," she replied, still extremely uncomfortable.  She takes a moment to stare a little at the dragonborn -- there weren't many of those back in Spandelyion, and they were generally met with even more hostility than elves -- before clearing her throat and opening her mouth to reply.  She takes a quick glance around the table before starting to speak, knowing just how much the others love it when she's the mouthpiece for the group.  Still, she makes an honest try to convey some information to the obviously waiting D'Armes.

"So... we're kind of here at the behest of Archmeister Solomon Fortunus Sinclair.  You may have heard that there was a little dust-up in Cathaan a while back... turns out some of the royals were neck-deep in some nasty-ass rituals involving the creation of undead from unwilling victims they killed.  Kind of like the zombies we met on the street today, except... with less armor?  And more freshly undead?  Well... maybe fresh isn't the right way to describe how they smelled," she adds as an afterthought.

"Anyway... the Berossus family siblings were implicated, and the 'Lord' and 'Lady'" - Ura makes airquotes with her fingers as she says this - "fled the city.  To over here, apparently.  And then, all of a sudden, this city is being affected by magic black fog and a zombie plague.  Coincidence?  I think not."

Ura takes a deep breath, trying to use her somewhat above-average intelligence (despite all seeming evidence to the contrary), to cobble together a theory.  "It's more than just them, though.  You spoke of a beast that returned, right?  We kind of inadvertently helped the Archmeister uncover all of this corruption when the Berossus kids tried to make a few of us into their next zombie pets and managed to get away.  There were some papers we brought back with us that mentioned a 'Black Beast' of Aaargh - is that the one you're talking about?"

She continues on after a moment, whether D'Armes confirms or ignores her question.  "Anyway, when I said not alone -- it looks like one of the Churches is involved in this undead revival plot as well -- co-conspiring with the royals in some kind of political power play.  Although I don't know much about that, either.  I'm just an innocent victim who managed to get out of the cages here.  The others know more about the details with the royals and the temples and even these prophecies than I do.  You should ask Anaeris, Ander, and Uthal about it," she adds, nodding at each of them -- mostly for Kel's benefit, as she's seen him looking briefly puzzled at the others before.

Uthal looks around at Ura. "I don't know much more than what you just said. I was sent to help the church with an issue of corruption in its leadership and was ambushed by a member who was working with the royals." 

‘’What my companion said is true. The Berossus have been using powers many would consider unnatural to prolong their lifespan. Master Solomon’s apprentice, Lady Zelda, tried to have me join them.’’ Anearis says this last part with a tone of disgust. ‘’I refused. They had a shrine under the manor that allowed them to wield dark powers. She told me there were many more of these shrines scattered around Theviranne. We believe they’ve gone over there.’’

Kel smiled on the inside. The Arbitrator was a title known to even those in the Territory. Of course Kel had no idea who that individual was at a glance, but now here he was not only stepping inside the Spire but finding out that the individual was a descended from dragons. Outwardly he took in the Spire, the defensive structures, the semi-spartan furnishings and even the small manling without a word. Inwardly he was laughing at all the time he spent on 'useless' studies during his free years after the Forging. He hoped he'd get a chance to practice at least.

Kel opted not to sit, instead placing his gear gently down beside the fireplace and doffing the chainmail coif. His shoulders were thankful for the reprieve given and he rolled them with an audible crack. He stood, leaning against the fireplace for a few moments, hand making small gestures out of reflex. He wasn't paying attention to the pointless gestures he was making, but rather wrapped himself in the story being told by the elf named Ura. They had traveled all this way to hunt down a royal family that looked to be guilty of some rather foul necromancy tied to a religious order. He shook his head. All of them here because the fires they had tended were now joined in a blaze. Hardships and zombies were a strange way to make bedfellows but, he supposed, conflict had a way of shortening the time one took to be trusting. Common enemies had the ill luxury of creating roving bands of revenge. The entirety of it was leagues beyond what the tiefling had been dealing with. To compare would be like taking a dive in a tavern glass of water rather than swimming in the lake. He sharpened his gaze as names were named, at the very least he could address the others now.

At a pause, Kel spoke.

"I am Kel Iscariuss, Hellheart of the Order of the Wall." His brow furrowed a bit at a line said by one of the city watch to the group outside the Spire. "To you..." He said towards the others in the group. "...that would be, a paladin." He paused for a moment, then certain with the words continued. "A paladin that protects the Temple of the First Fire in the Territory." He directed his conversation at the Arbitrator. "I stepped outside to aid these few when the undead threatened the streets of the city. No more. No less. Before this evening I was hunting monsters for the small villages beyond the walls. This very day I slew a bat similar to the winged creature that descended upon us outside." He shrugged, armored rings clinking. "I highly doubt it was the same creature, lest they can reattach their heads." He sighed. "I know nothing of their vendetta or quest. I was drawn into this fire because it was the right thing to do. I am soon sworn to an Oath and the path I am on requires me to be better when others won't." He couldn't bring himself to say hero.

He turned his gaze back to the group. "If it is your intent to hunt this Black Beast, then I will join you. If it is your goal to seek out these royals that have done these foul things you proclaim then I will still offer my blade and service. Should then our path join a larger way, well...until then I cannot say." He rested his back against the fireplace and stilled himself.

"Well I appreciate the introductions.  I believe you to be the only one I had not formerly met." D'Armes nods at Kel. "Though I'm well familiar with the Temple of the First Fire, as I myself am a fireclaimed, as was my father before me, and his before him." He turned to address the rest of the party of likely questioning or confused looks. "Non-tiefling converts into the religion, for those of you unfamiliar with the South of Shinra." Addressing Kel once more, "It was from an agreement of forefathers long ago, that likely played a much larger part in my cause, then your own."

The halfling reemerged from above, bringing with him a tray with a ceramic set of small cups and a tea kettle.  Taking the steps one at a time, D'Armes simply watched, though showed no concern for it, more so perhaps that he was waiting for the servant to perform his actions, before continuing on with the conversation.  The halfling set the tray on the center table, but rather than immediately serving, he looked around at all the visitors, and then went to close and lock the spire entrance, both doors.  He then returned, and poured the tea, bringing a cup to each of the party guests, before carrying the last to his master, along with the kettle, which he then held, as if taking his position, for the discussion to continue.

D'armes then told the party a tale of a great beast who spread famine and disease throughout the continent. The origin on the beast was unknown, some say a twisted magical remnant of the dark arts of the ancient inhabitants, but it nearly wiped out the entire population of the continent. It's reach was marked by a thick black fog that spread out from its hole, beneath an ancient stronghold, and it possessed minions of undead and beast alike, to spread both its message and its devastation.  A clan of dragon born, the last of its kind, on the continent, came up from the scorched south of the continent, to combat the beast. "It is not a beast that can be destroyed, so it was contained. And my clan remained here, to ensure it was never again released. That is actually why we've always filled the role of Arbitrator. We were here before the war between Shinra and Cathaan, and so we brokered the peace. Their little squabble was nothing compared to what was truly at stake. So here we've stayed," gazing around the spire, as he said the last bit. He then looked down at his cup, staring into the liquid. "But now, I am the last." 

He sipped from his cup and spoke to Ura, "If the Berossus' are responsible for what happened this evening, we may be lucky. There's a chance the beast has not returned, and it's simply mortal fools messing with things they can't comprehend. However, we should make haste either way to uncover what's truly going on." As D'armes held out the cup with his right hand for the halfling, to fill it, the hand convulsed, and dropped the cup. However, as the halfling bent down to retrieve it, D'armes grabbed the halfling by the throat, squeezing as he lifted the little man off his feet.  A look of both horror and surprise was on the Arbitrator's face as while he sat slumped in the chair recovering from the night's earlier events, his gauntlet-ed hand seemed to have another motivation.

Uthal jumps forward to pry the halfling from the dragonborn's grasp. 

Strength: 6

„Well (a vulgar elven word for poop),“ Ura says, before looking directly at Ander.  „Muscleman!  Grapple him down, I‘ll help!“

Then she kicks away from the table and dives under it.  Definitely a strange way to „hide“ (for fun stealth: 11), but it‘s not so much about being successful as it is about being distracting, and more importantly, not being stopped.  She goes for D‘Armes legs, looking specifically for the side he was limping on, and smashes his kneecap with the hilt of her dagger to keep him from properly finding his feet against what she hopes will be the knight‘s non-lethal takedown of the semi-possessed Arbitrator.

Uthal's advantage roll with Ura's 'help': 18

D'armes: 14

Uthal succesfully separated the Arbitrator's grip from around the halfling's throat. Though no sooner had his grasp of one throat been released, that his hand lunged for D'armes own throat, gripping around the scaling flesh, exposed from having removed his helm.

Ura keeps helping from under the table by whacking at the other knee, still hoping someone will grapple and then restrain the dragonborn before his arm does any more damage to anybody.

Anearis will jump in and try to pull D’armes’s arm back from his own throat. 

Strength check: 6

Uthal tries to use the momentum from Anearis' pull to grapple and restrain the knight. "Get the gauntlet off. See if that helps."

Strength: 12