Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius observed the situation, keeping his face impassive-- trying especially to hide his amusement. He was curious as to what his friend and loyal ally, Zenon Skyreaper, was planning.

The Librarian with a regulation haircut loomed over Occam, more than a head taller than the Stormbrand. Zenon's polished, professional, and spiky armor made the Cleric in his ragged faded-black overcoat look like a vagrant in comparison.

The Centurion's eyes glowed whitish-blue as the two wicked, serrated blades attached to his armored forearms sparked with lightning magic.

Tycon mused internally that if Zenon had chosen to wear his helmet, the intimidation factor would have been even greater. However, the Librarian went without it. Similar to Athena and Tanamar, wearing helmets slightly inhibited their skill activations and aim.

Zenon Skyreaper had improved greatly since the last time he dealt with Guild Stormbrand, both in confidence and in power. If the gentleman decided to teach them... a lesson, Tycon would not stop him.

Zenon's mouth curled up into a sneer, "How about you stay the f*ck away from me, unless you want to crash against the Flamescarred rocks?"

​ Occam's face fell into disgust, "Why you..."

Reaver Tancred, the circus clown, placed a hand on the raven-haired Cleric's shoulder. He silently shook his head.

⟬ Tancred Mors, Iron-Rank Human Reaver. Guild Stormbrand. ⟭

Occam growled, appearing ready to continue his hostility... until he glanced at the other members of Guild Letalis... at the large human, Heavy Gunner Lawrence, inspecting his scattergun... and the sleek-armored Korr who was having a private conversation with her two-handed blackblade.

"Whatever..." Occam groaned, dusted off his coat, and adjusted his direction to walk around Zenon instead of past him. The other Stormbrands followed in a disorganized gaggle, shooting various levels of angry and anxious glares at the Centurion.

"Thanasius," Tancred motioned for his twin brother to speak with him.

Tanamar, real name Athanasius Mors, approached without a hint of caution, "Yeah?"

The Reaver raised an eyebrow, flicking a finger to test the hardness of his brother's black armor... "Looks good."

"...Thanks."

Tycon thought the two looked nothing alike, Tancred larger and wider, Tanamar a few ilms taller and with a lithe, more athletic build. If it weren't for their matching hair color and passably similar facial features, Tycon would have never guessed their blood relation.

"You guys should head back," Tancred warned... "--maybe loot the buildings near the bridge."

"What's it matter to you, where we go?" Tanamar shot back with an unnecessarily high level of hostility.

The Reaver narrowed his eyes, grimacing... "You know... you've never been able to beat me in single combat."

Tanamar twisted his lips... but offered nothing in return.

--like the fact that he won the Martial Tournament in Caeruleum while Tancred lost miserably. Or the fact that Tanamar was infinitely more useful to the Brazen Guard collective than the entire Stormbrand guild. Or that, as a part of Guild Letalis, Tanamar was armed and armored equal or better than the rainbow of enchanted miscellany that Tancred shamelessly wore.

...Or that he was far closer to winning Athena's heart than Tancred ever could be.

Tycon sighed internally. Such things were not his problem.

"You should go back, Thanasius," Tancred warned once more. He turned, walking to follow Occam and the rest of his group...

"Consider it," The Reaver waved his hand in departure, his back turned.

Tycon approached the silver-haired footman's side... watching the greataxe on Tancred's back as he disappeared down the dark hallway.

Tanamar had a strange expression on his face-- one that Tycon dared to say was doubt. Tycon could surmise that, for the young man, emotions were at play over logic.

"Raphael," Tycon gestured to the Bravo with a hand signal.

The gentleman approached with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming red with mana... ready to fight. He spoke fluently in the Old Tongue of the Kingdom, "(I hear and obey, Lord Baron.)"

Tycon pursed his lips... "(Are you confident in following them and remaining unseen?)"

"(If only that, I am 100% certain,)" Brave Raphael scoffed as if such a task was beneath him.

Tycon flicked his wrist, summoning an elongated potion bottle containing the ⌈Pass Without Trace⌋ spell and offering it to the Brave. It was expensive... but with the Letalis members he chose to bring, not a single casualty was permissible if there was no great benefit.

"There are enough for two uses in that, lasting one bell each. (Go. Report back if you observe anything suspicious.)"

Narrowing his eyes, Tycon stressed one last command, "(Do *not* engage.)"

"I hear you," The gentleman saluted with a closed fist to his chest. He took the potion and placed it in a belt pouch, "(Death to the enemies of Invictus.)"

"Indeed," Tycon nodded... "Also, I want that bottle back."

Clear glass bottles were expensive.

...

Tycon advised Photios to seek out Duelist Ptolema.

The sanctified spellcasters in her Snowy Village Guild had suffered substantial casualties in the Icingdeath Dungeon. Silver Pyromancer Photios would be more useful attached to them. Also, Legionnaire Karodin of the Brazen Guard was with them, making it one of the safer groups to travel with.

...Tycon was insistent upon making the decision... and Athena accepted it without complaint.

It was a bit unfair to the young lady, as she was theoretically the leader of Guild Letalis. Thus, he tasked her with leading the group to their next destination.

There were dozens of pathways and doors to be explored in the once-Dwarven settlement... As the Halls of the Dead Snake was classified as a Dungeon with a Core, there would be loot and enemies, wherever they would go. The only reliable sensibility was that the deeper they delved, the stronger the opposition would be...

Admittedly, that wasn't a certainty, either... especially if the Dungeon had other inhabitants other than the creatures nurtured by the Dungeon Core.

Athena was excited to lead, though the weight of responsibility marked her commands with a bit of uncertainty. Still, everyone was supportive of her.

Even if one or two of Sergeant Salt's Gunners were not keen on her leadership, none of them would dare to question an Iron-Rank Frostblade. Athena could thoroughly trounce any of them, their Gunner lead included... and likely all at once, if she needed to.

And so Athena chose the pathway. Then, she chose a door.

Then Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark, and Sol Invictus' Master Ranger kicked open the door with his mimic-smashing hammer in hand.