The world was a cold and cruel place. This he had learned as his first lesson in the marble and mahogany halls of his family's manor back when he was still a part of the Belerian house. It was unfair, it was ruthless. It cared not for the weak or the strong. There was no respite for the meek, no strength for those able. He had ventured here on a fool's dream, hoping to somehow make a difference. But soon he found himself ill-equipped and ill-prepared for the unforgiving landscape and the Vault's deathly chill. He was alone, lost, and scared. And above all else–freezing cold. He had thought it would've been warmer inside; that was a lie. He had thought there were only traps in the initial portion of the winding halls; that proved to be false. Having nearly escaped certain death at the hands of rapid-firing arrow mechanisms, he had keeled over into a ball sobbing his eyes out. In all of his brief, two-century-long life had he ever experienced a situation where everything truly was out to kill him and where he could die at any moment–alone where no one would be aware of his passing. The worst part was that he knew he would not be missed, and that thought made him cry harder.

He was lost, so utterly lost. He didn't expect this place to be a maze, and thought it would be a gauntlet of locked doors. Woefully chilled to the bone, he laid by the side of the pathway cold, tired, depressed, and covered in a thin layer of frost. He already looked pale naturally with his silver-white hair and pale complexion, the frost didn't add much to it. His hair had come out of its normally tidily tied ponytail, something that he could thank the arrows for. He was just happy that none of them ended up in him. The dismissive words of his father and elder brothers echoed in his head, forcing him to curl up tighter. He was shaking from more than the cold, feeling truly forsaken. He would die here, he thought to himself. Surely, he would become yet another of the lifeless inhabitants of this frozen tomb. Every now and then the place would shake with a mighty dragon's roar, and he wanted to hide away…to disappear. The entire journey had been futile, and all he wanted was to find his way out and go home.

There was a dramatic silence accompanied his silent whining, apart from the mighty dragon roar every few second. Suddenly though, the silence was broken by a loud screech made by another person deeper in the ruin.
"REEEEEEE!"

Suddenly, Vicyeth came into view, continuing her screech before tripping over Cymbel and smacking her face into the floor. After getting up she shook her head, revealing her quite literal fish eye position… She then got up again and looked at the sobbing bundle of cleric on the ground. She still had her fish tail laying on his abdomen and it stayed there until she turned around, overly cheerfull she said: "HIIIIIIIIIIII HOW ARE YOUUU?"

Following after the creature, came a wolf-woman, wearing nothing but a chest wrap to cover her modestly endowed chest, and a loincloth maintaining what little modesty she had, hung from a belt with a single pouch. She looked stressed out, and was clearly trying to follow the mermoron, staff in hand as she hurried. When she finally caught up, she groaned. "By the divine Forest, what have you done now?!" Kisses Wounds groaned, kneeling down and gripping the man by the collar, heaving him up onto his feet with a startling amount of ease. She then proceeded to brush him off and straighten out his clothes. "I am very sorry for what this idiotic creature whom I swear is only here to try my patience and test my resolve. Was I a being of weaker will, I would not be able to assure you of her survival through this location," She sighed, shaking her head.

She then turned to Vicyas. "Must I bind your ankles together so you are forced to shuffle?! Why are you even here? You have done nothing but cause problems for anyone who is in this place, nd you almost killed me and another man not hours ago!" She huffed as she turned back to the man who was likely still sobbing. "Again, I am sorry for her crass, careless nature. I am Kisses Wounds, a Druid Healer from the Corval Basin. I have come here to try and purify these lands and restore balance to the world. As you can probably tell, this creature has been doing nothing but getting in my way, and has been slowing my task down far more than I would have liked initially. I apologise for my own frustration." She finished, looking him over. "You are not hurt, are you?"

Cymbel had been too absorbed in his grief to have noticed someone step over him, as he wasn't injured. "Uuuuuh…w-what? Who are you? What am I doing here??" His face was still a mess, from crying so much. His brain still hadn't processed what just happened. Then he realized he was speaking with a wolf–a wolf who was speaking with him and walking on its hind legs. Immediately he started shivering again thinking he was at the end of his rope, thinking a lycanthorpe was making him its prey. He was paralyzed with fear, until the freeze of panic turned to a kick of adrenaline. "I-please don't hurt me, my life isn't worth taking! I'm sorry!!" Cymbel looked as if he was going to wilt. Tears still stained his face and it was now apparent that he wasn't talking about the girl who had tripped over him. He was very lucky that the tears didn't freeze over making his eyes stuck closed.

Making himself more presentable, he took a deep breath, trying to maintain what semblance of stability he had left. He was completely spent, to the point where his tear ducts had finally exhausted themselves. Normally he would be very particular about maintaining his image, but in his current state he couldn't even contain himself from emitting a low-pitched wail. Without a good pep talk or emotional intervention, he would probably find himself a hole and crawl into it, then curl up again. Clad in clothes better suited to withstand the desert winds or the high mountains, it was astounding how that simple cloak and robes had carried him through that glacial wasteland outside. Calming down a little, the sound of muffled sniffling was what he could muster. Had he continued down his road to panic any further, he would've started hiccuping. His sleeves were wet from the melted ice, and his tears. But mostly his tears.  

Vicyeth sat down next to the man and curled her tail in her lap. She then pulled out a small jar of slime ish looking substance out of one of the pouches on her armor. She put her whole hand into it and then put that same hand into her mouth. It did not seem edible at all but yet she still insisted to eat this mystery substance… Upon close examination it turned out to be glue. While glue wouldnt harm her, it was just something that added to her Interesting personality. It wasnt just regular glue on it's own either. It had chocolate sprinkles in it wich added to how disgusting it was. 

Kisses Wounds stood, watching the man sob and wail, slowly growing more and more confused as each moment passed. The man seemed to think she was here to kill him, or some other such horrific fate. The idea would be laughable, were it not for the fact she did, indeed, look like a wolf. Still, she knew talking to him when he was in this state would be absolutely worthless. So she waited… And waited… Until he had finally gotten out everything he could and was left standing there sniffling.

"I am not here to hurt you," The Druid said kindly, looking the man over. "I would sooner take my on life than bring upon you any suffering, I assure you of that," She added, smiling a little. "I am Kisses Wounds. I am a Druid of the Forest, and a healer to all who may need it. Thankfully, I found you not because you were hurt, but because this tiny little abomination tripped over you…" She mentioned, looking at the now glue eating creature. What was with the world sometimes? "Regardless… She was made the way she was for a reason, and while I may detest the proximity of her insanity to my task of purifying these lands, I will not question why she was created. Are you lost?" She asked.

Now a bit more coherent, he wiped his eyes again and replied to her question. "Yes…" The druid's words were calming, something he very much needed in this unforgiving place. He felt a little better, both inside and outside. Knowing that she wasn't here to hurt him, his voice croaked: "Oh thank the gods…I-I thought I was done for. I was sure I'd be trapped here, all by myself. …I didn't know there were so many traps when I came in, you know? Sure I expected to see them at the entrance, but not all the way in here." Pulling out his handkerchief he blew his nose into it, trying to not be rude as he did so. Exhaling, Cymbel could breathe again. His eyes still hurt from crying, but they were being numbed by the cold. With his fight or flight response over, he saw the other person the wolf woman had spoke of. She was some kind of…merfolk? Was it amphibious, or aquatic? She had fins, and a fish-like tail. 

He had no idea what she was eating, and likely couldn't tell as his nose was still congested from his emotional breakdown. It was some kind of viscous fluid. It was hard to think when his head felt cold. The loss of the energy he expended whilst crying caused him to wrap his arms around himself to pull his damp woolen cloak tighter, shivering. "I-I'm Cymbel. There's not much that I'm good at, but I'll try to help when I can." As he breathed, small puffs of mist formed in the air as his body began reacting to stress. Instead of warm breath being cooled suddenly, it was more like he was exhaling fog. For a man standing at six feet in height, his mannerisms didn't quite match with his appearance.  

Kisses Wounds tutted and sighed as the man spoke, trying to straighten him out. She pulled a nicely woven cloth from her pouch, yet obviously, hand made, and start to clean his face, actually licking the cloth when she was met with a particularly difficult stain. "You aren't good at anything? Well, I certainly doubt that concept. There is not a chance you are horrible at everything. Maybe you just haven't found what it is you are good at," Kisses explained, taking his jaw and turning his head with it to get a better look at him. "Or, you already know about it and lack the confidence to excel at it,' She added, giving the man a warm smile. 

"You, are so very handsome, you know this?" She asked, looking him over. "You just need to focus your efforts. Come, you are nearly frozen," She said, taking the man in her arm and pulling him close. Her fur was warm, and he could feel how she seemed to grow even warmer. She likely held the hold for a little longer than would be socially acceptable. Though, given he was so cold, she probably felt like a furnace in a comfortable den in the middle of winter. Warm and welcoming. 

In the distance some noise could be heard. Undead creatures most likely as these groans did not seem human in the slightest. Though it quickly went quiet when the groans were shortly merged with light feminine sounding grunts and the clicking of a blade based gadget weapon combined with the distinct slinging noise of a crossbow, but with it also emiting a loud crack it would seem that this particular crossbow has been heavily modified using an unknown array of spells. Soon a short woman came into view, she held a peculiar crossbow with blue shining strings and a metallic bolt sitting in the very back end. The crossbow did not only have two arms but four wich presumably was ment to add to it's range or power. She anxiously aimed around with the crossbow until she saw that she was no longer in hostile presence. She lowered her crossbow and swung it around to her back. She recognized Kisses from earlier but chose not to mention it for now… She looked to the ground to see someone with dashing looks sobbing like a child and the mermoron… If the stupidity of her former crew would be combined and concentrated into a single person, that person would still outshine Vicyeth in intelligence. "So then, miss healer… I see you have found yourself an invaluable companion…?"

As he was hugged, Cymbel stopped sniffling. He hadn't felt such warmth of kindness in a long, long time. He usually would've been shy and embarrassed at being held, but the wolf-woman in a way reminded him of his mother who had passed away when he was at a tender age. It was a loss that had never been filled, and that was where the end of his happy days of childhood ended. The wisps of fog ceased as he now had fully recovered. When he was let go, his mentality was much better. He was stable enough that he wouldn't suffer another breakdown or startle at the slightest noise. Being less cold did wonders for him like a panacea. "I'm alright now… Again, thank you so much." He was a bit worried when another woman approached them, his focus on the crossbow in particular. It looked quite deadly, and the thought of it made him visibly uncomfortable. The owner of it also was dressed like a brigand, which also added to his concerns. When she put her weapon away he felt less threatened.

So there were all sorts of people here. He was starting to doubt if he really should have made the trek into the Vault, as he felt out of place. It was likely his overall inexperience and nature, he supposed. This probably wasn't the place for the likes of him. Everyone else he had met were either favored by Lady Fortune, or were hardened explorers. Although he might overshadow most of them in chronological seniority, he was still green in many fields. He would have to learn to handle himself better. If he hadn't encountered the druid and met one of the other inhabitants instead, the situation could have turned out very badly. Eventually he would have to become independent enough so he wouldn't need to be so reliant on the goodwill of others all the time.