Feenai had been almost killed by Dybbuk twice but still felt sorry for the bodies on the crucifixes after hearing Shealtiel's words. Her arm dropped as Lev ran out from beneath it, and she made certain to not look in his direction, but of course was unable to block out his feelings entirely. It's probably a good thing I haven't had solid food recently. She followed Shealtiel cautiously, not really knowing what to expect.

After waiting for about a minute or two, in which time Michael went over 14 different situation in his head, he turned his head to look back. Shealtiel had gotten out of the APC and was approaching a robed man who carried a book. He looked almost like a necromancer, just like Altiel, but unlike him, the man approached Lev without fear, which instantly put up a red flag in his mind. Turning waist to turn he -*!*- braced himself mentally. The aura that the man gave off was nearly as bad as the Nephilim's.

Glancing over at Michael as the artificer drew near, Shealtiel studies him for a moment, wondering if he is all right after the sickness and injuries he's suffered recently.

Drawing up close to him, he says, "I do not trust this man. He is a theurge, that much is plain, but there is something in his eyes... and that book is hiding something, I'm sure of it." After a pause, he asks Michael, "can you sense anyone else around here? I'm sure the Dybbuk in their agony give off a psychic cacophony, but I find it hard to believe our freind Mithaias was able to subdue them all alone. Maybe it would be best if you scouted ahead while we occupy him, if you're up for it."

The Dybbuk were only bringing bad memories to Dante, no matter how much he tried to shrug them off as mere corpses that he would have to destroy again. It eased his mind slightly to know that he'd brought his silver wildcat cartridge, despite its properties maybe only being a myth.

The wavering auras were pathetic, so much that he wanted to march over and decapitate every single corpse, but the do so might anger the newcomer, who seemed strangely ominous.

"I FEED!"

Na'lsa ripped into one of the writhing corpses mouth first, tearing muscle and tissue from a leg. He paid no attention to the rest of the body trying to resist, only enough to devour it. It was sickening, sweet, astonishingly refreshing and disgustingly putrid all at the same time. Every bite and swallow was a joyous bliss of agony ebbing away in to nothingness. Every mouthful was his mind piecing itself back together. After a moment, he possessed enough of himself to truly be that - himself.

He took a moment to collect his wits, staring at the bodies writhing on crosses. Dybbuk. The undead. Fresh ones at that, but that wouldn't last very long. Souls tortured, none delivered to their true place. However...

With great force he ripped the other leg from his partially eaten meal. He took it with him, biting in to it as he made his way back towards the party and the mysterious man. He spoke in his oil and sandpaper voice, more calm and composed than he had been just a few minutes ago.

"So tell me tall one, of the corpses you keep...they are not merely snacks kept for company, are they? If so you are a gracious host indeed. But of course, in this day the gracious host is the one to be wary of. What is this place, if I may ask?"

Dara's eyes bugged out as she watched Lev tear into the corpse. The scores of people hanging on crosses were just as disturbing, and for a moment she just stood with her jaw open, hardly able to think about gathering herself much less do so.

The pop of a separated limb stirs her back into some form of reality, and Lev's sudden health and speech provide at least a minor diversion from the corpses and the leg still in his hands.

As Lev devoured the corpse Michael shivered. If the theurgic man was political enough, Altiel would be stuck to deal with Lev and the man in terms of firepower. Nonetheless he brought a good point. Were there any others nearby, they would have attacked, but what if they couldn't? What if they were the ones keeping the Dybuk on the crosses...or preparing them against the group. Either way, he originally planned to go down into the ruins.
"Don't die on me then," Michael said to Altiel as he concluded his thoughts. He turned back and walked back to the doorway, leaving Altiel to deal with the man.

As Michael makes his way further into the ruins of the village, he comes upon a renovated building, lain with fresh bricks and functioning windows. The door is heavy steel, but stands slightly ajar. No sound comes from within, nor can he sense anything psychically.

Catching back up with the others, Shealtiel comes upon the scene, hardly surprised. He has long since gotten used to Lev's actions. He does note, though that the unfortunate Dybbuk, if such a thing is possible, is not dead. If those things are capable of feeling pain, it must be in holy agony. For a moment, he almost sees an academic merit in what Mithaias is doing here...

But it remains, nonetheless, a horror. The man must be either mad or supremely confident in his own abilities to keep so many Dybbuk "alive" in his home. It is not inconceivable that they could wrench themselves free of the crosses, if a strong enough will compelled them to do so. Shealtiel's eyes drift once more to the tome the man carries, wondering not for the first time what secrets it contains.

Looking upon Lev's carnage, Mithaias seems unimpressed, an almost studious look to his eyes as he watches the man devour the dead the flesh. "Aren't you an interesting one?" he drawls when the soldier has finished his meal.

Na'lsa shrugs, giving the man an unamused look, as if he was of no real concern for him.

"I am the son of God. His lion. Charged with throwing open the gates of heaven so that we may all truly rejoice in the holy kingdom. I will consume whatever lays in my path to obtain the power that is needed for my reclamation."

He took another bite from his meat stick, having spoken as if he was discussing the day's weather. After swallowing more flesh, his eyes fell upon the book the man held. He nodded towards it, almost out of bored curiosity.

"What do you possess there?"

Half wishing he could close his "eyes" to aura, Dante turned away from Lev's gruesome feeding.

And..."key to the Kingdom"? He had no idea what the man, or creature, was carrying; everything about it seemed shimmery and wavering so that Dante couldn't even pinpoint its location. He growled in frustration and crept closer.

And as Michael reverted his senses from the door, he felt surprised. Once again, an unguarded door. Had someone come in before him. *whe~w* A shiver went down his spine as the wind blew against his back. Even with his lab coat and thermal gear, he couldn't help but feel cold.
He hurried inside desperately as his heart began to race more and the steps on the ground became louder and Louder and-*cre-BOOM*
The door closed loudly, and after a few seconds Michael composed himself. He hadn't felt this scared since the hoards in Corinth. Perhaps it was time to use a courage capsule. Without much thought, he popped one and entered into temporary mental agony.

"We are brought by something that you will not find here, if what you say is correct."

Tossing the leg to the ground, he cut the distance between he and the man. He walked around him, eyeing his figure. Something...put Na'lsa off about this man. The way he clutched the book, mayhaps. As if he was ready to spring it open, like it would unleash some force upon them. But he was not afraid. He was the lion of god.

"Open your book, Keeper. You mean to let it loose. If you and I speak of the same kingdom, then you will share its secrets. After all, it is my birthright to inherit it."

Whispers tormented the back of his head, but Michael ignored them. 8 pills he thought as he approached the angled doorway. It was cold, but no longer gave him goosebumps as he passed through. He could he the turning of gears as well, but the further he got in, the darker the place became. He tried to feel his way along the wall, but soon found that to be a mistake as he cut himself. Despite the pain, he remained silent, annoyed at the need for another first aid treatment when he returned to the group. Instead of trying a second time, he reached for the laser, letting it turn on and illuminate what he confirmed to be a hallway. The ceiling was low, but not so low that he needed to crouch; Lev was more likely to have trouble. On every door, there was a window in which he could peer into. There were about 5 or so. Some had boxes food, and others equipment, and in the farthest room, there was a man, silently working at a bench. There was no need to kill him, so he left him and entered the closest room from where he entered.
He looked around as-
*!*
The door slammed behind him and locked. Perhaps he should have killed the man, but looking out, the man was still there. Who did that?...