The odd group had traversed the dungeon, and their party consisted of the freakishly tall Cricket, whatever Teeth was, Ken and Logue. They were by no means a normal party, nor would they typically gather to adventure together.

Despite this, Cricket held the lead. He wasn't one to judge who his party consisted of, much unlike Logue, who had been keeping a healthy distance from him and Teeth. He figured the mercenary was.. afraid of them, of how they appeared different.

A scoff would leave the tall heraldic's body as he came upon a dead-end, gazing at the rest of the group behind him. "Full stop up here, we could turn back?" He'd mutter, as his bat clung to his neck. The little critter hadn't been sure of Teeth's existence either, much like Logue.

Teeth would tilt it's head, pulling it's lips back into something akin to a grin as the not-it's spoke amongst themselves. The not-it's were strange, especially the scared-y brindled one. Teeth wasn't particularly interested in this escapade, having only followed the not-it's promise of food. His own not-it's had been busy and he had wandered off, seeking out sustenance.

Logue felt shivers run down his spine when the 'courser' had grinned, moving away from the beast to join up closer to Cricket, despite his distaste for the large heraldic. He felt as if the heraldic could snap him in half, after all. "We should see if there's a way through.." He'd muster a few words.

Ken had listened to the group chatter amongst themselves, slipping away from the group. Walking across the tiled floor, something suddenly clicked below him. The loud noise of a machine awakening sounded over the sudden silence that had came from the click, Ken freezing for a moment as his wisp, Keys, fluttered around him in a frenzy. Clearly something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

The wall in front of them would creak open, a large, drooling beast fighting it's way past the slow 'door'. A snarl painted across it's twisted muzzle, the group stood face to face with what they could only assume to be some sort of overgrown mimic.

Teeth snarled back at it, ears pinning flat back as his hackles would raise. Much akin to a dog who was about to bite.

Cricket would muse at the situation, pulling his cleaver out of it's sheet.

"We fight."