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Merrick closed his eyes, sliding off the other sandal off his foot, leaving him barefoot as his fingers twitched, the sandals shooting into his hand before he gritted his teeth, feeling a sensation of pressure pulsing deep in his abdomen, unaware that pulsing between his shoulders, a warm golden-amber color, was an infamous birthmark known among the magical community as being related to one of the strongest demons... who had turned his back on his own kind and had fought to protect humanity. "Wh-what is happening to me? It feels like... pressure within me... held... back," he managed to say, the pressure itself felt warm, but whatever was holding it back was sending the strong sensation of a fire so cold it burned along his nerves.

Merrick grimaced, though he felt an itching where the birthmark was. "W-who would do that? And how? It feels... painful, like something's trying to slip out... but it can't," he managed through gritted teeth. His eyes were flickering between their natural dark emerald-black, pale blue partial to the Sparda bloodline, and an odd, almost golden orange color. Almost the same moment, a broad shouldered anthromorphic weasel staggered past, almost colliding with them whilst holding something white in his hands. Blood ran down the weasel's face.

Merrick closed his eyes before a low, soft growl escaped from him. "I don't have any parents," he muttered; he'd been told he had been left by a woman who hadn't identified herself as a toddler. He barely remembered anything of his 'mother' who had basically abandoned him. He blinked as the weasel stumbled on, muttering under his breath. "What does 'Mad-Eyes' have to do with the ocean? It's obvious that.... he... was most likely struck in the head," he said quietly; he could see what the weasel was wearing, which looked vaguely like a pirate's outfit.

Merrick exhaled as he shifted uncertainly before he started loping with a fluid, almost lupine grace that seemed almost animalistic. He didn't even seem to realize how graceful it was and how, when he was older, it would draw the eye of the opposite sex like a magnet. "I doubt that, and... it hasn't helped with those other talents I have," he muttered as he focused, a faint, soft blue radiance flickering around his body as he darted up the side of one tree, running up the trunk as if it was solid ground without missing a beat. He dropped back down several seconds later. "There's an odd red abbey... looks newer than where we just were, and if the weasel continues, and we follow him, we'll almost go straight for it," he said quietly.

Merrick smirked slightly as he shifted his weight, landing in a crouch as he dropped from the tree, not seeming to realize he'd dropped close to thirty five feet without stopping at all and not showing any discomfort at all before he started jogging slowly, letting Cassandra catch up without tiring her too much. He didn't notice that his bare feet were leaving rather... troubling crimson footprints behind. "Hopefully... there's something," he muttered as a rumbling growl sounded from his abdomen.

Merrick had no idea that the soles of his feet had been cut several times by the rougher bark of the trees or that he was leaving bloody footprints as he walked. His eyes flicked to the side as they spotted a large ditch ahead before his gaze flicked to the other side, spotting the easily six story tall abbey, though the walls were roughly two thirds as tall as the abbey itself. It was also a dull red that was obviously weathered. "Holy s**t," he said with mild shock; it was easily a third larger than the abbey he'd grown up in. He glanced at the staggering weasel, who had collapsed near the wall not far from the large, fifteen foot tall gate. He cocked his head, not recognizing the darkened shade of the wood, though he could tell that the wood had never had any sort of protective coating on it. "I did notice, probably three minutes after we 'got here' that there was the scent of rotting vegetation, like a swamp was nearby," he said softly, unaware that said swamp was several hours away, although they had, in fact, covered the same distance in no more than an hour and a half. He looked up at the wall, a bit overwhelmed at the size, but liking the color of it.

Merrick blinked at Cassie's words, a bit confused before he glanced behind him, noticing the footprints behind him. "When did? Uh... okay," he started before cutting himself off, noticing several stumps nearby before he sat on one, wincing as pain shot up his legs from his feet as he noticed the injured weasel mumbling under his breath, staring at the wall as if trying to will it to open. He was a bit startled when the large gate began to open.

Merrick cocked his eyes to the opening gate as half a dozen anthromorphic mice and squirrels, most of the older ones dressed in what he recognized immediately as abbey robes. His eyes widened slightly as a large badger, easily half again the size of the others, strolled through the gate before spotting them. His hand dipped into his pocket, coming up with a gold-bronze edge, ivory coin with an odd design on its face. He stood swiftly, shifting his weight so Cassie was behind him, unaware that the unusual looking, to him, Abbeybeasts wouldn't have harmed them at all.