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Fantasy Eaethix - Wraevadar Exploration RP (open)

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Thalia_Neko

Ten Thousand Club
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Running through forest, brown leather boots pelted the uneven ground with trained expertise. Then with a strong press off of it, the girl leapt through the air. Height shown more than any regular human could achieve, almost like a bird taking off. She caught a branch, swinging with her momentum, to catch another, and firmly plant herself up in the treetops. Bending low, letting the dark sienna and burnt orange leaves of the Autumn season fall about her to conceal her better. Her outfit was holding together well, made for harsh outdoor excursions and forest fancies just like this. Well, not exactly like this.

Marring Faiglyn's sandy skin were countless little scratches from rushing through branches and bush. A few strands of bright red trickled from where she ran through the angry Violethorns. A beautiful and lush flowering plant that grew with wild, reckless abandon, covered in vexing, tough vines with countless irate thorns. The flora was a well known plant to the Qho Forest. It grew aggressively here, and surrounded much of Qhoun Village, acting as a natural barrier of sorts. Though, for Faiglyn, she had ran the best possible path through them, having learned how to get through the hedge of thorns in the best possible manner long ago. Even her skin had toughened up to their angry scratches and bites.

The elf girl tried to settle down, placing her hand on her chest. Calm her breathing. Steady her heart. The sounds of heavy footfalls were like an earthquake in the forest. What she had just done... Was no less than seen as the gravest of sins. An affront to the entirety of The Church. Even her own mother had disowned her! She watched as a legion of Crusaders in their heavy silver-and-red steel marched through the forest. Crushing all of its wonder underfoot like meaningless trash. Any thorned plants, or other hazards were trampled as if they were totally unregistered as threats. Nothing. Flora, fauna, and the magical, all of which Faiglyn had spent the better part of her life learning to fight, circumvent, and hide from. Nothing to these invaders. A legion of Zealots were with them. In their own white, red, and golden robes, wielding maces, hammers, axes, and cat o' nine tails of "righteous retribution". A phrase uttered so often there wasn't a soul in Eaduxath who hadn't heard it. It was a huge joke. To think anything about these people were "righteous". Though their connection to the gods was hard to argue...

What with Airros enacting retribution immediately against her village. She put her head in her hands. "Oh brother, father... What have I done?" Faiglyn mourned.

"There!!" Came a voice.

She perked up immediately, and glanced towards the sound. A man clad in religious armor was pointing right up at her. "I've got you now, heretic!" He hefted up his crossbow, pointed right at her and pressed the trigger instantly.

For Faiglyn, the momentary shock of being spotted left her, and she sprung away in time to dodge the shot. But the chase was on once again!

She landed on the forest floor, and took off in the direction that there weren't many Zealots and Crusaders. While the group was still adjusting to where "There" was meant to mean, Faiglyn whipped her bow across a Zealot's face who turned her way. The hard wood of her bow made the man spin and collapse, a nasty red mark across his face. He was knocked clean out.

Faiglyn's foot fell right beside the fallen man's head as she bolted without giving him a second look. By now everyone had honed right back in on her, and were in hot pursuit. They were closer this time. So bolts began firing at her.

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

The constant thudding of bolts sinking into trees echoed around her, mixed with the whizzing of arrows flying through the air, added to the thunder of footfalls. "Men! Pray to the gods! Ready magicks! Loose!"

Now the hum, hissing, and whishing of spells were added to the symphony.

"Aiehh!" Faiglyn couldn't help but shriek as a bolt of electricity blasted a tree right beside her, blowing splinters off of it right into her face. The heat from it was so intense she could feel it! A fireball subsequently struck a branch right above her. "Ahh!" She shouted again, hands going up to fan the flaming debris that fell on top of her, hitting the ground behind her and catching alight on the dried leaves.

They were serious! They wanted to kill her so bad!

A vine -no- a root ripped out the ground right in front of her, causing her to run right into it. Her chest hit it hard, releasing a grunt of pain. It immediately began to wrap around her. If she allowed it to grab her she'd be done for.

"NO!" She called, slapping her hands against it, and pushing against it. A burst of wind came out of her motion, thrusting her straight up. The surprise of it caused her to flail in the air. But luckily her dexterous, nimble feet caught the top of the root, pushing off of it and landing with much more grace. She took off immediately. Only to glance back at it, with a confused look on her face. Wind magic. She had used Airros' gift. Despite having renounced her priestesshood and caused all this mess.

She was unable to dwell on it long, as a blast of chilled air hit her square in the back. "Unh!" She lurched forward, but kept her pace. Though that little surprised jerk was enough to slow her down for someone to take aim at her. "AIEEYA! Chen'ik!" Faiglyn cursed in Hyu Elf tongue, when a tri-spike of rock sunk into her back calf, right through her leather boots. That was enough to cause her to stumble, falling to one knee.

No. She had to continue! Even with this wound.

She reached back, grabbing the chunk of rock. And after bracing, yanked it out. Biting back another scream. Feeling the wetness of blood flood her boot, she got back up and began running. With a noticeable limping-run from her right foot. But she kept going.

It seemed like she was slowing down though. The Zealots and Crusaders were drawing closer. Their chatter was loud enough to fill her ears now. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help it. She had to fight back.

Running forward, she gripped her bow hard, as if she were squeezing the life out of it. Her eyes would've been on it, if they weren't necessary for avoiding the treacherous woods ahead. She swallowed, reached to the quiver on her back, and pulled out an arrow. She turned back, while still running. Her eyes were needed for something else now. She nocked her arrow, and loosed.

Her shot was as good as ever. The pain in her leg wasn't hampering her aim at all. The arrow sunk right into the opening of the closest Crusader's helmet. Right between his eyes. Blood squished out and around the opening, and the Crusader collapsed. Well, add murder of a Church Crusader to her list of crimes. Needless to say, that was one of the worst you could do, too.

"HEY! SHE KILLED HIM!" Someone shouted.

"THE BITCH!"

"THE WRETCH!"

"GET HER! GET THE HERETIC!"

"Wikx!" She cursed again. That only made it worse. She knocked another arrow and fired, killing another. No backing down now. -Not that she ever intended to.

She fired a third arrow. This one didn't land in that special unarmored place for the eyes. It struck a shoulder. Luckily it was between the pieces of armor, and the woman grunted out in pain, grabbing her arm. But it wasn't her pain that Faiglyn was focused on. It was the sudden darkness that flashed at the corners of her vision.

Tch. She clicked her teeth. Airros' Curse...

She lowered her bow. She knew shooting back was a bad idea. But her few shots she had done, had served her well. Those were the closest Zealots to her, so now she had a good-ish lead. She picked the pace back up, and continued running, this time facing forward.

All this time, arrows and spells had never ceased. So, without focusing on her own targets, they seemed much more prevalent and threatening now. With splinters of bark flying off. Bursts and blasts of spells crashing all around her. Just barely missing. Lethal strikes, pretty much every one. Now that she wasn't focused on her targets, she was focused on them. Their attacks were putting the fear of death into her. It made her heart race, yet fall with despair.

Suddenly, she could see light. Glows, fuzzy glows, cut through branches, and tree trunks ahead of her. Bewildered, Faiglyn wondered what that light was.

She didn't wonder for long. Her feet carried her right out of the forest, hitting hard, dried earth. The moment she stepped out, the dried orange-brown ground cracked. Faiglyn stared down at it, then swiveled her gaze around. She was out of the forest! All behind her, trees so close you could barely see in them. All in front of her, orange-brown ground split into weird plates that were at a slope before her. The weird dusty plates became more jagged and haggard, until jagged rocks were all that laid ahead. And beyond that was spires of rocks nearing the bottom of the ravine. Then the slope inclined up, with the same jagged stone spires. Leading all the way up to a earthy mountainous formation before her. And there...

And there it was. The Dreadbreak.

A giant barrier that sealed off Wraevadar. A cursed, corroded, corrupted expanse. The Jailed Realm. A land of horrors and death. A place no one was ever meant to go.

Faiglyn gulped. Fear gripping her even thinking about the place. Fear that replaced the previous one she was feeling in an instant.

The Dreadbreak itself was scary enough. The name alone brought fear. It was both barrier and locked door. Technically... enterable.

Though no one would ever in their right mind do so.

Still, Faiglyn could hardly believe what she was seeing. The Dreadbreak. Wraevadar. It wasn't close. She had run this far? How long had they been in pursuit? Would they ever give up? She already knew the answer. The Church was not known for being merciful. Maybe in the past, but.. no, not the modern Church. The modern Church had become more and more spartan, more and more radical.

Speaking of. It was the loud, boisterous voices of Crusaders and Zealots that snapped her out of her stupor about what she had just stumbled upon. The elf glanced back behind her. She was seeing movement in the treeline. Behind her, Zealots of The Church. In front, Wraevadar.

What? What could she do?! She didn't have long to decide! Faiglyn glanced up and down the path before her. It was a desolate cracked and spiked land for all the eye could see. And her eyesight was better than humans'. Usually, anyway.

Voices.

"There! The heretic!"
"Get her!"

No choice.

She clenched her teeth and glanced back. She let out a yelp of surprise, tossing her body back to avoid a spell that crashed at her feet.

She had stalled too long, trying to decide what to do. Now more and more Zealots were piling out of the forest. They did not seem perplexed by where they were. All focused only on one thing. The heretic. Her, of course.

They lifted up their crossbows and held up their staffs, scepters, and mediums. Bolts and spells rained down at her.

Faiglyn had no chance to think about defending herself. She just had to. She reacted fast, lifting up her bow. Knocking and loosing arrows in quick succession, she fired them at the bolts. Faiglyn's aim was so good, her arrows clashed against bolts flying her way, knocked clean off course.

This allowed her the time to descend the ravine, towards the spikes of rock. She began bouncing between them, using them as cover for spells flung at her. Rocks blew apart behind her, raining gravel all over her. But she persisted, simply ignoring that. Finally she made it to the bottom. Now it was the trek back up the other side towards... Towards the Dreadbreak.

She grabbed her first earth spike and pulled herself up. The path was hard. And she was finding it was even harder to lift herself up than normal. Her leg was really aching by now. Agonizingly so.

Turns out, at this angle, the spikes of rock barely protected her anymore. She was forced to use her bow once more. However.. it was spells now that she had to defend against.

One that was sailing her way, she focused on. Lifting her bow, Faiglyn put all she had into the arrow. Suddenly winds swirled around it. She loosed. The arrow with wind struck the spell and dissipated it out of the air. Faiglyn was stunned.

But she couldn't remain stunned for long! Faiglyn aimed at the next spell. Did the same. Fired. And dissipated that spell, too. She aimed at the next spell. And the next. Dissipating those. And the next. And that one.

All the while, doing her best to ascend.

"Gah! This bitch!..." One of the Chief Zealots spat, with fury in him. He couldn't fathom what was going on. What she was doing! Arrows knocking bolts out of the air? Normally out of the question, but he had heard of the Dryar's marksmanship, and was taking it at face value here. But what was she doing to their spells?! That he couldn't grasp. It was well known that magics could cancel each other out. Normally they had to be of equal quality spells. But for this mere wretched heretic to be able to use her god's magic like that?! It was unthinkable! Unconscionable! Didn't he smite her village out of rage?! Why was his blessing still with her?!

This was enough! "Take her out!" He hissed. "Follow my lead!!" He lifted up his Great Staff. A grand thing made of silver with gold design and filigree. A sleek curved throne at it's crest, beset by a large amethyst-purple orb. He bent his head and began chanting. The other Zealots looked at him, then bent and followed his lead in the chant.

Faiglyn noticed the bombardment ceased. And the loud chorus of chant. She lowered her bow, looking over with more clear vision. The Zealots were all chanting now? Well, that couldn't be good. She didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth! She began ascended with speed once again. Grabbing rock after rock and pulling herself up. Until she was at the top. Standing right in front of a sizzling, sparking barrier of near-impossible to see swirling red, black, and purple. The Dreadbreak.

She leaned in, and it sparked. Magic zipping right at her. Sizzling her nose, causing her to wince and take a step back. Which put her precariously on the edge of a spike of rock. She halted herself, and took a breath.

"NOW! BEFORE THE HERETIC BREAKS THE BARRIER!" The Chief Zealot shouted. The last words of the chant were finalized and suddenly a heavy pulse of magic erupted. It blew against the trees, kicking them back as if a harsh gale of wind struck them. Loose rocks of the ravine also broke apart, flying away like razor knives in the wind. Faiglyn braced against this shockwave.

"The Lance of Emersity Theota!!" he intoned. The magick from all their spells combined into one. It spun, morphing into a bolt of white-yellow. Then the lance fired right at her.

Even from this distance, Faiglyn could feel the magical pressure of this attack. The heat from it. If it struck her -she'd be incinerated on the spot! She didn't know what she could do, but she lifted up her bow and focused.

This time, her focus was greater. Grander. Hotter. Her own arrow began glowing. Until it lit up like a single line of silver. All she could do was loose. So she did.

The line of silver fired right at the Lance of Emersity Theota. And erased it instantly. The silver line went straight through it, splitting it apart into many particles of light that all beautifully twinkled away. The silver line, though, carried on. It sailed forward.

-Clean over the heads of the Zealots. Clean over the treetops.

Faiglyn was in awe of what just happened. Of what she had just done! What had she just done?!.. She wasn't sure. She winced when the silver line continued, but completely missed any adversary. That was somehow the best and worst shot she had ever made. In fairness, she wasn't thinking about striking any Zealots down in the moment. She had only been thinking about stopping that spell.

Stopping that spell!

The spell! It was stopped!

Even the Zealots all were left stunned.

In the moment given to her by sheer serendipity, Faiglyn knocked her bow on her back, and turned back to the barrier. No more waiting. No more dawdling. By chance, Faiglyn knew the spell to 'unlock' this locked door. It was a secret passed down by priestesses. Or perhaps, just the elven people of Qhoun? Or the priestesses of Qhuon? She honestly wasn't sure. But that didn't matter now.

She was focused on the barrier. And began writing magical script of her native Hyu elf tongue, with a unique priestess-y flavor. Magic script was simply written language -usually some sort of ancient, or uniquely magical language that is flooded with mana, or magick. Runes, also, are just magic script. The script is a spell, so it makes magic. The script can lay dormant for years. Eras, even, depending on what the writer wants, and writes into the spell. In this case, her own spell was not meant to unlock the "door". No. It was meant to awaken the spell that was placed upon the barrier during its inception. The unlocking or opening or barrier-breaking -whatever you wanted to call it- spell that was placed into the barrier, just for the occasion -the crazy occasion- that someone wanted in. Almost like a failsafe. A stupid one no one would ever try.

"She's breaking the barrier!!" The Chief Zealot shouted. "STOP HER!!!"

It seemed they had gotten over their stupor. And began firing spells once more at her. However, that last spell had taken most of the mana within most of their bodies. So the spells were far less frequent, and far from a barrage of them like before. Many of the Zealots attempted to cast spells, and rightly passed out trying to do so. That could happen, if magic was attempted with empty mana pools. And depending on the intensity of the spell, worse could happen. Like self-injury, sickness, or even death.

The Chief Zealot growled in irritation at the poor display of his fellow Zealots. He had more mana. So he and the few who did, continued firing spells at her.

Unfortunately Faiglyn could not avoid them. Nor could she defend against them. Once her own spell to unlock the door had began, she couldn't stop it.

So, spells sunk into her. The ones that reached her, and didn't miss that is. Icy winds hit her. Rocks pelted her. Fire blasted her back. Faiglyn winced and cried for every one that struck. But she endured as she finished up the spell.

Which she did.

Faiglyn was shocked she had managed it! She bent back, observing her handiwork in awe. Something flashed across the entirety of the barrier. Which was like the entirety of the sky above all of them lit up. Then the barrier glowed reddish. And her magic script glowed. More magical letterings etched into the barrier, rising up into the sky. These letterings, which Faiglyn did not recognize, moved. Sparks and magical electricity fizzled across the barrier. The Zealots all gasped.

"NO!" The Chief Zealot called out, eyes wide.

Even Faiglyn wasn't sure what she had just done.

The magic script and new magic letterings all moved across the barrier, then formed what can only be described as a doorway. The doorway was before Faiglyn. The magic sizzled. Then the doorway -the barrier there- simply vanished. The door was open. Faiglyn was still basically pressed up against the barrier due to the magical barrage she had taken. So when it opened up, Faiglyn yipped, and the elf took a tumble right inside. Not even able to contemplate if she really wanted to enter after all.

But enter she did.

Entered Wraevadar.

"NO! The heretic!!-" The call of the Chief Zealot, or perhaps it was another, grew quieter in the distance.

As she tumbled down the grey-black dusty incline on the other side of the barrier. "Oofh! Oafh! Uff!" Faiglyn grunted as she rolled. Until she finally came to a halt at the bottom of the incline. Groaning, on her stomach, she pushed herself up with her hands to look around. First things first, she had to shake her head, and pat off the dust covering her. What she first noticed when she was able to open her eyes, was the way she had just come. Where she had just tumbled was a steep incline of grey-black substance that was like soot. Looking farther along, there were more rock-like formations similar to the other side of the barrier. Except these were black. Like an obsidian black. She had gotten lucky in where she entered, otherwise she could've skewered herself on those.

She glanced up. Even though the doorway had opened for her. The entirety of the barrier flashed. And... broke. Leaving nothing between Wraevadar and Eaduxath. That... that was bad. She stared in disbelief and horror.

On the other side of the barrier, the Zealots were, too, watching how the barrier flashed and disappeared. "No..." breathed the Chief Zealot. "W-well.. Well, f-f-follow her!" He shouted, waving his hand erratically. "After the heretic!"

"But sir!" Someone cut in. "Wraevadar..?"

"Wraevadar, what?!" He spat back. "After her! Get the heretic! That's what our orders are!!"

"R~right! Yessir, of course!" The Crusader weakly replied, with a deep tone of fear for being reprimanded. He simultaneously saluted the Chief Zealot. He and the group began moving down the earthy incline. Only to look back up. As the barrier sparked back into being.

However, it was noticeably "fizzier". And noticeably visible. The barrier was there. Not gone for good, like they had all thought just a moment ago in stunned silence. The Dreadbreak was there. Unbroken. But it was weaker.

The Head Zealot narrowed his eyes. It had sealed back up behind their charge. Unfortunately he didn't know the strange spell she had used to open it. He hadn't expected to even chase her this far. Let alone see the stupid elf enter Wraevadar of all places! And that magic she had shown.. That had cut through the Lance of Emersity Theota. Their patron deity. The Monarch Deity. The Divine One. The Preeminence. Sacrilege. Even wondering "how" was tantamount to sacrilege, so he didn't voice his questions aloud. His fellow Zealots weren't as thoughtful, blathering on with one another in confusion about the whole ordeal. He inwardly groaned. "Come! We make our way back to the Grand Cathedral. We must confer with the Prime Archbishop. On how to break the Dreadbreak."

"Sir?"

"We are still charged with getting the heretic, fool. We simply need the means to break the barrier as that perverse elf did. To think she knows the spell to break the barrier..." He mumbled at the end, glancing away. He was not thrilled considering what that meant.

It was clear the Crusader didn't much like the idea of entering Wraevadar, even going after a heretic such as she, but he didn't voice his concern. "Sir." He said dutifully, with a dip of his head. He turned and waved his hand. "Alright! Come! We're headed back!" He called to the others. Inwardly, he thought it was dumb to even try going after her. She would die in Wraevadar, after all. Everyone knew that. Mission accomplished, right?

Murmurs of relief, confusion, and such rippled across the group. Gathering up the unconscious, the Crusaders and Zealots began the disheartened march back.

"No! You six," the Chief Zealot called to a group known as The Holy Chosen. Decked out in, of course, opulent armors. Tacky. They were a group of powerful Crusaders with connections to gods that gave them special magic. He waved at the barrier. "You six see if there's any lingering effects of her spell. If there is, enter behind her. Go after her on your own, if you can."

The six were not like the Crusader talking to him. They all saluted, fist across their chest. Together they called dutifully. "Sir!"
"Yessir!"

Immediately the Holy Chosen began making their way down, then up the rocky incline towards the barrier. No second questioning. Just following orders.

Back on the other side of the barrier, Faiglyn sighed in relief as she saw the Dreadbreak blink back into existence. She hadn't destroyed the barrier between Wraevadar and Eaduxath after all... Good! Wait, was it good? It meant... Well it meant she wasn't going to be followed. But...

It also meant she was here. Locked in Wraevadar.

Her eyes swept across her surroundings. She immediately winced. Bringing up her arm to cover her nose. The air! The air! It was hard to breathe! Wait, the air -was it caustic? She wrapped her arm with her cloak and placed it over her nose. That wasn't good. Caustic air... Was she poisoned? Would she die soon? She had no idea. All she had was rumors about this place. This place immediately before her.

The Strip of Despair.

That's what it was called. She wasn't sure how there was rumors of it, but.. The word was the Strip of Despair was the immediate area beyond the barrier. A desolate, bleak strip of land with literally nothing. It was said this strip of land killed all who entered the barrier. None made it passed it. Hence the name. The "Despair" it gave. Sure enough, before her was a sprawling land of gray-black. Nothing as far as the eye could see. Barring spikes of obsidian black here and there. Her heart began beating quicker. Were the rumors true? Would she die here? How could they be? Someone had to live to start them, right?

Suddenly something caught her attention. Faiglyn glanced back and up behind her. At the Dreadbreak. Sparks were hissing. There, messing with the barrier. Were six figures.

Faiglyn's eyes widened. The Holy Chosen! No way! They were seriously coming after her?! Into Wraevadar?! Were they crazy?! Apparently so. She had gotten it wrong. She had incorrectly assumed she would be "safe" in here; that no one would come after her. She was wrong. It seemed The Church felt so slighted, that they were willing to even chase her into Wraevadar of all places. That was not good. Not good at all.

Faiglyn didn't think one more minute about it. She turned and began running. At first her feet flopped about. Like she was in quicksand. Or like she had two left feet. It was this strange dust. And her injuries were afflicting her body so. But she quickly regained her footing and balance and carried on. She had no clue if the Holy Chosen could enter like she had. But she wasn't stupid enough to stick around and find out.

Or at least she hoped she was being smart... This was Wraevadar after all. What lie ahead? What was in store for her? She knew something had to be, and she wasn't eager to find out. First she had to survive the Strip of Despair.
 
The hands of Nalia bled as they climbed the jagged obsidian. Their breathing was labored, and all they could think of was getting away from the several undead grabbing at their ankles. Normally a few zombie-looking beasts could be easily dispatched by Nightmare. But after several days of running and fighting? They simply didn't have the strength or magic to combat something as simple as a skeleton.

After getting high enough, Nightmare sat back and rested as best as they could while kicking at the climbing undead, sending them back down to the earth and forcing them to climb back up all over again. This was a terrible position they were in, and after looking around at the empty land they knew the odds of getting away in one piece were zero. Maybe a hand? Or an arm? Nightmare looked down at the bloodied and cut-up hands of their vessel. "Shit... I can't just lose a good body like this."

Nightmare looked down at the face of a zombie as it reached its hand up at them. They snarled in anger, "useless pieces of meat!" They stomped onto the zombie's face several times, sending it into the others. Nightmare inhaled deeply, preparing to shout with all the might they had left. It was the only thing they could do to hopefully preserve their host body. They screamed into the emptiness of the land:

"HEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLP!!!"
 
Izak awoke amidst piles and piles of bones. Man, demihuman and even demon bones could be found around him. Despite the pain wracking his entire body. Izak knew that he had to think fast. Whatever predator had left these bones here could find him at any time. Forcing himself onto his feet. He tripped and toppled with an avalanche of bones following him. Breaking free and taking in his surroundings. Izak was at least sure this wasn't anywhere in the Netherworld. Shambling away from his place of awakening. Izak heard a cry for help in the distance. While he wanted to ignore it and move on. He also couldn't help but wonder if there would be food. Taking a deep breath and hobbling toward the voice.

The demon was confronted with a pack of undead. Zombies were one of the lowest forms of unlife. Their sluggish movements made them predictable opponents and their rotting flesh made them terrible meals. However Izak needed to eat and he needed to eat now. Focusing his breathing patterns to better circulate oxygen to his body. Izak was able to force an adrenaline rush. This numbed his pain enough for his body to move okay enough to fight. Stepping out where the creatures could see him. Izak tore the head off of a zombie and bit right through its skull. A foul taste spread through his mouth as he wanted to gag. Forcing himself through the experience. He devoured the entire head. Slowly his wounds began to seal up. Ripping the arm off of another zombie and tearing at its flesh like a drumstick. Izak's pain also started to subside.

Stifling the urge to throw up. Izak threw a zombie to the ground and started clawing it open for anything solid enough to put in his gut. Blood and viscera splattered across his face. The stench of death hung on his clothes and breath. Finally he was bitten on the shoulder by a zombie who had snuck up on him. Tearing its jaw off and eating the contents of his throat. Izak felt ill from the rotten meat he had eaten yet had healed his injuries from his fight with the demon king. Staring at the remaining zombies with his stomach grumbling in protest. Izak wiped his bloody mouth...

Tetro Tetro
 
The day was as foul as his mood. An absent sun that hide behind a melancholy grey blanket of clouds, as Ser Quinn's footsteps practically echoed in the empty wasteland of his native home. How long has it been since he had left Uronne? Unable to sleep, unable to dream nor never needing to rest, the days had all become one giant blur, and the only thing he could concentrate on was his quest, and even then he was having trouble doing. Regrettably there had been one aspect of living in Uronne that Quinn had enjoyed, and that was the constant Soul Tithes that allowed him to remain bound to his armor. And now having been separated from a constant stream of souls being funneled into him has taken its toll. While he could not feel it, his body moved and felt sluggish. Nothing too detrimental, but every day he could see his thoughts and his body no longer move at the same pace. A sign that his soul had begun to unbind from his armor. How long does he have until he is then consumed by the Drink of Souls?

It matters not. Either he finishes the quest a champion, or become another pile of rusted scrap on the wasteland. He had already resolved himself as such and simply walks the realm, looking for a solution that may not exist.
 


Faiglyn stumbled away from where she had just been. Fleeing The Church at the Dreadbreak.

Haggard breaths left her as she staggered on her legs, wobbling weakly. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes. Then realized there was a heavy blurry effect to her vision. Along with a heavy ache in her eyes. She grimaced, squinching them shut, pinching them with her fingers, and rubbing them. She had used her bow too much. Already. And she was in Wraevadar. Yep, that Wraevadar. Home to untold and unimaginable perils. How much would her bow be required now?

She really didn't want to think about it. Blinking open her eyes she attempted to focus her vision once more. Luckily, it seemed to work, though the dull ache was still there. She sighed. Wraevadar. This was a mistake. She glanced back the way she had just come. She hadn't even really been thinking. Only "escape" was on her mind. But with The Church now in the dust, she wondered if this was anywhere near the correct decision.

Should she return back to the Dreadbreak? Had the Holy Chosen made it through? She didn't know, but the smart choice was to simply believe they did. That meant she really couldn't go back that way. Footprints would lead them right to her... And footprints were easy to leave in this strange black dust. Which really meant she had to keep going, right? But.. it was Wraevadar... She hesitated.

Could she even get back through the Dreadbreak? Her spell worked before, but would it work a second time? From this side? Would it completely break the Dreadbreak once and for all? She couldn't really live with herself making such a tragic mistake like that. Dooming the rest of the world like she had her village. Could she really make two similar mistakes back to back? Except one was way worse?

Faiglyn's stomach growled. She realized how incredibly weary she was. First things first. Food and drink. Tending to her wounds.

She glanced around. Did Wraevadar even have water? Did it have food?

She spotted a strange obsidian formation nearby. It was one of the few on the horizon, and the closest. The elf made quick over to it.

She hunched down between the blackened rock formations. Then began disrobing. -Gingerly, wincing as a blood-soaked shirt or piece of garb was picked off her body. Faiglyn then perused her pack. She hadn't had time to really pack before fleeing, but she had been able to throw a few things in. Some rations, some water in a pouch, and some first aid supplies. Thank Airros. Wait. No, should she even be thanking him anymore?

She shook her head. That was a question for another day.

She looked towards the Dryad's Gift she had received. No, she didn't think she needed those waters just yet. Her wounds were bad, but not like, mortally severe. It would be a waste of water to use it to wash away the blood, so she would use some fabric instead. First, she plucked stones or icicles out of her skin. Each one caused her pain. And it was painstaking work. Then Faiglyn took a fabric out of her bag, ripped it, and began wiping down her wounds. The one on the back of her leg, too. Still, each time she touched one pain sparked through her body. Finally, she took the top of a box of balm, and scooped some out, then began rubbing around on her back, hissing at the overwhelming pain. That just meant the medicine was working. Then she took what fabric she thought she could waste and wrapped it around the more egregious wounds, and tied it off. Now sporting a piece of fabric around her midsection, chest, and calf, she relaxed.

Faiglyn unscrewed the cap off of her water pouch and took a swig. She couldn't waste it. Who knew if she would even be able to find anymore water here in Wraevadar. This had to last. So she spat some back in, and only took a small sip. She looked at her food in her pack. Not much. Only about a week's rations. -If she decided to really ration. Giving in to hunger, she unwrapped a small piece of food. It was a typical Hyu Elf snack. Something similar to a dumpling, only made with bread, and filled with veggies. She took a bite. Mm. It was good. And it was the first thing that she had had since fleeing that made her feel relatively normal and okay.

She ate the entire Uchipo- that's what it was called. Then put everything away, and sealed up her pack, pushing it around on her hip, attached to her belt. She was lucky. With all the spells that had hit her back, her bow had survived. It was made with enchanted wood, so that was probably a strong reason for its survival.

Now what? Faiglyn glanced around. Nothing as far as the eye could see. Sighing once more, she flopped back against the least-rough rock. Breathing came hard. She wrapped her cloak around her mouth to make a makeshift mask. This would have to do.

~~

Faiglyn hunched down to the first thing she had discovered that wasn't gray-black dust, obsidian rocks, and skeletal remains. She hadn't even seen the supposed "horrors" yet. It was a small puddle of jet-black liquid. She frowned, staring at it. Nearing it only made her realize it positively stank, and her cute button nose wrinkled in distaste. Was this... This water?

Well, obviously this wasn't water. But was it the equivalent of Wraevadar's water? It certainly looked... corrupted. Could she drink it? She supposed she shouldn't. Just be its smell and looking at it, all of her instincts told her it was dangerous. But... She was running low on water and rations. She shook her pouch. Real low. It was days later. Or perhaps longer than that. In Wraevadar, it was hard to really discern the passage of time. Sometimes the sun wasn't visible at all in the grey sky. Other times it was, but its light was obscured. It was hard to tell just how long she had been wandering the Strip of Despair.

Maybe! Maybe she could purify it!

Reaching into her pack, she pulled out a small vial of "Purification Water". It wasn't for drinking. It had special properties to do just what it said -purify. There were perks to being a "priestess". "I guess I'm still considered one... Uhhh, maybe not." She mumbled to herself, uncorking the vial. She leaned down and let a few droplets splash into the weird black tar-like substance.

A moment later it rippled and then "purification" spread through it. Sure enough, this strange black sludge turned straight into crystal clear water. "Oh my, Airros!" Faiglyn gasped, not even realizing she once more praised the god. She immediately began scooping the purified water into her pouch. Then she took a big swig and gasped in delight, head reared back, long golden tresses whipping. Gasping for air, she screwed the lid back on her pouch. All the purified water was now hers. And the small puddle of black tar was no more. She wiggled her purifying vial and smiled, putting it back in her pack and patting it.

That was about when her sharp pointed ears heard a scream.

Help?!

Help!

Help???

Here?

It sounded like a little girl. She was wary about such things, as you could never know out here in Wraevadar, but... Decided to check just in case. She tried to follow where she thought the voice came from, then gradually heard more sounds. It sounded like... Well it sounded like weird growls and groans.

Hurrying, Faiglyn finally spotted what it was. There amongst some obsidian formation was what looked like a battle!?

No. A massacre! Someone -or something- was in the process of mashing up whatever beings those were. From here.. They looked... Like undead?

Wait. Another savior had heard the scream? What were the odds?

Maybe they were what was attacking whoever made that scream. Sure enough, she spotted a girl. Then her savior. And the mashed bodies of undead.

Even still, Faiglyn was wary. She cautiously approached, remaining silent... for now.
 
Nightmare watched the man tear apart the zombies that were bugging them. It was quite the sight to behold. A being that could eat its enemies and regenerate? Nightmare studied the man while he tore and ate, noting how unfond the man was of eating the rotting flesh of his opponents. It didn't surprise them, and zombies didn't look all that appetizing. What interested them more was the state of their savior. The man was in much better shape than Nightmare's vessel, but Nightmare was optimistic they could possess them if they abandoned this body. But to take such a risk in a land like this? Nalia was already strong, even for a human, and look at the situation they were in now. To hop from one body to another would be a bad idea in the long run.

Nightmare caught sight of another person a little ways away. It seemed their best bet would be to remain in this vessel and use it to their advantage.

Nalia peaked over the edge of their little crevice, "a-are they dead?" Her voice was tired and weak, with a slight rasp to it from dehydration. "Is it safe to come out...?" She was unsure of whether or not the man who had saved her would eat her just like he did the zombies from the looks of things. Nalia looked like she hadn't slept for days. Nalia's robes were torn and tattered, revealing much of her legs, arms, and midsection and all the wounds and bruises on them. Her hands looked about useless with how mangled they had gotten just from climbing up the obsidian.

Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko
 
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Izak rubbed the back of his neck as he finished off the last of the zombies. The putrid smell lingered on his clothes, which bothered him with how bad it was. None of these corpses had been enough to even satisfy him. Yet it had been enough to regenerate his wounds. Noticing that the girl that had been targeted by the undead had popped out to check. He glanced at her with a once over that let him know that she was no threat currently. Another female, some kind of elf also approached them. Seeing how wary she was reminded him of beasts back in the Netherworld. Like she was a snake awaiting her chance to strike if provoked. Wanting no part of whatever they were going to speak of. Izak dug a deep hole in the ground and curled up for a nap. This would relieve his built up fatigue. This was a habit he had developed during his child in the Netherworld. If there was nowhere comfortable to sleep. Izak would simply dig himself a hole to rest in. Simple, easily made and functional. Such a thing came in handy when he fought until his body gave out. Closing his eyes and beginning his heavy duty powernap. Izak slipped into unconsciousness...

Tetro Tetro Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko
 
It was on the horizon that Quinn had seen what seemed to be movement, and not simply the stirrings of trees or debris flying in the wind. It was active, intelligent movement. A battle? A battle! Somoene was fighting some sort of humanoid enemy, and they were outnumbered, but their enemy seemed to be unmatched. Seeing this battle rage, Quinn could not simply allow a fight to continue while he stands on the sidelines. Over two centuries of near inactivity, and the need to use his skills as a Knight of House Port was never ending. He draws his sword and forms a ball of spectral fire in his other hand and quickly ran towards the fight, but by the time he arrived, the fight had been over...and what a strange sight the aftermath was. Undead, their flesh mauled and eaten. An elf, who was watching form the sidelines and a strange man digging a...hole?

Unlike the elf, Quinn was unable to approach silently, and he knew it rather well, so he sheathed his sword, but kept his hand on the sword's handle just in case. His other had the fireball, still alight in case these strangers decided to attack or were overall hostile...though he had his suspicions they were not. He saw another, a woman, hiding in a crevice as he came closer, and once he was in talking range, Quinn came to a stop. "I suppose you are rather new here? We usually don't see people with clothes that fine out here, on the edge of Wraevandar....I mean you no harm, unless you offer to me in turn, in case you were wondering. I am Ser Quinn Port, Questing Knight and....I guess a bit of a wanderer now I suppose. And what say you all? Who are you, and what purpose have you here in Wraevandar?" His voice boomed and echoed as if he spoke from inside his suit.

Tetro Tetro Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia
 
Gion

A skeleton was laying in the middle of the wasteland, doing nothing. Yes, it's normal for Gion to spend his entire day playing dead. Less chance to bump into some dreaded monsters who likes to chew bones. However, something in the distance caught his attention. The barrier flickered off just for a few seconds, but that was enough to be called a phenomenon. It was the very thing that prevented him to explore the bountiful land beyond. His empty eyes were staring at disbelief wondering as to what was happening. He decided to investigate.

His skeletal frame was cracking when he stood up and black dirts fell off from his unusually fancy but worn out jacket as he ran towards the direction of the dreadbreak. Merry but messy noises could be heard from his guitar when he decided to flare things up by playing some music on the way. Zombies glanced at his direction when he passed by but otherwise didn't bother to chase a skeleton. Ah, yes. Zombies. Somehow there's a sudden rise on their number in the last few weeks. The beasts usually clear them pretty quick but these mindless corpses just keep coming from the north.

After some time walking Gion found the trail of someone running away from the barrier. Footsteps stamped onto the black ground, evenly paced, with footwear, and some drips of blood here and there. Yup, definitely a person. There's not much things here who wears shoes and the zombies had erratic footsteps. Gion continued following the footsteps while playing his guitar.
 
Looking around, they realized now just how GREAT of an idea it was that they didn't up and attack the flesh-eating demon man.

Nalia was a little more calm, now that others had arrived. Maybe things were looking up? "I wouldn't say new; I've been in Wraevadar for some time. But those zombies chased me here, so I'm new to this area." She stood up, revealing herself entirely. Nalia looked down at her torn-up robes, then back at Quinn, "fine?" The shreds left holding her robes together barely concealed her. If things were that bad in Wraevadar, then getting out was priority number one, forget gathering power.

Nalia didn't respond to his question about who she was but answered the second half while trying to find a way down that wouldn't end up making her lose her ability to walk. "My group and I were ambushed. After being brought to Wraevadar, I managed to escape. I'm the only one left... Can someone help me down?" She looked between the armored man and elf woman.

DapperKnight DapperKnight Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko
 
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Faiglyn heard the weak-willed voice of the female. Then she observed her strange savior begin to dig some hole and drop himself into it. Which was... bizarre. Suddenly someone else ran up to them, putting the elf on an even more heightened note. Lowering herself, and raising up a defensive posture. This big man made her the most wary of them all. But her sharp eyes told her his movements were slow, and stiff. Likely he would not be able to catch up to the nimble, quick elf should she flee. Why were so many people showing up suddenly? She hadn't seen a soul since she came to Wraevadar. Not even enemies. Though, maybe screaming for help was what brought them all over.

'New here?' Suddenly the armored man began speaking. This man was from Wraevadar?! But she had been told Wraevadar was a hellscape where only death remained. People lived here? If so... then could he be of use to her? If he lived here, that surely meant he knew how to survive here in Wraevadar, yes? He introduced himself as Ser Quinn Port. Certainly more noble and proper and polite than she was expecting of someone from freaking Wraevadar of all places. He reminded her of knights from the Human cities.

He further inquired about who they were, and their purpose. Faiglyn narrowed her eyes a bit. Even if she were to ask for help, she didn't feel a need to explain everything about her to some total stranger. The other girl spoke up first, clearly more trusting. More naive, is what Faiglyn thought. Wait, she wasn't new to Wraevadar? She didn't like slip in when the barrier broke a bit ago due to Faiglyn? Yet, she wasn't familiar with the Strip of Despair? So she came from even farther in? So people DID live here! That was... good news. It made it a better option to not head back to the barrier and try to leave right away.

Wait? Brought? "Brought to Wraevadar?... What do you mean?" They all seemed to speak what was colloquially known as the "Common Tongue". Which was really just co-opted Human speak that had morphed into a common tongue through the generations. Maybe through ages, to be honest. Faiglyn couldn't help but hiss out her question, too curious to bite her tongue. She grimaced at her own stupidity. Speaking up to these strangers was dumb, but that ship had sailed now.

Her cocoa eyes flicked between the girl and the armored man. Then she reached in her pack, and tossed over to him an arrow with a shortish rope attached. He was closer to the girl -and taller. That could help her down.

If Faiglyn was going to ask for help, she supposed it was only proper to reveal a bit about her. "I... I have been chased by some.. Uh devious pursuers who wish me harm. I ended up falling into Wraevadar by accident. I am only here to escape them. This is why I am so wary of strangers. And I have heard terrible things about Wraevadar, so you must understand my actions."
 
Quinn looked down at the arrow and rope the elf girl tossed at him and after a moment's consideration of whether or not to actually help, he threw the arrow up towards the girl, having the arrow jam it's tip in the crevice and giving the girl above a way to get down as he listened to the elf girl tell him her story. Once the arrow rope was set he gave it a tug to see if it was secure and nodded once he had made sure rope wouldn't simply slip.

"Devious pursuers? Well I imagine those are some of the worst type of pursuers. You are right to be wary, as I can assure you that at least half of all the terrible things you have heard are likely true. There are many things here that are worst then a living suit of armor that feasts on the souls of the living. You're lucky that it was me who had found you first, and only me. You might have been less lucky should you have met any of my other kinsmen." He tells the elf and looks up at the other girl hiding in the crevice. "It's safe to clime down now! Everything undead is dead, and I promise I don't bite!...not that I can at the very least." He shouts and looks back at the elf. "Now your name if you may? I gave you mine, so it's only fair you give me yours as well." Quinn argued.

Tetro Tetro Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko
 

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↽LOCATION⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽MUSIC TO SET THE MOOD⇁
The Strip of Despair ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎Same Vibes



↽INTERACTIONS⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽OOC⇁
Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Sorry this is a bit of a read

Tetro Tetro Spoiled Bread Spoiled Bread
DapperKnight DapperKnight Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia



RAMONA JULIANE


A dry caustic heat licked and coiled around her limbs like a great hot-blooded serpent. Despite the overcast, the cracked blackened ground beneath smoldered and sent up a disorientating haze. Golden irises tracked briefly across the jagged outcrop of obsidian rocks and bones. Ramona didn't know how long she'd been walking aimlessly, but something told her she'd seen that rock formation before. In an effort to keep herself from cooking her own insides, she divested herself of the bulky furs layered over her armor. Shoving them violently into her pack, she trudged through the wastes. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck and soaked into the collar of her tunic. Her armor clanked with each step and for the thousandth time she wished to remember which way she was meant to go.

Frustration furrowed the arch of her brow and with an exasperated note, she froze long enough to adjust the strap of the sword hilted to her hips. Perhaps it was merely her imagination, but for a moment she swore she saw movement. With a throat void of moisture she gathered enough air let release a raspy scream, "Ethan!"
The word echoed into nothingness and in the same moment the tiny thread of hope Ramona had clung to severed. It was a ridiculous and childish thing to call out to anything that moved, she knew that, but what else was she to do? Lay down and let death claim her? Give up?
Only a coward willingly took that as the first and only option.

Ramona pressed her lips into a firm line. Then, with a bit of mental goading, she forced herself into motion. But upon a few yards of travel, when the rocks no longer obscured her view, she was met with the sight of crumpled and mashed bodies haphazardly sprawled across the baked ground. And beyond them, a few figures mulled about--presumably the owners of the voices she'd heard. The brittle sound of bones crunching drew her gaze to the severed hand she'd carelessly trampled over and a wave of disgust colored her otherwise blank features. Of course there were undead here. Which meant there were other things, worse things, that roamed these lands. For a moment, the realization felt like it was something she had already known, but the feeling dissipated before she had the chance to dwell on it. Ramona rolled her shoulder, took a deep breath, and set a more determined pace. Her armor gave away her approach, but it wasn't like she was trying to hide. Though maybe she should.

Her left hand tightened on the hilt of her sword.
What manner of beasts were they? Could they be trusted?
She didn't have enough stamina left for another altercation, she was half a step from collapsing as it was, but they didn't need to know that. And if they meant her harm, she wouldn't be going down without a fight.

A guitar strummed in the distance, faint and whimsical, yet growing louder. It distracted her long enough for curiosity to ease some of the tension from her stance. But her eyes remained sharp and her hand did not stray from the weapon at her side. "You there!" She called out, pointing at the small group with her unoccupied gauntleted hand, "Where did you come from?"

 
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Valentine Smyth

Hidden in an obsidian outcrop, laid a seemingly human man wrapped up in a tattered cloth. It was his best attempt to camouflage himself from the horrors of the strip. For the past few days, Valentine has been wandering The Strip of Despair he had originally started at the Dreadbreak and planned on going in one direction until he found something. Unfortunately, the endless expanse of soot and obsidian began to blend together and in no time they all looked the same. In no time Valentine began to question if he was going in the same direction, sure he tried to use the sun to keep track but monster kept him from keeping his eyes in the sky all the time.

A piercing scream for help woke Valentine from his slumber, and quickly leaning up from his rocky bed Valentine's hand immediately to his belt, partially unsheathing a single edged shortsword. Valentine was more confident in his magic, but he had this just incase anything got too close. Anyways he quickly got up and poked his head out if his obsidian hiding spot, he didn't see anything but a commotion could be heard nearby. Deciding to check it out Valentine snuck his way in between the many obsidian clusters before he found the source of the commotion. Stood before him was a couple of figures, an elven looking woman, a man in a suit of armor, and another woman, which Valentine guessed was the owner of the cry for help earlier. Though before he could put too much thought into it another voice came out which startled him, causing him to loose his balance on the obsidian outcrop luckily he wasn't hurt but it did cause some noise

Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko Tetro Tetro Spoiled Bread Spoiled Bread DapperKnight DapperKnight Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater

 
Nightmare huffed internally.

These idiots. I can't use Nalia's hands, dammit! How do I get down without blowing my cover or breaking something?!

Nalia very awkwardly wrapped her wrists around the rope and tried to pull herself up to wrap her legs around it. After four tries, she finally got it and very slowly shimmied down the rope, getting to the ground after almost a full minute of awkward struggling. She kept her distance from the suit of armor but gave him a small gracious bow, "thank you for your assistance. I am Nalia." Nalia looked at the elven woman, "and thank you as well." She turned to look at the man in the hole.

Nightmare decided to thank the man later if they needed to get him to open up or something.

The call of a woman made Nalia turn her head suddenly and run to hide behind the armored man. Peaking out from behind him to see who it was that was shouting at them. Upon hearing a noise close by, they ducked back behind Quinn, taking cover as best they could.

Nightmare could feel there was damage to their body, but pain itself didn't bother them. They wanted to avoid using their hands or getting any more damaged than they already were. With all these new people, their odds of survival grew so long as they kept the trust of others. Doing so meant avoiding personal questions like the plague.

Thalia_Neko Thalia_Neko DapperKnight DapperKnight Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater MouseDuke MouseDuke
 
fayglyn-png.892501


The strange heavy-armored man began speaking up again. 'Living suit of armor that sucks souls'? Was that what he was? What he said next sounded distinctly like a threat, so she raised her defenses once more. Then he had the audacity to demand her name. Faiglyn considered it, as the other person began climbing down the rope she had nicely offered them. She supposed she probably should... for posterity's sake. Especially since she was about to ask for help, but...

Then someone else showed up, shouting at them. A armored woman. Faiglyn took a defensive stance again. "Reinforcements?! Your ally?! A trap after all?!" she hissed, eyes gleaming. "I knew trusting you lot was to be a mistake! I was going to ask how you survive in this land! I have been told Wraevadar, and the Strip of Despair is uninhabitable! So far I've only found puddles of black sludge! There are so many people here... You have to have food and water, yes? Where do you find them?!" Faiglyn's rations were low, so she was fairly desperate.

Suddenly her angered shouting was interrupted. Interrupted by a heavy shockwave that rumbled the area. Then another and another. It felt like an earthquake was generating. Even the land around them began to morph and crack and split apart.

"What?!? What's going on?!" Faiglyn asked out, taking a few steps back as the ground cracked under where she had just been standing.

KRBOOOM!!

"You! Are you lot doing this!?" Faiglyn accused.

But a moment later it was revealed how stupid that accusation was.

The ground exploded, bursting up, raining grey-black dust and pieces of rock everywhere, and down onto them. Forcing the elf to shield herself and cough.

Bursting out of the ground were strange black masses with a morphing body. There were at least 3 of the.. uh.. creatures. They looked like the weird black sludge she had found before. Only massive, and in the vague shape of some hulking beast that towered high above all of them. The blackness morphed and moved like tendrils and also like living viscuous liquid. Each hulking thing seemed to have a myriad of beady orange eyes that covered its entire torso and what could only be called its "head". But the eyes were not centralized to the head. No. One seemed to have red eyes. But that was neither here nor there.

The three hulking things of black focused down on the group, and the one with red eyes opened its maw and roared at them. Its maw was in the center of its massive chest, and had rows of vicious jagged white teeth.

Faiglyn couldn't help but scream. Then she glanced at the others. "What the hell are those things?!?!" She immediately whipped out her bow, but then realized how stupid that was, as no bow could obviously serve any purpose against such abominations!

Before anyone could even say anything more, they attacked. Tendrils of black and giant mitts of black crashed all around, sweeping at the people. Faiglyn dove out of the way as a tendril whipped right through where she had just been standing. She did a forward roll and slid back to her feet, facing the madness that had just erupted.
 
Gion

The skeleton's peaceful footprint tracking was interupted by a loud booming sound coming from where he was heading. The noise scared away most creatures and he could see various rat-sized insects scuttering away from the explosion. The zombies however, got attracted by the sound and started limping towards the source.

"Oh my," stopping his play, Gion doubled his pace and was soon arrived near the group who was now being attacked by the black liquid creatures. He personally call those things the sludge, but the exiles he met before called them slime.

"Hola, friends!" Gion waved at the group enthusiastly. "I see you are in a sticky situations. Got it? Sticky. Ehehehe."

"I suggest to run away from it as fast as possible. I will help to distract it."
 
As the elf began to make assumption over assumption at the arrival of the new woman, Quinn puts out his hand, trying to calm her down. "Stay calm, stay calm. I have no idea who that woman is, and I would gladly take you to the nearest source of fresh water, but first you need to-" Then there was rumbling that caught the knight's attention. He suddenly realized that something was about to pop out of the ground, but it was too late. He reached for his sheathed sword, but as a black tendril flew towards him, Quinn prepared to jump out of the way, but his body reacted a second too late, and the tendril smacked him across the torso, leaving a slight dent in his armor as he was flung across the ground. He managed to stop himself from flying too far, and picked himself off the ground almost immediately and drew his blade. "An ambush then? Today is quite an exciting one indeed." He grumbled and charged in, slashing at one of the black beasts to hopefully distract it at the very least, and perhaps damage or even kill it at the very best.
 
A pillar of crimson energy poured from the hole. Flying out from it was a humanoid form that rocketed toward the slime monster. When it attempted to spear the creature with a tendril, that same tendril was suddenly an oozing mass. Now standing before the group was the unmistakable visage of a demon. Its aura radiated hunger and malice. Opening its mouth and devouring the tendril. The demon caught two more of the tendrils and ate them as well. Coughing up a mixture of black ooze and blood. It leapt into the mouth of the red eyed slime. While inside the demon began to bite at the inside of its mouth. Even as it was speared by the razor sharp teeth of the creature. It continued to eat, regenerating its wounds. Slowly it became a battle of attrition. Could the slime monster eat the demon before the demon ate it? Dodging the tongue and knocking the odd tooth out. The demon punched upward through the flesh of its foe, tearing through an eye. Shoving the remnants of the eye into its own mouth. It finally punched its way out of the sludge beast. Emerging from the monster and clicking its neck. The demon reverted into the more familiar appearance of Izak...
 
Nightmare groaned very quietly as they listened to the manic elf woman. She was beyond irritating and way too paranoid for their liking. The other was just as bad in their eyes. Were all females like this? Was Nightmare making Nalia not act crazy enough? The sudden rumbling of the ground below interrupted their thoughts.

Nalia peaked out from behind Quinn, seeing three monsters burst from beneath where the elf was standing. Nalia took a step back, ready to run away, but it was too late. The tendril that sent Quinn back not very far sent Nalia flying. A sickening crack emanated from Nalia's body as the tendril connected with her left side.

F$#@!!! Nightmare screamed internally at failing to react fast enough. They couldn't move Nalia's arms, or legs, or fingers, or any part of her body. They couldn't feel anything at all. Was Nalia dead? Was Nalia supposed to be dead? Or dying? Nightmare didn't want to lose this vessel, not yet.

Useless piece of iron trash! Idiot! Why the hell didn't they protect Nalia!? I'll kill all of them! Bastard idiots!!

Nightmare watched through Nalia's eyes. Fortunately, her head was facing where everyone still was and saw the demon come out of his hole. Nightmare watched the fight between the two, and after seeing the demon come out the victor, glanced down to assess what they could. Half of Nalia's left shin bone was sticking out, her right leg was bent backward, and the lower half of her left arm was sticking out at an angle, while the upper half was embedded in her side. They couldn't imagine how bad it looked overall. Nalia took a raspy and pained breath. It was more of a quiet whine than a gasp. Either way, she was still able to breathe. Nightmare couldn't do anything now but wait and hope one of the people there would heal Nalia.

Alright, dying, I'll pretend like I'm dying then. I hope I don't look so bad it raises questions about how I'm still alive.
 
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Valentine Smyth

If the voice had nearly knocked Valentine off balance then the sudden rumbling from below had finally knocked him to the ground. Everything after that happened so fast he could barely keep up, three monsters had erupted from the ground and began attacking everyone. The elf woman was able to dodge, but it seems like the man in armor was hit, though it didn't seem like it did much to him. Though the other woman cowering behind him didn't fare as well, and Valentine began to worry as his body didn't show any signs of moving. A voice of caution called out telling all of them to run away which was a good idea, but when he looked for the source of said voice all he saw was a skeleton with a guitar. Though Valentine didn't get any time to think about the strangest thing he's seen yet a humanoid monster came out as well, it seemed hostile towards the slime monsters and not them which was good.

Finally getting up off of his feet Valentine studied the back of the monster, the same one the man of armor was attacking. He then looked over at the girl who had been struck, wishing he could do something for her but these monsters were a bigger threat. Valentine took a deep breath and as he exhaled his breath was noticeably visable as the air around him rapidly dropped in temperature. Without missing a beat he charged at the monster and plunged his hand into the slimy back of the monster, and it began to quickly pull Valentine in. Luckily as the liquid-like body of the monster began to freeze, it wasn't completely frozen yet given its large size but it was enough to slow it down.

"Attack now! It should be open!" He called out to the others, settling nearly shoulder-deep into the monster.

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Her pointy ears twitched, hearing the strange sounds of musical strings being plucked. What? What was that sound? An instrument? Someone was playing an instrument out here? At this time? She glanced back at the sound and spotted something she didn't think she'd ever see. A skeleton playing a guitar. Well, she was aware of undead, and walking skeletons by magic, but playing a guitar? That seemed crazy to her.

Then he spoke up and she just gawked. She didn't appreciate his joke, at all. Though he suggested running. Which is exactly what she was thinking. So somehow the skeleton was both dumb and had a good head on his shoulders. Even if that head was empty.

Some strange being flew out of the hole and began attacking one of the strange beasts. She thought that being was crazy, but then he managed to subdue it. Or defeat it. Or whatever. It was hard to call what he did "defeating" it. She just couldn't believe she watched someone eat those disgusting, vile masses of black. She wasn't exactly sure what she was looking at when she watched this being change into some other form.

While the remaining two abominations crashed about, sending their black tendrils of death at the smaller beings around them, something caught her eye. The shape of a smaller person being swatted away and collapsing nearby.

Faiglyn quickly rushed over, grasping for the pack at her side. She quickly threw open the flap as she skid and knelt beside her. It was the younger female. Her body was injured to all hell. She had broken bones that were sticking out in places and stabbed into others. Just observing her made the elf cringe, hovering over the poor girl. "Hang in there! I've got you!" She announced, reaching into her pack. It took her a moment of scrounging around before she plucked out this ornate pouch. It was made with some beautiful silk that gave the brown pouch an almost golden sheen. There was a pretty plant and water design on the front. "Gift from the Dryads," she explained to the girl.

She really couldn't ask for permission to heal the girl, but, like, who would say no, right? She popped off the crystal top that hung with a silver string. And quickly began spritzing some of the waters around on the girl's wounds. Even the less obvious ones like a bruise here or there would clear up. "These are extremely potent healing waters," she explained to the girl. "You'll be fine soon!" The waters from the Dryads held such powerful healing, that they could heal even the grievous of mortal wounds. Their regeneration factor was unparalleled.

That's when she heard the call nearby, glancing over. She quickly popped the crystal top back on, set the healing waters back in her pack and grabbed her bow. She could hear bones creaking as they mended beside her, while she pulled out something from her bag and wrapped it around the tip of her arrow. Before nocking it and firing it, shouting, "Back off! Back off!" The arrow hit the frozen monster, then half a second later, exploded. Blowing pieces of the beast everywhere.

She slid her bow around her midsection, sealed up her pack, then looked towards the girl. She was healed nicely. Great!

The ground began to rumble again. Then suddenly more cracks broke across the surface. And suddenly even more of the of the monsters burst out. All around them. In the area surrounding everyone. Two more. Three more. Five more. Ten more. She stopped counting. Faiglyn gawked for a mere moment. She grabbed the girl's hand. "C'mon! Run! Everyone, run away from those Abominations!!"

With that, not giving even another warning out, Faiglyn booked it, yanking the girl along. As all around her the Abominations swarmed.
 
Izak held out his hand as an amethyst glow came from the corpse of the slain slime monster. Soon the corpse faded into nothingness, replaced by an orb of light. This orb quickly soared into the outstretched palm of a intensely focused Izak. Soon it began to grow and morph in shape before finally settling into a new form. What Izak now held was a whip covered in sharp points. Smiling at the new weapon in his hand. The excited demon decided to take his lethal toy for a test drive. Bringing the length of toothed cord down on a slime with surprising speed. A massive diagonal cut tore through its body, destroying it. Deflecting each tentacle attack with a crack of his whip. Tearing a stalagmite from the ground and shattering it against a massive boulder. That same boulder shattered into an avalanche that blocked off the slimes currently chasing the loud yappy elf. He hoped this would appease her enough that she'd let him eat the creature she was currently carrying.

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Gion

"Oh, wow." Gion cackled in amusement as he watched the event unfolded further. The chaos ensued even further with the appearance of even more of those sludge. Fighting those things one by one would be tiring and would likely be fruitless so Gion just stay on the edge until he heard moanings coming closer behind him. His skull rotated 180 degree to confirm it.

"Hello brothers and sisters. Welcome." Gion spread his arms wide, the horde of zombies ignored him and limped past the skeleton, their stare seems to be fixated on the running elf and the girl she dragged.

"No, no, no. Not them. Bad meatbags!" Gion hit one of the zombie's head with his guitar. He then stretched his arm forward, a sickly green energy seemed to be seeping out of his bones.

"Claim undead." A spell to conquer mindless and masterless undead. His eye sockets was brimming with the same green energy as he casted the necromancy spell and immediately all of the zombies' attention was turned on him. They wait idly and stared at him. Their interest on Faiglyin had vanished, replaced with a strong obedience to his words. He didn't know who made these zombies, but he's now their master.

"All right corpses, listen to me. See those monsters with tentacles?" Gion pointed at the rampaging sludges in the distance. "Now go there and hit them! Don't attack any fleshlings!"

As if groaning in protest, the zombies started lumbering towards the monsters.

"Faster!"

The zombies started running unstably, a few of them stumbled over nothing and decided to just crawl with incredible speed towards their certain demise. Gion didn't expect them to defeat the monsters, or even deal any damage. He just wanted to give the people there some time. True to his prediction, the living corpses were easily torn by the sludges. However, they didn't stop. Legless zombies would crawl with their hands, armless zombies would lunge forward to bite them and jawless zombies would just... pounce at them. They wouldn't stop until their head was separated from their body and Gion was betting on the sludges lacking intelligence to actually figure this out. Making them wasting their attention on undying decoys. Meanwhile,

"Needs a hand, pal?" His mace in hands, Gion jumped to aid Valentine and smashed the core of the frozen sludge. It wailed loudly before it crumbled into icy dust. Gion looked at Valentine and gave him a bony thumb up.

"Get it? A hand? Hehe, because you plunge yours into the thing and need a... Ah, I should stop. Let's get out of here."

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↽LOCATION⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽MUSIC TO SET THE MOOD⇁
The Strip of Despair ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎Same Vibes



↽INTERACTIONS⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽OOC⇁
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RAMONA JULIANE


"Hm." A calculating gaze swept between the elf, human girl, and iron giant. Ramona's arm slowly dropped to her side and before the words could form, the ground began to quake. Staggering backward, the slayer watched with growing horror as an ink-like appendage emerged from the cracks. Without a second thought, she whipped her sword from its holster and brandished it toward the nearest tendril. A crimson aura floated into the corner of her vision and as she turned her head to look at it fully, a creature ominously stood in its center. It devoured one of the black appendages and as it did so, a kernel of apprehension twisted down her spine. She shuffled a step back. Ramona's attention swung back just in time to watch a tendril make contact with her midsection. A gust of wind blew past her lips as she too was whipped into a mound of jagged obsidian rocks. Copper flooded her mouth and pain speared through the tip of her tongue.

Grunting in annoyance, Ramona clenched her jaw as fury electrified the aurous hues of her irises. The Slayer pulled herself from the indent she'd made in the rubble and, with a scowl, spit a lob of russet stained saliva on the ground. "That all you got?" She sneered while lifting her sword in preparation to strike. "My grandmother hits harder than that you ugly, pathetic, worm!"
The tendril twisted, seeming to shift in her direction when just as suddenly it was rendered immobile. Partly frozen from the touch of a stranger she hadn't noticed nor seen before. While grateful for the assistance, the rage and adrenaline pumping through her veins demanded she act. Brutally; Swiftly; And without regard for her own safety.
But before she could do any of that, an arrow lodged itself in the monster's frozen body. Then, in the blink of an eye, it burst into a thousand pieces.

"Hm." The slayer narrowed her gaze at the carnage. Disappointment settled on the curve of her brow and with a huff she pulled her attention to the archer, "Good shot." She grumbled, barely getting the words out before the world began to shake. More of the appendages burst through the surface. One after another until there were more than Ramona cared to count, encircling them in some sort of living cage.
The elven archer called for a retreat.
A wave of controlled undead lunged at the sludge-like tentacles.
And like a toddler throwing a tantrum, Ramona refused to willingly back down from the fight.
One of the abominations launched toward the slayer, falling like a humongous swatter intent on flattening her until she was nothing but pink paste on the ground. A wicked curve twitched on the corner of her mouth and without missing a beat she rolled out of harms way. Bits of rock sprayed into the air and as it came crashing to the ground, some of the pieces harmlessly tinked off her armor. From the corner of her eye, another onyx tendril swung itself in her direction and with a careful pivot she narrowly avoided the impact.
"Revincio!" She screeched, swinging her sword at the same moment a shower of golden sparks collected into the apparition of a chain that wound itself around the abomination's body--and constricted. Her broadsword made contact with the beast and soon after the spell shattered as her blade carved it in two.

Breathing heavily, Ramona whirled on the next sludge-monster with animalistic delight. "Come at me cowards!" She antagonized, pounding a gauntleted fist to the chest piece of her armor. "I can keep this up all day!" The noise attracted the attention of a few more tendrils and, perhaps stupidly, she refused to realize how far out of her depth she actually was.
"Skeleton Man!"' Ramona barked, cleaving another tendril in two with more difficulty than the last, "If you and the Frost Wielder are to run then I suggest you make it fast!" She barely finished her sentence before yelling another word of binding, though this time the spell didn't hold long enough. The abomination dodged the swipe of her sword and before she could reset her stance, another tendril crashed into her.

Ramona felt all the air leave her lungs as her back hit the unforgiving ground. Wheezing, she found herself pinned under a cold slime that seeped through the gaps of her armor. Unable to lift her sword, let alone move, a frustrated hiss speared past her lips.
 

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