FireMaiden
Grade A Bitch
FOR ASTORIA
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Fantasy For Astoria! - Main (CLOSED)
- Thread starter FireMaiden
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Chapter One: Halamead
FireMaiden
Grade A Bitch
Welcome to Halamead
Year: 1032
Date: 17th of Embla
A charming little town sitting at the base of the Osharian Mountain range, Halamead is full of vibrant life. Cool breezes dance through the streets, chasing the heels of children playing. They carry the scent of summer turning to autumn, the smell of fermenting fruits and growing malt that the citizens here would be all too used to. Those passing through, or those who have only been living there for a little while would maybe find the sour smells offensive, but that's not the reason you're here. Your reason for being in Halamead is yours and yours alone. Maybe you're traveling and just needed a place to rest. Perhaps you wanted to buy some of their final summer stock before they changed fruits. Or maybe, it's just a coincidence you're here, nothing special about it all, just passing through for the day with no intention of resting. Regardless, something brought you to Halamead.Year: 1032
Date: 17th of Embla
The 17th of any month is ever anything truly special. There might be a family celebrating a birth, or maybe an anniversary, but this is just a typical, normal, every day to these people. But in an instant, that changed. The air seemed to still, the birds stopped singing, parents ushered their children to the sides of the road as a thunderous sound replaced those of nature. Metal armor and horse hooves, imposing figures and a sense of dread that chilled every man, woman, and child in Halamead. Red and gold adorned their armor, their banners, rustling in the cool breezes that seemed so inappropriate now. It was like the entire town was trying to hold it's breath. The most decorated man, riding a large horse that seemed to glare into the souls of anyone close, this was the General. Not just a general, but the General. The man in charge of most of the military activity for the Empire of Liomura. Cold, ruthless, a man who travels with his most trusted soldiers to carry out whatever duties he feels fit.
For the first few minutes, he just stood here, his steed huffing and kicking at the dirt. The General was watching, observing for some unknown reaction before finally the man cleared his throat. "Citizens of Halamead." His voice boomed, narrowed eyes scanning the crowd of people who held their children and friends close. "We are looking for a rebel mage and the fugitives who have been harboring him. We know he is here, those who resist or try to hide his presence will be dealt with accordingly. Do I make myself clear?" The General would receive a myriad of mumbles from the people watching. "Atticus Lymond, either present yourself or be the reason your town is burnt to the ground."
The moment that name filled the air, gasps and words of disbelief filled the air, a single sob tearing through one woman's throat. For those that lived in Halamead, that name was the last anyone expected to hear, but no one made an effort to move. To give up Atticus. The General was not pleased by this, his cold face taking on a cynical light as it twisted. "Very well." He looked to the men on either side of him, a curt nod following each look. The soldiers he brought with him drew their weapons, the citizens collectively taking a step or two back as the soldiers started to advance. "Find him. And bring him to me once you do, anyone who stands in your way...consider them traitors."
The bird songs and children laughing were quickly replaced but the sounds of screams and battle. Those who could fight, or at least, those who wanted to protect their friends and family picked up whatever weapon they could find. The few guards Halamead had stuck in the middle of their loyalties, to the crown and their town, most chose to sit out of the battle. The mayor called for the citizens, any who could, to take shelter in the town hall, watching as their homes were set ablaze. Everyone was seen as an enemy. A traitor, the general leaving his soldiers behind to carry out their orders. You have found yourself in the middle of this chaos, no matter your reason for being in Halamead...the soldiers do not tell travelers and citizens apart.
FireMaiden
Grade A Bitch
Bailey Hall & Ryan BrightwallLocation: Halamead Town Hall - Exterior
Interaction: Open
Mentioned: N/A
If not for the screams, they'd both be trapped in that inn. The Busy Bee, a cute little place full of small rooms for travelers just like them. Now, in the heat of the moment, shock perhaps disbelief glued them in place as they watched flames dance on the roof. Neither of them knew what was going on, a long night coaxing them to stay in bed as long as they possibly could. It wasn't like Ryan had any place to be or Bailey had accepted another contract for them to handle. It was supposed to be a rare occasion of true rest. Nothing to worry about, nothing to promote constantly looking over their shoulders. But this...what was the purpose of this? "Hurry up, we need to move," a voice barked, Ryan, grabbing his companion's shoulder, giving her a light shake.
The half-elf nodded, finally able to tear her eyes away from the blaze, slender fingers fu.bling with the straps of her armor. They were hidden in some stable behind the inn, haphazardly trying to get their gear on before running out into the fray. They could hear the people screaming, the sounds of clashing metal and pleads. People begging for their life. "Ryan who the hell is attacking?" Bailey asked, having finally tugged on and secured her last piece of armor.
"Bandits, mercenaries, the fucking dragons back from the dead, I can't tell Bailey," He snapped, throwing a glare in her direction. His annoyance wasn't with her though, it was the situation. Nobody liked going into battle unprepared, especially a former soldier such as himself. Bailey took no offense to him snapping like that, it was understandable. She could see the stress creased in his brow, the way his jaw sat as she kept watch. "Are you done yet?"
"Yes, let's go." The woman nodded, reaching up to push stray hair out of her face. Pushing off the ground where he was crouched, Ryan placed one hand on the hilt of his ring sword. Regardless of what the enemy was, neither one of them would go down without a fight. It's how they were, fight to the last breath. They stuck close to the wall, the heat of the fire consuming the roof licking at their backs, Ryan peaking around the corner to observe. Bailey did the same, her face twisting in confusion. "Those are royal colors."
"I know."
"Why would royal soldiers be attacking Halamead?"
"I don't know."
"What do we do?" Bailey didn't get an answer that time, Ryan watching the citizens run from the soldiers. All in the same direction, but whether it was to just get away from them or if they were trying to get somewhere was hard to determine. These people only had one choice, but Ryan and Bailey had two. A whistle from each of them would call their mounts, they could leave and forget what was happening here. Or...
"Let's follow them, come on," Ryan commanded, earning a nod from Bailey. She would have felt wrong about leaving too. Pushing off the wall, they continued on, following the sounds of chaos. Screams and death, spells, and curses, they could hear it all. But getting involved in the fight right now, like this was...not a good idea. Two against who knows how many exactly, they'd die before actually doing any good.
"The town hall, I think that's where they're going," Bailey pointed out, watching as some farmers covered in cloth armor and wielding any tool they could somehow managed to keep the soldiers at bay outside of the largest building in Halamead. Ryan nodded. It made sense, it was the most fortified building they had. And should they need to make a stand, they could. But then again, it was a tactic these soldiers used a lot, one he had seen too. Coral them and threaten death. If they didn't comply, the entire building was burned with the people inside. It was barbaric but an excellent example.
"Let's go then," Ryan mumbled, eyes narrowed as he watched the soldiers. "We need to help force them back, your bow ready?"
"Yes, it is," Bailey replied with a nod, drawing it off her back. If they got the soldiers away from the door, helping the farmers, they could buy time for more people to get inside the town hall, but sooner or later they would have to fall back and join the citizens inside. With one last look to her Ryan nodded and stood, drawing his longsword, Bailey notched an arrow as Ryan charged. He collided with one of the soldiers, causing their head to fall back and expose some of their throat, one of Bailey's arrows embedding it's self in his flesh seconds later. A choked gurgle left the solider as they struggled, making the poor decision to pull the arrow free as his buddy charged Ryan.
The former soldier was prepared, bring his blade up to block, one of the farmers armed with a pitchfork coming in and stabbing through the weak point in the royal soldier's armor. He stumbled back, a pitchfork buried in his thigh, Ryan quickly brought his blade down and through the other thigh before he pulled the farm tool free to hand back to the farmer. "We'll make a stand here with you for as long as we're able, but sooner or later those soldiers will overwhelm us. We'll need to retreat inside before that," He spoke calmly, eyeing another wave of civilians and soldiers as Bailey reclaimed her arrow. "We won't let these boys past for as long as we stand here."
Fred Colon
It was so much easier to blame it on Them.
When Lilia had told Merin that they would be heading to Halamead, he tried to make sure he wasn’t too excited. That he didn’t lift his expectations too high. Beer from Halamead was an expensive treat in Odelun, and he’d heard it was pleasant, pastoral, and an all around lovely place to be.
He was glad he’d tempered his expectations, because it was everything he’d imagined it to be! It was a pleasant surprise, and it lifted his heart to see a place like this. Where the children ran carelessly through the streets, the adults hardworking and kind. It had been an honor to stop the Warg pack that had moved into the forest recently.
He would have done it for free. Any Candle Knight would have. But after he refused a monetary reward, they demanded he make liberal use of the Inn and Tavern. Merin refused this too, naturally, but they insisted. Merin put up a brief fight, but eventually relented. There was beer and then there was beer, and beer from Halamead was definitely beer. He’d take that over gold any day.
He just wished Lilia hadn’t been so foolhardy and gotten herself hurt. She’d used herself as bait, to draw the Wargs out of their den. It had allowed Merin to get the drop on the pack of eight horse sized wolves, but Lilia had almost been gutted from navel to sternum.
But she was alive and back in castle Dragonheart. That’s what was important. When next he saw her he would give her hell for ‘relying on agility’ instead of good old armor.
So now he was here, in the Pig and Iron inn near the center of town. It wasn't the nicest bar in Halamead, but the owner was friendly and had been one of the first to notice the Warg threat.
Merin was at the bar, nursing a mug of hoppy beer. It was good, but he was hoping to stay long enough to partake of the first of the harvest before he went on his way.
“So you killed the pack leader first?” Werla asked for the eighth time today. Her small gaggle of friends were sitting all around Merin. They were some of the young adults of the village. Old enough that they had responsibilities around town, but young enough to shirk them in order to follow around the new and interesting stranger.
“I did.” Merin said, chuckling. “Lilia had the idea to get me to climb up on top of their den, drop down onto the Wargs when they came out. Nearly broke my legs, but fortunately I had a big fuzzy beast break my fall. Went poorly for the beast, of course.” He rapped his knuckles on his armor. “I’m a little heavy.”
The young men and women laughed and tittered to one another like they hadn’t heard him tell this story a dozen times. Merin smiled into his beer.
“Who would win in a fight? You or Lilia?” One of the young men asked.
“Merin would, of course!” One of the other young men snapped, “He’s not the one who almost got eaten!”
“Oh, I don’t know. Lilia is quite the fighter.” Merin said, “You can’t always judge by who made it out of the fight. How you fare in battle is a lot about skill, but it’s also a lot about luck. Lilia is fast and smart and knows just where to strike. I wouldn’t like to bet on that fight! Besides, it’ll never happen. Lilia is a good person. I don’t pick up my ax unless I need to. She would never make me need to. She's got a better heart than me.”
Suddenly there was a change in the air. The young folk couldn’t feel it, the two men had gotten into a playful shoving match, while Werla rolled her eyes at them. But the people outside had gone quiet. Merin had been enjoying the ambient sounds of Halamead, but those sounds had stopped.
“Wait here.” Merin said suddenly.
“What?”
Merin strapped his ax, Gudrid to his waist and hefted his shield onto his back, before stomping outside.
"Citizens of Halamead." A man said, decked in gold and red. He sat atop a warhorse, and soldiers stood in formation all around him. Merin didn’t know him, but it seemed like the people here did.
"We are looking for a rebel mage and the fugitives who have been harboring him. We know he is here, those who resist or try to hide his presence will be dealt with accordingly. Do I make myself clear?" The General would receive a myriad of mumbles from the people watching. "Atticus Lymond, either present yourself or be the reason your town is burnt to the ground."
Merin’s eyes narrowed. Leaving the fate of the town to the consciousness of a fugitive? Merin didn’t know who this Atticus Lymond was, but if he was on the run, something told him that he wouldn’t just give himself up. Would this man really burn this town down?
Yes. He would. He could hear it in the man’s voice.
Merin was proven immediately right.
The soldiers seemed to determine that everyone was an enemy, regardless of what they did. He heard the mayor call for people to shelter in the town hall. He turned, to spot Werla and her friends standing in the door of the inn, eyes wide.
A fire caught on one of the nearby houses. Soldiers in red and gold were fanning out, weapons drawn, torches in hand.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Merin growled at Werla.
“What are you going to do?”
“What I always do.” He said, unhooking his ax from his belt. “Stand up to bullies. I’ll make a nice big ruckus. Keep their attention away from you. Run. Now. If you can, convince the mayor to flee while they’re looking at me. I don’t like your chances if they start setting things on fire. The town hall might be safer but it can still burn. I'll get out of here once I know you're all safe.”
Werla stopped, her two friends looked to her. Merin was afraid she was going to insist on staying with him, to fight. She was at that age where fighting was seen as romantic, not the bloody, tragic mess it really was. But then she nodded, and she and her friends fled.
Merin spotted four soldiers who were casually lighting torches, surrounding a house whose occupants were currently fleeing up the street. The men had let them go, laughing.
Merin took up running, gaining a fair bit of speed and momentum. He hit the first one hard and low. Not with his ax, but with his shoulder. He felt bones snap, but it shouldn’t have been a lethal blow. The man he struck dropped the torch he was carrying and was knocked five feet backwards. Merin’s booted foot crushed the head of the torch, snuffing it out while the man groaned on the floor ahead of him.
Merin smashed his ax on his shield once, twice, thrice.
“If any wandering warrior here has a spine, you’ll stand and fight these tyrants!” He thundered. “If any of the Halamead guard has an ounce of righteousness, you’ll help put a stop to the burning of your buildings and the assault on your neighbors. If any of you soldiers has a sliver of conscience, you’ll throw down your weapons and return home instead of burning the homes of innocent men and women!”
Merin knew his cry wouldn’t turn many hearts, if any. If it were as easy as that the world would be a different place. But what it did do was draw attention to him. Now that it was his, he had to keep it. He had to be a threat. Give the villagers time to organize and then, hopefully, retreat to join up with them before he was overwhelmed.
The soldiers in front of him had drawn their weapons. Merin launched himself forwards at another one. To their credit, these soldiers knew how to fight, and knew how to fight together. They didn’t fight separately, they fought as a team. Unfortunately for them, they obviously didn’t have experience with dwarves, or dwarven made armor.
The first sword broke on Merin’s armored shoulder. Shoddy. They needed to take better care of their weapons.
The second blade, angled for a gap in Merin’s armor, he knocked aside with his shield. The third man managed to strike Merin’s helmeted head, but wasn’t that what a helmet was for? Merin’s armor turned the blade, though the man was strong, and the force of the blow hurt, the armor not stopping the sheer brutish force of it, even if it did stop it from piercing him. He’d have a nice lump on his head tomorrow.
But Merin’s axe lashed out, sinking into the offending soldiers arm. The man screamed as Gudrid bit half way through his arm, forcing him to drop his blade, as Merin whirled around to smash the back of his axe into the face of one of the other soldiers that was trying to take another shot at him.
Gudrid’s solid head crushed the man’s nose and upper cheek, blood spattering onto the axes beautifully worked haft, blood that matched the blood on it’s bladed head. The soldier dropped like a log. Merin hoped he hadn’t killed him, but he didn’t have time to be nice. If he held back it would probably be him who died. These soldiers weren’t the kind he could fight with kids gloves on, he didn’t think.
The third soldier was wary of him now. Wary and scared. Merin used that. He didn’t give him time to work up courage, to set his head straight. Merin charged him, smashing his shield into him and ramming the soldier into the wall of the building they were about to set on fire. When the soldier was pinned, Merin hit the man with the haft of his axe once, twice, thrice until he was, hopefully, unconscious.
The Soldier whose arm Merin had cleaved halfway through retreated without his sword.
“A poor showing!” Merin shouted.
There. A threat. Now to see if he would survive the next handful of minutes. Lilia would be very upset with him if he died while she wasn't around.
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FuzzyKaktus
Imposter
Juniper sat hunched over a small wooden table, staring at the worn-out pages of a book, a very thick and dreadfully boring book. When she had purchased 'The Secrets and History of Liomura.' she expected more of an exciting tale of dragons and magic and less of a list of every single king who ever ruled and their dull accomplishments and secrets, what use did she have in learning of a dead nobleman's former mistresses?! She sat in her rented room at the Busy Bee tavern and tried her best to tune out the roaring laughter of the drunkards that filled the barroom below her, however, all this ended in was a terrible sense of boredom creeping up on her, after a few minutes of fighting against her body to keep her eyes on the words before her, she decided instead to give up on the fruitless venture, instead, she moved over to the window next to her bed and stared the town outside, it was a lovely town from the little she had seen of it, the children playing merrily and the adults doing there best to provide for them. But, most importantly it was peaceful, it was one of the reasons Juniper had taken the risk of stepping foot into the human empire, why she had dawned a hood and a mask, and taken the treacherous journey to get here. The smell of skewers filled the room as the tiefling brought her attention to a small plate of freshly cooked meat, happiness filled her as she sat and enjoyed her delicious meal, even if she didn't have a clue what type of animal it came from was, and remembered why she took the risk in the first place, she had to uncover what mysteries lie in this empire, and while she had planned to go straight to Freyford and then proceed into the green mist, she felt as if that would be a one-way journey, and besides, there was no harm in taking a small vacation before that.
So, with a lazy smile on her face, Juniper let her eyelids drift closed and prepared for some much-needed rest, rest that she would not receive, just before her continuous drifted off into the realm of dreams, her eyes shot open, she heard the sound of horses in the distance, hundreds of them, accompanied by them was the distinct sound of metal clinging against metal, there were a few things that these sounds together could mean, none of them particularly good. Before her mind could fully comprehend what was going on her body sprung into action, cramming all of her belongings into her bag and quickly rushing down the stairs in hopes of escaping whatever threat was coming towards this town, and most importantly her. She didn't care if it was some friendly group of knights coming this way to have a drink, they wouldn't be friendly to a stray tiefling wandering there empire freely. Unfortunately, her hopes of escape were squandered a voice began to speak, a cold and authoritative voice that seemed to echo on every wall of that tavern and made her blood turn to ice.
"Atticus Lymond, either present yourself or be the reason your town is burnt to the ground." It roared. She could hear the screams of the villagers accompanied by the unmistakable sound of sword ripping through flesh as the knights of the empire, the very men meant to protect this cursed human land, turned on their people. She could almost picture the delight, in that man's eyes as he ordered the town and all of its innocents to be burnt the ground. There was only one word that echoed in her mind 'RUN' and of course, she did she was the first one out the tavern door, her staff was gripped so tightly in her gray hands, that her knuckles turned white beneath her leather gloves. Screams filled the streets as defenseless women and children ran away from the needless violence behind them. While some men stayed behind to aide in the battle and protect there home.
"This way to the town hall." someone yelled out from next to her. They didn't have to tell her twice she was now set on following the seemingly endless stream of people as they made their way to that building. On her way there was something that made her slow to a stop, well a someone a woman crashed right in front of her, blood pooling underneath her. Juniper looked to her right and saw a knight of the human empire, blade covered in crimson red, with his back turned to her, in front of him seemed to be a small child who would soon meet the same fate. Without thinking her staff was raised into the air and brought down on to the knights head with a satisfying thud. It wouldn't kill the bastard, but it would slow him down. Soon, she was running away from the scene of the crime, with a child in her arms.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Don't die." She muttered under her breath as she made a last mad dash into the town hall with a child in her arms. She put the small human and collapsed to the floor. The king was cruel to other races and his people, but she had no idea that he would be this cruel. Juniper spent what seemed to be hours, although it was likely a much shorter amount of time, healing small injuries on the people around her, as well as bandaging up the bigger ones that she couldn't heal herself. The adrenaline pumping through her veins seemed to override the drowsiness that she felt earlier. The medical aide was hard work, work she could not do with the fucking mask and gloves she was wearing. Soon they were dropped to the ground with a brief thud, along with her hood and the illusion magic that kept her horns hidden. There was a gasp that filled the room. But, they all had much bigger problems to worry about. So, with her identity apparent and the threat of enslavement or more likely death looming over her, she grabbed her staff. If she was going to die, she was going to put up one hell of a fight.
Hanarei
Rawr-ness
Re'Wersu
Location: Just Outside Halamead 'Jail' (If a building with a few Jail cells can even be called that)
The small quaint town of Halamead. The man things she had heard about it over her life. A town nestled on the steps into the dwarven mountains. A place in which found a more symbiotic relationship with nature around her. A place that is ripe to grow various crops. Almost serene in the way it functioned having a very warm and welcoming atmosphere to it. More so it was famous for its various alcohol. The stories about it she had heard from her tribesman on top of the little she did get to try herself had made it one of her first destinations to go to. It wasn't as if she wasn't allowed to drink at all back home... but god damn did the other shamans have to be so stuck up about it and 'keeping a clear mind to communicate with the spirits. Phooey! Almost as phooey as this damn jail cell she was stuck in, cuffs around her wrists having been stuck in their for the night.
We don't care if he said an insulting word to you, ya can't go knocking some big dummy out for being stupid and obnoxious for saying dumb shit like I'm a damn cute cat. You don't go tossing people around who are trying to calm you down either, that dung-heap got what he deserved with patting her on the head too! Lousy good for nothing people not allowing to get what they deserved. Stupid town, bad enough it smells so bleh!
She conversed seeming to herself in her own head though the cringe was noticeable on her face particularly with her nose as if becoming aware again of the smell that permiated the town being rather unpleasant with how rich it was. Far from the worst scent her sensitive nose had to take in but did it ever make her nose feel twitchy. If it wasn't for the good liquor she would of likely left the place a day before avoiding the little incident. Heck, without the alcohol chances are she would of just been given a warning and wouldn't of started tossing people trying to ease her down in the first place. Her wolf ears were perked up hearing some strange sounds of metal and giant mobile meat carriers could be heard approaching. Her amber eyes glanced over from the bars of the jail noticing one of the jailers, a much more meek and clearly newer man in the roll peeking out the window. It seemed something was going on though she didn't get to see it just listen in.
The woman groaned falling back onto the wooden bench her curved figure quite being shown off wearing a form fitting shouder less top cut off just under her chest. A white fur attached to a collar acting as a sort of cloak covering part of her shoulder and reaching down almost halfway down her back. Her tail picked out from her backside, the fluffy tail bending a bit to fit against the wall though sitting slanted enough to keep comfortable with the white bushy tip swaying a bit to get comfortable. She wore a pair of short leather pants, a small bit of white fur along the trip with a much thicker layer around the leg holes combined with the belt keeping them snug in place despite their minimal covering allowing not the slightest bit of anything under them to peek out. Her fingers tapped against the walls through her fingerless leather gloves with yet more of the fur lining the lower portions with a matching pair of rugged boots covering her legs as she left them extended out crossed as if to be comfortable despite her annoyance being kept caged up.
It didn't take seeing the guards reaction for Re'Wersu's ears to twitch to life as she could hear the sound of the swords being drawn. Was whoever that person that important enough for them to go all aggressive on the people? Her eyes fixating on the man as he suddenly began to curse under his breath making her glance a bit at him cocking her head to the side. She watched him fumble over heading to the key rack skimming over it several times grabbing the one key before cursing under his breath. She rolled her eyes ratting the chains on her shackles as if to draw his attention.
"Hey... come on hurry up now. You want me free to go bashing some skulls out there or not? Come on come on come on!" She hurried him clearly a bit impatient as she jumped up wandering over to the door waiting to be let go. The guard hurried over seeming uneasy as he unlocked the door opening it for Re'Wersu to walk out holding the shackles before him as he looked down seeming quite uneasy.
"Well... come on already. I don't got all damn day!" She spoke shaking the shackles again as he looked at her. Her eyes quite stern not very happy at how long he was taking.
"Well... um... I uh.... the jailer kinda has the shackle key on him and he is out there somewhere so... uh... your going to have to deal with those till we get to the town hall and hopefully find him. Ah, also no sass around me you! You would of been stuck in here a day longer but given the situation and the more minor nature of your crime your just being let go sooner."
Re'Wersu growled under her breath glancing over to where her things were obviously having no way of grabbing her pack with her hands shackled. The giant cleave sword she had sitting against the wall looked rather intimidating though she reached up grabbing it, awkwardly fumbling to lift it up with one hand, the weight quite heavy and awkward even for her though she managed to take hold. She attempted to grab it with two hands cringing a bit as she found the short chain of the shackles was just a little too short to quite reach to grip it two hands. She grumbled awkward reaching grabbing the strap to her pack holding it in her hand looking a bit ridiculous holding onto it careful to hold it in a way the spears inside wouldn't fall out on her.
"Just great... I should be there bashing in the generals head for going around threatening civilians like the cowardly swine he is. Whatever town hall, lets go i guess." She spoke regrettable she couldn't do much fighting as she was at least not very effectively. She followed the guard out the man quickly drawing his sword barely blocking an attack from a soldier. Re'Wersu charged out suddenly jump kicking the man sending him topping over nearly falling on her ass in the process wobbling about managing to get her balance back. Her head turning to the guard she was with.
"Well hurry up to the dumb town hall or wherever the heck the jailer is so I can be free." She spoke out waving her shackled hands around a little wobbly with her large sword quite heavy in her hands shifting her position a little to lean it against herself to deal with the weight looking more like some bumbling idiot who forgot to put on most their clothing holding a big weapon and a pack with spears then any sort of actual fighter.
Mentioned: None (Open for Interaction)
Kylesar1
This is my loudest bork
Melora Adonis
Hotel Room --------> Town Hall
Hotel Room --------> Town Hall
It was getting real, that's for certain. One minute, the woman was relaxing and enjoying a hot tub. The next, there were sounds of screams and clashing sword. Getting out of the tub and running to the window, she viewed the grounds below and knew that it was about time to get her clothes on lest someone charge in on her while she was bare. She stumbled back to the bathroom and quickly dried off. This town was under attack and they were killing innocents. If they were killing innocents, there was no way they cared if you were a resident or not, which she wasn't. Melora quickly threw on her gear and grabbed her stuff.
A bang on her door and she jumped back, holding her bow at the ready and notching an arrow to it. Then a loud crash as an axe head was brought against the door. Then again. Then again. A head poked through the sturdy door along with a hand going for the door knob. He didn't even see when he took an arrow directly between the eyes. It wouldn't be good to fight in the narrow hotel halls, so she thought of a new idea. Going to the door, she took note of the royal crest on the helmet and then closed her eyes. "I desire to see what's in my mind's eye," she muttered. Suddenly she lost all 4 of her other senses. Now deaf, numb, unsmelling, and untasting, anyone with the royal crest on their person, whether it be on equipment, a tattoo, or so much as a handkerchief, were seen in full red and through walls. "Hmmmm, quite a few people here, and starting fires." Yeah, she wasn't touching the hallway
Instead, she went to a window and grabbed the ledge. Kicking in the window, she flung herself into that room . There weren't as many enemies here and all of them seemed to be barging into other rooms. Melora took that time to creep through the hallways, ducking into a room with a kicked in door when she saw one of those outlines moving back into the hallway. Inside that room was a dead body. An old man lying in a pool of his own blood, head bashed in with a blunt weapon, most likely a hammer. While her stomach was churning at the sight, avenging this old man would ultimately be the death of her. The king had absolute brutes as soldiers. Bloodthirsty, moral-less savages of people.
From the 2nd story room she was in, she could jump to the ground now without fear of breaking limbs........but should she? Probably. Everyone was moving towards Town Hall, so she should probably get there as well. She pulled out a vial of black powder. Activating fire, she threw it out and it unleashed a large amount of black smoke.......then she took her jump. Upon landing, she took off to Town Hall. Upon being welcomed by a guard, she stopped there and dropped her bags at her feet. She notched another arrow to her bow and was ready. Most of the population of the town was in this Town Hall and as many as possible would be slaughtered until they accomplished whatever mission they were here to accomplish. Melora didn't know. Melora didn't care. She just knew that it was time to hunt and she couldn't get a good shot if she were with the townsfolk inside the building.
Dovinique
a fishy little sushi
CHARACTER SHEET
LOCATION General Store 》Town Hall Outskirt
INTERACTION None
MENTION
FireMaiden
Getting her father's permission to get out from Soitueax was easier than she thought it would. It seemed that her father finally understood that Eu'Minba was an independent soul with desires of her own. Eu'Minba deserved to make her own decisions, her life was hers alone not her father's. After teary farewell with her father and Doraion, Eu'Minba set out on her first journey. But well, it seemed that getting out of Soitueax was not an easy matter. Luckily, there was a kind elf that willing to take her secretly to Cayonne where Eu'Minba restocked her supplies before moving to Halamead as their final destination. The trip took more than months, but it was surely worth to bear.
Arriving there, Eu'Minba welcomed by its warm refreshing air. None seemed disturbed by her bull appearance which was kinda relieving, all of them were already busy with their hustle. Carrying her cart, Eu'Minba visited the general store to browse some goods. So many new things occupied her brain, making her lost in her own fantasy world. Excitement sparked in her glowing eyes as her little fingers traced over the shelves. If only she could buy every single thing here, Eu'Minba would surely have lots of new recipes ready to be brewed.
Her attention distracted when the lively chatters around her suddenly turned into solid silence. The other customers drew themselves to the store's window, witnessing some fancy knights entering the once peaceful town. A man who seemed to be the leader roared in a dominating tone, loud enough to pass by the door just to leave a lingering whisper to Eu'Minba's elvish ears. For the first time in her short life, she sensed a great danger merely from hearing his voice. She never faced such threats in Soitueax, everything always stayed in peace and harmony there. This too was a new experience... this was dangerous yet... so exciting?
A nervous beat could be heard clearly enough from her chest. Eu'Minba, of course, feared for her life but she couldn't deny that she had been longing for this kind of feeling. She had been living in tranquility for too long. To experience such events like this was needed to shape her better, but she knew nothing about the danger she was facing. All of a sudden, her arm was grabbed forcefully as she was dragged to the back door, leaving her precious cart behind.
"Where are your parents?" A question thrown at her as the old man lead her together with other villagers.
"Parents?!" she was offended for sure. The little bull was tired of treated like a baby in Soitueax, she wouldn't let another stranger treated her like one. Flipping the old man's kind intention away, she freed herself and ran back to the store. Her belongings were far more important than her life. A lifetime effort laid inside her cart, it would take many, many years if she had to start from scratch. Sighing in relief, she found it still inside the store untouched.
After she retrieved her cart, a deafening blow broke the front door, revealing several angry knights with bloody swords tightly gripped by their muscular hands. A short silence filled the air before Eu'Minba cast her magic on their standing ground, cracked it open to trap their feet temporarily. Knowing she just provoked the knights, Eu'Minba took one of her potions, the mighty elixir that boosted her entire status for 10 minutes straight. As the potion started affecting her body, she took her chances to make an escape, ignoring the knights that shouted in rage while trying to free themselves.
The next critical minutes spent with endless running, her main goal was to find a safe place before the potion effect wasted away. She followed the crowd to the town hall, evading fights as much as she could. It was amazing how a single potion could boost her frail body even just for a short time. If she could develop the potion more, maybe it might give longer effects, even permanent might achievable. As the town hall came into view, a sharp pain started to attack her tiny body, "No... not now...."
The great boost left significant consequences to Eu'Minba for it forced her body to work beyond its capacity. As the effects started to evaporate, her run gradually changed into a shuffling walk. A soft thud heard when her body fell to the ground, she was completely helpless. She should have shouted for help when she could, but her pride still controlling her senses. Before Eu'Minba lost her consciousness completely, she noticed two figures not far from her, fighting the knights with all their might. Maybe... maybe they could help her, yet her outstretched hand couldn't reach them.
"Why... even out here I'm still powerless..." she mumbled for the last time, then everything faded to pitch black.
Last edited:
Danidify
Wigless
It's always been weird how disarray manages to move faster than the actual conflict that causes it. While the folk of Halamead were all still living their day as per usual, deafening themselves with their own work, the forest was listening all too well.
First came nature's flare; the birds, taking to the skies and passing over the forest in trails of chirps that would set even more avians into motion. Soon, its forces would catch on, the Faye taking to the trees and groves as they hurriedly tried to aide the plants and animals. One Faye, however, seemed to have different plans.
In a confident sprint, Elysia motioned her way through the forest, plants gently moving to the side like servants for a queen. Lime eyes peeked past the dense shrubbery, their slight wavering giving away hints of nervosity yet excitement as she neared the edge of her home. She wasn't supposed to be doing this at all, but stubbornness finally took a hold of her.
Take a deep breath.
After a couple seconds, the muffled tapping of her bare feet on the soil came to a halt, replaced by a tiny little chirp from an equally tiny little bird. A few flutters later, a white dove took flight.
As foreign steps entered the settlement of Halamead, Elysia sat irked over a building’s roof as some sort of preventive peace offering. The white dove stood for peace after all, but the words that would fill the sky most certainly didn’t.
One of the golden rules of the Faye was to stay away from the sources of everlasting greed, recklessness, brutality and pride of the world; all the other races. There were days where Elysia wouldn’t have even dared to dream about this day, but times had changed. Halamead clearly wasn’t the biggest threat to the forest anymore.
It didn’t take long before agony cleared the air of its former serenity, Elysia returning to her human state swiftly after having placed herself back on the ground. She remained still for a bit, staring through the dark like a prowling cat until the clumsy clunking of iron crossed her path.
Two seeds dropped to the ground, sinking between the cracks of the stone.
Like some sort of lovecraftian horror, a couple vines crept out of the darkness of the alley-way, slithering forth until they caught onto the bulk of iron. In tight grasps, the vines grew upwards along the legs of the victim whom hadn’t even noticed their touch until he was pulled to the ground, the loud thud of the impact disappearing into the noisy frey.
Before the soldier could even grasp the situation properly, Elysia was already by his side holding another piece of nature’s most deadly weapons; the stick.
In two rather brutal swings aimed at the face, Elysia, who seemed surprisingly apathetic, managed to render the soldier unconscious. She would smile a tad mischievously as she cheekily cursed at him in Faye.
Truth be told, Elysia wasn’t much of a fighter at all, but that wasn’t because she didn’t have the guts to do it.
Walking a circle around the soldier in order to avoid his gear, Alysia came to a standstill at the edge of the alleyway, taking in the vicious picture of violent bloodshed and treachery. She could already imagine this exact scene recurring at her home, and that foresight gave her enough bravery to keep moving on.
To clear things up; Elysia wasn’t there to save Halamead or help the people. Her presence was still predominantly selfish, and she made sure to repeat that to herself as she took in the carnage from above.
Having returned to her bird state, Elysia was now trailing after the retreating people, taking note of a specific building that most seemed to run to. She also managed to take note of a seemingly helpless, small creature laying on the ground. Their short stature and weird features made them stand out from the crowd, and Elysia wasn’t really sure what she was looking at.
At first she definitely wasn’t going to help. Again, she wasn’t there to sacrifice herself for some random human; but this.. person - was it a child? - seemed really frail. Tension built up as Elysia noticed another nasty hulk of iron move towards the girl, making it feel like she had bricks suddenly stuck to her wings.
Well, so much for apathy and selfishness.
Taking a bold dive, Elysia rushes down in all her chirping glory, her not-so sharp claws scratching at the metal helmet of her target. It didn’t do much damage, but it distracted the guard enough for one of the townsfolk to land a solid hit.
Landing next to the aching horned creature, Elysia shifted back to herself, her bare knees placed down on the ground.
She gave two quick slaps to the girl’s left cheek.
“Hello? Hello??” Accented Common escaped her mouth.
Elysia saw no reaction.
She repeated the slaps. Again, no reaction.
Releasing a deep, deep sigh, Elysia looked around briefly before working her arms underneath the lifeless body, one passing just below the shoulders and the other behind her knees. Garnering what strength she has, Elysia, who tried to hide her identity with a loose white hood, managed to get up on her feet and started making her way to the town hall.
A few pushes and nudges later (or rather, her getting pushed and nudged around), the Forest Nymph made it through the doors into the temporary safezone, landing back on her knees as she carefully placed down the frail girl.
While her ears were still completely fixed on the conflict behind her, Elysia’s hands were ruffling through her satchels, various seeds and clumps of dirt falling down to the ground as she tried to find something that could help. Eventually, she managed to pull out a leaf from one of the more secluded pouches, bringing it up to the stranger’s nose.
The leaf, belonging to the Osharian Snowbell, didn’t seem all that special and, truth be told, wasn’t. It’s just that its smell happened to be incredibly foul and strong, something that stood in direct opposition to the healing properties of the actual plant itself. Elysia hoped this could perhaps help wake her, as the Nymph definitely didn’t have time to stay with her.
Elysia kept moving around the leaf around the girl’s face, (probably accidentally tickling her in the process) all the while looking over her shoulder every few seconds.
Growing impatient steadily, the amount of times she looked behind increased, and she eventually took some more measures.
Reaching close to the girl’s face, Elysia would shout “Wake up!” right into her ear, likely repeating it a couple times should she not wake up.
NOTE:
Dovinique
all my interactions are only 'what would Elysia do if she stayed in this situation', so feel free to cut them off at any point!
First came nature's flare; the birds, taking to the skies and passing over the forest in trails of chirps that would set even more avians into motion. Soon, its forces would catch on, the Faye taking to the trees and groves as they hurriedly tried to aide the plants and animals. One Faye, however, seemed to have different plans.
In a confident sprint, Elysia motioned her way through the forest, plants gently moving to the side like servants for a queen. Lime eyes peeked past the dense shrubbery, their slight wavering giving away hints of nervosity yet excitement as she neared the edge of her home. She wasn't supposed to be doing this at all, but stubbornness finally took a hold of her.
Take a deep breath.
After a couple seconds, the muffled tapping of her bare feet on the soil came to a halt, replaced by a tiny little chirp from an equally tiny little bird. A few flutters later, a white dove took flight.
As foreign steps entered the settlement of Halamead, Elysia sat irked over a building’s roof as some sort of preventive peace offering. The white dove stood for peace after all, but the words that would fill the sky most certainly didn’t.
One of the golden rules of the Faye was to stay away from the sources of everlasting greed, recklessness, brutality and pride of the world; all the other races. There were days where Elysia wouldn’t have even dared to dream about this day, but times had changed. Halamead clearly wasn’t the biggest threat to the forest anymore.
It didn’t take long before agony cleared the air of its former serenity, Elysia returning to her human state swiftly after having placed herself back on the ground. She remained still for a bit, staring through the dark like a prowling cat until the clumsy clunking of iron crossed her path.
Two seeds dropped to the ground, sinking between the cracks of the stone.
Like some sort of lovecraftian horror, a couple vines crept out of the darkness of the alley-way, slithering forth until they caught onto the bulk of iron. In tight grasps, the vines grew upwards along the legs of the victim whom hadn’t even noticed their touch until he was pulled to the ground, the loud thud of the impact disappearing into the noisy frey.
Before the soldier could even grasp the situation properly, Elysia was already by his side holding another piece of nature’s most deadly weapons; the stick.
In two rather brutal swings aimed at the face, Elysia, who seemed surprisingly apathetic, managed to render the soldier unconscious. She would smile a tad mischievously as she cheekily cursed at him in Faye.
Truth be told, Elysia wasn’t much of a fighter at all, but that wasn’t because she didn’t have the guts to do it.
Walking a circle around the soldier in order to avoid his gear, Alysia came to a standstill at the edge of the alleyway, taking in the vicious picture of violent bloodshed and treachery. She could already imagine this exact scene recurring at her home, and that foresight gave her enough bravery to keep moving on.
To clear things up; Elysia wasn’t there to save Halamead or help the people. Her presence was still predominantly selfish, and she made sure to repeat that to herself as she took in the carnage from above.
Having returned to her bird state, Elysia was now trailing after the retreating people, taking note of a specific building that most seemed to run to. She also managed to take note of a seemingly helpless, small creature laying on the ground. Their short stature and weird features made them stand out from the crowd, and Elysia wasn’t really sure what she was looking at.
At first she definitely wasn’t going to help. Again, she wasn’t there to sacrifice herself for some random human; but this.. person - was it a child? - seemed really frail. Tension built up as Elysia noticed another nasty hulk of iron move towards the girl, making it feel like she had bricks suddenly stuck to her wings.
Well, so much for apathy and selfishness.
Taking a bold dive, Elysia rushes down in all her chirping glory, her not-so sharp claws scratching at the metal helmet of her target. It didn’t do much damage, but it distracted the guard enough for one of the townsfolk to land a solid hit.
Landing next to the aching horned creature, Elysia shifted back to herself, her bare knees placed down on the ground.
She gave two quick slaps to the girl’s left cheek.
“Hello? Hello??” Accented Common escaped her mouth.
Elysia saw no reaction.
She repeated the slaps. Again, no reaction.
Releasing a deep, deep sigh, Elysia looked around briefly before working her arms underneath the lifeless body, one passing just below the shoulders and the other behind her knees. Garnering what strength she has, Elysia, who tried to hide her identity with a loose white hood, managed to get up on her feet and started making her way to the town hall.
A few pushes and nudges later (or rather, her getting pushed and nudged around), the Forest Nymph made it through the doors into the temporary safezone, landing back on her knees as she carefully placed down the frail girl.
While her ears were still completely fixed on the conflict behind her, Elysia’s hands were ruffling through her satchels, various seeds and clumps of dirt falling down to the ground as she tried to find something that could help. Eventually, she managed to pull out a leaf from one of the more secluded pouches, bringing it up to the stranger’s nose.
The leaf, belonging to the Osharian Snowbell, didn’t seem all that special and, truth be told, wasn’t. It’s just that its smell happened to be incredibly foul and strong, something that stood in direct opposition to the healing properties of the actual plant itself. Elysia hoped this could perhaps help wake her, as the Nymph definitely didn’t have time to stay with her.
Elysia kept moving around the leaf around the girl’s face, (probably accidentally tickling her in the process) all the while looking over her shoulder every few seconds.
Growing impatient steadily, the amount of times she looked behind increased, and she eventually took some more measures.
Reaching close to the girl’s face, Elysia would shout “Wake up!” right into her ear, likely repeating it a couple times should she not wake up.
NOTE:
Dovinique
all my interactions are only 'what would Elysia do if she stayed in this situation', so feel free to cut them off at any point!
DrawingMoo
A new artist has joined the game
Elias Caern, to the Town Hall
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Go get some rest, Father Allan had said when she returned to the abbey after the last stint on duty. Go get some rest, Father Allan had said as she stitched up a shallow but ragged pike wound and gritted her teeth. Go get some rest, Father Allan had said as he wrote a letter to a neighboring church in the north near some nice forests asking if they would put her up for a couple weeks to meditate and re-center herself after the last campaign. For a couple blissful days in the cinnamon air of rural Halamead, Elias had done just that. She'd put her sword and armor down in the church up the road and helped the friars prepare the property for winter, wrapping up apple trees with burlap and laying pine boughs around the base to keep the hardest of the frost off the roots, pruning and raking and all sorts. Even helped fix the roof, since none of the old men could carry the heavy shingles up the ladder. And it had been one fine, crisp morning too that saw Elias grab her sword and pack just in case with the roads being what they are, and take a small cart into town to see about getting the church a treat for her going-away dinner out of what small funds she'd made doing odd jobs around the city. It had been hard work but good work. Maybe that cranky geezer that raised her was right, going to get some rest had been a good thing. Maybe he was as full of it as always, as she watched smoke rise from the city and saw the waving banners of royalty as she crested the hill.
The woman came to alert nigh instantly and the transaction at the farmstand outside its bounds stalled. When Elias began to hear screams, there was a hurried and chaotic exchange with the poor chap to pay him for a jar of jam and tossed the mule's lead around a post with a call over her shoulder to bring it back to the church up the road. And she was off, moving into the city around some back side street by the tall grasses and thicker orchards, skirting the heavy breathing of men in armor and horses churning the earth. The sounds of battle were never new, but they were never pretty either and Elias knew enough by now to know this was going poorly. Those without that kind of intuition don't live very long. Somewhere under cover from prying eyes, she slung down her pack and roughly pulled her gambeson and unlatched the helm from the side. Hair, scabbard, head of her spear wrapped in cloth, helm on and visor down. It's probably better if she looks like a man. The smoke smelled closer. The pack was shouldered again and the grizzled woman darted through the city, trying to find the origins of fires. She didn't know what was going on or why, and she wasn't about to get involved. Just find people and get them out. Did they block the wells? Elias makes a b-line for the first one she sees and prays it hasn't gone dry. A panicked villager careens past and she grabs them by the shoulder and shoves a bucket into their hands with a harsh point at the nearest fire. She does it again to another, and once a couple of them seem to get the message, the helmeted figure starts to wind her way through the bloody streets towards the town hall. It's not like Elias has any other options- she can't turn around and leave, but she's never one to act out on her own. Assess, get orders, proceed. Go from there. The woman dodges streets that are blocked by skirmishes, not wanting to waste time, and goes out of her way to avoid any of the crown's men. If she can make it through this mess and say honestly that she never struck a fellow soldier when the dust settles, that would make Allan very happy, or at least not disappointed.
In passing a nasty sprawl between soldiers and the townsfolk, a family in particular, the cleric has to stop herself from drawing her sword. These aren't your fellow men, Elias. These are his men, and they won't turn the cheek because you're a holywoman. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but she does so and moves on.
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cybercrypt
entity
Asahi'ris Benkei (Harima Higo)
Harima merrily basked in the jovial vibe of the Busy Bee, exuberant and spritely chatter emanating the same homely sensations that he had rejoiced over as a kid. Now, reduced to the imagination, filtered in through his mind and marinated on the shores of his psyche. He identified some of the more rowdy and affable patrons through the minuscule yet discernible distinctions in their voices, and as they engaged in a standard bout of ribbing banter and cordial celebration, their half-drunk flagons swirled with scents reminiscent of their floral sources. A vast, toast-oaken pillar stood proud with ornately carved iron clamps supporting the robust stanchion, restricting some perspective into the half quarter. It was Harima's mother who had decorated this particular pillar, carving its wood with patterns of an elaborate florid bouquet, and the metal was sculptured with the inn's crest; featured on the wooden hanging outside. Harima sat with a former student, and his apprentice, at a modest little booth which was tucked cosily away in the corner. Harima indulged in some drinking, though resigned his pitcher when the thrumming, static ecstasy began to cradle his already calm nerves with a mellow buzz. He rests both forearms on the table, one crossed over the other as a swilled rag cushioned them between the lacquered surface, and he dipped his cheek to his shoulder for comfort. It was better to perceive the atmosphere this way, too. The Dwarf's presence had chimed in on Harima's listening contemplation upon the rapping of knuckles on armour. He wrestled with his memory to measure the density and reverberation by replaying the sound, then borrowing intuition, guessed it had to be Dwarven plate. Harima always had an appreciation for the blacksmiths of Oshar for their trade was one forged with passion. As he admired the Dwarf's philosophy about battle, his student's apprentice piped up with slurred wonderment.
"Sssenshei Hee-go, why does my ability not improve? I'm always defeated."
Harima, pensive and forever patient, smiled at his question and parted his lips to reply, though interrupted by his student slamming both palms on the table and gleefully exclaiming, "Oi! I know this one!"
The student, nicknamed Ironclaw for his mastery of the Lock Catch technique, which is representative of gripping, a system of joint locks, takedowns, and pressure point strikes, swiveled to his student and replied: "My dear pupil, have you seen the gulls flying by the setting sun, and their wings seeming like flames?"
A knowing smile began to accentuate Harima's lips as the pupil returned with keen fascination "Yes, my master, I have."
"And a waterfall, spilling mightily over the stones without taking anything out of its proper place?"
"Yes, my master, I have witnessed it."
"And the moon..." Ironclaw continued, Harima now stifling a laugh into his bicep, "when it touches the calm water to reflect all its enormous beauty?"
And in earnest, with a studious flicker, the pupil replied, "Yes, my master, I have also seen this marvelous phenomenon!"
There was a pause as Ironclaw took a swig from his tankard.
"That's the problem. You keep watching all this shit instead of training."
Harima banged the table with a fist as they both chortled with laughter, leaving the poor student bewildered and quite frankly embarrassed. Though he took it in jest, shaking his head with a grin and knocking back some ale. Ironclaw remembered when Harima would seldom make the same joke to the inquisitive mind, all those years ago. A bittersweet reminiscence was shared between Harima and Ironclaw, though they didn't have to say anything about it. Unexpectedly a waiter appeared from the barside, balancing a tray of pitchers and offering the retinue their fair share. Ironclaw engaged the offer and beckoned the man, who promptly paced over and set the tray down. Ironclaw paid upon request and the waiter dispensed them their drinks. As he turned, however, his foot knocked the habaki* which was resting against Harima's knee, sending it to a clatter on the floor.
"Ahh! Damn, please forgive me sir!" he apologised, to which Harima dismissed with a kind wave of his hand. The waiter picked it back up and admired the quality of his 'walking cane'. "Waaaaow. Such a beautiful cane... Oh, please, allow me-" Ironclaw and his apprentice watched in silence as Harima's katana suddenly slid out from its sheath. At that very moment, the General made his morbid announcement, barely heard on the Inn's fringe. But Harima, and Ironclaw for that matter, noticed a perceptible difference in the air. Upon hearing where it fell, Harima reached down then in one swift motion, swiped it up, and slid the katana back in - much to the server's amazement. The attendant backed away as Harima immediately stepped out the booth; Ironclaw told his apprentice to remain.
Ironclaw joined him in his march towards the door. He bowed his head and spoke.
"Winter's mortality, locked in frozen indifference, melts with Spring's rebirth."
Ironclaw understood his words and nodded, pacing outside and saddling his stallion before galloping to unseen pastures. Harima followed the Dwarf's stomping until he came within earshot of the General. He hung onto every fucking vowel.
"Atticus Lymond, either present yourself or be the reason your town is burnt to the ground."
Harima furrowed his brows at this. If he had his sight, maybe he'd run this prick through the gullet with his own sword. He began wading through the bustling, panic-stricken crowds while masquerading as a blind vagrant bound for the town hall. It soon amassed into a stampede as soldiers flanked the townspeople and brandished their steel with vehement grins. Upon hearing the rasp of a blade exiting its scabbard, he dashed for the town's hall.
As he encroached on the hall, hand on hilt, a sickly stench perforated his nostrils.
"Osharian Snowbell..." he murmured to himself, wondering who dared brave tending to the wounded amidst such carnage. Harima's senses were flooded and he became slightly drowsy - his head aching.
"Wake up!" he heard a disembodied yell. Perhaps the faye tending to the unconscious bestia had seen Harima approach them? Nevertheless, he made his presence known after taking a brisk walk towards them, and while keeping a respective distance he announced- "RIP THEM FUCKERS APART!" a sergeant-at-arms barked at his men with an awfully dry cadence. Harima restrained introducing himself just yet and readied himself by taking stance.
A soldier tramped his way towards them, rallying his comrades, and spattering obscenities as some cruel adrenaline torched their nerves. Harima, indifferent, let him get close. "Fucking vagrant filth!" he bellowed through gritted teeth. Glaring daggers, he reared his arm and went to deliver a hefty slap across Harima's face - which he caught with a swift slash of his katana. The soldier immediately dropped his steel and began clawing at his neck, terror swelling in wide eyes as he choked and gargled on bilious blood. He hacked up blood through wheezing, which then dribbled from his nose. This soldier slumped to the ground, desperately raking the dirt with clenched fists while fiercely convulsing. His mates watched in abject disillusion before pouncing on Harima with colourful vocabulary and ferocious, lashing strikes. Harima dispatched these three soldiers in quick succession before stalking down the sergeant-at-arms. He could hear his heartbeat rattle like some frog in a hot tin can. Harima clutched the habaki and stood a few feet away from the sergeant. He then sheathed his katana and turned his back on the man. The sergeant growled and lanced for him with a detestable grimace.
It was over before it had begun. The sergeant was laid on his back, dazed, confused, and bleeding profusely from his head. His last vestiges of consciousness had wondered: what happened? as he stared into oblivion. From the faye's perspective, if she had seen it at all, Harima had quickly side-stepped the man then suddenly swept the habaki across his forehead with tremendous force. Like a marionette doll whose strings had been cut, he sagged to the ground in an instant. Harima flicked the blood off his katana and quickly sheathed it into the habaki.
"Is she awake?" he asked, light-headed.
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MENTIONS:
Fred Colon
INTERACTIONS:
Dovinique
Danidify
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Last edited:
FireMaiden
Grade A Bitch
Bailey Hall & Ryan BrightwallLocation: Halamead Town Hall - Exterior
Interaction: Open -
Danidify
Dovinique
cybercrypt
Mentioned: N/A -
Fred Colon
The fires were spreading, the smell of smoke getting heavier and heavier by each passing second, the soldiers still making their rounds through most of the town's streets as the last of the townsfolk made their way to the town hall. But everyone was running out of time. The clashing of swords had dimmed near the outskirts of town where it started and only grew louder near the town hall, Baily and Ryan both knew what was coming. Just as Bailey was running out of arrows, they were running out of time. It didn't matter who joined them, it didn't matter their skill now, soon they would be overwhelmed. And anyone who was left outside of the town hall would be lost. "They need to hurry, we're running out of time!" Ryan muttered bitterly to himself, spitting off to the side to free his mouth of the taste of blood. "Most everyone is inside right?"
"Maybe, but you're the one who decided we should stop and help, so that's what we're doing." Even if that helping was just making sure the soldiers didn't get past them for now. Bailey was down to 17 of her 30 useable arrows, and soon she'd have to switch to her blade and the small collection of runes on her belt. While not an ideal situation, Ryan was there to back her up. Their brief moment of peace was very violently, and very suddenly interrupted. An arrow whizzed by Ryan's head, embedding in the large gate behind them. On instinct, he made an attempt to move, calling out that the enemy had archers. As much as the farmers could surprisingly handle themselves with the soldiers, an archer would easily take them out.
Bailey felt one whip through her hair as she scrambled to take cover, bringing two fingers up to her lips, she let out a shrill whistle that wavered three times. Dropping her hand, to anyone who may have been watching either of them, it was clear they were waiting for a response. A few seconds passed before a loud, and some would say rather intimidating howl, filled the air. Once again, her hand raised, another whistle leaving her lips but this time a completely different tune. Like the whistle itself was making a circle. Like before just a few seconds after that tune left her lips, a howl came in response. But Bailey and Ryan had no time to wait and see if Fenrir would be successful, they could hear more guards shouting.
Hoping up from behind cover, another arrow notched, Bailey loosed it into the eye of one of the polearms. He crumpled to the ground with a large thud, a metal clang from his arm signaling his demise as Ryan was challenged by the other soldiers. Bailey notched another arrow as quickly as she could, looking for a weak point or waiting for an opening when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she loosed her arrow but missed the man charging at her, Bailey and him landing on the ground hard. She gasped for air, her bow knocked free from her hand as she watched under him to try and regain her breath. The soldier, thanks to her struggling, was having a hard time landing a direct hit, attempting to knock her out. Ryan was occupied by who of his companions and couldn't help.
But Bailey had managed to regain herself, one arm raised to block him while still trying to dodge his attacks the best she could, the other had managed to find her belt. The back of her hand getting cut by his platemail but that was an honorable offense for now. She managed to grab one of her throwing knives and pull her arm free and up, driving the blade into his throat. Immediately he fell back a little, giving Bailey enough to push him off and free herself, ready to scramble for her bow.
-----
They had been constructed to leave him just outside of town. Understandable of course given his appearance, it would scare everyone. Fenrir didn't like having to leave Bailey alone, it went against everyone he knew, everything was taught. Loyalty was very important ya know. Humans would never truly understand that, but Fenrir did. He was pouting at the little camp she set up for him when he heard the whistle. He had smelt the smoke of course, and would have come earlier, but he always had to wait until he was called. That's how it worked, and he knew what that whistle meant. Archer, backline. He stood, raising his muzzle to the air to let out a howl in response just before his paws dig into the earth and he took off. He was very excited to help Bailey, because when he did, she always gave him a little treat and he knew she had something in her satchel she could give him. Or maybe steal from Ryan. But for right now his focus was an archer.
To any outsider, it may seem like an impossible task asking a giant wolf to find an archer in a sea of baddies, but given he could smell Bailey and where she was in the town, Fenrir could easily find where the archer was. And just in time too, he was taking aim at a dwarf in his sights. Bailey wouldn't be happy if someone got hurt because Fenrir was too slow. Without hesitation, the giant wolf pounced, his teeth tearing into the archer's throat, the man letting out a struggled cry before going silent as Fenrir shook his body around like a helpless ragdoll and threw him into a nearby wall. Blood covered his muzzle now, the wolf licking his lips before turning his sights on the group. Jumping down from the perch the archer was using, he eyed them, deciding whether they were friend or foe...the wolf decided on the former. None of them smelled like the soldiers.
The elf among them may recognize Fenrir as an elven mount, a dire wolf was not native to the human territories, and they certainly had a very unique sound. At least not anymore. And the others wouldn't take long to realize he wasn't going to attack them, Fenrir circling them but keeping an eye out for anyone else, not on them. He was ready to attack any soldiers who may cause harm, an move with the group when they were ready to do so. Though should that not be soon, he would leave them behind to find Bailey.
Fred Colon
It was so much easier to blame it on Them.
Most of the town was on fire, now. Merin smashed a shield into the soldier in front of him, shattering his sloppy guard and allowing Merin to bring Gudrid down on the man’s shoulder, it bit deep, shattering his collarbone and embedding itself in the flesh beneath. Merin yanked it out and whirled around, just barely in time to keep another sword from slicing through the point his armor stopped at his neck. The blow knocked Gudrid from Merin’s hands, but Merin smashed a heavy booted foot down on his attackers foot, forcing his opponent to flinch in pain, before grabbing the front of the man’s armor and yanking him down so Merin could bludgeon him with a metal plated knee.
He staggered to the side, but managed to scoop up Gudrid. A wide cut oozed blood over Merin’s left eye, and he was relatively certain one of his fingers was broken. No pain yet, not with all this adrenaline coursing through his veins, but it was stiff, and he was sure there would be pain later.
Most of the town was on fire, and the guards were getting thicker on the ground. Some others had been making problems, by the Town hall he thought, which meant he wasn’t totally overwhelmed, but Merin was running out of steam.
A small platoon of men lay dead around the dwarf. Six men in total, more that he had wounded and let flee.
He glanced up as he heard bow strings draw taut.
“Damn.” Merin grunted, dazed and tired. He brought his shield up as quickly as he could, but he was surrounded, five archers, on all sides of him. His armor was tough, but he didn’t like the odds of taking five arrows like this.
But a moment later, a huge, grey wolf launched itself onto one of the archers. For a second Merin felt a pang of fear and surprise. The Wargs had come back for revenge! Until he realized it wasn’t a Warg, but some sort of War Wolf. Not quite as big as a Warg, but just as vicious looking.
One of the Archers went down under the mass of fur and tooth. Two of the archers looked up, surprised, and didn’t loose their arrows. One fired, but the shot went wide, while the last ones arrow aimed true, but shattered on Merin’s shield.
“Thankee, Beast!” Merin shouted, “I think it’s time I headed for the Town Center! I’ll be going this way!’
Merin charged down an alley. It wasn’t quite the way to the town center, but the actual road was clogged with soldiers now. Merin was good, but not quite that good, to cut a path through there all on his own.
But the town was on fire. He could use that, perhaps, to his advantage.
Merin stopped in an alley way, behind a house that was already crackling with flame. He stopped, and took a small rag out of his waist pouch, and tied it around his nose.
Merin’s armor was tough. It was even fire proof. The metal itself, that is. But it wasn’t going to prevent him from roasting alive in it, leaving a charred corpse inside pristine armor, and it wasn’t going to stop him from asphyxiating in the smoke. He would need to do this quickly.
Merin took a second to catch his bearings. A few soldiers were pointing in his direction, but they knew enough, now, to realize that coming at him one by one wasn’t going to work. He made his best guess as to where the Town Center was, and kicked the door to the burning building down.
Immediatly Merin felt like this was one of the worst mistakes of his life. He was boiling alive in his heavy armor. But there was nothing else to do but keep going. He stomped through the house, putting Gudrid back on his waist and drawing Karl, his war hammer, from his back. When he made it to the other side of the house, he smashed Karl through a window and leapt through it. The next house was on fire, too. Deadly, but it also meant he wouldn’t have to fight through another group of soldiers. He hefted his hammer and smashed it into the next wall. There were no doors or windows here, but he could make one in this fire weakened building. He just hoped it wasn’t so far gone that this would collapse it.
But a few swings later he had a hole big enough for him to clamber through. He charged through the house, head low and burst through the door on the other side, into a third alleyway. The house in front of him now was burning too. Everything, everything was burning. Merin cursed the monster that had ordered this.
This was the last building that was between him and the town square. Hopefully.
There was a door here, fortunately, though smoke poured out of it in black streams. Merin opened it anyone and pushed himself inside.
He made it to the other end quickly, and though the house was burning, and his own armor was beginning to sear his skin, he stopped. Outside the window the courtyard was filled with soldiers.
But he could also see the defenders at the townhall fighting viciously, a number of them that certainly didn’t look like simple farming folk, at least not judging by how well they wielded their chosen weapon. Perhaps the villagers would be safe. He just needed to get there. Add his strength to theirs.
Merin knew he was reaching his limit. He was burned, bruised and cut. Armor or no, he’d soon collapse from exhaustion or blood loss or heat stroke. He’d fight until he dropped, but he’d like to fight where someone might be kind enough to pull him somewhere safe when he inevitably went down.
The house creaked and crackled all around him. Somewhere above he heard something give way. This house wouldn’t stay up much longer.
“Cignir guide my steps. If I’m of any use to you yet, get me through this. I’ve more to give you and the world.” Merin breathed not quite a prayer before he launched himself through the window, wood splintering, glass exploding into the square, swinging his hammer like a mad dwarf.
Merin almost laughed.
He didn’t like killing. Not at all. But the expression on the soldiers faces when he came barreling out of the window was priceless. He was sure he looked beat to hell, his armor spattered in blood dried by fire and he could smell hair burning, so his beard was likely aflame, and what fool would run through a burning building like that? He must have looked insane. He wasn’t sure he wasn’t! The Soldiers were dumb founded. And, better, slow to react.
Merin swung his heavy hammer at a man's legs and the soldier went down in a heap, a strangled scream telling Merin that the man had broken something that ought not to have been broken. Merin lowered his shoulder and smashed into the man that was standing ahead of the first, Merin’s momentum knocking him down before the dwarf trampled him.
The soldiers still hadn’t recovered from the sight of such a mad specter, so Merin brought his hammer down on the head of a man who was turning towards him, sword drawn, crushing half of his skull before Merin’s wild charge carried him past.
Merin realized he was roaring, a wild, frantic roar that made his throat raw. Or perhaps that had just been the smoke. He swung his hammer once, twice, thrice, again, all the while never stopping his forward momentum. Swords clanged against his dwarven armor, and he swore he felt one slide between the weak point where his upper plate met his leggings, the sword only being turned away by Merin’s waist bone.
But it didn’t slow him down. A moment later he realized he was swinging his hammer at people no longer wearing the red and gold of the soldiers and stumbled over himself to stop his swing, collapsing in a big, metal heap in front of the defenders.
“Sorry about that.” Merin said, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. He hefted Karl in shaking hands. His vision was getting dim. But he’d stand and fight as long as he was able. He didn’t bow to bullies.
“I’m here to lend a hand. Two, if you’ll have them.”
He staggered to the side, but managed to scoop up Gudrid. A wide cut oozed blood over Merin’s left eye, and he was relatively certain one of his fingers was broken. No pain yet, not with all this adrenaline coursing through his veins, but it was stiff, and he was sure there would be pain later.
Most of the town was on fire, and the guards were getting thicker on the ground. Some others had been making problems, by the Town hall he thought, which meant he wasn’t totally overwhelmed, but Merin was running out of steam.
A small platoon of men lay dead around the dwarf. Six men in total, more that he had wounded and let flee.
He glanced up as he heard bow strings draw taut.
“Damn.” Merin grunted, dazed and tired. He brought his shield up as quickly as he could, but he was surrounded, five archers, on all sides of him. His armor was tough, but he didn’t like the odds of taking five arrows like this.
But a moment later, a huge, grey wolf launched itself onto one of the archers. For a second Merin felt a pang of fear and surprise. The Wargs had come back for revenge! Until he realized it wasn’t a Warg, but some sort of War Wolf. Not quite as big as a Warg, but just as vicious looking.
One of the Archers went down under the mass of fur and tooth. Two of the archers looked up, surprised, and didn’t loose their arrows. One fired, but the shot went wide, while the last ones arrow aimed true, but shattered on Merin’s shield.
“Thankee, Beast!” Merin shouted, “I think it’s time I headed for the Town Center! I’ll be going this way!’
Merin charged down an alley. It wasn’t quite the way to the town center, but the actual road was clogged with soldiers now. Merin was good, but not quite that good, to cut a path through there all on his own.
But the town was on fire. He could use that, perhaps, to his advantage.
Merin stopped in an alley way, behind a house that was already crackling with flame. He stopped, and took a small rag out of his waist pouch, and tied it around his nose.
Merin’s armor was tough. It was even fire proof. The metal itself, that is. But it wasn’t going to prevent him from roasting alive in it, leaving a charred corpse inside pristine armor, and it wasn’t going to stop him from asphyxiating in the smoke. He would need to do this quickly.
Merin took a second to catch his bearings. A few soldiers were pointing in his direction, but they knew enough, now, to realize that coming at him one by one wasn’t going to work. He made his best guess as to where the Town Center was, and kicked the door to the burning building down.
Immediatly Merin felt like this was one of the worst mistakes of his life. He was boiling alive in his heavy armor. But there was nothing else to do but keep going. He stomped through the house, putting Gudrid back on his waist and drawing Karl, his war hammer, from his back. When he made it to the other side of the house, he smashed Karl through a window and leapt through it. The next house was on fire, too. Deadly, but it also meant he wouldn’t have to fight through another group of soldiers. He hefted his hammer and smashed it into the next wall. There were no doors or windows here, but he could make one in this fire weakened building. He just hoped it wasn’t so far gone that this would collapse it.
But a few swings later he had a hole big enough for him to clamber through. He charged through the house, head low and burst through the door on the other side, into a third alleyway. The house in front of him now was burning too. Everything, everything was burning. Merin cursed the monster that had ordered this.
This was the last building that was between him and the town square. Hopefully.
There was a door here, fortunately, though smoke poured out of it in black streams. Merin opened it anyone and pushed himself inside.
He made it to the other end quickly, and though the house was burning, and his own armor was beginning to sear his skin, he stopped. Outside the window the courtyard was filled with soldiers.
But he could also see the defenders at the townhall fighting viciously, a number of them that certainly didn’t look like simple farming folk, at least not judging by how well they wielded their chosen weapon. Perhaps the villagers would be safe. He just needed to get there. Add his strength to theirs.
Merin knew he was reaching his limit. He was burned, bruised and cut. Armor or no, he’d soon collapse from exhaustion or blood loss or heat stroke. He’d fight until he dropped, but he’d like to fight where someone might be kind enough to pull him somewhere safe when he inevitably went down.
The house creaked and crackled all around him. Somewhere above he heard something give way. This house wouldn’t stay up much longer.
“Cignir guide my steps. If I’m of any use to you yet, get me through this. I’ve more to give you and the world.” Merin breathed not quite a prayer before he launched himself through the window, wood splintering, glass exploding into the square, swinging his hammer like a mad dwarf.
Merin almost laughed.
He didn’t like killing. Not at all. But the expression on the soldiers faces when he came barreling out of the window was priceless. He was sure he looked beat to hell, his armor spattered in blood dried by fire and he could smell hair burning, so his beard was likely aflame, and what fool would run through a burning building like that? He must have looked insane. He wasn’t sure he wasn’t! The Soldiers were dumb founded. And, better, slow to react.
Merin swung his heavy hammer at a man's legs and the soldier went down in a heap, a strangled scream telling Merin that the man had broken something that ought not to have been broken. Merin lowered his shoulder and smashed into the man that was standing ahead of the first, Merin’s momentum knocking him down before the dwarf trampled him.
The soldiers still hadn’t recovered from the sight of such a mad specter, so Merin brought his hammer down on the head of a man who was turning towards him, sword drawn, crushing half of his skull before Merin’s wild charge carried him past.
Merin realized he was roaring, a wild, frantic roar that made his throat raw. Or perhaps that had just been the smoke. He swung his hammer once, twice, thrice, again, all the while never stopping his forward momentum. Swords clanged against his dwarven armor, and he swore he felt one slide between the weak point where his upper plate met his leggings, the sword only being turned away by Merin’s waist bone.
But it didn’t slow him down. A moment later he realized he was swinging his hammer at people no longer wearing the red and gold of the soldiers and stumbled over himself to stop his swing, collapsing in a big, metal heap in front of the defenders.
“Sorry about that.” Merin said, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. He hefted Karl in shaking hands. His vision was getting dim. But he’d stand and fight as long as he was able. He didn’t bow to bullies.
“I’m here to lend a hand. Two, if you’ll have them.”
Hanarei
Rawr-ness
Re'Wersu
Location: Town Hall Outskirts
The smell of flames and the various plants left a rather foul stench in her nose rather strong to the point of making her feel wildly woozy. Not the most pleasant feelings to have while a battle was raging around her. Fumbling to hold her sack and sword while shackled was a real chore the woman having to more so duck and weave her way through lacking much else she could do without risking stumbling given how close she had been to falling over with the drop kick she had given earlier. The assistant jailer was moving not far beside her swatting away a sword clearly lacking much experience himself in fighting though doing his best to help escort her despite her not asking for such. All about doing his duty not a bad trait.
The two approached the two hall a sudden cry reaching Re'Wersu's ears. Her head turned seeing the young jailer's assistant on the ground shot clear through the leg another arrow likely from earlier she didn't notice in his shoulder at the very least caught up in his armor though clearly piecing his flesh. She growled wandering back looking at him as he laid upon the ground. trying his best to move though with the arrow clearly penetrating through his leg not far from his ankle it was clear he couldn't walk. The young shaman glancing at him as if in thought clearly lacking a free hand.
"It's fine.. uh... go on without me... just if you find the jailer tell him that..." He spoke out clearly in pain and fearful though trying his best to play the tough boy act. She glanced back and forth at her arms as if to remind her of the fact she was shackled before lightly nudging him with her leg as if to replicate hitting him with her arm.
"Quite you, no giving me names and all that schmaltzy last word crap. Just... errr.. climb on... i guess. We aren't far anyways." She spoke awkwardly bending down to a knee lowering her sword to wedge it on the ground to help keep her up and use it as a support a little limited on how she could do it given the lack of mobility of her hands. She saw him hesitate glancing over her shoulder only briefly before he moved, forcing himself to move grunting back pain before climbing onto her back holding onto her the arrow in his shoulder clearly hurting though seeming to have enough strength still grip on. She stumbled a bit using her sword as a anchor point to push herself up wobbling a bit to get to her feet. She put her blade back on her shoulder more so leaning it on his one arm the one side being sharp at the very least making it so she didn't have to worry about accidentally cutting him.
Re'Wersu ran forward making her way to the town hall the man gripping on still awkwardly holding onto her bag and sword finding her way to the town hall her eyes spying a woman seemingly alone making her way forward her path seeming to intersect close to hers. She moved forward pushing ahead sprinting more carrying the downed soldier as he held on quite weak. Her nose smelled a rather strangely familiar scent mixed with the rather unpleasant ones though she brushed it aside for now. There was far too much chaos to bother getting caught up with smells right now until she got to safety.
"Hey... hey you! Yeah you old lady!" She called out without the slightest bit of tact in her words. The woman did seem rather well geared as far as she could tell though she didn't seem to be fighting directly. It matter little to her either way it was still someone she saw and she figured maybe she could pester the old lady to help her shackled self a little bit and help her get inside with the head jailer no where to be seen yet to help free her up. Not to mention she half thought she might just be lost and confused.
"We gotta get inside. Need to find this guy a medicine man or someone who can treat him... not to mention to get our own asses safe." She spoke up nudging her head forward as if she was somehow helping her out despite clearly being in a far worst position off then Elias.
Mentioned: Elias
DrawingMoo
Insync
petrichor and city lights
Nero the Moon Fairy
•Interactions: None/Open
•Mentions: None
•Interactions: None/Open
•Mentions: None
==
The journey to Halamead was rougher than he had expected. Travelling with people Nero barely knew didn't help make it easier. but he tried to appreciate the little company that he had. The trip wasn't at all for leisure; as a mercenary, there wasn't time for any sightseeing or the sort if you wanted food on the table. Of course, depending on the missions he had completed, he would sometimes acquire a large reward for all of the trouble the tasks usually carried with them. He wasn't too happy with all the sharing but he knew going solo in the long run would cause more harm than good. In the time of being a rogue in Bleakshear, he got acquainted enough with some of the local mercenaries that when the missions on the notice board for their line of work lessened, they allowed him to partake in the few that remained. So it was with Halamead.
He had gotten up early and grabbed all of his things, leaving nothing in his room at the mercenary lodging that Bleakshear provided. Who knows whether he'd be able to come back here since the distance between the two towns was a huge one. It took them at least three travel days to get to the city, the boss of Nero's group paid for a week's stay, at a place in Halamead called the Iron Pig. It wasn't fancy or anything, but the inn provided a much better room than the one that he had previously stayed in for so long. Nero grumbled. I guess I'll enjoy this while it lasts.
==
For the next few days, the group tried to get Nero involved and maybe open up to them. However, their attempts proved useless as Nero not only struggled to keep up his fake human identity but that he wanted to keep himself from others. Fearing that he might lead them to a horrible situation. He still had nightmares about the incident years ago, they were very vivid as if he was reliving the terrifying night when the hunters came to capture all of his fellow Faye.
The group's mission was to get someone, specifically stated in the description to still be alive, who had debt in Bleakshear and fled to Halamead. At least that's what's been told to him, he didn't know the details but he was sure they took him to be a part of the capture since they noticed his abilities.
The date to set out their plan was interrupted when the general came. Nero had been in his room, practicing his knife skills when he heard the sounds of metal clanging and horse hooves drown the city's usually joyful atmosphere. Nero looked out the window and saw many soldiers. One grim-looking man stood out in particular. His voice boomed but Nero could barely understand what he was saying. "Citizens--Halamead. Looking--mage--who resist or---hide his presence will be dealt with---"
Nero could tell he was the man was trouble already and started packing his stuff, while still listening to the unpleasant announcement. "Atticus Lymond--town is burnt--" He caught that word. Burnt. Fire, the very thing that demolished his community. The human hunters back then torched everything, making it all burn to the ground. He sped up and hurried downstairs. He looked around for his fellow mercenaries. They were gone. Nero gritted his teeth. What a bunch of cowards. He felt a bit hurt that they had left him, it was a good thing he didn't open up his heart to them. Surely the feeling would've been worse if he had.
As he left the inn building, the sounds of screaming and the smell of smoke had appeared right before him. He looked around and saw a family running towards a place. He didn't know what it was but as he looked onwards, he saw many people, ordinary and innocent citizens caught up in the wicked mess that the man he had seen earlier undeniably initiated. He helped as many people as he can, using his own supplies, to aid them as much as he can. "What are you doing lad? Get to the town hall fast!" he heard someone shout at him. He wanted to keep on helping others, but there were just too many of them for him to take on alone. Nero was upset that he couldn't do more for all of those poor prople nevertheless he rushed and went inside the town hall. What he didn't know was that his fate was about to change because of his encounters there.
The journey to Halamead was rougher than he had expected. Travelling with people Nero barely knew didn't help make it easier. but he tried to appreciate the little company that he had. The trip wasn't at all for leisure; as a mercenary, there wasn't time for any sightseeing or the sort if you wanted food on the table. Of course, depending on the missions he had completed, he would sometimes acquire a large reward for all of the trouble the tasks usually carried with them. He wasn't too happy with all the sharing but he knew going solo in the long run would cause more harm than good. In the time of being a rogue in Bleakshear, he got acquainted enough with some of the local mercenaries that when the missions on the notice board for their line of work lessened, they allowed him to partake in the few that remained. So it was with Halamead.
He had gotten up early and grabbed all of his things, leaving nothing in his room at the mercenary lodging that Bleakshear provided. Who knows whether he'd be able to come back here since the distance between the two towns was a huge one. It took them at least three travel days to get to the city, the boss of Nero's group paid for a week's stay, at a place in Halamead called the Iron Pig. It wasn't fancy or anything, but the inn provided a much better room than the one that he had previously stayed in for so long. Nero grumbled. I guess I'll enjoy this while it lasts.
==
For the next few days, the group tried to get Nero involved and maybe open up to them. However, their attempts proved useless as Nero not only struggled to keep up his fake human identity but that he wanted to keep himself from others. Fearing that he might lead them to a horrible situation. He still had nightmares about the incident years ago, they were very vivid as if he was reliving the terrifying night when the hunters came to capture all of his fellow Faye.
The group's mission was to get someone, specifically stated in the description to still be alive, who had debt in Bleakshear and fled to Halamead. At least that's what's been told to him, he didn't know the details but he was sure they took him to be a part of the capture since they noticed his abilities.
The date to set out their plan was interrupted when the general came. Nero had been in his room, practicing his knife skills when he heard the sounds of metal clanging and horse hooves drown the city's usually joyful atmosphere. Nero looked out the window and saw many soldiers. One grim-looking man stood out in particular. His voice boomed but Nero could barely understand what he was saying. "Citizens--Halamead. Looking--mage--who resist or---hide his presence will be dealt with---"
Nero could tell he was the man was trouble already and started packing his stuff, while still listening to the unpleasant announcement. "Atticus Lymond--town is burnt--" He caught that word. Burnt. Fire, the very thing that demolished his community. The human hunters back then torched everything, making it all burn to the ground. He sped up and hurried downstairs. He looked around for his fellow mercenaries. They were gone. Nero gritted his teeth. What a bunch of cowards. He felt a bit hurt that they had left him, it was a good thing he didn't open up his heart to them. Surely the feeling would've been worse if he had.
As he left the inn building, the sounds of screaming and the smell of smoke had appeared right before him. He looked around and saw a family running towards a place. He didn't know what it was but as he looked onwards, he saw many people, ordinary and innocent citizens caught up in the wicked mess that the man he had seen earlier undeniably initiated. He helped as many people as he can, using his own supplies, to aid them as much as he can. "What are you doing lad? Get to the town hall fast!" he heard someone shout at him. He wanted to keep on helping others, but there were just too many of them for him to take on alone. Nero was upset that he couldn't do more for all of those poor prople nevertheless he rushed and went inside the town hall. What he didn't know was that his fate was about to change because of his encounters there.
Dovinique
a fishy little sushi
CHARACTER SHEET
LOCATION Town Hall
INTERACTION
Danidify
cybercrypt
MENTION None
It was dark and cold, an absolute silence surrounded the little bull. It felt like she was lost in the middle of the night sky, but there she found peace until... a strong smell ravaging her nose with noises echoed faintly in her ears. Slowly, Eu'Minba opened her red eyes, blurry images welcomed her as she consciousness coming back to her. In front of her, an unfamiliar green-haired girl was telling her to wake up. Her body and head felt heavy due to the aftereffect of the elixir. Even though she has regained half of her consciousness, she couldn't move her body freely yet. Usually, it would take around 15 - 20 minutes until the aftereffects calmed down, but for her, it might stay for around 30 minutes or so.
While other parts of her body felt numb, a stabbing pain occupied her left cheek, "Aw..." a little moan came out as she rubbed the source of the pain. Maybe she was hit by something when she was unconscious, she thought. While trying to gain her full senses, her eyes weakly looked around her. Seemed like she was brought to the townhall safely by someone... maybe by the girl who was in front of her. Eu'Minba stared at her briefly before finding another figure not far from them... or maybe by him. Whoever it was, they had greatly saved her poor life. "Thanks..." her voice was low, drowned in the chaos and noises around her.
Still in her weak condition, her tiny hands stretched out to her side as if she was looking for something. First, her right hand found a familiar leather bag with several stitches on its bottom, sewn by her father to patch some holes. Eu'Minba pulled the bag closer, hugging it dearly to ease her anxiety. After experiencing the first near-death situation, the bestia appreciated her life more. She thought she had always been ready for death, but turned out it was far more complicated. She no longer going tantrum just because her precious cart wasn't here. Eu'Minba knew it was left behind somewhere out there, among the bloody mess. Maybe after everything calmed down, hopefully, she could go looking for its remains.
Eu'Minba then forced her body to sit down so she could have a better view of her surrounding. Even the town hall couldn't have its peace. Many were injured and dying, soldiers' corpse could be found just inches away. There was wave of soldiers ready to pummel the town hall anytime soon and Eu'Minba doubted the villagers could win against them. There might be warriors among them, but they were still outnumbered. Not to mention if they were exhausted from continuous fighting unless... they are buffed. The bestia quickly rummaged her bag, taking out several vials filled with liquid in different bright colors. She picked two yellows and three reds before pushing it to the green-haired girl, "Most of my potions are in the cart, but these ones should be useful," she shifted her eyes to the tall man, "Yellow will boost your speed, while red will boost your stamina for 20 minutes. Use it when you think you need it. There will be drawbacks after that, yet I think it's enough. Seeing how well-trained your body is, chances are you will drive the soldiers away before the drawbacks take over your body."
After handing the potions, Eu'Minba threw her body back to the floor. She needed more time before she could move around, even talking that much already drained her stamina away,
Last edited:
Kylesar1
This is my loudest bork
They had arrows. Now it was getting fun. Nothing like a mid-range sniper fight, but she needed to get to higher ground because that's where the enemy archers were. Some were shooting through the windows of various buildings. "They're definitely gonna try to set fire to this Town Hall," Melora said to herself. Everyone was bunched up in a single building. They were 1 Siege Engine or 1 mortar or 1 fire away from devastating everyone in the building. Logically speaking, it was smart to do it if their goal was to kill everyone in the town.
They needed to take out enemy archers as they were the biggest threat to their already paltry and ragtag defense. She took out 2 vials and poured a green liquid into the black powder that made up her Smoke Bombs. Shaking it up and Activating Fire, she tossed it into the soldiers. Immediately, they started choking on the toxic gas that Melora just threw on them. She then started returning fire to Enemy archers
Out of nowhere, a dwarven man barreled through like a cannonball, flattening soldiers left and right. However, Melora had to question his mental state because he kept on swinging even after making it through the soldiers. In fact, his weapon almost disintegrated her torso because if gods knew that even though a hammer couldn't penetrate her light armor, her torso could be blasted away from her body as the dwarf radiated physical strength. When the dwarf man apologized and offered his help though, she smiled and bit off what was gonna be a sharp reprimand for almost killing her. "I'm sure no one would decline help from a cannonball of a warrior. Melora Adonis, Scout Archer." She passed him a vial. "Drink. If you charged through that gas, you've been poisoned."
DrawingMoo
A new artist has joined the game
Elias Caern, Entering Town Hall
Hanarei
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Hanarei
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A nearly steam-hot breath exhales through the slits of Elias's helm as she rounds to the call of "old lady". A brow lifts, some soot-covered expression along the lines of Rude. Still, she sheathes the arming sword and jogs over to the chained girl with a huff. It's certainly the shackles she notices first, and the jailer second in his sorry state. Her attention is pulled away for a few moments to herd some panicking locals up towards the great doors of the town hall, quick to bark orders and coordinate a few of the less-injured to herd those worse off. Then, it's back to this girl and her captor and she asks gruffly, "I take it he can't walk?" Poor guy, she's a little impressed this girl was able to carry him from wherever they were before. "I'll take him in, you look like you've sprinted the continent." If Re'Wersu allows, Elijah will reach over and shoulder the guard fireman-style, and start marching towards the town hall without much waiting for the lass.
"If you can walk, keep up." She casts a glance back to him, then Re'Wersu, assessing for injuries with a dour look, then a quick scan of the battlefield- cut short by an arrow thudding into the ground at her feet and she moves quickly. There's no place to catch a moment to treat them out here, and looking up to the town hall, there likely won't be in there either. It doesn't look like a very siegeworthy building, and that realization doesn't fill the woman with comfort. Another arrow whistles and Elias quickly ducks, feeling the thud as it scrapes the top of her helmet and she calls back to Re'Wersu. "Come on! We'll get to cover and sprint across from there. This square is just a pit for archers." Scanning again, Elias darts- more slowly than before with an irritated grunt at the deadweight guard- towards the eaves of a building and then to an overturned cart, expecting the girl to follow. It sears her lungs and something off to her left bursts outward in a rush of splinters that gash at her legs and pepper her light armor with splinters but she sticks closer to what fires there are, skirting towards the town hall and relying on the smoke and glare of the heat to provide them some cover from opportunist archers. The tactic is costly and her eyes burn and her lungs scream to cough but if she starts, she won't be able to stop. Even with her aversion to helping out the apparent convict, Elias makes sure Re'Wersu doesn't fall behind, and makes her way up the steps to the town hall at last. At the first second to let the guard down somewhere in cover of the great building, she does so, and promptly doubles over coughing out the smoke. Well that sucked. She looks over to Re'Wersu. "How are you doing?"
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FireMaiden
Grade A Bitch
Halamead Town Hall
Year: 1032
Date: 17th of Embla
It was clear that the people of Halamead were in no way prepared for an attack like this. The soldiers were having what seemed like a little too much fun terrorizing the civilians, rounding them up and forcing them all in one direction. To the town hall. It was like herding cattle. Anyone who didn't run were left trapped in burning buildings or toyed with before being killed. It was like a game to these soldiers, the one's they didn't kill would never be able to see the royal colors the same. Those fighting at the town hall gate, or those who had made it inside, they knew time was short. The soldiers were running out of people to terrorize and buildings to set ablaze, the mass was closing in on the main building of Halamead. From somewhere inside the gate, a large bell had begun to ring, signaling that they were closing the doors. Anyone left outside would be stuck if they didn't make it in within the next few minutes. Year: 1032
Date: 17th of Embla
Those fighting outside the gates would usher the remaining few civilians inside, the large wolf once barred from the town now a welcome sight as it mowed down soldiers in its path. It was a whirlwind of chaos as arrows rained down on those trying to shut the gates, civilians, and makeshift warriors alike running into the safety of the large stone building. And all too soon, the warriors, rogues, and mages dragged into the battle whether they wanted to be or not was met with the civilians of Halamead.
The town hall was a large three-room building, the largest of which held the most people. Broken, huddled together, terrified, the scent of blood heavy on the air. It was more than obvious not a single person had gotten away from those soldiers unharmed. Those who could still move around, even if they had no knowledge of what to do, was doing their best to help the others who couldn't. Anyone with a weapon had gathered off to the left, in feign hopes of coming up with a plan of how to either take back their town or protect the people long enough to escape. It was the only thing they could hope to do.
From outside, they'd be able to hear the soldiers taunts and jeers, the insults of the people and the town. The empty promises of safety if Atticus was just turned over. Or maybe they were true, but the town was still burning. The people were still trapped inside, and they didn't have many options. At the end of the largest room, opposite of the now barricaded doors, was a man with salt and pepper hair, and a tired face. Concern painted on his features as he pinched his brow. Around him was a small crowd of people, begging him for ideas, pleading with him for what to do. He was their mayor after all. If he didn't have the answers nobody would.
But one things was very clear to all of them. They were on borrowed time.
Fred Colon
It was so much easier to blame it on Them.
Merin was thankful that the woman he'd almost brained with his hammer was so quick to forgive him. He supposed apparently poisoning him made it even, and he accepted the potion thankfully and downed it.
Merin immediately began to feel better. His people were usually more resistant to poisons than others, but they weren't immune, and as soon as he downed the potion the darkness in his vision immediately began to clear. He was still in pain. His finger was definitely broken, he was bleeding from where glancing blades had made it into weak points of his armor, and he had burns everywhere. But there was no time to rest.
"Thank you for that. My name is Merin Twostone." Merin said, giving a stiff, pained bow. He looked back at the soldiers, who seemed to have stopped trying to attack the Town Hall. As if they were waiting for something. "That's... ominous." Merin grunted. "Perhaps we should head inside. See if there isn't someone rallying the troops. And if there isn't, try to rally them ourselves."
Merin dropped Karl's head to the ground and used it as a sort of makeshift walking stick and headed inside. He smiled at the Archer as he passed. She looked skilled. He hadn't seen her in action, he had been a bit too preoccupied. But there were a number of soldiers down, with arrows in them.
Inside Merin found a fair number of folks. He was relieved to spot Werla and her friends among them.
"Merin!" Werla said, standing up from where she was tending to one of the boys that had been with her who was a wake and aware, but seemed to have been cut badly across his face. "I knew you wouldn't die!"
"That makes one of us." Merin grinned. He wanted to laugh, but his tired body couldn't quite muster one. "It was pretty touch and go there."
"What... what are we going to do?" She was putting on a tough face, but Merin could see how brittle it was.
"Don't worry. Things are going to be fine. You'll see. I need to go see what the plan is. We are going to do something, but you should tend to Jakob. He looks like he needs you." Merin tried to straighten, to look like he was heartier than he was, and strode past Werla without using Karl as a cane. Werla nodded, frowning, before heading back to her wounded friend. As soon as she was no longer looking, he leaned on Karl again. Merin noticed with a pang of regret and guilt that the other boy who had been fighting with Jakob earlier wasn't there. He hoped he was just somewhere out of sight, but the expression Werla had been wearing suggested otherwise.
Merin made his way towards the man with salt and pepper hair, who, from what the gaggle of terrified villagers seemed to be saying, was the mayor.
Merin shoved his way into the throng as politely as he could, but unrelentingly. He was too hurt to use much tact. When they wouldn't move, he pushed people out of the way simply by walking into them until they stopped being an obstacle. When he stood in front of the mayor, Merin gave an informal salute.
"Merin Twostone. Veteran of three Odelun Ranger Campaigns. Reporting for duty. If you've a plan, speak it and I will do my best to enact it. If not, I recommend turning over the reigns to me or one of the others here with combat experience. We're penned like rats. Something needs to be done. Something will be done even if I've got to do it myself." He tried to make himself look commanding, but wasn't sure if his singed beard, obvious wounds, burns and bloodstained armor made him seem more or less imposing. Like a grizzled warrior or someone who was half dead on his feet. He knew which one he felt like, but hoped they'd see him as the other.
Interactions:
Kylesar1
Merin immediately began to feel better. His people were usually more resistant to poisons than others, but they weren't immune, and as soon as he downed the potion the darkness in his vision immediately began to clear. He was still in pain. His finger was definitely broken, he was bleeding from where glancing blades had made it into weak points of his armor, and he had burns everywhere. But there was no time to rest.
"Thank you for that. My name is Merin Twostone." Merin said, giving a stiff, pained bow. He looked back at the soldiers, who seemed to have stopped trying to attack the Town Hall. As if they were waiting for something. "That's... ominous." Merin grunted. "Perhaps we should head inside. See if there isn't someone rallying the troops. And if there isn't, try to rally them ourselves."
Merin dropped Karl's head to the ground and used it as a sort of makeshift walking stick and headed inside. He smiled at the Archer as he passed. She looked skilled. He hadn't seen her in action, he had been a bit too preoccupied. But there were a number of soldiers down, with arrows in them.
Inside Merin found a fair number of folks. He was relieved to spot Werla and her friends among them.
"Merin!" Werla said, standing up from where she was tending to one of the boys that had been with her who was a wake and aware, but seemed to have been cut badly across his face. "I knew you wouldn't die!"
"That makes one of us." Merin grinned. He wanted to laugh, but his tired body couldn't quite muster one. "It was pretty touch and go there."
"What... what are we going to do?" She was putting on a tough face, but Merin could see how brittle it was.
"Don't worry. Things are going to be fine. You'll see. I need to go see what the plan is. We are going to do something, but you should tend to Jakob. He looks like he needs you." Merin tried to straighten, to look like he was heartier than he was, and strode past Werla without using Karl as a cane. Werla nodded, frowning, before heading back to her wounded friend. As soon as she was no longer looking, he leaned on Karl again. Merin noticed with a pang of regret and guilt that the other boy who had been fighting with Jakob earlier wasn't there. He hoped he was just somewhere out of sight, but the expression Werla had been wearing suggested otherwise.
Merin made his way towards the man with salt and pepper hair, who, from what the gaggle of terrified villagers seemed to be saying, was the mayor.
Merin shoved his way into the throng as politely as he could, but unrelentingly. He was too hurt to use much tact. When they wouldn't move, he pushed people out of the way simply by walking into them until they stopped being an obstacle. When he stood in front of the mayor, Merin gave an informal salute.
"Merin Twostone. Veteran of three Odelun Ranger Campaigns. Reporting for duty. If you've a plan, speak it and I will do my best to enact it. If not, I recommend turning over the reigns to me or one of the others here with combat experience. We're penned like rats. Something needs to be done. Something will be done even if I've got to do it myself." He tried to make himself look commanding, but wasn't sure if his singed beard, obvious wounds, burns and bloodstained armor made him seem more or less imposing. Like a grizzled warrior or someone who was half dead on his feet. He knew which one he felt like, but hoped they'd see him as the other.
Interactions:
Kylesar1
Hanarei
Rawr-ness
Re'Wersu
Location: Town Hall
Re'Wersu looked to the woman as she agreed to take the man. The Jailer's Assistant nodding his head clearly a bit week and woozy losing a bit of blood from his injuries. Fortunately he was in a good enough state that so long as they got him treatment he would be fine albeit with trouble walking properly for a while. The Bestias looked at the woman as she mentioned her looking worn out. Naturally she was going to be offended by such a thing, even though it was far from the rude remark she made about the woman's age. Given the situation she wasn't about to start trouble now, sure she considered it an insult but it didn't change the fact having to awkwardly sprint as she did carrying someone and awkwardly holding her weapon she was indeed a bit worn down and need of a little bit of a breather.
"Ha! I've climbed the Oshar mountains like I couldn't... wait up!" She spoke stumbling a bit her boasting making her briefly forget the shackles pointing her weapon out causing her to be a bit top heavy nearly stumbling before catching herself. The arrow that had sent Elias pushing ahead clearly visible as her ears perked up suddenly remembering just how dangerous the area was. She was more lucky then skilled to make it this far without taking an arrow... or at least filling a few more into the back of the man she carried. She shuffled behind the woman clearly waiting for her making her grumble a bit though keeping her mouth shut still not wanting to come off ungrateful. She was allowing her more hot headed side get the best of her since starting this journey of hers.
Traveling behind through the smoke it was a rather unpleasant experience. She did her best to hold her breath minimizing the fumes she could inhale though it didn't stop her sensative nose from picking up the smell of smoke and the very unpleasant smell of burning flesh mixed in faint though clearly there. She closed her eyes partly allowing her sense of hearing to help guide her minimizing the discomfort as she made it over shortly behind heading behind. The woman gagging as as the burning was far from being the main concern feeling a bit nauseous at the very unpleasant smell of the burning flesh being far to distinct of a smell for her nose to quite get rid of as it wiggled about. Her ears twitched looking forward seeing as she seemed to be recovering herself the guard laid down coughing himself not able to completely avoid it as well despite having the benefit of being carried.
"I'm f...." She spoke up pausing to gag a bit turning her head spitting out at the ground away from them feeling as if she could taste the burning corpse despite it being all being just in her mind.
"I'm fine! Nothing of bother to me at all! Re'Wersu's my name, and you?" She spoke trying to act a bit tough in response despite how rough she had felt before realizing she hadn't given her name or asked the woman for hers. She could hear the sounds from outside of the attackers jeering as she glared towards the now sealed up entrance half wanting to go out there and give them a what for, despite how foolish it would be particularly given she was still shackled. Her head turned glancing over who seemed to be in charge... at least given everyone gathering around them. Her eyes shifted to the dwarf her tail lifting up instinctively like a dog seeing someone familiar for the first time in a while... granted it wasn't of actual personal acquaintance as much as her familiarity with Dwarves. They always ended up doing a good amount of their trading of furs with Dwarves in which they would get many of their metal goods.
"Hoy! The jailer here, or someone who can undo my stupid shackles?" She spoke half interrupting the talk about the siege with her own issue. She lifted her hands up waving to show the shackles as the heavy cleaving sword she held caused her to get a bit off balance forcing her to quickly shift her hands back down before she might stumble forward or fall over and look like a complete idiot.
Interacted: Elias
DrawingMoo
(Vague shout out interupting asking to get her hands uncuffed)Mentioned: Marin
Fred ColonUsers who are viewing this thread
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