Fantasy God of Lost Faith - The Storyline

[HTCOR]

A summoning into this world ain't pretty, as it tends to rip away your identity. Your very essence, torn away from you, cannibalized in order to help pull you across time and space. It drags at your mind, and it helps you not, right? The feeling of your own self, lost in the slipstream of the Aether. Perhaps you could say that something wishes to hinder you, no?

But allow me to get down to business. Things you shall need to know. First, you are stepping into the world of Isoroppia. Second. You have each met a being known as 'Eos', and he aided you on your journey- yet you don't recall how, when, or why. Or even what, for that matter. Just that Eos is a cult being, and the Pantheon has tried their best to wipe him out.

Oh, who's the Pantheon? Simple. They are the Gods. Those who rule above us all, assist us in our life by providing the flair of things that belong- such as the sun, the wind, and even the very air we breathe. They are headed by the god known as the 'Scholar', a God who almost fell at the hands of something else-

A being known as the Breaker to the common folk, or, his full title, 'The One Who Shattered the Heavens'. A particularly ugly pactborn, who's pride was so noteworthy that it is his defining trait in tales. To say that one is with the Breaker, is akin to saying one is irredeemable. What he did? He slaughtered the majority of the gods, leaving only four behind to repopulate the Heavens. But alas, that doesn't matter- not yet.

But you come in there. You are here to spark the incandescent flame of life to this land, turn this hollow shell into a place of legends, told in the far future to children at night about the splendor of this place. You are not merely heroes- you are the saviors of this tale, in my bias opinion.
Your memories are scattered among the land, able to be regained by what I call 'Memory Essences', which can cause you to gain a bit more power, and old memories- or perhaps power from memories! You may even gain other people's Memory Essences, and grow stronger for that.

There are many threats in this world, and you can do much about them...but enough about others- what are you here for? What shall you fight for? Will you fight for the gold and riches to rival a king? The glory to be apart of legends told for all of history? Or perhaps, you shall fight for what you've lost- those vital memories

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

INTRO​

The creaks of the abandoned shack reverberated off the walls, each step having risked the chance of falling straight through the floorboards; so when the three figures arrived at the center of the room, the ruckus they had made was met by complete silence. The door had been left ajar, the morning sun lighting up the room with its radiant glow. The trio found themselves stood before a total of five shrines, each with their own shabby creation. The aroma of salt stung at their nostrils, and as one of the men stepped forward, he hesitated, turning to the decrepit old man in the crew. In contrast to the two that wore red robes to obscure their image, he wore a simple brown tunic, accompanied by a scarf that indicated towards him being the elder of the village they had visited.

"You realize the material here is less than adequate, correct?" asked the first cloaked man. "The summon will be less than satisfactory. Even still, you will pay the agreed amount, correct? The Red Cloaks will not be taking any refunds once the ritual is over." The eldest figure nodded solemnly to the robed one's demands, waving him a hand as if to signify the continuation of his procedure. The two mages shared a glance before returning to the pedestals, and with a swipe of the initial caster's hand, a circle endowed with magical power circled their feet. After a few shared words and influxes in the air pressure, the deed was done, and what stood before them were five individuals in the place of their respective stands, each covered by only a single tattered set of brown garments, hardly covering the skin on their backs.

Satisfied with their accomplishment, the Red Cloaks directed their attention to the elder, pocketing their hands into the shadows of their sleeves. "We'll be collecting the money at the Guild Hall. It was a pleasure doing business with you." Stepping past the geezer without a second look, the duo disappeared, leaving the old-timer to spectate the newly acquainted heroes that were going to bring his village out of despair. Cracking a smile, he planted the cane he possessed on the wooden floor with a thud, raising his voice.

"Now then, I expect that you all have a good amount of questions to ask! Do not worry, the time to talk will come soon. Come along now, heroes. We will continue our conversation at the guild hall. It might be small, but it is much more put together than this drab excuse of a place." Showing his hunched back to them, he began to walk out, expecting each of them to follow in pursuit.

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

Hatch
​

As his eyes groggily fluttered open, the pact-born felt the odd sensation of air returning to his lungs, and with a startled jolt, he was wide awake, staring at the wrinkly being before him. Where in the hell- he stopped himself, placing a hand to his head. Why was it pounding so hard? He felt like he had just been crinkled up into a ball and thrown out of a ten story building. Pushing the distress in his body to the side, the beautiful being took a moment to get a handle of his surroundings, scanning every nook of the area before resting his strikingly grey gaze on the four others that were left in the same position as him. Who were they, and why were they here?

His hypothesizing was halted by the ancient fellow from before, ordering Hatch to pursue after him, akin to a lost dog. The demon-like warrior had a better idea. Taking a few uneasy steps forward, he planted a hand on the top of the man's bald head, leaning forward so that he was cheek-to-cheek with them. "Know where I can find myself some mead?" The question was, in Hatch's mind, extremely important, more than learning any irrelevant information that had nothing to do with his enjoyment. Wrapping his arm around the back of the unsettled, old fogy's neck, he placed an obnoxiously overbearing simper to masquerade his confused manner that came along with a lack of memories.

The elder was mildly disappointed, and the longer Hatch spoke, the more he regretted ever having been forced to fall to the mercy of backwater heroes. Gently shoving Hatch's arm away, they stared him dead in the eye. "We will talk first. Only then will you be able to drink. We have important matters to discuss, and if you all aren't properly prepared for what is ahead, then you will most certainly die." With that, he walked past the brutish man, heading for the guild hall. As for Hatch, he was left in a fit of mild irritation, begrudgingly going after the cryptic messenger. The warnings given by the fuddy-duddy didn't mean a bit to him, but there was a pique in his interests. What was it that the archaic goon thought was so dangerous? He had to know. And so, he didn't wait for the others, taking the lead in his own, grandiose stride.
HTCOR Lo Mayn NyxNightmare

 

[Lo Mayn]

Berlin A. Malkuth​

"An Open Cage Door"​

Silently, the pactborn stood still akin to a statue. He couldn't focus on anything other than the people beside him and the senior human. The man spoke quickly to introduce an idea to Berlin and to the others. Berlin's breathing strict and shallow, Berlin watched the interaction between the elder and another man; A clear drunkard.

With said drunkard a bit ahead, it was then, Berlin could open his mind and relax his slim yet handsomely muscular figure. Unknown to him was the condition of his body; A single stretch was enough to send a sharp pain through his body. Berlin gripped his chest and stumbled forward. His steps uneven, Berlin could barely catch himself on the door frame. The heavy steps creaked through the shack. Berlin groaned under the noise. He watched the two walk on as the pain in his brain came and went under the wind's tides. “What in the hell is happening to me?” He began, running his hand through his gray hair in distress. His mind refused to answer, and, so his words fell to the quietness of the shack. Thankfully, he could remember two things; his name is Berlin Malkuth and he's something that's not human. Whatever the last part meant, he could care less for now. Constantly, pulsations reverberated through him, and he slid down onto his butt. His back to the wall, he looked towards the altar. He needed a moment to breathe. He bit his lips, “Oh gods, what is this dread?”

The damned desire for answers left a bitter taste on his tongue as his eyes focused, and, it finally occurred that he wasn't alone.

 

[NyxNightmare]

The vampire's vision was blurred crimson, and all sense of touch had long since abandoned the woman's body. Where was she? Who was she? It felt as if her entire existence was dangling above reality, with her memories forcibly ripped from her brain. Only, she could feel nothing. She could see nothing. A faint voice would call out to her and whisper a single name. Camila.

The next moment Camila would open her eyes was in the presence of strangers. Her unfamiliar surroundings only served to increase the growing frustration boiling over in her stomach. A flickering sense of betrayal gripped her heart, causing her to mindlessly grit her teeth and sink her nails into the palm of her hands. Who the hell had summoned her here with a broken bridge between her emotions and memories? What was she to do with all the anger that had welled up inside her? Let it go? How wasteful. Letting go was for ice princesses, and honey, she was a queen.

Glaring at the nearest soul, Camila's victim was a mere mortal. His humanity tickled her senses. A scrumptious snack he was. However, he currently fell short of being a worthy meal in the woman's eyes. "Hmph." Camila would huff and dismissively turn her head. It was with the utmost certainty that the woman was not paying an ounce of attention towards the old geezer. Although she was missing a lot of pieces to form a proper picture of her past, she had a feeling that she wasn't the type of person to take orders from her elders. Brushing her hair back with her slender fingers, she would quickly size up those around her.

Nobody was very promising from looks alone, that much could easily be distinguished. Sure, some of them are gifted with toned figures, but what good was that paired with a less than desirable face? Such commoners. One of the burly men made his love for alcohol apparent. The distinctive pactborn aroma immediately filled her nostrils. How revolting. Such a creature is an anomaly of life. The pactborn was shot down rather firmly by the robed elder. The old man's once calm visage dipped into an austere territory. Maybe she had underestimated the geezer? Looks could be deceiving after all. Choosing to follow the man in hopes he was a lot wiser than he appeared, Camila would lightly fall into step beside the others. "A drink in the morning? Have you no class?" Her words were delicate yet scathing in an attempt to bruise the man's ego.

Camila kept her eyes forward, trying her best to ignore the tingling sensation of pain spreading across her body. Her earlier rage masked her aching bones. Not that she would let it show. Beauty knows no pain, after all.

Interacting/Interacted: TheImmortalDeity
Mentioned: Lo Mayn HTCOR

 

[HTCOR]

Iain​

Bursts of cannon fire, a figure accelerating towards them as a blur- before nothing.

None of it was clear, as Iain forced his mind to try to collect itself, as his covenant broke- his power shattering. His mind was starting to fade away, the starry seas starting to break apart. His thoughts- ney, his very soul was starting to be torn apart. His hand outstretched towards the heavens, cursing them. His destiny was to finally visit the End, yet-

...Yet why? Why did he have to visit the end? What was the end? His hand was slowly forming into view, as the world was revealed- a small shack, different from the wooden planks he- the wooden planks? From where? His face, plain as any scoundrel ever could be, scrunched together. The scars from the past were gone, as he clenched his fingers together into a fist. He slowly released them, wondering where his gloves were as an idle thought...before nothing else showed up. He would glance up at the elderly man in the brown tunic, his eyes flicking over them. His thoughts were...scattered. They couldn't form coherently, it felt like he was stuck in an unending fog that hindered the mind alone, and not the eyes.

Iain planted his foot on the ground in front of him, before taking another. He looked like a peasant, not what he- could be? What was he? His face formed into a faint frown, the muscles unused to such an action. But his eyes drifted to the white haired woman- words forming, a particular set of words. Yet for now, his indignant response snapped out.

"Where in the-" A bloody cough escaped him, his hand pressing against his mouth. A wince, pained, as everything flashed into painful clarity. Something to do with magic, something to do with spellwork. Perhaps not something he could coherently understand at the moment, but the lattice was in place- his mind protected from the memories that it should have. Blood, laced with silvery liquid that flowed like mercury for a few seconds.

The smell of Salt flowed through the room- a bitter, unbearable scent. One could liken it to the ocean, a scent that seemed to draw in the hardiest of men, forged them into something anew...before it faded away.

His eyes, cast in dull steel, seemed to glance around the room, settling on the white haired woman once more. "...Pardon the intrusion, ma'am, but..." His eyes slowly diluted once more, before he forced himself to stand in full, pride dictating his poise.

Something remained in his head, a whispering voice- barely audible, but seemingly chanting to him...and each time it ascended in volume, his blood threatened to burst out of his mouth once more, as if something was trying to drag itself out of him and escape.

A massive crashing of sound and pain went through him, as he hacked up more blood, purging the poison from his veins. Perhaps he needed to breath more- but considering the pain that he went through, it wasn't going to be pleasant. And to think, he was called here for some reason.

And so he stood up tall, forcing himself past the pain- the pain fading to be like a dull ache. "I shall stand, and follow. Lead the way, Leon." He'd ask of the Old Man, following after. His pace swiftened, trying to make his way past the Alcoholic- his brain twitching at the thought of that man's name. It wasn't pleasant. But he would continue to move on, holding the door open for anyone who passed, almost absentmindedly.

"...Camila." His voice was low, as he seemed to glance at the piece of artwork- and piece of work- known as 'Ice Bitch Queen'. She seemed to know no pain, but his senses tingled, something informing him of something deeper. Perhaps he needed to dig into that. But after his words, he wisely shut up. No need to irritate and get his ass whipped by some dominatrix on a rampage.

Interacting: TheImmortalDeity ; NyxNightmare

 

[Kyleiria]

Allara​

A slash of pain lanced across her stomach. Three of them to be exact, as if the claws of a massive being had taken a swipe at her and landed its blow. The lithe and nimble elf doubled over, arms wrapping about her waist as long, auburn hair fell to cover graceful features that were twisted in agony. The roaring in her ears was so loud it had to be in this room. It just had to be. Oh gods, it hurt. Time seemed to stretch on for eternity, burning wracking through her body. Was she breathing? She wasn't sure.

And suddenly she was. Very sure. With a gasp of air, emerald eyes snapped open and Allara unfurled herself, arms moving from around her waist to cross over her chest. Brilliant gaze swept around the dusty room and the others in the room. What the hell was she doing here? What the hell were they doing here? Why was she here?

Vaguely, she heard the old man in front of them rambling on about some sort of guild hall and important whatever-he-needed, but the elf could barely focus past the musty air in the room. If she didn't get out of this shack soon, she'd go insane. Smooth strides carried her out the door before anyone else had even left, dismissing them all and not saying a word until fresher air was in her lungs.

Leaning against the outside wall of the shack, long fingers fiddled with the hem of her shirt. What an absolutely boring piece of clothing. And nearly useless for anything, too. She'd have to replace it. Where had it come from even? Voices soon followed behind her and long ears twitched at the variants in everyone's speech. Most seemed just as lost as she was, if not readily willing to admit it. But one thing did grab her attention as almost everyone filed out of the door.

"I see no reason why we can't talk and eat and drink at the same time." Her voice was melodic, but sharp and commanding, like a warm spoonful of honey. A warm spoonful of honey laced with a trace of arsenic so subtle you wouldn't know you were dying until you were already dead.

But the geezer's words lit something inside her, the prospect of a quest or adventure sending a jolt of excitement through her veins. Peeling herself languidly away from the wall, she prepared to follow, but a quick headcount made her pause and stick her head back through the door to the man sitting on the floor, still. "You coming?" Allara didn't exactly wait for an answer, though, her words more a warning that they wouldn't wait, before she, too, followed along.

Interacted: Lo Mayn / TheImmortalDeity
Mentioned: NyxNightmare / HTCOR

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

Leon [NPC]​

Unsettling apprehension washed over Leon's shoulders. The gnawing uncertainty of his decision to summon these unlikely champions was taking its toll. Was he right in relying on this hefty gamble? Only time would tell. Dragging his creaky frame forward, he walked past the sickly man holding the door. The Red Cloaks warned him of the poor conditions that such low-quality materials were going to have on those that were brought back from the dead, but as he came face-to-face with the results, his insecurities worsened. Even so, time was of the essence. This was his last chance and only hope for the survival of his village. He only prayed that his reckless decision wasn't going to be the nail in the coffin for Boering Village.

While the heroes spoke amongst themselves, Leon led the way. As the group vacated the dilapidated shack, the blinding light of the sun's rays above beat down on them, the sky an everlasting blue with few clouds to be seen. What lay before them was a hamlet that long lost its will to thrive. The architecture consisted of a few huts, barely taken care of, whether it be from the negligence of their owners or the lack of means to do so. The townsfolk were scarce, a few farmers here, a sprinkle of housewives there. The only commotion came from the kids that played in the fields. That is until the warriors made their appearance. The reaction was immediate and not subtle in the slightest. Disgust radiated off the settlers as they began to form a crowd around the party, and as Leon walked among them, he felt their disdain burn into the back of his head.

It was because of him that their home was in such a sorry state. Using up the last of the reserves, he spent the only buffer that the town possessed as a last-ditch effort to bring them out of their ceaseless downfall that had been plaguing the settlement for years. How did it end up so wrong for them? What did they do to deserve this onslaught of misfortune, leaving them battered and bruised with no end in sight? Not even Leon, with all his years, was able to answer. All he had was the belief that the Pantheon had a plan for him, and he was meant to fulfill it. Finally, with the masses gone and the guild hall in sight, the old man quickened his step.

The guild hall itself was a complete juxtaposition to the rest of the township. It stood tall on the top of the largest hill, acting as a mansion that surveyed over the land. Its condition was impeccable and tediously slaved over by those that were employed within its walls. This was the difference between the impoverished Boering Village and The Guild, a prosperous faction that flourished off the hiring of heroes from all over the world. These were the people that Leon entrusted the future of his village. Pushing open the entrance of the establishment, Leon made his way straight to the bar counter. The guild hall played as both a place of hire and a pub for the masses. It was built only a few months ago, but its success was obvious in the face of the hard times that the inhabitants of Boering Village faced, and preyed off their woes in turn. Turning himself towards the five strangers, Leon bowed his head in respect.

"Welcome, heroes. Where you're standing now is the guild hall that resides within Boering Village. I am Leon, the elder. I am aware that all of you must have many questions, but I'm afraid that I do not have the answers to them. All I do know is that, as of now, you have been brought back into this world from the constricting hands of death itself to fight again. It is through your triumphs that we both benefit. Now then, how about I stop with this nonsensical babble and get you all something to eat and drink? You all must be exhausted from the summoning process." With a swift hand, he motioned towards the servers, each of them silently preparing a meal for the members of the party. "Don't mind indulging in yourselves. Everything is paid for by The Guild. We will discuss the specifics during breakfast, so please hold off on your questions until everything has been said, if I may be so bold to ask."

As the plates of steaks and beer made their way to the counter, the heroes were asked to take a seat and get comfortable. As for Leon, he disappeared in the back room for a few seconds, coming back out with a smile on his face. "Let me introduce to you our honored guest, Quor. He is an adventurer like you with many feats under his belt. He will be the one to test you today and be the one to supply you with all the information that you will need to make your lives easier in the journey to come. . ." Stretching out his arm to the doorway, he waited for the soldier to make his debut.

HTCOR Lo Mayn NyxNightmare Kyleiria

 

[HTCOR]

"Quor"​

It wasn't long before a massive figure stepped into the room, a draconian figure- cast in scales, with a bastard sword fit for him across his back. To anyone who saw him, they'd realize one thing- he was around ten feet tall, and built solidly. Perhaps he could rip a man in two, considering his sheer size...but for now, he would crouch down to look amongst the group. A low, grumbling series of words escaped him, able to be felt in the chest of any who heard. "So you five are the new heroes....not the best summoning for any of you. I cannot see that any of you had pleasant deaths. Hopefully, you all are able to perform, past your condition's limits." His gaze settled on each of them in turn, eyes of the brightest silver settling on Camila. They narrowed upon the sight of the vampiric entity, something stirring within him- a sense of intent past any regular man's ability.

It was hatred. It was bloodlust. It was the wish to rip someone limb from limb...and the feeling washed over the entire party for a few moments. "...I smell your blood, child. Feast not upon any villagers, and we shall be fine." Roughly, a worn down quarterstaff with barely attached leather grip was thrust into Camila's arms. And so he glanced at the others, slowly figuring out what they might be.

It wasn't long before each of them had their weapons given to them- for Berlin, a leather bracer, with a single storage gem embedded in it. Allara got a hunting knife- most likely the best quality out of all of the weapons, considering it could be used to stab someone but...it wasn't weighted for throwing, and wasn't the best at properly stabbing. Iain was given a shortspear, the iron tip not too functional. As for their armor? A leather coat was placed on the counter in front of each of them, not too reinforced, along with a general set of clothing- not fitted, but rather loose in nature. Camila got a long skirt, a blouse, and a leather overcoat. Berlin and Iain, obtained something consisting of a shirt, baggy pants, and heavy boots. Hatch didn't get even a top or shoes- he only got wrappings, and a leather skirt. Nothing more. Whereas Allara was given a hunter's outfit, made of dull green cloth, and soft leather boots. It wasn't the best outfit overall for any of them, but considering the guild had no clue who would be summoned, it had to be entirely guesswork for what they would obtain.

"Your job today shall be simple. You will clear out a graveyard of the infested spirits within. Some would call them the Undead, but simply put, they're reanimated corpses who need to be slain. Do not fail this. Make that mistake, and I cannot feasibly train any of you to improve."

With that, Quor sat down on the floor, awaiting their squabbling to begin...

Interacting: Kyleiria TheImmortalDeity NyxNightmare Lo Mayn HTCOR

 

[Lo Mayn]

Berlin A. Malkuth
'Outside Of The Nest'​

"You coming?" A tone soft enough to message his ears, the woman didn’t linger, though it had been enough to drag Berlin tooth and nails from his mind. Misconstrued as a bit of kindness, the boy caressed his neck. A strange itch felt implanted where his neck met his back. There was a skull symbol, cut in two. Actually, it hurt more than itch. The pactborn considered words, though nothing left his mouth in response; Berlin wasn’t quite sure what to answer, conversation felt strange to him.

Out of the shack, fresh winds sung. A healthy sun generously shared its light to the land, and nearly blinding the pactborn in the meanwhile. The skies seemed as though they smiled for him, a new feeling. When had been the last time Berlin ever looked up to the sky? He didn’t remember.

Handful of steps carried Berlin from the shack into the crowd of overwhelming numbers. Extreme for sure, the glaring eyes didn’t sit well with him. Disturbing nauseousness crept up Berlin’s stomach akin to a spider chasing across its web to its prey. A Deep fear was sown into the being’s core, a heavy weight.

Nonetheless, Berlin kept his head up. He couldn’t let himself be sidetracked, not by the people nor the impoverished condition of the village.
“Where are they?” Mumbling, he asked to the world, to which it replied with the indistinct chattering of the crowd.

It was then, gorgeous women caught his eye as well as a party of persons with them as they entered into a big building. “There.” Hastened, Berlin bobbed and weaved through the crowd to the overseeing mansion. Whatever were to come, Berlin knew he had to be involved.
Grandiose in size and appearance, the guild hall’s impressiveness tasted refreshing yet annoying. Climbing the steps, vivid violet eyes glanced back at the village and its people. Couldn’t the builders even spare a penny? Distaste riddled Berlin’s tongue whilst his right arm shook, uncontrolled and concerning, as he approached the door. He’d hold his arm still and enter into the building, rags, fear, and all.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been too late. Leon seemingly had just begun, and the others hadn’t scattered yet. Softly, the door closed. Berlin took his place a few feet behind the rest, and listened well to what the senior had to say which wasn’t much in the long run. After Leon’s quick catch up on the situation, he went about speaking about breakfast and for them to wait even longer. Depressed at the wait, Berlin sighed and casted his vision around to the servers and the greater lengths of the room. Waves of bizarre surrealism washed over him though he couldn’t quite pin a reason as to why, his memory for sure felt blurry and foggy. Loose ideas of heros and great beasts, a discomfort had seeded itself as servers were, well, serving him. Berlin would need a seat to really process all that he was experiencing. Surely the others must have some confusion too. The drunkard, the elf, and the vampire, as wild as the group were, they were in the same boat. Though Berlin wouldn’t quite speak to them, he’d take a sat and watch as a beast of a being stepped into the room.

“Quor.”

Large and powerful, the creature known as Quor handed out “equipment” that was as ragged as the town itself. Supposedly, these rags and play things belong to the summonees, how fitting. At least that felt familiar. Before long, Berlin too would receive an item, a brace, which he immediately equipped. Clothes for him and the others were laid out, but, Berlin waited for the others to do whatever they decided first.

Mentioned: HTCOR TheImmortalDeity NyxNightmare Kyleiria

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

Hatch

​

What a bunch of nonsense. Hatch had finished his plate mere moments ago and took the time to survey his immediate area. Surrounded by a bunch of nobodies, he thought to himself, getting a read on everyone present in the room. To him, there was no point in the other summons. If they had known he was coming, then why bring along a ragtag team of useless fools that were going to ride off of his glory in the long run away? The moment the old man saw him, he should've turned the others away immediately; sent them packing. Why waste your time when you have the world's strongest warrior in your presence? This is all a joke. A condescending laugh escaped his mouth at the thought of it all.

"I don't need your shitty handouts," he commented, viewing the clothes presented to him in disgust. "I ain't so weak as to need some old geezer and overgrown lizard telling me what I need to do. Show me where the damn problem is and I'll get it done. Simple as that." The man stretched himself, getting out of his seat and rolling his arms to get rid of their stiffness. All of this useless talk was going nowhere and he was itching to punch something. Of course, he wasn't able to resist noticing that the vile woman from earlier was seated right beside him. Her coarse comment from when they were in the shack hadn't eluded him, and as he went to leave, he made it his goal to do so violently.

"You're in my way, bitch," he spat at Camila, towering over her. "If you don't wanna get the shit beaten out of you, I suggest moving. Better yet, how about you grovel at my feet? Maybe then I'll think about whether or not to drag your filthy mug across the dirt." He dared her to challenge him, getting well into her personal space with an unwavering gaze. "Or are we gonna have ourselves a problem? I don't wanna make a bitch cry in public, but for you, I can always make an exception."

HTCOR Kyleiria Lo Mayn NyxNightmare

 

[HTCOR]

Iain​

Iain's head pounded still, as he wiped away a bit of blood from his mouth. He'd found his way in the table, and slowly assembled his gear. He didn't feel up to arguing with that...thing. It would be ugly, unpleasant, and overall disgusting. Even being near him gave him the chills, which would enforce the feeling of sheer emptiness that was invoked in his very soul. The fury, the disgust, the despair...all of it radiated from Iain, a bastion of negativity. His head hurt, his body suffered- and so he would force himself to put on the attire in front of everyone, using the rags of his former attire as a buffer.

But as he picked up the shortspear...his eyes found their way to the one known as 'Hatch'. His mind finally stopped reeling, and finally admitted what it was- and their entire bitch fit. His gaze found their way to Quor afterwards, a scowl forming on his face. "I doubt we'll manage to survive. But, I'll do my damnest to survive." He'd step over towards Camila with intent to pull her chair out of Hatch's way- a fight was not what he wanted. No. If someone radiated that feeling, he wasn't going to give them the fight they wanted- it would be ugly, it would be disgusting.

A near silent hum, as his hand rested on the back of Camila's chair- ready to tug her, and himself, to safety. He already figured that she was someone he knew, therefore he had some form of debt, right? He knew her name. That was enough to tell him that he needed to keep her safe, of sorts. Right?

Interacting: NyxNightmare TheImmortalDeity
Mentioned: Kyleiria Lo Mayn

 

[NyxNightmare]

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code When typing responses to rps, be aware that when you press enter it will not show that you did. You'll have to use the
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Camila | Interacting: Hatch TheImmortalDeity Iain HTCOR | Mentioned: |
[div class="Lines"]

So much was transpiring around Camila. She dared not make sense of it all at once, lest her head explodes on the spot. What Camila did know is that an unsightly lizard threatened her, and a drab old man that smelled of poverty told her to save the world with a STICK. All in one morning. She now sat in one of the guild hall chairs, dressed in her new garbs. Not one spec of gold. Commoner's apparel. How did someone of her godly status manage to sink so low? What crime had she committed in her past life to warrant this madness? At least she still had her beauty.

Just when she thought things couldn't possibly get worse, the arrogant gorilla from earlier decided to wave his fat-ass ego in her face. Little did he know, she had a massive ego of her own. Her jaw dropped as she inhaled sharply. What an appalling man! No, a beast! How dare he use that tone with me, a lady? "Excuse you?! Why don't you walk the bloody hell around me? Or is your brain only competent enough to know one direction?"

The woman was glaring daggers into the man until she felt someone else invade her presence. Peeking over her shoulder, she scowled at the mere human that allowed a quiet hum to escape his lips. "And who the fuck are you?? Think you can hum near me without permission? Your filthy human hands are tainting my chair. I'll have you executed!" Camila berated the poor human man. The scent of fresh blood tickled her flaring nostrils. Sniffing the air around her, it became clear that the smell was emanating from the man before her. He was bleeding in one way or another.

Camila's eyes softened as she reached her hand up to caress his cheek with the back of her hand. "Ah, I understand now. You've never meant me any harm. You were planning to offer your blood to me, and I am flattered by your servitude. It is your lucky day, for I have chosen to spare you and accept your offer to be my eternal blood bank." She removed her hand, wiping it on her skirt briefly as if there were dirt upon it. Turning back to face her original opponent, she didn't hesitate to raise her staff behind her (whacking her new blood bank in the face as she did so) and fling it at the vulgar man's chest. The staff made contact and immediately snapped in two, leaving him in much the same condition as before, save for a few chips of wood that now littered his clothes.

Camila stood there for a moment, her stare remaining concrete. Useless stick!! How dare you betray me?! [div class="Lines"][/div] Original Code by AgWordSmith (You are a goddess) [/div]

 

[Kyleiria]

Allara
​

Fast fingers immediately snapped out to grasp the hunting knife dropped in front of her, grip expertly wrapping around the hilt as Allara continued to mostly ignore her companions. Emerald gaze lifted briefly when the one who had been left in the hut strolled in. At least he’d made it. Eyes returned to the blade in her hand, poorly weighted, mostly dull, probably just about as useful as a nail file in a fight, but at least it could gauge someone’s eye out. Maybe.

The commotion over her shoulder made Allara sigh with impatience and her blade’s tip was run underneath her nails, one by one, as it seemed most of her party wanted to piss around, rather than do the job assigned to them. “Someone get pretty boy a drink before he gets his skirt in a twist and kills someone he’s not supposed to?” Placing her knife on the table, still not even looking at the group, she stood, picking up the hunting leathers that seemed worn enough to at least not chafe, if not maybe crumble with a single, well placed strike to a seam.

A derisive scoff left her lips when the vampire’s staff dissolved into pieces. “Stupid and impulsive. Let’s hope your fangs work better than that.” Slim chin nodded to the figure hovering behind, “and tell your fatalistic guard dog to heel. Fighting between us will only get us killed quicker.”

An exhilarated excitement glittered under Allara’s gaze as she turned back to Leon, and supposedly the beast called Quor, “Where’s the graveyard and how many will we face?” The others could bicker. Ever the huntress, she didn’t have time for this pointless shit. But a barely there nod was offered to the late-comer. At least he was smart enough to not get involved. Yet.

Lo Mayn TheImmortalDeity NyxNightmare HTCOR

 

[Lo Mayn]

Berlin A. Malkuth​

'The Chatter'
​

The bickering and snide comments of the other summonees filled the Guild’s halls, yells and all sorts of vulgarness and pride. Even a broken stick. Three out of the five summons had been engaging in what could only be described as undoubtedly improper childish banter, whilst the fourth, Berlin, felt under watch as he swore the elf gestured towards his presence multiple times. The idea of it made his arm shudder. Thankfully, the people around weren’t all bad.

A server came to clean up his empty plate. Berlin certainly didn’t expect a smile but simply not having to be at the receiving end of screams were enough to garner a thousand appreciative thanks from the Pactborn. What kind of world could it be that he would receive that?
Had he been dreaming this all along? That must be it. The fantastical hall must’ve come from a children’s story. The servers and food from a lost desire. It must’ve been ages since he last ate. But, it would be too good to be true. Berlin returned to the matters at hand; such as too many answers and, gods damn all, too much pain. Nothing of which he was a stranger, but Berlin could do without the added anguish. It was hard enough to keep his hand still amongst the others, much less with the constant wave of manageable pain and less so.

With a soft groan, whilst Aching, he rose from his seat. He had already well considered how long he’d wait for the others to act, but their attention being elsewhere, he couldn’t wait any longer. Plus, Berlin could simply sneak on by now.
Past Quor, Berlin collected his clothing. Plain, unfitted, and a bit itchy if he were being honest. Again, the Guild hall seemingly loved to cheap out in every other aspect but its building and workers. Berlin couldn’t complain, though, he could use a hood.

“Where’s the graveyard and how many will we face?” That damned Elf spoke again. Was it possible that words spoken could be curved? He couldn’t be bothered to entertain the thought any longer.

Berlin leaned against the counter as he could now wait. The pact born’s questioned was asked for him, rather well might he add, and Berlin could only imagine the great warrior of Quor wouldn’t dare to answer any of the other thousand of questions Berlin himself had in mind until they had completed what he asked. A sigh escaped from pale lips, He’d be forced to fight. The feeling bitter as could be, Berlin truly hated it. Perhaps the other summonees would enjoy it, they already seem to enjoy bickering, But not him. Could he even trust these loudmouth creatures? Never before had people ever surprised him. The boisterous combative drunkards or the army men of numerous taverns who took their antics to the street and to the quiet girl who-... Ah. Berlin couldn’t remember.

Mentioned: HTCOR TheImmortalDeity NyxNightmare Kyleiria

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

Leon [NPC]​

Ah, they're already at each other's throats. Leon observed as the meeting steadily lost track of itself. The saviors that he spent the town's fortune on were making a mockery of themselves in front of The Guild itself. The old man wasn't able to help himself from stealing a glimpse at Quor during the chaos. What was it like to be an esteemed legend such as him? How did it feel to be at the top? The adamantite dog tag that dangled around the reptile's neck sent shivers down Leon's spine. They were the reason The Guild had so much control over the world. Standing against them was akin to signing your own death warrant. Turning his attention back to the rowdy messes in front of him, Leon wondered what was going to come from partnering up with his own set of champions. How was it possible for them to be so incompetent in comparison to Quor?

Eventually, one of them had spoken up. It was the redhead elf that allowed Leon the chance to let the party recoup and hear out the rest of their mission. "A good question, my dear," the geezer said in a gruff tone, his voice worn down from numerous years of use. "It is hard to assume an exact number, but I can assure you that it is not beyond your capacity as a team. The undead is the rabble of the countless monsters you will face during your journey; the bottom of the totem pole. I speculate no more than one-hundred, and that's being generous. This is a small settlement and despite our circumstances, even us farmers, with our low amount of available hands, are capable of dealing with this sort of invasion. Yet, of course, these are our own ancestors. Our own blood. Raising a weapon to them is dishonorable. That is why we have decided to take this chance to test your abilities as a unit while saving the townsfolk from grief. As for where this will all be taking place, Quor has taken the honor of being your guide and has agreed to judge how you handle the job as a team. This tells us where you stand compared to other heroes in The Guild's hierarchy and how much growth we can expect from you."

As he tapped his cane on the floorboards, the senior gave them a warm smile. He had his doubts about the unlikely group, but they were still representing his town and, therefore, representing him. "I wish you all the best of luck. May you come back victorious! I look forward to hearing the good news. Quor, if you don't mind showing them the way, I will be at my house if you need anything." The old man turned to make his leave.

Hatch

​

Staring at the splinters of wood that now littered near his feet, Hatch's anger began to rise. I'm gonna kill her. The thought pervaded his mind, drowning out the useless nonsense being spouted by the others around him. Nothing else mattered to him other than seeing this whore dead. How dare she make a mockery of me. His rage had built up to the point where the veins on his forehead were popping out. As his eyes stared daggers into the vampire's very essence, he went to raise his fist. There was a hint of pleasure that coursed throughout his being as he did so. It felt familiar, this kick of adrenaline. He was in his element. How long had it been since he last felt so alive? The single memory he possessed, the pain he felt right before his inevitable death, stung at the back of his mind. He wanted to pay back the favor to whoever did this to him, the one responsible for getting him stuck with these freakshows. For now, however, he was fine with letting out all this aggression on the nitwit in front of him.

It had been a few seconds, but as his fist tightened, so did the power behind his punch. The energy built up in his strike threatened to explode at any second. As his muscles contracted in all their glory, his silhouette alone was enough to make a person hesitate before getting in his way. He found it easy to control every aspect of his body as if it was trained to obey him perfectly. Years of discipline and experience boasted through his form, unbefitting of a man who had no memory of how he obtained such a feat. He was a living weapon. There was no need for a sword or shield, for Hatch himself was the strongest weapon he ever hoped of wielding. He closed his eyes in concentration as his knuckles came crashing down, the wind around him beginning to whistle, a whoosh emanating from his attack. Not before long, it came into contact, the force of the hit sending a small blast of air in every direction.

"Die knowing that you had the chance to avoid this," he said, confident that there was no possibility of her survival. Opening his eyes, he checked to see how much damage he really did to the stuck up shrew and how pleased he was going to be at the prospect of not having to hear her screechy voice any longer.

NyxNightmare HTCOR Lo Mayn Kyleiria

 

[HTCOR]

"Quor"

As a meaty 'thwack' went throughout the room, a hand had caught a fist in motion. "First lesson. Do not let your healer come to harm. If you get hurt, you cannot survive." Quor had moved in an impressive fashion- whisking himself over the table and catching Hatch's attack without much effort. It didn't even seem to effect him, his strength clearly above the others.

"Second lesson. Attack someone in the sight of a Guild Member, namely another member of the Guild, and they'll most likely record and smash you down into the ground. Or take someone like me and do it." His face found itself in front of Hatch's, as the aura of sheer bloodlust began to move through the room in a steady, unrelenting pressure- yet to any who weren't the Skirted Brawler, they found they would be spared the brunt of the emotion. All of it was focused into a simple glare, yet anyone any bit familiar with magic on any level could detect this was an actual magical effect, not an ability of the swordsman.

It was akin to a tiger staring down a deer, as the Swordsman shoved Hatch backwards. "Attack her again, and you'll have to deal with your teammates never trusting you- perhaps leaving you to die against a superior foe. No one enjoys a fight..." But after a moment, a hand found its way into Camila's face. "And you. Behave yourself. Do not decide that you are inherently superior to your teammates. Each member has a role to fulfill, and they must learn how to accept said roles. Even you."

With that, Quor stood up tall once more. "You will be rewarded with your tin plates, and your official induction into the Guild once you complete the task I gave you. Don't kill each other. Please." And so Quor actually picked up both Camila and Hatch by the scruff, and began to walk out the door. "Follow." He'd state very bluntly, as he walked on out the door- heading for the local graveyard, where their first mission began...

Interacting: TheImmortalDeity NyxNightmare

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

[DM]
I'm painting the scene, don't hurt me . . .

​

As Quor led the travelers to the back of the guild hall, they were able to bear witness to the state that the graveyard was in. Upon the hilltop, it was easy to discern the happenings within the cemetery. In contrast to the overbearing sunlight within the town, a thick miasma had swept its way over the desolate land, an eerie atmosphere left in its wake. What could've been a tranquil resting place for the dead was now the breeding grounds for the corrupt and vile. With graves scattered every which way, hordes of brittle skeletons traversed the barren land, resembling mindless husks that were only capable of killing. Due to the lack of tending, the foulness had begun to spread well beyond the burial ground's borders as the ghastly cloud steadily crept closer to Boering Village.

The Rabble, as they were formally called, mirrored that of a typical farmer. Carrying pitchforks and whips, along with tattered attire, they were not all that imposing alone. Their true terror came from overwhelming numbers. Man, woman, and child were all found within their ranks, each as heartless as the last. There was little coordination amongst them; however, their numbers continued to grow as additional Undead found their way to the surface. Notably, a few of the Rabble were beginning to collect near the middle of the gravesite where a single tombstone rested, its construction different from the rest due to the large sculpture of a saint that stood near its top. This is where the smog was originating, and where the root of evil had taken place.

HTCOR Lo Mayn Kyleiria NyxNightmare

 

[HTCOR]

Iain​

Iain took a moment to step back, and allow Quor to do what he should- eyes of pale gray watching the scenario with a dull view. Something had shifted in his posture, from caring akin to a parent, to aggression, to aggravation, to finally, exhaustion. He seemed to watch with a set of calm features- his mind shutting down almost entirely as Camila and Hatch were dragged off.

"...But a simple spearman, am I." His voice rang true with lies, but it seemed to brook no argument in its tone as he followed behind Quor- his spear held firmly in hand as he trudged after the massive beast of a man. His features settling back to stone, as the graveyard came into view- with a scowl forming on his face.

Children. No. Not this. Not this. Not this. It shouldn't be like this, they shouldn't exist. They should be asleep in His Grasp, sleeping evermore.

As his thoughts spiraled out of control, it was evident on his face as he coughed up blood into his neckerchief, the silvery essence slowly bleeding out into the material.

 

[NyxNightmare]

[class=Notes] // Forward slashes are comments and do no show up in the final design, these are to help you find everything easily and explain some code as well. These comments must be with in a class or script tags in order to be hidden, from what I know// // Long URls are images # followed by letter and numbers are Hex codes or color codes.// // This code does not show breaks unless is shows the
code When typing responses to rps, be aware that when you press enter it will not show that you did. You'll have to use the
tags// [/class] [class=Lines] border-top:2px SOLID #680b0a; margin-bottom:8px; margin-Top:5px; margin-Left:12px; //This is the line dividers in the code, the tiny ones.// [/class]

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Camila | Interacting: Hatch TheImmortalDeity Quor HTCOR | Mentioned: |
[div class="Lines"]

Camila stood her ground. The burly man was going to fist her, and not in a good way. Or, maybe there wasn't a good way. Even if she wanted to sidestep the attack, she was sure the area damage would have killed her anyway. Still, HOW COULD HE??! Quor's palm came into contact with the death blow, halting it without a single flinch. Camila's jaw dropped as she inhaled sharply for the second time today. Picking up the two pieces of her broken staff, Camila fumed. "YOU-" Venom leaked from the phrase she never got to finish. She was fully prepared to lash out at both of the beasts. She didn't need saving! But as Quor pressed on to reprimand the arrogant prick, Camila instinctively wanted to add to the fire.
"Hear that? You'll be begging for me to heal your ballsy ass, and maybe I won't. Maybe you don't even have balls under that skir-kyyahh!" Quor's calloused hand dared to touch her porcelain skin. His rather delicate warning slid right over her head. How could anyone focus while their body was being tainted by such meaty hands???? The moment only proved to progress in a sickening manner as she was lifted into the air. Her feet dangled, missing the comfort of land. "Unhand me!!" She made strides to stab the lizard with her two sticks, but her short arms never reached him.

​

Exhausting herself, the priestess went limp in Quor's hold, refusing to gaze over at the man who had gotten her into this predicament in the first place. Finally being plopped onto the ground, the lizard man explained the party's first mission. They were literally in a field of darkness. The undead creatures only added to the obscure aura. Stepping over stray tombstone fragments, Camila's lips curved into a smile. Her eyes glazed over in wonder as she flipped her head this way and that. "Oh, how GLORIOUS!! Have you ever set your eyes upon anything so breathtaking??" Besides me, of course. Ever since she was summoned into this wasteland of a town, misfortune befell her. But this, this was God's work. Untying the crimson ribbon from her hair, Camila mended her broken staff. She wasn't a craftsman, but it would have to do. Now, she was free to wander about without the worry of losing one of the pieces.

Allowing her fingertips to graze the blades of dead grass along the ground, Camila's eyes gravitated towards the smoggiest of areas, the center of the graveyard. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Camila had to reach it. The gothic decor carried a sense of warmth. Caring not for its anorexic inhabitants, the vampiric woman traveled towards it. A few of the enemies made swings at her, and she swiftly leaped out of harm's way. Weaving through the Rabble on the outskirts of the graveyard became an easy feat for the small woman. However, she did not account for the enemies smaller than her. A sharp pain to her ankle broke the eerie trance previously overtaking Camila. Falling forward, she barely had time to brace herself from the impact. A child stood behind her, their spade raised into the air, ready to cause more bloodshed. Their face had been eaten away by some force of nature. It was only now that Camila truly digested the appearance of the Rabble. The child's soulless sockets stared at her as she avoided the attack.

Ignoring the stinging sensation in her leg, the priestess struggled to rush back to her party, the Rabble at her heels. "This forsaken wonderland's decor is a ruse!! A ruse!!!!" Her vision became spotty as she lost blood. Fully intending to sink her fangs into the human's blood she now smelled so strongly in the air, the woman reached out for him. Or, at least she thought she was. Grabbing onto a thicc forearm, she immediately bit down, the red liquid flowing into her mouth. Choking, she pulled away. "What disgusting human blood!" Wiping her mouth, she shrieked as her eyes settled upon the man in front of her. The man that almost took her life minutes before. With her strength mildly regained, she turned around to face the oncoming mass." Just take me now!! Death is better than living with my defiled tastebuds!!" [div class="Lines"][/div] Original Code by AgWordSmith (You are a goddess) [/div]

 

[Lo Mayn]

Berlin A. Malkuth​

'It's Fire In His Veins'
​

It was a simple question, asked by the Eleven hunter: “Where and how many?” Yet, not an answer came. Instead, the hero Quor vaulted over the lunch table like a sports day hurdle to finally put an end to the squabble invoked by the vampire and drunkard, granting the room a bit of peace. Berlin released a breath and finally turned towards them. What an utter mess they had made, already forcing a hero to clean up their mess. Berlin could only hope their negligence of thinking would be killed here. Wishful thinking, he thought. Soon, the answer came as Quor literally dragged the two out of the door and barked “follow.”

Berlin spared a short glance out the corner of his eye for the eleven woman, then left too.

What was an outside world of sunny blue skies and fresh air faded away within steps. A change in the wind, replacing life with death and gloom. The scent of rotten corpses choked the young man bringing Berlin’s shaking arm to cover his nose. How could this be? His eyes flickered between the corrupted lands of the graveyard and the town. Dangerous, he thought. Why hadn’t they solved it sooner? Undead littered the graveyard, and thus his assignment came into sight. Deal with this and there would be answers. A few coughs escaped into his arm as Berlin stepped forward onto the dead blades of grass. It was time.

Embers sparked and danced among his free hand’s fingertips, the power coming naturally and easily. Yet despite its familiarity, a range of novelty seeped its way in. Berlin shook his head and steadied himself, intensifying the magic into pure flames to which a soft crackle snapped. In the following moments. a fireball was meant to fire from Berlin’s hand when a wicked shake rocked his body.
It must’ve been luck for the little vampire woman began to hop through the crowd of rabble.

“Fool…” Berlin mumbled underneath his breath. The rabble chased after the woman but she kept her head forward, seemingly ignoring them. “Wait.” Berlin attempted to call, yet she was already too far. An issue as she was in fact called the healer, by Quor, and was not recognized to have any sort of combat capability. “First Lesson,” Said Quor, “Do not let your healer come to harm.”

Berlin looked to Quor; Would he save her again? The hero’s closed stance gave its own answer. Berlin dared to look at the other summons... This woman was dead.
The shake vanished from Berlin’s core as the pact born chased after her. Flames engulfed both of his hands as they began to blast undead away. Quick and powerful, he’d dodge one attack and return with his own. Before he’d even realize, a path had been cleared to her, but it wasn’t enough.
A child rabble struck the woman’s ankle, stopping her movement and sending her to the floor. The child had no hesitation, dead was its soul, and it prepared to strike again. Its spade raised then crashed down to the dead grass. The woman evaded the attack, and a lone fireball flew into the child, igniting it immediately.

“This forsaken wonderland's decor is a ruse!! A ruse!!!!” She cried out.

No words came in response from Berlin, his mouth shut in a slim smile. The burning of the undead reflective in his iris, a strange feeling creeping within him, till another word echoed from behind him. Snapped to reality, he made quick work to a few more rabble before he made way towards his group. Of which, the sight of his fellow summonees engaged again in more squabble, garnered an eye-rolling. It was wishful thinking after all.

Mentioned: NyxNightmare , Kyleiria , TheImmortalDeity

 

[HTCOR]

Iain​

A flare of fire brought his dwindling thoughts back to reality, his mind settling back into a combative state- support the front liner, as Iain stepped forwards. Iron spear at the ready, any approaching Rabble were knocked away- runic symbols etching into their bodies upon the location of the strike, glowing a fierce blue. "Berlin, I'll keep them back a little, and give you openings- you feel free to hit anything you think it going to get too close." Each step of his was getting more precise, a jab here- a brutal slam of the back of his spear. Iain clearly wasn't a combatant in the traditional sense, moreso someone who worked as support- but instead of being a back line support, but instead someone who made sure that the foes wouldn't be able to get to the damage dealers.

Each Rabble that came near had a fiercely blue rune etched into the point of contact with the spear- and amusingly enough, Iain never once used the tip of the spear, instead using the weapon more like a quarterstaff. A more brutal slam of the butt of the weapon knocked one's skull clean away- yet the rabble kept approaching. Blood seemed to whisk around, his bloodied handkerchief flicking off remnants of his vital fluid. Each swipe seemed to invigorate him, a grin forming on his face. A rabble that got too close had the spear embedded into it's chest- only for the soft iron tip to be ripped completely off the shaft.

A faint laugh escaped Iain, as his breathing settled into place- most of the rabble around twenty feet away. He'd cleanly knocked most of them back, with very few remaining near. His eyes slowly trailed over to the shadowed grave that stood in the center- before he snapped his gaze away. Best not to invoke the spellwork that seemed to be laid into his eyes, to say the least.

"Berlin, hit anything that has a blue sigil- it explodes on contact with anyone but my strikes. That probably includes your fire." With that, he'd slip back a pace, his now bladeless staff twirling around. Perhaps this would work- perhaps not. But it wouldn't be long before the horde slowly shambled forwards, an olderskeleton charging Iain- only for it's head to be cleanly taken off, and a hatchet taken away from it. The creaking staff was tossed behind him in the direction of the 'lovebirds' of Camila and Hatch, as battle frenzy slowly overtook the human- the ax cleaving through bone and tissue alike. He never advanced, only acting as a defensive position of which his range was dwindling- using the weapons that fell from his foes alongside his hatchet to strike. At one point, he threw a carving knife into an approaching rabble, the blade slamming into their skull as another blue sigil glew brightly around their face.

The battle waged on with bone and brutality.

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

Hatch
​

Impossible. Bewilderment riddled the brawler's face as Quor's scaled hand wrapped around his. Before he was able to readjust for another punch, an unrelenting weight found itself on his shoulders, the leer in the lizardman's eyes enough to paralyze his body in fear. What the hell is going on?! Why am I feeling intimidated by this iguana looking no-name? His arms fell to his side as Quor eased his gaze, Hatch still having tingles reverberating inside of him. The cocky bastard hadn't digest a single word that came out of Quor's maw, but he did feel the need to come out of the scene having the last word. "Huh? You got a problem with me, you ugly- ow, ow, ow, ow!" He was yanked off his feet by the hairs on his head, his scalp burning as he floundered like a fish. Whisked outside of the guildhall, the man did all he could to ensure he didn't end up bald.

Moments passed as the team began to mobilize. Hatch, however, was still stuck in Quor's hold. He had resorted to multiple consecutive kicks in the monster's side, to no avail. His assailant didn't flinch once, and as Hatch began to lose hope of ever escaping, he was promptly dropped onto the ground, rump first. The first thing he did after being freed from his captor was to draw his hands to the top of his head. Lucious hair? Still there. Sexy head? Still intact. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders slumped, finally able to take a moment to regain his composure. That is, until, he felt TEETH sinking into his right forearm. Turning his head down and seeing Camila chowing down on him, he blinked three times. Following her movements with his eyes, he watched as she got up and turned her back to him. Not only had she snacked on him, but she didn't bother to acknowledge what she had done, as if it were a minor inconvenience. Hatch lost it.

"YOU BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH," he roared, crouching down into a sprinting stance and taking off with enough power to leave small craters under his wake. Raising his leg in front of him, Hatch landed the bottom of his foot square onto Camila's back, Sparta kicking her into the dirt. Hatch was left in a fuming rage, his breathing ragged and his features resembling that of a rabid animal. Piggybacking on his own high, he stormed to the battlefield, murder on his mind. The enemies in front of him were nothing more than pathetic bones playing dress-up, unworthy of his time. Yet, he wished to punch something, which was evident from the neurotic clenching of his fists over and over. That was when he saw a fireball rain down before him, and where all of his attention was directed to. Berlin.

Knocking aside Rabble with relative ease in order to get to him, Hatch stood before the magician, his chest puffed out and his hands at his hips. "Oi, albino. How 'bout you test those flames on me?" Sizing him up, Hatch let out a derisive snicker. "Maybe you'll make for a good punching bag for a minute or two," he said, switching into an aggressive stance. "Whaddya say, you up for a small fight to see who's stronger?" Sadly, Hatch had no intention of leaving the opportunity of a good brawl up to chance. Without hesitation, a flurry of punches and kicks came sailing Berlin's way. Each one ended with a small pop, the force enough to make the even the air recoil in fear. "Don't be scared now. I'm only gonna break a few bones!"

HTCOR Kyleiria NyxNightmare Lo Mayn

 

[Kyleiria]

Allara
​

Emerald gaze watched, unamused, as Quor stopped whatever the royal fuckery happening between Hatch and Camila was. It took all of Allara’s immense willpower not to audibly groan in frustration and annoyance. Yet, graceful features remained outwardly schooled into casual indifference. Iron range flickered in her mouth as she bit wickedly sharp tongue. Quor gave enough of a reprimand; there was no need for her to.

Yet when childish pair was picked up by the scruff of their necks like newborn mutts, the huntress couldn’t help the derisive and slightly amused scoff that pushed its way past her lips. As everyone stood to follow, Allara met bright gaze of the albino and she nodded almost imperceptibly. At least he seemed level headed...enough. Languidly, she peeled herself away from the table she’d been leaning against, the last out the door to follow.

The atmosphere in the air thickened as the group approached the graveyard and, subconsciously, Allara’s grip around her hunting knife tightened. The rabble about was numerous, and just as she had begun to formulate a plan to get them to the center as a collective whole, the miserably dramatic vampire of a woman rushed in. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Didn’t anyone actually have a brain around here? As the albino took off launching fire balls, Iain started casting bizarre blue runes, and the wanna-be drunk launched their healer and pounded crater’s into the ground...Allara looked to Quor with an arched eyebrow. None of them were ever going to earn the reward at this rate.

Rabble flooded around and every time one got close, she stabbed at it with her hunting knife. The others were causing enough of a commotion that the undead in the immediate vicinity flocked to them. With an exasperated sigh, she made her way forward. Reaching Camila first, Allara wrenched the vampire up from the ground, fierce green gaze and painful grip leaving no room for protest. “If you don’t cut the theatrics right this second, I’ll leave you to die the dramatic death you’re so clearly begging for. Stay close.”

Ignoring any injuries Camila may have for the moment, Allara hoped the other woman would actually follow and she dipped and weaved through the semi-cleared path the men had created with their obnoxious displays of masculinity. Honestly, did not one of them appreciate fine skill over gross strength? With a huff, her hunting knife slashed and jabbed, each blow purposeful, and only when needed. While the rabble were many, their decay left them uncoordinated, and there were times when the graceful elf could simply dance out of their way.

But as she and Camila neared the gravestone that emanated dark power, more and more of the gross creatures milled about. And like a beast long slumbering, something in the back of Allara’s brain peeked a glowing eye open with a low growl. Movements became a flurry of steps mixed with well timed blows as foot by foot she fought her way to the center, trying to clear a path for the vampire. But, soon enough, rusty blade got stuck in the neck of one, snapping off the hilt with a crack. Frustration at the interruption roared through her and auburn locks swung as violently as the fist that followed and replaced blade, as she whirled to face their stoic “guide” who had remained in the edges.

“You maybe want to tell us...” her smooth voice rang out over the small battle, commanding, as if she had done it a thousand times, “...now what?” Her other arm shot out, elbow landing a blow right in the center of one of the rabble’s face, gaze locking to the storm of power a little ways off. “Oh, and whenever you three decide to stop playing heroes and figure out whose dick is bigger,” cool annoyance ran through her tone and she held back a wince as a rotting fist collided with her ribs, “some help would be nice.”

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

The Rabble
[Enemy]
​

The shambling of the undead farmers did not cease in the slightest. As one fell to a finishing blow, two more took its place. These creatures were killers with no will to call their own, no fear to hold them back. So when the heroes continued to argue among themselves, the Rabble did not impede their march towards them. Granted, a majority of them continued to stay in herds, minding their own business and drifting wherever their mindless feet were taking them; however, as the commotion continued to spiral into chaos, many heads turned towards the origins of the ruckus happening in their home. Eventually, the heroes were being surrounded, even if it wasn't at a quick pace . . .

The ones to gather the largest crowd were Berlin and Hatch, flames and obnoxious screaming (on Hatch's end) enough to wake up the entire neighborhood. As the two duked it out, the Rabble attempted to get in-between the fighting and take out the noisemakers once and for all. At least, that's what they were aiming for. The problem was the crossfire coming from Hatch's GUNS. Every time he missed Berlin, the punch sent a nearby Rabble flying. Enough so that an entire circle of Rabble encased the duo, unable to advance within it without being punched into a new dimension. Whether this was because of Berlin's ingenuity to use his circumstances to his advantage or Hatch's inability to be aware of his surroundings is beyond my comprehension as a GM.

The same couldn't be said for Iain. Excommunicated from the rest of the team, the Rabble slowly made their way over to him. His eagerness to attack their brethren earlier brought about the attention of quite a few undead. Luckily, a single Iain wasn't much of a threat to the Rabble and therefore he didn't gather many enemies, nor did any of them come in hordes. As he continued to place runes on them and batter them down with their weapons, the Rabble gradually began to get swipes in on him. One, in particular, was able to get a good slice at his side and draw some blood. If matters weren't dealt with soon, things were going to turn grim for the strategist.

The trophy for the worst situation had to go to Allara and Camila overall. As the hunter became overwhelmed slowly but surely, the Rabble made sure not to let up. A single fist turned into two, then three, until it was to the point where if it weren't for her evasive abilities, the elf would've been long gone in a sea of decay. As the two women came closer to the grave, the restlessness of the bones grew. They were protecting something, and it became doubly obvious with every step the heroes took. Ironically enough, the Rabble were unable to get close to the gravestone in question. It was as if the miasma flowing from it was too potent for them. Perhaps there was safety in drawing nearer to the center? As to how the champions plan to get there is another story . . .

Leon
[NPC]​

Touching his balding scalp, Leon looked from his window as the town's warriors fought on. Perhaps it was his anxiousness that consumed him, but the old man was aware there was no way he was going to be able to wait until they were done. He had to see their worth with his own eyes. So, leaving his home, he wandered outside with eagerness to his step. Soon enough, he stood next to Quor, his cane nestled into the grass and his vision set on the battlefield before him. It was worse than he thought, and as he went to turn to Quor, he knew it to be true from the look the lizardman was giving. What did those keen eyes see? Was there any hope within these youngsters? He had to ask.

"Quor . . . What do you think of them? Do they have any value or are they hopeless right from the start?" Leon asked, sadness evident in his voice. He wanted to believe in them, he truly did. Was belief enough, though? His hand cradled over the top of his cane, arthritic fingers hurting from the tension of his grasp. "Even Elder Cairos does not approve of what we have done. To think we performed such a sacrilegious act in an attempt to save the town. Have I done wrong, Quor? Am I to blame for all of this rotten luck we have?" He was aware that asking all of these questions were going to lead to nowhere, but he had to vent out his woes somehow.

Sighing, he continued to survey the party as they struggled to finish the mission. The geezer saw mistakes that even a common farmhand like him knew better than to do in the event of combat. Individually, they may have been above average given the circumstances, but as a group, they were downright terrible. "Should we give them some advice? Do you think that'd help? I don't know how you guild-folk do things, but at this rate, they'll surely fail, yes? I'm not going to have paid so much only to see the fruits of my labor die right before my very eyes." Leon turned back to Quor. "What do you think? Should we save them before it's too late?"

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