Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Ascendancy [IC] [CLOSED]

[joshuadim]

Near the town of Zarburg, Schwyz

As the great powers of Adonia sent tens of thousands of thousands of their soldiers into meatgrinders and landscapes both cratered and charred from relentless shellings, the landlocked nation of Schwyz had remained untouched from the horrors of this new era of warfare. One could even imagine that no such war was occurring outside its borders by looking at its pristine mountain ranges and deep, verdant valleys. Life went on as it usually did for the towns and villages of this country, kept safe by its neutrality and insistence on remaining uninvolved in the grand affairs of its neighbors. The villagers and townsfolk remained concerned and interested in developments of the outside world, yet were detached from the sufferings and horrors that were unfolding on the battlefields. The only images they had were those printed on the papers, delivering headlines from Atraca, Daristein, or Escaria to those that were interested.

In the small town of Zarburg, nestled comfortably in one of the many valleys of the region and in the shadow of the great Cervihorn Mountain, the children hurried off to school as the bell rang from their schoolhouse, and the townsfolk went about their daily business. A milkman delivered bottles to each doorstep before heading to the next town a few miles over, the artisans opened their workplaces and continued to craft goods by hand in stark contrast to the industrialization that was becoming commonplace in the neighboring countries, and a lone constable walked through the stone paved streets that had been put in place only about a decade ago. Yet through all this idyllic setting, something else was stirring up above the town in the peaks of the valley it inhabited in. A small gathering of robed men and women from all across the continent were convening at a small, weather-worn circle of stones that had been placed centuries ago, nestled in a thick of trees that graced the landscape up there.

It had not been used in many years, but in these desperate times such things were being brought back in order. Particularly, a conclave of the Grand Masters of the Raven Court was beginning to take root. And those who weren’t Grand Masters were there as well, such as Jonah of the Escarian Sanctum and Hayley Payne of the Atracan Sanctum. The air was tense, and filled with many differing attitudes towards what had transpired since the start of the conflict on Adonia. And this was signified by the first words spoken to the quorum at large: “Why have you called us here, Grand Master Harald?” an older man with a rather long, white beard asked aloud in a thick Tsavanian accent. “Surely there are better ways to talk than bringing us out… here?”

“As I’m sure you know, Grand Master Plikov, the reason is quite clear.” Harald replied, in his own Nivardian accent. “The Arsenal Magus is wrong to keep us out of this conflict.” Such a brash statement immediately brought forth a chorus of jeers in opposition as well as yells of approval.

“Who are you to go against the edict of the Arsenal Magus!?” an Atracan woman then shouted, “Who are you to go against our rules and traditions!? We do not interfere in these petty conflicts-“

“But this is not just a conflict!” another man yelled out in a Stiusilian accent, “It’s death and destruction on a scale we’ve never seen before! Countless lives are being lost while we sit on our asses!”

From there, the meeting devolved into a shouting match between the opposing sides as they went after one another with words, drowning each other out into a cacophony of anger. Only Jonah and Hayley remained silent as they stood near the back of the meeting and watched with varying feelings as to how the Raven Court was devolving before them. The former shook his head in disbelief: “Fools. Damned fools the lot of them. Just as useless as politicians and bureaucrats are.” Jonah commented to Hayley.

“It took a lot to even convince them to hold this moot.” Hayley replied to Jonah, her blind eyes somehow scanning over the event. “Harald would never had agreed to this had Nivarden not been invaded by Tsavania-“

“But is that not the problem?” Jorah cut in quickly, furrowing his brow. “Half of them are too afraid to go against the Arsenal Magus and the other half only want to intervene for their own countries. And a grand total of none of them seem to care that there’s a bigger problem at play here.”

“You mean the bindings?” Hayley asked.

“It’s only a matter of time when Taranoch returns to the mortal world. When, not if. The world would not survive a Second Age of Darkness should it come to pass.”

"On that, we are agreed mes amis." a voice then spoke up from behind the two, causing both Hayley and Jonah to twirl around to see a hooded man with a familiar cloak of raven feathers draped around him. For the latter, his mouth went agape from shock for but a moment before recomposing himself as best as he could. "...Venextos? But how-" he started to ask until he saw that he was wearing a necklace that was for one specific purpose, answering the question that was on his mind. Hayley herself, if she had any, hid her surprise well as she crossed her arms. "Took you long enough." she spoke with sarcasm, which prompted a smile from Venextos.

"Ah, good to see you both as well." he remarked with a soft smile, before looking outwards towards the gathering that was continually fighting amongst themselves and shouting at one another. He frowned deeply at such distasteful discord between his fellows and shook his head. "Looks like there is much to do here." he commented as he took a step forward to approach the gathering. He was quickly stopped as Jonah stepped in front and placed a hand on his chest, looking at him with concern.

"This is not a good idea, last time you were nearly expelled from the Raven Court... and now that you're here again it might make things worse." Jonah spoke, warning his friend as to what might happen. But Venextos only smiled from under his hooded visage and chuckled.

"Mon ami, what I have to tell will perhaps change their tunes."

 

[K0mori]

At the Gates of Erebos
​

As Azathor's mages continued in their fight to secure the tops of the battlements, and his best warriors brought sword and mace down on anyone left guarding the exteriors of one of the city's few gateways, Mariette and Neroph bore witness to the righteous vengeance of the wraiths. Annen had told them during the planning stages that a summoning ritual would take place which would greatly assist in the initial assault, and once the two demons caught sight of Tiloc drawing in the blood of several hundred with her strange dance, they knew that they were at that critical moment. "We should make the most of this summoning," Neroph suggested. "If we can trap the enemy in this quarter, then whatever rises from that lake will have just that much more to devour."

Mariette nodded sharply. "Go and spread the order to push the fools into this corridor and then rejoin me. I'll close off every avenue of escape with curtains of fire, and that will give our soldiers time to rest before the gate is pried open. But that will leave just me and you..."

"That's all we'll need, witch," Neroph replied, smoothly. Mariette gave a sly smile and gestured for Neroph to hurry. He took to the air and began to locate as many officers as he could to relay the order. Soon, magical flairs were being deployed across the breadth of the grand army as it rotated in on itself, attacking the vastly-outnumbered wrath demons and pushing them in towards the central pathway leading to the city gates. As they did so, the ground began to shake and groan as something massive began to rise from the lake of blood. Mariette watched in awe as the blood worm emerged, looking back at the battlements in hopes that Knasus would somehow have returned in time to witness the havoc. Although he wasn't there, she suddenly had an idea, and made a mental note to return to where they had landed just before Neroph arrived.

Meanwhile, on the far left flank of the grand army, Xager and her detachment struggled to find their way to the heart of the action, but, unaware of which pathways were safe, were forced to proceed more slowly than they had wanted. The enemy had left behind bombs and other traps, and isolated, desperate demons of wrath fought with the courage of despair. Xager was now the only thing standing between them and escape from this hopeless situation, and while it was true that they relished every opportunity to spread pain and misery, they would have greatly preferred to redeploy to the inner city, where they could hope to last longer and spend what was perhaps their final hour accomplishing something of value.

On the other hand, all of Xager's current accompany were also demons of wrath, and were causing far more pain and enjoying themselves much more than their foes could possibly match.

They came upon a wide trench that snaked its way through the desolate city, etched away by the damned who had known something of mining or stonecutting in life. Now, it was filled by thousands of them, cowering with their masters hiding among them, as Xager's platoon dropped in from one side. At once a lone demon let out his final battle cry, swinging a morning star at Talger, the ash grey demon with one eye, who effortlessly deflected the spiked ball with such force that it completely disarmed him, before cleaving him in half with her battle axe. As his upper torso slid off his abdomen, cries of terror filled the air. The crowd ebbed away from Xager's path, bringing forward several other wrath demons to face her and her detachment.

A tall male demon with a bastard sword, named Janar, took an arrow strike to his shoulder as he stepped up beside Talger. He gripped the shaft and yanked it out of the wound, grinning madly and pointing at the coward who let it fly. He was standing on the opposite edge of the trench, and froze for a moment before sprinting away in terror. "Go on and run, then!" he taunted the archer. "I'll just have to take it out on your friends." He wound up with his bastard sword, swinging its ebony-colored blade at his next-nearest foe. The enemy demon tried to block the attack with his own blade, only to be knocked entirely off his feet from the force of the collision. While Janar turned and impaled another demon with the blunt end of his sword, Mazron, another of Xager's few, crushed the first foe's head with a boulder she picked off the floor of the trench. She brought it down several more times until the demon's head was blown apart into a paste-like mess.

"Like a bloody coconut! Damn, Mazron, I love the way you fight!" howled Tokol, yet another in Xager's service.

Mazron wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm and grinned. "Then why don't you try it for yourself?"

Tokol stepped forward, returning her grin as he scraped his massive brass knuckles together. He was nearly as wide as he was tall, his bronze arms bulging with muscles that twitched with his every movement. "Because I can do this," he said, setting his eyes on another lone and terrified wrath demon before breaking into a sprint. The enemy wheeled backwards and attempted to cut through the crowd, only for Tokol to leap over their heads in a flying punch that impaled the body through the demon's back. Tokol then jammed his free hand up against the base of his foe's skull before jerking the other back and ripping the wrath demon's spine out of his body. The remaining wrath demons broke into a full panic as they scrambled to get away, choosing to run toward the heart of the battle for Erebos rather than trying to get past Xager's unit.

For her part, Xager had simply sheethed her sabers and watched in quiet amusement. She walked alongside Talger at the front of the group before leaping up the opposite side of the trench, moving like an implacable omen through the empty city street. Behind her, the others surfaced as well- Talger, Janar, Mazron, Tokol, Julzen, Brazeth, Gonak, and Driguch. There were nine in total, but they might as well have been 99, an elite unit hardened by furious warfare. As they neared the true battle, they felt the tremors and paused, watching as Tiloc's serpent rose over the rooftops in the distance.

There, Neroph landed beside Mariette, having returned from his rounds to find that she had placed herself into an almost trancelike state, with violet smoke and reddish sparks spawning in the air about her. "I'm here, witch," he said. "They'll be closing in any moment now." True to his word, the sound of battle grew larger all around them as the army funneled the enemy into the killing field they had established. Of course, the faltering wrath demons resisted with all of their might to be pushed toward the giant blood worm, but it was growing more futile by the moment. Hundreds were herded onto the central pathway, until all that remained of this first line of defense stood before them.

"C'est bon," Mariette replied, darkly. "Avec moi, mon ami. I need your protection."

Neroph nodded, drawing his sword once more as Mariette began to levitate and fly down the street toward the enemy. She raised her hands as they erupted in hellfire once more, and she fired one blast after another into the alleyways and side streets. The outskirts of Erebos became a narrow valley between two walls of fire, and the stranded enemy force looked upon the serpent like a crumbling dam, the deluge of death and destruction that awaited them now inescapable. A select few able to fly made one last desperate charge at the witch, only to be cut down mercilessly by Neroph's blade. A moment later, the blood worm overtook the lieutenants and barreled toward the city gate, leaving nothing of the enemy force aside from their echoing, agonized cries, and a smear of crimson in the eroded ground. The serpent reached the great doors and slammed into it with such force that it broke down the barricade and threw open the gateway to the invading army, annihilating its own body in the process.

"I'll rejoin you shortly, Neroph. I must attend to something," Mariette assured him as she darted off along the base of the city wall. The fires she had created began to dissipate behind her, and the grand army began to file forward toward the opening. Most of the defenders of Erebos laid beyond, the majority being demons of greed who called this city home. Neroph worked to arrange them into a battle formation, placing the heavy troopers of Azathor's forces at the spearhead, but it was doubtful that it would be enough to break through on its own, as the narrowness of the gateway negated the grand army's numerical advantage. Mariette returned a moment later, with what appeared to be a bolt of cloth in her arm. Annen soon joined them in the air near the gateway. "I'm ready. Let's rejoin the mages and figure out where Knasus got off to," Mariette said.

"Mariette, you've misplaced a horn," Annen teased.

The witch reached up to her remaining horn and gripped it tight with her gauntlet before breaking it off of her head with a wince. "...Voila," she replied, having rendered herself symmetrical.

"They'll grow back eventually," Neroph assured her with a chuckle as they ascended high into the air for the next phase of the battle.

Down below, Xager and her eight followers crossed through the smoldering debris at the edge of the roadway and overlooked the devastation. Xager took stock of the battle's course with a nod of approval.

"Looks like they could use us at that gateway," Talger observed, stating the obvious.

 

[Infab]

Back in the Mortal Realm...


The wooden dock rattled as the ramp for the ferry dropped down onto it, the driver having let it down a bit too fast. Thankfully, the loud noise didn't spook the horses that the group were riding on. They disembarked shortly afterwards, two at a time, and walked along the dock towards the fishing village that lay at the end. Which, oddly, seemed mostly empty. Likely those that lived there had traveled to Porthcrawl in order to better protect themselves from the war.

"I genuinely hope we're not going to have to take any more boats." muttered Cassandra, as they stepped off the dock onto soft, well traveled dirt. "Afraid of the water, Cassandra? Didn't seem to bother you before." was the response from Claire nearby.

Cassandra shook her head. "No. I just get tired of having nothing to do but stare at open water." she stated a little louder, turning her head to look towards Claire.

"You'd make for a poor sailor." stated Claire, smirking before drawing out a map. Rebecca, nearby, looked to it and noticed it was a map of Grimtham. Expertly sketched as well, with little markings and scribbles notating what lay where on the large island.

"Alright," said Claire after a moment, "We head north from here to Tresomin. There, we locate a man by the name of Jayden MacKie. He's one of the descendants of the pirate Maxwell 'Grape Shot' Barr. One of the more well-traveled pirates, having bounced between dozens of crews. Was fond of the blunderbuss. He eventually retired from piracy, and settled down here on Grimtham. The man kept a journal that Jayden likely still has."

"I'm surprised he wasn't captured and executed." commented Rebecca. Claire shrugged. "He was captured a few times, if I recall, but always seemed to slip away during transport." she stated, as she tucked her map away.

Rebecca soon looked to the others, and motioned towards the north. "Let's get moving, then. To Tresomin." said the Saint, taking the lead with Claire close behind. Cassandra soon followed, trotting along behind them.

 

[Dmaster]

The huntress enjoyed the ferry ride quietly as she looked to the stretching waters around their vessel. Partway through the trip she decided to have a seat, having grown tired of standing about for so long as the others seemed to spend the trip quietly. Though they weren't bickering nearly as much at this point, it had made for a nice respite as Camille once more thought on their mission.

Upon hearing Cassandra's complaint, Camille could not help but scoff as she made her way off of the ferry behind Claire and Rebecca. "Are you afraid to be alone with your thoughts for a single moment, ami?" she asked the pureblood brazenly. "Were I in your place, I think I would have such fears as well. Though regrets may require a conscience you're lacking."

When Claire drew out the map, she huddled close to get a look and better understand the lay of the land. "We can only hope that this descendant was not careless with our only potential lead," the noblewoman stated before the call to move was made.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Another ferry for the wary inquisitor. It is always like this, even as an unaffiliated hunter. The wait stretched out passed the eye can see, just like these waters. Much of a hunt (or as it pertains to this situation; relic hunting) is the preparation that follows the battle (or the quintessential discovery). Gather the tools, the manpower, the location, the most effective method and then travel. The travel is always most arduous, it is also why they were attacked or attempted to be interceded at that town. Many believe the protection that mobility provides is unassailable, but Rajko knows they are wrong. Periods of boredom and idle activity dull the senses of man, no one can be forever vigilant against unseen threats. Especially when their senses are devoted to the excessively long road ahead of him.

His contemporaries spent their ferry ride relatively quiet, a small victory for Rajko as he finally found the time to smoke his sedative herbs in peace. But that was then and now, the boat ride is over.

Rajko heard Claire's hopeful statement, he smirked unconsciously. "If only that were true, people get quite... Relaxed over the years. Especially their descendants who often time don't know what it is that they have." He shrugged. "Perhaps, we'll have the ones who weren't so lazy with their offspring and themselves."

 

[joshuadim]

Azathor had remained quiet as the ferry made its trip towards their intended stop, taking a look at the sights of Grimtham. Though, rather than enjoy the beauty of the island his mind was instead scanning for any potential danger on the waterbanks to see if there was another ambush potentially awaiting them like what had happened on their train ride. There was no telling when the next attack against them might come, and so he couldn't afford to rest. He had plenty of that on the warship on their way over to the isle.

For now, things seemed to be quiet as nothing out of the ordinary was seen. Once they had docked at the fishing village, a quaint little place with people going about their simple lives, Azathor followed closely the conversation at hand as to what they were looking for and where they were to travel with next. He took his horse by the reins and led it off the vessel with the others. "Well, having something to go on is better than nothing. Otherwise we'd be looking for a needle in a haystack... so the saying goes, right?" Azathor then spoke up, "We should also be on the lookout... there's no telling what else the icons might have planned to get in our way."

 

[Breadman]

Royland tried to meditate though the journey onboard the ferry, but couldn't concentrate. There was something stirring both in the Abyss and in the Mortal realms and it intervened with his attempts to focus. War was never a time of calm for him, but something was different this time around. Something weighed heavy in the air and in turn it felt like there was something pulling on his neck. Lacking any means to pass the time, he instead maintained vigilance, trying to catch any threat that may appear, but it never came. There was little chance Sazak would let the Saint continue without harassment. Or perhaps he was a step ahead of them already.

"We mustn't discount the possibility of Sazak getting to the man before us." The knight said as they disembarked on to the village "His agents could be crawling all over the island as we speak."

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian yawned, having grown a bit tired and stiff from the long boat rides. "I guess we'll find out when we get there," he said. "If the demons already got to the man, he'll be dead, no doubt about it," he said with a shrug. The ambush they had encountered on the train had been very clumsy in its execution. If their enemies planned to try again in Grimtham, Sebastian figured that they would either be just as unsubtle as they had been before, or they would have learned their lesson and laid a trap they were all doomed to fall into. But either way, there was no use for Maxwell to be left alive if he had already been found and forced to divulge his secrets.

 

[Infab]

"Indeed. We should prepare for anything." stated Rebecca, glancing back to those that spoke. Claire also nodded in agreement. "Perhaps, if you were able to capture one of the demons, you might could interrogate them. That's if we find Jayden dead, of course, and the demons are still around." said the vampire.

"...And if they aren't?" asked Cassandra.

Claire shrugged. "Then we're going to be doing a lot of traveling. Cove to cove. And it'll be far more likely that the Icons will get the artifact before we do." she responded.

Through the night they journeyed, only pausing to pitch camp once enough of the group had become thoroughly tired due because of travel. Once the morning came, they continued on. And as they neared Tresomin, Cassandra found herself detouring briefly to a familiar location. One that both she and Camille were all too familiar with.

The Bristol Estate. What was left of it, anyway.

The building had burned to the ground, leaving nothing but charred remains where it once stood. It didn't seem as though anyone had bothered to try and clean the area up, beyond moving the bodies and burying them nearby in a makeshift cemetery. She sat upon her horse, staring at the ruins of the large mansion. Her mind once again traveling back to the events that cause years prior that lead to it burning down. To Mariette, Valeria, Aleister, Camille, Rosanna, and the others.

And herself, at that certain point in time.

It was a fun night, you have to admit. One of the rare times we got to dress up all nice and fancy.

Yeah. It was a fun night, really. A lovely party, so many guests. And I really liked that suit. Could have done without the derby hat, though.

Mariette looked beautiful, too. She still does, horns and all.

Yeah. Remember how Valeria and Rosanna looked? Probably the only time I ever saw them both in an actual dress.

Indeed. Shame all the nice clothes had to get ruined. But, it had to happen. What came after was far more fun! All the blood. All the violence. All the death and chaos!

And that's when when Cassandra finally noticed it. Out of the corner of her eye, propped against one of the oak trees nearby to her left. A woman, with pale skin and long flowing blonde hair. She was clad in an exquisite dress, colored a bright purple with traces of silver, gold, and white scattered throughout. It reminded Cassandra of a gown that one would wear to an extravagant ball.

And there was also red. A large splatter of crimson red across the upper chest, running up the neck and ceasing in a smeared mess at the mouth. The same red covered the arms and hands. But a brighter red was just further up, two hellish orbs fixed in a pair of eye sockets. Locked onto Cassandra as she sat on her horse.

Cassandra turned her head towards this woman, a look of intense fear washing over her face. Oh no, not this again. Please tell me this is a nightmare.

The woman's head tilted slowly, but her eyes never shifted. Never breaking from Cassandra's own terror filled ones.

Oh no, sweetheart! You're wide awake.

The words flowed forth from the woman's lips, striking even more terror into Cassandra's silent heart. And it was for but a simple reason.

The voice was her own. The woman was her.

But another voice spoke up behind her, making Cassandra jump. She almost fell off her horse, but managed to keep herself righted as she looked angrily behind her.

Claire had come to find her, her eyes narrowed and locked onto Cassandra's face. One hand resting on her saddle horn. The other hand tucked into her coat pocket. Cassandra could make a pretty solid guess as to what she was holding inside it.

"I said what are you doing, Cassandra?" asked Claire, her tone as serious as her expression. Behind her, some of the others.

Cassandra's response was blunt. Angry. "Reliving my fucking glory days. What do you think I'm doing?" she spat. She glanced back, towards where the other her had been sitting. She was... gone. Something was very wrong with her.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge between her eyes with her gloved fingers. "... I just... came to see if anything had been done about the estate. You know, since it burned to the ground? There were several people inside. Outside too. And it looks like that was taken care of." she said softly, before pointing towards the makeshift graveyard nearby.

 

[Breadman]

"According to Theodore's report, this was a key point in the Inquiry's search." Royland stepped forward, walking past Claire, but his focus was on the graveyard instead of Cassandra "The shrewd scholar only implies of events that he regrets in it. Not outright mentioning anything that would incriminated him in the eyes of those his superiors at the time. Likely something to do with his own knowledge in necromancy. Never was a good liar, that one." The knight looked to the graves individually. "Most here are at peace. The air is heavy with anger from those who's life was cut too short. A priest should tend to them."

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou had largely kept to himself during the ferry ride, doing as Azathor appeared to be doing, watching the passing sights, though he was able to both enjoy its beauty and keep an eye on incoming threats, given how in-tune he was. He largely kept his responses to nods, as the next steps were outlined by Claire and leading the charge with St. Rebecca. As he followed the others who began conversing, he could feel the spiritual energy emanating here stronger than ever before - was it Royland's seemingly-disconcerted emotions stirring within him for none to see? Was it the underlying feelings harboring within Cassandra that only grew as they went inward? Or perhaps were they approaching a place of past relevance to current affairs? Who knows?

The hermit continued his floating behind, keeping an eye as they pitched for camp, and continued on in the morning, the oni going through his standard procedures. And as they continued towards their destination, the feelings he sensed within Cassandra only grew - he was amongst the first to notice the vampire detouring.

As they approached the ruins of Bristol Estate, remembering what he had read about the affairs of that night, he could sense the importance of this place... no wonder were emotions stirring. Looking over at the graveyard, he felt a bit of sorrow, even knowing what mixture of people were present that night. As Royland said however, there were restless spirits here.

Nodding in response, he spoke: "If restless spirits are not dealt with, they could grow dangerous. I could, at haste, utilize a ritual from my lands to possibly calm them, but if they are not receptive to foreign rituals, it could worsen their current state. One of your priests would be best for this."

 

[Dmaster]

Camille caught Cassandra's detour out of the corner of her eye, slowly skulking along the path to make sure that the pureblood was not up to anything. The huntress had been paranoid about her actions before, but now that Claire had trusted her to keep a lookout on her behavior she was trying to be even more vigilant than before. Yet it did not take the noblewoman very long to surmise where the vampire was going, her suspicion quickly dropping once the familiarity of the site washed over her.

Unaware of whatever internal struggles Cassandra had been dealing with as she stared on at the remnants of the estate, Camille also stared at ashen carcass of the grand building. She could almost picture being within those halls, the expansive ballroom she kept a watchful eye on, where she saw Mariette slip away and become a pureblood. At that time, Camille was prepared to throw her own life away to prove a point, to show that no matter what transpired she would never lose faith in herself and her capabilities. She was uncertain if she would make such a brazen and suicidal stand now with everything she had to live for. And yet, here she was, a mere human hoping to stop the unrelenting tide of demons that threatened to take all of it away from her.

"Ah, glory days. I suppose that's one way to put things," Camille stated, not meant as a slight given that she carried no smugness to her tone. "There is not much to tell. Deals were struck, lines were drawn. Theodore suggested something... unconventional to try on a pureblood's head, an effort to keep them alive without the threat of a true resurrection. Valeria decided to go a different route." Much like the scholar, the huntress seemed intent on omitting certain critical details of what transpired in the estate.

She breathes a sigh and shakes her head. "Despite the events we still found a way to push on to complete the task at hand, simply because of everything that was at stake. And they are even higher this time, oui? Let us hope we get things right this time."

 

[Breadman]

If restless spirits are not dealt with, they could grow dangerous. I could, at haste, utilize a ritual from my lands to possibly calm them, but if they are not receptive to foreign rituals, it could worsen their current state. One of your priests would be best for this.

"Aye. Your intentions may be well placed, but the rites of the dead are best left to those who know how to administer them." Amidst everything, Royland had felt appreciation for the foreigner among them. A better change of pace to he had to admit.

There is not much to tell. Deals were struck, lines were drawn. Theodore suggested something... unconventional to try on a pureblood's head, an effort to keep them alive without the threat of a true resurrection. Valeria decided to go a different route. Despite the events we still found a way to push on to complete the task at hand, simply because of everything that was at stake. And they are even higher this time, oui? Let us hope we get things right this time.

"Lady Giguere, lets not play games with each other." The knight was quick to return to his earlier disposition "I am fully aware of Theodore's unconventional thinking and where he draws it from." He turned his head to face her "I was not aware that involved a resurrection of a pureblood, however." He was silent for a moment as he tried to think of which pureblood it would be. The list wasn't exactly long and one of their kind was with them at present. "But you are correct that the stakes are higher now. No reason to dwell on events and suspicions of the past. Theodore was offered amnesty and he took it while providing us with a plethora of information since then. The Lady had rendered her judgement and I am to follow."

 

[Infab]

It wasn't long before Rebecca spoke up, moving her horse over near the site of the makeshift cemetery. "...I shall see that a priest is sent from Tresomin to perform the necessary duties here. If there is one. If not, I shall venture back here and perform them myself before we press on." she stated, looking down from her horse at the graves. "The anger needs to be quelled, lest the spirits of the dead rise as specters."

"Yeah, and they'll come after me." said Cassandra, cutting the saint a look. "I was one of the ones that had them killed in the first place. Better to put them to sleep soon before they become an annoyance for all of us."

Rebecca didn't respond, simply looking in Cassandra's direction before turning her horse about to face Claire. "Shall we continue on?" asked the saint, as she approached.

Claire nodded, glancing to Cassandra and the others. "Hopefully we don't take any more detours on the way. The sooner we find our friend Jayden, the closer we'll be to your amulet." stated the vampiric enforcer. She soon turned her own horse about, the Mustang silently moving with the tug of the reins. Then, back up the trail they went to the main road.

Cassandra followed at the back of the pack, her mind having ventured back to the younger her back at that tree. A dark omen. Something was indeed wrong with her, and it was starting to show.

An hour of riding passed, and the group soon found themselves moving throughthe outskirts of Tresomin. From what Camille and Cassandra remembered of the town from before, it had changed little in the past few years. Maybe one or two new houses, more faces moving about. For the others, it seemed like a quaint little town. Far from the frontlines, and still alive as compared to the fisherman's village they arrived in after taking the ferry.

Once inside the town proper, Claire paused near a horse hitch. "I believe we should split up. Ask around, see if we can locate where Jayden lives." she soon stated, looking about before pointing to nearby buildings. "Tavern, gunsmith, general goods store, pool hall, inn. Divide and conquer, ladies and gentlemen."

Cassandra snapped out of her minor trance, glancing towards one of the buildings Claire pointed out. A one story building, wider than most of the other buildings around it. 'McCarthy's Pool Hall' marked a sign just above the double door entrance. "I'll take the pool hall. Would anyone care to join me?" she asked.

Rebecca shook her head, pointing to the three story building down the street. The Inn. "I shall question the fine individuals at that establishment. I'll also check with the church I saw on the eastern side of town. Perhaps he's a Gods fearing man."

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian audibly snorted when Cassandra asked if anyone wanted to join her. Just an hour earlier, she had been concerned that her own bloodstained past would lead to the vengeful dead seeking her out. "I'll see if I can find him or any of his friends at the tavern. If they're not too hostile to a foreign agent in their midst, I might even have a drink while I'm there, lords know I've earned one..." He turned his horse about and set out for the tavern.

 

[Dmaster]

Lady Giguere, lets not play games with each other. I am fully aware of Theodore's unconventional thinking and where he draws it from.

Camille rolled her eyes at that, exasperation clear on her face. It faded once the knight was inclined to agree with her on their current mission, yet it was still weathering her visage somewhat. "The way I see it Monsieur Boivin has enough to deal with as is. It won't be my place to incriminate him if he's made efforts to avoid being branded a heretic or some other nonsense by the Church," she answered. "Yet you've just told me otherwise, so I suppose that is just me being overcautious as I tend to be."

With her bitter reminiscence of this place and the events that stained it she had completely forgotten the mention of vengeful spirits. Cassandra's worry of being pursued by them was valid, yet Camille was uncertain if that was a fate that Rebecca should spare the pureblood from. There was no question about whether or not Cassandra was deserving. Out of respect for maintaining order in the group, the huntress withheld commentary.

Upon entering Tresomin Camille twisted her lip over how little things had changed. She was not sure how to react, as there was a certain comfort in stability and familiarity. Yet she felt as though the events of the inquiry were a century ago, despite that very much not being the case. Much has happened and changed, so it was a a slight disconnect she was struggling with.

"I'll accompany you," Camille answered Cassandra before she started to lead her horse to a place to rest.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The Warbat of the Inquisition rode silently alongside his companions, neither daring to engage in trivial conversation or comment on anything specific. His newly-bonded companion, Leofwine, trodden on the soil beneath them with his rock-hard hooves, punishing it for the length of travel that they had to endure. Their path snapped to a pause for a brief respite though Rajko would've preferred greatly if they continued, he understood the value of acquiescing to the needs of others. They wouldn't tarry in their motley campsite for long, as they took off towards their destination of Tresomin. Thankfully for Rajko's sanity, the droning travelling soon concluded as they reached the cusp of the place.

Cassandra mindlessly, or perhaps hypnotically, trailed away from the group. Rajko's eyes honed onto her like an eagle stalking a prey animal. Rebecca and Cassandra then word-danced between each other, one proclaiming to petition a priest to sanctify this eye-sore of a place while the other feared that the long-dead would shatter their chains that freeze their bones around and punish her for a hitherto unknown deed. Rajko wished that he was smarter so that he may peel back the layers of darkness that entrapped them, but for lack of ability he would settle on them telling the truth. Eventually.

They entered Tresomin soon after this, being greeted by quaint houses and the unmistakable stain of homeliness. Despite the vulgarity, Rajko thought this would be a picturesque place to put away his rifle and blade when his body would begin to fail him. Claire instructed them to separate and seek out any trace of their artifact holder. A sigh sneaked passed Rajko's mirror-white teeth. This seemed a bad idea, but in the absence of sensible ones Rajko followed along.

"The gunsmith is mine." said Rajko, tying Leofwine's reins. "I'd suggest not lowering your guard, but I don't think I need to warn you." Rajko split off, but managed to hear Rebecca's last remark. "We're all God-fearing these days, Saint." Rajko's voice edged with sarcasm as he pointed up at the sky.

 

[Breadman]

Royland followed Rebecca as they entered Tresomin. The town was given a short description in the report and it shows that it earned it. There was nothing really remarkable at a glance about it. Same town one would find all over. The event that transpired not too long ago was what set it apart. On the list of places they would visit the knight thought for a short time where he would be needed. While he would accompany Rebecca towards the inn and church, there was other places that need to be checked.

"I'll head to the general store then."

 

[joshuadim]

As the group entered Tresomin, Azathor found himself admiring how... quaint it all seemed. It felt as though the war had never happened by just looking at how people went about their business here. Such simple lives, and the simple joys that come from it had a sort of appeal to Azathor, yet he knew that it was completely oblivious to any transient events transpiring elsewhere and thus ultimately could not be something he could desire. It wasn't in the cards for at least the foreseeable future, and so Azathor directed his attention to other matters. In this case, it was investigating where their next lead would be at.

Azathor shrugged as he dismounted from his steed nodded his head towards Cassandra, "Lead the way." he stated, joining the pureblood and Camille to the pool hall. He had heard about pool, but never had to opportunity to actually play it or see it in action. Even if they didn't find anything there, maybe he could cross something off his bucket list.

 

[Damian0358]

Entering Tresomin, Xiaòzhou could not help but appreciate the apparent peace present here, a reminder of what's been lost with this war and why they need to ensure its end as soon as possible, lest even this peace is lost too. But once their next plan of action was raised, the hermit found himself somewhat concerned.

"...while splitting up may aid us in finding info faster, we mustn't forget about the possibility of Abyssal agents arriving here sooner than us. So please everyone, keep your wits with you and if trouble arises, make it known," he remarked as a reminder, echoing Rajko's sentiments.

As everyone decided on where they would head, the oni's initial thoughts concerned themselves on whether he would end up heading somewhere by himself - if the restless spirits from earlier could possibly reject him due to his foreign nature, he worried the same could be the case here with the living too. While he needn't worry about that by the end of the process, he did note another concern: Rebecca, Sebastian, Rajko, and Royland seemed to be heading out by themselves. Given the possibility of the scenario he presented, he considered whom might need a second pair of hands with them. He briefly considered Sebastian, concerned for the man in such a scenario, but noting Claire's gaze, and thinking how it might not be a good idea to have the two obvious foreigners by themselves, he considered who else might be a good idea.

"...I will go with Rebecca then. It would be inconsiderate of us to have you investigate two places by your lonesome," the hermit spoke. Despite his newly-acquired gun, he feels as though those at the gunsmith would notice his awkwardness in such an environment, and Rajko should be capable enough to handle himself. Royland certainly seems like he should be able to handle a mere store just fine, even if it means he'll abstain from observing his 'inner conflicts' for a time. And aside from it all, he'll try to keep an eye on all from a distance when possible.

 

[Infab]

Once everyone had decided on which building they would choose to investigate, Claire made her own choice. "I'll go with Sebastian. Might dissuade some locals from attacking him. Since, you know, there's a war on and that accent of his clearly isn't Atracan or Escarian." she stated, before giving her Mustang a pat on the neck and walking after Sebastian.

Rebecca watched her stroll away, keeping a brisk pace as she followed after Sebastian's horse towards the tavern, before turning to look at Xiaòzhou. "Shall we proceed?" she said, giving him a smile before turning herself and moving towards the inn down the street. Her armor clacked gently with each step, boots leaving shallow imprints in the dirt path.

As for Cassandra, she wasted no time in venturing towards the pool hall. Camille could easily catch up with her, and Azathor was already hot on her heels himself. Honestly, she hoped this would quell her thoughts for a while. It'd certainly give her something to focus on, and perhaps a game of pool might help it even further.

--- --- ---
​

The pool hall turned out to be quite spacious inside, with six pool tables and ample room for people to move about each. A small bar sat to the rear of the building, likely not as well stocked as the tavern a few buildings away but equipped to handle those that would be playing. And it seemed there were three games currently ongoing. One in the center near the bar, and two on the right side of the building. Only the two on the right seemed to be actual competition games, while the one near the bar was a simple boredom game as only one person was playing.

As Cassandra and Azathor (and soon Camille) entered, they looked about. Taking in the general look of the building and its patrons. The floors seemed to be well maintained, smooth wood planks of a lighter shade so that they could be seen compared to the dark mahogany pool tables. The three stools at the bar matched the tables in color, while the bar itself seemed to match the flooring a bit more. Cream colored wallpaper covered the walls, with a matching chair railing traveling around the room. Brass lantern-shaped chandeliers hung over the alternating green and red pool tables, with three currently dim lights fitted to each.

The patrons varied in appearance. The one playing alone looked younger than the others, and was dressed in a more relaxed fashion as well. An almost yellow shirt, with black suspenders holding a pair of grey trousers. A matching grey bowler hat rested on the corner of the pool table, likely belonging to him. The others nearby at the other tables were older gentlemen, both dressed more like land barons. It made sense: the area around Tresomin was rich farmland. These gentlemen likely owned a few of them, and were probably raking in the profits. Only reason they'd be here among the middle and lower classes would be to flaunt it.

The bartender, a man of middle age with salt-and-peppered hair and a curling mustache, was resting against his bar. Arms folded and observing the younger man as he played his little solo game. His attire was typical of the trade: a simple white button-down shirt and black trousers. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, revealing a tattoo on his left forearm. A large nautical star. Perhaps this was McCarthy, who's name was on the sign outside.

Cassandra glanced back to the others. "Well now..." she said softly, "Shall we chat up the fine gentlemen over there? Or go for those less engaged?" She then pointed to the younger man, and the bartender. "They seem like they'd know Jayden moreso than the blue bloods."

--- --- ---
​

The first thing that Claire and Sebastian would see as they entered the tavern was a man fall off his stool at the bar and hit the floor. Spilling his beer in the process all over the bar's counter. "A bit early to be that drunk." muttered Claire, glancing to Sebastian. It was the middle of the day, after all.

The tavern looked like most others, with tables scattered about where one would sit to enjoy booze and light meals. At the moment, they were barely occupied beyond a few people playing cards and a waitress wandering between them. The bar had three people at it, though it was now two with the guy that had just hit the floor (whom the bald bartender was now tending to.) The wallpaper adorning the walls around the large room was a dull red, with light colored wooden chair railings and molding on the ceiling and floors. A large chandelier hung in the center of the room, which would be bathing the room in light from its numerous bulbs during the night.

The floor, light wooden planks adorned with large square pieces of carpet here and there, had a few loose boards and some off-coloring thanks to beer stains and what appeared to be dried blood in a spot or two. That's certainly a good sign, thought Claire. She then nudged Sebastian. "Stick close. In that uniform of yours, I'm sure you'll draw the far less friendly types. Though we'd probably already be in a fight if you were dressed like a Tsavanian." she stated quietly, glancing towards some of the men that were playing cards. They were already looking towards them, giving them rather hateful looks.

"Bar." she said afterwards, motioning towards where the bartender had returned. The drunken man on the floor was getting up slowly, digging in his pocket and drawing out a few coins and placing them on the bar near where the bartender was cleaning up the spilled beer. And afterwards, the drunk slowly made his way towards the door past Claire and Sebastian. Clutching his head with a hand as he walked.

--- --- ---
​

The journey to the inn was a long one on foot, but it allowed for Rebecca and Xiaòzhou to take in the sights around town. Quaint little town, much like the one Rebecca was from long ago. Though obviously more modern. Her's had been far more humble, surrounded in meadows and rivers, back on the mainland. They received a few odd looks from citizens moving about, whom Rebecca replied to with a simple wave and a smile. A simple, peaceful greeting.

Once at the inn, they stepped inside to find a rather simplistic front room and desk. Behind it, a thin man in pretty typical clothes for a clerk. A pair of thin glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, a fountain pen in hand which was moving along a page before him on the desk. Likely a ledger of some sort. A doorway sat to the left, leading into a more open room. Rebecca, from where she stood, could see a couch or loveseat through the doorway. Likely a lounge for travelers.

He soon looked up, his brown eyes bouncing between the two of them as he adjusted his glasses and set his pen aside. His hands moved to his medium length hair, slicking loose strands back out of his face. "Ah! Sorry! Welcome to the White Stag Inn. How may I help you?" he said, his voice bearing a flair of sophistication as he spoke. This man was obviously not from Grimtham Isle. Probably somewhere down on the mainland.

--- --- ---
​

The general goods store was surprisingly small and slightly cramped, despite what all was contained within it. Shelves stocked with a variety of goods, both canned and dry, and there seemed to be one of those new types of refrigeration rooms in the very back behind the stock room. How the owner of the establishment had come to afford such a luxury was unknown to Royland, but it would prove useful for keeping certain goods cold and sustainable. Milk, eggs, and semi-fresh meats. Inside the store were several women, whom seemed to be doing a little mid-day shopping and gossiping. The store owner himself, a man whom looked barely older than Sebastian, moved about. Checking through items on the shelves, and selecting certain ones to hand to a woman that was following him around like a lost puppy. Behind the counter, a young boy was moving items about. Likely the shop owner's son.

Meanwhile, Rajko found himself stepping into the small gunsmith's shop. Inside glass cases and mounted onto racks around the room were a variety of weapons, ranging from single shot pistols and rifles to more modern weapons like bolt-action rifles, pump-action shotguns, and even semi-automatic pistols from the east. The owner of the shop, whom was sitting behind one of the cases and inspecting the disassembled parts of an older model break-action revolver, glanced up and smiled. "Welcome to my shop!" he said, his heavy Escarian accent coating every word thoroughly, "Please, have a look around. See if anything catches your eye! I have the largest selection of firearms on the isle, outside of Peltragow of course." He ran a brush through the barrel of the revolver, before continuing. "I also offer tuning services for your weapons! Alignments, cleaning, parts replacements..."

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian was accustomed to the coldness he was shown by the bar's clientele, having already experienced it in Eternis during the preceding months. He had to remind himself that if any of these men were as badly drunk as the one who just staggered out the door, then they might be belligerent and wouldn't easily be calmed. Miserable-looking men publicly falling into their drinks in a dimly-lit room wasn't a sight he was accustomed to. Back in Daristein, pubs tended to be lively places; often as not they'd be outside under the trees, and the patrons would moderate themselves. Instead of an airy Biergarten, these men apparently preferred stale fumes of hard liquor and cigar smoke.

Sadly, this environment wasn't entirely foreign to Sebastian. He was familiar with mean drunkards thanks to his father, who would spend many late nights at home numbing the pain of his ruined marriage and the stressful life of a traveling salesman by filling his veins with fire and then breathing it all out at his son. Thankfully, he didn't have to learn how to fight from his dad; the army taught him that. But as long as those unpleasant memories lingered in the back of his mind, Sebastian wouldn't be comfortable drinking unless it was somewhere well-lit and cheery. His reprieve from his travels would have to wait.

They stepped up to the counter. Sebastian's boots clacked loudly against the floorboards and he made no effort to step lightly or show himself as a coward. If anyone were to confront him, he knew how to keep his back straight and take their abuse without cracking. "Bartender," he said calmly, but firmly, "as ludicrous as it might seem, my friend and I have come to Tresomin on behalf of the Church. My name is Sebastian, and this is Claire. We're looking for someone who may be in serious danger."

 

[Dmaster]

Camille tied her horse someplace suitable before respectfully patting on its neck, following Azathor and Cassandra into the pool hall. It was a somewhat cozy scene, as she had not really expected to find such an air of relaxed play in these turbulent times of war. In truth she felt the temptation to play the game herself, as she had not played billiards in quite some time. Typically she busied herself with intense training and left herself little time to relax and be merry.

"Best to talk to the bartender or the solitary fellow there, I think," the huntress stated as her eyes pointed to the individuals in question. "It is for the best that I do not interact with what I assume to be the noble and wealthy. I can see myself falling into older habits, as it were." Before she became a vampire hunter, Camille's favored form of entertainment was seeking out wealthy braggarts at gatherings and riling them up into dueling her. More often than not things would end up quite bloody, and looking back on it as an older woman she could not help but feel embarrassed over how juvenile the practice was. She had always been seeking ways to prove herself, and in many respects she still was.

Disembarking from the presences of the demon and pureblood she strode up to the table and placed a hand on one of the borders, watching the man play."Bonne après-midi," she greeted him with a calm nod. "I suppose you are just getting some practice in? I get the feeling many of the patrons here bet on their skills."

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou found himself somewhat reminiscing over the past hundred years as he and Rebecca made their way to the inn. He recalled his first arrival, the culture shock experienced, and retreating into the countryside as he had done back home. Learning the lingua franca of the land as he spent a time bouncing from home to home, in quaint villages and modest towns which resembled Tresomin. Even the stares he saw the two of them receiving reminded him of those early days, prompting him to do as Rebecca did - smile and wave.

Xiaòzhou hadn't spent much time in inns in Adonia, only entering a few out of necessity, as he could just as well just rest in the wild. The interior was simple, but quite suitable for its purposes, especially given it is merely three stories tall. Soon enough, the man at the front desk noticed them, and greeted them. He briefly glanced over to Rebecca, before speaking.

"Apologies for any inconvenience, but we are looking for someone and wanted to inquire whether you or anyone staying here may be familiar with them," the hermit began simply, glancing back at Rebecca to have her continue, just in case; the man may well be more willing to listen to the particulars from her than him.

 

[joshuadim]

Upon entering the pool hall with Camille and Cassandra, Azathor immediately remarked to himself at how relaxed the scene was as well as the faint overtures of cigar smoke that filled the air from its past and present patrons. Though in this case, they were not patrons but rather passersby to find someone. Cassandra remarked over who to shake for information, and Camille suggested towards the lesser clientele and the bartender. Given her reasoning, Azathor was inclined to agree as he gave a nod to the Escarian woman and turned his attention towards the bartender. "I'll take him then." he spoke, walking off towards his quarry for questioning.

Though he was rather out of place in the scenery given his armor and own weaponry, Azathor nonetheless tried to blend in as well as a horse could in a gala as he approached the barkeep and spoke to him: "Greetings. I don't suppose you know about someone named Jayden, right?" he asked rather bluntly and straight to the point. He hoped that being honest would help his chances at getting something out of the man.