Fantasy SettleTown, a Dark Tragedy

[Cashdash25]

Iulius sighed, gazing into the darkness, his expression almost, wistful, as memories of a time long past came to him. "It fell from a war of course." He said, "War with Aseroth specifically. It had been heating up for awhile by the time I joined, a border skirmish here, a trespass there. The Legion was headquartered at Aser at the time, our territory stretched southwards to Aselford and north to Elmenel, forming a crude triangle. But of course we had recruitment camps all across the region, Grottstock, Holm's Deep, Aseroth itself, plus whatever followers were scattered across the rest of the continent. Someone in the high command decided it was time and started an uprising, long story short from my eighteenth to my twenty sixth birthdays we were at war, and what a war it was." He smiled, a proud, dignified smile. "I still remember the day we marched to aid the uprising, a glorious sight we were, thirty five thousand Legionaries, fifteen thousand auxiliaries, five thousand cavalry. The largest single army the Legion had formed in half a century we were, with the largest cavalry force in the world to boot! I was just a standard bearer then, for the three hundred and ninth Cohort, one hundred and seventy five of the hardest bastards you'd have ever met. What I wouldn't give to march at their head again, to be that starry eyed eighteen year old, to relieve the glory we found." He breathed deeply. "It was, quite the experience you see, you'd have to have been there to truly appreciate it." He turned his gaze back to the pair with a sigh, "Short answer is we lost, Legionary command got hung, me and the other Aserothian natives got the traitor's brand across our backs for raising swords against the Union, most of the rest got imprisoned or enslaved and whatever was left got scattered to the wind." He sighed sadly, "It was a long time ago. Now we're just a smattering of youngbloods serving other commanders and a handful of old fucks like me too stubborn to let go of the past and die already."

 

[Anaxial]

By the time that SettleTown's mayor had arrived to forcefully take them to dinner, Blakemore was good and comfortable sitting on the floor. However, not wanting to offend his host gracious rose to his feet as he was summoned and with a bit of a somber smile, redressed in his mauve regalia. Of course he reattached the ornate attachments to his iron visage, t'would be rude to force others to gaze upon his frightful portrait as they tried to enjoy their supper.


Unusually polite for a man to have been hired for such a grisly detail, it was debatably off-putting for such a twisted creature to show such refinement. He awaited for his party to be seated before he himself took a seat, wherever he may have landed whomever he was destined to sit by. Upon taking his seat, he silently observed the mayor and his manservant: Mr. Grimm. Though it may have seemed unappealing, he didn't dare complain about a free meal, partially parting the decorative chains that blocked his mouth in order to take his first spoonful of murky black liquid, though he deliberately avoided the drink wine, it poisoned the body, as it clouded the mind. Quiet and reserved throughout his meal, he felt these missions that they had been assigned didn't merit hiring such an experienced posse and the ulterior motives of the SettleTown mayor were brought to question within Blakemore's mind.


Five KingsWorths, far more money than a settlement such as this would EVER need. T'was enough to pay off a small army, let alone repair some walls. The Mayor's possible corruption must be brought to question.





Of course it wasn't long before the fascinating human mind had brought up arguments and rhetoric from the various people in this aforementioned posse. Some arguing the legitimacy of the old Legion, some having no true opinion at all. Blakemore assigned himself on the ladder, the fate of the Old Legion was written long ago and one should be proud of their fellows for facing the abyss and welcoming death. For what truth was there aside from an end? All things begin, all things ends, any other argument is moot. But the one eternal, the one force on this world or another dastardly plane of existence that will never die, is death itself.


"Memories of old are always venerable. Such a Legion would be a fearsome sight I am sure, but their fates are written in stone as is yours or mine. You must find peace in knowing that their strife is over and that they have found true peace within the embrace of the One." Ever elegant in his wordplay and tone of voice, both respectful and driven. An invisible smile formed beneath the chain covering his mouth but he gave the old legionnaire a faint nod as acknowledgment.


"If it calms you, o'legionnaire... I can assure you that they are no longer in pain. Adversity and existence are one in the same, you see. Now that their existence is done, their adversity has left them as well."

 

[Nepty]

Ezzion nodded to his erstwhile companions as he shambled off back to the house they'd been put up at. He looked around the place as we walked. Better off getting some rest.





There couldn't be more than a hundred families here at the very most, and likly only half that. The vast majority of the houses were empty, and a fair few were falling apart. Lights shone out of several windows. Ezzion had already noted that no house with people in it seemed to go without candles.


Above the houses and beyond the palisade the dark, murky woods drank in the black night. The pine trees crowded close together like mourners at some rich man's funeral, whispering in the wind.


He shut the door of the small room behind him as he entered, and lit a candle in the window. Best to follow local example. As he took off his daycloths and wedged his sword under the mattress where he could easily draw it if need be, he climbed into bed, thinking of the beast's skull. He was taking that head, and damned to the one who tried to stop him. A lordshare was money Ezzion would kill for. He had too.


He tossed and turned under the thin blanket that night, trying to banish the old incident with Tellrog from his mind. The pork had reminded him of Aser too. Silently, Ezzion cursed the mayor's generosity. He just had to bring old wounds to the surface again. He didn't like to think about past problems.


Eventually, the memory of Aser grew too stark in his mind and he sat bolt upright, swearing to himself, and threw on his cloak. Ezzion stepped gingerly over a few sleeping forms, when had they come in? and stepped outside. The night had grown darker, and many candles had burned out.


By the time he had found a water barrel, Ezzion's former good mood had soured. filled his canteen, drank deep, and spat it out, trying to clear the memory from his mind. What he would give for wine to dull his thoughts. "Not my bloody crime," he muttered. At least none of the others knew. And they wouldn't, if he could help it. It had been three years since it had happened in any case, and anyone else who'd known of Ezzion's crime had been hung when the city fell. Ezzion wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Your bloody fault." He rinsed his mouth again. Finally, he could take it no longer and unbuckled his belt. He sank to his knees, chewing furiously on the leather, knowing full well that if anyone saw him he would be taken as completely mad.


Finally, he felt calm enough, and the leather had supplanted the memory enough that he could rise to his feet. He looked at the sky. the moon, half-hidden behind clouds was falling towards the horizon. It was late. Ezzion scowled and went to find his ink and paper. He would draw some, and then go to sleep. It always helped him think, drawing.

 

[Cashdash25]

((Presumed to be taking place after Ezzion left))


"There is no peace waiting for a Legionary in the afterlife." Iulius said turning to face Blakemoor. "Only the High Legion's tribunal, waiting to judge them." The children of death were always a strange lot, obsessed with maiming themselves and each other, but Iulius knew from experience their skill in combat, this one was unlikely to prove different. "My brothers had the glorious honor of dying in the greatest war in generations, and me? I survived, survived to die not in a great conflict, but it some pittiful skirmish against beasts or bandits." Pride filled his voice as he finished, "I don't mourn for my brothers, I envy them. The ones I pity, are the ones who will come later, never to have seen the glory of the true Legion."

 

[Klimino Zepehphor]

Night, a time of bliss and sleep upon most towns, but for SettleTown it was when, despite the thick heat of summer a strange, icy grip fell over the forest, chilling one to the bone without a lick of true coolness to be found.


It was when more, not less, sounds could be heard, of creatures dark and sideous, eyes glowing in the dark, watching the men on their stone wall, hunger clear.


More then once a man would fire at something, whether in madness or to drive something off, no one felt the need to check over a single shot anymore.


Yes, night belonged to the forest, a time when one took to standing in the light and hoping and praying to their gods to see just one more sunrise.


Worse still, no one dreamed well in SettleTown. The Forest poisoned the mind, turning even the most blissful dream into a nightmare.


Most learned how to fall asleep dreamless, through medicine or practice.


It would be a long night for the newcomers.


<><><>


day came, slowly, but with it the sour mood of the darkness seemed to let go more then less, letting the world return to one of man, though the sounds remained in some lesser form.


It was just before the first light broke the treetops that Mr.Grimm slammed open the small house that was the sleeping quarters of all but Zander(who he had already awoken and sent to breakfast), giving quite the wakeup speech.


“alright you fucking maggots, up and at em! Your leaving as soon as possible, so fill yer damn bellies with whatever gruel is for breakfast and pack whatever your bringing with you n the damnable trip! We got a few canteens and some dried rations to handout, but I wont damn grantee you anything on the the count of what we can actually spare! Now up up up I will drag you out if you aint up by the time your supposed to leave and trow you out of this place with naught but your under garments!”


with that he turned, and like any true gentlemen, left the door open.


In their own time, everyone would move up and out into the morning air. According to the server in the INN, who was handing out dried fruit bars and glasses of milk for breakfast, the Mayor was too busy to send them off.


When asked about the supplies, he pointed them to a shed house to the left of the Gate, which was where all the food was stored. There, they met Don Buttnik, the Carriage driver again, manning the place.


“only got enough for 10 days rations fer each of ya, and 3 Gallons o water per person. Forests got more then enough ta eat innit, and ill be taking you lot along tha road til we catch a sign of that damned missing shipment so thall save ya a few days. Heh, if yer lucky maybe ill catch ya on yer way back.”


with a shrug, Don set aside a set of supplies for each of them, and after brushing himself off, locked up the shed.


“meet me at my carriage by tha gate when your ready to go.”


he said and walked off.


(send me a list of what supplies your bringing with you, or list it at the end of a post here. Keep in mind without the Carriage for the long term, you can only carry what will fit in your Travel sack or Backpack, plus whatever might fit on your body)

 

[Nepty]

Ezzion yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He'd clandestinely caught an extra dozen ClockTolls of sleep since they'd woken up.


He clambered aboard the carriage and wrapped himself in his cloak. He'd already put on all his armor, with all his clothes underneath that and was pleasantly warm in the early morning chill.He pulled the hood of his cloak over his eyes and within minutes, was back to snoring. His episode the other night was all but forgotten, bar the deep toothmarks on his belt. In his pouch, his latest piece -an ink sketching of Settletown itself- had been stuffed, along with all the rest of his artwork. For now though, he slept, determined to sleep through at least half the ride.


Equipment Brought


1 pair of clothes (trousers pants smallclothes, socks)


Cloak and hood


Water: In canteen


In Haversack


Supplied food


Blanket (bunched up)


Flint and steel


5 pages of paper (rolled up)


ink and quill


2 torches


9 feet of rope (coiled)


5 feet of cloth bandages (coiled)


Armor


FullIron Helm


Leatherwood chest


FullIron Gauntlets


Leatherwood greaves


Bouncer Sheild


Longspear


Knight’s Sword

 

[Clockwork Syringe]

After heading over to the breakfast hall early due to Mr. Grimm waking him up early, politely thanking him as well, most likely to spare him from the loud speech he was going to give, and probably because Zander was here before this group, Zander started to eat his breakfast. He was enjoying a good fruit bar when all of a sudden, his tranquil thoughts were rudely interrupted by Mr. Grimm's incessant yelling. He could only garner bits and pieces from the tirade, but the main idea that Zander figured out was that Grimm was lecturing the new members that this was going to be a tough mission and he'd personally drag people out of bed if they didn't wake up in time. Zander silently chuckled to himself as that would be quite a site to see and decided to make a note of what he was going to bring with him on this trip. Armor, weapons, and ammo were a necessity as without them he'd be a sitting duck and not of much use to this new group of people. He figured that it would be a smart idea to bring some extra food just in case something happened that would cause a delay as well as his medicinal herbs figuring someone was bound to get hurt. After looking through his list he also decided to add his compass, a change of winter clothes, and one blanket with him just to be safe. Packing everything carefully. He wrapped his compass and herbs into the blanket before placing it into the backpack as well as his length of rope and 5 extra rations for emergencies. Zander then equipped his armor, placed his cheapshot pistol into his left boot, placed the quiver of arrows over his back as well as slinging the longbow over his back as well. He then hooked his longsword onto his left hip and placing his gunpowder horn and shots into the pockets that he had added to the leather armor before arriving at SettleTown. Fulfilling his list, he climbed into the carriage sitting next to the man in armor who was starting to fall asleep again. Zander made a mental note to not wake him as he probably hadn't gotten used to Mr. Grimm's antics yet.


Armor and Weapons:


Hunter's bow


Leather chest piece


Leather gloves


Leather Greaves


Cheapshot pistol


10x Cheapshot rounds


longsword


10x Hunter arrows


Horn of gunpowder


Backpack:


15 days rations


Canteen of water


1 blanket


1 10ft length of rope


Compass


5x Medicinal Herbs

 

[Cashdash25]

Iulius chuckled at Mr. Grimm's display, memories of long dead drillmasters floating through his mind. The man would have made a good Legionary he decided after a few moments of silent laughter at the displeasure of his, less militant, companions who were not used to being roused so abruptly. Though he did note that his own reaction speed would have disappointed his old comrades, too long gone from the barracks, he had gone soft in his age. Silently cursing his weakness he gathered his gear and the supplies set out for him, scarfing down his breakfast before joining the others at the carriage. "Wake up sellsword." He scoffed at Ezzion, "I'll not be having anyone here be injured because you were too bleary-eyed from your nap to fight."


Armor and Weapons;


FullIron Chest


Gauntlets


FullIron Greaves


LeatherWood Roundshield


Short Sword


Long Spear


Supplies;


Travel Sack


12 Days of dry rations.


3 Gallons of water


Mayor's map


6 Torches


Flint and Steel


6 Feet of rope

 

[Anaxial]

Having resumed his meditative position in the center of the room, Blakemore didn't stir at Mr.Grimm's loud barking. Scowling beneath his mask, Blakemore couldn't help but wonder what gave such a squalid man the right to speak to them as though they were the common servant. For the time being, Blakemore remained still as a statue, sitting in the center of the room as the others eventually made their ways out. Once the others had filed from the old decrepit Inn room, Blakemore exposed his body to the open air and let his tortured hide breath the cool morning air before he donned his regalia and packed up his Equipment.


Eventually making his way to first meal, Blakemore ate his fill of dried fruits and calcium rich milk. He needn't carry much aside from the essentials but was eager to finally get on the road. However, Mr.Grimm's insolent behavior would not go without reprisal. Assuring his decorative pieces to his mask were properly aligned and he appeared decent enough to present himself to newfound comrades (a generosity NOT extended by Mr.Grimm) Blakemore approached the bulwark of a man and proudly set his foot strong.


"You're a grown adult, Mr.Grimm so I won't lecture you." He began, his eyes behind the mask met with Mr.Grimm's, whether he could see it or not. "But I will remind you that YOU requested OUR assistance. We are not slaves or servants for you belittle. I will trust you will watch your tongue the next time you summon us or I will firsthand demonstrate how a Child of Death handles disrespect." For the first time since his arrival, Blakemore's voice took on a dark undertone that better matched his grotesque and uncanny appearance. Even if Mr.Grimm was larger, Blakemore's words would perhaps strike fear into a Lion. He didn't give Mr.Grimm a chance to reply, turning his coat to the man and joining the others for their first expedition.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Armor and Weapons-

Cloak and Hood


Rain hat


Mud boots


Metal Mask of Death


Scalemail


Warhammer



Supplies-

Three Torches


Flint and Steel

Backpack-

Blanket


Quill and 3Oz of Ink


10 Loose papers


7 Firewood logs

 

[Melissia]

The huntress prepares for the mission, trying to travel lighter than some of the others while still packing essentials.


In backpack:


10 days Rations


2 Gallons of Water


1 Blanket


10ft Rope


Medicinal Herbs


Bandages, 3ft


Compass


Small hatchet, skinning knife, shovel from tool set


Worn


Set of clothes


Half Boots


Brown Cloak and Hood


Shortsword


Leather Gloves


LeatherWood Chest


LeatherWood Greaves


Hunters Bow


Quiver:


15 Hunters Arrows


5 Knightslayer Arrows


2 Spare Strings

 

[admiral9]

The morning was a great time, it was the start of something new, it was the opportunity to once more go into glorious warfare and it often meant you had something to eat.


Heraklius had always liked the mornings and didn't have allot of trouble gathering his equipment for the mission


"Good morning friends, Sir, is this not a great morning for us to go to battle? After all how do you know a man until you've fought with him!" Heraklius clearly recharged from yesterdays shameful occurrences but still boisterous as ever greeted them all again when they arrived at the carriage.


Shortly after this greeting he spotted his beloved rifle though, abandoning any pretense of pride he rapidly made his way to retrieve it and checked if there were any superficial damages to its cleanly polished body.


After a sigh of relief he finally actually entered the carriage taking a seat next to Ezzion.


Armor and weapons


Set of clothes


Sun hat


Full iron chest


Leatherwood greaves


Leather gloves


Short sword


Long lock with bayonet in pouch


In backpack


1 Pound keg of gunpowder


1 Horn of gunpowder


2 rifle longrounds


10 rifle rounds


Medicinal herbs


1 feet of bandages


3 pieces of flint

 

[The Glass Ninja]

Oleander let the warm cloak of sleep surround him as he listened to the gentle breathing of his comrades. The walk back through settletown had been one fraught with staring into shadows and holding his blades close. His fear, uncharacteristic as it was, seemed to speak of the forest around him and its darkened eves – its horrific creeping roots and crackling twigs.


Sleep was a welcome solace, even in the corner. Even on an old cloak and under heavy leather. Even as dreams found him.


----


It had been storming awfully in Toln for the last few weeks, sheets of needle thin rain hammering down on the roofs and hats of the city’s folk. The rich in their gaudy palaces with creeping cobble beneath buckled shoes and bright doublets grumbled and whined about how the gods of the Triangle must’ve been displeased to have cursed them with so unpleasant a helping of weather. Of course, none of them said that last bit out loud. It never helped to make the gods even angrier when the rain was running down your spine and the lightning was blinding your eyes. Unlike the rich in their high streets - close to the centre of the city - the poor of the Empire’s capital toiled and marched beneath the oppressive downpour with not a sound between them. Huddled under a red awning behind the tiny rented room his mother was currently sharing with a squad of guardsmen, Oleander sat, toying with a little wooden sword. ‘The nice man’ – the one his mother called ‘J’ – had given it to him the night before to occupy him while they had a ‘talk’. But he knew his mother, those eyes of hers hadn’t done their usual flutter and there had been no coin exchanged between the two. That meant there was an actual conversation involved and from how long it took young Oleander took that to mean it was full of nuance and not the usual fake passion his mother peddled. The young boy kicked at the mud in sudden rage, his shrill voice a growl as he kicked out at the mud. He knew he hated her. He knew it in his heart that he truly hated his mother. When she had found him with the sword she had seized it from him and slammed it into his chest and legs, knocking him to his back where her cruel feet found small fingers and crushed them mercilessly into the dirt.


She always stopped short though. Never landing that final blow to the skull that would send him spiralling off into the darkness to see if those gods he had heard so much about really existed. Last night though, had been the worst. Cursing him for a demon she had struck and struck till he lay weeping and red faced from the welts of the toy. The pot she had kicked at him, full of boiling water, had left a blistering red mark on his thigh – like a great many of the other burns he had collected over the years, he knew it would scar.


A few fingers pinching the bridge of his nose helped to remove the pain that still lingered in his face and the old lady down the street had given him a foul smelling salve for his leg. It had worked near wonders, he supposed – the red mark didn’t hurt him anymore. It was simply the fact that his own mother had done such horrific things to him which burned his soul. Was it not her duty to love him? Was it not to him that she should have her loyalty? Why had the gods not struck her down in the lightning storms that had plagued them for these last few weeks?


Hate was a powerful thing, and it drove him to stand, swinging his toy sword hard against the long post that held the tenting of his alcove up. Barely registering the snap of wood on wood, he stumbled back against the wall and lay. Eyes streaming with tears and face screwed up in the midst of tantrum and unadulterated hatred. The door opening to his side was as much of a shock as the heavy hand of one of his mother’s ‘guests’ grabbing the small, gangly boy by the throat and smashing him painfully against the wall. “I hear” Slurred the voice of Terbirus, the legionary who had tried so hard to recruit him into their ranks “That that scum bounty hunter, Jaque, wants you over giving you to the legion”. The words stank of wine and fury, the grip on Oleander’s throat tightening. “Well, you and your whore mother are weak”.


The knife Terbirus was holding gleamed sharply in a flash of lightning, the roar of thunder deafening them both. Oleander flushed with fear as he felt piss dribbling down his leg, and he kicked and cried out for help, his boots bounding off of the Legionary’s cuirass. “Ohh, the little rat fights back” slurred the drunk soldier, his knife slipping up and pressing hard against the boy’s throat. The hot rush of blood down his front made it clear that the fragile skin holding back the flood had been parted. Being dropped was a strange sensation with blood flowing down your chest – the shock set him to shaking. The boom of thunder sounded once again, but this time it was different. A thud sounded by his side, and a new warmth spattered across his face. The next sensation around him was the warmth of a pair of arms and the whispers of a soft accent. The hissing and prickling of a flame thrummed in his head…


And he awoke, beneath his traveller’s coat, his makeshift bed beneath him. He hissed quietly to himself as the dream slinked from his mind, glancing towards the legionaries in the party. Their presence must’ve brought the memory to the fore of his mind and chilled him with these nightmares. Gathering his supplies, he stood and donned his coat.


It wouldn’t do to let them effect his mind further. The carriage, however, gave him a space to find solace inside – throwing himself down beside Ezzion, he pulled his cap over his eyes and tried to calm his roiling mind.


Equipment list:


Clothing:


1 set clothing (worn)


1 set mud boots (worn)


Travellers coat (worn)


Rain hat (worn)


Leather Gloves (worn)


Armour:


Scalewood chest (worn)


Scale hood (worn)


Leatherwood greaves (worn)


Weapons:


Long spear


Ironwood roundshield


Knights sword (Belt)


Duellist dagger (Belt)


Hammerpick (belt)


Long pistol (Bandolier)


3 throwing knives (Bandolier)


Other:


Backpack


2 spare flint


Powderkeg


10 pistol rounds


10 days rations


3 gallons water


Lantern


1 gallon lantern oil


9 ft length of rope


2 ft bandages


Medicinal herbs

 

[Nepty]

Ezzion turned to his right, shifting in his armor with a muttered "Bugr'f" at the legionary's insistence he wake up, and went back to sleep. It was far too early to be worried, and he knew from experience he could be up in a moment. There was no need rob him of his sleep before they all went gallivanting off into danger, that was just a recipe for disaster. By the time he'd thought about this, Ezzion had forgotten it and was back to snoring.

 

[Klimino Zepehphor]

“eveyone in? Good.” Don snapped as he whipped the regins, sending the 7 newcomers out yet again into the forest.


“keep yer eyes peeled fer any signs of dat shipment, otherwise ill be dropping you off near enough to where we suspect that big ol beast is lurking.”


hours went by as the traveled slower across the shoddy road, eyes constantly peeled on the outside world for any sign of their target and its whereabouts.


Little was seen, though Oleander did spot a suspicious rabbit but it was not worth investigating.


A hour or so after lunch however, as the sun started letting its true heat down through the trees, Heraklius spotted something glinting upon the side of the road, something golden he swore.


As the Carriage pulled to a sudden stop and Don let everyone pile out, the group slowly approaching where Heraklius swore he and seen it, weary of how close to the forest they truly were.


Finally, after perhaps much more caution then necessary, they arrived upon their target. A glinting, marvelous KingsWorth sitting in a pile of what was clearly once something wooden of human origins.


“well, thats probably one of em.” Don said as he casually approached the scene, piking up the golden cube and inspecting it.


“oddly good condition....hrmm.....well, this is as good a spot as any ta drop ya lot off at.” looking up and into the woods, he was silent a moment, as his head slowly tilted.


“well...damn.” he said, pointing slowly.


Sure enough, barely visible in the darkness, was half of a wooden Carriage, sitting half hanging in the vines of several trees.


“wonder what couldve fucking done that....” as everyone simply stood and stared for a minute or two, suddenly Don grumbled.


“fuckin hell, go check it out, ill wait a moment, see if you lot dont find anything else of value fer me to take back.” another moment “well git going you shites we dont got all day.” he said, actually physically waving his arms for the group to head into the forest.


After a moment of Iulius calling for a tight formation, the group entered into the forest, undergrowth pulling at their leggings and pants as they, for the first time, entered into the abyss of the darkness.


Each step, darkness covering more and more, its thickness almost like a syrup as it grew thicker and thicker. Somehow not even fifty feet in they were traveling, yet already the world was different, sinister.


As the group neared the Wagon half, not more then fifteen feet left to go...suddenly, the darkness moved.


Three, large shapes suddenly turned, so dark one could not make out their fur against the darkness. Their eyes however, as they turned eyes glinting yellow.


The group stopped suddenly, staring at the beasts. They hissed, and pulled away from the wagon, teeth bared and clearly ready to fight.


Oleander, suddenly, realized he recognized the beasts, mildy.


“fucking...giant...shadow rabbits....”


with that, the fight began as the beasts pounced.


INITIATIVE ORDER:


3 Large, bigger then humans “shadow” rabbits


Basically everyone else is even more or less.


Map of Positions, letting you guys choose your own starting spots.

 

[Melissia]

Rodea had her bow drawn the moment the group came across the carriage, and strung it and had an arrow out moments later. A bear might be able to do that kind of damage, if it was enraged, she thought to herself, trying to put reason in to her mind as to what would happen, but even that was doubtful.


And then she saw what DID do it.


Rabbits. Giant fucking rabbits.


The fuck?


It actually caught her off guard for a moment, but when one locked eyes with her, she pulled her arrow back and aimed, just as the beasts pounced towards the group.


[ Put her to the rear and on the left flank, use a brown dot. ]

 

[Clockwork Syringe]

Zander had an uneasy feeling as he came across the carriage, so he drew the hunter's bow he had since he was 18. It looked as though it was a hit and run attack against the carriage, but the attackers soon came into view. Zander looked closely and was surprised to see giant rabbits of all things. If anything, they could roast em for food, provided that the group could kill them. Zander nocked an arrow and prepared to take action.


((put me on the right flank to the rear since I'm a ranged user mostly.))

 

[Nepty]

"Spear line!" Ezion grunted harshly, "On me, Oleander, my left, I'll take the right, Blakemore, if you would be so kind as to take the far left." Anything that got within the big moorlander's hammer reach would be paste, Ezzion could only hope. He hefted his spear and braced his sheild as he heard Heraklius and Rodea shuffle behind him.

 

[admiral9]

"Glorious combat my brothers! Is this not a great time to be alive?" He bellowed as the monsters came into sight.


Heraklius wasn't particularly stressed, just an ambush, he'd fought before and time taught him that this was just one of many occurrences, atleast he wasn't killing his fellow humans for once.


Already holding his trusty longlock in his hand he took position on the groups back flank and prepared a round, optimally he wanted to see if he could wound one of the creatures with a direct hit.


(Left flank on the back.)

 

[Cashdash25]

"Skirmish line." Iulius corrected Ezzion as he stepped warily forwards, keeping a spear's length between him at his companions. "A tight formation negates our numbers advantage." His voice was calm, collected, the thrill of the fight, the anticipation of bloodshed, sharpened his mind and senses. His orders were loud and clear, "Spears to the front, keep their attention focused while the others outflank." Spear clenched firmly he bashed his gauntlet against the rim of his shield he shouted an oath, trying to draw the beasts forward.


((Center front))

 

[The Glass Ninja]

"Fucking...giant...shadow...rabbits" Oleander grunted, hefting his spear and shaking his head for a moment. That was goddamn ridiculous. The bounty hunter moved to the left of Ilius, recognising the skill in the old man's words - he would take one of these beasts and make sure it'd be dead.


(Front left)

 

[Nepty]

Ezzion held his tongue. Tight formations were defensive multipliers. Senile old fool. The advantages from loose and tight formations here would result in the same, only a loose formation might break. Ezzion braced his feet. The archers and Heraklius depended on them, and Ezzion, holding the thinnest portion of the line, resolved not to fail them. Any other thoughts fled his mind when the rabbit leapt.

 

[Anaxial]

Discovery of the destroy cart and the fallen KingsWorths so early on in their campaign could be mistaken for a Godsend, but a Masochistic Son of Death would know better. With everything around him happening so quickly, Blakemore didn't have proper time to indulge in his strange fetish and was off-guard at the start of the fight. In-fact, one could say he was lethargic in nature and had no interest in the fight whatsoever. Regardless, Blakemore heaved the War Hammer into both hands hands and flanked to the far right, a tight formation might fit a line of spearmen and few rangers, but it was no place for the wide swings of a War Hammer and an unshielded ally.


(Red Dot as far left as possible)

 

[Klimino Zepehphor]

as the Front Guards Iulius, Orleander, and Ezzion all attempted to raise their shields to block the leap of the Shadow rabbits, it became apparent as the creatures soared over their heads that they were not the first targets.


The left most one however, was not a lucky bastard. Just was it was landing behind Orleander, a gunshot was heard and it let out a yelp, just as an arrow then pierced its eye.


The thing toppled over, though was still moving, clearly alive before Blakemores hammer came down on its skull.


This was just before both Rodea and Heraklius were knocked off their feet as the Shadow Rabbit who had overjumped Iulius slammed into them, sending them flying and continuing on its path.


As for the right most one, it received a good arrow from Zander, but it was not enough to do more then slow it down. Though Zander was able to avoid its bulk he was still forced to roll out of the way.


As the group reformed to take the second charge from the creatures, Blakemore suddenly noticed something...disturbing happening.


“by the one....” he said, as the Shadow rabbit he had killed, which he swore its body was moving, suddenly was ripped open, and two smaller, more rotten and skeletal versions of itself exploded out, one jumping at him, though he was able to smash and end it.


The second however, rushed sideways for the downed Rodea. A quick call allowed for her to drew her melee weapon but still forced her into a brawl upon the ground with it, the thing seemingly having no organs or any significant flesh for her to stab for.


INITIATIVE ORDER:


The Two charging rabbits are the fastest


Iulius, Orleander, Ezzion, and Blakemore are the next fastest.


Zander and Heraklius, both getting off the ground, are next.


Rodea is stuck in combat with a Abomination rabbit so both are last.

 

[Nepty]

Ezzion bellowed, and slammed his visor down over his face, bulling past Zander, pushing the smaller man behind him, and jabbing outward at the nearer shadow creature with his spear. He kept his distance though. He didn't want it to break open and vomit forth hideous little mockeries of itself, so he jabbed at it's eyes with his spear, hoping to either blind it or drive it off. He checked his right, hoping that Heraklius was fairing better under the old man's dubiously useful protection. He swore under his breath. If they'd kept a closer damned formation, the rabbits would have landed among their line warriors, and this unpleasantness could have been avoided. He didn't say anything though, as always.

 

[Melissia]

No flesh to cut in to, but at least the sword had more heft to it than an arrow or dagger, and the steel was far harder than mere bone. Rodea struggled to pin the beast down as she was furiously assaulted. The scratches were painful, and she hoped not diseased or poisoned. Before long she was rolling on top of it and steadying herself as her legs pinned its "arms" down so it couldn't scratch her, and started wailing on its skull with the sword to try to destroy the bone structure, hoping that managed to stop it... not being able to keep up with her plan of shooting it in a vital area, she had to swap to a "just wing it" plan, which she clearly didn't think out quite as well as she should have.