Fantasy The Night's Hunt ~open~

[Brendanfp]

Centuries ago humanity was plentiful. Their race had claimed territories the stretched far and wide across a nameless land. While the humans were an ever-present part of the world, they were not the only occupants of this land. In the shadows of the night lurked a myriad of unclean creatures and there was nothing the unholy hated more than humanity. It was through their unmatched ingenuity and tenacity that the human race was able to thrive among the unnatural creatures of the night. This time of property for humanity was known as the golden ages and it spanned for hundreds of years. However, with peace came complacency and this proved to be the downfall of the human race. As the generations went by humans grew lazy and forgot the hardships of their ancestors. This weakness did not go unnoticed by the unholy creatures, and when humanity least expected it the creatures of darkness descended upon them. For the next decade humanity was whittled down to a select few hundred survivors. These horrid years were known as The Fall. There was little hope left when humanity hit rock bottom. With nowhere left to go the human race turned their prayers to the heavens, and to their surprise they were heard. From the heavens descended an Archangel who bestowed her divine light upon a single mortal man, deeming him the first Lunarch. This was a turning point for the human race. The Lunarch wasted no time assembling a legion of men and women, who he had blessed with the light of the angels. These were the first Hunters and with the power of light, they pushed back against the agents of darkness reclaiming a small territory where they guard the remaining few of humanity. Now the second age of humans has come, the silver age. Humanity has slowly risen from the brink of extinction with the aid of the Hunters as their guiding light. While small hope has returned to humanity, the reality of the world is still darkness, fear, and death. With the unholy creatures of the night more powerful than ever, the hunter’s duty is never fulfilled.

BugDozer73 Whisker Gallus xAlter Skyward Sword Jean Otus Castello Mnemosyne H Hal lucination Lloyd Proletariat loyalwolf sunkiids

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[BugDozer73]

The world was darker than usual: the clouds hung a little closer to the earth this evening, the dew was a little damper, the call of the ravens ever so slightly more chilling. large as the world was, all the towns could smell the fire of the Avabruck burning, and see the pillar of ash on the horizon, thickening the air. The ash was laced with the iron taste of blood, and the people knew that death had payed them a visit again, a figure that came too frequently.

Odric stared at the ash plume, his hands clasped behind his back. Behind him, one of the elite guard spoke up, his voice filled with concern and angst, wondering what the silver hand was thinking.

"Odric... sir... your orders?"

Odric's head turned slightly to the side, his eyes darting back to catch the mans expression, before promptly returning to the destruction unfolding before him. As strong as the darkness had become, it had been long since it had been able to lay siege to the cities of man. Avacyn had delivered to them the tools to push back the night, and yet here he stood watching the black smoke mix with the clouds. His eye brows furrowed, and he turned to a wooden table splintered from age and base to a larch stained parchment with black ink lines outlining the land, as well as various hunter deployments.

"Sir..?"

"Gather the Ravens, and send orders to regroup at the keep: we are sending them to investigate"

"Who should we send for, sir?"

"The Seventh Contingency."

The elite turned and hurried out of the room, dashing off to fulfill his duty. Soon, several hunters and clerics would receive ravens with new orders: contingencies had been put into place with certain teams to deal with certain threats, but this was all a secret known only to the silver hand and the elite guard. Odric just hoped that whatever was waiting for them, they would be ready.

 

[Proletariat]

The world was darker than usual: the clouds hung a little closer to the earth this evening, the dew was a little damper, the call of the ravens ever so slightly more chilling. large as the world was, all the towns could smell the fire of the Avabruck burning, and see the pillar of ash on the horizon, thickening the air. The ash was laced with the iron taste of blood, and the people knew that death had payed them a visit again, a figure that came too frequently.

Odric stared at the ash plume, his hands clasped behind his back. Behind him, one of the elite guard spoke up, his voice filled with concern and angst, wondering what the silver hand was thinking.

"Odric... sir... your orders?"

Odric's head turned slightly to the side, his eyes darting back to catch the mans expression, before promptly returning to the destruction unfolding before him. As strong as the darkness had become, it had been long since it had been able to lay siege to the cities of man. Avacyn had delivered to them the tools to push back the night, and yet here he stood watching the black smoke mix with the clouds. His eye brows furrowed, and he turned to a wooden table splintered from age and base to a larch stained parchment with black ink lines outlining the land, as well as various hunter deployments.

"Sir..?"

"Gather the Ravens, and send orders to regroup at the keep: we are sending them to investigate"

"Who should we send for, sir?"

"The Seventh Contingency."

The elite turned and hurried out of the room, dashing off to fulfill his duty. Soon, several hunters and clerics would receive ravens with new orders: contingencies had been put into place with certain teams to deal with certain threats, but this was all a secret known only to the silver hand and the elite guard. Odric just hoped that whatever was waiting for them, they would be ready.

The scene opens to an infirmary packed with wounded Kessig guards and hunters. Several nurses and clerics scramble around, checking to see what the wounded need from them. The small ward looks overcrowded, and its minders seem overworked. Bloody rags hang from metal racks and buckets of water are frequently changed to reduce the smell of metallic blood in the air. In the corner of the modest ward, a fire-haired maiden in a white nurse's gown kneels beside a wounded guard. Without bed space, the guard is forced to lie on the hard wooden floor, with nothing but an itchy blanket between himself and the splintered, red-stained wood. The nurse has a calm demeanor, she looks down with no hint of concern at the guard's shin, which is definitely not in the position that it should be. The guard's shin bone is snapped just below the knee, it rests awkwardly in an unnatural position. The guard winces, he is nearly passing out due to pain.

The buxom young nurse makes a cooing face and places her cool palm against the guard's feverishly sweating cheek. She positions her face above his and looks down onto him with caring eyes. "Don't worry babydoll, Nurse Vivienne will take care of that busted leg, and you'll be out there slaying creatures of the night again in no time.." She gives him a flirty wink and he nods, half delirious from the pain. The nurse then kneels beside the guard's leg. She carefully places her hand on the top side of his knee, just below the patella. Her other hand rests firmly against the broken shin bone. In an almost sickly-sweet tone, her voice goes from loving to somewhat sour and vulgar, "Now tootsie, this is gonna hurt worse than a needle to the balls, but I promise I'll make you all better."

At the last word, nearly blinding light radiates from her hand and an audible cracking noise is heard as the bone is forced back into place. The guard immediately passes out from the excruciating pain, but his leg is set, the bone instantly re-calcifying in the correct position. Vivienne smiles at her handiwork and she leans over the guard once more, planting a wet kiss with a red-lipstick stain on his forehead. "That's my strong man.. you'll feel better by tomorrow evening."

A timid looking brunette nurse approaches Vivienne with a letter in her hand. Vivienne sees the nurse, and her kind expression immediately turns spiteful. Her voice also changes from sweet to vulgar and harsh. The firebrand nurse rises to her feet in an instant and takes an aggressive stance, pointing a finger at the brunette, "I swear to Avacyn's balls Susan, if its another broken bone that you're about to waste my time with, you can go ahead and fuck off."

Susan winces at each insult, cowering behind the letter a little more with each verbal assault. The other nurses and patients seem not to notice, they are used to it by now. The timid nurse extends the letter with a shaking hand. Vivienne snatches the letter and sees the Hunter's seal. "The fuck..?" She says to herself out loud, recognizing the significance of the parchment in her hands at once. The red-haired maiden takes her slightly pink apron off and hangs it around Susan's neck while storming past her. "You're taking over now sugar-tits, good luck." Viv said with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

Vivienne appears at the top of a set of wooden stairs that lead down into the ward. She is in a small military courtyard, where apprentices busily carry supplies and weapons to and fro. She leaps up onto a low wooden rail and opens her letter. For several minutes she stares at the parchment with no expression on her face. It is as if she has frozen there with the world still moving around here. Suddenly, after some time, her quiet voice utters, "By Avacyn... this is some serious shit... this is some serious shit.." Vivienne looks around at the passersby, wondering if they know the news. "No.." She says to herself, "No... they wouldn't let the people know yet, not until we know more.. I've got to get my shit, I've got to get out of here!" Vivienne suddenly becomes completely animated, almost comically sprinting into the distance with a folded piece of parchment in her hand.

After a half an hour of running around like a madwoman in her house, tearing things out of cupboards, throwing clothes around, swearing up a storm, and apologizing to Avacyn for being such a wild bitchof a woman, Vivienne appeared in the street with several large leather sacks hanging off of her shoulders and filling her hands. She wore a light-colored suit of studded leather that bore the Clerical Insignia on the shoulder. She looked like a dangerous woman barely clinging to sanity with her bags packed for a vacation to the loony bin, but damnit she was prepared. Her eyes were unusually open and a wicked grin was on her face. Before she left on her pack-horse (which was necessary due to her luggage amount), Vivienne visited her dear mentor Carol. The red-haired cleric told the old woman what was going on, and where she was going.

"You're a member of a contingency, dear Avacyn, what were they thinking?" Carol trailed off in thought. She was too late though, as the heavy-breathing woman yelled, "Whatever Granny, I got places to be!" And she dashed out the door towards the stable. Carol shook her head and wobbled to the doorway to watch the girl leave. "Avacyn.." Carol whispered, "...protect that sweet girl, for she knows not what she is in store for."

 

[BugDozer73]

The moon hung low in the sky, its pale yellow stare keeping careful watch on the sins of the earth. The trees were dead and dying, reaching never further, growing no leaves and splintering with time. A dead wind danced through the grove, whistling through every crack, branch, and cloth attached to the bodies strewn about the ground, covered in dirt and ash. Several human like creatures with puncture wounds in their chests laid lifelessly on the ground, their limbs twisted into unnatural shapes; their blood fled their forms, staining the earth a coppery crimson.

Arthur stood forward with his black cloak billowing in the wind. The glyphs on his blade, glowing the same burning orange as the blaze on one of the trees several feet away, empowered the black silver to slice through their necks, severing their heads from their bodies. As each head rolled away, their forms faded into dust, mingling in with the ash from the flames, the only reminder of their being there was the piles they created. The vampires had gone down quickly, not anticipating his strength or speed. Before they had even had a chance to bolt, he had placed wood through their hearts. His aim was getting better every night.

A violent cough brought his mind back to the night: the fire burning, the ash piles, the dead trees, and the remaining creature staked against the thick trunk of one. He had almost forgotten that one was still alive. It glared at him, but a smirk sat defiantly on his face as Arthur approached: Definitely not what you normally saw on a dying creature. A wheezing laugh, followed by more coughing and some blood fell on Arthurs shoes.

"Filthy Dog... you think with every swing of your blade you come closer to reclaiming your humanity... they will never accept you, demon." Another fit of painful laughter, and more blood. He had punctured a lung, just missing the heart by a few inches. A shame. With a quick grab, Arthur ripped the stake from the chest of the creature, drawing out a cry of agony and a spray of blood. Immediately the Vampires wound began to heal itself shut; Arthurs gut began to quiver, the thought of drawing out the hunt making his heart beat quicker. The beast blood in him boiled at the thought of savoring his kill, making every hunt more and more addictive and yet brutally unsatisfying. Arthur pushed the feelings aside and jammed the wooden stake deep into the heart of the beast, killing it instantly. Arthur kept his silence and rose to his feet, turning his head slightly at the cawing of the raven, a sound he had learned meant connection with humanity, and Odric. He lifted his right arm, and let the purple bird perch on his arm. Gingerly he removed the parchment and let the bird fly away into the light if the rising sun.

Quickly his eyes scanned the parchment, waiting for his next assignment, or news from the outside world. After finishing his reading, His eyebrow rose subtly. The tone of the letter was nothing short of panicked, and called for his immediate return to the silver fortress. Something serious was happening. Arthur's mind flickered back to the memory of his recent hunts, with the vampires suddenly frenzying over a new leader, and a new plan. Could whatever have happened have to do with the vampires stirring? Surely he would find his answer soon enough.

Bringing his fingers to his lips, Arthur whistled loudly, the crisp note piercing the morning air. A brown steed galloped forward, coming quickly to a halt before him. Arthur mounted with ease, drawing his long black hood over his silver hair and yellow eyes. It would be a long ride ahead, but he felt a warm sense of relief about returning home.

 

[Gallus]

Mona Rosewall
---⊱▪◈▪⊰---​

There was a foulness in the air. A thick sense of foreboding that clung to the gathering clouds like a starved tick, digging itself deeper into the grey sky. As a sailor smelled a storm, Mona could taste the bitter uncertainty gathering at the base of her tongue, causing her breath to hitch ever so slightly. The young woman reclined against her cushioned seat. A book sat on her lap, opened but long forgotten. Her eye traced the dark branches of the tree just outside the large bay windows, as if the dead wood held the answers to her sudden paranoia.

"Something on your mind, Little Ghost?"

Mona jolted at the soft voice. She straightened up, snapping the book close before turning towards the speaker. "Seris! Apologies, I didn't hear you come in."

Seris clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Alas, for those lessons on vigilance were put to waste." A glint of humor in the older man's honey eyes betrayed his scolding tone. His expression softened into a tender smile, his voice losing its jesting edge. "Now Little Ghost, would you humor an old man by telling him your woes?"

"Honestly. You're hardly old and I'm hardly little." Mona rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but crack the smallest of smiles. She set the unread book aside and scooted closer to the window, patting the empty space in a silent invitation. Seris bowed his head and accepted. He perched at the edge, far enough for Mona to feel comfortable yet close enough to catch the smell of old books and tobacco that clung to his robes. A comfortable silence fell between the two. Mona, in thought. Seris, patiently waiting. The brief pause hung like a rain-laden cloud, heavy and anticipated, before Mona opened her mouth to speak. "I've been having this feeling lately. A tightness in my chest. Like something is about to happen."

"Something bad?"

"I don't know. That's what's frustrating about it all." Mona laid a hand on the glass pane, her hand tingling from the cold. "I don't know."

A blanket of silence fell upon the room once more. This time, one of shared uncertainty. It was only broken by a sharp caw, followed by a flutter of black feathers upon the branches of the dead tree. Mona pulled back, startled for a moment at the raven's arrival, before spotting the parchment on the dark bird's leg. Shooting a look back at Seris, she scrambled to open the window and recoiled as a gust of wind blew through. The fire in the corner mantle flickered, threatening to plunge the room into darkness, before regaining its strength as Mona pulled the bird inside and shut the window close. She unfurled the note before quickly scanning through the contents, her brow furrowing in concentration. Once she finished, Mona lowered the letter and slid it towards Seris. She barely registered his face as he read through, his warm smile becoming a taut line and his eyes losing their warm light. Slowly, thoughtfully, he rolled the letter back up. "It appears your intuition was correct, Little Ghost."

Mona could only manage a small nod. The tightness in her throat, then a small phantom of dread, now felt all too palpable, all too real. That if she opened her mouth to speak, all her thoughts and fears and worries would come spilling out as pure bile. Instead, she swallowed hard, rose up from her seat, and said, "I have to leave soon. They are expecting me."

The acolyte stared hard at his charge. In the light of the flickering fire, his wrinkles looked deeper and his eyes more sunken. In the light of the flickering fire, Seris Kireon looked old. He gave a deep sigh and rested a gentle hand on Mona's shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Go get your clothes. I'll fetch your equipment." He hesitated for a moment, before pulling Mona into a tight hug. "Stay safe, my child. There is a storm brewing, and I fear you may have to face it soon."

 

[Brendanfp]

~Maria Lothric~
​

As Avabruck crumbled to ruins a single messenger crow swiftly made its way towards the eldritch woods...

Maria sat, legs outstretched in the wild grass of the eldritch woodlands, leaning on her long slender arms attached to wide bony hands with long splayed out fingers. Her grey eyes gazed out in the inky canopy of darkness draped over the sky. The stars hung above her as if strung in the air by invisible strings. The occasional hoot of a hidden owl was the only sound to permeate the dead silence. “Ahhh man… There really is nothing better than a good hunt,” Maria gushed as she inclined her head towards the bloodied werewolf that laid beside her. “You know what I mean…” she teased with a wicked smile. The huntress slowly turned her head back towards the starry night sky as an unexpected raven descended down into her lap. She noticed the tan parchment that rested in his ebony beak. “Hey, there little friend… Is that for me?” The feathered messenger let out an eerie coo in response dropping the mystery letter in the process. Maria took care to clean her hands of blood before she gathered the letter and began reading it aloud. As her eyes moved down from line to line, the grin on her face slowly began to disappear. “Well this really kills the mood,” she lamented.

Drops of blood dripped down Maria’s arms as she got up out of the crimson pool that had formed beneath her. The quickly departed as she raised to her feet. The steady sound of beating wings echoed through the still air. The Huntress took a moment to examine her feeble prey as it laid helplessly before her. The grotesque dog had scouted out far past the territory of his pack. Maria had been so giddy when she stumbled upon him while out on her nightly walk of the Tharben border. It had been a while since she had brought ruin to a werewolf. The ragged dog began to stir in the blood-soaked grass. The creature's jaw opened slightly filling the air with the sounds of his labored breaths. “K-Kill me… Please…” The huntress cast an icy glare down at the mutt. She was no longer amused by her broken plaything. Maria’s silver dagger protruded out from the wolf’s hide where she had used it to carve out long strips of bleeding flesh. She reached down and forcefully tore the silver blade out of the bloody mess. She had hoped to get some reaction from the werewolf, but alas he didn’t even have the strength left to snarl at her. “How absolutely pathetic.” Without another word, the Huntress took the dagger in both of her hands and brought it down through the eye socket and into his skull. Her duty was fulfilled and her hunt had come to a conclusion, however, her night had only begun.

Maria inhaled deeply and paused to take in the sweet scent of her fresh kill before turning her back on the unholy creature. She took extra care to remain silent as she stalked through the shaded woods making her way back towards her ebony steed. The black mustang let out a fierce snort as his master approached, and Maria greeted him with open arms around his neck. The huntress mounted her mustang and took his reigns into her blood-stained hands. “Let’s go, Gehrman!" she commanded, sending the pair off into the night.

BugDozer73 Whisker Gallus xAlter Skyward Sword Jean Otus Castello Mnemosyne H Hal lucination Lloyd Proletariat loyalwolf sunkiids

 

[Hal lucination]

-Tel Norik-

Tel rested in the middle of the clearing, with his swords set beside him. He closed his eyes as he tried to clear his mind. Despite his best efforts, his swords flickered, indicating his turmoil. It was near the end of the four year cycle. It wouldn’t be long before something terrible happened. Tel’s mind shifted to the fire of his mother’s house, the fresh corpse of his father, and most recently, the chaos of the village. Tel tried his best to push these thoughts out of his head. There would be none of that, this year. He can’t feel pain if there’s nothing to hurt. Nobody would suffer because of him anymore. His mind touched upon the thought sitting at the back of his head: If there’s no one to take the pain, then would it all be directed at him? Tel looked down. Well, maybe it would be better that way. No way for him to indirectly hurt anybody else this way.

Suddenly, Tel heard the sound of wings. Tel’s instincts activated as he rolled away, drawing his revolver and firing at the sound. Tel got a look at what he heard. It was a messenger raven from the hunters, apparently unimpressed with Tel’s attempt to kill it. Tel exhaled. Luckily his distraction (and his less-than-outstanding skill) had caused his shot to go wide; he really didn’t want to find out the consequences for killing a messenger raven. He took the message from the raven and read it. He silently holstered his revolver, picked up his swords from the ground, pulled his hood over his face, and dashed off into the night.

 

[xAlter]

Fire and destruction rained around Leo. Blue and red flames danced and mingled in the cold night air, cascading a blanket of smoke onto those who were captured within. Among the dancing fires, two opponents also danced to the symphony of roaring flames. Flashes of steel and silver, leather and silk, red and black tangoed to the unstoppable beat. Two humanoids, unperturbed by the roaring conflagration continued their dance ceaselessly. Around them lay the corpses of others in red, vampires and hunters alike, their blood running rivers through the cracked earth beneath them, their faces frozen in the agony of death. From above the din, a gunshot cracked through the night.

Staggering back, the vampiress looked to man in front of her, blood spilling from between ruby lips. Her chest heaved shallow breaths as she slouched forward, hateful crimson eyes boring holes into the man. Cuts and bruises had already formed on areas of exposed skin, showing the continued struggle between the two. A growl emanated from her chest as she dropped her sword, her pristine white arm turning red with blood from the wound in her shoulders. With unhurried steps, her hunter made his approach towards her. “What are you going to do now kitty cat? I’ve killed the other hunters sent after me, and now it’s your turn.” she snarked as she tried to stand tall.

No words were said as the man looked down upon the vampiress, blue eyes radiating like the blue flames that surrounded them. Lunging forward and grabbing the vampiress by her throat, the hunter locking eyes with her. Fear finally dawned on the vampiress when she was thrown onto the ground.

“Wait! Don’t kill me!” the vampiress begged as she scrambled backwards. Kneeling before the man, the vampiress looked to the man begging. “I can give you whatever you want! Power! Money! Even me if you would like!” she cried out. While the vampiress was beautiful in her own right, the hunter was not one to be fooled easily. Bringing both hands to his sword, and raising the blade high into the air, the hunter prepared to strike. “I know about the beasts who killed your family!!”

The hunter faltered, and that was all she needed. Lunging forth, with fangs bared. The hunter grabbed the flying vampiress and threw her once again. Landing against a wall, she crumpled to the ground. Looking back at the hunter, the hunter paused as he finally recognized her face out of his adrenaline state. “Ella?” he asked. His voice echoed in the silent forest, the vampiress also pausing.

“Leo?” she responded, shock written on her face. Struggling to a standing position, the vampiress looked back to the hunter before disappearing in a flock of bats. The now named Leo ran forth, stopping when he noticed all the bats disappear. “Damn it!” he shouted as he stabbed his sword into the ground. Noticing a raven upon a fallen tree, he grabbed the parchment off its leg. Reading the contents, Leo threw the parchment into a fire, grabbed his sword from the ground, and walked off into the night, the destruction caused by the battle left in his wake.

BugDozer73 Whisker Gallus Brendanfp Skyward Sword Jean Otus Castello Mnemosyne H Hal lucination Lloyd Proletariat loyalwolf sunkiids

 

[Castello]

Blending in with the night, Annie's face was covered in a thick soot. The flames began to trickle away from the beasts body as the oil that found itself intertwined with its fur had been consumed by the flame of a single match. It had always amazed the young lady by how much such a small fire source could burn with addition of such flammable liquid. It was another concerning thought of how much damage she could do if but a spark ignited one of the nearby trees; she was terribly cautious of this every time she used fire, careful that it could not spread to a nearby town.

What was left of the beast was the remnants of flesh that had been eaten away by flame and its fragile framework of bones. It was a small monster, perhaps such a fiery death was overkill, but as Annaelise turned to the wound it inflicted on her quad, she was reaffirmed by her choice of disposal. The wound was a series of three gashes from its claws, it was shallow and bled modestly, but the sting was enough to provide discomfort walking. Ointment had been quickly applied as she watched the beast burn and a bandage had been placed in hopes it would not be infected. Annie knew that hunters had died from smaller scratches that went untreated, the arrogance of the men to overlook their injury and power on only to die on a cold bed was a lesson enough for the girl.

Coughing out the last of the smoke in her lungs, she decided her duty as a hunter had been well fulfilled for the day. Every passing moon was an accomplishment in itself. Any hunter who had overcome a day on the job had something to be proud of, at least that was her sentiment. She passed by a nearby river to clean herself of the thick mask of soot on her face, retying her pigtails to look presentable as she reared to the gates of the town. In times of fear and wide-spread mania, it meant a lot to her to look her best. She gave a wave to a man who often guard this particular gate, she had become recognizable at last, but probably on because of her connection to the infamous Arthur. Unlike him, however, Annie was always greeted with smiles and sweet flirts of the men. She was much better suited for the famed life than her teacher and loved the attention she got.

BugDozer73

 

[Mune]

~In a shack just outside of Thraben~

A loud and concussive blast came from nowhere as Xavier was working on yet another failed project. "Damn, now I gotta get new bandages..." croaked Xavier, looking at the now torn shreds of fabric around his hands. He had been working on a new idea; an explosive that would send out mini-explosives at detonation. So far out of his 86 trials none had shown any real promise. As he began to scratch down his results he heard the muffled sound of panicked "caw".

"Oh no...not again...Mydas!!!!" screamed Xavier. A few moments later a pitch black owl with a little white spot that looked a little like a bow tie came in through the open window carrying what appeared to be a dead raven in it's talons.

"Mydas, I said warn me if anything comes, not try to kill it...no wonder nobody wants to visit." This comment was only met with what could be considered to be a condescending glare from the feathery beast. "What? Just because nobody came before doesn't mean they don't want to now...now off with you! And leave the blasted bird!" With that Mydas did reside to his perch in the farthest corner of the room. Before Xavier could return to work he noticed something attached to it's leg. "Peculiar...what do we have hear my dead little friend?" muttered Xavier.

Xavier pulled the parchment from the raven's leg and proceeded to peruse the contents.

"Something about Seventh Contingency...blah blah blah...I'm needed...blah blah blah. Mydas...Mydas! Wake up you insufferable pigeon!" Xavier balled up the message and lobbed it at Mydas. "This was a bloody messenger raven!!!! How am I going to explain to Odric that I couldn't control my owl enough to stop it from killing the raven? Hmmmm???"
With that Xavier began to pack up everything he would need: food, water, and a plethora of various explosive devices. "Nibbler come!" commanded Xavier. A mere fraction of a second later a snake shot up Xavier's leg and placed itself along his right sleeve.

"Come on Mydas!" demanded Xavier, "and leave that bloody raven alone!"

Brendanfp BugDozer73

 

[Proletariat]

A fair-skinned, crimson-haired maiden comes over the horizon. She rides a white pack-horse with brown spots all over its torso. The horse trots along at a steady pace, it is heavily laden with leather saddle bags. The maiden also bears her own burden, two large leather duffel bags, one for each shoulder. The maiden is the only person in sight, the road is long and straight ahead of her. The terrain is relatively flat, with short grass plains on either side of the deteriorated stone road. A puff of dust kicks up each time the horse's shoe clatters against the uneven stone beneath it.

The rider is Vivian Sallustius, Cleric from Kessig. She has ridden this road before, it is a familiar one. It has been some time since she saw the Silver Fortress and the Church of Avacyn. She spent the entirety of her adolescence there, but returning to the place of her conversion always felt strange. Life on the front was busy. Well, so was life at the Church, but life on the front was the important sort of busy. In Kessig, she felt like her actions, her life, had meaning. She could reach out and literally save lives, contribute to the human effort. In the Church, everything felt so removed, so surreal. It was rare that Vivienne ever got time to think, she preferred not to anyway. Thinking always leads her to think about herself, and that never leads to anything positive. She prefers to think about other people, to pick at their flaws and eccentricities, not her own. That is because deep down, she feels horribly insecure. Her parents' choice to abandon her at the Church as a child never really leaves her. It always hovers around her head, hiding away for a quiet time such as this.


With her past and present issues nipping at the back of her mind, Vivienne did not notice the fortified settlement rising over the horizon. Her typically sweet smile or vicious grin is not present on her beautiful face, instead, her brows furrow in pensive reflection. The horse, oblivious to Vivienne's withdrawal from the present, continues its trek straight towards an all too familiar destination. It is ready to take a breather, the weight of its rider's luggage caused the saddle to chafe uncomfortably for the entire journey. The pack horse whinnies to alert its rider of the discomfort. Instead of noting the discomfort, Vivienne lifted her head to see the impressive palisade of the Silver Fortress appear before her. Still a 10 minute ride away, Vivienne focuses her attention on the solid walls. Vivienne knows that it is not the most formidable defense that humans have ever built, but she thinks that the new generation of humans could not do much better with the resources they have. The Silver Fortress grows nearer with each passing breath, and a small fluttering feeling blossoms in Vivienne's stomach.

The Cleric is totally unsure of what is to come. Humans deal with setbacks all the time, but the fall of Avabruck is devastating to her, and to humankind. 'The last decade has been nothing but progress overall... how will they break the news to the common people?' Vivienne thinks. Things such as the economic toll, the lack of silver, the loss of manpower, those are thoughts for more pragmatic minds. Vivienne cares more about the emotional impact it will have on those still living. She sees first hand every day how important hope is to the flickering candle of humanity. Hope is the fuel to their flame. Without it... humans are lost. She knows that somehow Avacyn has a plan for her in this mess, but she is afraid that she is not strong enough to fulfill it.

As Vivienne passes through the gates of the Silver Fortress, she whispers to herself, "Avacyn give me strength, for I feel that I have none of my own." She felt very small in the large fortress. Guards man the walls, soldiers and hunters roam the premise, looking determined to complete their mission, fulfill their duties. In the clamor of it all she feels lost. A stable hand says a few words to her, she doesn't hear them. Her horse is guided to the stable with her atop it. The stable boy asks her a question, something about needing help with her bags. She looks at him, a very vacant expression on her face, and nods. The stable boy directs her somewhere to put her bags, she carries the two on her shoulders and follows him across the courtyard.

 

[BugDozer73]

Arthur rode swiftly through the trees, emerging in hours through to the other side. A distance away, towards the south, the lights of Thraben flickered in the morning light. Arthur let the memory of his family's farm slip through his mind, of the fields of gold swaying in the afternoon wind, and the smell of fires at night to keep back the darkness. He remembered the old oak door whose top hinge sagged ever so slightly so the locking lever didn't work. Arthur remembered his mothers frail hand in his own as she trembled in bed, her eyes portraits of her suffering; always misty and cold, flickering between the rooms shadows. Arthur squeezed the reigns a little tighter and spurred his steed forward, away from his doubt.

In passing time he arrived at the walls of the palisade, a few guards at the entrance wary to his approach. His eyes darted quickly over them, noticing everything from their tired expressions to the hands twitching on their sword hilts. His nose, heightened by his curse, inhaled the subtle flavors of fear expunged from their beings. They knew him well from his unholy yellow gaze. A lone wolf they called him, a ruthless shadow. They had little idea how right they were. Arthur nodded at them as he trotted past, making his way to the stables. A hunter he didn’t recognize was waiting for him there.

“Mr. Taylor: Odric is expecting you. You will find him inside the manor on his outlook.”

Arthur nodded, ignoring his curt nature and tone. “My thanks” he offered gruffly, watching as the hunter turned and hurried away. It had been 6 months since he had seen the inside of this fortress, and even the new faces seemed to know to avoid him. He had grown used to the exclusion, and embraced the lonelyness it harbored. He quickly dismounted and handed the reigns to a small stable boy, who looked up at him with his own two, innocent brown eyes. He was small, with messy brown hair and covered in dirt: his clothes were ripped and covered in patches. Even in a place like the silver fortress, many people felt the crushing reality of poverty.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” He grinned slightly at Arthur, who looked back at him with a mild glance.
“You’re Arthur Taylor.. the wolfbane... you slaughtered the Kessig howl pack! That was like, twelve werewolves! How did you do it?”

Arthur smiled at the child: he was hopeful, and idealistic. He reminded him a lot of his younger brother from years ago.

“It was 9 actually.” Arthur replied with a smile from under his hood, watching the boys eyes widen.

“Were you scared?”

“No: I knew Avacyn would keep me safe.”

The boy grinned from ear to ear, playing in his own mind a visual from the stories he had heard. Arthur kneeled down and leaned in close, his yellow stare peeking from his black hood.

“It was a full moon, on falls wings, pale as a witches heart. I had been tracking a wolf for two days, and had found prints leading away from the town into the Eldritch wood. As I was walking into the trees, I began to hear sounds around me, like the Forrest itself was moving. In an open grove, all of the wolves emerged from the trees, each 10 feet tall and nashing their yellow teeth.”

The boy covered his mouth with his hands, his pupils shrinking as Arthur set the scene.

“What did you do?”

Arthur smirked: “I found the alpha, and I cut out his eyes!” Arthur grabbed the boy, unsheathing his knife and jabbing it forward in the air in a violent motion, stopping right before the boys face. Startled, the boy recoiled as much as he could in Arthur’s grip, and gasped as the knife moved so quickly. Arthur chuckled and placed the blade in the boys palm, closing his fingers over it.

“If you see a werewolf, pray hard and aim for the eyes.” Arthur winked and rose to his feet, making his way to the manor. The boy behind him looked down into his palm at the blessed silver hunting knife as if it were a gift from Avacyn herself.

 

[Gallus]

Mona Rosewall

---⊱▪◈▪⊰---​

"We'll be approaching soon, Miss," said the coachman. Soon, as it turns out, was not soon enough.

The carriage ride was uncomfortable. The spindly wheels provided no protection from the bumpy road and, despite the warm, cushioned interior, a chill seemed to permeate the air. Only Mona's thoughts kept her from speaking out against the discomfort. A locust swarm of worries picked at her mind, landing on moments of peace to lay eggs of doubt, before buzzing off to let its brood hatch. It was almost maddening. Her only anchor of sanity, ironically enough, was the letter itself. Mona's eye scanned the delicate writings for the hundredth time. She picked apart the aloof words, the elegant but monotonous cursive, the be heres and do this. Over and over until it was ingrained in her mind, before doing it once more. It was needless. Mona knew that much, of course. But cementing herself in the distant tone, focusing only on completing a mission, distracted her from its underlying cause. Avabruck had fallen. The thought flashed at Mona from the back of her mind like a distant lightning storm, reminding her of a memory she longed to put away. A town had been destroyed. No, not just a town. A fighting chance. Humanity's fighting. And now it was all going to shit.

Enough of that, Mona silently scolded herself. That's why you're here. Now, chin up. There's work to be done.

Mona braced herself as the carriage lurched to a halt. She peeked past the dark curtains, catching glimpses of a heavily fortified palisade and the approaching figure of a heavily armed hunter.
"'Hoy, there." The guard's voice was gruff and impartial, yet there was no mistaking the underlying caution. "State your name and business."

Mona drew back her curtains and leaned her head out far enough so that the symbol around her neck was visible. "Mona Rosewall. Cleric. I was summoned, post haste, and I'd like to arrive on time." A drip of impatience bled into the last of her words, causing an ever so slight downward twitch from the corner's of the sentry's mouth. He studied the pale woman for a second before doing an about face turn and marching back towards the gate. A brief commune with the other hunters later, the carriage was moving towards the gates once more. Mona released a breath and sank back into her cushioned seat. A part of her felt a pang of guilt for snappish attitude, but that quickly faded in favor for familiar annoyance. Kind or no, she had a job to do.

It wasn't long before the jostling of the carriage came to a gradual halt. Mona stepped out from the carriage, shivering as the chilly air surrounded her in full force. Clutching the fringes of her shawl, she strode towards the looming visage of the manor, paying little heed to the coachmen collecting her things or the stable hands rushing forward to fetch the horses. Only did she near the threshold did she pause. Mona clutched her holy symbol and closed her eyes, muttering a quick prayer of strength, before bracing herself and stepping inside.

 

[Brendanfp]

-Maria Lothric-​

The world always looked different at night. Everything seemed to have an unfamiliar slant to it. As if the daytime trees and flowers and stones had gone to bed and sent slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their places. An inky blur could be seen darting down a gravel trail and towards the place where all hunters returned, the silver fortress. Gehrman's pace slowed after an hour and by three hours, it was a quick, albeit weary, trot. Maria's legs were stiff from being held in the same position. Her tightened her grip on the dark leather reigns. She was nervous. The thought of having to confront an army of her hunter allies put her on edge. She would much rather be cornered by a coven of witches instead. Maria chuckled at the absurd and thought as her shadowy steed came to a slow halt. She had arrived.

Maria felt a slight soreness pulse throughout her legs as she dismounted. The journey had been long, never before had she received such an urgent and demanding summon from the church. The huntress stood before the wooden barricade of the fortress clutching the reigns of her mount. The smell of fresh wood pulp lingered on the cool night air. Had Kessig sent in their monthly shipment of lumber to the hunters, she thoughts as two armed guards slowly approached her. Maria eyed the two as they came closer. There was a moment of silence as the pair of hunters looked back to one another as if they were deciding who make the first contact with Bloody Marie. Growing tired of the silence Gehrman trotted in place and let out a snort of annoyance.

"Hear that?" Maria chided, "It means he's tired. I believe you both know who I am so if you could be so kind as to make way." This seemed to snap the two out of their stupor.

"Our apologies Lady Maria," the first guard placated. "Right! Welcome back," the second hunter agreed.

As Maria lead Gehrman through the barricade and into the courtyard, she could hear the two speak in hushed tones behind her.

"First Wolfbane... and now Bloody Marie. It looks like all the monsters are gathering today," he whispered.

While Maria would usually take offense to such a comment, instead her spirits were lifted. The huntress hadn't seen her best friend in years, but it had just been confirmed that he was indeed on this holy property. She made her way towards the stables as the thought of reuniting with Arthur lingered a bit longer.

BugDozer73 Whisker Gallus xAlter Skyward Sword Jean Otus Castello Mnemosyne H Hal lucination Lloyd Proletariat loyalwolf sunkiids

 

[xAlter]

Leonidas rode alone through the silent night, his face obscured by the black hood he wore. The stars painted a rather somber scene for the lone hunter, his mind wandering to the night where he lost all he had ever had.The wind created a silent song, a whistled tune of nature in its entirety. Even now, the birds ran silent, as they did during the day. Nature seemed to fall asleep, fade into obscurity as the moon rose in the dark sky. Leo looked back forth to the Silver Fortress in the distance.

Where one would see fear and terror when first approaching the Silver Fortress, a seasoned hunter and veteran of Death, would find comfort in its sight. Trotting upon his steed, Leo soon arrived at the gate. Dismounting and grabbing the reins of his horse, Leo walked forward as the gate raised, and the hunter walked through.

“Ho there! If it isn’t the Sable Lion himself! Here in the Silver Fortress!” a strong hearty voice rang out. A bear of a man, wearing the blackest of fur coats, walked forth to the dismounted Leo. His face was aged and weathered, but still held a charm most would be blind to ignore. Slung across his back was a gargantuan battle axe.

Laughing to himself, Leo went up and hugged the man. “Master Arrewyn!” the smaller man replied. “It is a pleasure to see you again!”

Darian Arrewyn was the hunter who mentored Leo before his arrival at the Silver Fortress. The man was a war beast, having the strength of a berserker, but the mind of master tactician. He was one of the more famous hunters, but still relatively old. His time was coming to an end. Letting go of the man, Leo went silent as his mentor went and whispered into his ear.

“Bloody Marie and the Wolf are here lad. Don’t do anything rash.”

Leo could only clench his fist and grit his teeth in frustration. If those two were here, something was going on, something big. “I understand.”

Saying farewell to his mentor, Leo would walk away, going to find the head hunter. He had work to do. As they say, a hunter must hunt.

BugDozer73 Whisker Gallus Brendanfp Skyward Sword Jean Otus Castello Mnemosyne H Hal lucination Lloyd Proletariat loyalwolf sunkiids

 

[BugDozer73]

Arthur briskly made his way over the grounds of the keep, hunters shying away from his black cloak, and cleric's reaching for Avacyn's cross at the sight of him. Arthur didn't show it, but a feeling of anger began to grow in him. He remembered why he stayed away: even his kin, the man and women of avacyn pushed him away. He would never be truly welcome here, or anywhere. The vampires final words echoed in his mind, and he drew his hood further over his face, picking up his pace. In minutes he had made his way to the manor. The morning was chilled, and his breath came out in small clear clouds, washed away by a sprinkle that began to fall. The earth turned to mud under his boots, which he wiped promptly on the boards before the entrance. Two guards stood outside the manor door, a rifle in each hand and a sword strapped to their wastes. Each opened a door for him as he entered, avoiding eye contact.

The inside of the manor was old; at least 40 years old, with chipping paint, and creaking floor boards. The entrance hall was long, with four pillars on either side leading to the main room, a ball room with long cascading stairs, and sky lights illuminating the room with the grey cloudy light from outside. Where once sat satin red sofas now stood dispatch orders: where resided a table was now being used to sign new recruits, with a small line of 12 men and woman, none of them over 18 waiting to sign a paper and begin their training. The manor smelled old too, but Arthur couldn't be sure with how much more powerful his sense of smell was from a normal humans: Arthur stopped and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep sniff. Out of the palate of scents dancing between his nostrils he could detect 14 horses currently resting in the stables: 56 hunters currently stationed in the fort, 26 of whom were outside on patrol, distinguishable by the wet cloth smell from their uniforms. The clerics always reeked of the incenses they burned in the temple, some of them mixed with alter wine. The house was mildewy, and the armory smelled like gunpowder, and there was the fresh dew on the leaves in the forrest, as well as the sweet smell of deer blood, and the tang of toad water in the ponds, and the .... Arthur stopped at two particular smells that could bring a smile to his lips: the smell of white rose and fresh monster blood at the stables was all he needed to know they had called for Mary. It had been several years since he had seen the white haired huntress, but he had heard her name passed over the tongues of the populace on her travels: she had become quite famous in the passing years, as opposed to Arthurs infamous. In fact, there was probably somewhere deep down that he resented her for her popularity, but he would never admit it. The second smell was old, of tangy wine and weathered wood, tattered silk and torch fire, or spring nights, lavender and hope: this was the scent of years of the hunt, and Arthur grinned a wolfish grin, his fangs gleaming in the low light of the entrance hall.

"Arthur Taylor, as I live and breath: You are a sight for sore eyes, you are!"

Arthur turned and clasped the mans arm, each clutching the others elbows sturdy like, forming a bar with their arms: the shake of old hunters.

"Odric.. you look old as dirt, you foolish man." Arthur teased, his old friend smiling at the banter.

"And you look as fresh and wet behind the ears as the day you signed the list. Come! We have much to discuss, and little time before I must address the others." He turned and walked over to the stairs ascending with grace. Arthur followed quickly behind, easily keeping pace with The Silver Hand. Through several winding hallways they marched quickly, with Odric filling most of it by talking.

"The fort has held strong since you have been away: The missions you have accomplished, along with the other hunters have helped us push back the dark things. We have been collecting many victories since the massacre at woods edge.." Odric paused for a moment as the memory of the bloodbath came back to him. The wither fang wolf pack had slaughtered at least 60 hunters by Thraben's borders: They had kept the town safe, but the costs had been dear. Arthur himself remembered watching the fires burn for the dead for hours. So many families had been touched by that day. "But we have had new recruits joining up every week! Our numbers are strong, and we are well stocked in provisions!-" Odric ducked into his war room, and Arthur followed him in quickly; Odric shut the doors behind them and paused for a moment, letting his head turn to Arthur with worry on his face.

"Did you find it?"

Arthur reached for his bag and pulled out a book, burned around the edges but relatively untouched. "The Voldarins had a hoard of ancient human knowledge they were attempting to burn: They destroyed much, but I got this." He handed the book over to a wide eyed silver hand, who flipped through the pages.

"The journal of the first silver hand! This is a major breakthrough! Who KNOWS what kind of knowlege are held within these pages! Arthur...." He looked over at the large hunter with soft eyes, mournful eyes, eyes that wept for a great injustice. "Though the world may never know of your sacrifice, may never offer you its thanks, you have vigilantly defended the light so that they could live:do not be disheartened by their scorn." He sat in his chair, his gratitude genuine and beaming, and Arthur was grateful for it, but instead of smiling he turned to the 25 year whiskey housed in crystal and poured a glass, taking it to the window and looked out upon the land.

"Have you made any progress in finding a cure?"

Odric sighed, lowering the book slightly. "I have spoken to the golden hand, and we have looked through countless tomes and scrolls, and indexed herbal codexes... we have found nothing yet... I am sorry, Arthur." Arthur said nothing, and continued looking out the window at the students training with wooden swords. He downed his glass quickly and walked over to fill it again.

Odric put his eyes back to the tattered pages of the old book, flipping through with eagerness.

"This.... this is amazing... it's even more than I hoped for! Designs for more powerful rifles, medical biopsies of monstrosities, herbal remedies, war strategies... Avacyn bless us, these are the designs for a steam engine! This information could bring about a new era in human history! We are reclaiming our souls Arthur."

Arthur said nothing, only sipped at his second drink. There was still the matter of the summons to discuss, but before he could bring it up, Odrics eyebrows furrowed and he leaned closer. Arthur felt himself go wary at the sudden change of disposition.

"Thats odd... there is something in here about a ritual, but it's in different hand writting.. These symbols.... I don't recognize them... We will have to present that to a historian to see if we can find out what it means.. be that as it may, this is still a revolutionary break through. You continue to be an essential part of the hunter organization: Thank you again Arthur. Now... about your summons.."

Odric put the book aside carefully and leaned on his front left forearm. Despite the good news of Arthurs successful mission, Odric looked taxed, and weary. It was the first time he had seen the old hunter look.... old. And it frightened him more than any demon of the night ever could.

"We have received intelligence... that avabruck has fallen. We believe that the city was overrun yesterday night. Our early reports indicate.... that there were no survivors."

Arthur lowered his head slightly. Avabruck had at least 1500 people in it, including women and children alike. The scent of ash on the breeze became blood in his nose, and his heart beat began to sting with every strum.

"We called in the seventh contingency because our research would indicate that the town was eradicated in less than three hours. Even for the vampire clans or witherfang pack, it would be impossible. Whatever is there.... its something we haven't faced before: something ancient, and very powerful." Odric rose to his feet and walked a few paces away, the weight of his words weighing heavy on the room.

"We are going to be sending several hunters and clerics in to assess the threat and report back. Offer aid to any survivors, and get them out of there. Once we can identify the threat we can launch a counter attack and re-establish a base of operations to maintain our silver supply. Should we lose access to it... well, I don't need to tell you how hard that would hit us."

He was right. The silver supply, the silver weapons, were essential in taking the fight to the beasts. Without silver weapons, many hunters would be left defenseless against creatures.

"Well then, there isn't much time left for idle chatter. It was good to see you again, Odric."

"I am glad you are well Arthur. You stay safe, and keep the others well. I know Mary will be happy to see you as well."

Arthur smiled and nodded to the old man. Arthur turned and headed for the door, stopping only when he heard his name once more.

"Arthur.... How has your infection since last we spoke?"

Arthur slowed his hand turning the knob, then released it. Sometimes he wondered if Odric wanted him cured at all, or would rather use him as a weapon. For several years after his turning, Odric had worked with him personally, training him in the way of the hunter, but at night pushing him to learn to control his transformations. Arthur had hated it, and himself, but never Odric. And yet, since he had been much on his own, he had avoided turning as much as possible, only succumbing to the beast rage when the moon shone full and mesmerizing. Arthur turned and held out his hand, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. His heart began to beat faster and he began to feel his bones stretch painfully: the transformation still caused him severe suffering, even only partial transformations, and those were hard to stop once they started. His arm began to grown larger, his fingers extending slightly, his finger tips splitting, letting 5 razor like claws elongate slowly forward. Odric looked in awe as Arthur struggled to keep just his claws extended without transforming, but it seemed to be working. For the first time, Arthur had seen some progress in gaining some control over his transformation, and he smiled slightly.

Anger began to boil in his stomach, paired with the pain of shattering bones and rending flesh, and Arthur collapsed to the floor with a cry of agony. The rest of his body began to reshape, his mind beginning to blank from the pain, letting the beast out. "O-Odric! OODRAAAACCcggggrrr.." His fangs extended, along with his face, his body growing and stretching.

Odric quickly grabbed an orb from his belt and hurled it above Arthur, followed by the draw of his revolver and the perfect placed shot shattering the glass and releasing a golden yellow powder over Arthur. The smell of the herb "wolfbane" filled the air, and Arthur felt relief flood his body, and he collapsed to the floor heaving for breath as his limbs and appendages shifted back to normal. Odric quickly fell to his side and lifted Arthur up, carrying him over to and placing him in a chair, barely conscious.

"Arthur? Can you hear me?" His words were worried, but his face was emotionless, trained to deal with both emergencies and monsters with the most steady of heart and mind.

"I... im fin..e." Arthur took deep breaths and wiped the sweat off his brow. Despite his wanting to please and impress Odric, every transformation was excruciating; like burning alive, and jumping off a cliff 200 feet up. In the world they knew, pain was always in the parlor waiting to visit again, but it seemed to follow the silver haired hunter around hand in hand. After a moment to collect himself, and another to make sure he was stable Arthur rose to his feet again. Odric reluctantly stepped back, letting Arthur step to the door. Arthur looked down at where he had collapsed: Two sets of claw marks had been dug deep into the wood of the floor, a layer of splinters and dust around them. Odric would have to find a good excuse for those. Arthur pulled his dark cloak further around himself, as if it were a cage that could restrain his inner demon, and walked out the door of his study. He would meet the others downstairs in the main room, where they would be instructed as he was about the mission details, armed quickly and sent to the town of silver to route through the cinders and rubble in search of hope, still dancing away from our reach.

 

[Mune]

What would have been a mere 2 days travel by horse turned into a near weeks worth of walking for Xavier. He didn't mind though; to him it was just more time away from only the most judgmental species in these forsaken times: people. Xavier was on the last leg of his journey when he heard a tired squawk from above him.

"Mydas stop complaining! A little cardio never hurt anyone. What do you think would happen if I just let you ride on my shoulder? Why you'd become so fat I would have to throw you at the monsters to distract them. Now you wouldn't like that too much would ya? Exactly!"

Xavier himself was actually quite tired himself. In his absentmindedness he had forgotten to pack extra rations and had run out the night before and, on top of that, his bandages had near run completely out of magic and his wounds were beginning to return in full force. Luckily, a few long hours later, Xavier saw it: The entrance to the Silver Fortress!

"Ahhh yes Mydas! Home sweet torture!" said Xavier with a smirk. It's not like he hated the place, in fact he quite enjoyed the books and the meals. It was the people that he held great distaste for, or rather they for him.

"I wonder what would happen if I let Nibbler loose on those ungrateful..." began Xavier, only to be interrupted by a swift talon to the back of his head. "I was just kidding!! Geez Mydas I'm not that heartless. Keep doing that though and I'll sick Nibbler on you! Dumb pigeon." As Xavier approached the gate he was greeted by the disdained stares of the guards.

"Ummmm...hello! Uhhh...Odric sent for me...Xavier's the name. Ummm... I'll just squeeze on past if that's ok!" squeeked Xavier. He slipped through the small gap between the two men and let loose a deep exhale once inside the walls. Due to his previous troubles with people he found much difficulty in functioning socially among them. He never knew how to approach them or much less carry on a conversation. His mind began to wander back to the sweet solace of his shack when he walked face first into what he could only hope discern to be the rump of huge black horse.

"Please don't be Gehrman, please don't be Gehrman, please don't be Gehrman." Xavier began to chant to himself. He slowly peered around beast only to be greeted by the sight of someone he would have very much liked to avoid.

"Well crap..." muttered Xavier under his breath.

 

[Proletariat]

Mona Rosewall

---⊱▪◈▪⊰---​

"We'll be approaching soon, Miss," said the coachman. Soon, as it turns out, was not soon enough.

The carriage ride was uncomfortable. The spindly wheels provided no protection from the bumpy road and, despite the warm, cushioned interior, a chill seemed to permeate the air. Only Mona's thoughts kept her from speaking out against the discomfort. A locust swarm of worries picked at her mind, landing on moments of peace to lay eggs of doubt, before buzzing off to let its brood hatch. It was almost maddening. Her only anchor of sanity, ironically enough, was the letter itself. Mona's eye scanned the delicate writings for the hundredth time. She picked apart the aloof words, the elegant but monotonous cursive, the be heres and do this. Over and over until it was ingrained in her mind, before doing it once more. It was needless. Mona knew that much, of course. But cementing herself in the distant tone, focusing only on completing a mission, distracted her from its underlying cause. Avabruck had fallen. The thought flashed at Mona from the back of her mind like a distant lightning storm, reminding her of a memory she longed to put away. A town had been destroyed. No, not just a town. A fighting chance. Humanity's fighting. And now it was all going to shit.

Enough of that, Mona silently scolded herself. That's why you're here. Now, chin up. There's work to be done.

Mona braced herself as the carriage lurched to a halt. She peeked past the dark curtains, catching glimpses of a heavily fortified palisade and the approaching figure of a heavily armed hunter.
"'Hoy, there." The guard's voice was gruff and impartial, yet there was no mistaking the underlying caution. "State your name and business."

Mona drew back her curtains and leaned her head out far enough so that the symbol around her neck was visible. "Mona Rosewall. Cleric. I was summoned, post haste, and I'd like to arrive on time." A drip of impatience bled into the last of her words, causing an ever so slight downward twitch from the corner's of the sentry's mouth. He studied the pale woman for a second before doing an about face turn and marching back towards the gate. A brief commune with the other hunters later, the carriage was moving towards the gates once more. Mona released a breath and sank back into her cushioned seat. A part of her felt a pang of guilt for snappish attitude, but that quickly faded in favor for familiar annoyance. Kind or no, she had a job to do.

It wasn't long before the jostling of the carriage came to a gradual halt. Mona stepped out from the carriage, shivering as the chilly air surrounded her in full force. Clutching the fringes of her shawl, she strode towards the looming visage of the manor, paying little heed to the coachmen collecting her things or the stable hands rushing forward to fetch the horses. Only did she near the threshold did she pause. Mona clutched her holy symbol and closed her eyes, muttering a quick prayer of strength, before bracing herself and stepping inside.

Vivienne is distracted as she follows the steward across the courtyard. It is a busy place with several people walking in and out of the dirt square. Due to her distraction, she does not notice a woman enter through the gates in front of her. The woman is a fair skinned maiden with white hair and a scar on her right eye, she holds a cross of Avacyn in her hands. Vivienne does not see Mona in front of her, because she is not paying attention. Her path leads right into Mona. Just before collision, Vivienne's peripheral vision detects Mona and the Cleric turns her head to see the obstruction. In mid step, about to collide with the white haired maiden, Vivienne panics and leans to her left. The weight of her bags betrays her, and her balance is totally lost. Despite trying to scramble her feet beneath her, she only ends up tripping over herself and her momentum carries her forward, face first onto the ground. A puff of wet dirt sprays out around her and a few people momentarily stare, then continue about their business. For a single moment, there is only silence, as Vivienne's brain does not fully understand the situation. The firebrand lies completely still, with her bags on the ground beside her.

Suddenly, she lifts herself off of the ground and jumps to her feet without her bags. Her face is a dull red color with flecks of mud on it and she looks angry; her leather armor has several mud streaks on the front. She slowly turns around to face Mona, her eyes piercing like daggers into the obstacle that caused her to fall. The fall is entirely Vivienne's fault, due to her carelessness, but she does not admit this to herself. An accusatory finger rises and she pokes it toward's Mona's chest.
"Watch where you're standing you.. frosty... tart!" Vivienne shouts her impromptu insult at the woman. Vivienne snorts and it sounds roughly like a bull about to charge, the steam from her boiling temper is nearly shooting out of her ears. Vivienne sees the guards above the gate looking towards her and realizes that getting kicked out of the fortress for punching a frosty tart on the first day wouldn't look good for her. She takes a sharp breath through her nose and exhales hot air through her mouth. Viv closes her eyes for a moment and then opens them, staring menacingly at Mona. "Don't cross my path again.. or at least pray before you do.." The fiery cleric grits her teeth and slowly picks up her bags. She glances back to give an icy stare to the woman before hurriedly stomping off after the steward.

Gallus

 

[Hal lucination]

-Tel Norik-

Tel silently dashed across the fields, until at last he came to the enterance of the Silver Fortress. One of the guards approached him. “Ah, Flicker. How are you doing?” Tel looked at the guard. “Not so bad, Will. I’ve been summoned urgently to the Silver Fortress, though, so if you could open the gate, that’d be great.” Will nodded and signaled to the other guards and they opened the gate. Tel walked in waving at Will. “Good talk!” Tel said, and seemed to dissapear into the courtyard.

Tel walked silently across the courtyard. He once again looked around at all the people going about their business within, the faint thoughts of earlier scratching the back of his skull. As he observed, he noticed a minor commotion gazing on across the courtyard. There seemed to be two clerics in a fight. He stepped in for a closer look. “Watch where you’re standing you.. frosty... tart!” The red-haired cleric growled. Tel watched the cleric get mad and storm off. He approached the other cleric. “What was that about?” He asked.

 

[Gallus]

Mona Rosewall

---⊱▪◈▪⊰---​

Mona recoiled as the redhead tumbled over, her troubled thoughts fleeing like startled fish as her wide gaze fell onto the fallen woman. "Excuse you! Are you al--" Her sentence faltered as she caught the furious look on the other woman's face. Oh, damn it all.

"Watch where you're standing you.. frosty... tart!"

Mona prided herself for being a woman of peace. Or, at the very least, one who preferred avoiding unnecessary violence. Humanity was as sparse as it was precious and, unless one's neighbor was an unholy abomination that crawled its way from the drudges of the darkened wood, targeting one another was a slippery slope to imminent destruction. Having said that, Mona had the sudden desire to deck someone right in the fiery face.

Her eye widened with bewilderment before narrowing in disdain. "I'd say the same to you," she snapped, "but clearly you can't see anything with that big mouth of yours in the way."

She glared as the redheaded cleric stormed off, fists clenched, before forcing herself to take a deep, steady breath. Avacyn help me, she thought bitterly. If I see that harlot again, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Her fists unclenched as she forced her frustration to the side. Calm. She had to stay calm. There was no point in getting frustrated now of all times, especially in a place like this.

“What was that about?”

Mona didn't bother to turn her head towards the approaching hunter, merely acknowledging his presence with a soft Hmmph. "Nothing." She dusted off her dark robes and raised her chin. "Just that some people need to learn a bit more grace." With a huff, she strode across the courtyard, barely heeding the rain, into looming manor.

The interior was warm. Mona released a breath as she walked through the wide entrance, shoulders relaxing as she took in the grandeur. She had been here once, when she was still young and small and very much afraid. Only shadows of that memory remained--flashes of muffled conversation, the dust-covered hem of Seris' robes, the tang of incense from the nearby temple that still clung to Mona's hair. They were but haze-ridden visions now. Yet as Mona gazed around the hall, a feeling of warm familiarity washed over. It was almost enough to melt the chilliness of her previous encounter. Almost. Forcing her eye forward, Mona strode towards the main room, eagerness mixing with her apprehension of meeting the rest of the contingency.

Proletariat H Hal lucination​

 

[Brendanfp]

-Maria Lothric-​

The rain fell softly as if it knew of the hardships both behind and ahead. It battered the roof of the stable like a hail of bullets. Maria was fond of unexpected nightly showers. She loved how the rain provided her cover during the night, washing away her scent and erasing her tracks. If only the rain wouldn't wash away the fresh blood the clung to her after a good hunt. As the first call of thunder roared as Maria noticed a figure emerge from behind Gehrman. Immediately her muscles tensed as she glared at the mummified figured. Her slender fingers had already wrapped themselves around the hilt of her long dagger. Her body was poised to pounce upon the mysterious creature, however, but just before her body could spring into action she had a moment of clarity.

"Patches?" She inquired as she gazed into his eyes. After a moment of consideration, it was clear that he didn't bare the eyes of a monster. "Well, I'll be damned! I finally meet the master of black powder... the mummy with a death wish... the big bang himself. I won't lie... I didn't expect you to make it past your first year of a hunter. Figured you would have blown yourself to smithereens by now." Maria cringed internally as she caught herself in a bad habit. She wasn't good with small talk or strangers so she would often just say whatever came to her mind. The huntress had a classic case of verbal diarrhea.

Mune

 

[loyalwolf]

Fai was nonchalantly walking towards the silver forest, keeping a stupid smile on his face and staring up at the sky. He wasn't sure why he was summoned and if he had his way he would be walking such a long way. When the raven came to the town he was aiding and delivered the letter he was a bit surprised. As far as being a cleric, he was regarded as talented and his experience is something most clerics and hunters appreciated. Yet, his attitude and personality is something most clerics and hunter did not enjoy especially in serious situations. I wonder if i'll be the last to arrive? I mean what would happen to my reputation if i was on time or even worse early! At that point began to slow his pace even more and started to whistle a happy melody.

He stopped now and then, to pick some flowers or medicinal herbs. He took a nap under a tree he found and enjoyed the company of the smaller anime he encounter. It was all rather pleasant and almost made the smile on his face seem real. Eventually he came across a field he knew led to the entrance of the Silver Fortress. When he saw the entrance, he began to skip across the field towards the entrance. The guards before seem ready to fight, but also confused by Fai’s actions.

“Well hello there gentlemen. I'm glad to see you all are here to protect everyone from any intruders.” he had his usual big smile on his face and mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Of course, if I wanted I'm sure I could of slipped in behind you but its good that pawns are aware of their roles on the chessboard.” Fai let out a small chuckle when he saw them get angry. “Don't worry warrior I'm only teasing. I am Fai D Flourite and I have been summoned to the fortress.” he then searched his person for a minute until he found the letter.

The guards gave him an odd look, but let the cleric past the gates. When he looks at all the people walking around and doing business, he couldn’t but notice how well he could disappear in the crowd. Anyone that looked his way would not be able to tell he was a cleric and that made him very happy. His eyes scanned the area to spot someone who stood out. He knew had to make it to the castle but what would people think if he showed up alone. So fai decided to skip subtle and just try to get any hunter or clerics attention. “Hello one and all! I fai D flourite have arrive and am looking for any hunter or fellow clerics! I also would mind a date or friends! I also like food! So anyone that can offer one of those things plus come here with haste.” Fai was animated and had a big smile on his face.
H Hal lucination

 

[Mune]

"Patches?" began Maria. Before Xavier could completely gather himself he was ambushed with recognition.

"Well, I'll be damned! I finally meet the master of black powder... the mummy with a death wish... the big bang himself. I won't lie... I didn't expect you to make it past your first year of a hunter. Figured you would have blown yourself to smithereens by now." spouted Maria.

"Ahhh well ya know I've been trying!" jested Xavier, pointing as his torn bandages. "Haven't had any luck yet, though." said Xavier with a nervous grin. "And if it isn't the queen veiled in blood! I had never thought I would ever be graced by your crimson presence..." stuttered Xavier. A few seemingly endless moments later Xavier was saved by a bombastic statement of presence.

"“Hello one and all! I fai D flourite have arrive and am looking for any hunter or fellow clerics! I also would mind a date or friends! I also like food! So anyone that can offer one of those things plus come here with haste.”

"Thank everything that is good!" whispered Xavier to Mydas who was contently perched on his shoulder.

"On that note I shall....ummm....go and get my bandages...uhhhh....fixed. Are you heading to the manor? Of course you are...what was I thinking....mmmmmm....I'll uh see you there then...ummm bye!" Xavier was able to push out of his mouth before quickly making his exit and heading toward the church.

"Mydas why can't I...people? Especially the nice ones...eh who am I kidding; I guess you're stuck with me you dirty pigeon." said Xavier quite solemnly. Almost as if orchestrated by a master musician Mydas flew off to chase a rat or something down an alley.

"I guess I'm stuck with myself then...not the worst company..." thought Xavier.

 

[BugDozer73]

Arthur made his way into the room, not trying to stay particularly unnoticed. He traipsed unenthusiastically into the foyer and somewhat slunk against the walls, waiting for the others to arrive. He sat there for a moment and watched the door open to reveal a cleric with red hair and a vicious look in her eye, walking briskly behind another hunter. She looked a little red in the face, and there were traces of mud on her outfit, leaving Arthur to wonder if she had fancied a bit of a roll in the muck outside. Not that it mattered to him. The others would be arriving soon, but for the, moment it was him and this red headed girl.

He racked his brain for a moment to see if he had any recollection of her, but found his knowlege of younger hunters and clerics to be rather.... lacking. For good reason, he left little room for thoughts other than survival and the hunt itself. The hunter waiting for the rest saw the woman and beckoned her forward.

"Aa yes, Ms.Vivienne! I am glad to see you have arrived. If you will just make your way in here as the others make there way in, we will begin shortly."

 

[Proletariat]

Vivienne storms through the manor entrance, carrying her large leather bags over each shoulder behind the servant boy. Her thoughts linger on the incident before, with the white haired one eyed bitch of a cleric. As she enters, the cleric hardly notices what is going on around her. It seems to her like a decent place. Old and creaky, but dry at least, and it did not seem too run down either, but well-worn.

Someone calls her name while she takes in her surroundings. She whips her head around, ponytail reeling, and spies an old man with white hair. She does not pay him much mind, he's probably an old perv of a Butler. 'For some reason old men seemed to be the most likely creeps.. Not that there are too many old men around.' She thought.

Not realizing who it is that speaks to her, Vivienne dumps her bags on the floor in front of her. They make a very surprising thud on the floor as the very heavy bags make contact. Vivienne seems to weigh less than her belongings. "Sure thing old man, here is the rest of my luggage, I think that servant boy has the rest of it. Just follow him." She lazily gestures towards the boy, who turns his head sideways to glance back at the scene. For a moment he pauses to watch the result.

Vivienne's stomach audibly grumbles, and then she belches loudly and scratches the leather that covers her stomach. "Phew, that was a good one. Know anywhere I can get some grub? I'm starving." Her comment doesn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular.

BugDozer73