Tales of Evanhearth: Siege of Cudsul {IC2}

[dreamingflowers]

Celine covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her gown. It wasn't the stench that made her do it since there was hardly any it was the gore, it made her feel sick to the stomach.
The state of the abandoned outpost appeared exactly as it had in the vision decimated in the aftermath of a goblin attack. There were no signs of life, the dead were silent......for now.
These soldiers had died a gruesome death, the goblins were ruthless. The bodies that were spread about the outpost were beyond recognition. Parts of humans and goblins were intertwined in a horrific necrotic mass. The sight of it was enough to floor even the strongest warrior who was unfortunate enough to possess a weak stomach. The pooring rain drenched the remains, cleansing them of most of the filth and blood covering them like a blanket. A rare few who's bodies were still intact were wearing their armour. Their weapons stuck out of the lifeless bodies of golbins which told her this had not been a regular raid. If it had no piece of metal or weaponary would have been left behind.

She dismounted her horse and as she walked into the gore chills ran down her spine. Careful not to show her disgust Celine wrapped her cloak tighter around her instead. Now seperated from her stallion they did not share their heat and she started to shiver slightly from the cold. Despite the gravity of their mission she couldn't stop herself from thinking about him. It seemed like every place and object had conspired to remind her of him. Had Logan crafted the armour these soldiers had worn to battle? Did they die wearing his work?, or did they save it for a battle of glory and riches? He was well known for his craftmanship and detailing. She had been so happy with him. She was tempted to kneel down beside one of the fallen soldiers and look over their armour. Instead she just walked past them slowly her eyes lingering over every one of them. She watched the rain dripping down from her fingers lost in thought and surrounded by the dead.

The sound of the wind tugging at the foundations of one of tattered tents drew her attention. The two pieces of fabric which made out the entrance were flapping widly with no pins to tie them down. The sound set her on edge and Celine withdrew her knife from beneath the heavy folds of her soaked gown hiding it within her sleeves. They would have to come out of hiding to get to her. Celine heard Myrad mention they should head for the keep. It would be their best option.
There was a light flickering in the upper tower of the outpost, a signal of life and the prospect of rest and warming herself influenced her judgement.
"I agree we should head for the keep, a light is burning up ahead" She crossed her arms infront of her waiting to see if the man of the East would agree as well. If there was anyone they did not want up there they could take care of it. A goblin could be held for questioning and a soldier could need medical aid.

[xbriannova]

Corpses fell with the bloom
Out of place, it gave a chance
A grave mystery

---

Hyousuke noticed the same thing as the light in the keep was pointed out. While it was an obvious call for optimism, he knew that it could be anything but that- Light could indicate many things. In an environment as ridden as war as this, it could be anything from a surviving guard to a goblin, if goblins could light lanterns and need them, or it could even be a ghost which was strong enough to haunt a room, producing light that used to exist at one point before the fateful battle. They would have to go in there and secure the room as it was the best place for an outnumbered group such as his. As they would soon be going indoors, the samurai dismounted and strapped his naginata to his horse, adding further unfortunate weight to the beast's burden such that it was slightly lob-sided as the weapon was bundled with his Yari, strapped to one side. He considered using his Wakizashi, which was ideal for close quarters, but considering that ghosts were reported to be common in the region, he preferred his Katana, which was blessed with an anti-spirit talisman. With one hand on his horse's rein, he unsheathed his family sword with the other, smoothly, quite eagerly- he hadn't held it for a day, and he enjoyed his sword immensely. To him, it would serve as his last bastion of Nipponese culture. It was his family's legacy- his legacy, and it represented the samurai spirit, his soul. The Katana was a samurai's life and death.

"We need to go in with care." Hyousuke said, remembering that they were outnumbered and probably outmatched in equipment and skill (at least his social subordinates were). He was observing Myrad, who was disturbing the dead, a rather reckless move. It could offend the spirits, and it was morally wrong to him- the unfortunate incident reminded the samurai that Myrad was a mercenary- an occupation that had a severe, bad reputation and connotation in his culture. Warriors without a master were looked down upon, and many would rather commit ritual suicide rather than remain masterless. Those who continued living became Ronin, and were bandits, mercenaries, employed by people of lower castes to be guards and soldiers. Myrad's behavior summed up the stereotype of a Ronin. While Hyousuke tried not to judge as he was in a far different land with far different rules, he could not help but to feel his prejudices rising once again. He felt that he could not entirely trust him anymore, "I should be at the front. I need you both to guard the back."

Reaching the ruined entrance of the keep, he lead his horse- no sense leaving it out to be either stolen, slaughtered or revealing their position. Quickly tying the reins to a secure bar, he held his sword two-handed, cautious of what could come.

[Disciple Cain]

The light was only flickering from near the top of the tower, while the doorway and main floor were almost pitch dark due to the lack of natural with few windows in the stone walls. The torches upon the sconces have long since been burned out, a couple even scattered and broken on the floor in the scuffle. It seemed that there was no place in the outpost that was without death, but without the rain to wash it away the stench of blood became much stronger. The bodies of the goblins were much more plentiful within, as the defending humans cleverly bottlenecked them through the door and shot a good few down from the stairs as they filed in, the rest still managed to charge up the stairs with spears and blades to push through the defenders however.

It was strange, though... some of the dead goblins were still clutching what appeared to be human-made weapons in their hands. As far as common knowledge went in these lands, goblins commonly wielded weapons made with flint and stone and wood. Then again, it was indeed mentioned that the goblin raids usually ended with lost tools and weaponry... that weaponry seemed to be just the kind of edge the goblins needed to do real damage.

From the carnage on the first floor it was difficult to tell who really won the battle. With luck, there may perhaps still be someone alive in all of this mess...

A hulking beast of a lightning bolt crashed into the mountains so violently that the ground quaked underneath them for a brief moment. The bolt briefly lit up up the room to show a glimpse of the chaos. Behind the bolt of lighting, however, was another sound. It was difficult to make out what it was, but it seemed to come from up the stairs.

[dreamingflowers]

Celine followed Hyousuke to the entrance of the keep. She led her horse to the walls of the keep where an iron pole protruded from the stone using it to secure the reins. The black stallion started to pace back and forth. The thunder rumbling above them made the animal restless. It was no use to try and comfort it as it would be outside all night. She started to stroke the bridge of its nose an old trick her grandmother taught her. It calmed both the animal and its owner. An unfitting sense of serenity came over her. She knew these moments were very short and she quietly closed her eyes for a few seconds to clear her mind. Slowly she relaxed her body releasing the tension letting it flow outwards. They had been traveling for a good few hours and she was starting to get tired. A few minutes of quiet contemplation was all she could afford before her mind would wander back to him. For one thing this journey served the purpose of distracting her. It had at least stopped her from giving up again. She had given up once before and she could never forget how that ended. That would never happen again.

They were gathered at the entrance. Hyousuke needed both Myrad and her to guard his back. To put it differently he didn't trust either of them to face their possible enemy. Celine let her knife rest in the palm of her gloved hand. Admittedly she wasn't the best fighter but she was far from defenseless. She had used this knife before and it had not been for the harvest of herbs. She could and would kill to defend herself. However there were other methods of defense and she much preferred those. As if to prove her point she reached for the clay doll which dangled on the side of her bag. Magic had always pulled her in, she was inexplicably drawn to it. Bending magic into curses gave her a sense of power and sometimes a wicked satisfaction that came with the territory of vengeance. Celine let the doll hang on her wrist ready at any moment to use its magic against her enemies. She felt much safer with it than any other weapon.

The smell of blood inside the tower was overwhelming. Celine was determined not to let it distract her and she took in her surroundings. There was almost no light and what little there was came from the top of the tower. It worried her. They could be assaulted and they wouldn't be able to see their enemies until it was too late. She didn't waste any time on the main floor and made it to the stairway fairly quickly.
She dragged the heavy folds of her gown behind her stopping only when the ends got stuck behind the broken end of an axe. Her heart started to beat faster and she grew impatient. It was dangerous to stand still in a poorly lit room of the ravaged outpost. She pulled the ends loose ripping her garment in the process. Celine did not pay much attention and didn't even look behind her to assess the damage. It felt like they were being watched and she clutched the clay doll wringing her hands around it. The darkness did not scare her but the enemies hiding within it did.

"We shou....."

A white hot bolt of lightning crashed into the mountains. The intense blow dazzled her and she couldn't even hear herself gasping. She quickly folded her hands in prayer to the sky trying to calm both herself and the raging storm. When thunder and lightning assaulted the sky nature had been angered. "May whatever angered you soon meet its end Dark Sister" she whispered to the skies.. The flash lit up the stairway and the carnage spread on the steps for a few short seconds. The dim light coming from the top was barely enough to see where they were going.

"I feel like we're being watched" she whispered to both warriors.

Her suspicions were confirmed when an eerie sound could be heard from the top of the stairs. It fascinated her and she could not define what it was. She checked to see if her companions were noticing it too. It wouldn't be the first time she heard things others did not.

[xbriannova]

A shadow flits by
A bamboo forest at night
Tigers growl, crickets sing

---

As was the case with peasants who were drafted to fight, Hyousuke could feel his companions' spirits slipping away, at least from the way Celine was speaking. It had all but half-confirmed what he believed- that his comrade-in-arms were not entirely trustworthy, or at least were less honourable than samurai. On the other hand, he himself was quite affected by the developments in the keep of the outpost. There was an unidentifiable noise, unlike anything he had heard of. Moreover, all this while, even before he entered the outpost, he had always been on his guard as he was in unexplored lands, at least from the perspective of a Nipponese such as he. He was always expecting something outlandish to happen, or an enemy too strange to comprehend. Now, he found himself in a strange fortification with extremely vertical, unrelenting walls, with a keep that appears so barbaric and run-down. Everything was dark, and what Hyousuke cannot see, his mind replaced. He imagined creatures and demons from his own mythology to be haunting the keep- after all, those that can no longer be seen in Nippon for millenia must have settled elsewhere...

Cold sweat drips from his forehead as he held his katana two-handed, close to his face, his smaller fingers tight, ready to swing. His past training and experiences flashed before his mind, competing with the fear within him that he doggedly resist with his Bushido ideals. He pushed the thoughts of death far away. "Keep strong! Stay with me!" He shouted at Celine and Myrad in a bid to keep the tiny group together, keeping his voice down, as low yet as loud as possible. He continued to ascend the stairs, quiet not by choice, but because his sandals and light equipment makes it possible. Hyousuke, being a samurai meant for the open battlefield, prefers a more straightforward approach, and as such he made no attempt to hide or keep low.

[Arcturox]

Celine's whisper of warning reached his ears just as the sound she described did. It was a grating, gravelly moan. A lightning flash of adrenaline shot through his body as images of spirits that could be waiting around the corner flooded his mind. He held his breath and kept listening, his heart beating like hooves across his chest. As the sound became clearer to him however, there was something else to it. A wetness maybe? Myrad's ears strained to catch the intricacies of the sound. It's erratic pulse sounded more like… strained breathing. It couldn't be a spirit with a sound so clear and, well, disturbingly fleshy. As the three party members moved forward through the keep, the sound became more and more clear. It was hard to tell whether the breathing was human or not, but it was decidedly alive. A simple glance exchanged between the three was enough to convey the understanding. There was at least one survivor left in this outpost, friend or foe. Ahead of them was a thick door splintered and torn aside by some sort of ram. The inner keep was littered with corpses, a few torches that had been left on the wall lit the room in a solemn, deep orange. Barely flickering flames cast skittering lengthy shadows against the solid stone. The heavy forced breathing broke into a brief cough bringing everyone's attention to the largest piling of corpses, one particular body was haphazardly leaned against one of the thick unforgiving walls. The man's chest slowly rose and fell as the remnants of his breath shrank in and out of his barely-conscious form.
"There." Myrad said, pointing and still whispering. While the body in question was certainly human, they still didn't know what else may lurk within the fort. Despite his wariness, Myrad strove forward to the collapsed soldier quick as he could, beckoning for Celine. If Myrad could assume anything about this man, it would be that he needed of a healer.
"Hello? Sir, can you hear me, can you speak?" Myrad talked to him as loud as he could without breaking the keep's deathly quiet, "where were you wounded? And have the goblins fled the fort?"

[Disciple Cain]

Cuts riddled his arms and legs through his chain mail, and once again it was impossible to tell which was his blood and which was goblin blood. He was still weakly grasping his longsword and shield, both of which shared much of the same fate as his body-- cut up, battered, and covered in blood. The man was slumped up against the wall next to his fallen comrades, and from the looks of the carnage around him he was the final defender and the last to kill. It was unclear whether his wounds were fatal or simply severe, but his labored breathing showed that he had already lost much of his strength. His eyes were barely open, but he leaned his head back so he could see the three. By the looks of him, he'd fought the good fight and managed to win against what should've been insurmountable odds, but the cost brought his allies down all around him. It was a wonder why he was still bothering to hold on...

...And then he spoke.

"The goblins..." he choked out, "The... the goblins fought to the last man. They... they fought like..." he seemed to quiver as he thought back upon what happened, "Beasts," he tried to clear his throat but ended up letting out a phlegmy cough instead. No blood... a good sign.

[dreamingflowers]

At the sight of the wounded soldier, Celine immediately rushed forward to his side. The soldier opened his mouth, struggling to speak, but nothing came out but a raspy groan.). She knelt down on the floor closer to the wounded soldier, her usual cold and detached expression changed into one of concern. She needed to act soon or he wasn't going to make it. Celine tried to figure out if it was safe to move him so she could better reach his wounds. She reached for his neck and moved her hands to exposed parts of his body gauging his reactions, watching for any sudden movements or sounds. The only sound he made, however, was his woeful groaning from the pain. There were no immediate deep wounds and from the position of his arms and legs nothing seemed to be broken. He might have internal injuries and those could kill him is she moved him in the wrong way. He wasn't safe yet-- far from it.

"His bones aren't broken," Celine announced, "But we should not move him yet." She grabbed her bag and rushed to get out the things she needed. She got out a small brass bowl in which she placed a bundle of tinder, liting it with her fire stones. As the small ember burned she added a handfel of herbs from one of the many small sachets she had retrieved from her bag. . A heady scent filled the room, driving out the stench of the dead. The incense produced a smoke which seemed to calm the nerves, and the smell weighed heavy on the senses.

The soldier attempted to speak, most probably to address her properly, but she placed a finger to her lips to silence him. "Sshhhh, don't say anything....." She quickly got to work, the soldier got to her more than he should. She was feeling a sense of dread she often felt when someone could not be saved. It made her insides crawl so for the present moment she turned away, focusing instead on the preparation of her ointments.

"I will need help to clear out the room," Celine told the others as she continued preparing.

[xbriannova]

Souls gone to river
Bodies cold and warm remain
Women held their breath

---

Hyousuke was unsure if he should assist his lower allies, but in the end he decided to- back in his homeland, back when he still had a home, his clan had thousands of soldiers and servants to do everything the leaders ought not to do, but here, in this land where even the ground feels different, he had only himself and a pair of strangers with the same mission. It would already be a blessing if he had even one of his former servants with him. Sheathing his Katana, he started carrying the dead away, piling them in corners, whispering mantras for forgiveness and excuse for disturbing the dead. He could already feel the spectral anger in the air. Goblins and humans alike, he moved away.

Beyond that, he started looking around for anything clean to lay the survivor on, and in a corner, he found the backpack of one of the fallen soldiers, and on it was a largely unmolested roll of... something that looked similar to the mats his peasant soldiers used to sleep on. Pulling that out of its strap quickly, he unbuttoned it and unrolled the bed nearby, which turns out to be made of cotton, something a little more luxurious. He racked his mind for any solutions he could think of to assist Celine and help the soldier survive, but his herbal medicine knowledge was useless outside his homeland, and what practical medicine he knew could not be well applied without the proper tools- might as well allow Celine to practice her craft, he would only impede her. There was only one thing that could help, but not by much. Taking out his consecrated water, he prepared to administer it- although it was primarily used to heal wounds of the spiritual nature, as he had explained to his westerner friends, it does have a small effect on physical health. Every small bit would help, just as how a small but skilled army could pick apart a larger one through wit, however slight it was, "lay him down here. He should drink this."