Storms ravaged the castle walls. The moaning and whaling of undead and lost lost souls echoing through out the torn down and ruined settlement. The entrance to the settlement beneath castle Lokri. Many undead have gone here and hallowed, but the promises of treasure and perhaps a way to rid this world of the curse has lead many undead to these lands, though most now have become hollow. Time is disorted, darkness lingers around every corner, and the dead refuse to die. How did you get here on this road of sacrifice?

The silent figure of a newly arisen undead shambled forth, a small pendant on a chain held in a clutched fist. He marches onward, the pain wracking his body doubling with every step. His skin was raw and red, his eyes sunken and tired, yet his mouth was stretched wide, somewhere between a genuine smile, and a pained grimace. Three arrows stick out of his back, recent injuries, that stifle his movement ever more.

He stumbled forward toward the coiled sword stabbed into the ground. It was cold, unlit, unkindled. Still, comfort could be found in ash. He stopped in front of it, and reached out. Fire sprung to life on the small sword impaled mound, and the figure fell to his knees in front of the flame. He fell over, and curled up, shuddering.

Ever forward, the cloaked figure shambled through the storm. Every flash of lightning reflected off his massive iron blade, and his metallic helmet. He had heard much about this land near the Castle Lokri. Sure it may have all been rumors and hearsay, but considering the nature of their world, there was always a chance that what was spoken wasn't mere fantasy. So even through storms, against mad men and hollows, of demons and monsters, the one known as Malakaus continued his journey. But this was not a quest he was on alone.

Near him was a woman, covered in a similar cloak to his own. Her eyes burned with a smoldering fire like a flame on it's last breath. She was Syndere. Without her Malakaus would not be on this journey, traveling to this far-flung end of no where looking for whispers and shadows. Because of her Syndere was able to keep Malakaus sane. Because of him, Malakaus was able to protect Syndere.

In the distance a small fire arose. Syndere smiled, but Malakaus readied his blade. Flames awaken when they birth new life. But that life could very well end their own if they weren't careful. Malakaus took the lead and continued towards the flame while Syndere followed at his heel, eager but also ready to fire. In her hand was a mere ember, awaiting the kindle it needs to become a roaring inferno. As Malakaus came closer to the fire he called out. "You! State your name and purpose here!" Another flash of lightning illuminated Malakaus' silhouette and the glint from his great machete.

The prone figure gasped, and rolled over to push himself to his feet. He turned to face the source of the voice. How he wished to answer, to call out in jubilation in finding possible fellows. He merely smiled, however, and waved at the pair approaching. He looks around for a way to answer the warrior's question, when he spots the scar on his chest. 'Hammond'. It would work. He slowly approached, pointing at the carving in his flesh.

Hammond partially wished he had his weapons drawn, but another part didn't want to seem threatening. He stepped forward, his arms splayed to the side in what he hoped was a welcoming gesture.

Stiffness found her first, before vision returned to her or noises came distinctly. Within the confines of her armor and the light garb beneath, a bitter chill troubled her, though if she had chosen to rest in the open she would have instead been cooked inside her armor, providing some stray killer didn’t find her first. With bones aching in protest and muscles only a little less fatigued after a short sleep, the good sister roused herself from the little treeclump hollow where she found refuge. As much as she despised sleeping in armor, and as much as she longed for the sublime comforts of her far-off convent, Delphine seldom took it off. In this foreign land what security she could find came few and far between, so she held what she could close, in the hopes of staving off an accursed death. Brushing aside a pile of leaves, she recovered her hidden greatneedle and little shield, and just as she had done every day she slung the former onto her shoulder and the latter onto her left arm. When she closed her eyes in those woody confines, the dusky halflight that passed for day shone from above, and now darkness had yet to fully fall—she could not have been out for long. Still, judging by the sound a storm was soon to roll in. Delphine paused to take off her glasses and rub the frustrating grogginess from her eyes, replaced them, and took a step forward.

Through the spindly, grasping branches of the forest crashed an enormous bird, though second glance confirmed it to be anything but natural. Its head seemed to be a carnivorous contortion of bone, spiky and intimidating, and other plates and spikes adorned its being; it was a carrion bird in more than name. The undead vulture let loose a piercing shriek and extended its neck to snap closed an ivory-white beak on Delphine’s skull. Still not entirely lucid, she cried out as she swung wildly with her greatneedle, and the long, thin blade cleanly cleaved off a third of the monstrosity’s head. It recoiled, remarkably unperturbed by the grievous wound, but took off to find easier prey elsewhere.

Heart beating like a frenzied drum, Delphine rushed through the deadwood away from the place of the encounter. She ran until her breath grew short, and she drew to the edge of a little cliff. At its bottom lay an expanse of grass littered with rocks, many stacked into crude cairns, pillars, or arches by people long ago. Delphine thought the more open area a drastic improvement to the claustrophobic, shadowy forest if she was to be traveling, and set to gauging the distance for a drop. As she did so, she did not think twice about a vague shadow passing overhead, and only realized its import when the huge buzzard bulled into her from behind, sending her flying off the cliff in a tangle.

In the air, her screaming flew wasted into the wind, but her battle instincts fired up. As the creature struggled to free itself from the human that gripped it, Delphine maneuvered herself on top and, holding her weapon by the blade, poked it into the feathers that hung like rotting leaves on the bird’s breast. When they hit the ground, the force propelled the sword through the monster and into the earth, as well as sending Delphine rolling on the ground like a sack of bricks. When her senses came flooding back a moment later, a wave of pain came with them, telling her that several of her bones had been broken. Drops of rain washed the dirt and blood from her face where a chip of stone had cut a stinging gash. Feebly she reached for her belt to pull out a talisman. Her recitation of the Great Heal suffered several interruptions by way of bloody cough, but the light shined upon her nonetheless, and after a moment she was able to stand with bones renewed. Still aching and distraught, Delphine pulled her sword from the dead bird and cleaned its blade as she walked. It took only a few minutes to traverse the field of artifice, and no enemies appeared on the way. Moving down a little path between some boulders, she spotted an orange glow in the distance that restored a small light in her eyes. Delphine moved quickly toward the bonfire, finding the terrain perfectly manageable, and slid down a short, dusty incline only to find the bonfire occupied by three others. Her hopeful energy died instantly, and her clutch on the greatneedle tightened, but beyond reason she dared to believe that these undead would not strike her down in her weakened state where she stood. Would her tale end here, after all?

Malkai's was about to cut the stranger down when Syndere put a hand on his shoulder. "No... he can be useful." She whispered softly so only Malakaus heard. Shortly after a wounded woman in armor arrived. Malakaus pointed his blade at her, but once again Syndere had him lower it. Then she raised a hand, engulfed in flames.

But instead of immolation, a giant ball of warmth protruded from her hand near the bond fire. "Fear not. This fire brings warmth and comfort. Approach this hearth and let us speak. My name is Syndere. This man here is my guardian, and his name is Malakaus." Syndere called out to everyone over the rain and storm. Those who approached the bond fire would feel a soothing warmth engulf their bodies and heal their woulds. Syndere simply stood near the flame, smiling pleasantly.

Hammond sat once more, smiling at the growing number of strangers joining him. Perhaps his luck was turning. He inclined his head at the pyromancer, a show of thanks for the warmth of her flame. He once again gestured to the name carved into his chest, tapping it twice before pointing a thumb inward to indicate it referred to himself.

Once he made that point, he decided to try to communicate further. He pointed north, into the settlement, he then mimics an archer drawing a bow and firing. With a grunt of pain, he yanked one of the arrows out, and held the point to his forehead. He raised a hand and held out four fingers. Four times they had slain him. He barely survived the fifth attempt. He brought out his only weapon, a club. Clearly of no use against such opponents. His poorly shield wouldn't fare much better. He shrugged, smiling still.

Tallow didn't like what did the signs around her were saying. Thunder out there, somewhere in the distance wasn't a pleasant sound to hear. It meant that a storm was coming. And it's was going to be painful. Tallow cringed a little, thinking of rain, hitting her skin and grew determined to find herself a place to hide from the upcoming nastyness. The colors were slowly losing their colour with clouds gathering around.

She was going through a rather open section of a hill. Tree stumps were scattered around and not a single one of them look like someone sane would have cut it. They were broken off at random heights, some of them entirely out of the ground, just lying on the surface. This road was a really great find, for anyone would have a really difficult time setting up an ambush. Despite that, the danger of rain of arrows was still present, especially with the glow around her, making it easy to spot her. And one had to be careful, for whoever it was ruined most of the forest in this area, must have weighed a ton.

It thundered really loudly, right besides her. She could even see the lightning bolt, hitting the ground several hundred meters in front of her. The bold stunned her for a moment and the droplets of water, that sizzled once they touched her woke her up. Every single drop of rain that hit her skin made her feel as if it was raining nails or needles. She gasped and started running, with the power that she still had in her. It was a numbing feeling and she had lost conscious understanding of what was happening, and yet, she still ran.

When Tallow got back to her senses, she was hiding under a fallen tree, which had some protection from the rain, so much where she could actually endure it. She closed her eyes for a moment, but just before, she noticed something down a steepish slope. There was a bonfire lit and several undeads around it. 'Only undead gathers 'round a bonfire.' she thought. 'So the rumour was true. That undead started gathering at Lokri's Castle, trying to break the curse.' She snickered and looked down at the ruins of the settlement nearby. From her position and with dark surrounding, she couldn't see much, but there were several dim lights moving around in the far ends of the settlement. She gave up trying to see anything in the settlement, trying to focus on the bonfire down the slope. She noticed four people by the bonfire. 'Preying on humanity, aren't you?' she whispered to herself.

Because of the rain and the shock she just went through, she has forgot she and her clothes gave of a dim glow, and in pure darkness, she was pretty eye-catching.

Amongst the chattering fellows meeting near bon-fire, and one stranger trying to spy from afar, a great cry broke the sound of the pouring rain and thunder. Twas not a human cry, but one of a great bird screeching into the darkness, A big one most likely given the intensity of the sound... yet, for a time nothing further interrupted them...

A short distance away, high up that slope where a smoldering woman hid from the rain beneath a tree, something 'did' interfere, as a heavy object Thumped against the tree beneath which she hid, coupled with a strange voice shouting potentially angry gibberish that vanished into the sounds of the rain, only for a strange being to become visible once more smacking into the wet ground beyong and tumbling most expeditiously down the slope.

Moments later the sounds of said Tumble could be heard by the others who had been gathered, muddy splats and further high toned gibberish as the figure tumbled into the vicinity of the bon-fire, miraculously avoiding striking anyone, before tumbling further still and finally coming to a stop with a heavy WHUD! as it smacked into a nearby rock and then lay still... for a time...

...

Suddenly there was a cheer from the muddy mass as it leapt up and threw it's arms high "WOOO! You were dead on! Good eye!" Who it was talking to was a mystery, but the voice sounded a little echoey, as if from inside a helmet... It pulled something from amongst the muddy mess of it's outfit and suddenly made an exagerated throw up into the air-just as a massive Crow shot by and caught whatever it was. "I shall see you another day friend!" They even waved at it as it left the vicinity of the gathering of strangers... Then something else as tall as they were smacked them in the back and knocked them down once more.

They were up much faster this time though and collecting the object, which turned out to be an impressively large bow, and at last turned towards the bonfire and began jogging towards it while letting the rain wash off the muddy mess... singing, of all things "Ohhh, ~Your journey it began because, YOU DIED. Out of your cell you ran and then, YOU DIED. You pause to catch your breath, And die another gruesome death, So now you creep around each corner terrified."... Quite suddenly, at precisely the moment they crossed more clearly into the light of the bon-fire they made a visible jerk, as if only then recognizing that there had been other individuals there... "Nuṇḍi vandanālu mitrulu!" Was more gibberish that came as they suddenly waved to the group and continued close enough to tough the bon-fire... It was hard to tell if they were looking 'at' anyone specific with that strange helmet on "Greetings Stranger Friends! And thank you for the big shiny beacon, it improved my bird friend's aim quite a bit this time!"

Only after the menacing man threatened her, which sufficed to Delphine as enough cause to stick her needle through his exposed chest though said violence never did occur, and after the hospitable beckoning of the inordinately scantily-clad woman, did the good sister realize how badly she shivered inside her armor. The heat radiating from Syndere’s cast orb sang temptations to her, and gingerly Delphine approached. If not for the woman’s speech, she would have fled immediately, but in her travels thus far she found that hollows could seldom put words together. Delphine could not tell whether or not Syndere was undead despite her immodest and frankly embarrassing choice of dress, but at the very least she retained her mind as well as her body. No matter. This remarkable level of consideration from a complete stranger deserved thanks and praise. ”Th-thank you very much, sister. Your generosity invigorates my soul. Would that I could do unto you an act so recklessly kind.” No matter the situation, Delphine would not abandon etiquette, for it separated her from the undead.

Nevertheless, her uneasiness prevented her from seating herself by the fire, and her gaze fell on the other bare-chested man partaking in the fiery-eyed woman’s warmth. Did the denizens of this region not share the same standard of clothing as those of Eigenalle, or did they not understand the virtue of full plate? Regardless, she determined speedily that this man had at least hollowed some. His lack of verbal greeting seemed foreboding, and the gauntness of his flesh worried her, yet Delphine refused to judge him outright. Hammond, she read, the words as visible as the man’s smile. Watching his pantomime, Delphine furrowed her brows in concern for the man. Luckily, though, it seemed that the pain of arrows did not bother him as much as it might a living human. When he produced a club, Delphine froze, but he appeared to harbor no ill intent. As best she could discern, he wished to proceed down a nearby path, but a group of archers stalled him completely. ”Good evening. My name is Delphine. I’m a Prioress…a nun, if you have nuns around here.” Her eyes wandered the darkness, looking for the troublesome archers, but instead she discovered a soft orange glow up on a ridge—not quite fire, and not a trick of the light, either. Suddenly, she felt as if she were being watched, and by more than Malakaus, Syndere, and Hammond.

Before she could draw and definite conclusions, a terrifying screech rent the stormy air, and Delphine’s mind flew to the monstrous buzzard from earlier. Could it be that it survived being impaled!? No foe swooped down out of the darkness, however. Delphine could honestly say, were she asked, that she had no clue what was happening. Her greatneedle lay at the ready though, so she stood vigilant by the bonfire until a bizarre figure appeared in its light. Baffled as to what she was looking at, she thought about striking it but reasoned that no vicious monster would unleash that many gibbering eccentricities in quick succession; only a loony human could perform such a feat. Lunatics did not sit right with her, but if this one simply wanted a rest at the bonfire, she would not attempt to stymie him. Instead, Delphine drew back from the group and seated herself against a rock, fearful but now warm and casually optimistic.

Malakaus only grunted as Syndere allowed these strangers to gather. He can't say he trusts any of them, not Hammond or Delphine, and certainly not the singing loon. Hammon seemed like a deprived hollow, and Malakaus knew that the man would stop at nothing to enrich himself. Malakaus never trusted holy questers like Delphine, and certainly not the female ones. The loon spoke for himself; Malakaus knew the song he sung and it was practically the anthem for those who have given themselves to the cycle of death that was the Undead Curse. He kept a close eye on all of them, even as Syndere seemed more trusting.

Though it's not that Syndere trusted any of these people. it's just that unlike Malakaus, she wasn't so foolish as to anger all of them at once. If she truly felt threaten by any in particular, she would carefully set up her defenses against them while breaking down their own, and then strike them when they cannot properly defend themselves. Preferably from behind.

But thoughts of betrayal aside, Syndere figured that this party would have to do. "I have come here seeking a promised land where the chosen undead, bearers of the curse, and ashen ones could come and find an end to their suffering. Mmmph mph mph... Perhaps that's a fool's quest, considering how many others have tried and found only suffering... So I am such a fool. I would imagine that we all came here seeking the same, no?" As Syndere asked, Malakaus had been looking at Hammond trying to figure out what he's been saying. Or pantomiming, as it were. Obviously there were archers in the castle, so Malakaus could guess that Hammond tried and failed to get past them. He had only a club and a piece of fencing as a shield, so Malakaus was not surprised to see how he failed.

"Long story short is that we're going to go in there. And if we're all here, we might as well go together. Who knows, we might even make it." Malakaus was actually certain that he would. He's already been through things such as kindling the first flame, and even sat on the throne of want. He's never gotten the pleasure of being the lord of embers, but he took that as a blessing. Frankly, this undead curse was really weighing him down. He was simply growing tired of all the fighting and suffering. It was worse than nightmares; at least nightmares could be awoken from. He just wants to be able to sleep and never wake up again. "Now that I've rested up here, I'm ready to leave. What about you Syndere?"

Right after he asked that, Syndere rose from the bonfire. She felt herself rejuvenated by the flames, and her hands were engulfed in fire. The fire which spread to her ragged cloak, burning it off to reveal the full extent of her attire. Or the lack thereof. She seemed unarmed at her immolation and smiled at her guardian companion. "I can leave as well. But I would like to know if anyone else whichs to accompany us. I understand some of you need more rest, but even so the only way to go from here is forward. There is nothing left for us to turn back to now. So the sooner the better, yes?"