Desperate times call for desperate measures. When you're at the end of you rope even the most moral, reasonable people will do horrible things. And for those who have reached that point Brighthaven is the last bastion of hope in the deepest despair. For those who have nothing left to lose and very little to gain, for the lost, the forgotten, wretched, and poor, their only salvation laid in this city of thieves. Brighthaven was not a town without merit however; here those with nothing but their breaths can rise from nothing. But just as well, this place can be their grave. And Brighthaven is not even the most dangerous place nor where all will find their fortunes. No, that treachery lies in a place not too far, yet so distant: the Ruins of Norn.

A lost city, or perhaps even a forgotten land, rife with treasure. Ancient history lies in the dust and ashes, as well as great power that can change the face of the world. But this place is so treacherous that many have died simply entering the place, and so far none have returned the same. The few who have managed to crawl out have gone mad, but not without showing the world the glories within. Entire nations have fallen trying to search for treasure in this cursed place. Most consider it a living hell. But for the men and women who live a hellish existence, it will be their new home.

You have arrived to the ruins. How or where is known only to you. Wherever your starting location, know that you've just scratched the surface. The first part of these ruins is the hollow city itself; a massive crumbling ruin rife with gutted remains of civilization, now overgrown with vegetation and hostile life. Wild beasts roam in packs to hunt down prey they outnumber or can overpower. Even the insects and plants here can kill a harden warrior, poisoning them with just a scratch of infecting them with an unknown disease. It was here that most go and die. But you're different, hopefully. Perhaps you will be one of the few who can breach just the first layer of Norn and find the treasures within the depths.

---

Varrock is like many who enter the ruins; cocky and steady. After all, cowards do not venture even in the direction of Norn. But confidence is a slow and insidious killer. The armored brigand entered the city through a sewer entrance far too small for someone his frame, yet somehow he managed to emerge largely unscathed but smelling greatly of shit. Nothing he was unfamiliar with; bandit life hardly left him time to maintain his hygiene. Besides, this entire place always smells of death. Everywhere you went the scent of rotten carcasses wafted through the air. Sometimes you might even find the corpse, rotting, partially eaten, and stripped naked. Indeed, this place was oppressive.

"Bleh. I hope I can find some treasure that can deal with this scent. Literally shit."

Hefting his axe upon his shoulder the man lumbered forward. His destination was a large church; one of the few places that seems like it's still standing. he wasn't sure what he'll find there, but surely if it still stands after all these years of abandonment than surely there was something special about it. And while he was approaching the building he did make sure to keep his senses sharp; he had no interest in getting ambushed by the monsters hidden in the shadows or a cunning bandit looking to loot his axe.

Roy was tired and cold. It had been no more than two days since he had been on this land and he already been nearly mugged, his coin stolen in his sleep, and had to kill three men. Normally, Roy would have refused to step a foot into this place but the curse had forced him into a corner. Curses like these were exceedingly rare and difficult to break, even the best of the court mages in Briston had no idea how to deal with it. This place was their only hope of breaking the curse and Roy was not leaving empty handed.

The forest of Morkador, a place where even the most prepared of parties may face an untimely death and Roy chose to trek the forest alone. He did not wish to go here alone but after his 'guides' tried to rob and kill him three hours into the trek, he was sure he didn't need another problem to deal with. A number of hours pass without issue before he comes across the remains of a would be party of adventurers. The smell of blood was still present but the animals and monsters have not yet touched the bodies, save for some flies. He pauses for a moment...a feeling of ravenous hunger fills his mind as he gazes upon the lifeless forms of the dead. He shuts his eyes tightly and shakes his head to clear his mind. Now free from the thoughts, he grabs a handful of soil and places small amounts of it on the foreheads of the dead. A quick and common practice among worshipers of the divine to help ferry the dead to peace. Roy leaves soon after, hoping to avoid any beast or monster attracted by the smell of blood...though a growl behind him told him otherwise.

He turns to face a very large horned wolf growling at him. It had bared it teeth at Roy before it lunged at him. Horned wolves are known to be quick, but Roy was far quicker. In a flash of silver, the steel rapier was driven through the chest of the wolf mid lunge; stopped only by the hand guard. The wolf struggles while impaled on the rapier but with three feet of steel pierced through the beast's body and its heart, it quickly stops struggling. Roy lays the lifeless body of the wolf down while pulling the blade out of it and with a quick flick of the wrist. He then flicks off blood off the blade before sheathing it again at his side.

'To think this wretched and inhospitable land would harbor the salvation from the curse...'

He thinks to himself, walking away, heading deeper and deeper into the forest. It was nearly dusk when Roy finally saw the ruins of Norn. He could not help but smile. The only lead he had in curing the curse had finally lead to something. To him, this ruined city gleamed like gold under the sun. He would have wanted to go further but the day was coming to an end. He looks to a small dilapidated building near the outskirts of town and decides to make it his camp for the night.

The vardo wagon was painted crimson with engraving and window shutters limned in yellow. Unlike a farmer's wagon it was built for moving across country. Iron creaked, springs compressed, and the wheel of the wagon clambered up over the upraised root at the base of a massive tree. The wagon see sawed left and right, springs bounding against one another until it leveled out once more.

"By the nine hells," the driver blurted out as she held on for dear life.

The driver flicked one side of the reins, drawing the old horse away from the tree roots and continued onward, then relaxed once more. As much as one could relax given she was traveling the forest of Morkador. Blonde tresses shone beneath the light of the swinging lamp hanging from the pole overhead. Assallya was a vision to behold. Her skin was pale as new fallen snow, blushed with a touch of rose. Her eyes were azure, the colour of mountain pools reflecting the winter sky. She was wearing her black silks, similar in many respects to that which she wore in her time as a slave. After nearly a century wearing them it was what she felt most comfortable in. The dresses of these northern cities was so constrictive.

She sat back with her right ankle underneath her left thigh, leaning into the cushions on the high bench with one hand holding the reins, the other rested gently on her knee and only a short distance from the light crossbow she kept at the ready. Eyes sweeping the darkness just beyond the pool of light cast by her overhead lamp she watched for any sign of danger. Soon, soon it would be too dark to travel even by the light of her torch and she would have to heave to.

It's been a long and lonely road to Norn. Every night Yomiko is reminded of her family's illness. They had the best doctors they could afford, but that only keeps them alive, not cures them. How cruel and twisted that for all their efforts they were living on borrowed time, their fate in the hands of the only member of the family who didn't take their responsibilities as seriously. Or perhaps this was just fate. The gods twisted way of making Yomiko return to her family. No matter; she knew what must be done. She was going to find riches in these ruins and make sure her family has the medicine they need.

Yomiko had to cut through various threats on the way here. Mainly horned wolves; she recognizes the creatures from old stories and bestiaries. And she knew how to slay them. She also has read somewhere that the old ruins of Norn was still thriving, but it's inhabitants weren't among the living; while it could be said that the ruins are filled with the dead, nothing said that the dead were not active. Sure brigands and desperation may live on the ruins surface, but somewhere deeper within was a city of undead. Yomiko hoped that if she could find them, they could help her. Or at least won't try to kill her. A girl could hope.

But first thing first; she needed to find some landmark as her destination. This ruin was too vast for her to wander aimlessly and hope that she could stumble upon something. She could see a church in the distance that might make for a good vantage point. If nothing else, it might be a safe place to set up camp for the night. So adjusting the swords on her waist and making sure her papers are sealed Yomiko walked towards the church, hoping to find something of use within.

"Your darkness beckons." So snarled Yenqinor as he conjured a globe of darkness to blanket the vision of the two goblins readying themselves to charge at him, and then burned them to a crisp with a sheet of flame surging into the pitch blackness. With a flick of his wrists he extinguished the flames around his hands as well as the darkness, and moved forth to quickly pat down the charred corpses of the goblins for anything of value. A small, silver amulet was found around the neck of one, a mere trinket. Yenqinor clasped it in his hand and smirked; that may fetch a pretty penny from the next passing merchant caravan. With a flourish of his cape, Yenqinor pocketed his lucky find and would carry on down the road. "Oh, how the weak fall." So he mused as he stepped over those blackened corpses.

He had been travelling on foot for some time now, never having taken the time to learn how to ride a horse safely and effectively. Nor did he want to splash out on a steed when there were scrolls to be bought and bribes to be made. The long, winding road leading towards the ancient ruins of Norn once he exited the mountain pass between him and his home town, was fraught with peril, yet to him it was nothing more than ample opportunity for him to hone his skills in the arcane arts, each challenge another step closer to his ultimate goal. Achieving power comparable to that of a demigod, or beyond!

Late evening swiftly approached, but Yenqinor thrived equally as well in both day and night, owing to his keen senses and ability to see perfectly well in the dark, thanks to his angelic heritage. Still, even Aasimars needed rest and even someone as power-hungry as himself craved sleep. Perhaps he would find something of use in the first major landmark he had come across since he had left the mountain pass; a large church. Seemingly deserted? But a fitting locale to search for ancient scrolls and texts that could become of use to him while performing his nightly rituals. Excellent. He drew his cape around his person, keeping a low profile, and started down towards the church.

”Finally. One step closer to my dream.”

The ruins of Norn were terrifying. It reminded Ashe of her country after it was razed. She could see the former glories this place had and wondered what had to have happened for all of it to be lost. If perhaps there was a lost king or even princess hoping to restore it to its former glory. ”No. don’t distract yourself now. Focus on your mission.” Ashe continued down her path, bow and arrows in hand, venturing deeper into the ruins.

She needed to figure out where to go. Some locations seemed pretty obvious. There was a large church still standing that could be a useful landmark. But no doubt others have seen it and thought the same; Ashe couldn’t afford to run into violent types right now. No she needed to look elsewhere. A ruined keep it mayor home perhaps. Somewhere that would have the information she sought. If she couldnt find it there, then she will risk looking around the church.

Ashe knew her cities well and knew how to best find a keep, they would ya e the most open roads so their armies could sally it quickly. And even among the fallen ruins and rubles Ashe can clearly see the path before Norn’s fall. Making sure she wasn’t followed she would sneak along this road to the city’s Fortress.

Steel reflected the sun's rays as a heavy blade was brought down onto a goblin's head, splitting the creature in twain. It's bone helmet was no match for the tempered steel of Joseph's sword. Four more rushed him but their meager weapons failed to puncture through his armor, worn as it was, as he retaliated with a wide swing of his sword. It cleaved through two and cut one, leaving the final goblin who had barely managed to avoid getting slashed down. Seeing that it was alone it turned tail to run, only to get stabbed through the back by Joseph's zweihandler. It slipped off his blade, took a few steps forward, and died. Cleaning his sword of the gore using some cloth from the goblins the stoic knight continued onward. Onward into the ruins of Norn.

As the adventurers gathered, the ruins began to stir. The smell of prey was in the air, and they will find not peace, but endless torment.

---

As Roy was setting up his camp, a pack had followed him. They smelled the scent of their kin on his blade, found it's corpse, and sought the one who had slew their sibling. Roy had killed a whelp, no one particularly important to the pack, but these horned wolves were eager to dine on man flesh once again. Unlike the whelp these horn wolves were older and stronger; their horns wrapped around their head and neck like a protective helmet, and their hide, though scarred from many battles, could withstand steel much better than flesh ought to. Five of these wolves converged around Roy's camp. One was the eldest, larger than the other wolves, and had a golden necklace wrapped around one of his horns. And without warning, they would charge.

@Searat

---

The sorcerer would have no chance to rest suddenly from the darkness a large stone would fly towards the horse. It came without warning and would likely kill the beast instantly, if not cripple it to the point that it would become dead weight. By now it had become truly dark, and there was nary a moon nor star in the sky to illuminate the darkness. Worse still, it was at this time that the creatures of the night were most active: Goblins. Though individual weak and diminutive, rarely are they ever found alone. Gathering around Assallya was seventeen goblins, crudely armed with stone weapons and slings, but among their numbers was a hulking hobgoblin. Over eight feet tall and more than five hundred pounds, this ogre of a gob carried a small tree as a club as he approached Assallya with his entourage of minions. Riding on his shoulder was another goblin, slightly larger than most but smaller than the hobgoblin, who had a shining buckler attached to his arm. Tonight, the goblins will have their fun...

@Assallya

---

As night came the worshiper of Asmodeus would become privy to some of the dark inhabitants of Norn. Specifically he would hear whispers, cries, and pleads from all around. Desperate men and women begging for their lives, for someone to save them, to rescue them from their doom. And from these whispers came the men and women who's wishes had gone unanswered. Undead dressed in tattered, broken, and destroyed garments, yet still clinging onto some faint memory of who they were. And as far as these undead adventurers knew, they were still fighting for their lives and saw Yenqinor as an enemy to destroy. Six undead warriors ran towards him brandishing rusted and broken swords, but one of them carried a mace that still gleamed even in this darkness.

@Cerius

---

Not all that lives in the ruins of Norn are among the living or the dead. Many are simply part of nature, animated and without purpose. These creatures have many names and for Yomiko she would soon learn of one of them: Treant. Seemingly just an overgrown but dead tree, it roared to life as it made wild flailing motions towards the kitsune. It knew not what it was doing, acting out only on basic instincts from it's creation. And those instincts? To destroy. Among the branches that made up the treant's head was a worn but solid satchel, jingling with a mysterious prize. But before it could be salvaged the treant rose from it's resting spot to attack the lone swordswoman.

@Norschtalen

---

Despite being a ruin life can still thrive here, especially upon the dead that litter the place. As Ashe walked among the ancient corpses that littered the place, she may have become wary of the insects that fed off their bodies. Larvae, maggots, and flies that fed even on the bones. And notably, far larger than any of these insects have any right to be. Soon she would hear a foul singing, as if it was a woman screaming. This screaming roused the insects and caused them to flee... Or rather, gather. And as if driven by deranged hunger or perhaps a spell, swarms of these insects would converge onto Ashe, intending to turn her into one of the many corpses they were feeding off of. And not too far, sitting along a fresh corpse still dressed in the gear he had purchased to venture into this hell, a fairy with a mischievous smile on her face.

@Ryonara

---

"Halt there. Ain't no one gunna get closer without paying the toll."

Bandits. Even in these haunted ruins, none can escape human greed and depravity. These bandits were dressed in piece mail armor, some had metal plates, most had rusted chain mail, but each were equipped well enough to survive on the outskirts of this wretched ruin. Seven bandits lead by a man who wielded two swords stood before the fallen paladin, his hand extended. A dark yet immaculate ring was around the bandit chief's finger. "Yer money and that fancy sword of yours. Give em up, and we'll let you walk. Don't, and we'll be stripping your corpse and putting your bones in a stew. It's a good deal, eh?"

@Zaphander

The sounds of the fire crackling in the ancient fireplace soothed the cursed musketeer. The dilapidated building provided meager protection from an attack but would give sufficient protection from the weather. He was still tired but at the very least he was warm now. Roy lets out a sigh of relief at the small respite from the difficult trek and slowly got comfortable. He was about to enter the realm of dreams when an elder horned wolf burst through the already broken door of the dilapidated building. Roy barely managed to roll out of the way of the surprise attack, only to be met with the full weight of another elder wolf tackling him from the side. The force knocks the wind out of him and sends him crashing through an old table. The dust has yet to settle when one tries to go in for the kill and lunges at the seemingly helpless man. It's hasty decision is punished when a sharp piece of lumber tears it's stomach open. Even with the durable flesh of the elder, it is rendered ineffective by the combined force of it's lunge and the power behind the thrust of the musketeer. The blood and innards of the first wolf pour forth like water from a broken pail while the second stands it's ground, unsure to what to do next.

Roy recovers from his prone position and walks over to the gravely wounded wolf, sneers at the quickly dying beast and turns to face the second wolf. The first wolf is soon to die and Roy considers striking a downed enemy to be below him. Drawing his sword and his pistol, Roy goes to his combat stance. It understands the threat of this man poses to them individually and lets out a bone chilling howl and, as if on cue, two more jump into the building and to face Roy. Then he knew that he was in deep shit. He had remembered the articles in bestiaries on how horned wolves mainly rely on ambush tactics and hunting in pairs to take down a single target, but if that fails to kill the target or one of them perished, the remaining wolf would opt to be more cautious and let out a howl to summon more of it's kind...though, rarely, the alpha would come to deal with especially difficult prey personally. Roy hopes to the divines that it wasn't the case.

Sweat was dripping from his brow as he eyed the three elder horned wolves. 'With numbers like these, a direct fight would be suicide. Unless...' Roy quickly scans the room and observes half rotted support beams on the ceiling as well as the weakened load bearing walls. Time has worn down the building and given enough force, a load bearing wall would collapse and the whole building to follow soon after. Roy gained a brilliant idea and knew what to do. He acted upon it just as the three wolves decided to take the man down with a simultaneous lunge. As the three wolves lunge at him, he deftly rolls under the them to avoid the attack and set his plan into motion. All three to crash into a wall with great force and the weakened load bearing wall easily gives way, causing the whole building to tremble and quickly collapse in itself. The musketeer makes a mad dash to the outside and barely manages to escape as the three wolves are crushed under tonnes of stone and wood.

Roy gazes upon the ruins of his former camp and lets out a short bark of laughter at this victory. He thinks he had won and was about to get up and leave for a better camping position.. until he sees the massive alpha horned wolf staring at him. Roy is considered to be a courageous man but the sight of the gigantic horned wolf caused his hairs to stand on end and blood run cold but rather than letting fear grip him, he instead converts the fear into something more useful. Fury. He grits his teeth in both righteous fury and determination and takes a defensive stance against the alpha.

Assallya would just have done about anything for the opportunity to smoke just a little bliss. Unfortunately this was not the place to indulge in such pleasures. This was a dangerous place, and all manner of man and beast were drawn to the power secreted away beneath, earth, rock and stone.

She was circling a massive stone shaped into a hilt sticking up out of the dirt. It was massive. Probably belonging to some great statue to song hero or king of long ago. The pommel of the stone hilt reaching three men high into the night. The blade of it, if intact, must have pierced the heart of the world. What manner of people could construct such a incredible feat of both art and stonecraft?

She had just come around the structure when the giant rock struck. Larger than the size of her head, it slammed into her horse, felling it instantly. Her shocked, wide eyed gaze followed the path back to the ogre sized creature and gaped for a long moment as the goblins came rushing forwards. For a moment she was simply speachless, agog at the ferocity of the ambush. She was might bit smaller than a horse. That rock could have annihilated her and he had thrown it with a great deal of accuracy. It was at that moment she surmised that they weren't interested in just killing her.

This sort of thing was outside her experience. The blonde sorceress was at a loss. More than two dozen assailants! Certainly she could quell such numbers but not without someone to shield her from their advance. Searching her repertoire she considered several options. She could cast a sleep spell. That would affect, maybe, a third of them. The rest would likely be rather upset and opt to kill her swiftly. She could charm the hobgoblin. Him turning on his own might make a huge difference. Another possibility was to summon some monsters of her own. Their numbers would be less than the goblins but they'd definitely be a distraction.

So many choices...

Finally she decided, uttering several arcane syllables and gesturing with her fingers and twisting her wrist. Four orcish warriors manifested, coalescing out of swirls of shadow and thought. It was less than Assallya had hoped for but . After a moment's confusion the green skinned warriors growled while one uttered a shrill cry before rushing into the conflict.

Yomiko’s ears twitched as she sensed movement near her. Subtle but close. Her eyes widen and she jumped back before the treant’s branch could crash into her. She landed on her feet and looked at the tree. Old, but tough. It’ll make for good kindling. She knew that her sword could be used to whittle away at its bark hide, but that could chip her sword and she knew it wouldn’t really hurt the beast. Or worse, her blade may get stuck and she’ll be a sitting duck. No she needed to strike for its heart, take it out with one blow.

Not to mention get that mysterious satchel in its branches. Surely something useful in there. Gripping her hilt with one hand Yoniko charged towards the treant as it was going to swing at Yomiko again. She jumped over and into its arm as she ran towards its head. As it would try to attack her, Yomiko focused entirely on evasion until she was close enough to quickly draw, slash, and sheath her sword and remove the satchel from the branches.

Once she secured the package Yomiko put as much distance between herself and the treant. No doubt it was going to follow so she needed to look through the back quickly. Anything that might help her escape or at least distract the plant giant.

Yenqinor spotted the incoming undead clearly through the darkness, not a moment after he heard those voices from all around. He would crack a sly grin, revelling in the anguish of those men and women long gone, and stand his ground even as he cupped his palm upwards, a flickering ball of flame coming to life upon it. "Ha, you fools! You would challenge me!?" They probably didn't understand him, but just saying it out loud gave him that 'evil' high he relished so. With words of power forming on his lips he would launch a burning streak from his hand at the approaching group; it blossomed into a large explosion of flame that engulfed four of the undead warriors and would effectively melt the rotted flesh off their bones. They would collapse, only for one of them to arise again and resume its charge behind the other two. Yenqinor retreated a few feet and worked the fabric of the aether with his hand gestures, voicing another spell as he raised a shield of magical force in front of him, just as one of them struck with its gleaming mace which met the invisible barrier with a loud clang. An idea quickly came to Yenqinor and he clenched his fist towards one of the undeads rusted blades, inciting a simple trick he knew which caused the blade to frost over and then shatter into pieces as it also collided with the invisible barrier. The third undead swung, and he deftly backstepped the blow, light on his feet. For if he was to acquire unthinkable power one day, what good would it be if he couldn't hold his own in a simple fight?

They came at him relentlessly. Yenqinor had a dagger out by this point, having tried but failed to his sheer annoyance to down the severely burned undead warrior with a stab to the neck, receiving a nasty cut across the upper arm for his efforts. Thank Asmodeus that it didn't pierce his skin anywhere else as he thought those rusted blades could cause all sorts of complications. The invisible shield held for now, allowing him to focus them down one by one in relative safety, along with his natural agility. He conjured a ray of fire and hurled it at the damaged undead, which managed to finish it off this time and then another at the next, which somehow did the same as it split in two at the waist and collapsed. Undead flesh didn't stand much of a chance against all-consuming fire. The last one charged once again with its mace; he dropped a globe of darkness over its head. As it stumbled blindly, he shot off multiple motes of fire into the darkness with a graceful flourish, knowing that a few would hit. They did, and the mace-wielding undead stumbled back out of the darkness with multiple burns and areas of exposed bone. Yet it kept coming, albeit a little slower this time. "Here's your retribution!" He cried as he slapped himself on the chest with a reddish orange glow spreading across his torso, and with a mighty heave, he spewed forth a torrent of fire from his mouth, enveloping the undead warrior and destroying it utterly just as it closed the distance with him and landed a heavy blow on his left shoulder before going down. He veered to the right and blinked, feeling a tad woozy from the pain and cupping his injured shoulder. "Well, that just happened." He muttered to himself, attempting to shake it off and compose himself as he continued on towards the church.

Looking around Joseph quicky counted seven bandits. Childs play. Hes dealt with bandits before, and while he would temain coatious he knew what he needed to do. Joseph stepped towards the bandit chief and planted his sword into the ground before him. And then Joseph smashed his shield into the chief’s face. He had to act fast now; two bandits were already lunging at him. Gtipping his sword toghtly Joseph shifted his position to dodge the two, smashing anither brgand in yhe skull with the edge if his shield. With one mighty seing he pulled his sword out of the ground and flung a large cloud of dirt in the fave of three other bandits whk were trying to get behind Joseph, blinding them temporarily.

Hefting his blade onto his shoulder Joseph stomped his foot forward and cleaved a brigand doen shoukder to hip. His chainmail armor was no match fir the paladin’s heavy blade. Dragging the tip kf the blade out from his bidy Joseph looked as the remaining bandits were recovering and grtting ready ti attack. Joseph wouldnt give them a chance to rest as he plunged his sword into the chest of one kf the brigands, like stabbing a pig with a spear. Three down. Four to go.

The three brigands attacked Joseph with clubs and swords. He raised his shield and blocked thr clubs, and when they tried to stab him in between his olates theyd get foiled by the chainmail underneath. All Joseh had to do was shift his weight to disarm the thuggish thieves of their pitifil weapons, stick between the folds of his armor. He stomped on the foot of one kf the club weilding brigands and then smashed the guard of into the man’s chest, pucturing his lungs like a warpick. One tried to tackle Joseph; he jumoed back and held his sword aloft firmly, letting the man run into his blade. With one swipe he was disembowled.

Now that just left two as the bandit chief was recovering from his stunning blow. The last bandit didnt last long as he saw his compatriots cut down without nary an issue. He tried ine more desperate assult, but Joseh easy parried the swing with his shield, smashed the pommel into the man’s guts, and as he was kneeled over Joseph broke open his skull with another pommel smash. He turned to the bandit leader while taking a dagger out frkm between his breastplate.

After Roy dispatched the wolves one by one, the final alpha made his appearance. Despite how swiftly the others fell this behemoth of a monster did not seem particularly perturbed by the turn of events; indeed in his mind, the weak would be eaten by the strong. That is how he lives, and that is how he'll die. And to defeat someone who would have the strength and intelligence to defeat his kin, the taste would be sweeter than any treat he's had before. If they were capable of dialog the wolf may have even asked for Roy's name. But this was no time for words. The beast lunged forward quickly, crossing the space with alarming speed for a creature of his size. But he did not simply charge in blindly; this beast was more intelligent than that.

As it ran past a fallen log, it picked up the wood in it's maw and hurled it at Roy with alarming accuracy. If he did not have the strength to block or the speed to dodge, he would surely be crushed underneath the weight of the log. But the wolf, having observed Roy, was confident that he would attempt to dodge the log either by jumping back or over. Thus the wolf was prepared to do the same: as the log was being hurled at Roy it would leap over the log with it's front paws forward so that it could catch Roy in midair, as well as keep itself a safe distance from his sword. And if Roy had jumped back, than the wolf would be in the perfect position to aim it's full weight down onto Roy. Sure it may get impaled through the paw, but unlike the rest of his fellow wolves he knew better than to let his body be exposed to blades.

@Searat

---

Assallya's orcish warriors engaged the goblins, attracting the attention of most of them. At least twelve including the hobgoblin went to battle the orcs, confident that their vast numbers and the hobgoblin's brutish strength will win the day. That would leave five more who have chosen to go after the woman. The look of violent and lust was clear in their eyes; if they were not stopped Assallya's fate would be worse than death. However something occurred that was unexpected. From the darkness, a large stone was hurled at one of the goblins. A brick the size of their heads; smaller than the rock the hobgoblin threw but still of considerable size.

"Well well well. What do we have here?"

From the shadows came a warrior clad in iron, his carved out smile gleaming in the dim night light. Varrock enters the fray. "Goblins are underneath my pay grade, but I'll make due with you." A dark chuckle came from his lips as he approached, his greataxe in hand. The goblins, now down to four, split their attention between the two humans. Two went after Assallya and two after Varrock, all the while the other goblins were combating the four orcish warriors Assallya had conjured. Their battle was only beginning.

@Assallya

---

After dispatching the undead Yenqinor would continue feeling the weight of the mace blow long after he left the battle. It may have been a broken bone, or at the very least a nasty wound; perhaps there was some sort of poison on the mace's blade. Either way he would make it to the church with relatively little difficulty, save for the darkness and unfamiliar terrain. As he would approach the church he could hear a low droning noise coming from within; perhaps it was chanting, but it was so muffled it was impossible to make out any words. The church's main entrance was barred from the outside; giant strips of wood nailed to the front to prevent entry. Or perhaps it was to seal something within the church? Even the stain glass windows, although remarkably untouched, were also boarded up. It would take considerable brawl to pry the wood off, and even if they were burnt, it wasn't hard to see that more wood also boarded up any point of access on the inside as well. This church had been converted into a makeshift fortress of sorts.

Aside from the church itself, there were a few things of note on the outskirts. There was a graveyard with nearly all it's grave dug up, no doubt their occupants now wandered the ruins. There was an altar that appeared to have been used for some bloody ceremony, as a red skull and more than a thousand flies continued to feed off the blood and gore of whatever profane ritual occurred here. There was also a well on the opposite side of the church with a rope and bucket, but no water. Too dark to see how deep it went, but even when the bucket was at the end of it's rope it did not sound like it would hit the bottom. Certainly a long drop. There was a bell tower at the top of the church and it's bell was still in place, though obviously not in use at the moment. What will this wanderer do now?

@Cerius

---

A quick scan of the satchet's content would reveal a few items. A journal, a roll of charcoal in a silk handkerchief, and three vials. One contained red liquid with a red cross painted on it. Another was a vial with red liquid but a white skull painted on it. And the last vial had an orange liquid with a drawing of fire on it. As she observed this the treeant turned it's attention onto Komiko and groaned. He slammed his fists into the ground, even though he was so far from the kitsune, and from his hands small but quick roots busted from the ground and went for Komiko. If she didn't move fast enough they would wrap around her legs and entangle her, and if she tried to cut them with her sword they would ensnare her blade and climb up her arm. Even as the treant removed his hands from the ground these roots would continue to harry Komiko as it lumbered towards her with violent purpose.

@Norschtalen

---

The bandit chief rose to his feet quickly but by the time he did so his men were dead. He wasn't surprised, they were weaklings who had begged him for mercy, less he had slit their throats. He shouldn't have relied on such cowards anyways; he was the only one who bothered to brave the ruins and plunder it for riches. "Not bad ya dastard, but yer not gunna have it easy. Those whelps couldn't kill a rabbit. But I survived this place for ten years, and that ain't about to end!" The chief charged at Joseph with a swipe for his eyes. However with a sleight of hand, the chief had not only laced one of his blades with a liquid poison, but he would splash this poison directly at Joseph's face. Even if he wore a full-face visor the chief was confident that some would seem in and distract Joseph long enough for him to get a stab in. Unlike his men who used rusted iron daggers, the chief's sword were made of strong steel and could pierce the chain underneath Joseph's plate, if not the plate armor itself.

@Zaphander

Roy could feel his heart beat a mile a minute as the alpha horned wolf began it's charge. Though it's sudden decision to toss a log straight at him was surprising to the musketeer. He could not think quickly enough consider the outcome of his reaction but let his instincts and training training take the reigns. Roy jumps over the log successfully. Not so much with the accompanying alpha horned wolf. Knocking him out of the air, Roy falls flat on the grassy dirt, knocking the sword and pistol out of his hand. The alpha was quick on its paws and with an almost savage glee, lunges at the his prone form with intent to tear the man's throat wide open. The wolf's maw meets not the flesh of the man, but the hard leather armor that protected and cushioned his throat. The beast's teeth fail to pierce the armor but the sheer force is enough to stop Roy's ability to breathe properly. To make matters worse, the intelligence of the wolf made it so that it had quickly realized that the bite was not enough to kill the man and begins to thrash around; hoping to choke the man out or break his neck. Whichever came first...

Seconds felt like hours. Roy had little hope in this situation, he was under the mercy of the alpha horned wolf that was sure to kill him. He was slowly loosing consciousness before he felt the familiar touch of his pistol. As a last ditch effort, Roy mustered up all his mental and physical prowess and took the pistol and jam the barrel under the alpha's skull and pulled the trigger. The natural defenses of the alpha were no issue to the signature pistol of the musketeer. The Bristonian pistol was designed to deal with heavily armored foes and puncture through thick plates of armor...the flesh, bone, and horns of the wolf were nothing to the pistol. The wolf's maw loosens around Roy's throat as the alpha wolf slumps dead on the grass with brain matter and blood gushing out a hole the size of a small orange at the top of it's head. Roy quickly sat up to take a lungful of air and couldn't be even more grateful to the divines as the refreshing feeling of being able to breath again fills his being. Though the wolf lay dead beside him, it had left its mark. Roy had difficulty breathing and was sent into violent coughing fits as swallowing was too painful a task at the moment.

Roy was massaging his throat to help ease the soreness when he saw the golden necklace still wrapped around the horn of the dead alpha. He looks at the pendant and unwraps it from the horn, curious as to why the trinket was wrapped there in the first place. Quietly in the night, he inspects the necklace.

The elven sorceress breathed a sigh of relief. She had been on the verge of panic before but this new adventurer's arrival shifted the odds from being impossible to only fairly likely that she'd end up being captured, defiled and slaughtered. A quick appraisal at a glance, all she could afford given that two of the goblins were headed towards her, proved somewhat optimistic. The new arrival had all the signs of a hedge knight. From her experience, hedge knights were usually far more taken with nobility and morality then their highborn kin. The smiling face on the face-plate seemed rather strange and perhaps a bit obscene. Why that was painted there was a question she would have to ask if she survived this ambush.

During that glance, the two goblins raced towards Assallya but for the first time she felt a bit more confidant. She was atop her vardo and the easiest way for the goblins to clamor up was to climb the horse which was currently bent awkwardly over and twitching strangely as its crushed mind attempted to make its body gallop. It would take them a moment, Assallya reasoned, to figure out that's what the brass rails on either side of the wagon were for.

In the meantime she had to make another decision. There were three groups to act against. She could help Varrock, at a calculated risk to herself, and thus convince him she was a friend or she could defend herself. Alternatively, she could help the orcs she'd summoned who were likely to be annihilated by that massive goblin creature in short order. She knew what to do and it certainly wasn't helping her new companion. She couldn't be sure her chosen spell might not affect him too.

One good thing was that the goblins seemed to have the idea of taking her alive. That afforded her some leeway in her actions. She turned her attention to the grand melee with the orcs and the goblins. Her ice blue eyes, glittered as she extended her ebony painted fingernails at them. Fingers twisted and gesticulated; magical words slid off her tongue, defying the ability of the mind to comprehend. The spell of sleep slipped over her ebony painted lips and rolled gently down the sides of the wagon, across the ground like a fog, licking at the trunks of trees, curling about their roots until they gathered around the ankles of the goblins and orcs. Seeking the weakest of the combatants the magic took hold and a half score of their number found their movements growing languid, their eyelids drooping and then they found themselves falling to the forest floor.

"By Myrkul's shriveled black balls," she exclaimed emphatically as her slender fingers reached out and wrapped about her light crossbow while trying to figure out where those two goblins beneath her might have moved while she was casting.

The battle between the orcs and the goblins were not looking good in the orcs favor. While they managed to kill three, the hobgoblin had taken advantage of the orcs momentary distraction to kill one of their own, and another orc had gotten stabbed to death underneath four goblins. The other two weren't looking too hot either, with the hobgoblin relatively unharmed and the other goblins still eager to fight. However just as things were looking bleak, four of the goblins suddenly dropped. This left only four more goblins and the hobgoblin to fight off the two orcs. They were still outnumbered, but seeing this sudden development gave the orcs strength to fight on.

Things were looking slightly better for Assallya and Varrock; sure enough two goblins were clambering up towards her like the nightmarish gremlins they were. However there was two things they did wrong: first they were trying to get ahead of eachother. This ultimately slowed each other down as they pulled on one another to get ahead. And secondly, they had no way to defend themselves against Assallya's weapon. Even if she didn't consider herself a marksman, it would be easy for her to shoot the goblins at this range. All she needed to do was aim and shoot. As for Varrock, two goblins were hardly any trouble for him. They both charged him, one getting cleaved in half as soon as he got in range of Varrock's axe. The other jumped onto him and tried to stab into his neck, but his dull knife couldn't break through the padded leather neckguard. It didn't take much longer for Varrock to grab the gremin, toss him to the ground, and crush him into a gory paste underneath his metal boot.

"Moving on..."

@Assallya

---

At first the golden necklace seemed just that; a shiny trinket. However once in Roy's hand he could feel his body feel a touch more... Fortified than before. Not in the sense that his body had toughen, but but he did feel as though he was more resistant to something while holding the necklace. At the very least he would know that this thing is innately magical; perhaps if he could find a mage they could divine the exact enchantments of this necklace. Or he would just find out what it does through various trials and errors. Regardless, the night was quiet. Even though there was chaos happening elsewhere in the ruins, they were too far for Roy to detect. No where else to go but forward.

@Searat

Sparing a glance at her newfound friend, Assallya silently cursed him. She had to admit, right at this moment she was rather jealous. Their stone weapons were no match for a good set of field plate even so motley as it seemed to be. Her complete lack of armour was exceedingly apparent at the moment.

Firing at bottles on a field-stone wall was a far cry different than shooting someone in the heat of the moment. With a grimace crossing her lovely face Assallya aimed her crossbow at the first advancing goblin and then, exercising poor form, she closed both kohl shaded eyes and squeezed the firing lever. The light crossbow bucked in her arms and the feathered bolt loosed, lancing through the short space between her and her goblin attacker. It caught him high in the bicep and he forgot all about climbing as he fell screaming in agony.

However, the next goblin was upon her. He had clamored up the dead horse's tackle and had planted one green skinned hand on the cusp of her wagon's roof. Assallya lashed out, her pale bare foot striking at his face and the small green fiend grabbed her by the ankle and yanked. The act put her completely off balance. She dropped her crossbow and found herself sliding forwards even as the goblin pulled himself up.

His small hand was pinching some of the gold anklets against her skin painfully while his other hand reached up and grabbed the vardo's wooden bench. He used them both to pull himself up atop the wagon.

"Sharess' tits..." Assallya exclaimed as the child sized monster literally towered over her, "I yield! I yield!"

Yomiko didn't need to cast a spell to know that one of these vials was an alchemist fire. Just her luck: what better to fight a treant with than fire? As it attacked Yomiko, instead of running away she went closer, jumping off the stone work to avoid it's roots. She only had one shot at this; if she missed than she was going to have to do this the hard way. With roots behind her and the treant in front of her Yomiko hurled the alchemist fire at the treant's body before sliding between it's legs, narrowly avoiding getting herself crushed by it's mighty fists. The glass vial would shatter against the tree monster, and the very air would ignite the alchemist fire and set the whole thing ablaze.

And yet Yomiko knew that this alone wouldn't be enough to defeat the treant immediately. It may find some way to put the fire out, or simple survive the burning. No, if she wanted to finish off the beast for sure, she needed to strike it's heart. Allowing the flames to build and grow on the treant Yomiko continued to play defensive until she saw the right opportunity. Once it made itself apparent, she lunged forward, her katana poised to pierce the heart of the treant once and for all.

Roy kept the magical trinket in his pack, he was sure that the enchantment was supposed to make the user be somewhat more resilient to something. Until he could confirm the strange magics that was in play, he would use the golden necklace sparingly and with caution. As he was about to stand up, his vision blurs and he feels the world go to disarray before falling to his knees. He looks to down to a shaking hand, sweat dripping down his face and ears ringing, to see his skin go significantly paler as black veins seem to slowly creep up his hand. 'No...n-not now. Not in the open...' Roy thought to himself before his mind was drowned in incoherent and chaotic thoughts. He had known that his affliction can act out at times, but never this severe. Maybe it was the smell of the spilled blood? The unnecessarily brutal acts of violence he had done? or maybe it was simply nothing and the curse was just slowly eroding his sense of reality?

In the chaos that is his thoughts, there was one clear and coherent thought, he needed a safe place to wade out the side effects of the curse. In his dazed and confused state, he manages to stand up and begin wandering the outskirts of Norn. Looking for something that even closely resembled a safe haven.