@6slyboy6

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"Well, I don't know about Mayon or much about religion," Cecil strode up next to Amy, flashing her a smile, a friendly two finger salute. She didn't know much about demons or the like, really. As far as she cared if she was here, she was part of the team. "But you can be sure, we won't let anything happen to ya."

"Ten out of ten, great line." The mildly unimpressed, irritated voice of Shael echoed in her head. "Eyes off her and on the obvious slaughter in front of us you philandering fool."

"Rude, I'm just trying to be nice. The fact she's cute is besides the point."

"...I'm starting to wonder if there's a woman you don't find cute."

"I'll cover the rear," Cecil stifled a chortle at Shael's response. "I'll let anyone know if I see or feel anything odd with the wind." Honestly, she was already dreading what was in this place. She was used to bloodbaths - being a mercenary most of her life meant she saw her fair share of carnage. She had really gotten somewhat used to it in the fact that it no longer really shocker her...but it still left her feeling just...sad, generally. A dextrous finger went to her quiver, quickly knocking and holding an arrow.

Lein

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Location: Abandoned Fort
Interactions: @VitaVitaAR @Psyker Landshark @Conscripts

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There was much to be anxious about with the Fort. The first was the newest member of their party, Amy. Held command over emotions, from what he had heard from the vague descriptions from the Church sisters, but he wasn't concerned about the unusual origins nor her esoteric powers of psychic interfluence. He was more concerned about what she was saying - "death hath come to dwell on earth." If only he could dismiss her as one of many crank doomsayers he met in the outlying whistle-stops, he could dismiss her words as just that: doomsaying. But if the many offers of assistance to her was anything to go by, most of the sortie seemed to trust the half-demon's words.

The chronology of events bode worse. The Fort was a day's ride away, and given their immediate sortie and credence to the messenger's promptness, that put them about two and a half days away from the messenger's first departure. The early autumn weather would make the bodies bloat fairly quickly too. If the vampire's uncanny senses were to be trusted, fresh blood remained somewhere inside the fort. That meant either there was some strange shenanigans going on with the bodies, or the bloodletting was still going on.

So why the silence? No signs of struggle, no large tracks from the outside that would suggest an aerial entrance. Barring arcane methods, that could mean the massacre was from the inside. Or voluntary. 'Bad juju' indeed. If only the messenger had yielded more information, or survived his delirium, they could know if it was a sudden onset of mass delusion similar to the ones that gripped the Candaeln knights a week prior, or that bastard Cazt vampire.

"Looks like whatever got the folk here they weren't expecting it. If the incursion started from the outskirts, they must've been very good at moving discrete." Lein replied to Renar, jabbing at the top of the battlements. "I'll take a gander up high, see if I can spot any of the buildings looking funny from up there."

"And don't start having fun without me, y'hear?" Lein said to the Ingvarr, before beginning up the stairs.

Fleuri Jodeau

As the fort came into view, Fleuri was already feeling quite uneasy. The means by which the message was conveyed- by a hysterical man who then dropped dead before he could elaborate on anything- was both very strange and very suspicious. The fort might be a rather mundane fortification that any defender of Thaln would be familiar with, but with the circumstances of the message, they were more or less going into this ordeal blind. Even so, it was the Roses' job to investigate and deal with whatever threat had come up, and he was going to do just that.

In the time since the last mission, Fleuri had focused almost entirely on training. There had been plenty to take in from the dream, particularly the techniques and moves that Florian had used against him, but he had also made a considerable effort to obtain instruction from Rui. He didn't know how long the foreign swordswoman would be here before being recalled back home, so he had been keen on learning as much as he could from her. The language barrier was still a bit of a problem, since Rui spoke very little of the language of Thaln, but communication had become slightly easier when he realized that Rui some of Talderian. Not quite the same dialect as what he had learned from the priests and priestesses that educated him, but it allowed for somewhat better verbal communication than in Thalnish.

He wasn't sure if his skill and lethality with a sword had improved by any measurable metric in the short time between the last mission and this one, but learning took time, and perhaps some more experience in the field would do him some good.

The first thing he noted as they arrived was that the fort didn't appear to be under siege. The relief from that first observation quickly died when he made his second observation- there didn't appear to be anyone on the walls. No sign of a battle on the outside, either, just an eerie nothing. Just what could have happened here? And was it still happening here?

Fleuri followed behind Amy as he had approached the fort. It was good that Fanilly had opted to take a cleric on this mission, even if Amy's repertoire of spells was not exactly the standard array of magics expected of a devotee of Mayon. A dedicated user of magic, even somewhat unconventional magic, could greatly aid them. Her partially-demonic heritage was very odd for sure, but what did it matter? The church saw only good in her, and if it was good enough for them, it was more than good enough for Fleuri. If anything, he was glad that they had another pious devotee of the goddesses accompanying them.

He wasn't the only one afflicted with an oppressive discomfort with this mission- Amy's ominous words suggested that she was even more at unease. In fact, she seemed quite certain that there was something terrible here. Fleuri wasn't sure what sort of senses that Amy possessed to pick up such things, but between being a cleric and having demonic blood, it stood to reason that she'd be more attuned to this sort of otherworldly stuff than the more mundane knights like himself.

"Steffen's right, you've got us watching your back," Fleuri assured the horned cleric. Once they reached the courtyard, he would stick close to Amy- it was imperative that the Roses stuck together, because Sir Rickert was grim proof of what happened when a knight was cut off from his brothers and sisters even for a moment.

@6slyboy6

@Crimson Paladin@VahkiDane@Conscripts@The Otter

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~Fort Daelantine~

As the cool night air riffled through her hair and gave a brief moment of respite from the assault on her senses that came from within the fort, Amy soon began to notice a new feeling creep into the back of her mind. It couldn't hope to dull the sense of terror that had taken hold over the area and which she keenly felt, but it was an emotion that nevertheless offered her wary mind a place to rest, a thought she could muse over when she needed something to hang onto.

Camaraderie.

Being her first assignment, Amy had already accepted the fact that she was more than likely going to either be ignored or heckled about her appearances. It was always how it went whenever she left the confines of the monastery where she was raised, and even though the Roses were members of the holy church, years and years of bad experiences had ingrained into her mind the sort of hostility and disregard that the vast majority of people showed her. She had reasons to hope it would be different before she signed up, but there was a deeply wounded part of her psyche that kept nagging at her, whispering into her ears the kind of corrupting thoughts that fester into unnatural fear when left unchecked.

But unchecked they were not, crushed underboot as a mere seedling and erased from existence, the barrage of reassuring words, looks and even mere presence of her fellow knights, shone like a beacon of light through the foggy haze of doubt and fear that clouded the her mind. A shiver ran down her back, and her fingers anxiously fiddled for a moment with the hem of her cloak. These people didn't care who she was, in the best of ways. Even with the sickening feeling in her stomach from the bloodshed that had taken place inside the fort, she felt the warm and reassuring emotions of her fellow knights as they urged her to stay close to them for protection. She could feel the hesitation in some, and the curiosity in others, but almost everyone seemed to accept her as a fellow member. Not a week since she joined their ranks, and Amy already knew: she made the right choice by joining the Roses. Now all she needed to do was to prove to them that their trust was not misplaced in her.

Finally she'd let out a small sigh, her pale fingers slowly removing her hood, as she let her snow white hair out of it's confines and it glimmered faintly in the light of Mayon. She was nervous, she was afraid and she felt weak at the knees when she felt the tremendous presence from inside the fort that she could never explain to the others. But she felt the anxiety of her comrades as well, and the desire to eradicate such emotions from her fellow knights gave her the strength she needed to finally to approach the fort. She was ready now, the warm and comforting feeling from earlier starting to gain more and more space inside her mind, the nausea induced by the bloodshed losing it's sway over her with every passing second.

She'd give a reassuring nod to Steffen, however shy, to let him know that she was feeling better now, though words didn't leave her mind until Cecil and Fleuri reassured her that they would be watching out for her. The softest of smiles crossed her lips as she gave a more eager nod towards the rest of her team, hastening her steps as she caught up with the rest of the knights with few ops and skips. "Right!" She beamed a confident look at Fleuri as she stuck close to him and Fionn, every passing second returning the strength of will that had been sapped away by years of cold shoulders and the dreadful entrance to the fort. "Thank you for the kind words, everyone, I'll do my best to aid you with Mayon's guiding hands." Amy spoke softly as she looked at the knights nearest to her, a quick smile flashing across her face. Her right hand reaching down her side, she'd grab her flute from her bag to prepare her catalyst in case they'd need her powers in a hurry, and she clutched the ivory instrument close to her chest. She'd glance over at Sergio to her side one last time, giving a nod to the knight who first offered her assistance after she fell from the reins of her horse. "I'll be fine, just a little stumble. And no need to call me signore. Amy's easier." With a wink and a nudge, Amy was really beginning to feel like herself as the party ventured into the fort, the uneasy feeling from before slowly fading into the back of her mind, as a renewed sense of purpose took over.

There was no longer any reason to hesitate.

It was clear that something awful had happened here, to be sure, but there was nothing that could be done but enter the fort.

They had to know.

Fanilly took a deep breath.

"Iron Rose Knights, advance."

She pressed onwards through the gate, and-

There was nothing. At least at first glance, nothing seemed amiss in the least.

And yet something here was wrong. Palpably so. The very atmosphere within the fort's walls felt heavy, weighty. Even Fanilly, who was not capable with magic nor with spiritual matters was able to feel it.

It was like something was pressing down on her from the moment she set foot inside. A heavy, unrelenting darkness, coupled with this iron scent...

There was blood.

Blood on the walls, blood on the ground. Now that she had entered and taken a good look at her surroundings, she could see plenty of it.

The Knight-Captain drew a sharp intake of the breath.

Beyond the blood, spilling from the doors deeper into the fort, were corpses.

Bodies upon bodies upon bodies.

The remains of the fort's garrison. Some of them, the most visible ones, appeared as if they had only perished very recently, but not a single corpse appeared to be older then a day or two.

Fanilly's hands trembled. Her blue eyes were wide.

What had happened here? There was no attack from the outside. There was no sign of anything.

And yet...

Stabbed. Slashed. Crushed. Cut.

The corpses of the fort's garrison showed just how violent their deaths had been.

It was nothing short of a massacre. While Fanilly had seen plenty of death before, she'd never seen anything like this.

For a few moments, she simply didn't know what to do.

For a few moments, the weight of the air seemed to grow, pushing down on her shoulders. The walls around the fort seemed less spacious, more enclosed.

The sky felt darker.

And then...

A door across the yard swung open.

"Nothing but corpses."

It was the voice of a girl. She stood out immediately, clad in light armor of leather and steel with long skirt. Her blue hair was tied into pigtails, and her eyes were crimson. While that would normally be a notable detail, they lacked the luminiscent qualities of a vampire's gaze and she was certainly not short enough to be a Nem, at somewhere around Fanilly's height.

In her right hand was a lengthy spear, crimson in coloration and metallic. It was likely steel, but the red hue didn't appear to be paint.

"..."

She paused for a moment, and in that instant Fanilly immediately turned to her.

For in this very moment, there was no doubt in my mind that the girl had to be behind this.

"Lay down your weapon and surrender at once, or we will slay you where you stand."

Her blade had left its sheath in an instant, drawn and pointed towards the blue-haired girl.

"... Oh?"

Bringing the crimson spear up to rest it on her shoulder, the blue-haired girl cocked her head.

"You must be the Iron Rose Knights, then," she continued, looking considerably less bothered by that fact then one might expect, "So you're the captain? Adorable. You've all been treating her well, I hope?"

She grinned in a particularly sharp manner.

"Surrender. Now," Fanilly said firmly.

Her grip on her blade tightened.

"You know you're getting all worked up about the wrong person, right?" she commented, idly, as if completely unconcerned about her situation, "It was already like this when we got here. Think about it, does it really make sense? This wasn't an outside attack."

Fanilly found herself hesitating. This spear-wielding girl didn't seem to have any intention of fighting, which was already strange enough, but it was true that an attack from outside didn't make sense. Not with what they'd seen already.

But who could have killed all the soldiers here? Who was possibly responsible for such a massacre, if not the one standing before them? She mentioned 'we'...

"Check..." Fanilly's voice wavered, "Ch-check the bodies."

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@ERode@PigeonOfAstora@Conscripts@Crimson Paladin@Creative Chaos@The Otter@Krayzikk@Psyker Landshark@6slyboy6

Walking into the fort, the oppressive weight within--accentuated by the way the sinking sun was casting the entire courtyard into steadily darkening shadow--pressing down... well, maybe the bodies didn't get as much a response from the vampire because she'd already been able to smell the huge quantities within. Maybe because there had been some things just as bad over the past two hundred years. Or maybe it was something even simpler, such as that bad eyesight. Nonetheless, once Tyaethe had trailed the captain inside, she took a sharp left towards one of the thin staircases that would lead up to the ramparts, jumping up to sit on a spot that at least lacked fresh bloodstains.

Her gaze looked out to some spot in the courtyard, rather than following the newcomer, and she piped up with an addition to the captain's instructions. "There are more inside, don't forget to check those."

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@The Otter

Fresh as advertised, barely more than a day old at most— not even enough time had passed for the corpses to truly begin rotting beneath the now-setting sun. The violence that had been rendered unto the garrison spoke for itself, extending past the mangled and rent corpses and cloaking the air— by the time they'd drawn upon the keep proper, he had no need of Paladin Tyaethe's enhanced senses to all but taste the blood on the air.

As though a grand ritual of sacrifice had been conducted to desecrate the place. This would have already been enough to set his nerves on alert, the cause still undiscovered, but then things...

"Nothing but corpses."

Things took a twist.

A tiny woman, scarcely bigger than their captain, was nothing much—

"Hey, Fionn." he breathed, voice colored by a strange mix of suspicion and intrigue. He recognized this one, if not by personal meeting— in their shared circles, her reputation had carried a fair distance beyond her person.

Blue hair pulled tight into pigtails. Crimson eyes, though not radiant with the unnatural light that Damon, Paladin Tyaethe, or any other vampire possessed— as far as he knew, no clearer-sighted in the dark than his own. A long, jagged spear of reddened steel alloy, as clear a battlefield identifier as any— tall tales spoke of it stained by blood, others as pulled from the maw of some vicious beast off the coast. Regardless, it wasn't congruent with half the wounds on display here— and too clean by half to cause the ones it might have been able to match.

"Alette the Shark," he began, locking eyes with the diminutive lancer as the tip of his sword was held aloft, point catching the last of the sun as it leveled onto the general direction of her face. His head tilted to the side, matching hers. "and her band— They don't operate this far south normally, far as I remember. Closer to your side of Velt, right?"

A professional rival, of sorts— every band was one to the others, as tradesman working the same market. The Regiment's stomping grounds and hers had the vague overlap one would expect of damn near anybody that campaigned in Velt or Estival. While he had no real antipathy here, it was good sense to keep tabs on competition. That she was here was... alarming.

It was clear enough that her reputation's preceding her was some measure of mark towards character, rather than against— completely untrustworthy scum didn't last terribly long on the field, nor as a unit. Warfare was their business first and foremost: to join a band like hers or his meant that the enlisted troops trusted the leadership to get food into their bellies. If she could build up ranks at all, she needed that much at the least.

It'd be remiss of them to ignore that facet of her station. In looking for work, her martial prowess would speak for itself. In looking for company, though... no matter how much it weighed odds in one's favor, it was a foolish soldier of fortune to overlook the other questions he should present to his leadership.

Are you successful?
Are you dependable?
Do I trust you to side with me, or with the employer?
Am I a comrade, or a pawn?

...

That last one bit at a thread he didn't quite like.

Regardless.

Your life was on the line when you made that choice. You were no patriot, nor champion, nor revolutionary. The question was whether you would be risking your life for someone who was worth trusting it with. That she had enjoyed continual success over the years meant she definitely needed to be doing something right on that front, near as he could tell.

Enough to hear her out. Enough to know she wasn't supposed to be so rock-brained as to bring the entirety of their order onto her head.

Lowering his blade, at the Captain's orders he stalked forward and began to inspect the nearest corpse, searching through for signs of... whatever it was she alluded to.

As he did so, his voice rang out to punctuate the point with direct address.

"Long way from home like this— The hell sort of take coulda coaxed you out?"

He asked his question bluntly, for the moment shedding his effortful airs of chivalry— pulling back from the five-year-deep well of experience that he'd dug in the common ground between them. He didn't expect to get a name from her— professionalism would dictate against that, but any hint would help them start to get a picture drawn.

By all rights, her being here was an anomaly.

Nicomede hoped that this wasn't the first time for any of the knights.

He knew it wasn't the first time any of them had seen a body, or the violence wreaked upon one. For many it wasn't the first time that they had seen a battlefield when it was over, strewn with the dead. This was different. This was a massacre, brutal and one sided. The bodies left where they lay, piled atop the friends and comrades that had lain at their feet before Death came for them too. And the time.... A body was a difficult thing after five minutes. After a couple of days it was worse. Some of the garrison had died brutally. Others had died indescribably. It would take a lot of work to... piece together all of the remains, given the state of some, but Nico was willing to bet that the whole garrison would be accounted for. If there were survivors, they were few.

Fanilly's reaction dashed his hopes, not that there'd ever really been a chance.

But Nico had stood in a place like this before. He had begun, even before they stepped inside, to push aside his feelings. To disconnect for the moment that part of his brain that cared about these people that had fallen, and pay attention only to what mattered. And that was why he put together before Fanilly did that this girl was not to blame for these deaths. At least not solely. No spear had inflicted all of the wounds that he saw.

Still, here she stood. She had comrades nearby. She was not a friend, not as far as Nicomede was convinced.

He reached out to the blood that clogged the soil beneath his feet, thick red mud that had squelched with every step. It was macabre, but it was the greatest source of water he had; if he needed to provide a defense, he wouldn't have the time to be choosy. The garrison would fulfill their duty one more time even if he had to apologize to their spirits later. But it wasn't time for that yet; he gathered the energy, the awareness, but he held it there. Waiting for the moment— if it came— where he would need to shield them.

Gerard knew the girl— Alette— so he left the address to him. Rather than distract him Nicomede nudged Serenity lightly with his crossguard, catching her eyes and flicking his own briefly towards the soil. He hoped it was enough for her to divine the nature of his preparations. That silent communication accomplished he turned his attention to the body nearest to his feet, fallen on its stomach. Carefully he rolled it over with a boot, checking for what might seem... Unusual.

@VitaVitaAR @HereComesTheSnow @ERode

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@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin@6slyboy6

---

With a small nod at Amy's renewed good spirits, Fionn had been about to ask Fleuri to join him searching some of the outer buildings of the fort before Fanilly ordered them onwards towards the main keep instead. With a shrug, he fell in with the rest of the group instead, holding his sword ahead of him to light the way. While night had yet to fall, the moon rising through the sky and the sunset's fiery hues signalled that it was coming very near, and the long shadows the fortress and its buildings cast were close enough to night to merit the extra light.

The scent was the first thing he noticed; while he didn't have Tyaethe's supernatural senses, even at this point the stench of blood was suffusing the air more and more. Indeed, around the entrance of the keep proper it had spilled out to the dirt itself, not to mention that which had found itself upon the walls. The corpses were just within, heaped upon each other like the bandits they'd put to pyre scarcely a month before. He looked to his left, toward one of the buildings along the outer wall, and could see a similar spill just outside it. He reached out to tap the knight next to him, pointing over at the building. "Let's fan out a bit. Fleuri, let's go che—"

"Nothing but corpses."

He could've sworn he felt an ear twitch at those words. "Hey, Fionn." He turned to Gerard, his sword arm dropping even as the other knight's rose, his and the captain's both. "Alette the Shark and her band— They don't operate this far south normally, far as I remember. Closer to your side of Velt, right?"

"Surrender. Now."

Fionn groaned, leaning against the clean wall near him and putting his head in his free hand. "Of all the places..." He cursed under his breath, before pushing off the wall and glancing over at the young woman who'd just stepped out to the group. Sure enough, the face hadn't changed much—livelier looking in the eyes, sure, and obviously sharpened a bit compared to when last he'd seen her—and the gear wasn't dissimilar from what he'd expect. Still, the subtle changes all over were proof enough of the years that had passed since last he'd spoken to the girl.

"Alette."

He strode through the dispersing group, pushing on past Fanilly to stand between her and the blue-haired girl. "You know better than to just walk on out like that. And what's with the hair? I've told you a thousand times to braid it if you're going to wear pigtails like that, and by the Goddesses, put on a bloody helmet." He glanced down again, critical eye going over her equipment to check more than just the fit.

"What happened to that knife I gave you when I left?"

She seems in better spirits. Unfortunately as the vanguard made their approach further in I find my ears prick to words I wouldn't have expected to hear here. It's such a shock that, against better judgement, I glance around, trying to find the soul who spoke.

Suddenly my eyes flick to a man in worn armour more befitting of that of a sellsword - the one with the lantern shield. The missing pieces of his armour arrangement almost instantaneously click together mentally and my brow behind my helmet furrows.

Merda, you had to hire that sfigato, Tyaethe?

It's at this moment that I'm finally acutely aware of how distracted the past few weeks or so has left me - because I should have taken notice of Ser Nicomede's haughty presence far earlier. It seems Signore Fortune has paid the crestfallen Knight little attention over the years, however, judging by the state of his equipment (except his blade, bizarrely). I'd heard whispers of some kerfuffle regarding the Durante line but it was nothing I cared to draw attention to at the time.

Of course, this train of thought is running parallel to our movement into the fort, and anything I am tempted to say or do is shot violently down by what we see inside.

I'd seen my share of horrors at war - this kind of brutality generally serves as a crucible for a young Knight's temperament, especially if they were tender noblemen unaccustomed to the sight and stink of it. And yet the ostentatiousness, the nigh-picturesque barbarism irks me. I've never observed this sheer quantity of bodies brutalised like this - literally splattered on the walls of the fort like half-hearted paint.

As the door swings open my weapon comes up - only to face a blue haired young girl wielding a spear of similar pigment to the quickly drying fluid pasted all over the encampment. You can understand my initial aggression, I imagine, but to my surprise Fionn and Gerard perk up almost immediately. They recognise her. What's more, Fionn seems to be acquainted with her.

"Do you two care to...ah...illuminate us on what this mezza sega is doing here?" I can't help but elicit a low gravel beneath my words - it could never just be something simple.

@VitaVitaAR @Krayzikk @The Otter @HereComesTheSnow

"Oho? Calling out my name before I've had the chance to introduce myself is a little rude, you know," commented the blue-haired mercenary playfully, in spite of their ghastly surroundings. Smirking, she curtsied, her spear still resting upon her shoulder.

"Alette. And yes, there's plenty of people who know me as the Shark."

That grin was perhaps a reason. It was sharp, those teeth almost looking less like ordinary human teeth and somethin more like the razors that filled the mouth of an oceanic predator.

That spear, too, was undoubtedly like the penetrating, slicing tooth of a shark.

Fanilly had only vaguely heard of a 'Shark' from the north, a vicious and untamed mercenary with a reputation for violent but incredibly affective combat. Only from half-remembered stories passed to her by a trader her father had conducted business with, however.

Those half-memories came into sharp relief when she was faced with the pigtailed girl.

"As for why I'm here, what do you think motivates any mercenary? You should know, shouldn't you? You weren't born into knighthood, I'm certain," the Shark idly commented towards Gerard, waving her free hand, "Money. Enough librans can send me all the way across the continent."

That razor smirk adorned her lips.

Fanilly didn't like any of this. Their surroundings, the sheer atmosphere of this place, were already weighing on her.

And now this mercenary was acting almost entirely uncooperative, despite her insistence that she wasn't behind the massacre.

Sir Fionn's words, however, took her entirely by surprise.

And it seemed they did the same for Alette.

"... Snrk."

At least until she started giggling, hand to her stomach.

"This... this was the last place I expected to see a familiar face! Ah, I don't remember your name very well, it was over ten years ago... what was it?" she paused for a moment, "MacKerach? That knife is truly well-balanced, I still have it."

She ran her free hand through one of her pigtails.

"Isn't it more impressive to see a mercenary who can fight like this without getting touched? Besides, you're not going to attack unless I do, are you?"

She cocked her head.

The first bodies to be investigated were a grisly sight, two men practically tangled together.

But it wasn't just that.

Their injuries were severe. Multiple stab wounds, a sword thrust through the gut. The other, a knife severing his throat.

The sword used to kill the former man was still gripped in the hand of the latter. The knife that cut the latter's neck was in the former's loose grip.

Further investigation would reveal similar situations for the other bodies. Some of the deaths were self-inflicted, others seemed to be a result of a sudden attack by another soldier, who was soon after killed by another.

The garrison had devoured itself.

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@ERode@PigeonOfAstora@Conscripts@Crimson Paladin@Creative Chaos@The Otter@Krayzikk@Psyker Landshark@6slyboy6

---

A picturesque scene of blossoming red and gold were better served with calm and serenity, and the area outside the fort was meant so. Going from house to house, door to door, Steffen treated every moment with caution. They might still be in the building, any incursions from the outside this successful would have been incredibly dangerous to deal with, especially as he was basically walking into their home turf. But there were none of them. In fact, the building interiors were neat as far as neatness goes, no sign of violence nor ransack. Skimping the tip of his finger on a table, there was a little bit of dust; the building was not even touched.

Leaving the building as in tact as when he arrived, Steffen looked around to see if Sir Renar had finished his own search. It was a shame he couldn't enjoy this serene evening.

"Nothing." Steffen gave Renar a headshake as soon as he saw him. "There's still a few over there, but I doubt we're gonna find anything more."

There had been nothing that indicated anyone being here that wasn't one of the fort garrisons. The fort's remote location, of relatively unimportant significance, also wouldn't seem like an attractive place to attack. Not a lot of questions were answered, all this seemed to prove is that this incident was more complicated than expected.

Heading back to outside the fort, beneath the walls, Steffen looked to see if Lein was still on the wall keeping watch, giving waves for the Hundi's attention.

"Anything noteworthy, Lein?"

@PigeonOfAstora@Psyker Landshark

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Good.

She’s settled now.

She could reflect and understand two things.

One. The common man still possessed no defense against the sorceries of malcontents.

Two. One can take heart, at least, that this was only a grisly death, one that would not be out of place in the frontlines of a proper war.

…

Serenity doubted that the latter would be of any comfort to the fallen.

And as for the one who had appeared amidst the carnage, untouched and yet suspicious nonetheless? She didn’t care for Alette’s personality, nor for whatever connection she had with the other former mercenaries in their midsts. House Arcedeen had considered reaching out to her once or twice, when words of her deeds were sufficient to travel southwards, but ultimately, she was one of many mercenaries too unstable to be considered. There was effective violence, and there was superfluous violence.

Alette the Shark trended towards the latter.

As for what killed the men inside the keep?

Charm, perhaps, to bade all the residents of the Fort to a single point of slaughter.

Sow Discord, a wild spell that causes equally wild reactions from its targets. It’s likened to inflicting temporary madness.

Her eyes settled upon Dame Amy.

“Knight-Captain. Have the Shark gather her band. It doesn’t have to be here, but it’d be better to understand who is with her, rather than be caught off guard by who is not.”

Five steps. Right hand to grab the half-demon by the wrist, then to bring her out of the fort once more, away from the grisly sight. Serenity had some understanding of the cleric’s powers. To have her break from exposure, when her insights would be the most helpful in unravelling the specifics of the blight brought upon Fort Daelantine, would be irritating.

It didn’t take long to leave the fort, be back out with nothing but sky and shadow, moon and stars. Serenity didn’t have any words of comfort for Amy though. She didn’t see the need in it.

“Sir Renar,” she spoke, turning to the one who had stayed behind. “They killed themselves in the fort. The sort of infighting that even feuding families from yore wouldn't have devolved into.” She blinked. "Where's Sir Steffen?"

The vampire kicked her feet against the stonework, letting out a giggle at the segue into discussing their hair of all things. Not that she had any room to talk, if anyone was ever going to be condemned for fighting with truly impractical hair... although, if she was going to play it safe, it would all be buried beneath armour anyway, so maybe she did have room to speak. Although the hair thing was entirely coincidental as a result of how it worked...

So, this girl was a mercenary of some description? Someone had paid for her to come out here, and she had arrived before them... which meant someone had an idea what was going on before the last guard managed to drag his body over to Aimlenn.

The obvious guess would have been that the mercenaries were responsible for the destruction of the fort garrison but that seemed completely random. Who stood to gain anything by getting one of the fort garrisons violently cleared out? It wouldn't be hard to replace them, just clean up the bodies and wash away the blood; the crown could have it garrisoned again by the end of the week. It wouldn't be any good for smuggling, since that wasn't even the point of the various forts surrounding the city. Nor could it be because a noble wanted to disguise troop movements long enough to siege the city proper--that was the sort of thing that had been done before, but if it was the case, it would already be blatantly apparent, since the window of opportunity was so small.

That would mean whoever hired the mercenary knew why the garrison had been wiped out, before it had ever happened. They knew that something was going to happen to the garrison and... didn't warn them? That didn't make much sense, if you were going to do something to stop all of the slaughter, it should have been easy to send a message ahead so the garrison was at least prepared and didn't leave the gates handily open to welcome their own killer. If the goal was to prevent the garrison from being destroyed by persons unknown, then the mercenaries would have already left as their job was over.

That also still meant that someone would have wanted to kill everyone in this unremarkable fort, and the way the bodies were arranged had none of the hallmarks of the sort of dark magic that would take advantage of a thing like that. You could even rule out something like one of the most monstrous vampires going on a hunger-induced rampage--they or other monsters would have left a lot less blood and discernible corpses strewn around.

But the mercenaries were still hanging around when they got there--and, unless it was a band of one, the rest must be inside the fort. If they were looking around inside, they had to expect to find something, didn't they? So either their employer was simply taking advantage of an expected apparently-pointless massacre to engage in some petty robbery that couldn't possibly cover the cost of employing a mercenary band in the first place or the destruction of the fort's garrison was just some other sign of what they were really here for. Since their employer hadn't seen fit to send a warning or tell anybody else and the band was still looking around, either they really didn't want anybody else to know what was going on and beat them in an unknown race, or... this was an accident? Maybe both, if the mysterious employer had thought the warning an unnecessary compromise of secrecy over a maybe.

"Sharky, what are you looking for?"

Lein

---

Location: Abandoned Fort
Interactions: @VitaVitaAR @Conscripts @Krayzikk

---

No one up here. The guard posts were clean as ever, with no tracks or disturbances. It did clarify some things. No tracks nor signs of intrusions either meaning that it couldn't have been some exceedingly well-coordinated attack. Most importantly however, there weren't any bodies of guards either. Normally forts like these would have at least a couple lookouts permanently stationed at all times. Even if there was an intrusion from the inside, that wouldn't completely rule out why the walls were completely deserted like this, or why there was only one crazed survivor from whatever went down here.

He jumped down three stairs at a time as he met back up with Steffen and Renar. "A nice view, a check-off list, someone's secret snuff box. No guards though, so either they were recalled for something or got lured into the keep proper. Which means," Lein pulled out a dashed list of guards and ran his finger down the list. It terminated prematurely into a blank list.

"Here. Two days ago. Just about sunset or after; this fellow checked out but there's no one who tapped in for him. 'Less they decided to kick it for the night, whatever happened to the keep must've happened then. But there's fresh blood - either it means there's survivors, or whatever's caused this thing is still in there." Whatever speculation Lein could draw from the fringes, they'd only know for sure if they went in. "I'll dip in and see how's the rest of our folks fare." Lein said, heading toward the strengthening stench of fresh blood.

...

So they go.

The three word salute Lein had practiced, honed, swollen in bitter bouts. It was the cultivated carriage of his conscience that had serviced him throughout his travels, a mantra to silence all doubt. Drowned bloated things that sloughed humanity from its bones, desiccated lips that grinned at him in a mockery of the smile just days prior, eyes of glass staring blankly toward the sky. Toes, still twitching as it spun slowly in the air, stained lightly with blood that dripped from bloodied, bruised fingers.

The very first lesson the Hundi ever learned was that the first thing he needed to do before a body was not bury it, but to bury the memory of it. It was never meant to make it easier to stomach what he was seeing. Just made it easier to do what he needed to do. None of what he did allowed him any sympathy for the shapes that were before him, and neither did it allow any of his comrades the same empathy either. Commiseration held no place before praxis.

Lein knelt down and examined the entwined carcasses as he rejoined the main party with Steffen, gingerly pulling apart their swollen wounds with his prosthetic fingers. Sunk their blades into each other in a frenzy even as they had already suffered mortal injuries. Black veins finally started to crawl up through their paling flesh, the desecration of time catching up to the shock that had descended upon this accursed place. These ones were older; the fighting might have started in a single onset, but the end of it lingered for a while yet.

"Killed each other." Lein announced the obvious, though it was harder to get out than he expected. Had they died fighting with their own minds, this would have been far easier. "Doesn't look organized either; one of these guys tried to use a poker." Lein glanced to the woman standing before them. Too clean and too calm. She was likely neither the culprit nor the victim. That didn't mean friend, either, but Fionn seemed like he had that particular aspect...handled.

The real danger was clear. If the knights didn't have any capability to defend against even a rogue witch bewitching them into a nightmare, they didn't have anything against this kind of spell either. "Nico - don't have anything for mental attacks, do you? Any way to scout for magic? And Amy..." Lein clicked his tongue. Ah. So that's why Serenity dragged Amy outside. Probably not out of compassion that the Lioness so scarcely dispensed, but to ascertain the cleric's abilities.

---

@VitaVitaAR

---

"Fionn. MacKerracher." He honestly doubted she'd really forgotten his name like that, but he had to correct her all the same; not just in case she forgot, but in case any of the rest of her band were close enough to listen in and weren't any of the ones he knew. Letting the wrong name get bandied about was bad for business, whether as a mercenary or as a knight. "Who'd you bring with you? Anybody I know? Call them out here with us."

Serenity could suggest it to Fanilly all she wanted, at least in this moment Fionn was happy to take charge, if only because they were dealing with somebody he knew.

"What was the job, anyways?" Just as blunt as his earlier question, his patience notably shortened by Alette's lack of answers to the others' questions. "If there is the slightest possibility it could have anything to do with what happened here, we have to know. Don't play coy with us."

As the outlying buildings held absolutely nothing, Renar simply sighed to himself in annoyance and bid farewell to Sir Steffen for the moment as the latter moved to join up with Lein. For his part, Renar hefted his poleaxe onto his shoulder and started trudging towards the interior of the main keep, intent on catching up with the others. If there was nothing to be found outside, it would be within.

When he'd nearly reached the gate, Dame Serenity came out with the new knight in tow. Literally, in fact. Renar raised an eyebrow beneath his full helm at the sight before realizing exactly why. It was likely the best move to make in this scenario, and he did acknowledge exactly why they had to coddle the mage that could perform mind magics, but the fact they needed to cozen anyone in the most elite order in Thaln was irritating. Serenity's actual report wasn't nearly as distressing.

"Is that so?" He drawled, sounding entirely unbothered by the depiction of the massacre within. "How curious. Would that some families in these times worked themselves up into such a frenzy. As for Sir Steffen, he'll be bringing up the rear shortly. He'd doubled back to retrieve Sir Lein from inspecting the outer walls. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go on ahead." With Serenity informed, Renar brushed past her and Amy, proceeding within...

...Only to find the knights within having a standoff with some spearwoman. With no context just yet, Renar decided to multitask, keeping an ear on the conversation while investigating the bodies for himself. He knelt down to inspect just a few corpses and realized that if anything, Serenity had been underselling the carnage. Still, even this didn't elicit any emotion from him aside from clinical detachment. Not because he'd seen worse during his career. Not because he was used to carnage. He simply didn't quite care for the fate of these faceless corpses outside of the potential ramifications of an entire defense fort massacred. With that done, he stood back up and faced the lone spearwoman, having gotten a small gist of what was going on. Whoever she was, Fionn was familiar with her. Mercenary, most likely. And obviously enough, she was at least tangentially involved with what had happened here. Still, if no one else was going to try to negotiate properly...

"Let's talk terms, then. We have a job to do, and cooperation gets it done faster. You obviously want something from us, so why don't we respect each other's time and get to the point?"

@ERode @6slyboy6 @The Otter @VitaVitaAR

Even Fionn seems to be wound tight now - Ser Renar also typically demands she employs more brevity, though he appears unperturbed by the carnage. I’m inclined to agree - the girl’s coy demeanour eats at my patience like mild acid. If she isn’t a threat, she’s sat on the border line of being an impedance. And, of course, there is the small matter of having an indiscriminate amount of unseen allies tucked inside. The circumstances paint the likeness of a violent ambush - she can’t truly be blind to that?

“I concur with Ser Fionn - call your comrades out, eh? Nothing to hide, nothing to fear.”

My ring finger taps against the handle of my pick. I begin to wish I’d rolled some tobacco prior.

@VitaVitaAR @Psyker Landshark @The Otter @HereComesTheSnow

Pretty grim thing.

An attack from outside, this would just have been gruesome. A traitor within would have been despicable. This was something beyond both. These men weren't in their right minds when they died. It wasn't just what they'd done to each other, macabre as it was; the two bodies here were intertwined such that it would have taken a healer a long time to piece back together which parts had belonged to who. And they were among the cleaner deaths. They had at least been killed, and quickly. The next body... No one could have driven a dagger into their own brain that way, not under their own power. But that was what the poor soul had done.

Magic for certain, then. There were mundane ways that the garrison might have been driven to madness, something in the water supply. But nothing that could have driven a man to do that. That raised several issues. Some of these bodies were days old, but others only hours. Whatever spell had done this had lasted days, and could still be active.

"Not easily," He answered Lein, ignoring the lack of diplomacy (or people skills) being exhibited a few feet away. "Without a better idea of what was done it would have to be a blanket solution. I could protect everyone in a certain area, but not if they moved outside the circle."

"That's probably better suited for aiding someone who is already afflicted, though. The best preventative measure I can think of without knowing more is to keep an eye on each other. Watch for unusual aggression."

@PigeonOfAstora

@ERode

---

~Fort Daelantine~

Whatever resolve she mad managed to gather in spite of the horrible feeling she had about this entire place, it did not last long. As their group entered the fort and began to venture deeper, there was a mysterious crimson shade that covered the walls, and one that made the ground beneath their feet tainted. It took a moment for the already dazed Amy on the lookout for enemies to truly process what was going on, but when the rich iron smell hit her nostrils she froze up, and she finally looked down at the soggy mud that covered her boots, her eyes shooting wide in shock.



Rapid and uneven breathing. Dilated pupils. Tense muscles. Shock.

As the corpses mounted in her field of view, Amy's legs began to tremble, her fingers shaking as she had a hard time maintaining grip on her flute despite her knuckles going white from the effort. They... killed each other. Every last one of them. Brother against brother, comrade against comrade, some lay dead still wrestling each other as they did moments before their death. And most of them didn't die a quick death either... gruesome examples of those who carried on living long enough to spite the people they once fought besides littered the inner courtyard. That ominous, gut wrenching feeling that she felt outside and managed to push aside as she joined her group was back, several times worse now that she saw the carnage.

Whatever the spreading madness was that caused such massacre had left a deep, terrible imprint on this place that seeped like a deadly ooze or miasma into every crevice and corner, every crack in the weather-worn stone walls of the castle. It was a malignant force, festering in the shadows and growing into an incomprehensible abyss of terror. Amy was staring down into that abyss with every moment she was looking out for threats, and the abyss stared back at her with such a pestilent gaze that it left her gasping. This place, this... force, was one of indescribable evil and hostility. And Amy felt like it had singled her out, the one person most observant to it's effects. If this assault on her senses was anything like what overcame the garrison of the fort, she could hardly blame them from turning each other and succumbing to madness.

The world was spinning and she couldn't keep up, the only thing still keeping her on two feet being the terror she felt when the thought of falling over in the blood soaked mud crossed her mind. Still, she couldn't help herself, the muddled noises of her comrades and some third party talking barely registering in her mind. Amy was in a world of her own, her sight reduced to a small island of color amidst and ocean of black as she stared at the corpses who wielded their weapons as if they needed to slay their comrades once more. She could feel her body on the edge of giving up, the sickness of this place slowly overcoming and muffling that desperate last call to action that her mind was able to muster, and the darkness taking hold of her periphery taking hold of all that she could sense. All was consumed by shadows...

What happened afterwards was a blurry mess of pictures and emotions. All she knew is that someone had grabbed her arm and tugged her, and that when she came to her senses she was outside the fort with Serenity.

She wanted to usher a quiet "thank you", but instead she finally fell to the ground and threw up with a panicked groan, a fit of cough coming over her afterwards as the irrational terror began to clear from her mind, like a rolling fog slowly disappearing as the sun comes up. She had never felt anything nearly as potent as this, and even the graveyards filled with sorrow did not have such a lasting imprint that could affect her days after the people had passed. Then again... she had never been on a battlefield, and she imagined that this was the real deal, the way those places would feel as well. Coughing up a little more slime, Amy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pushing herself up to her feet. She picked up her ivory flute that she had dropped when she fell, and wiped off some of the mud from it before she shakily turned to Serenity. She wasn't sure what to say to the girl after her performance of... well, falling apart. For her first assignment, she didn't expect to find piles of corpses of people who murdered each other. She had a new understanding of the feeling that was trying to ceaselessly tear into her, even now, outside the castle walls. Maybe the others weren't susceptible to it, but when she was trying to keep her senses open for danger, it was able to strike her at her weakest. There was no excuse for her weakness in the face of such massacre, but she felt like she understood it a little more now.

Nobody wants to grow accustomed to such a feeling, but Amy was forced to rapidly adapt if she wished to be of any use. Looking down at her flute for a moment, her mind wandered to old teachings she received when she was still just a kid, and her powers were starting to manifest. This sort of... magic, was exactly the thing that the clerics had warned her of. The sort of forbidden and malignant powers that those taking care of her feared she'd develop. The ability to warp the minds of others to make them commit violent acts. The same magic she swore never to practice in her life.

Her grip tightened around the smooth surface of her flute, fingers going numb from the hold, and the gaze she had averted from others until now finally fell upon Serenity.

Maybe Mayon had sent her here, on this mission, for a reason. Surely the goddess would teach her clerics the most valuable life lessons through experience. Such coincidences did not happen without a higher purpose, and she was supposed to carry out the will of her goddess when this type of magic was concerned.

"Serenity..." She whispered quietly before she turned to take a look at the knight who had dragged her out. Under the shining light of Mayon, her face was now filled with a new shard of crimson, one of anger and determination. "I... we, cannot let the same fate befall our fellow knights. I know you can't feel it, but a shadow falls over this fort, smothering the senses with the last thoughts and emotions of the dead. If whoever, or whatever caused this massacre is still around, then this could be a trap, set up just for us Roses. I can't know for sure, and the fact that we haven't been attacked offers little comfort, but..." Her eyes shifted to the side, past the large doors and towards the rest of the group as they confronted the unknown girl. "She's got compatriots, I can feel them. Maybe they didn't kill anyone here, but they could've caused this massacre for all we know. Call me crazy, but..." She fell silent for a moment as she turned around and she let her senses, both physical and magical, search for anything that was out place, any sign of a trap or a spell ready to be unleashed at them. The sort of hostile intent that this whole fort seemed to be festering with. "Either this is an ambush waiting to happen with the same spell that took care of the garrison, or someone is really bad at cleaning up after themselves."

She had all but forgotten about her previous weakness from before. Surely the adrenaline pumping through her veins helped tremendously, and her hands were still shaking, but Amy was convinced that whatever was waiting for her comrades in the fort wasn't something they could fight only with their swords. More than anything she wanted to help them, and that same conviction that had been drilled into her since childhood now began to surface in the face of adversity. She had experience the evil nature of the fort, and she had felt it's overpowering effects on the mind. As much as she hated to admit that she wasn't cautious enough when trying to understand it, and that the sea of blood had bested her timid nature, she felt like she now understood what needed to be done if such a force tried to take control of her.

Her head twitched, like an animal reacting to a sound that no human could perceive. For a moment her crimson eyes scoured the horizon, and then with a few bold steps she closed the distance to Serenity, and grabbed onto the girl's wrist, pulling her hand closer. "Please, let me show you what I see. I need you to understand my concern." Within the second, Serenity could feel the cold creeping up her arm, the uncaring and evil energies of the place that was felt by Amy penetrating into her own mind. It was but a fraction of the whole, limited by Amy's abilities to convey such information to people she had so little connection with, but it was more than enough to give the girl a taste of what the young cleric feared the most.

"Promise me to stay close, alright? If you feel anything weird like this coming onto you, clouding your judgement and testing your resolve, grab my hand. I know how it looked just now, but... I can protect you from magic that would try and alter your senses. If worst comes to worst, I should be able to put you to sleep before you turn on anyone, but I trust that won't be necessary." She stared directly into Serenity's eyes for a good few seconds, her fingers firmly gripping the knight's wrist in a way that more pleaded for the knight's cooperation than commanded her obedience.

Finally she relented and let go, dusting herself off for the second time tonight in front of the castle gates, and then beckoned for Serenity to follow as she followed in the footsteps of Lein and Steffen who had finally returned. If anything was going to go down, she felt she'd be much more useful inside with the rest of the Roses, rather than staying outside and being unable to help them out.