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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Conscripts
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Conscripts An Atom Trying to Understand Itself

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Steffen Gravinir


"As if you Boars have any credence." The tip of the spear was right at his throat, and he made it so easy too. But Steffen saw through this ruse. A pathetic last gasp of a petty lesser child, one that deserved an even pettier response. The tip bearing the two diamond-shaped emblems trailed the reddened skin of the Boar, but not one spill of blood leaked from its scrotum. Not from there. The young former-mercenary, fully-fledged knight stepped on the execution pad, Steffen gladly gave the Boar a taste of his own hammer. The gauntlet thumped the bastard's lousy mouth, hopefully sending some teeth down his throat before the final judgment.

"He's one of us." His last statement whispered in his ears as he stood up, stepped aside and let Gerard have the honors, if there is any honor in taking out the trash. His spear was at rest, but any insidious second thoughts would be swiftly dealt with.

Once the dirty work was carried out, Steffen gave the young knight a firm nod but lifted the spear off the ground.

"Good response." He said, a little bit envious of the lad who was so resolute in shedding off his troublesome past. "Let's catch our breathe for now." His defensive stance were there to ward off any Boars who might attack. A few deep breathe observed the battlefield. The defensive line around Veilena was still holding against these abominations, Fionn and Tyaethe doing their own thing, the knife wielder was fencing with two instead of just Serenity, and Lein off on his own with the hounds. He wasn't sure how his friend was there to begin with, but having an archer at that position fending for himself was a waste of manpower, if not dangerous too.

"Can you help Sir Fionn? I will be bringing back Sir Lein and join you."

With that, Steffen set out towards where Lein was, hounds and Boars in the way be impaled.

@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@PigeonOfAstora
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by DELETED08740
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Lein



Location: Cae Mayl
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The arrows snapped against the dead mass of the behemoth as it charged against the archer on the stone pillar, thick oozing pus spewing out of its ripped orifices. The few that were too slow and too unfortunate to be in the abomination's path gave a startled bleat cut short by the trampling of their lungs. These things barely reacted to being pelted by arrows - but with the experiences of facing off a muscular tendril monster and an undead champion in the last couple days, the development hardly phased him. If he could not yield a weapon strong enough to knock his prey down, he'll just use something that could; with massive frame swallowing up the distance between them, Lein jumped down in front of the pillar he was standing on. A simple tactic - Lein was officiating an impromptu marriage of a skull and a wall.

Lein could almost smell the bitter curse-rot that threatened to plaster him against the white pillar. He bounded away from the pillar at the last possible moment, letting nary a split second flicker by before he swiveled around and measured up another arrow against its forehead. Could never tell with these necromancers' pets if any kind of damage was enough. Impact with the pillar or no, he'll ensure his mark was slain with an arrow through its head.

As for the rest of the battlefield, the Knights either had their opponents tied up or beat. A couple stray hounds snapped at the periphery, before meeting their own swift ends from Lein's lingering vengeance. So much for the Boars. His initial measure of these mercenaries had more weight now that their forces were being thoroughly ripped apart. All the reputation and debauchery could not buy them an army worth more than a couple kicks. Turns out being evil rarely ever qualified as being competent. Or even creative for that matter - why was it that these assholes so insisted on necromancy? Least the ball assassins had courtesy enough to go to a crypt for that.

Still! Lein had vented enough of his frustration to crack a smile and a wave as a familiar pair of horns waded their way towards him. "Lovely guests we have, no? They even brought me a present!" Lein held up a ragged portion of his gloves, still wet from blood and pock-marked with teeth. Bitter about being left out cold he was not. The experience of pummeling curse-hounds was rather cathartic in hindsight.
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by VitaVitaAR
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Fanilly felt resistance to her blade, but with both hands gripping it she pushed.

The abomination's skull gave way. Bone split.

The sword was buried in the creature's brain.

She watched its immense body go slack, and drew her weapon out just as quickly as the abomination collapsed entirely, black ichor clinging to the blade. Rather then blood, it almost smelt like something burning.

Grimacing, the knight-captain flicked her sword in a bid to shed it.

"... Whoever you may have been, your pain ends now," she said, pausing only a moment longer to address the abomination. Even had it been one of the Golden Boars' worst, there was no way they could have deserved such an awful fate to become such a hideous, bloated, twisted monster.

Whoever had done this had to be stopped.

Two of the other abominations had fallen. Many of the Boars, due to the actions of Tyaethe and the headless-yet-still fighting Haelstadt.

But their work wasn't done.

One of the nearest remaining Boars still intending on trying to reach Veilena was also the closest target. Fanilly broke into a sprint, reaching him swiftly and cutting off his advance, deflecting his surprised sword stroke with her own before plunging the blade through his chest.

One of the remaining two abominations was caught up with Sir Lein, but the other was still advancing from further away. They had to take them out as fast as possible---!




"I... er..."

It wasn't as if she wasn't here for such a purpose. Those who had surrendered were to be kept stable, at the very least, until they could face trail. But it was a surreal sight to be brought to the side of a man who had such a tremendous gash in his side, surrounded by what appeared to be his brother sitting by his side as well as a dozen or so Golden Boars who had laid down their weapons and sat down, seeming content to try and block out the remaining sounds of battle around them.

She'd heard the Golden Boars punished those they saw as traitors harshly, but in a situation like this perhaps it was simply too difficult to focus on such a task.

"Just... what h-happened here, Dame Tyaethe?" the slim brunette in Mayonite colors asked, as she knelt beside the injured man and brought out her catalyst, a small silver-and-blue rose-decorated scepter. While the injury was very deep and undoubtedly lethal if it were to be left alone, the fact it was a straightforward and relatively clean cut made it all the easier for her to mend.




The Boar's advance had largely halted. Even those who were not fleeing or surrendering seemed reluctant to come any closer. A combination of the Iron Rose Knights' cutting them down and the Curse Mage breaking them using her fetch was enough to make even the threat of punishment for failure seem minor in comparison.

Clarice's smug smirk only grew wider at the terror she'd inflicted, but it soon turned to a frustrated glare at the approach of the remaining curse abomination.

Its name was lost. She couldn't use her fetch. And now all the remaining ordinary Boars were out of range.

Her grip tightened on the doll.

She'd really been enjoying herself, but now-

The air beside her was vibrating.

The magical energy seemed to thrum.

Come to think of it, that Cazt heir hadn't said much for a while, since the curse abominations had appeared.

Now Clarice understood why.

"Out of the way, curse cow."

A finely-crafted spell catalyst, blackened wood tipped with a set of golden rings surrounding a bright blue, spherical gem, was gripped in the Veilena Cazt's hand.

It shone brilliantly.

"Hmph. This is why I don't like having so many allies, it takes far too long to determine the right trajectory to avoid them," she commented.

A blue-white light illuminated in the sky above the last curse abomination as it advanced. With a distorted grunt, it seemed to realize something was going on, its ruptured eyesockets turning skywards.

It took a moment for an observer to realize that the light was an intricate magic circle.

And it was only glowing brighter.

"Disappear. Meteor Fall."

The light at the center of the magic circle grew. The vibrating air almost seemed to rumble.

A column of blue-white magical energy exploded from the center of the magic circle, with a sound like every single particle in the air around it was shaking violently. the light illuminated the battlefield, several of the closest Golden Boars stumbling and falling from the sheer brilliance.

The curse abomination was enveloped.

If one were to look, they could see its outline for a brief moment, ever-so faintly, before it seemed to break apart.

The light dwindled just as quickly as it had been unleashed. Soon, it faded to a single thin line, before vanishing completely.

There was nothing left behind. The spot upon which the curse abomination once stood was glowing, the earth beneath the monster having turned to glass.




"Aghk?!"

The knife-wielding mercenary mercenary had judged Sir Sergio to be in quite a poor state, one that he wouldn't be so ready to counterattack from. In some ways perhaps he was right, but he had left his own opening when he was shocked by the explosively gory death of one of his allies.

So he was hardly prepared for the sharp blow to his chin, which sent him reeling. For all his tricks, he had made a critical error in his approach.

He had only a spare few moments to realize what was about to happen before his life ended, the sharp spike of Sir Sergio's weapon burying in the side of his skull.




One curse abomination still remained.

It bellowed in an unearthly fashion as it lunged towards him, colliding firmly with the pillar that he had leaped upon. But with their positioning, there was no chance for it to avoid his reprisal.

The arrow buried itself in one of its empty eye sockets.

No matter how distorted, the abominations were still quite alive, and thus, the damage was done. Its enormous body slackened after a moment, as it began to slide down against the pillar...

And yet---

One enormous had raised, lunging towards the hundi archer. The curses and malice that had created each of the abominations were not yet ready to die, and now they had all concentrated in a single body.

Perhaps it was the resentment of the people who had become these creatures.

Perhaps it was the curses that had embedded themselves deep within their flesh.

Perhaps it was their creator, manipulating them from a distance.

Whatever the case, one last attack reached out, threatening to crush Sir Lein---!




"... A splendid offer, if only to spite the one responsible for this debacle," the Boar Commander replied. But even as he spoke, he readied his stance, raising his shield as his mace was brought to bare, "But I won't accept. If you wish to learn more about the one responsible for this, then it will be with my last breath."

Perhaps, in spite of whatever twisted path the man had followed, he still had some shred of honor from his distant past. Perhaps he placed as much value in single combat as Sir Fionn himself.

With his shield at the ready, he stepped forward to advance, and-

"Well now, we can't have that, can we?"

A soft, male voice seemed to come from the air itself.

"What? You-"

A dark, red-black glow suddenly emanated from the Commander's back. His eyes widened, and he let out a strangled gasp, stumbling forward and clutching at his throat.

"D-Damn you, when did you-gghhk...!"

He retched, and blood poured from beneath his helmet as he stagged, his mace hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

"You've already failed, so it's not as if this can make you fail even harder. I'd rather not have them know my name just yet."

Hitting his knees, the Commander retched again, more crimson splattering to the ground as he struggled to try and speak.

"B-ba... bastaaard...!"

@Rune_Alchemist@HereComesTheSnow@Raineh Daze@ERode@PigeonOfAstora@Conscripts@Crimson Paladin@Creative Chaos@The Otter@Krayzikk@Psyker Landshark@6slyboy6
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by HereComesTheSnow
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Gerard Segremors

@Conscripts@Krayzikk@ERode@VahkiDane

"...Nah." Gerard breathed after a moment's consideration, the weight of the maul, and all its' bloody history, a feather in his hands. Bringing it down unto its brutish wielder had made for smaller satisfaction than he'd bargained, honestly— but he'd little time to ponder the meaning of that void. It would forestall their victory, if his mind was stuck on it— better to simply say "this must be moving on" and recenter his focus on the objective. "Nah, he's fine. Called for a duel and got it. I've got enough trouble with the courtesies I haven't learned,"

A smirk played across his face, toothy and houndish within the haggard breath he was leashing with time and measure. He rose to his full height once more, hoisting the hammer onto his shoulder with a wrench of the left arm, right hand closing its grip again around his trusted blade.

"Best I mind the ones I've known for a while already."

Thunder cracked from afar, as a pillar of cerulean washed over the moonlit clearing. It cast the pair of knights in hues of the arcane, blue-white caught within purple and gold. Their spellcaster on loan, apparently, had gotten sick of beating around the bush— and now had reason to just throw around raw power. He'd stay away for a while.

As Steffen hoisted his spear to ready and made to set off, Gerard did much the similar, at decidedly different course. "We've driven the wedge pretty far out— don't wanna splinter it any more than we've got to. You go get him, I'll get ahold of Serenity and Nico."

As they drew past eachother, objectives decided, a small, muttered thanks crept beneath the din.

"I won't make a liar of you."

And then the Ingvarr Knight was off, another mighty charge smashing through the breaking ranks of Boars as he surged forth to Lein's perch.

Gerard's was a shorter sprint, arriving in time with Sergio's war pick caving in the temple of the knife-wielder that had shown up in tandem with his old adversary— evidently by far the trickier of the two, though that was no tall bar to clear. The younger Knight's brow knotted as he took stock of his fellows' posture— Sergio's not quite steady, hitching as it moved. Serenity, though rushing to rejoin, swaying, albeit slightly, where there was normally picturesque poise.

He was a greenhorn sword of the nation, but battlefield veteran enough. He could recognize a broken arm, a ruptured inner ear.

Nico, further up the field but in the middle distance between, still hale. He was no healer, but he was a water mage— for what little Gerard knew of magic as a whole, he knew water to be protective and soothing, much like the Goddess claiming it as domain. He glanced to the blonde swordsman for a moment, flicking his gaze back to Serenity before turning his attention to Sergio.

"Good kill. I've got you covered."

Sword and hammer in hand, he moved to impose himself onto the Knight of the Harvest Moon's flank. The Boars weren't finished, they were cornered— this would be when they pounced on any opening they could find.
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Raineh Daze
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Tyaethe


Picking her sword up, Tyaethe's form seemed to waver, the armour looking more and more like smoke by the second. "Here? We fought a bit, I asked them to surrender."

It was... true, but it couldn't exactly be called an informative statement. As soon as she was done making it, the cloud dissipated entirely, leaving the paladin stood there, looking off into the distance. Specifically, where the moon was rising, even if the treeline around them made it a little bit on the impossible to see side.

"It would be nice if the rest of them gave up, there's not really a point to this," the girl added, glancing down at her stomach briefly. No holes in her clothing? That was good, sometimes the trick to stop it getting damaged didn't work, "One curse monster isn't very dangerous."
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by VahkiDane
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Sergio della Gherardesca


Purple and red flash in my vision but I yet breathe. I almost brace myself for another clash but instead a fellow Knight - two in fact, come to my flanks. Serenity and Gerard, not an uncommon pair, and a pleasant sight in the midst of the mist of sweat and blood. I wish I could remove my helmet but the task would require discarding the weapon in my good arm. The tunnel vision will have to be bearable for the time being.

"Those bulging abominations, I was not...prepared for." I press my tongue to the slowly leaking tiny rupture in my mouth, peering up to Gerard. "How did you fare? Heh."

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Psyker Landshark
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Renar Hagen


Renar didn't have the chance to put his tactic of divide and conquer into motion, as the Cazt girl proceeded to utterly annihilate one of the remaining curse abominations with a display of magical might. He let loose a low whistle, impressed at the demonstration of her ability. Would that they had someone of her arcane strength on the Roses' active duty roster. Still, there was one last task at hand in the immediate area. Hefting up his poleaxe, Renar started crossing the field towards the last remaining cursed beast, cutting down a couple of errant Boars on the way over.

He reached the final abomination just in time to be able to witness Lein's shot and its aftermath, the creature lurching forward in one last attempt to deliver a killing blow. Renar scowled beneath his helmet before surging forward to take action, breaking out into a dead sprint to close the distance.

Even at a full charge, Renar already could calculate that he wouldn't make it in time to interfere. Not without more drastic action, at least. With that in mind, he drew his arm back and hurled his poleaxe spear tip first at the curse abomination's raised limb, aiming to distract and disrupt it enough for Lein to have a window of opportunity.

"Finish the job, or I will!" Renar bellowed over towards Lein as he threw, not interrupting his sprint as he drew his arming sword to close the rest of the distance between himself and the writhing mass of flesh.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by HereComesTheSnow
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Gerard Segremors

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"They looked pretty nasty. Had to deal with something similar in the crypt, but..." Imperceptible beneath the leather and steel save for the ensalleted head, he let the thought trail away with a shrug, scanning through the field for a moment before meeting the shadows of the Knight of the Harvest Moon's visor with his own gaze. They'd largely torn through this flank, enough to scatter the rank-and-file. A couple pairs of them had glommed back together into skirmishing form after the mayhem began to settle, but were swiftly being pulled back apart before they could pick off any lone Knights.

For the moment, at least, this side had won itself reprieve. Enough to reset before the wedge pushed back behind the treeline, to hunt down whatever masters the desecrated abominations thrown their way heeded. "Big bastards like him are used to throwing their weight around amidst starving sellswords, untrained peasantry, and run-of-the-mill conscripts." The hammer shifted on his shoulder, as if testing the heft for a swing yet to come, shifting the grip for control. His tone was tight and unkind, but blunt and frank in the way debriefs so often went. "He'd have killed the me from when we first met, probably— But that game crumples when it gets hit by somebody with enough weight to throw back. Steffen and I pretty much ran him over."

More importantly.

"We need to get a healer to you if we can. How bad?"
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Conscripts
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Steffen Gravinir


The puny Boars simply melted. Steffen was surprised at their zealotry that allowed them to even muster a desire to resist. But this was, weirdly enough, the only time he felt anything resembling catharsis in the bloodshed of other living creatures, so that disturbing observation was simply just nuisance. There would be more time later to point to the danger of fanaticism.

The final abomination had suffered a crippling blow from its own arrogance, Lein's arrows acting more like indemnity to a pretty much perfect outplay. But both acts failed to accomplish the goal of bringing down the hulk of flesh. And now Lein is in danger of succumbing to the same creature's arrogance that he successfully took advantage of. The lurching creature reached its limbs out for a killing blow, as Steffen found out there was much less time than he imagined.

"It's still alive! Get outta there!" Steffen cried out as the charge broke into a tidal wave, once again turning himself into a living ballista bolt in motion. But this time he really needed to. As he held the shield in a brace position, his increasingly narrowed world could not see a different course of action than to ram the abomination with thundering blunt force of his shield. A spear thrust wouldn't do meaningful enough, he thought, nor would a kick or a spear throw. In fact, in fear of throwing his spear into Lein instead, he decided to toss it into the grass and kept on charging.

The Ingvarr only changed course very slightly, around Lein, bracing his other hand behind his shield, as he crashed into the abomination's torso at a slight angle, in the hopes that the impact at the very least shocked the abomination enough to abandon or throw off the blow. As for the result of the head-on collision, Steffen never counted on that. The kill-intent comes in a follow-up, drawing the sword tucked behind the shield all this time to stab at its undersized skull.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by The Otter
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Fionn MacKerracher


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Fionn stood still in a moment of confusion as the disembodied voice rang out around him and the Boars' commander, his brow furrowing as he relaxed again from the ready position he'd just taken up. "What fresh hell is—" Then his eyes widened as the man cursed, blood covering his armour and the ground in front of him as he fell. All thoughts of a duel gone for the moment, Fionn dropped his own blade, rushing forwards to catch the man. "Tyaethe!" he bellowed across the battlefield, calling out to the only one he'd seen break a curse thus far. "Clarice, Amy, Veilena! Get over here!"

No sense, of course, in limiting it to just the one, when they had another who was well-versed in curses, a healer, and simply a powerful mage at the ready.

He turned back to the Boars' commander, quickly pulling off the man's helmet. "Whatever you have left in you, man, speak. If not a name, give us a title, something identifiable, quickly!"
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by 6slyboy6
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~Cae Mayl~

The sharp claws of a cursehound the last thing that flashed before her eyes, before the sword of an unknown savior felled the beast amidst it's leaping motion. She fell back, stunned as a fog overcame her mind, the near-miss of the attack leaving her reeling from a small panic attack.

Her fingers clutched onto the lute, and with shaky hands she raised it to her trembling to continue a song of sorrow and pain to accompany the viscous bloodshed taking place all around.

There was a blur of colors and shapes moving from side to side, like shadows that danced their ominous rites under the moonlight. Adrenaline. Cortisol. A chemical brew of hormones that drug the mind when in danger, and numbs the senses until all that's left of the world is narrow little peek of the battlefield from outside your own body. A trained man could rip every muscle in their body without realizing, but for someone in shock, they threatened a premature death if not dealt with quickly.

"M-Mayon..." Amy's lips trembled as she called out, eyes closing as she shut out the gruesome melee unfolding around her. She tried to focus on her faith, her connection to her goddess, but her other senses were assaulted even without her looking. The sound of steel against flesh and bone. The metallic taste of the air from the spilt blood. The horrifying aura of the pain from all the fallen that they felt before meeting their demise.

"O' Goddess, guide your faithful's hand in her most trying hour. Lit by your grace, give me the strength to endure." Shaking from the shock and waiting for a miracle to free her from this nightmare, an repressed part of her mind began to wake up from it's slumber. Like a soft hand on her shoulders, it sought to alleviate her pain and whisper tempting lies into her ears. As if someone else guided her hands, Amy's tune on the flute began to shift and change.

It was no longer sorrow, but it was joy. Fear couldn't control the notes as they were replaced by temptation. The music that once shivered in pain now playfully tempted all those who listened to partake in the bloodshed. There was a perverse joy in these tunes, one fueled by grisly murder, an uncanny willingness to fuel the flames of combat. Her fingers no longer felt cold, the hand that guided them filling them with warmth that made her body tingle. She now yearned for a song of war, a lullaby that would sate this wicked desire. Like an offering to a deity she performed her most vigorous melody yet as she finally opened her eyes and took in the battlefield with all her sense.

Deep down, Amy knew that this offering wasn't to Mayon: her hands are cold but caring, her voice commanding but soft, and her presence ephemeral but soothing. This fire from deep within was nothing of the sort: it was fueled by dark desire, by craving and temptation that could never be sated. It warmed her up and gave her strength unlike anything she had felt, and it made her hungry...

It made her crave for blood.

By the time Amy had realised how serious her affliction had become, the battlefield swallowed her up and took control of her.

Hands moving on her own as she performed a melody of bloodshed, the half-demon joyfully frolicked through the fallen in what could only be described as a ghastly jaunt. The once timid cleric now seemed very fond of murder, and she swept across the battlefield like a whirlwind, bringing her warm tune far too close to the frontlines, seemingly ignorant of her own fragility. Only when the curse-beast appeared did she seem to regain her senses a little, her tune shifting to a more playful tone as she kept a distance from the monsters. Never skipping a beat, the flute kept singing it's rallying cry, ushering all to join the fight against the powerful new foe that had appeared.

To Amy, the world was a blur, and she ceded control to this BURNING feeling inside of her that had freed her of the fears that once kept her chained. Not a trouble in the world, she reveled in the battle, appearing besides an ally in a fight, bolstering their spirits with an irresistible song before seemingly disappearing into thin air and appearing besides yet another knight. All those she visited would feel the same burning sensation deep inside of themselves: a yearning for glorious combat, the searing heat of melee and the spilt crimson of blood. No doubt an effect of her magical connection with emotions, whereas previously only one of her fellow knights had experienced Amy's ability to share her feelings, now all those who listened to her son could experience the same fire burning deep within her: friend and foe alike.

It was a hymn of battle... and an ode to slaughter.

To Amy, the world was a blur that only started clearing up once the ferocity of the fighting began to die down. As bodies littered the muddy battlefield and incredibly magic swept across the battlefield, she became numb to the smell of blood. The clashing of swords was but a distant rumble, and she finally felt the cool night air assault her skin once more. Beads of sweat ran down her face as the unknown presence that had kept her fired up now began to retreat in disgust. As the enemy rooted and the last remaining beasts were hunted down by her fellow knights, the fire had no more fuel. The entity retreated, taking with it the soothing fog of war, and left Amy gasping for air as her song came to a trembling end.

For a moment she couldn't even remember where she was, much less what had happened. She lowered her flute, only to realize she had been only using one hand: her other one clutching a bloodied dagger, her hands and dress covered in splatters of blood. Her right leg was covered in blood: sometime during the battle she received a shallow cut that was still bleeding a bit. As her head cleared, the searing pain flooded her mind as well, and she could feel that it wasn't the only injury she had sustained without even realizing. Bruises and soreness covered her body, and panic began to take hold over her once more.

"What happened?" She whispered quietly and looked up at the night sky, seeking answers from Mayon. But the goddess remained silent, the moon hiding behind a cloud as it shrouded the battlefield in a shadow.

Her fellow knights, however, did not, and the last sounds of a fading battlefield finally reached her after an eternity of darkness. "Clarice, Amy, Veilena! Get over here!"

Her body moving on her own, still staring at the bloody dagger in her hand, Amy walked over to Fionn and then collapsed down onto her knees next to him. It took a few moments before she looked up at the knight, and then the leader of the boars, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she did so. "By Mayon..." She whispered as she examined the bloodied helmet now tossed to the site, and then her gaze returned to Fionn. In the moment, she was far from being in a position to help anyone, her tired body shaking and sore, mind still foggy from the powerful presence that took control of her body previously. With a quiet wince as she stood up with her injured leg, she leaned onto Fionn's back, one arm crossing around the knight's shoulders, whilst her other hand landed on the commander's shoulders. "Mayon bring you peace... just - think about the name. What you want to tell. Quick, b-before we both collapse." Amy wasn't joking, she felt exhausted and more or less relied on Fionn propping her up, but she wanted to be of use one more time before the Adrenaline withdrawal made her collapse. "Think of a name!" She gasped, looking into the man's eyes with the last remaining cinders of the previous fire burning in her eyes. If the man could focus his thoughts in his dying moments, she'd catch them, and tell what she learned to Fionn.


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Lein



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Lein's body reacted before he could discern why Steffen, normally so deliberate in his movement, had cried out so suddenly. An instinct of attentiveness finely sharped against the whetstone of the expansive peregrination, Lein launched himself behind Steffen's charge, pivoting with the landing foot and leveling his bow at the death-throes of the monster. It only took the silver glint of a polearm launched in alarm for his comprehension to catch up with his movement.

Had it been a living, fervent opponent, he would have rather congratulated his restless opponent. A warm laughter and a clap of the shoulder as he pulled his would-be killer by the scruff and perhaps drove him to a toast to the sheer tenacity. Maybe an invitation to work together next time, should circumstance permit, as any who would be stupid enough to keep conspiring to drive a stake through the Hundi's heart from beyond the point of apparent defeat would be just as stupid enough to drive a stake at the Hundi's foes.

But instead, Lein felt a cold, malingering exasperation. There was no consciousness that tethered this slick mass of dying to the world, nor a warmth to be extended from or to anyone. Only an tattered instinct that ravenously defiled all life placed before it, an rancid intrusion of violence that no longer belonged.

Efficiency be damned. He did not care whether this thing was merely mimicking another bout of strength. The blasphemy had been fighting on stolen time for far too long. Lein's arrows would point at any joint that dared to expose itself to Lein's sights, pummeling it with contemptuous regard.
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Sergio della Gherardesca


"I could weather the pain if I could still use the arm." I clear my throat, taking a deep breath. "I'm just half as useful now, eh?"

I smile behind the helmet at word of Ser Gerard's victory over the man-mountain. My head swims. Deliriousness is setting in slightly.

"The battle is nearly over, hmm? I can...stand until then." I feel unconfident in my words for once. I wish I could fall onto my backside and stare into space, cigarette alight.

"Perhaps that new bella donna's hands are free." I smirk.

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The sound of battle began to die.

Fanilly lowered her blade at her side. It was stained black from the curse abominations and the hounds, and crimson from the blood of the Golden Boars.

The clash had come to its end, at least mostly.

Fanilly gulped in air, slowly becoming aware of the bumps and bruises she'd sustained over the course of battle. Even though she was fully armored, it didn't make her entirely impervious to such things. But it did prevent her from taking more serious damage in many cases, and that meant that anything she had sustained could wait. After all, some minor throbbing in her limbs was nothing compared to what others could be suffering.

"Attend anyone who has been wounded," she called to the healers, her breathing still heavy, "That includes any seriously injured prisoners. They should at least live to stand trial."

But, naturally, the knights would come first if anyone had been hurt badly enough.

Fanilly stepped forward, her eyes travelling across the battlefield and falling upon Sir Fionn, Dame Amy, and the Boar Commander. But it didn't look like the outcome of a winning duel in the least...

"Ah... Clarice, come here, now!"

Their enemy was clearly using curses, so whatever was happening, then maybe...!

"Hey?! Don't just order me around, you're not my-"

There wasn't any time to just wait for her to complain, the Knight-Captain grabbing the curse mage by the wrist and practically dragging her along behind her.

The Boar Commander was in a terrible state, blood dribbling from his mouth and nose, even from the corners of his eyes. When he tried to speak, more flooded from his throat.

"H... have you been able to get anything out of him?" Fanilly asked, hesitatingly, as she stood by the man. His armor was entirely undamaged. It was easy enough to put together that something had gone terribly wrong.

"Hmph," complained Clarice, "I'm not just a toy you can simply drag about, you know! I killed dozens of those ugly piggies, at least you can-"

She cut herself off when she realized what everyone was looking at.

"... Tch, that's a powerful curse," she commented, "A really nasty one, too, but for it to be this effective when the Caster isn't around it has to be somewhere on him."

She stepped forward, peering over the Boar Commander's Armor. He could no longer speak, but when he realized what Amy was doing-

A pale face. No, perhaps a mask? A blank white mask, with a single eye inscribed upon it. Wide, staring. There were no visible eyeholes or any other features. Indeed, it was surrounded in nothing but an inky blackness.

And then Amy's mental vision was filled with red.

The Commander gave one last gasp as blood poured from his nose and mouth.

He was gone.

"... Too late," Clarice said with a scowl, "It was on the back of his armor, a curse attacking his insides and breaking them down. Whoever did it probably planted it there in secret. Hmph. I would have done it with my fetch, that's a lot more charming."

Questions about what Clarice thought of as charming aside, Fanilly's shoulders slumped for a moment before she turned towards the half-demon.

"Dame Amy, the healers will be able to attend to you soon," she began, concern on her features when she noticed the mage's injured state, "But first, did you see anything recognizable?"

It was their best chance at locating a culprit.




The final curse abomination slumped. The last, fiendish burst of energy the converging curses had given it was at its end.

But as they escaped from its frame, its body was clearly unable to handle the sheer outpouring of malignancy. Unlike the other abominations, it was breaking down, liquifying into a putrid, black, tarry substance, twisted bones left behind.




Veilena scowled. Not only had she been called for, but the battle was over, and yet the knights forming her defensive line were not allowing her to leave.

"The Boars have either surrendered or died," the Cazt heir complained with a wave of her hand, "My Knight is in need of assistance. At the very least, could one of you do it?"

She gestured to the battlefield.

Haelstadt, their black armor drenched in the blood of dozens upon dozens of enemy mercenaries, had carefully placed their sword aside and was now on their hands and knees, reaching out.

They were trying to guide themselves back to their head. Unfortunately, said head was now face-down, likely having been kicked at some point during the fight, making the ordeal a considerable and surreal challenge.

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Gerard Segremors

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"...Maybe so." he breathed after a moment in reply, feeling the atmosphere around them go slack as what proved to be the last of the Boars were mopped up in short order, well away from the quartet of rank-breakers. That looseness set into his shoulders in short order, poised and ready to drive thunderous swings into enemies never to come till now—

And a slight wince, as the stinging line drawn from cheekbone to jaw beside his left eye began to burn again in the cold wind that brushed over Mayon's shrine, a dozen fellows across his frame lighting up in turn. Along the gaps in his armor, tracing the folded cloth that covered the joints he'd needed to move— they burned, stung, leaked that dull roar into the night, now cold compared to the kiln of battle.

He'd been in the thick of it for as long as anyone here, against men cut from cloth barely removed from his own. He'd found a higher caliber, sure. Clearly not high enough yet. Still aching like he'd been trampled by a cavalry charge after running a marathon. Still wearing a few new lessons.

His palm rose to wipe sweat free from his face, brushing against the line and really annoying it—

"tch."

And pulled it back to reveal red in the cold moonlight. What was more, there was a throbbing ache along the length of his forearm, flaring as the grip and shift of the hammer's weight forced it to flex. That was the one that had been caught up in the curse hound's jaw, until he'd maneuvered it into a... a warhammer strike, he recalled. Maybe he'd not been as unscathed there as he thought, either. Plenty of clashes had run through his bones through this long-ass day. He wanted to get the hell home and sleep for two days straight.

"Best keep up on your feet so you can find out, then. Have to guess she's with the Captain— and I heard Fionn calling for the both of 'em."

He wiped the palm against the cloth, and returned his grip to the hilt of the longsword he'd momentarily sheathed.

All that said, even if he knew this sensation was a long time coming, a concluding battle didn't mean concluded time on the field. The aftermath often took longer— mopping up those not long for the world, rounding up the survivors for questioning or capture, making sure dead bodies were dead for real. Thankless, silent work, mostly. Grim, but familiar and necessity.

"I can handle cleanup over here. Sounds like important stuff back that way that needs seasoned heads." He craned his neck and gestured with a jerk of the skull. "Most of the healing crew, too."

He was a little pallid, a little sluggish, and felt like hell— but not crippled to the point where magic was needed as soon as possible, instead of a while on. Priorities mattered right now.

He began to stalk forward, reflex carrying him along the circuit with little input from the mind.
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Tyaethe


As the healer finished the bulk of their work, Tyaethe waved for them to carry on and... well, stood there. Fionn had called for her attention for some reason, but aside from not having a clue what relevance she was supposed to have, it seemed that had resolved before she could have contributed anyway. Besides, what relevant skill did she have? "I'm somewhat resistant to curses by dint of regenerating and having far too much mana" wasn't a transferable talent. The only other thing she could do would have just been to put the man out of his misery, and that didn't seem to be the goal anyway.

What should she do now? Nominally, she was guarding these prisoners, but that didn't really count as doing anything. They were too scared to run for the most part, and even if they did it would be pointless to chase them. There were going to be enough other knights spreading out to do that.

Search for some trace of their missing evil? It probably wasn't here. Now that the fighting was over, Cae Mayl felt... normal. There was the pall of death and black magic, but it hadn't been changed fundamentally, and would probably clean up entirely once the moon properly rose. If there was anything here, it had to be gone. Even if it was, what good would she be in finding it? "Hey, can you find something when you can barely see what's going on?" It would be the fort again.

Same for finding Haelstadt's head (and how had that happened? Odd), the scent of blood was too ubiquitous to point out one person's missing body part.

She'd just stand here and wait for the moon, then. There was nothing else for her to contribute.
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Fionn MacKerracher


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By the time Amy had made it over, the Boars' commander had long lost any ability to speak around the well of blood rising to fill his throat; as his final breaths bubbled through Fionn knew there was likely no chance that Clarice and Veilena with their knowledge could halt the curse and prolong the man's life, or that Tyaethe might manage to pull something else out of her hat like she had the night of the ball. No, as Amy sank down against him and issued her own plea to the man, he closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Gods have what mercy on you they will," he murmured at the mercenary's last gasps, pink foam bubbling up and over the grimaced lips. "At least you weren't so proud as to refuse to try and aid us at the end." He let the body down as the others spoke up around him, one hand closing the corpse's eyes rather than leave their empty stare. His left arm wrapped around Amy's waist, dimly aware that she was relying on his physical support as much as she was trying to help with the enemy commander. With his right, he reached out, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the sword he'd dropped moments before as he placidly listened to the others speak around him.

Staring down at the Boar's face, still twisted with pain even in death. Whatever crimes the man had committed in life, he'd at least held on to enough of a sense of decency not to support the corruption of his men, enough of his honour to answer a challenge honestly. Betrayed and silenced by his patron at the last chance he had to make any show of repentance for his wrongdoing. After so many years spent on the field of battle, some in outright war, there was little that could make Fionn sick—but his stomach still roiled with revulsion at the injustice committed before his own eyes.

He hung his head, breathing deeply, still for a moment as the others spoke around him.

"Clarice Kastin."

He growled the name out in the momentary silence, his voice as brittle as grinding ice as he played back the last bits of the conversation around him, head still low. Not offering the girl the chance to try and win him over with some cute act or pout, nor leaving any room in his words for her to pick apart or disregard his statement. "You owe our captain an apology."
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~Cae Mayl~

As she touched the dying man's shoulders, her mind was flooded with an image as the cryptic mindscape of the boar's commander poured into her own.

There, in the vastness of a foreign mind she saw the gargantuan face of the pale mask, surrounded by an endless void of nothingness. Bodyless, she still felt miniscule when faced with the ivory stare of the single eye inscribed upon it, the mere presence of the mask making her shiver. In her mind, Amy felt the commander reaching out to her, trying to tell her all he could and the muscles in her arm tensed as she attempted to do the same, trying to fight the intimidating presence and learn all that she could. Moments away from getting something like a name or a location from the thoughts of the man, the world SHOOK violently and her vision was filled with a bright red color as she was cut off from the man's thoughts.

DEATH

Amy felt the violent yank as her mind recoiled in fear, the violence of being inside someone's mind as they died seeping into her own mind as she returned. The finality of the moment carried a weight with it that no human mind could possibly bear, and even a half-demon like her suffered a whiplash from the experience. Her body tensed up and she gasped, her eyes rolling back as any strength left her body, if only for a moment, only Fionn's hold of her stopping Amy from falling over.

It took but a heartbeat until she regained her vigour, even if in her mind it felt like an eternity until the world began to make sense again. The distant touch of death lingered in the her thoughts as she looked at Fanilly, and a few long seconds passed until she mustered the strength to speak up, the image from the commander's head still fresh in her mind.

"I saw... I-I saw a mask, I think. Large and pale, it felt... cold. There was also one large eye inscribed unto the surface. Open, staring. I-I don't remember much else, the..." Amy hesitated for a moment, her gaze falling upon the now dead commander of the Boars before returning to Fanilly. "The image faded before I could ascertain a-any other details. No name, I'm afraid. I hope it helped."

Falling silent and offering a small bow to Fanilly, she contemplated a long day's worth of emotions that were now swelling in her chest. She was more than happy to let silence become her new best friend until she could find a warm bed to sleep in and clear her thoughts. What had happened to her during the battle? Why could she scarcely recall any details of it, or even the encounter at the fort earlier? There was a thick, suffocating fog in her mind that needed to be cleared, but that couldn't be done until she was free of yet another graveyard's influence. So many lay dead at their feet... their pain and fear just as terrible as it was the first time she encountered a massacre, but at least this time she knew how to deal with them.

Feeling Fionn's anger as he loudly called out to Clarice, she was ready to leave his side and let the man fume (or argue) without the need to care for her safety, Amy found it quite hard to find her footing. She knew it wasn't uncommon to experience this sort of fatigue after battle, especially for inexperienced knights, but she never expected to barely be able to keep herself upright, or her eyes open. She was just about ready to pass out, more than happy to accept any form of help that could help her get back to her quarters, but for the moment she kept hanging onto Fionn for a while longer, not wanting to stumble and fall in front of everyone.



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Steffen Gravinir


Steffen could already smell whatever horror show the creature that inhibited this ugly twisted mess had to go through, but his blade sank further until he could finally feel its resigning slump, a final act before its disintegration. The Ingvarr already separated from the rotting corpse as it fell apart, but the smell quickly engulfed the immediate surrounding. The twilight above with the calm and still water would have made for a serene winding down after a relatively fine day of work ridding the world of evil, but it wouldn't really be the case until the stench returned back to the earth.

"Bloody hell..." His eyebrows twisted as he noticed the residue of tars on his sword, feeling the churning stain slowly gnawing at the moonlight gleaming steel. He made sure to have that thoroughly wiped with cloth from a dead Boar's body nearby before sheathing it back. His body and limbs tickled around, all adrenaline and tension slowly throttling back to idle when it was clear that the battle was over, checking for any signs of injuries. Surprisingly, aside from numbness and aches that followed as a result of his constant running, slamming and battering, he got off the battle quite fine.

Taking a huff as he finally made eye contact once again with Lein. An amused smile more than anything trumped over lecturing about the earlier act. "You are one popular man indeed. Make sure to let me know beforehand, so I could prepare them some of that Ingvarr hospitality too." He said as he picked up his spear and laid it to rest in his shield hand. "How are you faring this entire fracas? Any injuries, wounds, bruises?"

Seeing Sir Renar, Steffen passed by him with an acknowledgement wave. "Thanks for the help." He stated as plainly as he imagined the man would have preferred. Seeing the group in the distance, he sure hoped that there would be no more hopping around. The cathartic beating of those Boars was a satisfactory ending to an act for now.

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Renar Hagen


As the battle died down at last, Renar sheathed his sword before retrieving his poleaxe from the corpse of the last curse abomination, yanking it out with a grunt of exertion. With that done, he nodded back towards Sirs Lein and Steffen alike while wiping the axe head of his weapon off onto the clothing of another dead Boar. After everything that happened, he felt...disappointed. The inane search at the fort, followed by an, if anything, underwhelming battle? Renar grit his teeth beneath his helmet.

"That was it?" He spat, looking down at the corpse at his feet. "For all of the Golden Boars' oh-so-legendary willingness to win at all costs, they threw precious little of worth at us. A wave of incompetents followed by four abominations that didn't even manage to inflict any significant casualties. The Bandit King's lot felled more men than these ever so vaunted sellswords." Was he tired from the battle? Of course. His lungs burned. His muscles ached. But a hard day's training accomplished much the same. Barely a scratch on his armor. Some of the Boars had managed to land a few glancing blows before he'd run them through, but that was it.

A sneer. Oh, how he cursed this time of peace. He'd never finished his squiring in time to take part in the last conflict that actually mattered. Goddesses help him, how was his star ever to rise if there weren't any real battles to distinguish himself in?

A sigh. Renar forced himself back into a composed state. While his little rant exposed some of what he actually thought, if he screamed everything he actually wanted to, more than a few people would look at him askance. Would that he could voice his true feelings more often. But catharsis was a reward only earned in private.

"What now, then? Shall we report in to the Captain for further orders?" Renar asked of the other two with him, planting the butt of his poleaxe into the dirt. "As I see it, there's precious little we can follow up on at this point without further leads, and we'll not be getting them from these corpses. Not if they were ever even halfway intelligent, at least."

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