[IC] The Last March of the Living

[Nariata]

Act:1 Part 1-Outside the village

Hrossbjorn, and his small army, stood on the edge of a small village that they had stumbled upon a few hours prior. The village had no particular claim to fame as far as Hrossbjorn could tell, and it seemed big enough to house around fifty people. Hrossbjorn stood five steps out in front of his army, his eyes scanning the shadows inside the houses. Sometimes he imagined he was seeing faces in the windows and motion in the spaces between the houses, but thus far no one else had seen or heard anything else. The stress of the past week had already gotten to Hrossbjorn. Marching through the countryside had become one potential trap after another, and it taxed his mind. He was seeing shadows behind every tree and monsters in his sleep. Despite the increasingly drastic nature of this, imaginary threats were becoming the least of his worries as his eyes were drawn to bright flashes in the distance, and the low rumble of thunder that soon followed. A large storm was heading straight towards his forces. Already exhausted, the heavy rain that would accompany that storm would make life that much more difficult for him and his soldiers.

This was the new life of the Earl, the retreat from the Mad King armies had created many new, and tricky at that, problems for his soldiers. There was a legitimate problem related to logistics that needed dealt with, as their food reserves were already low a week ago when they arrived at the battle. While normally he could simply enter a city and refill supplies, the news of the Mad Kings victory had spread like wildfire. Reports kept coming in from cities across the land, and the cities behind their current position told stories of monsters breaking down their walls and murdering every living soul they encountered. These reports became less frequent with time, and the news ahead of them were no better. People were scared of what happened. Rumors were starting to spread that cities, instead of evacuating and retreating to better defensive positions, were preparing for the inevitable sieges. Most also barred entrance to the city itself and the guard often confiscated any and all food reserves. It was madness to Hrossbjorn. He offered them entrance to the Glamhoth lands and safety behind the walls of Castle Estel when he sent four of his five riders out to spread the message. The final rider would act as a rear scout, keeping his nose out of danger while monitoring the advance of the enemy.

“What do you think is taking him so long?” Asked Gyrid in their native Glamhoth language. “The village is not all that big and the scout has been gone for half an hour.”

“He is either a good scout,” responded Hrossbjorn, also speaking in his native Glamhoth language, “or he is dead.” He joked.

“And if he is dead?” Gyrid asked again. A small smirk crossed her face as she presented the thought. She herself held the newcomers to the group to a lower standard than the Glamhoth soldiers, viewing them as a liability and in some cases even dangerous to the group. Gyrid had a keen eyes for signs of Black Magic, and she had noticed one member of the group in particular in regards to it's use. She had noticed that the Va’sha mage, Walden, was never very far from a dark black colored leather book. While she had no proof just yet of his involvement, she had her hunch. She was trained from a young age to root out Black Magic use and end the threat that it presented to the living; this was one of her roles as a Rofella Guard. Signs, such as a suspicious tome and odd behavior, usually indicate to her that someone one is in bed with demons. While he had not presented himself as odd or suspicious, his book caused Gyrid to keep her eyes on him whenever she had the chance.

“First we will drink a pint in his memory, then we will avenge him.” Hrossbjorn responded. Hrossbjorn differed in his thoughts about the newcomers. They each held a certain skill set that could make or break his effort to make it to the Castle Estel. A woman who can control the weather could serve useful if the village turns out to be not safe, and a powerful mage could level a whole portion of an enemies formation if they run into the vanguard of the Mad Kings’ army while the elf, who has spent most of his life as a scout for the Lebethron army, could locate any potential trap before the army arrived. There were a few other additions to his army that he did not think were worth extra thought. Though they all had their uses in his army, and he would make sure he protected these assets as long as they kept themselves in line and under control.

"I could use a pint right now, whether or not he dies." Chimed in a Glamhoth Shield Warrior behind them in the Glamhoth language. He was a tall soldier, standing nearly six foot three inches tall. His beard was a crimson red color that peaked out from underneath his metal helmet.

He was met by an 'aye' from most of the Glamhoth soldiers, each looked as if they were thinking back at a loving memory with the thought of a pint of mead on their minds.

"I could as well, my friend." Responded Hrossbjorn in the Glamhoth language and smiled. His soldiers were still in good spirit despite the week of running and marching.

“Sir.” The voice of the lead scout shouted from up ahead, pulling Hrossbjorn from his thoughts “I think there is something wrong with the village. Everyone seems to have vacated the area, and left behind all their clothes and other valuables. Many doors remain locked, as if the villagers expected to return home. To me it seems like something happened in the village, something terrible.”

“No vengeance today, Hrossbjorn.” Gyrid joked, this time in the common tongue. She moved forward a few steps towards the village and scanned the area with her eyes. “I suggest we move into the village, and take it by force if the enemy is there.” Hrossbjorn quickly moved to Gyrid's side as she continued.

“If the enemy vanguard has reached us then we must be quick in getting out of this area.” Hrossbjorn whispered in the native Glamhoth language. “You know this is not wise.”

“The men are tired, Hrossbjorn,” Gyrid whispered back, “I am tired.” She paused as she looked back to the village. “If we are to make it to the Castle we need to regain some strength and grab whatever provisions we can. We have a long journey yet to march. The last report from our rear scout stated we had a full three days lead on the vanguard.” Pausing again as she moved back to the side of Hrossbjorn. “Would you rather me threaten you with the information I know?”

“No.” Hrossbjorn responded in the common tongue. “You are right.” He placed his hand on his chin and began to stroke his beard as he thought of a quick plan of action for entering the village. The entrance nearest his army was an almost straight shot down the road, with the road itself flanked by the first pair of houses in the village. The road itself would not bend and would continue for another hundred feet before reaching what appeared to be the market or common area of the village. From there it was a short walk to any of the houses.

Hrossbjorn turned his body away from Gyrid and the village before looking back at his soldiers, plan in mind. “Form three lines behind Gyrid and I. Shield Warriors, you are on the outside of the column with your shields facing outwards. Archers, mages and anyone too afraid to be on the outside are inside of it.” Hrossbjorn spoke in the Glamhoth language. He paused as he moved himself closer to the group. “Do not wander off alone, do not do anything stupid and you will live.” Hrossbjorn continued in the Glamhoth language. He paused as he looked over every new face that had joined his army. “If you do wander off or do something stupid, my men and I will save you from whatever is trying to kill you only to have Gyrid kill you.” He finished, this time speaking in the common tongue, as he pointed his ax towards Gyrid.

“You don’t want me to kill you. I steal the souls of those I kill.” She joked, earning a few chuckles from the other Glamhoth warriors.

“We do not know what awaits us in this village. So keep your head on a swivel and scan every doorway and every window, if you see something shout.” Hrossbjorn, once again speaking the Glamhoth language, finished. His eyes moved to the faces of the newcomers, and the realization that he had just ordered them in a language that they did not speak dawned on him. "If you did not understand what I said, you are in the middle of the formation. Do as the other soldiers do."

"Idiot." Gyrid joked, this time earning more of a laugh from the soldiers.

“Any questions? Good.” Hrossbjorn rhetorically asked in the common tongue, before turning around and begun to head towards the village, his makeshift army quickly moving to catch up and form up behind him. If those who did not speak his language wanted to know what the plan was, they would have to ask the Glamhoth soldiers around them, though the two lines of Glamhoth soldiers on the outside with the middle being open should have been a clear indication.

[A Heretic]

In his week of travel with the Glamhoth warriors, Walden had learned a bit about their culture and had grown more curious about their customs. He knew they liked to drink and usually were brawlers, but under Hrossbjorn they had become something else. Still violent and drinkers but something new. If their leader survived he could very well shape how the Glamhoth fought future wars, even with their defeat by the Lavas, and the defeat by the Mad King. Flashes of lighting in the distance suggested a possibly rainshower headed their way. It wouldn’t increase the declining moral within the group. Things were not so bad yet, but he’d seen what one mishap after another could lead to. Desertion or, worse treachery because even the most loyal warrior has a breaking point. They had stopped outside of a village, the scouts of the party had been sent ahead and one behind. It seemed now they were waiting on the return of the rear scout although he was supposedly late. Walden had never been exposed to this part of leadership before. He was used to being called upon when needed and dismissed while he had been serving with Free Men of Lavas, a mercenary company. Hrossbjorn and Gyrid, a woman who seemed suspicious of him, were at the head of the group. A small few of them were talking in their native tongue, and even chuckling a bit.

Walden eyed the village ahead, it seemed quiet, far too quiet even for a place of its size. There should at least be children outside, or women and men attending to chores. Not even the smallest mammal stirred within the deserted streets. A light wind was raised, which rustled his cloak slightly, a reminder that the clouds on the horizon were approaching. He raised his hand to allow his thumb to lightly run over the hastily done sutures, They would need to be pulled out in a week's worth of time he estimated, as the wound had healed slightly faster than anticipated by the mock surgeon who had done the handy work. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the sight of the brown toned woman.

She caused him some worry, as a purifier she would be his natural enemy. His worry was not that she would defeat him if she dared challenge him. His extra twenty-eight years of experience as a mage would easily give him the upper hand. His worry was being exposed for what he was, a black mage, and necromancer. Very few would willing travel with a person such as himself. At the same time this thought finished he remembered the contents of his pack, the tome itself. It was never far from his thoughts, and he had so much more to learn. His original intent was to understand everything the book had to offer, and eventually publish his own writings on it and dispose of the book so that others wouldn’t feel the same desires as he does. But now, he wasn’t so sure what he intended on doing with the book when he finished, every day he could feel the inner struggle between the book and himself. It would be dire for those around him if he fell to the book. Those that had come before him had given up their souls in exchange for power, but the hidden cost had been becoming the servant of something dark. Something that no words could describe.

He snapped back to reality, their leader was now having a very serious discussion with his female counterpart. From what one of the soldiers had told him, she was some type of priestess. The soldier said it as if he should know. It was something that never had come up on his conversations around the campfires with those would join him. Their hissed whispers meant they were discussing something that wouldn’t be shared with the rest of the party. He didn’t really care much for what the company was doing or was going to do. His plan was to find a suitable place to stop off, and leave them in the middle of the night. The longer he traveled with the group the higher the risk of him getting caught was.

His mind went back to those around him, in particular another new member to the group. An odd elf, with something amiss about them. Although he hadn’t been traveling with this person for very long, he felt they would need more observation for him to pinpoint what was different about them. Something familiar and something not at the same time.

Finally Hrossbjorn turned and spoke to the group although he must have forgotten not all of them could speak Glamhoth, and so he listened with mild content at the wall of foreign words that were hurled at him. Eventually he spoke in common, “If you do wander off or do something stupid, my men and I will save you from whatever is trying to kill you only to have Gyrid kill you.” The Earl delivered grimly. Walden scoffed lightly to himself. He had the power to burn shadows into the ground and these men with shield and spear thought they would be his savior. What his kind and generous host didn’t know is that he had years of practice fighting the beasts that went bump in the night, and he’d witnessed first hand things that would cause a lesser man to flee with terror.

"I suppose I had better mind my P's and Q's then." he said to no one in particular. He was very fluent in common and Lavas, and even knew a bit of Firen although for a lack of better words he was not well equipped in that exact language.

The group began its slow crawl forwards. Every time a party took to a formation things seemed to slow down. But it's better to be safe than sorry he supposed. In his mind he formed the characters for a spell, a very potent one. A bolt of fire so hot it would turn sand to glass and melt stone. In reserve of that he had a spell that would light up the darkness, blinding creatures of ill repute and harmed those who were with him as long as they were not bound by darkness in any manor.

[Sypherkhode822]

Kat:

I stood off to the corner of the huddled group, half listening to the murmured translations Samedi croaked into my ear. Instead, I was focusing on the oncoming storm. Even though I barely spoke the language, it was obvious among the postures of the nearby soldiers that they were miserable, and preparing for a horrible storm. I would have to do something about this.

I stole a glance at the pale (but aren't they all here?) man with the horrible book in his satchel. My hands reflexively curled into a fist upon thinking about the danger that book represented to the Harmony, but I chose to stay my hand. When I had won the support of the rest of the group, I would be able to safely turn on the sickened man and that poison he so worshiped.

Sighing, I shook my head. Taking a moment to confer with Samedi on the pronunciation, I shuffle stepped to Gyrid, tapping her on the shoulder, repressing my impulse to avoid looking away at her scars.

"Ah, Gyrid.. I am.. Knowing how to sneak ahead? I can go not seen by anyone. This is good, yes? Should I go?"

I winced internally at my fumbling with Glamhoth. I had been practicing with Samedi the night before, but trying to speak to the fierce woman made me stumble with my words. I only hoped that the other mainlanders here didn't think of me as a complete idiot. I couldn't have that if I were to be the only Purifier here to restore the Harmony. Seas, I missed home.

[Lady Seraphina]

Susanna Grace - On the Road => Holbeck Village

'It will never work.'

"What?" Susanna murmured as she blearily opened her eyes. The ground was hard under her form and her bedroll didn't do enough to lessen the jagged feel of the landscape.

'Behind you.'

Suddenly awake Susanna kicked off her blanket and rolled aside. Moments later a loud crack pierced the air as something thin and heavy slammed in the space where Susanna's head was moments before, splitting rock through her bedroll.

Shamblers she thought quickly reaching for her father's sword. Unfortunately it had been lying next to her on the other side of her sleeping place and now the undead creature was between her and it. Two more shamblers emerged from the trees. Typical, she thought her mind working in an adrenaline induced overdrive.

'First you see one, then two, then the picnics ruined.'

"Quiet," Susanna whispered before she kicked out, knocking the leg bones from underneath the nearest shambler. They were strong, fast and silent but they weren't very durable. With the moment she had bought herself Susanna touched her hands to the ground behind her head and shoved hard, aiding her as she leapt to her feet.

She snatched her father's sword from the ground and unsheathed it in one motion. The blade had been enchanted to repel most forms of arcana which caused it to glow in the presence of the undead. She would have much preferred a solid club for shattering the shamblers but she'd lost her walking stick two days previous crossing a river. This would do.

Susanna swung the blade around decapitating the fallen shambler before she stomped hard on its skull, which cracked like an egg. Unfortunately while she'd crippled the first's moments allowing her to destroy it easily the other two were still unencumbered and as fast and silent as any of their kind.

Before she could turn they were both behind her. She drove her elbow back and heard the sound of breaking bone before the other grabbed her around the neck. Her throat made squelching noise as her lungs tried to pull oxygen through the closed airway.

'Blood.' spoke the voice in her head and not in a position to argue pushed her hand up her blouse to the rune that was burned into her chest. She pushed her fingernails deep into her flesh till liquid darkened her hands. Then she pulled them free. The blood was black.

The moment she could touch the shambler's cracked bones the blood burst into flames with a gorgeous, blinding white light. The shamblers, too close to pull away and too mindless to realize the danger simply stood at the flames touched their bones then raced along their bodies like they were covered in whisky. The fire turned a dark blue and in a moment the shamblers had burned away.

Susanna fell to the ground coughing as she gasped for air. Though she'd only be deprived for a moment the grip of the undead was strong and she knew she'd have bruises around her throat in a few hours.

'One... Two... Three... Better go before the picnics ruined.'

Susanna desperately wished she could give the demon a scathing glare, not for the first time either. She couldn't though. Lilith whatever else she was, was trapped in Susanna's soul, a disembodied and usually deeply disruptive voice inside Susanna's head.

"Bitch," Susanna muttered as she touched her fingers to the place she'd cut herself. The skin was already healed. Because of Lilith's influence Susanna healed faster than normal but this was different than that. This was vanity pure and simple. Demons liked their hosts perfect, any cut, any nick, any break in the skin healed instantly. Everything else, muscle damage, bone breaks, anything below the surface remain until her body could fix itself but her skin always sealed itself moments after injury.

'Not having fun dearie?'

"As a matter of fact," Susanna said as she gathered up her things and packed them away "you seeing how close you can get me to dead isn't my idea of a good time." She continued to move quickly and methodically though with what little she owned it didn't take long till she was ready to travel. Lilith might have been a demon and in this form a major pain but she was right. Three shamblers meant more would be in the area soon. She had to start moving and her destination by her estimates wasn't far away, the village of Holbeck.

As she moved through the trees Lilith spoke again.

'I have told, it will never work.'

"And I'm sure your final resting place at the end of this has nothing to do with that assessment."

'The Lesser Key is not something to be trifled with. It is magic that even the denizens of the underworld leave well enough alone. There's a reason this purifier you are searching for keeps it away from others. It is dangerous.'

"And it can help me to be myself again. I can't live like this, I create hellfire from my own blood, I see the darkness in people's souls, I drink human blood and it tastes, it tastes delicious. This is hell for me Lilith, but what would you know of that."

'You believe I am unfamiliar with hell? Child the Lesser Key opens a portal to the Goetia, a great prison beneath the City of Dis in the fifth circle of the underworld. It is a place that houses seventy two demons so dangerous even the archdemons feared them. If you think you know the underworld now your heart will stop when you see what's on the other side of that portal.'

"I don't care about the cost Lilith, my life is ended either way, the least I can have is the rest of my mortal years without you playing games with my mind."

'You cannot even be sure the grimoire will do what you wish of it. The ritual that crazed elf used on us was invented by him with pieces taken from a hundred different dark spells. Why would you believe something as old as the Goetia Grimoire could undo such a haphazardous spell?'

"Because it has to." Susanna could almost feel Lilith rolling her eyes.

'Those feelings will destroy us both. The Goetia is something no human should ever see and no demons wants to lay eyes on. I warned you, remember that.'

Susanna let out an angry sigh as Lilith fell silent. She's spent twelve months trying to do things the right way, the safe way. Tracking down rituals and spells, demon summonings and bargains. Nothing she found yielded any result and now after living with the creature for three years, two as a bystander to horrible atrocities and one in command but just as helpless to remedy the situation Susanna found herself willing to do anything just to be rid of the demon. Consequences be damned.

Eventually the village she'd been searching for came in sight. Holbeck was not large but if Susanna was very very lucky the man she was searching for did, as the rumors said, now live here. According to information painstakingly gained the man in possession of the Lesser Key of Solomon was an old sage and practitioner of purification magic. In these dark times he kept the cosmic balance by tracking down objects of great demonic and necromantic power and sealing them away. Susanna just prayed that this village was indeed the place he called home.

'This is folly, Susan. It can only end badly.'

"I suppose that makes it no different than anything else you touch?" Susanna murmured under her breath. As she was nearing a populated area she didn't want to seem mad as she talked to herself. Luckily in the time she'd harbored Lilith, Susanna had become quite adept at speaking so quietly that only her own ears could hear.

'Turn back from this, working together our lives could be spectacular, but only if you abandon this course of action.'

"Desperation doesn't suit you."

'And apathy for everything that will fall in your wake does not suit you.' She paused for a moment and Susanna almost thought she heard a rather disconcerting smile. 'We are I think wielding the others nature. A curious thing when opposites are made the same.'

"I am nothing like you." Susanna hissed.

'I hope you'll remember that before it is too late to turn back.'

"Silence." Susanna said as she entered the village proper and began scanning houses, searching for a public building that might hold a record of the town's denizens, or even simply someone to ask about her target.
@Nariata

[Dulcet]

Aliya Montcarre:

Aliya’s eyes slowly crept open, and a tiny slit of light greeted her. She shivered despite the blanket around her shoulders, and looked around in confusion. She had expected to be back on the Leone, sailing back into Lavas waters, but instead she was surrounded in dirt and rough wooden supports… and then it struck her.

She remembered arriving at the mouth of the river, and just barely avoiding beaching the Leone. A small, gnarled wretch of a man standing in a clearing to pick up their cargo. The feeling of dread that came over her before an otherworldly force marched her three hours from the river to an isolated outpost… the screams and shouts of surprise as she and her away team were ambushed there. Blindly charging at the enemy in a rage, and then getting separated from the rest of her crew; save for her first mate. A night of cursing and fleeing from a slowly-shambling enemy.

She noticed she was alone, and panic welled up again.

“Madeline? Where are ya?” she called out, but no reply came.

Last night they had been extremely lucky to stumble onto a hunting blind and subsequently have enough time to stuff its viewing slit full of dirt, leaves, and branches. While the horde shuffled around the blind, none of them ever set foot near or on it. Unless the enemy had wandered off, there would have been no time for Madeline to slip away.

Aliya realized that the blind’s viewing slit should have been stuffed shut. Something had cleared away the debris.

She stood up and pawed around the dark interior until her hands chanced upon her voulge. When she tried to reach for the shaft, she only grasped air.

“Must’ve taken the shaft and gone out,” she thought, and she stumbled around the blind until she found its hide-covered exit.

Without stopping to check if there was any danger outside, Aliya stepped out from the blind and into the forest’s dim morning sunlight. Her landsickness buzzed in the back of her mind already, and she stumbled over a tree root as she looked around. Madeline was nowhere to be found.

Anxiety began to creep up into her thoughts. She didn’t care much for being alone for the most part, but being alone in a forest seemingly filled to the brim with ungodly creatures bent on killing her was not ideal. Her grip on her voulge tightened, and she held it at the ready. Shadows that were once benign started to make her jump, and the rustling in the trees was greeted by the end of her weapon.

“Captain,” came a voice from behind her. Aliya jumped, and swung around to find a weary-looking Madeline staring at her. “This certainly isn’t your element, is it?”

“Oh, bloody fuckin'ell,” Aliya sighed as she relaxed. “Had me worried. Thought you’d gone and gotten yerself killed while I was sleeping.”

Madeline stifled a laugh. “With all due respect, Captain, I think that I’m the better on-land outdoorsman than you are; given I was raised in a forest like this one.”

Aliya feigned annoyance, but then smiled. “Well, I’ll give ya that. Glad you’re picking up my slack, as always.”

The wind rustled the trees again, and Aliya looked to Madeline. She motioned to get back into the blind, and Aliya followed.

“What were y’doing out there anyways?” Aliya asked

“Gathering these,” Madeline started while she unfurled her shirt to reveal a bounty of berries and nuts, “...and I also took the liberty of climbing the tallest tree I could find to check both for enemies and for landmarks.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Well, the good news is that it seems that the beasts have wandered off somewhere to the west. Doesn’t even look like they left anyone behind to watch out for us.”

Aliya frowned. “Bad news?”

“I have no idea where we are,” Madeline stated bluntly, and Aliya deflated. “The river’s well outside of my sight, and as far as I could tell, there’s us and this forest, and that’s it.”

They looked at each other in silence, and the situation weighed heavily on them. Aliya’s landsickness seemed to worsen for a while, and Madeline was markedly uncomfortable-looking as well. To pass the awkward silence, they absently began to snack on what little food they stumbled upon, but all it seemed to do was increase their appetites.

“I really wish we had just chosen to go on leave now,” Madeline said wryly, and she threw some pebbles around.

“Would’ve been nice t’visit those clearwater isles, yeah,” Aliya sighed. “I don’t wanna die on bloody land, of all things.”

Silence fell on them again, and Aliya began to grumble. “We can’t just sit in this blind n’die—though you’re better company to die with than most.”

Madeline nodded. “I don’t want to just slowly starve to death either.”

“What say we take our chances out there? If we take an arrow to the neck or get hacked t’bits at least it’ll be quick.”

“I will always follow you, Captain. ” Madeline replied firmly. "Lead the way, and I'll be right behind you."

Aliya clapped her on the shoulder. “Good lass.”

She rummaged around the blind, and found the blanket she had been using, along with her rucksack. The thing was heavy with a locked box and a few of her personal belongings. She waited for Madeline to gather whatever she might have lying around, and led the two of them out of the blind. She turned around a few times before stopping, and started walking in that direction. Madeline dutifully followed.


They walked for an hour in silence until Aliya finally got fed up with the bleariness of it and stopped at the base of a tall tree. She pointed up, and set her things down at its base. Madeline followed suit, and took the first few branches herself—her being a touch heavier than Aliya made it better for her to find the stronger branches. Aliya’s landsickness vanished once she got onto the swaying branches, and she sighed in relief. Madeline sat a few branches below Aliya, who sat at the top of the tree and peered out at the landscape.

She scanned the horizon, and both she and Madeline happened on a small village at the same time. When Aliya looked down, she and Madeline locked eyes.

“Our luck’s holding out, it seems!” Aliya chimed.

“Always, Captain,” Madeline agreed, and she slid off her branch to climb down to the next one.

Aliya’s climb was faster than Madeline, and she eventually caught up to her first mate. They looked at each other when she passed, and then Aliya heard the faintest thwick sound. A moment later, a war arrow tore through the branches and caught Madeline in the arm. Her eyes widened first in surprise, and then shut in pain. Her grip on the branches faltered, and she began to slip.

More thwick sounds.

Aliya let go of her branch and fell twice her height to the next one. Madeline did the same, but landed stomach-first onto a thicker branch. Aliya could hear her breath get knocked out of her just before the arrows struck the branches they had been in. She frantically looked around for where the arrows had come from, but had no idea where the shooters were. At the very least, they had reentered the canopy and would be much harder to hit.

“Y’alright!?” she yelled at Madeline.

“This’ll kill me by blood loss… provided we even make it to the damned ground…!” Madeline grimaced as she tried to move. The blood streaming down from her wound came out furiously, and Aliya knew that she would have only a few minutes to get her heart rate down and put something on the wound to staunch the flow.

The last few branches were torturous, and Aliya dropped to the ground well before Madeline did. A stray arrow occasionally landed in the higher branches, and Aliya’s heart skipped a beat as one of them landed a hand’s length from Madeline’s form.

“Just fall out the ruddy tree!” Aliya called up, and she scrambled into a spotting stance. “I’ll catch you, or you’ll die quicker!”

“Captain, I would really love to make it back to the Leone alive! You better catch me!” Madeline replied.

A moment after that, Madeline fell back and off of her branch. Aliya stumbled back and forth trying to find the best place to catch her, and was both relieved and astounded when Madeline fell square into her arms. Her sudden weight send Aliya to the ground, and Madeline cried out in pain when her arm slammed into the soil.

“I actually bloody caught ya…” Aliya groaned.

“You told me to jump and had no idea if you could catch me!?” Madeline complained angrily.

“You’re alive, aren’tcha? Can y’get to yer feet?”

Madeline struggled, and with her good arm she managed to stumble to her feet. Aliya rolled towards her things, grabbed them, and leapt up.

“Can y’walk by yourself? At least to the town?” Aliya asked.

Madeline shrugged slowly. “Got no idea what’s left in me, Captain. The lightheadedness is setting in, and the cold is too.”

Aliya slapped her forehead. “Bleedin’ fucking flies; that’s right! Hold still while I tie off the damned wound!” she said, and she hurriedly produced her blanket from her rucksack. She tore a long strip of it off, and tightly tied off the flesh before Madeline’s wound--not as tight as a tourniquet, but enough to slow her bleeding. “Can you hold the bottom of the shaft?”

“You’re going to use a voulge to chop off the rest of it?” Madeline said incredulously. “That’ll probably stir up the wound even more!”

“I can’t just saw it off! It’s the fastest way t’go!”

“Just leave it be! We don’t have time to deal with it!”

“Damnit!” Aliya hissed, and she ducked under Madeline’s arm and lifted her up. “I’ll take the weight off of your legs at the very least, then.”

Madeline made no complaint, so Aliya picked up her voulge in her free hand and started shuffling the two of them in the general direction of the village. Their pace was slow, and they had no idea if their assailants were watching, but she was going to be damned if she didn’t at least try to save Madeline’s life.

“Captain,” Madeline wheezed as they picked up speed, “Permission to be honest with you?”

“Don’t you dare say anything sappy at a time like this,” Aliya barked, “You just said that you'd love to get back to the Leone! You’re making it out of here, and you’re going to be my first mate for the rest of our ruddy lives!”

Despite her wounds, Madeline laughed. A bright, genuine laugh; one that Aliya didn’t usually hear from her serious first mate.

“If I die, what I was going to say will go to the grave, Captain.”

“Shut it! I’m not dying here, and you’re certainly not!”

Madeline laughed again, and Aliya felt a slight tinge of dread. She hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time she heard it.

[Nariata]

Act 1: Part II-Entering the village

"Ah, Gyrid. I am, knowing how to sneak ahead? I can go not seen by anyone. This is good, yes? Should I go?"

It took Gyrid a few seconds, as a puzzled look fell over face, before she realized what the Sunset Islander named Kat was trying to ask her. While the confused look initially turned to a more surprised one, as Gyrid knew the Glamhoth language was considered to be a difficult language to pick up because of its complicated grammar and unique sounds while this girl had learned as much in one week as some students do in a year, it quickly turned back to her trademarked commander look with eyes that pierced the soul and sent chills down the spines of those unfortunate enough to be caught by it. Her eyebrows raised up, forming a large arch above her eyes, and her lips curled downward. Gyrid looked Kat in the eyes with an intense stare.

“That would be most unwise of you.” She spoke in the common tongue as her head motioned ahead. “We do not know what we will find, and if the Mad King’s forces are already here than your sneaking will not do you or us much good.” Pausing as she dropped some of the judgment in that dominated her voice. “Though we may put those skills to use in the future.” Pausing as she let a faint, but every so there, smile creep over her face. “Keep practicing the language, you will get it right eventually. Even if it takes you ten years” She finished in the Glamhoth language before she tore her attention away from the girl and back to the village ahead.

“The girl shows promise, eh?” Hrossbjorn spoke in a neutral tone in his Glamhoth language as his eyes were locked on the fast approaching village.

“Indeed, have you seen anything ahead?” Gyrid responded.

“Nothing yet.” Hrossbjorn paused as his eyes turned towards the approaching storm. “I hope it remains that way.”

A bright flash of lightning in the distance, which came out from dark black clouds that accompanied it, revealed that the strength of the storm was strong. The effects this heavy rain and thunder could have on the moral of his men, and himself, would be catastrophic. Hrossbjorn knew this village was their best chance at ridding out the storm, and to regain strength for the coming weeks, and he let a thought distract him from their approach to the village as he eyed up a large, well-built house. “There is a chimney, so we can light a fire. Do the other houses have them as well?” He thought as his eyes scanned around the village, looking at the rooftops in particular. “Not all but a few around the center of the village do.” His eyes returned back in front of him and he began to scan the windows again. “If the village is clear, those houses will be where we set up camp.” He paused his thinking, before looking back at the storm. “If this village is not safe, and we have to run, I hope that mage from the Sunset Islands can do something about the storm.”

After a few minutes of the tense, slow, and tedious march up to the front of the village the large group finally crossed the boundary line and began to make its way to the center. Hrossbjorn turned his body around and spoke. “Alright everyone, check every window and every alley thoroughly.” Thuran spoke in the Glamhoth language and repeated it again in the common tongue while he motioned for the others to check every nook and cranny. “No point in us meeting the gods so early in our quest!” The group advanced slowly, with spears and shields greeting the faint shadows cast off the doors and houses as they approached the center of the village. Each house was met with the stares of various Glamhoth soldiers and the other survivors until finally a voice was heard.

“Think I saw something.” A Glamhoth soldier near the middle of the group spoke as he had his eyes locked on a window.

“Hold!” Hrossbjorn spoke as he raised his free hand in a fist up to his head level. The unit stopped in an instant, and the soldiers raised their spears up in anticipation of an attack. Hrossbjorn moved quickly through the center of the group, though he often had to push some of the other survivors out of his way, before he found himself standing right behind the soldier. Hrossbjorn’s eyes locked on the window, before he turned his attention briefly to the soldier. “What did you see?” He asked in the common language.

“Thought I saw a face looking out from the window, it was there for a few seconds in the shadows and gone the next.” The Glamhoth soldier responded in the Glamhoth Language.

After a brief moment, as he was thinking on his next course of action, Hrossbjorn spoke. “Go, check it out Ardur, and take Thrain and Dulvid with you.” Motioning for the two soldiers on either side of Ardur to go with.

Thrain was a tall and young warrior, still learning the ropes of the well oiled Glamhoth machine like army. He was a fierce fighter on his own, but he was stubborn and often rubbed some soldiers the wrong way. Ardur was an older, shorter, yet more experienced soldier. His face showed the scars of his time fighting, with a deep and straight scar cutting through his milky white left eye. Hints of grey in his hair also helped signal his age. Dulvid was another veteran, though he was tall like Ardur. Each carried with them the confidence and the bravado of all the Glamhoth. The rest of the group fell silent with anticipation as the three Glamhoth soldiers, with their shields covering their bodies and their spears at the ready at their sides, began their approach. The small group was led in the front by Ardur, who was taking a slow and cautious approach as he left the safety of the big group. Each step took three seconds for Ardur, who preferred caution over rash decisions. After thirty seconds, Ardur found himself close enough to the house to open the door and check what was inside.

“Thrain, follow my lead and Dulvid, head to the window.” Ardur commanded and the other soldiers followed his command. Ardur placed his spear on the left side of the door, as it opened outward and to the right, while he braced himself on the left side of the doorway itself. Thrain stood ready near the doorway, and he cocked his spear back and readied himself for a strike. “Three, two,” Ardur paused as he looked back to Thrain once more and received a nod of approval, “one.” Ardur quickly pulled the door open into the street and moved out of the way, grabbing his spear in the process. Thrain quickly entered the house while Dulvid cocked his spear in a way that would allow him to throw it with ease as he quickly moved in front of the window. Ardur quickly moved and soon found himself inside with Thrain before the duo inside let loose an audible, yet somehow child like, scream.

“Dulvid?” Hrossbjorn asked as he moved from the rest of the group and closer to the house, his hand tightening around the shaft of the ax. His only response from Dulvid was a soft chuckle followed by him lowering his spear and turning around and making his way back to the group with a large smile on his face. “Well?” Hrossbjorn asked again.

“See for yourself.” Dulvid smirked as he reentered his spot on the line. Soon enough Thrain appeared in the doorway, he too chuckling with a large smile on his face. By now Hrossbjorn suspected something that was not sinister in nature was to blame for both the face seen in the window and the girlish scream heard within.

“Ardur, we are waiting.” Hrossbjorn asked as he waited impatiently.

Soon enough Ardur appeared in the doorway, his shield arm holding something small and fluffy. Hrossbjorn immediately recognized it and he too let out a small laugh. “A cat?” He asked in the common tongue. “You saw a common cat?”

“It looked like a monster when I first saw it.” Ardur responded in the Glamhoth language as he approached the group once again, the cat purring loudly. As he arrived back in his spot, he crouched down and let the cat walk free. The cat started to leisurely take a stroll through the ranks, rubbing his body against the legs of the soldiers while meowing for attention.

“And the scream we heard?” Gyrid asked from the front of the column in the common tongue. A large smirk had fallen over her face, and her question elicited a few well earned chuckles from around the group.

“It jumped at me.” Ardur finally responded. “Was very scary.”

A few laughs could be heard as Hrossbjorn made his way back to the front of the unit, and a few minutes later they were in the center of the village. Hrossbjorn ordered his men to search the nearby houses, and in turn the sounds of doors being kicked open with the quick shuffle of footsteps storming in and then out of the houses soon followed. After about five minutes of breaking into the houses, it was made clear that the village was clear of any and all signs of life, and for that matter the undead as well. After a few, audible, sighs filled the air as Hrossbjorn and his men began to feel a sense of relief wash over them, all attention turned towards Hrossbjorn who turned his attention back to the weather. The storm was closer now, with the thunder having more bass behind it and the lightning strikes more frequent. The idea of dry shelter was indeed a welcome luxury they might be able to afford.

“Hrossbjorn.” The lead scout interrupted him, before he moved to his side.

“What is it-” Pausing as he began to think hard, before a look of disappointment fell on his face. “What is your name once again, elf?” He finished as a small smirk developed on his face.

“Lason.” He responded with a sign. This was the third time he had to inform Hrossbjorn of his name since he was found after the battle. Lason supposed beggars couldn't be choosers, and he shrugged off the forgetful nature of Hrossbjorn. Lason himself was large for an elf, standing nearly six foot five on his own with a clear muscular build beneath his chain mail armor. Lason had his large, two meter in length, long bow in his hand and he used it to point to a nearby rooftop with what looked to be some shelter from the storm. The building itself seemed to be the old town hall, as it was larger than any other building in the vicinity and had what appeared to be an old style wooden scouting tower on top of it. The village, Lason guessed, was a common target for bandits and had erected the the tower to see them coming. From his position it looked sturdy enough to weather the storm as well as give him a bird eyes view on the village below and the country side around.

“With your permission sir, I would like to ascend the building and set up a lookout spot in that tower.” Lason spoke quickly and deliberately.

“Permission granted, Lason.” Hrossbjorn spoke with authority.

The scout simply nodded his head before he took off in the direction of the tower. Hrossbjorn turned his body and faced his remaining group of soldiers once again. “Glamhoth soldiers, set up a barricade around the center of the village. While it appears we are clear, we are taking no chances.” He spoke in his native Glamhoth tongue. He used his free hand, he pointed out the village stalls, used to sell food or wares, as well as the heavy but durable carts that were usually pulled by horses. “Set those up on the four main roads that come into this village center. I want the normal guard rotation set up, and if you are not on duty get some rest inside the houses. We will stay for a day at most, maybe a while longer if this storm does not let up enough. Ardur, you are with Gyrid and I.” Pausing as he turned his attention to those who were not his soldiers by default. “Help where you can, but don't wander off.” He spoke in the common tongue.

“Hrossbjorn, the town hall would be useful for us.” She spoke as she motioned for him to follow. “Our maps of this area is limited, and we may yet find some inside.” Hrossbjorn nodded in approval and the two quickly made their way inside the building and began their search for any useful information while Ardur set up at the door. The rest of their soldiers began to move both the stalls and the heavy carts into a defensive position, though they showed signs of struggling with the weight.

Up above the Elf scout named Lason had already begun to set up his perch, laying his two quivers of arrows, one quiver filled with enchanted arrows while the other was standard three foot broadhead tipped arrows. He was about to rest his bow down before something caught his eye to the south of the village. He moved quickly out of the shadows of the guard tower and cupped his hands and placed them over his eyes.

“What in the-” Lason spoke as he pulled his hands away from his forehead and quickly made his way back to the guard tower. He quickly strapped the quiver filled with the broadhead arrows to his back while the enchanted arrows got strapped in around his waist. He grabbed his bow and made his way to the side of the tower. He spotted a Glamhoth soldier nearby. “Hey.” Lason shouted. “Yes you!” He shouted again as the Glamhoth soldier as he was in the process of pointing his right pointer finger at his chest. “Get Hrossbjorn, two people just emerged from the woods outside the village.”

“Stovah dor? Un commen lugge buh shuohar.” He spoke as he pointed his hand again to his ears before moving them side to side, indicating his lack of understanding of the common language.

“Hrossbjorn.” Lason shouted as he pointed two of his fingers to his eyes, before then pointing behind him to the south. The Glamhoth soldier still did not understand, but he must have realized that Hrossbjorn was being called as he quickly entered the building, and after a few seconds emerged with Hrossbjorn and Gyrid.

“What did you see?” Hrossbjorn asked.

“Two people just emerged from the tree line.” Pausing as he pointed back in the direction that they were coming from.

“Villagers?” Hrossbjorn asked.

“I can not say.” Lason spoke. “Permission to head out and intercept them.”

“Granted.” Hrossbjorn spoke. “Take the Sunset Islander, the Va'Sha mage, and Ardur here will lead you all.”

“Ardur will stay with you. He can't speak the common tongue” Gyrid interrupted. “I will lead them out.”

“Gyrid will lead you out I guess.” Hrossbjorn quipped.

Gyrid nodded her head and quickly moved away from the house. With a look of disdain upon her face she began to make her way back to the center of the village, starting the process of locating her mages. Lason found his way down from the top of the building and followed Gyrid. After a few minutes, Gyrid had gathered the two mages and informed them of the situation. The small group made it's way out of the village and into the open field surrounding it. Soon enough the forms of the two adventures came into view, and Gyrid noticed one appeared to be injured.

“Let's hurry.” Gyrid spoke.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
At the outskirts of the forest

In the forest, near it's edge, the forms of some thirty shamblers began to take shape as they crossed out of the woods and into the open. The common theme among them was their spears, which they held with both their hands and pointed directly in front of them as they began to charge. Their pace was slow when compared to the living, but it is still fast enough to catch Aliya at her current pace before the help arrived. A few archers also emerged from the forest and began to fire their war bows at the Aliya and her friend. The archers would miss with their first volley but eventually they would get their aim right and land a strike home. Finally, a human mage emerged from the forest, though his features bore the dark curse of the black magic used by the Mad King. Where blood vessels used to run black streaks now covered the sunken, and worn, face of the cultist. His eyes were as black as the clouds in the approaching storm and a sinister, blood curling smile covered his face. He stood six feet tall with a staff that towered another half a foot over his head, while having a golden hue and intricate carvings that ran the entire length of the staff. The tattered, and blood soaked robes were the only thing that seemed remotely normal about him.

“More subjects..” He hissed as a small laugh began to take control over his body.

[Dulcet]

Aliya’s muscles ached by the time she got the first glimpse of the village—though it was more a clearing on the village’s edge rather than any buildings to speak of. Despite many trees being neatly manicured and pollarded, they were still a bit too thick for her to see through properly. She ignored that and redoubled her efforts. She stood straighter, and she hoisted Madeline up further. Had her companion been anyone else, she probably would have just let them stumble along behind her. Aliya thought that it would have been kinder to herself if she had just done that with Madeline as well.

It may have been her mind playing tricks on her, but she felt as if Madeline was growing colder. Her breathing had certainly gotten more ragged, and Aliya could see the struggle she went through to keep her eyes focused. Every now and again they would glass over, and heat would rise in Aliya’s chest. Whenever she saw it, she’d push herself harder and carry Madeline more. At first she had been supporting Madeline. Now, Madeline’s feet nearly left the ground.

“Madeline? You still with me?” Aliya grunted. When Madeline didn’t immediately reply, Aliya rubbed their cheeks together. It was faster than having to move her hand.

Madeline perked up at that, but then she swooned and relaxed. “I’m still with you, Captain… Good to see that you’re still with me...”

Aliya didn’t reply; in fear that if she did, Madeline would keep wasting what precious energy she had left on replying. Instead, she sped them up as they broke into the outskirts proper, where the pollarded trees formed neat rows and slowly transitioned into coppiced ones.

That lasted for a short while until Aliya stepped out into a long open field separating the village from the trees. She hoped that someone would notice her and Madeline.

As the two of them started their walk, Madeline seemed to slowly come back to her senses. Her head tilted upwards slightly, and Aliya felt her tense.

“Something the matt-“

“Archer… looks like an elf…” Madeline breathed.

Aliya tried to follow Madeline’s gaze, and looked at the top of what looked like a watch tower. True enough, a lightly-armoured tree of a man hung over its side, and he seemed to be calling down to someone. Aliya didn’t like that he was holding his weapon.

She turned to Madeline. “What do you think?”

“Look… down… there’s a bunch of soldiers,” Madeline replied weakly.

It was a wonder Aliya had missed them. A large group of them seemed to be working at moving the merchants’ stalls to barricade the village, and Aliya paled. She noted that not a single villager was present among them, and she began to draw conclusions.

“Wait… That gear... They look like the bloody Glamhoth, don’t they?” she breathed lowly. Madeline nodded against her shoulder. “Most of them look like regulars, but there are a bunch of others with them. That must mean…”

“Raiders,” Madeline said firmly. Aliya’s legs nearly gave out.

Aliya watched as the archer that was in the tower disappeared; probably running down to report that he had seen someone.

“Of all the bloody times for those damned savages to go and raid a village, now was when they chose to do it?” she said despairingly. “We need to turn around. How’s your bleeding?”

“Not too… too bad. It’s slowed down for the most part; thanks to you.”

“You think you’ll last if we head back into the forest and just get a place for you to rest?” Aliya suggested, and she shifted Madeline’s weight on her shoulder in case she needed to start running. “Once we’ve got you somewhere safe, I can loop around and eavesdrop around the village to figure out where the river is.”

Madeline pondered for a second. “With a spot of luck, I should last for a while longer if I don’t bleed out. Infection’s likely given we haven’t even cleaned it, and if we leave the arrow in there for much longer while we’re moving around it’ll probably permanently disable my arm even if we get to safety. If we manage to get everything in order… I probably have two, three days left in me before I’m incapacitated.”

“We’re turning around then; hold on…” Aliya trailed off as she idly turned around. “Oh… no…”

“What is it…?” Madeline asked. Aliya’s fear was palpable, and Madeline was easily affected by it. Her voice wavered. “Is there something wrong?”

Aliya shook her head slowly; not to disagree with Madeline, but at the despair that crept into her. In front of her she saw a crew of raiders that seemed to be moving past attacking a village, and on to its rape and pillage. Behind her, a small horde of the pale soldiers that had attacked them earlier were only a short distance away. Their front line was messy-but-definite, and made up of a group of ghastly spearmen with their weapons up and at the ready. The surprise of seeing they were right behind them before even hearing their approach made Aliya scream in surprise.

“When did they get so close…!?” Aliya croaked, and she gripped Madeline’s arm tightly. She began to nearly drag Madeline forward with how fast she was walking. “I thought we had gotten away from these things!”

Madeline quaked on Aliya’s shoulders. Aliya slowed down and turned to face her, and saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

“Damn it all…” Madeline whispered. “Damn all of this.”

“Madeline?”

Madeline put her head to Aliya’s chest and let out a short, pained sigh. She took a deep breath, and then looked Aliya in the eyes.

“Leave me here and run,” she said. Aliya thought she was trying to be confident, but she heard the shaking in Madeline’s voice. “Leave the shaft of your voulge with me. A-at the very least, I can trip one of the damn things up. If those raiders start shooting at them, even better—I can buy you more time.”

“To hell with saving her energy—if she wants to say that to me, I’ll set her straight,” Aliya thought. She looked at her with both confusion and pain on her face. “What are you saying?”

“I’m dead already, Cap—no, Aliya—you can see that,” Madeline explained while gesturing to the arrow in her arm with her head. “That damned thing isn’t fatal—it's far from if I took a hit to my chest or thigh—but there’s no way—“

“Stop. Stop, stop, stop. Just stop,” Aliya growled. Madeline’s mouth closed in a terse line. “I already said that you’d be my first mate for the rest of your life.”

“Aliya, please…” Madeline said sadly. “We don’t have time for this. Look,” Madeline jutted her chin towards the village, “They’re already running out here with their weapons drawn. Once arrows start flying…”

Aliya dropped Madeline, but made sure she wouldn’t land on her wound. Aliya dropped her voulge onto Madeline’s chest, and gave her a grave look.

“Are you agreeing with me now?” Madeline asked. Though there was some smugness in her voice, she sounded as if she had been betrayed at the same time.

She leveled a steely gaze at Aliya. Aliya’s stern silence was all she got back.

Madeline seemed to resign herself to her fate. “I see…” she said slowly. “I’ll gladly lay down my life here for you, Aliya. I always—“

“Mutineers have to get punished,” Aliya interrupted. With a slow, measured movement, Aliya lifted Madeline bridal-style. She groaned under the exertion on her already-tired muscles, and began panting immediately when she started slowly walking.

“W-what are you doing?” Madeline asked as she barely recovered from fumbling Aliya’s voulge.

Aliya smirked. “This is your punishment for not listening to me when I told you to shut it.”

“Punishment?” Madeline said incredulously.

“Oh yes,” Aliya nodded. “We’ll discuss the details later, but for now I need you alive so I can properly make an example of you to our crew.”

Madeline struggled against Aliya. “This isn’t the time for stupid charades and bravado! I already know you and what you can do! I know what you have done!” she shouted. Her words came out between large breaths, and she quickly tired herself as she spoke. “This is beyond stupid; we’re stopped between raiders with bows and whatever in blazes that group of monsters is! We’re here chatting—and I’d say you’re going past that and filling the shoes of some fictional "dashing" captain and flirting!”

Aliya started, but Madeline shushed her.

“You don’t need to take on some sort of character. You’re already one to your crew, and that character is good! We’ve known each other since we were young, and I’ve been your first mate for almost a decade now! I’ve seen you experiment with all those different characters—some worse than others! Now that the odds are that I’m going to bite it, please—for all that’s good in this world—please be as you are with me. I don’t want my last moments to be bitter.”

Again, Aliya was interrupted when several arrows began to fall around them. They fell wide, though a few of them landed a respectably short distance away.

“Maybe the one that shot you is in there,” Aliya suggested, and Madeline’s surprise at the sudden change in subject was evident on her face. “You think if I get you to safety I can repay the favor?”

“You what?” Madeline sputtered before Aliya began a labored jog towards the village. “What are you doing!?”

“I reckon they’d be happier if they had one more body to bash those things with!”

“They’re raiders!” Madeline argued.

“They’ll take coin just like anyone else if that’s the case,” Aliya smiled.

Madeline guffawed. “You’d trust leaving me to them?”

Aliya's face was less than happy. “Oh, I’ll make sure if they really want to kill us they’ll have to take me out first. If they pretend to accept, and while I’m gone they do anything to you—kill you, rape you, use you as live bait for whatever these things are, whatever—I will find them, and spend a fortune on making sure I end them rightly.”

She got no reply for a while, and the arrows continued to fall just short of them. Aliya tried to maintain her composure, but knew that she was beginning to panic. She focused on the village.

“How do you make sure they know that?”

“I’m sure one of them has to have heard of us before, or at least the Leone and her fleet,” Aliya’s smile twisted slightly. “I’m sure that if they know of the fleet, they’ll know how I got if after Father butchered that mercenary guild.”

“And if not…?”

“Well, we’ll take care of it when we get there,” Aliya said half-heartedly. The other half of her silently panicked at the thought of being killed or enslaved by a group of Glamhoth. “As it stands, we can at least trust that there’s a chance that they’ll be more welcoming than expected.”

“You think that those monsters out there can be any less welcoming to the Lavas than the Glamhoth are?”

“I can trust the Glamhoth are human, at the very least,” Aliya said, and she stepped out of the way of an arrow unwittingly. “That was too close…”

She looked back and saw that the group of spearmen were still slowly walking towards them. There was a faint…cackling in the air. Aliya wondered if it was just her thoughts getting ahead of her.

“Your breathing is getting incredibly heavy,” Madeline commented, “You can’t keep this up.”

“Like hell I can’t keep this up,” Aliya spat. “I’ll collapse before I put you down.”

Aliya looked up at the gathering group of soldiers. She took a deep breath, and shouted as loudly as she could, “If you bloody lot could hurry up and get yourselves out here, it would be greatly appreciated!”

Madeline’s eyes widened. “You can’t just go swinging bravado around like that—what did I just tell—“

Her complaining was cut off by a string of dry coughs.

“I’m waking the damn fools up is what I’m doing,” Aliya said lowly. “I’d bet seeing a group of… whatever these things are… is enough to paralyze most regulars—what more a bunch of brigands?”

Her legs screamed for the sweet release of stillness. “Not until we’re dead,” Aliya thought. She grit her teeth and pushed herself harder. She needed to hit her stride. She needed to get Madeline to safety. She needed to survive.

She kept her eyes locked firmly on the soldiers. As much as she hated it, it was their move.

[Sypherkhode822]

Kat

“Keep practicing the language, you will get it right eventually. Even if it takes you ten years”

Kat felt her cheeks flush as she was dismissed by the barbarian. Kat trudged on in silence behind Gyrid, mulling over what the Glamhoth had said to her. Her offer for assistance had been dismissed by the warrior, and then the backhanded compliment from her over using that Harmony-Wrecking language stung.

Kat tried to whistle herself a heat spell, but the gashing wind had numbed her face too much for her to form the proper notes.

I could be home right now with Arlo, drinking kava and watching the sundiil birds migrate across the night sky right now. Kat shivered at the thought, feeling a knot of homesickness in her throat.

"Katerina, daughter of the World

Lover of knowledge and beauty, protector of Harmony

You went to this land on a great ship, sails unfurled

Your presence here is vital to see these people free

For this you left our beloved home to go beyond the sea

If you are to keep this land from turning to ruins and wild

Tolerate the slight of strangers mistaking you as a child."

The psychopomp croaked into Kats ear, flexing his claws into the padding of Kat's jacket.


"And for now I must bid you my leave

I am ascertaining who shall next grieve.

And at that, Samedi lifted away from Kat, causing her to wince as the crow began to flap his wings, lifting away into the darkening sky. He then began a lazy, easy flight across the village, towards the open field between the town and the forest.

Kat watched the psychopomp fly away, wondering at the motives such a being would have. Before she had boarded the Lavasian vessel, Arlo had brought her Samedi, who had agreed to join Kat. All Arlo had said on the matter was that he had had known Samedi for years, and that the crow had a vested interest in restoring the Harmony to the mainland.

Kat let out a sigh, letting out a silent prayer that her mentor and friend was safe and warm tonight.

As Kat began to move again, huddled in between the bristling spears, she figured she would be better off saying the same prayer for herself.

--------

Entering the village, Kat stayed in the rear as the Glamhoth soldiers worked their way through the village. Ever since that Harmony-Blasted Dragon had appeared, Kat's sense of rightness on this whole damn continent had been torn apart, leaving it difficult to truly sense any disruptions unless she was right on top of it. Which meant that Kat couldn't safely say if the town held an ambush, or if it was just the ambient terror and wrongness that filled the air here.

When she heard the scream, Kat had summoned her magics to her, readying herself for a fight. (If she needed to, she could pull energy from the storm, or force it here early and then direct a lighting bolt into whatever monster had appeared, she could use the runes already carved into her staff as a ward, and then bolster the soldiers attacking, hell, she could decide that this was an appropriate disruption of the Harmony, and force an earthquake to happen here....) But when she heard the laughter and the Glamhoth word for 'cat' she relaxed, letting go the energies she had summoned up.

Harmony, I've become so jumpy. What will I be like after this is over? Will this ever be over? How am I going to get home? Am I needed at home? The World has plenty of Purifiers and mages, and as far as I know, I'm the only Purifier in this country. I'll help these people reach safety, and then I'll go back south, and try and find a way to go to the World, bringing back more mages to defend this place.

Once it became clear that there was no serious threat, Kat had sat down on a door sill, feeling and learning the edges of the coming storm, trying to figure out how to turn it.

She must have been lost in this process for a significantly longer time than she thought, because when a Glamhoth prodded her, the sky was darker than it had been before.

"Gyrid want's you. Go to her there." Looking to where the grimy finger pointed, Kat saw the barbarian readying her weapons while talking to another Glamhoth warrior. They were looking out along the field.

Kat jogged over to them, speaking in the significantly easier Mainland Common, "What's happening, Gyrid?"

-------

And high above all, unseen, a being circled, it's form extending far beyond this planet, pressed into the shape of a crow. It saw the power-mad necromancer cackling, leading on his legions of undead soldiers. The two women stumbling out of the forest, fearful and driven by exhaustion. It shook it's head. It didn't know what would happen, but it could guess.

Samedi croaked, and continued to wheel above, a portent of death.