[IC] The Plague Knight Chronicles: Chapter 1

[LordOfTheNight]

Map of Kenfort

[LordOfTheNight]

---

Pap pap pap pap pap pap....

Shlock shlock shlock shlock....

These were the sounds that Lord Barret heard as he rode alongside the refugees of what was once the small village of Dornwich, his breath fogging as the cool air nipped at his skin and as the rain came down on this, a cold and dreary Saturday morning. The old raven and his apprentice, the young Lua; had manage to track the plague to the small village of Dornwich were they found that their enemy had already begun overtaking the village, slaughtering what innocents came across their tainted path. They had killed all those who had become afflicted with the curse and made damned sure that they wouldn't rise again to take revenge. Even though the old raven knew that they were truly dead, he still had nightmares that they would return from the Earth to rend the flesh of the living.

A young girl, perhaps 7 or 8, looked up at the older man as she walked beside her father. The man rode a massive black steed he'd called "Daredevil". He wore a set of black armor that appeared to be a combination of chain mail and leather, light but strong. Across his right shoulder was a black wool cloak that bore an insignia she didn't recognize; 3 crows with their wings spread forming a circle on a red field. Across his back was a longsword that her father could have forged, on his left hip a mean looking hatchet still stained with blood. Beneath the cloak, the older man had a strange looking crossbow with a quiver of bolts strapped to his thigh in a leather pouch. The man had a strange silver bottle that hung around his neck and looked no longer than her hand. The woman had a similar bottle that hung from her neck as well. What was in the bottle she wondered. Wine? No. Water? Unlikely. Perhaps it was a magic potion. When the man glanced at her, she looked away towards the city of Kenfort.

Barret glanced back up to the road and could see Kenfort was less than 15 minutes away. He breathed a heavy sigh as his breath fogged up once more. He felt weary and troubled as he glanced to the pair of ravens that followed them above. Something was eating at the old raven as the walls were beginning to grow in size as they approached. The man had been alive for a long time and had come to learn that trusting his gut was always a wise decision. However, his intuition told him now that Kenfort was perhaps not such a wise idea. There was a heaviness to the air, like the air was constipated but would ease up once it had a good storm. He couldn't quite understand why he felt uneasy but these people were now homeless and at the mercy of the elements and the plague itself. As they approached, a dog barked and howled in the distance. Not normal barking, angry barking. As though it smelled a predator nearby. His attention however was brought to the gates ahead and a set of guardsmen armed with spears.

Lucian glanced to Lua and motioned for her to follow him to the front of the refugees. He gave Daredevil a light kick to pick up the pace as he rode ahead of the group to meet with the guards. The leader raised his hand and approached.

"Oy! That's far enough. What business you have coming to Kenfort?" he asked. Lucian eyed the guards with their spears but spoke plainly.

"We're escorting these refugees from Dornwich. The village was attacked and they need asylum. Open the gates and let them in" the old raven said. The man raised an eyebrow as he was ordered by the older man.

"Oh really? On whose authority?" he asked. Lucian scowled.

"Mine. Open the gate. Now" he said with a growl. His mood was not to be tested and he didn't have any wish of killing guardsmen that were simply doing their job. The man glanced at the refugees, noticing the little girl and feeling his expression lighten a bit. He had a little girl of his own back home and they looked harmless. He glanced back to his men and nodded as the gates raised. Lucian breathed a sigh of relief and motioned to the refugees to go ahead. "Go to the church, the priests will find you all a place to stay" he said in a raised tone. There were scattered nods among the refugees as they crossed the wall's threshold. Lucian watched as they all went through and glanced to the soldier.

"Has there been any violent acts of note committed recently?" he asked. The soldier scowled slightly and nodded, explaining that a man was recently hung and buried for dismembering his wife and daughters with a wood ax. Lucian frowned and nodded. "Thank you" he said as he rode through the gate himself. He looked to Lua and sighed. "I think the Cursed have made a presence in the city. The animals seem to be on edge and agitated. The story about that man doesn't make me feel any less suspicious either. I propose we investigate lest we have to deal with a city of Cursed" he commented.

[Rosenrot]

The stenches of rot and ruin were not as bad as the reek of cities, Lua had come to know, and Kenfort would apparently be no different. The smell grew with the morning light and the persistent drizzle did nothing to ease the mounting stench. As they neared Kenfort, Lua noticed that the stagnant air was increasingly saturated with something more perturbing than just the smell of shit, something rain couldn't wash away. She groaned.

Apprehension tingled in her hands and feet, working its way up her limbs. Lua shifted in her saddle and her chainmail tunic rattled. Around her waist, there was a thick black belt with two curved short-swords attached. She rolled her right shoulder to adjust the pauldron resting there. The unfamiliar weight of new armor was always uncomfortable for a while. A red and black crest skillfully painted on the rounded metal was already marred with a fresh scratch. The mismatched piece covering her opposite shoulder was heavily scuffed and dented; cracked leather straps barely held it in place. It needed to be repaired or replaced, but refugees were poor employers and a Raven Lord's purse was perpetually light.

Lua brushed dampened hairs from her face with a black-gloved hand. A scrap of leather held most of her dark hair back, but the shoulder-length strands were quickly coming loose. A single glance at the refugees walking beside her, vulnerable in only their ragged clothes, reminded Lua how fortunate she was to be so uncomfortably well-armored. The survivor's faces were the most difficult for her to look at, though. They were dirtied, bloodied, and expressionless as they slogged through the mud while the Raven Lords shepherded them towards safer pastures. Their blank stares, aimed not quite at the ground, not quite at the sky, told her that they were reliving the horrors they'd just escaped. Not nearly enough time had passed for Lua since she'd been so much like them and her own features soon took on the same slack expression. One hand left the reins and her fingers repeatedly stroked the tanned scar running along her hairline. In her mind's eye, distorted images were taking shape.

Fire, metal, screams, fire, metal-

A sudden bark snapped the young woman from her unpleasant memories. Her hand quickly returned to the reins. The dog's noises seemed muted, stifled by the weight of the air, but still the animal's aggression was unmistakable, an early harbinger of the Curse. Leather creaked against leather as her hands tightened anxiously around the reins. Whatever peace the survivors hoped to find here would undoubtedly be short-lived. Ahead of her, Lord Barrett looked over his shoulder at her and gave a slight nod towards the front of the group. Lua's boot-heels dug into her mount's ribs and the unremarkable beast quickened its pace. The swords hanging from her belt bounced in time with each trotted stride. The old raven pulled ahead of the refugees and she was close behind.

Just before they reached the gate, she pulled up the red cloth encircling her neck, covering her mouth and nose against the stench now burning her nostrils. Behind her mask, she smirked at the exchange between Lucian and the guards. Her mouth was hidden, but the glint in her dark eyes betrayed her amusement. Few argued with Lord Barrett, and none for long. There was some fun to be had, though, in guessing whether those who tried would survive the quarrel. The Kenfort men were smarter than they looked, though, and quickly acquiesced. Lua felt a pang of disappointment.

Through the opened gates, the church's pointed steeple made a towering silhouette over the nearby buildings and the refugees shuffled towards it, following the old Raven's instructions. The news relayed to Lucian by the Kenfort guard caused Lua's jaw to clench. She listened to her mentor's thoughts on their next step while they followed the survivors towards the church. She considered his suggestion carefully. Everything was a test with the old raven, and failure was not taken lightly. Lua did not want to spend the next leg of their journey penitently jogging behind her own horse, again.

“Agreed.” She answered loudly, trying to be heard above the urban cacophony. “First, we need to find where they buried him, see if he's risen yet. At least we don't have to worry about the family, since he already chopped 'em up for us.” She said in an unaffected tone. Her dark eyes scanned passersby, looking for signs of the Cursed. The citizens of Kenfort would likely pay no mind to someone muttering to themselves or picking furiously at a scab, and that was exactly how the Curse spread with such horrific ease.

[shylarah]

Shiara Cazarin, bone mage

Shiara joined the group of refugees as they made their tired way into town. She was a stranger, and while brown skin like hers wasn't unknown in the towns it wasn't particularly common. Better not to have to explain herself, she figured, clicking to her donkey on his lead as they matched their pace to the last stragglers through the gate. Her hair was tied back, making a poofy ponytail nearly as big as her head. The girl had long ago foregone her usual adornments of braided beads and bones. She wasn't in the islands, and the clatter of them in her hair marked her as foreign far more than the color of her skin. Her necklaces and bracelets held her powers easily enough, and were acceptable in the eyes of the mainland folk -- odd, but not so odd as to be frightening.

Her face was unremarkable -- a wide nose above full lips and a strong chin. Her clothing was faded with wear and road dust, but the colors held well enough in the patterned hem of her long tunic and the wrap at her waist. She wore loose pants beneath, and a wide baldric with many pouches to match the belt of pouches and satchel half-concealed by her wrap. Over all of it she wore a cloak with the hood pulled up against the weather. The rest of her belongings were in her donkey's bags, and she seemed unarmed aside from the knife in her belt, though she had the appearance of one who had little to offer potential thieves. The simple worn tin of her few pieces of metal jewelry said as much.

She lifted dark eyes to the sky, watching the pair of ravens wheeling overhead, remembering the vision that had started her on her way. Shiara could feel Kem's presence like a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she lifted her free hand to touch the lump of her necklace beneath her tunic. The other attendant spirits whispered softly, but had nothing of substance to contribute.

Just ahead of her were two people that looked more like warriors than farmers or townsfolk. She wondered at them, and the faint smell of death they carried. Plague Knights, she thought to herself. Warriors, accompanied by ravens...could this be them? Even though she knew better than to stare, she let her pace slow just a bit as she passed the pair. She didn't look at them, but instead tuned her ears to pick out their voices. Something about a curse? She knew a little about curses, but mostly she worked with spirits.

[Overlord Thraka]

Mergoux walked down the road, mixed in with the hobbling crowd of muddy, bloody refugees. Try as she might, there was no way for her to fit in properly, not without donning a tattered old shawl, or a floppy hat, but she had no intention of trying to blend in. She wasn't going to draw attention to herself, but having as many warriors mixed in with the crowd was a good deterrent for trouble. Bandits could hit a caravan like this hard, but they'd be more cautious if they saw armored figures like her mixed in.

Indeed she was armored, wearing a mix of scale-mail and chain mail, with pauldrons, bracers and greaves of plate. Her armor was worn and scarred by many battles, but it still held strong after being repaired multiple times. Mergoux preferred to have her old gear repaired rather than replace it. Cheaper, and it's natural wear and tear made her look more down trodden, an easier target, just what she liked. Drawing them in with what looked like easy prey, only for her to turn into the predator.

Most of her weapons were slung over her back for easier carrying, the crossbow and massive two-handed blade, but at her hips she work a pair of matching knuckle-daggers, so large as almost to be called knuckle-shortswords. Judging by how worn the sheathes were, they'd seen their fair share of use.

Perhaps her most distinctive piece of equipment however was the helmet she wore on her head. It concealed most of her face and head, and was adorned with a pair of metal spikes that looked almost like horns. Long black hair cascaded down over her shoulders, a few braids mixed in with the damp mess that was a product of the miserable rain. Her most striking feature however were her arms, tattooed heavily with chains, which broke and turned into vines halfway up. Such work was a rarity in these parts, and one could just make out that the vines wrapped around a flower with 8 petals on her left shoulder, and 8 coins on her right. There was also a thin strip of runes under her lower lip, running down her chin.

As the tall, raven-haired warrior walked into the city, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of the place. It smelled of filth, but that was not the kind she'd come here for. No, she knew that with any great crisis, came an outpouring of refugees, and those refugees would flock to the nearest city. She'd seen it before with an earthquake a few decades prior, and now here it was again, though this time far more serious. The plague was tearing the very world apart it seemed, and if it couldn't be stopped, then there would be no more anything, no innocents to protect, or scum to butcher. That was her world, her only purpose now.

Rolling her shoulders, she spotted the two Raven Knights on their horses. She'd overheard their words with the Guard, and it wasn't hard to guess where they'd go. That was for the best that they headed to the graveyard, or wherever the bastard's body lay. It was a shame the law had gotten to him first, she wished she could have heard his screams as she made him pay properly for what he'd done...

Grimacing, she muttered to herself under her breath. Go on Black Bastards... I've got work to do... With that, she turned away and began working through the crowd, towards the place she knew she'd be able to get information from for a price, the nearest tavern. A drink, a promise of a bed later in the night, and a few words to point her in the right direction, and soon she'd find her prey.

[LordOfTheNight]

---

Lucian nodded as she mentioned going to the man's grave to ensure he hadn't risen yet. "Wise idea. There's a chance the man wasn't cursed but merely dealing with his turned family members. In either case, we need to be cautious" he commented as he urged Daredevil to move along the street. Lucian was vaguely familiar with Kenfort. He knew that from the gate they had entered, they would need to cross through both the Marketplace but the Craftsmen District. As he rode, the older man continued his thought. "We should perhaps investigate the man's home as well; assuming it is still standing of course. Perhaps we can find out how the curse managed to find it's way here and track it back to it's origin" he finished. Lucian was thankful for the hood as the rain continued to come down, though thankfully in more a light drizzle than an outright downpour. He glanced at the occasional passerby as they eyed them and watched them avert their eyes. He'd heard the rumors concerning both him and his fellow brothers and sisters.

'Plague Knights...' was the name he often heard from the lips of the weary. Rumor was they were the ones spreading the actual plague given that black knights with ravens as their coat of arms often appeared at the scene of infected areas. The truth was that they were merely hot on the heals of the plague itself, merely one step behind. Lucian had also heard the rumors that they had been slaughtering unarmed innocents in cold blood. That had some truth to it but those they slayed were most definitely not innocent. Their souls had been tainted by the curse and their lust for violence unslakable. They could drown in oceans of blood and still lust for more. Filthy monsters. Lucian rode silently as he rubbed the silver bottle that hung from his neck and found himself wondering what had occurred to create such wide spread outbreaks. In the past, it occurred rarely and erratically. Now it was spreading as though someone had thrown pitch on the people and lit a match. Hopefully one of their brothers would find an answer whilst they dealt with Kenfort. Lucian did hope to return to Rabenest soon.

The church itself was massive in size and older than most of the buildings surrounding it. As memory served, the church had been the first stone building erected when Kenfort had been merely a small fishing village. It had been built strong though, the doors thick enough to stop most assaults and still protect those inside. The cemetery itself was massive in size. If the old raven had to guess, there was perhaps 200 graves; perhaps even more. Lucian sighed as he dismounted his horse before the church and removed his hood as he approached the door, knocking on the heavy door. A bishop opened the door and nodded slightly with a smile.

"May I help you, my son?" he asked.

---

30 Minutes Later...

---

The bishop stared at Lucian as the old raven stood straight straight, arms behind his back. "You can't be serious. What you suggest is....it's lunacy" he said finally. The old raven wasn't just suggesting they dig up the grave of a murderer, he was out right telling the bishop that they needed to open the grave of the murderer.

"Do I seem to be a man who is not serious. We need to see the corpse. Immediately" he said. The bishop seemed downright dumbfounded. The older man breathed a heavy breath through his nose. "Father, I know what it sounds like. You are a man of God, your job is to lead your flock and given them strength. If I am wrong, than all we have done is disturbed the remains of a sinner and there will be a penance I must endure willingly. If I am right though father, then the Devil has very well come to your home and your people are in danger. I am begging you to allow my apprentice and I the opportunity to exhume the remains and be sure" the older man said. The bishop gave it some thought. He eventually sighed and rung a small bell to get the attention of one of his priests.

"Yes father?" the young priest asked. "Give these two each a shovel and show them to the grave of the man they hung recently" he said. The priest nodded and moved promptly as the bishop sighed wearily. "I pray you are wrong my son for the sake of your soul" he said.

"For the sake of your flock and this city, I pray I am wrong as well" he said before turning and motioning for Lua to follow. The priest met them at the door with the shovels in hand and handed them to the black knights as he instructed them where to look. Lucian nodded and walked silently through the graveyard, looking much like a reaper tending to the souls of the dead to any on lookers

[shylarah]

Shiara Cazarin, bone mage

Shiara pulled her cloak a little tighter against a cold gust of wind, and sought out the nearest inn. She was a stranger, a foreigner, and thus not quite trusted in these trying times, but her coin was as good as anyone's, and since she let it be known that she was a journeyman herbwoman she received a somewhat warmer welcome.

With a stableboy looking after her donkey and the largest of her bags up in her small room -- a matter of only a few minutes, since she truly needed little in the way of comforts -- Shiara asked directions to the nearest churchyard. It was easier than asking for the nearest graveyard, after all. There would be other places she needed to visit, places where many died, where they were murdered, where spirits lingered, but it would be hard to search them out with the rain causing disturbances on the spiritual plane. There was something deeply wrong with the city, something she could feel even through the cold mist, which made it powerful indeed.

The graveyard was large enough to accommodate the sizable town of Kenfort, the church probably one of the first buildings that indicated the village was becoming a town of some size and then added onto with additional wings in later years. It was beautiful, in its way, a sturdy hulk of a building that had weathered many years and was a testament to the story of the city. Shiara let herself in by way of the cemetary gate, wrought iron that should serve as a spiritual barrier as well as a physical one. But she felt barely anything as she walked through, proof that things were not as they should be.

Not many stray souls would be out in the rain, and sure enough the graveyard was quiet. But there was a sense of restlessness. The imprint of those buried there seemed to be waiting for something, though Shiara had no idea what. "I don't like this," she murmured softly, looking first at Kem, then Sorsha. She lifted her hands to feel the thin traces of energy in the air and frowned at them, only to abruptly realize she was no longer alone.

It was the two fighters from the gates, carrying -- shovels? The sight made her blood boil. Did they mean to desecrate the graves, on ground whose power was already weakened? "You mustn't!" she called, starting towards them. "Disturbing the rest of the dead is ill luck." For all her youth, Shiara spoke boldly, confident in her knowledge of the ways of the dead. Did the priest know, she wondered. Could she fetch him -- and if she did, would he have the nerve to stand up to the imposing pair? Kem's touch on her back was a reassuring tingle. If they challenged her, he would support her. The knowledge made her lift her chin and square her shoulders.

[Overlord Thraka]

As Mergoux made her way into the crowded tavern, she was aware of all the eyes upon her. She was a stranger, what's more she was a notable one. Her spiked helmet was obvious, but necessary. As she pushed her way to the bar, she saw a man get up and move towards her. She knew exactly what he was going for, but as soon as he 'accidentally' bumped into her, he cried out in pain. Instead of a handful of coins or a ring or whatever else the pickpocket was going for, all he received for his troubles were several broken fingers. He yanked himself away from Mergoux and swiftly burst out through the Inn's door, all eyes now on the warrior.

If any of you other pricks want a go, let's get it over with so I can have my drink. she snarled. Most of the patrons quickly turned back to their drink, the tall woman's cold stare driving off any who felt confident enough to approach her.

At last she reached the bar and ordered an ale and boarded a room for the night. "Money up front." said the barkeep firmly. And have you rent my room to someone else while keeping my money? Mergoux said while counting out coins from a small purse she carried on her hip. No, half now and half later. she said, pushing the coins across the bar to the barkeep. Grudgingly he accepted her proposal and counted out the money, only to pause in confusion. She'd overpaid, even accounting for the drink this was significantly more than half. "Ma'am you-" he began, only to be cut off. Shh. What can you tell me about the hanged man? she said, her voice lowering drastically to avoid what prying ears she could.

~Half an hour later

Mergoux stood in the gentle drizzle, watching with narrowed eyes as the dark-skinned, young woman approached the two Raven Knights. It appeared that the two were going to dig up the grave, examine the corpse. She'd been beaten to it and it pissed her off. Well, if there was no beating them, then perhaps she could at least listen in on their conversation. Moving closer slightly, she lingered withing earshot, pretending to be looking for a grave, not so much as offering the trio a glance, but keeping her ears out for trouble or information, whatever came first.

[Rosenrot]

Lua’s irreverence was poorly concealed inside the church. She made no effort to clean her boots before entering and left her face masked. She had been raised in the ways of the old gods she was named for, though her family’s practices were a well-kept secret. While Lucian explained their intent to the incredulous bishop, Lua stood silently with her arms crossed. She thought about the day another holy had come to the hamlet where she grew up. He’d come with shields of red and white for her father, and all the men, to carry.

-30 minutes later-

The bishop tried to deter them from their morbid endeavor with warnings of damnation. Lua failed to suppress a scoff. If they burned their dead to begin with, instead of burying them, this could’ve been avoided. Unsurprisingly, the bishop was easily persuaded and soon, she was following her mentor towards the hanged man’s grave.

A voice called out across the graveyard, another person telling them not to disturb the graves. Lua looked the woman over from afar. The stranger’s posture told Lua she wouldn’t be as easily swayed as the bishop. Somewhat further off, another figure was visible, though that one seemed content to watch and wait, for now.

“It appears we’ve attracted an audience as well as an interloper.” Lua grumbled to her mentor as she drove the shovel into the wet ground at her feet. Best to have both hands readied until they could better assess these strangers. Her eyes remained on the newcomers while her fingers drummed on the hilt of the sword hanging by her right hip. She was becoming irritated with others interfering in their business, wasting their time. Guards, priests, and now... Lua scowled over her mask. “Who are these people?” She thought aloud, then glanced upward to the ravens circling overhead.

One bird veered off, descending as it passed over the strangers, though it remained well above them all. Lua was still early in her apprenticeship and her ability to see through her raven’s eyes was unreliable, but good enough in this case. She could discern that neither newcomer was dressed like an average resident of Kenfort. The more distant one appeared to be heavily armored and that was concerning. News of a brawl amongst such an... eccentric group, in the cemetery no less, would spread quickly. Lucian had made her aware of the rumors already circulating about themselves and their fellow Raven Lords. At best, the resulting xenophobia would cripple their investigation. At worst, fear and paranoia could make the common people more susceptible to the curse and the whole city could begin to turn. “Time to make another friend, Lord Barrett?” She asked, jerking her head in the direction of the vocal stranger.

[LordOfTheNight]

---

Lucian stopped in his tracks at the sound of a woman's voice. A voice that had a slight accent he wasn't entirely familiar with. He turned slowly and looked at the woman, resting the shovel against his shoulder as she started towards them. The older man felt a twinge of annoyance as she told him that it was bad luck to disturb the dead. He then took notice of the interloper as well, a woman hanging at the edge but seemingly within earshot. He recognized the two women however. They'd been part of the group that came from Dornwich. He hadn't said anything as he had thought nothing of them, merely people looking for a place to go or travelers who saw the benefit of travelling with a group. Regardless, they had both followed them to the graveyard and that didn't seem like coincidence. No, they had come here for a reason.

"Who are these people?" Lua asked. Lucian stabbed the shovel into the earth and moved his cloak to show the loaded crossbow. "An excellent question, apprentice. Judging from this one's garb, I suspect she's a foreigner. Perhaps a mystic of some sort. The other seems to be a warrior. Perhaps a mercenary. In either case, they have been following us since Dornwich" Lucian said. When they seemed a bit surprised he'd noticed them, he continued.

"In regards to the dead, I do not fear corpses. I do however fear what the corpse we are looking for may have become and I suggest if you don't want a city infested with them, you stay out of our way and allow us to do our business. I don't have time to worry about you two getting hurt or worse, killed" he said as he grabbed the shovel and motioned for his apprentice to follow. He moved for the grave site and nodded. This was certainly it. Dirt was still freshly packed. That was a good sign but not a sure indicator that nothing had happened. Time for step 2.

Lucian stabbed the shovel into the wet dirt but rather then begin digging, he put his ear against the wood and closed his eyes. To an average peasant, this would probably raise an eyebrow. To someone who was clever or knew him like Lua, they'd see he was checking for vibrations in the ground. Lucian scowled and shook his head. "Nothing. Either the man was indeed fine or he hasn't turned yet. We need to exhume the corpse and be sure" he said as he sighed in annoyance. He was gonna have to get dirty now. He wasn't looking forward to digging up a dead man's grave anymore than Lua but they had a job to do, luck be damned...

[shylarah]

Shiara Cazarin, bone mage

"Not a mystic," Shiara corrected, thinking irritably of the sham fortunetellers that mazsde coin off of simple folk by pretending to be things they were not. Mention of another nearby made her look over her shoulder, and she ignored entirely the incorrect mention of a town she'd never been to. The older man's next words caught her attention. A corpse become something else? She went over the rumors in her mind, dead that didn't stay dead, rising to wreak havoc.

"A corpse buried on consecrated ground should be beyond medling," she said, though she didn't mean his this time. "But this place's power has weakened -- and by disturbing the dead you weaken it further. I have a duty to the dead, and to the living." As the man listened to his shovel, a strange act indeed, Shiara made her way towards him. The moment he was done she laid her own hand upon the handle and pulled it free, calling silently for Kem to support her. As Shiara stepped back, shovel in hand, her stance was no longer that of a simple traveller but the alert and ready pose of a fighter.

"There are many ways to catch a fish," she said. "Rather than disturb a properly-buried corpse, why don't you let me help? Or else explain exactly what you gain by troubling one that should be left lie."

[Overlord Thraka]

Mergoux narrowed her eyes slightly from where she stood. She'd been called out, apparently not as subtle as she'd have preferred. Well there was no point in pretending any further, it was obvious to her that the older Knight had seen past her ruse of visiting the dead. She lay a seemingly lazy hand on her belt, right next to where one of her overlarge knuckledaggers lay, then began her approach slowly, sizing up the two women and the man.

Of the three, the man seemed the most threatening, the most heavily armed and armored, though the younger Raven Knight was not to be ignored. The older man simply had experience, and to Mergoux that was potentially far more dangerous that youth. She was well aware her face would be unknown around here, but who knew how far these three had traveled? Surely there were a few wanted posters rotting in dingy taverns along the way...

As she joined them, hazel eyes watched each person carefully, settling finally on the young, darker skinned woman. "Help how girl?" she asked, her tone short, her accent vaguely Nordic. "What do you know of this plague?" she asked of Shiara, not so much as bothering with an introduction of herself. Mergoux had no use for such niceties, it was better to get to the point right away and deal with the problem then to waste time being polite and courteous. For the moment however, she at least offered a nod to the armored Knights, making it hopefully clear she preferred them over the indignant whelp, at least for the moment.

[shylarah]

Shiara took the new opposition in stride, though inside she trembled. The woman looked dangerous, and the scent of violence clung to her. "I am more than just an herbalist," she said. "I am a bone woman, a mage that deals in spirits and the dead." She considered mentioning the vision she'd had, but the personal nature of a journeyman's quest made her decide to omit it. "Rumors of unquiet dead have reached even the southern shores, and I seek their source. It's more than a matter of corpses alone." She looked from the newcomer to the older man. "If his spirit is not at rest, I can speak with it. If you give me a few minutes, I can tell you the state of his bones, without needing to dig them up. I know ways to keep the dead at bay, and how to lay them to rest if they have been raised. In short, this is as much my business as yours."

[Rosenrot]

Lua's eyebrows lifted as Shiara snatched up the old raven's shovel at the first opportunity. This dreary morning was proving to be more interesting, and irritating, than she'd expected. The armored stranger joined in the conversation without introducing herself, merely giving a nod towards the Raven Lords before posing questions to the impudent bone woman. Lua returned Mergoux's nod before looking to the mage.

“You want to have a chat with the Cursed? Be my guest. When he gives you one of these, you'll understand our business.” She said harshly and swept back the damp hair obscuring a wide scar along her forehead. The central, jagged mark was dotted along one side with tiny scars, showing where crude sutures had once reattached part of her scalp. As long as Shiara was holding one shovel hostage, the apprentice had twice the digging to do, so she set to work.

When she disturbed the surface, a bubble briefly appeared in the mud before popping. Decomposition gases? If the corpse was rotting normally, that was good news. Still, she should've been able to smell the rot, even through her mask. Another shovel-full, another bubble. That wasn't right. Lua had desecrated more than her share of graves, and that was too much gas. She pulled the mask from her face and sniffed.

That smell... Not rot, not shit, but...

Dust?

[Overlord Thraka]

Mergoux snorted in derision. Another spiritual fool. Mergoux held very little faith in the arcane, or even the gods, not really caring one way or another about them. It wasn't that she didn't believe in them, she just didn't care to obey a single one of their rules. She made her own way in life, and when death came she'd take what lot she was given, but fools like the one before her annoyed her. They thought themselves more in tune with the world than everyone else in her experience, they were often arrogant, usually pretentious and never likable.

Obviously you've not met one yet. Your words will do nothing. No talk can quiet them, only fire can stop them forever, even steel isn't always effective. she said firmly. You want to learn more? Then give the man his shovel and watch. she said, short and to the point as always. She had no time for wasting, actions spoke far better than any words especially when it came to the undead.

The woman then turned to glance at Lua, her mouth twitching downwards even further as the bladeswoman showed her scar. Mergoux herself bore a scar, half-concealed under her helmet, but the lower portion of her cheek that was visible bore a deep, marring scar on the left side of her face. It looked vaguely like something a claw might have made. Needless to say, she felt Lua's pain in more ways than one. Hm, you're lucky to be alive. Those wounds fester easily. she'd seen it before, a scratch, or bite from an undead festering within hours, the rot that infected their bodies making short work of their victim. Such wounds needed immediate cleansing to avoid serious ramifications.

As the apprentice began to shovel, Mergoux turned her attention to the dirt, watching it bubble oddly, that was far from normal. Her eyes narrowed as she lay a hand on the handle of her massive two-handed sword, slung over her back in a custom sheathe that allowed her to draw it easily in such a position. Something was amiss, and if indeed this corpse was about to spring from the earth, she fully intended to cleave it's skull in two before it was so much as half-way free.

[LordOfTheNight]

---

Lucian's hand went for his ax as she pulled his shovel from his hands. He growled low like a dog. "Rather then stand in my way, perhaps let me do my duty. If what stands between me stopping the cursed is you, than I will break my oath" he said. She was trying his patience a great deal as she urged him to allow her to help. The mercenary woman asked what she knew of this infection. How she could help. She then admitted that she was a bone mage seeking the source of these 'restless dead'. She spoke of speaking to the man's spirit and Barret pinched the bridge of his nose. He was growing more frustrated by the moment as she insisted there were other means. "What you are suggesting is impossible. His soul is gone. Forever. Consumed by the curse that had infected his family and the rest of the lands. You wish to stop this? Let us do our job" he growled in annoyance.

Lua spoke up and took her shovel with annoyance as she began to start digging. He gave her an annoyed look but she was doing what needed to be done. He took notice however of the bubbles forming from the soft dirt. He raised an eyebrow and approached. "Bubbles? That's peculiar" he commented, more to himself than the others. It wasn't decomposition from what he could smell. Dust was what he smelled. Lucian raised an eyebrow as the bubbling continued when she disturbed the surface. The ground seemed uneven. "Perhaps..." he began. It wasn't long till the realization began and by then it was too late. The ground opened up in an instant, sucking them down into a room below them. The dust hit him like a bag of bricks, mud coating his boots and armor. He growled in annoyance as he pinched the bride of his nose. "Goddess why? Goddess damn it all" he sighed.

Lucian picked himself up out of the dirt and offered Lua a hand. He then noticed the coffin that had come down with them. The old raven raised an eyebrow and approached to see that the coffin had flipped over to reveal a large hole in the bottom. Lucian's eyes widened as he realized just what had happened. The man was indeed one of the Cursed. He'd managed to break out of the bottom coffin and dug free. Then he realized where they'd landed. It was a catacomb. Corpses everywhere, skeletons on the walls. "Goddess damn it" he growled. He drew his ax immediately and looked about. "Lua, quickly use your wax. Fast" he hissed. Lucian reached into his pack and produced a brick of wax that was a dark pink hue. The wax was one of the greatest tools they had in their arsenal. A mixture of dog fat made into tallow, mushrooms found in the caves of Rabenest, and several drops of the black water they kept. It was deadly to the cursed.

"PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" a voice called out deeper inside the catacombs. A young voice that belonged to a scared child

[shylarah]

Shiara Cazarin, bone mage

"If what you seek is an answer to whether he is cursed, then my way would provide it, would it not?" Shiara retorted, when the old man suggested she was stopping him from doing his job. "I've met none of your 'cursed', but I've encountered other things, things stirred up by the imbalance and the breakdown of usual countermeasures."

She'd made her point, and was going to return the man's shovel since his partner had already broken the ground, but the dusty bubbles soon turned into an outright cave in, and the crumbling dirt and mud sent all four of them tumbling.

She landed in a painful heap a level below, and even before Shiara regained her feet she could feel the presence of countless graves. She was covered now in grime, but there were other things to worry about. The wail of a child -- and how had a child made its way down there? From inside the church, perhaps, or was it merely a lingering spirit that did not realize it was dead?

The light in the catacombs was not enough for her to see by -- or it wouldn't be, once they left the hole to dreary daylight behind them. "Noa, if you please," Shiara said, lifting one hand as dull orangey light blossomed in one of her bracelets. She looked again at the man, now cursing and giving his underling orders. He'd still not bothered telling her what they were dealing with, and now they were in a right mess.

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me more about what we're facing now?" she said, turning in a slow circle to help her pinpoint the direction of the cry.

[Rosenrot]

Lua was pleasantly surprised to learn the armored stranger knew more of the Curse than most. The apprentice had just opened her mouth to respond to Mergoux when the ground slipped away beneath her feet. Some distance below, she landed on her back, knocking the air from her chest. Dirt and dust choked her lungs as she tried to regain her breath. In the dim light, she could see Lucian's hand reaching down to her. The apprentice accepted his assistance. Once she was on her feet, Lua looked around, making out what she could of their surroundings. Some sort of catacombs, no doubt attached to the church above. At least it wasn't the sewers. Just the idea of being ankle-deep in human waste was more horrifying to Lua than any corpse-strewn tunnel.

“Yes, Sir.” Lua reflexively responded, pulling the browned mask down from her face. The once-red cloth was soaked with muck. The apprentice retrieved her wax as ordered and ran the pink brick down one of her swords, then the other. An orange light emanated from one of the bone mage's adornments after the dark-skin woman had beseeched some unseen entity. In the brighter light, one could see a glistening coating along the edge of her blades, a little present for the Cursed.

A child's voice called out for help and Lua frowned deeply. Was this a trick of the Cursed, or simply a very unlucky child? Most likely, the former. The sharp sound echoed off stone walls, making its origin difficult to pinpoint. Another cry rang out and Lua whirled, swords readied. She took a step in that direction, only to hear another wail come from the opposite way. “Which damned way is-” Lua started when another sound came echoing to them.

Bonk

Bonk

Bonk

A skull, barely big enough to fill one's hand, bounced out of the dark and rolled towards the group. Lua set her jaw and looked at Lucian. “Guess it's that way.”

[Overlord Thraka]

Mergoux had been preparing her scathing retort to the Bone Mage, when the ground fell from under them, sending the four plummeting into the earth. The fall wasn't long, and the landing was hard, leaving them more annoyed than hurt, Mergoux especially. Swiftly getting to her feet, she snarled angrily and brushed dust off herself. "Goddamn' stupid-" she swore, only to stop the moment she heard the child's voice.

It was a trick, it had to be a trick, the likelihood of a child becoming trapped down... wait, where exactly where they? It was like a series of catacombs, perhaps an ancient set of burial grounds that began at the church, and extended well past the building itself. In all honesty it was a wonder the place wasn't half-collapsed, as by her own estimate they were barely fifteen feet below ground, and there were some heavy bloody gravestones or mausoleums in that churchyard. Then again, perhaps they were in the shallowest part of the catacombs...

Her mind focused as the child cried out again, and instantly she turned towards the noise. There was no confusing her, she could pick out the direction of the sound easily. Within the confines of the catacombs her greatsword would be too unwieldy, so instead she drew forth her twin knuckle-daggers, overlarge as they were. The weapons were unusual, long, falchion-like weapons, each with a brass knuckle grip as part of the handle. The grip served several purposes, besides making punches more powerful, they also served to make knocking the weapon from Mergoux's hand slightly more difficult, as well as serving as counter-balance for if she chose to hurl the weapon like a knife. They were weighted properly for throwing, but still too big to be effective. To that regard, she had three small throwing knives on the back of her belt, just in case. 'Be Prepared', that was a saying Mergoux lived by.

"This way." she said, moving off with one dagger held normally, and the other in a reverse grip as the skull bounced past her feet. There was no waiting, whatever was down here, she'd either save the child from it, or kill the thing that pretended to be said child. Either way, blood would be spilled. It almost made her feel a little excited, almost.

[LordOfTheNight]

---

The old raven watched as the bone woman cast a spell to give them a bit of light. It wasn't very bright but that was perhaps due to the darkness being manifested by the cursed. It was darkness one could choke on. Lucian cursed himself for not bringing oil with them to make a torch. Too late to worry about it now. Mergoux took the lead as she seemed to be able to track the child's voice. Lucian moved slowly, gripping his ax and breathing slowly and calmly despite their surroundings. The bone woman then spoke up and Lucian hissed towards her. "Quiet woman! We don't need to make our position more known" he whispered. The old raven scowled as he considered whether or not to tell the group what they faced. If he told the whole truth, it would likely scare them and leave their will weakened. If he told them nothing, they could easily get themselves killed and the pair would have failed their oath to guard the living. Only what they must know for the situation. He sighed as he came to a decision.

"All you both need to know for now is to be on guard. These things are crafty and have a tendency to ambush you. You want these things dead? Fire, dismemberment, or the wax my apprentice and I use. Now quiet!" he said as the voice could still be heard in the darkness. "Momma! Papa! Anyone!" it said. You could hear the child whimpering and clearly crying. Lucian wasn't sure how a child managed to get into the catacombs until they found something. An opening in the wall of the catacombs that lead into a circular tunnel of bricks. Then the smell hit him. Shit, piss, human waste. They'd found their way into a sewer. This made some semblance of sense. Perhaps the child was poor and homeless and had taken shelter in the sewers to avoid the rain and merely gotten lost. Lucian pulled a cloth up over his face and nose as the smell was something truly foul. Thankfully the waste wasn't ankle deep and the rain was drowning some of the stench. As they trekked deeper into the sewer, a shape became apparent before them. It was short and had long black hair that was dirty, curled into a ball against the wall. The girl.

"Hello? Is someone there?" the girl asked. Lucian rested his hand on the mercenary's shoulder to tell her to stay where she was. "Lua, stay here with them. If she's cursed it's better she isn't in the middle of our group" he instructed. Lucian took his crossbow off his shoulder and handed it to Lua along with his bolts. She knew how to use it thankfully, her aim however was hit and miss. At this range, he at least felt comfortable putting her in charge. The crossbow was truly a unique design, a lever action device that pulled the drawstring back quickly and effortlessly and made firing it much faster. Before he stepped forward, he looked at the group. "If this girl is cursed, suppress your fear and trust your actions. We don't need them getting the upper hand. Am I understood?" he questioned sternly with a raised eyebrow.