[IC] Fallen Realms: The Ruins of Ironshore (An exploration and dungeon crawling based RP)

[SyrianHamster]

Scenario #1 Planting the Flag

---

Stren’s feet planted themselves into the sandy bog before the rowboat had even run itself aground.

He was an experienced sailor, and he knew that the last person off the boat in hostile conditions, was often the first to die; hidden snipers were an extreme possibility, given the ruins’ hilltop position and the advantages it conveyed over the cove.

“Ca’mon, ya sea whores,” he called back to the rest of the group; his voice was one better suited to a gravel roadway than a man’s vocal cords. “Tha’ cancil ain’t payin’ us by tha’ hour, eh?”

His pistol was up and ready; he’d taken great care to keep it dry as he and the group had made their way ashore. The ocean was calm, for now, but one would be surprised by how wet they could get by pulling an oar.

Looking up at the ruins, his eyes struggled to make out the vague silhouettes of low walls and battlements through the thick white of the fog. It was an oppressing sight, one that filled him with a slight inkling of dread; this was not a new feeling to him.

“Bloomin’ fog,” he cursed under his breath. “If it ain’t rain, it’s fog, ‘n’ if it ain’t fog, it’s a high tide, ‘n’ if it ain’t a high tide, it’s angry locals.”

As if he had tempted Dreisdia herself, the invisible clouds above gave way to a light rain. He quickly stuffed his pistol back into his trench coat, careful to disarm the weapon as he did so. He’d known many a man to shoot themselves in such a way.

“Let’s get this over with, eh?” he yelled, swishing through the salty sea water and shielding his eyes from the rain with a damp forearm. “Sooner we get to tha’ castle, sooner we can get dry, eh?”

[Forsythe]

Scenario #0 - The Cutlass

---

Standing on the bow of the ship, the breeze was throwing Tala's raven hair into her face. She didn't mind though. the sight of land - any land - was exactly what she needed. The past few days she spent locked up in her cabin to avoid the sailors half mad from hunger. The fact that her cabin was mostly stuffed with herbs of which some were edible made her position even worse, but at the right time, the man in the crow's nest finally yelled 'Land ahoy'. The mood on the ship immediately went up two notches. She was suddenly bombarded with sailors requesting she check the firing mechanisms on their pistols, but she didn't mind - it was something to do.

And now the first rowboat left to the shore. Of course she stayed behind - who knew what they might be getting themselves into, and she didn't find it appealing to participate unprepared. The curiosity of what new plants and materials she might find here was making her twitch though. But now, she could do nothing but wait. Her hands held a piece of wood and a knife, chipping away at the material in an attempt to make herself something resembling a flute to pass the time. Sighing, she looked up from the work, wishing landing party would return or that, despite her enclosed nature, somebody would strike up a conversation.

[PhoenixWhite]

-Accident!-

[PhoenixWhite]

Before the Scenario

The tension was palpable. Each side of the ship was bristling with gunpowder and steel, hardened sailors turning on each other after months of time together. Trust is such a flimsy thing, and loyalty as fleeting as the wind. Hunger and exhaustion will break even the most indefatigable of warriors. Delilah knows, she's seen it happen countless times through the Queen's memories.

Ah, yes. The queen's memories. Every Mali is linked to their queen, whose voice whispers in her head even now.

Don't get involved with this foolish struggle, Pup. the voice intoned. Delilah's single living eye traced along the two sides of soon-to-be combatants. She relaxed-- what most people considered a submissive gesture in a dangerous situation was actually a sign of this girl's most lethal moments. A complete calm, her demeanor loose and as if a strong wind could blow her over. The thick robes she wore hiding her entire body save her face, and even then the girl often-times wore a strange half-mask-- such as right now. It hid the lower half of her face entirely, leaving just her velvet eyes viewable.

And then the call of 'land ahoy'. Delilah stiffened back up and sharply walked below-decks. She was only above in order to see what the commotion was about, and with those words...'Land ahoy'...She knew that there would be no fight...

Scenario 1

And so Delilah insisted she be put on this initial scouting/landing crew. It was the first time she actively spoke out the entire trip, and she was...forceful with it as well. The Divine Queen wanted her on this island, and she was following her orders. She kept her firearms under the thick robes, the highly strange Kv'Otheian material keeping her weapons and body dry completely, if growing heavy from the moisture. This robe and cloak combination was more than enough to dampen most simple blunt weapons and smaller blades, but even it couldn't stop arrows and heavier weapons.

And so the girl put her lot into rowing ashore, shifting the rifle into her hands as the boat shifted into shore and beached itself. The fog may be settling in, but the girl's velvet eyes pierced through it with her trained perception-- if there was movement she'd notice it within a reasonable distance. She stayed silent, shifting forward in her eerily silent manner to accompany Stren.

[Dragonbud]

Scenario #0 - The Cutlass

The voyage had been almost unbearable for the young Satyr. Between getting constantly sea sick from the constantly rocking boat and the lack of clean water and food, as well as options to bathe, it was pretty horrible. And to make it worse the rest of the passengers were going insane. She watched as fight after fight broke out, many of them ending in injury or death. It was strange to Ava to see this much violence in one small place. She often found herself retreating to her cabin to keep away from the danger. Ava was able to keep her wits about her, partly thanks to the calm nature that came with being a satyr. But it also came from music. During the night Ava would lay out on deck, watching the stars and playing her pan flute. It was hard to go insane from hunger and boredom when you are playing music.

And when land had been found, despite the fog and poor weather, Ava felt her spirit become rejuvenated. Land meant fresh food and water, and maybe even some flowers or plants or anything to get her back into the soil. Ava had been one of the first to volunteer to go off and explore, but her request was denied. She was told that she was needed to stay on the Cutlass to keep everyone sane while the scouting party went off. And with a sigh Ava agreed that it was for the best, requesting that someone on the scouting team brought her back a flower for her hair.

Ava now leans against the railing of the ship, a cheery and hopeful tune floating out of her pan flute, several sailors dancing to the tune around her.

[Lucius Cypher]

Scenario #1

---

Malakaus Ralthavar Marchosias

Eager to put some solid ground underneath his feet, Malakaus chose to accompany the crew who were investigating the castle structure on their mysterious island. He could not carry as much as he'd like, meaning that his current load out was only his axe and rifle. He was dressed in full armor at least, giving him some confidence against any potential threat. He had been quiet the entire ride putting his back into manning two oars, a task that he does repetitively well.

Although he had a protective cloth for his rifle, it needed no protections from the elements. While none of Malakaus's weapons could be considered "Elegant" or "Sophisticated" they were certainly durable. Be it rain, snow, or sludge, you can be sure that if Malakaus made the rifle, it will shoot when it's ready to shoot. And if need be it can also be used to bash through heavy armor. Ugly and bulky, but reliable and neigh impossible to break. Even the most careless marksmen will have a hard time breaking his rifle.

Eventually the party reached shore, and while they could discern the vague silhouette of the ruins they were to investigate, Malakaus himself could not see much else through the thick fog. Soon it began to rain, making things even more complicated since they had to be quick, or else they would have to slog through mud. Malakaus's skills weren't much use from afar but he still took out his blunderbuss, loading both barrels with metal pellets. One thing was for certain, anything that was in the general direction in front of his gun was going to be in a world of hurt. Malakaus followed Stren close enough for the both of them to be able to see each other but with enough distance that the two won't be caught in the blast radius of an explosion, should one occur.

Scenario #2

---

Andari Ambermane

Sniffing the air Andari could already pick up the strange scent of the boat they were sent to investigate. Though the sea water had washed away most of the more subtle clues as to what was there, he could detect strong elven influences and planned accordingly. His supernatural tracking ability would be helpful to find any remainder of the wreck's crew, as well as predicting any ambush that would inevitably happen. However until they can reach the wreck itself Andari could not detect much else from their little row boat. Getting onto shore Andari's massive armored form almost shuttered with joy as he felt the wet sand beneath his feet. He had been on that boat for much too long for his liking, starving himself just so others wouldn't grip about their own hunger. As soon as they established a base of operations Andari was going to go into the woods and eat the first big game he takes down. He had no intention of sharing until he had his fill, but afterwards he would gladly bring back meat for the crew.

[SyrianHamster]

Scenario #1 Planting the Flag

---

"Bloody fog," Stren muttered, as he stumbled across the beach. Gravel crunched underneath his boots, and his toes were going numb with Ironshore's bitter embrace. "Bloody rain."

Something moved up ahead; or so he thought. A shadow in the fog, of a man - no - too small for a man. A child perhaps? He drew his pistol from his trench coat.

"Who's there?" he called, "you want some trouble eh?"

No one answered him, but a harsh wind blew in suddenly from the sea. Stren strained his eyes from left to right, and he smiled for a moment as he noticed his hand was shaking. "Odd," he mumbled, "not like me to get spooked."

Then again, Ironshore was a different category to any of the islands he'd ever been to, inhabited or no. Its foggy overcoat was thick with an oppressive malice, and him not being able to see anything was driving his mind into anxiety's colourful corner. Maybe, he was getting old, old and stupid.

"You there, boy," he snapped, pointing at a young scruffy sailor of perhaps fifteen winters. "Up 'head, your young bastard eyes will see betta' than mine, eh?"

The youth dutifully obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and he skipped ahead with a small blade drawn. Stren, and not for the first time in his life, was glad there were always stupid, younger folk to send into the unknown, rather than himself.

Something growled; Stren's eyes narrowed, and he saw the dwindling silhouette of the young sailor suddenly vanish.

"Boy?" He yelled, pulling back the trigger on his pistol. It clicked into place.

There was a sudden noise, as if someone was tearing a lettuce in half, and then out rolled the youth's head from the fog; it stopped at Stren's feet, and his eyes widened.

"Arm yerselves," he called back to the group.

Forms materialised, as if called by his words. They circled him. Some were as tall as a man, but others were small, as if young children. One of them stumbled forwards, and Stren wretched into his glove.

"Shit on a stick," he cried.

Before him was a man - or an Elf perhaps? But no, not quite. It was a dead thing; its neck, slanted to one side, and its skin green with sea algae. It rasped at him, and moved forwards with reaching arms.

"Oh ballocks to this," Stren grunted, and sighted the withered husk with his pistol; he depressed the trigger and his hand disappeared behind a ball of smoke.

The creature stumbled backwards, and released a moan.

"The dead walk," Stren called to his comrades. "Get 'em in tha' head, or get 'em with fire!"

He'd fought these wretches before, as they were not an entirely uncommon sight in the world - but their ghastly appearance never made things any easier.

[PhoenixWhite]

Scenario 1 - Planting the flag

---

'The dead walk'

A simple problem. The dead were damn unsettling, but for the most part they served as a simple foe. Stren's tip about the weaknesses subsided into the back of Delilah's mind as she, almost mechanically, shifted her footing into a stable position and hoisted the sight of her rifle to her right eye, swiftly shifting the weapon's gaze over to one of the creature's skulls-- at least, the silhouette of a head-- and squeezed the trigger back.

An explosion of smoke erupted from the front of her rifle as flint struck home, luckily igniting the powder despite the moist fog. She didn't wait to recover from the smoke, moving to draw one of her Eiderhalter from within her coat without missing a beat, the other hand sliding the file back within her robes where it slid into a 'sheath' of sorts, to hold it in place. She turned, sliding her hand into the hand-encasing-steel that is the Eiderhalter's grip, her other hand drawing its twin from the other hip as she stepped closer to Stren in order to keep line-of-sight with her 'ally'.

Confusing Stren with an enemy in this situation would just be...

Stay on task, my pup... whispered the Divine Queen

So she raised her Eiderhalter into the peculiar close-combat stance of the Mali; guns crossed in an 'x' in front of her chest. She maintained this stance for the time necessary to get closer to Sten, before (trusting the man at her back...) turning and extending both guns out, her head turning to look either way as she waited for very easy shots...point-blank, clearly visible threats-- of course, aiming for the head. She's got six shots, and is quite determined to keep any threats away from Stren's back.

[Lucius Cypher]

Scenario #1Malakaus Ralthavar Marchosias

---

When the first zombie came out of the fog, it ate a load of buckshot. Well, it tried anyways. Hard to eat anything when you're missing half your head. Malakaus blasted one of the zombies just a few yards away from him with a blast from his blunderbuss, relying on it's spread to hit anything in this dense fog. He wondered if anyone had any means to clear the fog out. There was a groan behind him and Malakaus spun around with great force, swinging his blunderbuss at the direction of the noise. Lucky for him it was another undead, and his blunderbuss was able to crack it's skull with a strike from it's barrel. Once he ran out of ammo, Malakaus's gun could still function as a mean club. But he still had one barrel full of shot left and he was going to save it for when he needed it.

He spotted Stren and Delilah getting back-to-back to cover their defenses when the undead started to come around. malakaus was thinking of doing the same when he noticed that some of the more nameless crew members were starting to panic. It wouldn't do them any good if they all died, so Malakaus did his best to rally them together, shouting over the screaming. "Keep your heads together men! Back-to-back, don't try to fight them all yourself! Get over here!" Malakaus managed to get two other gunmen with him and told them to watch his back and keep him informed of any zombies they see.

Soon about four converged onto the trio but Malakaus was ready for them. "Center of mass men, aim for the center of mass!" Malakaus knew that if they tried to aim for the head they would miss; the head was a small target, an he couldn't rely on them to have a steady aim while they were panicking. But by giving them some commands there was some order. The main fired at the zombie's center mass, a few of the shots heading high enough just to hit the head. As more zombies showed up malakaus comtinued to shout orders, and soon the men managed to get a circle of corpses sounding them full of bullets. By now Malakaus had to take out his axe as he didn't have time to load his blunderbuss again, but it served well as the other two men were more than able to keep firing. "One at a time boys, you keep them down and rotate!" After each man would shoot a zombie, causing the undead to stop due to the force of the bullet, Malakaus would quickly lash out and slash their heads with his axe. he was careful not to bury his blade into their skulls; last thing he wanted was to get it stuck. Eventually Malakaus managed to get his three men towards Delilah and Stren. They were a bit shaken, but alive. Malakaus had a bit of gore on him due to going into melee with the undead. "Stren this is Malakaus, I got two other men with me as well. Mind if we join your circle?"

[SyrianHamster]

Scenario #1 Planting the Flag

---

Stren's rapier pierced the jaw of a long-dead Elf; its eyes, overgrown with sea algae, exploded as the steel of his weapon caved its head from below.

"Away with yer, dead'n," Stren cursed, kicking the lifeless body aside.

The crowd of the howling dead was thinning, the veteran ensign could feel it in his bones. For all their horror, and that gods awful smell they carried, zombies were stupid. They never held back, they never hid, they never ambushed or laid traps - they simply came at you, willing your flesh to be within reach. If one ever caught you off guard, it was because you yourself were an idiot.

The Kv'Othe woman had found her way to his back, and he thanked his stars that someone had the sense to watch his blind side. Her pistols thundered their grizzly orchestra, and he assumed, rather than saw, that a few of the undead had fallen victim to them. She was a skilled one, that woman, but he didn't trust her. Not because of her reputation on-board the Cutlass as a rather reclusive individual, but because she was a woman. A woman with guns. Lo! What chaos could unfold if her emotions got the better of her.

"Careful yer don't shoot me, Delilah darlin'," Stren said, turning his head to one side to convey his message, but not taking his eyes off an advancing husk.

The one known as Malakaus, the half-orc appeared from the midst of the defence effort, with a handful of sailors at his back. The sailors themselves looked terrified, and Stren mentally cursed that the expedition was not carrying more experienced men. Then again, the more experienced men knew what kind of piss poor voyage the Cutlass' journey was no doubt going to be.

"Join our circle, Master Orc, and let's get ta puttin' tha last 'o these dead'ns to the sword 'n bullet, eh?" Stren said, gleaming a brief - and toothless - smile at Malakaus.

A dozen more the walkers stumbled out of the fog, reaching for their prey with arms poised to receive an embrace. Stren reckoned that'd be the last of them.

[DiamondBlizzard]

Scenario 0 - Titus Dracos

Being cooped up on a ship for half a year's time was not fun. Titus, halfway through the voyage started showing some...peculiar things. Many sailors could have sworn that he had been next to on of them overlooking the scene, and in the next second he was gone. Though Titus was an assassin, being trapped on this damn vessel for too long tired and bored him greatly. At one point he began to waste bullets, seeminbg to shoot nowhere but the horizon and the shadows in the sea, though nothing of extreme importance or of interest, sailors, the first time he stepped aboard the ship felt uneasy around Titus. When he heard "Land Ho!" his heart nearly skipped a beat due to the excitement of being able to walk on land again. Though that excitement ended as soon as fog began to surround the shore and event the front part of the ship....Titus readied his gear.

---

Scenario 1 - Titus Dracos

Titus straightened his tunic and armor as his eyes seemed to gleam with the slightest bit of amusement below his hood, beginning to walk off the ship and towards the shore. His boots made a thumping noise everytime Titus took a step, beginning to leave the ship's surface and exchange it for the soft and unsteady sand beneath him. The moment his left boot touched the sand, his guard went up at the sight of the ghastly walkers' silhouettes. Titus, drawing his sword entered the fog covering the area, planning on using the enemy's concealment against them. As Titus entered the fog a gory zombie hand grabbed his right shoulder, attempting to bite Titus.

"Damn bastard, get off!" Titus spoke in response to the zombie. His accent was quite strange and could not exactly be guessed.

Titus turned towards the zombie with a powerful thrust of his right arm, letting seemingly darker blood stain his steel longsword. The zombie seemed to make a gagging sound as the sword pierced where his adam's apple used to be, if it were a man. The head and body of the zombie fell against him, a darker shade of blood seeming to coat the sword in a sort of slimy blood. Ripping the sword out with a tad bit of difficulty, he attempted to join the group of the tree.

He was stopped by three walkers, two in front and one behind. Using pure skill and instinct, Titus quickly sheathed his sword and dived towards the group in a forward roll, letting his shoulder roll him to his destination. Recovering from the roll, he spun around and held on to a wire on his left gauntlet, aiming it at a zombie. Letting go of the wire, a suddent blast of gunpowder and the sound of a bullet leaving the barrel shot out from the gauntlet; piercing the walker's head as it fell to the floor. The other two zombies, charged at him, a combination of a gag and a yell erupting from their throats.

Walking backwards with his sword drawn in front of him, he joined Stren's side. Showing no sign of hostility towards as he did so.

(How's my post? Also I'm sorry for any typos, the majority of my posts come from my tablet.)

[PhoenixWhite]

Scenario 1 - Planting the flag

---

Delilah remained silent as she expended the last of her ammunition, turning to focus her attention fully in one direction as the Orc approached with his small group. Despite being out of ammunitions, she still kept the pistols in hand. Now that she wasn't turning her head side-to-side in order to actually see both direction she could actually fight rather than just defend.

And so the half-masked girl stepped away from the small group that had banded together out of the combat as she swiveled her body into her strange fighting stance; it resembled that of a pugilistic boxer, but was adapted to the use of her Eiderhalter.

With this bit of elbow room she planted her feet and waited for the nearest of the 'walkers' to approach, before twisting her body into a rather savage punch-- it lacked any semblance of grace and was in all actuality a rather savage assault. The pistols she bore were refined bludgeoning tools, and the hand-guards made excellent pugilistic weapons. The steel wrapped around her knuckles crushed into the forehead of an approaching 'walker', resulting in a rather nauseating moment of fist-in-skull...Delilah wasn't fond of that. She shifted her stance back, removing her gore-soaked fist as the corpse fell to the ground.

She stepped back, a half-step, and avoided the grabbing embrace of another shambling corpse as she lashed out with her other arm, this time keeping the pistol extended out fully-- the metal tool replicating Delilah's earlier punch, but less gore-on-hand. Now, that blind-side of hers is rather drastic...

And she didn't quite catch the shambling little guy coming from her left until its hands grabbed at her waist. She turned her gaze downward at the undying child as her left arm brought the grip of her pistol smashing down on the top of its head...ew, that's just more gore on her hands...

The girl was quite vicious with her assault, and the cloak she wore would defend against any scratches and the like that happened to land on her.

[Lucius Cypher]

Scenario #1Malakaus Ralthavar Marchosias

---

"Hah! These monsters made a classic blunder; attacking us before we attacked them!"

The circle began to expand as more of the undead shambled forward. The Malakaus and the other two men with him hastily began to reload their weapons during the temporary respite and quickly readied themselves for the attack. A dozen broke through the fog to attack the group, and everyone did what they had to to fight back. Delilah disengaged to meet the enemy while Malakaus had the other two men with him take care of each other. He charged forward a bit away from the group to make sure that the undead didn't overwhelm them all at once.

With a vicious swing Malakaus easily decapitated one of the zombies with his axe. Two small undead, children likely, moved remarkably fasted towards the orc. He managed to kick one away but the other clenched onto his other leg and tried to bite him. Tried. The foolish zombie tried to bite his armored belt, and Malakaus was able to bash it's skull with a heavy downward punch. The other undead child was up by now, which only served to make it easier for Malakaus to slash through it's skull. "Three down, now how many more are left?"

[SyrianHamster]

Scenario 1 - Planting the flag

---

Stren smiled his toothless smile at the Orc, "can't ya count, dumb dumb?" he sneered, "seven, we got seven left. Not like they're moving too fast to count, is it?"

His rapier sliced horizontally across the neckline of a bony and brittle upright corpse. The creature's head fell to the sand with a trail of black blood following behind, and it snapped menacingly at him after it came to a standstill. He booted it into the frothing ocean.

"Six, we got six left," Stren shouted.

The other shamblers moved on the circle; a sailor was grabbed by one, and hauled to the ground. His mate tried to help, stabbing it in the side with a spear, but the dead don't feel what the living do, and it continued to snack on its unfortunate screaming victim. Stren was not phased by this, and with a shrug, he drew his powder satchel and started to reload his pistol. One of the monsters was making its way for him, but he had enough time.

"This all ya got Ironshore? A bunch of dead'ns? Pah! Expected more," the wily ensign muttered, squinting as he looked up at the castle high above them. "Still, where there be dead, there usually be treasure, eh?"

[Jivusa]

Scenario #2

---

After being on the Cutlass for so long, it was obvious that Kaeles was eager to set foot on solid ground again. The boat was crowded and creaky, smelled bad, and was filled with rowdy men who had often attempted to assault another. When they weren't fighting and drinking, the others often found entertainment in poking fun at the short, lone Forest Elf. Not only was he an Elf and the majority on the ship was a human male population, but he was also small and weak compared to the hefty men. To add insult to injury, his speech wasn't as advanced, and would often stutter, leave unfinished sentences, or just blank on words altogether. This all tied in to Kaeles being on the receiving end of jokes and insults. No wonder he preferred to stay with the women and help there instead. It wasn't as violent.

Though, after finding land, he wouldn't have to be on board any longer. At least there would be space to walk, now. And, the sickening movement of the ship would not be an issue anymore. If he was required back aboard, it would be anchored down. Hopefully, anyways.

Now, Kaeles, was aboard a smaller rowboat, accompanied with some others. Most noticeably among them was the werewolf. To the small Elf, the hulking, canine humanoid terrified him. Kaeles was born and had lived in the wild, but he'd never seen anything like that until his arrival on the Cutlass. He hoped he was friendly. Or, at least tolerant of Kaeles. Last thing he wanted right now was to be an Elf cutlet.

As the rowboat neared the shore, Kaeles made sure everything was there. Bow, shortsword, knife, mortar & pestle, small animal traps, and wooden flute...it was all there, mostly in his pack. His leather armor was, of course, on his body, as you never know what might try to kill you in this new land. It was exciting and dangerous. He was both anxious and eager. It was confusing. It was exhilarating. It made Kaeles retch a little bit.

[Tatsua Aiisen]

Scenario #2, "Not the first?"

---

Quietly, Sarah closes her eyes and listens to the near silence of the surrounding fog. There had been another expedition sent out earlier that day, but she prioritized healing the injured over being the first to set foot on new shores. Now, she took a deep breath in anticipation. Ironshore. When her journey first began, she had experienced chills upon hearing its name. This was the land, spoken of to her by one of the other children of the Church. Hushed legends were what she remembered, chronicles of ages long past, and a war against the gods. Heresy, she muses, but not without its entertainment value. She recalls the long, rainy nights under the covers, whispering back and forth with her bed-mate, discussing these forbidden stories to great length. And now, it seemed, she was to experience them firsthand.

To her side, sat a man of curious origins: A werewolf. From what little she knew of him, he was a misunderstood fellow with a bit of a...how to put it, bestial side to him. Naturally, the two of them had exchanged words and wonderment on the long journey across the seas, but neither had spent any exclusive time with the other, and it hardly seemed they would ever get such a chance in the future. You never know, though.

Further towards the end of the boat sat yet another interesting male of a curious species. An elf, faring from some of the greater of forests in Orysson. Even long after their first meeting, the sight of those peculiarly pointed ears made Sarah's heart flutter in excitement. An elf, she would think to herself loudly. The church where she had been raised had many books, and more than a few of those contained stories of elves. Still...she couldn't help but feel perhaps a little underwhelmed. This elf in particular never seemed to talk much at all, and stood at a height small enough that even she could compare.

Suddenly, as if to signal the end of her lengthy internal review, the sound of hushed whispering overcomes the small rowboat. Sarah brings herself back to reality, and takes a careful peer over towards the rapidly approaching shore.

"This fog here, I'd hazard to say it's quite the bother to see through."

Her thoughts slip from her mouth without much thought, as she beholds a whole variety of interesting and new sights, ranging from thick fog to a few patches of slightly thicker fog. Of course, she hadn't expected much more than this, but it was still jarring for somebody with as little adventuring experience as herself. Almost unconsciously, she traces her hand out into the gloom and mutters quiet, unheard words into the mist, searching within herself for the power she knew existed.

She continues this for several seconds, culminating into a single, barely audible "Lux". Suddenly, there emits a mystical flash of light from the palm of her hand. Bright at first, the light quickly dies down with her touch and is eventually quieted to little more than a gentle, pulsing glow, held safely between her dainty fingers. Satisfied with her miracle, she quickly thanks the Patron for his gift and holds her tiny light aloft, in an attempt to perhaps reveal what they could not see so easily.

But alas, the light revealed nothing. That's not to say it didn't pierce the fog, which it did very nicely, but the ominously quiet beach that sat waiting for them to land held no visible secrets. To her sharp eyes, there were no great fiends or unknown treasures lurking in that gloom, or indeed, anything more than simple clumps of sand and stone. And so, the rowboat makes shore without incident, and its tiny crew finally disembarks onto ancient land, gleefully unaware of what perils it may hold for them yet.

[Lucius Cypher]

Scenario #1Malakaus Ralthavar Marchosias

---

Sinking his axe into the neck of one undead, Malakaus looked down at the fallen sailor. His screams had long since been silenced, his neck torn open and gushing out blood. Malakaus would have to ensure that the sailor meant his true end, least he become another one of the undead. But that would be dealt with later. Right now there was about five more problems that Malakaus had to deal with. Taking a deep breath Malakaus focused on the task at hand. There was five zombies that needed to be taken down, and he was going to do it very soon.

Time felt like it was crawling now. Every second took ten, every minute took hours, but regardless of how slow time was going, Malakaus was going full speed. One zombie's head flew off it's shoulder and into the sea. Another was cleaved from shoulder to hip. The legs of another was lopped off, shortly followed by it's scalp. Another was bisected. And lastly, the final zombie quartered. By the time the bodies fell, Malakaus was covered in their blood and gore. His hair was sticky with their remains and his clothes heavy with their visceral fluid. He swiped the blood off his axe and looked towards the castle beyond the mist. "Let's hurry. I'd rather not figure out what other surprises are in the mist."

Scenario #2Andari Ambermane

---

Once the boat hit the shore Andari was quick to head towards the ship they were looking for. His sense picked up no threat, and in fact this entire end of the coast doesn't seem to have been touched in months at least. No footsteps, no scent of life or death. It was... Eerily isolated. He detected no magic at least, so all they needed to do was get to the boat, and from there he can try to pick up on the trail from there. How hard could it be after that? Andari went forward a bit, but didn't go too far and was still waiting for the rest of the others to follow him.