[IC] The Blight - Ruins of Fallion [Undead Fantasy]

[Shade]

Brittle winds are foaming swiftly at the mouth of the north, mists are falling like curtains to a theater stage, and only the keenest of eyes can reach more than a few meters ahead of their owner. The trees seem to be closing around the roads, their branches reaching for the nearest cousin, entangling and entrapping as the days pass. Some orange flames will still burn strong, but others shall dwindle, diminish and die as the cold rakes it plow across the land.

It is the eleventh day of Neth and the rivers are freezing over, supplies are at the cruel annual low and everything with a beating heart is getting desperate. Behind barricades and crumbling walls are the remaining humans, some larger groups than others, but all inevitably shrinking in number: slipping down the steep slope of attrition. Some fighters, remnants of old warriors, makeshift militia or just those brave enough - stand guard in the glare of the steel sun and in the soft poison that is the twilight.

Then there are those that were once men and women, those who fell to their darkest desires and could not recover. They hide away in the woods behind sharp spikes and standing logs, drooling over their stolen goods, feasting on their hunted flesh. Weak men, perhaps strong in body, but feeble in spirit, they cannot be trusted in anything but evil acts. Bandits, thugs and outlaws, blindly fighting against their own blood, not pausing long enough to realize the real enemy.

The Grey Tide is trickling out to sea, back to the foul cove in which it was born. Their numbers were once unimaginable, uncountable hordes that marched over their victims, ripping flesh and stealing screams. Now, though, they have been driven back off the beaches of Fallion's homes and into the wilderness. Occasionally mobs will crash against walls and combat will ensue, but defenses are holding for most, hope is lighting the way.

Whispers of a darker scourge are upon the lips of a few, a second wave is nigh they say, rumors of abused corpses and dark magic are abundant in the back alleys at nightfall. Whether there is a truth in this, or maybe the necromancers are loosing their grip, no one truly knows for sure. All that you know is the air in your lungs and the ground beneath your feet, and even that will wither in time.

[Kidd]

Sloane trailed the men at a distance, robe pulled over mouth to hide her breath, and green eyes flicking between each of them and about her surroundings carefully. She counted three for now; it didn't take many men to haul her few belongings from her shack she called home. It was a secluded home, but these buggers didn't seem to take the point.

The three stopped, and she counted two more--they must have agreed to meet at this location; they even had a small camp prepared for the night to follow. With narrowed eyes, she looked around again and retreated behind the cover of the tree beside her to contemplate her next moves. Three? She had been confident she could confront, as a woman or a witch. Five large men with arms and armor, however, made her anxious; and she hasn't spent her life looking for immortality just to throw it away over a few material goods. Some were personal and irreplaceable, though, and if she wanted them back she'd have to be smart or walk away now.

As she gazed about her environment--heavily wooded, a frozen river to the East--she listened. It seemed that they were going through their prizes and deciding on who gets what. This would give her time to figure just how dangerous these men were and, if she needed one, time to formulate a plan.

What she learned quickly was that they were mostly illiterate; the one that could read couldn't fully decipher the texts she owned. He didn't seem an idiot--just unaccustomed to magic and medicine. They had fun going through her clothes--private and otherwise--and they debated the actual worth of the decorations they found, too. The jewelry is what they seemed most interested in past that, and if they played with them too long, she knew they'd discover their magical qualities. So it was time to act.

She retreated from her hiding spot and moved away from where they made temporary camp. Out of sight and hopefully ear shot, Sloane started changing: she unsheathed the dagger at her her thigh and held it in her mouth as she lowered her bag to the ground. She took off layers of clothing until she could move freely and dropped them beside the bag. From in her bag, she retrieved a cooking pan and a smaller bag of her gold--valuable, but heavy. She tied the gold at her belt, kept the dagger in her mouth, and held the pan in her hand as she loosely donned her cloak.

Before she left her bag, she kicked lightly at it, adjusting its position so it was a blatant target and returned to her hiding spot...where it was oddly quiet. Shit, she thought; had she been discovered? She peeked out just as the silence was broken by their excited shouts. One of them held the sun in his hands: an ethereal blade and a gold chain at his neck with the same glow. She rolled her eyes and hid herself again.

From her purse, she pulled a coin and watched them fawn over the man's new blade. She drew in a long breath and finally throw the single coin, not staying in place to here it ding off one of the men's helmet. Eager to test his new toy, the one with the glowing sword moved forward, the others hesitantly following at his back to investigate the source of the coin. As they approached the south, she waited from the west until a couple were out of her sight, lost in the thick forestry.

While it was typically smart of the armored men to investigate, it probably would have been best to either stick together or split up the better armored guys in this case. After all, they didn't see the threat. "'Ey, we found something!" It must've been the guy with the sword--it was practically a torch so her supplies were easily found. But that was her cue: she stepped out from the brush and whacked the man before her in the head with her pan; however, he was meaty and big. Her heart skipped a bit when he didn't go down right away, but he was stunned as he slowly looked to her and she followed up with a second, hard swing. He dropped, his sword falling beside him and his friend turned on her.

"Hey!" he snapped, more so to alert the others than to scold her. He swung his blade at her--he was fast. However, she pulled her cloak off to meet him; it fell over his eyes and he missed her, so she swung the pan up and at his nose. She heard a crack and then he dropped, but the other three were coming at her and she quickly retreated far back into the brush.

They returned to their fallen allies, and the larger and literate one crouched to lift the cloak with a scowl. He dropped it again and looked around. "How the hells...?" he wondered as he stood again to his full height.

Then, from the tree tops above, Sloane dropped onto him, the force allowing her to stab the dagger though his helmet and the top of of his head. The two of them collapsed and she rolled forward, standing to face the last two men: both wielding two handed swords. Both were coming at her--until she spoke a word as old as the Elvish language and not only did the ethereal sword dissipate, but their campfire went out as well. So she brought her pan up to meet the solid steel. She grunted at his strength and stumbled back into the other as he scrambled for his sword to replace the magic one.

He stood his ground, but Sloane fell to the ground and turned onto her back just in time to block the sword again. She kicked his arm aside and threw the dagger into her attacker's throat, leaving only one more as she scrambled up to face him. She was mostly out of tricks, but he stood alone, the last remaining member of a group of five armed men against a woman who blew his sword out of existence. While she wielded only her dented cooking pan, she hoped he'd back down.

[Kingdoml1]

Harri's contract had ended just the day before the battle. Now the militia and the rest of the mercenaries were on the open field fighting the orcs. At first it seemed like they would be able to hold their lines, but the mercenaries were fighting for coin. When the realisation of probable defeat came, most of the mercenaries abandoned the fight. Better to live another day and spend coin in a tavern, rather than dying for someone elses cause. After that it was a massacre. The orcs pierced through from the middle like an arrow. Adding insult to injury their forces were able to flank them on both sides. As the orcs spilled the villagers blood, Harri kept on watching from the hill. He was taking mental notes on how these orcs fought, if it ever happened they would cross swords on the battlefield. He had told he could have won the battle against the orcs to the mayor and leader of the mercenaries, but for a fee of course. Of course he had not been sure if he could or not, but from experience it was more than probable that he was right. They didn't pay so Harri left in the morning of the battle.

Now the worst and best part would start again. There was a long trip from the southern border to reach a city, even settlements were few and far between. In the past years Harri had traveled these lands and more and more often settlements that used to farm in peace had been destroyed. Now only a few stood up, but it seemed more like a matter of time than anything, their destruction was inevidable. Harri had packed a good package of food supplies with him, mostly dried goods, but a few items of fresh food also. It wouldn't last the whole trip, but it would be enough to start with. He could always hunt for more.

The breeze was getting unusually cold for the south at this time of year, but Harri had been prepared and bought grease from the settlement. It would help against the stings of the cold, but not the cold itself. As he traveled around in paths well known to him, he couldn't help thinking of the past. Even the woods surrounding had seemed different for the last five years. It was like the trees and the flowers had lost their color and now were just resources. It was a dark world for sure, but Harris mind made it even darker. It sustained him. It was like out in the battlefield. He'd rush in to a situation and see if he could survive. It was reckless, but it had made his survival instincts stronger. Harri had to prepare for the night. It is always dangerous to sleep in the wild, but more so now that the dead are necessarily not dead anymore. In the past 5 years he had adapted and learned new skills from hunters, elfs and other travellers on the road. He chose a place that fit the criteria. He was a few days away from the nearest town, unless that one had seen the same fate as so many others.

[Shade]

@Kidd

Woah. It's not every day in a good for nothing bandits life that they find a house, unattended and full of shit to steal - today however was one of those 'not ever day' days. Leican was the first in and the last out, he made sure to check every corner and grimy crevice for loot. Most of it was junk, but then there was jewelry and scrolls and coins. Lucky day you'd think right? Yeah, Leican did. Up until a crazy magic bitch came and killed all his friends, and just when he was enjoying his awe issuing sword of whatever-the-fuck, she snuffs it out.

Now in the darkness he can make out her outline, slender but muscular with longish hair, dark skin from the south. A pan, fucking pan! He grips his sword tightly and they circle each other. Leican is ready to leap, it wouldn't take much effort on his part to jump and swing, but he knows that this whelp isn't all she seems. See he circles, and she circles, and they circle, in circles, for around 2 minutes. Both of them admiring the resentment of each others faces, the cold white of their eyes.

Then Leican died.

Thrown down to the ground, a spear point striking the mist bordered earth before his corpse does, a long ash pole protrudes out of his back, blood spilling and flooding from the gaping hole it has left. A slight rustling from behind his fallen body, a skeletal hand reaches through and brushes aside a stray twig, pushing through with purpose. A grey soldier, crumbling iron chest piece and chain mail gloves, an identical spear in its right hand, clasped coldly between it's white fingers. Black eyes darting from shadow to shade, a slight twitch attacking its left leg as it walks. It strides forward and stops, slowly a dead breath fills its rotting nostrils and it sniffs the air.

[Kidd]

Combat was not Sloane's strongest attribute. Sneak attacks and maybe some basic unarmed melee, sure. But facing an angry lowlife and his sword was exactly what she was not about. Fortunately--or perhaps unfortunately--her stalling and circling wasn't for naught. He was staked into the ground by a spear from behind. Another moment and it could've been Sloane in his spot; she gasped in surprise and stepped back with unsure footing. Then, at the rustling, she drops back behind her tree. With her heart beating loud in her chest, she rested a hand over her lips to quiet her anxious breathing. Carefully, slowly, she peeked out at the newcomer. One glance was enough and she retreated behind her cover again, eyes narrowed as she tried to process what she had seen. An undead of some sort, of course, but why? Why was it here?

[XxLyraxX]

Primrose scowled into the darkness and resisted the urge to pick up a stone and throw it in anger. She settled for stuffing her hands under her armpits to warm up her fingers and glare at the darkness surrounding her. The small fire crackled and danced merrily in front of her, casting shadows across the ground. The little girl let out a small huff and took out her dirks and began to sharpen them to keep her mind off the topic of her anger. Why Orion insisted she stay there while he dealt with a small goblin problem in a village not far from her she'll never know. He always went on and on how she needed to practice to hone her skills but what better practice than a few goblins? How was she going to get better if she didn't actually fight? But no. Instead she was stuck at their campsite. Cold. While her brother got to go fight. She wasn't afraid darn it! She could fight but Orion never let her prove herself! She wanted to help people like her father did. She hated being a weak link and lagging Orion down.

She huffed slightly and threw another stick on the fire. However, a noise in the dark of the forest had the girl snapping to attention. Her bright blues eyes darted to and fro, ears straining as she listened; barely breathing. It was very faint but she could swear she heard the tromp of boots. At first she thought it was Orion but the closer she listened the more she knew that wasn't true. Her brother walked with a soft tread, almost silent. These foot steps were loud, obnoxious. As if the owners didn't care if they were heard. And they were getting closer and closer to her camp. Quick as a flash, Primrose had the fire put out and her dirks back on her belt. She silently retreated into the darkness and crouched behind a tree, knowing her cloak would allow her to remain unseen. She wasn't as good at it as Orion but she was decent enough to get her by.

She didn't have long to wait before a pair of men came into sight. They were sporting torches and were talking loudly. Primrose held her breath as they spotted her fire and went to investigate. Realizing this was her cue to leave, the little girl began making her way through the dark on quiet feet. She knew Orion had headed north and glanced up at the sky. There. There was the North Star. That would guide her north. She glanced back at the direction of her campsite before heading through the forest, hoping she got to the village before Orion left. No need to play hide and seek in a world full of danger. She just needed to find Orion before something else found her. Easy, right? Hopefully.

[CreeXLR]

"Oi, John, get yer ass over here! I found sum'ting!" - The thin, scrawny man cried as he struggled to pull on bits of the big pile of debris at the far end of the cavern.
"Aye? For fock's sake Pim, ther ain no nut'ing o'er there but trash!"
"Just shut yer yammerin' and get over here, I need a a light!"
John sighed, grabbed the rusty lantern and stood up from the campfire. He was a big man in his late thirties, with a club nose and a weary, weathered face. A cheap rusted over shortsword was tucked through the old mouldy rope he wore in place of a belt.

"Aye.. Billy ye watch the pot so soup don' boil out. I'mma go help tha' retarded brother a'yous." - John spat through his teeth to the burly cloaked man who was snoozing on the ground, lit the lantern with the ember from the fire and headed off towards Pim. This day was really going to the wolves. They hoped to find some good loot in the old ruins, but all they found was some scrap and a whole bunch of moulded over rock. And if that wasn't bad enough a blasted rain storm darkened the skies and trapped them in this wet hole of a cave. Tch, ah well. Better than trying to brave the Grey in the dark.

"Aye aye... whad'ya find ya twat?"
"Fock off! And Come come, get tha' light o'er here!" - Pim hissed and waved his hand. John sighed and raised the lantern. As dim as the light from the old thing was, it revealed what looked to be a half-collapsed archway that was further blocked by all kinds of junk blown into the cave by errant winds. A small opening could be seen past the rubble, so John Moved the lantern even closer to let the light in. The moment he did Pim screamed out in glory - inside, despite the thick layer of dust, shined a tall suit of exquisite armour.

"Would ya look at tha'! With tha' ting we's gonna be the best gang on this 'ere road! Haha! I knew tha' map to tis place was worth tha' coin!" - Pim rattled out triumphantly and began ripping at the rubble with renewed vigor.
"Nay, we's no trained to wer tha' kind of armour anyways. Bett'r sell th'ting ta some noble. Get some good coin an' leave tis hole fer good. B'sides, look, the's all kind o' baubles o'er there!" - John moved the lantern a bit revealing a complex menagerie of bronze levers, tubes and plates surrounding the armour.
"Yer'right! Wait up, I can reach one now, methinks!" - Pim scurried up the junk heap and stuck his arm in through the opening. After a few seconds of rummaging about his hand finally found an ornate bronze lever and grabbed on to it. - "Got it!" - Pim exclaimed and yanked on the lever as hard as he could...

---

Voices? Was that what he heard? Voices in the darkness. Guess the maintenance was over... But why? Why did something felt just so completely and terribly wrong?
With a reserved click the maintenance clamp detached and fell away and suddenly he could see again. Except there wasn't much to gaze at - darkness still surrounded him completely, with the exception of a small opening through which a dim light shone. It was unstable, jumping all over the place, as if coming from a hand held lantern... Yes, that's what it was. He could see two men on the other side. They were tearing at the edges of the darkness - making the opening larger. Perhaps soon it would large enough for him to get th- Him? Who's He? What was his name? What was going on...

The light jumped again and for a brief moment it touched his arm. It was for but a fleeting instant, yet it was enough to make out four letters carved into the steel: Ares.

As soon as He read that word the dim light of the lantern turned blindingly bright. So bright it engulfed the whole world in a sea of white. And out of that white, like an unrelenting mountain stream, in flooded the people, the towns and the hills. Leaf by leaf every tree took its place; brick by brick - every house took its. Note by note the music flowed into his mind. The brass of victory and the choirs of triumph. The golden light of the sun shining high above his town - bathing all in it's warmth. the faces of children and the voice of the Precept... and with that Ares remembered.

With a moan of ageing metal Ares ripped himself free of the remaining restraints and struck out at the darkness that bound him. The force of Ares's kick blew the barricade of rubble away as if it were made of straw, taking the two vagabonds with it. For the first time in a thousand years, Ares stepped out of the shadow of his maintenance room, his metal skin, now free of dust, burning in the campfire's light. Three people jumped up and were circling him, their mouths opening as they talked to one another with terrified expressions. Seems his hearing was not back yet. Let's see if his voice was...

"Filthy scoundrels! The Precepts chambers are off limits to your ilk! Leave at once!" - Ares's voice boomed throughout the cavern. Good, at least he still had that.
The men shouted something to eachother then one of them threw down his lantern, drew his sword high and rushed at Ares
"SO BE IT BANDIT SCUM!" - Ares roared and raised his arm to block the strike. The cheap, rusted metal of the sword cried out in a thin voice and snapped in half on the warforged's forearm. The man stumbled back, shocked. Ares threw a quick glance at the other men - on was entangled in trying to load a sling with some stones off the ground, while the other was fumbling with his cloak, drawing a heavy blacksmith's hammer. Without hesitating Ares stepped in, grabbing the dazed swordsman and raising him in the air high above his head.
"YOU SHOULD'VE LEFT WHEN I TOLD YOU!" - Ares gave one last shout and hurled the swordsman with full strength at the thin man with teh slinghshot. The two men collided and went tumbling into the opposite wall with a meaty sound of cracking bone.

By this point the last man finally got the upper hand on his cloak and drew the hammer - rushing at Ares with a twisted expression on his face. For a moment everything seemed to slow down as Ares examined the man. He was big, for a human. the way his muscles were developed and the way he held that hammer... a Blacksmith it seems. Means he's not used to wielding it in combat... good.
As the third man swung down Ares sidestepped him, coming up on his side. No matter how much muscle one has - a human always has a great weakness. Ares's steel fist struck out with well practised speed - hitting the blacksmith squarely in the jaw. Again there was a sound of bone shattering and the burly man went down.

Ares was now the only one left standing in the cavern. Slowly he walked to its entrance and looked out on the forest that lay before him. Only an occasional rough cut stone overgrown with moss showed any signs of a city that once stood there. Even the steps he used to guard were gone. Inch by inch dread and confusion began overtaking Ares. What could have happened? Just how long was he shut down? He promised the children to continue his story today. Are they... still- Wait. Ares's eyes pierced through the darkness and caught a thin clearing running through the trees - must be a road. He turned around to look at the bandits once more. Little to no clothes. No provisions. Light weaponry. They wouldn't dare go far from civilization so ill prepared. Someone must be near.

Setting his mind firmly, Ares relieved the balcksmith's limp body of his cloak and put it over his shoulders. Seeing no knife in sight, he then picked up the broken sword and used it to crudely slash out a long strip of fabric from the man's pants and tied it several times around his waist like a sash. Gods, I hope this cloth won't smell as bad as they looked. Next - the lantern; glass was mostly broken and it was extinguished, but there was still some oil inside. Good, he might need that eventually. Ares hooked the lantern to his sash, and slid the broken sword in as well beside it. Lastly he picked up the blacksmith's heavy hammer and tucked it in at his other side.

"Well. I'm as ready as I can be. Time to get some answers." - Ares spoke out softly to himself, before kicking the pot of bandits' soup over to put on the campfire and heading out into the blackness of the night.

[Kidd]

The steady, thundering hooves on the ground that had been beating against the ground all evening were finally faltering and Eva was forced to allow the horse to slow to a trot and then a walk. She knew she put a lot of distance between herself and what she had called home, but she still looked back over her shoulder to be sure. However, it was dark, and that fact hadn't really registered until now as she squinted her eyes against the blackness. The young lady cursed under her breath and carefully slid to the ground beside War, who sighed heavily and turned his large head to watch her.

The road was clear, but she couldn't quite see any lights or silhouettes indicated that she was near any town; though the moonlight allowed her to distinguish many trees--a forest. "Mm," she hummed, pursing her lips together; the noble was unsure if it was safer to continue to travel the road (she had heard horror stories) or hide in the woods (wolves and bears were less than friendly). She looked to War, as if waiting for his input; and when he only stood sill save for the flick of an ear or tail, she sighed. "You do look tired," she noted. "I'd rather find an inn or town or anything, though." So, she took his reins and continued forward along the road.

[XxLyraxX]

@CreeXLR

Primrose didn't know how long she had been walking for, probably an hour or two at the very least. She was keeping a relatively easily pace, knowing that while she needed hurry to bridge the two day gap between her and the village, she also knew that she couldn't tire herself out so hastily. If she kept this pace hopefully she would reach the village before Orion finished his work and headed back to their camp. She didn't know if the bandits would still be there but she prayed for their sake they weren't if Orion returned only to find he was missing a sister. She only hoped she could get to him before that happen because she didn't need a crazed brother tearing apart everyone in the land as he tried to find her. She sighed. Hope, hope, hope. What good did hope do the world anymore? Hope wasn't going to bring her parents back. Hope wasn't going to right the wrong the evil beings had brought upon. And yet all they had to cling to was hope. Such a fragile emotion. So strong yet sp easily broken with the right words.

She sighed quietly and glanced at the sky to make sure she was going the right way. Suddenly she heard a sound and froze mid-step. She barely tilted her head, ears straining. Boot steps. Loud boot steps. Like something very large was crashing through the bracken and brush. Was it an orge? Troll? What other beings were there that sound that heavy? Being almost as silent as a ghost, Prim headed towards the origin of the sound and almost gasped at what she saw. What in the worlds was this?! She had never seen a metal man before. Was it armor? She didn't know but found herself leaning forwards to get a closer look. She then out a small yelp as the rocks slid out from underneath her feet and she went tumbling down the embankment towards him.

The child stopped a few feet away from him and laid there dazed, right ankle and throbbing in pain from the fall.