EurmalEye — Roleplayer Guild

@The One 
As Drayko roared everyone in the town from the oldest man forever cloistered in his home to the newborn child in its wooden crib would feel a sudden urge of newfound energy and power flow through them. The reactions of the townsfolk varied greatly as the energy began to manifest itself in different ways throughout the crowd. Henrik fell to the ground gasping in pain as his skin began to turn grey and harden. Camilla, who had been running towards the mayor's office found her pumping legs move up off the ground and she stayed floating a food above the ground, attempting to move forward fruitlessly. Alia began to cough clutching at her throat as a black mist began to pour out of her throat hanging in the air around her. Her nails scratched at her throat, eyes watering, as the uncontrollable stream poured out of her, at the same time her hair began to slowly rise above her head, standing of its own accord.

Other reactions seemed much less intense however. Several of the townsfolk simply scattered around the town, another man bearded and rogueish looking simply staggered in surprise but otherwise seemed to remain unaffected glancing down at himself in interest. There were cries from the surrounding buildings as well as all of the villagers and visitors to the town felt the surge of power. Near Drayco and Alia would come a small chittering sound as Leo, Alia's strange pet, ran past the crowd at full speed before leaping onto Alia's chest. The stream of black must ceased almost at once and let out a huge gasp for air, then began panting heavily. She raised her right hand and began to lightly scratch the topside of Leo's mane in appreciation. The black cloud of mist still hung around her, unmoved by the slight wind blowing through the village.

An older woman carrying a cane made her way slowly in front of the dragon before tossing a package near his nose. Alia recognized her at once as Shema her mother's closest friend. Alia flitted her gaze around the crowd but did not see the same telltale hair color that would tell her if her Mother was around. The older woman spat at the ground and in a voice that creaked with age and experience, "This is all the Dragonsbane I have managed to collect around the area for the past ten years is that enough Beast?" Shema looked to Alia with an expression of concern making sure she was alright before kneeling down to examine the still moaning Henrik.

Trygve

Location: Outskirts of Mjors
@AlidaMaria@Jin Of Mana@Scribble Naught

Trygve was walking the perimeter of their camp, shield and hammer in hand looking for potential threats. He could still sense something wrong with the forest, a sense of being watch or possibly of being hunted. He was unused to this sort of environment, back on the shores of Hakaskar his foes had always been easy to see outlined against the sea behind them. But the forest was a different environment altogether, the trees and shadows of the place provided ample cover for any smaller foes to lurk behind unseen. Trygve stopped and turned around, a flash of red in the treeline had caught his eye. As he was about to approach it, a whistling sound flew past him in the air towards the camp. His gaze shot upward in alarm only to see a barrel almost the size of the wagons themselves slam into one spreading oil over encampment. And then the true threat revealed itself. Flaming arrows tipped with some sleek type of bald feather soared past him through the air striking the oil covered allies and wagons. Fire burst forth like a shark catching the scent of blood. The screams of pain and heat of the spectacle seared their own way into Trygve’s memory, never to be forgotten. There was a pale thud in his back as he stood there. Trygve grunted and twisted to get a better look at his back. Another black feathered arrow had sprouted from his left upper shoulder. His armor had taken most of the force from the shot, but it’s poor quality could not halt the full momentum of its piercing power and a new line of red slowly stain his clothes underneath. 

For Trygve, it was a call to action, breaking the hypnotic effect of the despair around him. With a roar he turned around and charged forward with his shield defending him, hammer clutched in his right hand behind him keeping it low to the ground. The patch of red eyes he had seen in the tree what must have been just a moment ago was now clearly visible as a humanoid figure in black, stringing another arrow into a bow. The creature lit the arrow and fired it forward at him. It slammed against his shield with a dull thud, but bounced off leaving Trygve unharmed with the exception of the wound in his back. He let out a savage roar and bashed the creature's weapon and arms away with his shield leaving it open to the massive upward swing of force that was his hammer. There was a sickening squelch as the creature was launched upwards into the air, bones snapping from the force, until it hit a thick tree branch above and its spine snapped, sending it back to the ground dead. Trygve turned with a grunt and looked back towards the camp. 

Several more of the creatures seemed to have infiltrated while he had attacked this one. He could see Ingrid fighting alongside some stranger that he did not know, the stranger screaming obscenities at the creatures. They were in the midst of combat with the creatures weapons flashing silver in the reflection of the firelight. Trygve charged again back into the fray of things, his long and powerful legs closing the distance rapidly. From there was the chaos of battle. Several blows fell against his shield, the attackers were soon met by a single swing of his hammer. Their armor and shields were no match for the blunt force that his arms were capable of producing and the crunch and snap of bone quickly became the only sounds he could hear, the vibrations of his blows traveling up his arms.  There was a yelp of pain from a familiar voice behind him and he turned swiftly. Ingrid had taken a blow in her left arm and was left momentarily without defenses. He moved with the instinct of battle and brought his hammer down against the creatures skull feeling it shatter underneath the blow.

Trygve moved away from the stranger and Ingrid after noting that there were no more enemies left around the latter. With the help of the remaining mercenaries and Thorbrand the remainder of the attackers were driven out. Trygve began to relax and as he did noticed he had not gone through the battle uninjured. Several blows had scored cuts across his skin and an flaming arrow had left a gash on his cheek as well as a missing patch of beard on his face. The largest injuries however were the arrow from earlier still lodged in his back and a knife buried two inches in his upper thigh just narrowly missing causing a fatal wound. It would take him some time to recover, but he would recover unlike many of his allies who had fallen upon the battlefield today. He sent the mercenaries to tend to the wounded and gather any remaining survivors and bodies of comrades. His heart was heavy in his chest, this attack had cost them dearly.

Trygve moved back towards the stranger and Ingrid, to check and see how they had fared in his absence and maybe find some answers. Ingrid was clutching something to her chest, but the stranger was still there. He had done incredible fighting alongside them, but he was still an unknown factor. He approached determinedly calling out, "Hold there! Identify yourself stran-" Trygve cut off as he realized what or rather who Ingrid held in her arms. It was the boy he had given one of his blankets to early in the day, struck dead. Trygve felt the ice in his veins freeze him in place unable to look away. Then the fire started burning in his core, melting the ice away in his anger and grief. He pulled the remains of the blanket from the burnt cart and gently reached down to Ingrid's arms and pulled the child's body away.

"Ingrid, go check on Thorbrand, I will see to the boy." He wrapped up the body in the blanket and cradled it within his hands. He glanced around and grabbed on of the broken carts  still coated in oil and dragged away out of sight. Soon he had lit the makeshift funeral pyre and had the placed the boy before it. The smoke and ash of cremation would carry the boy's soul to its rightful place with the gods, according to tradition. Trygve hoped it would true. He knelt in front of the pure and prayed for the boys soul, damning the creatures that had done this to him and himself for not protecting him. The rage heated as the flames grew higher and Trygve could feel his skin starting to change color as the Beserker's Rage tried to fall around him. Still he prayed, attempting resisting the grief-caused Rage with his willpower and faith, focusing on reaching Odin, the All-Father, with his pleas for the boy's soul.

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