Spoopy Scary

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Woops, okay, things make more sense now. Thanks.

Finch probably looks like he's about to fall over then. He hasn't been wanting to sleep around the others - maybe got a couple hours by accident.

Knights of Melarus

---

Meanwhile, Kane had his own dilemma on hands. He was running through the alleys, trying to find one of his men – the young John March – and cutting his way through wights all the while, and along the way, attempting to evacuate citizens as he searched. The further he put himself into Maceron, the thicker the hordes of wights seemed to be. Between every wight he destroyed and every house he checked, only for the wight to reassemble and the house he searched to be void of survivors and holding only more of the undead, the army he had following him seemed to swell. The people he did evacuate, Kane wasn’t sure if they were able to make it out. The distance between here and there was far, leaving plenty of opportunity for a wight to catch them out.

Damn Daraden, and damn Lutis! Damn their souls, damn them to Death!

And damn Sir Headmaster Fallon! His pride had costed the lives of so many innocents! His pride! The very thought made him entertain the idea of kicking around the lifeless body of that evil man. Not now though, not now! Now he just had to focus on his mission. Save as many as he could. Save John. After so many years as raising him from a mere page, John almost felt like a son. Too old to be Kane’s son, of course, but... who else has Kane had to teach? From the academics, to the code, and life’s own lessons... Kane had to find John.

This kind of search continued along for several minutes longer. Exhaustion was creeping in, sweat running down the sides of Kane’s face, his calves screaming for a rest – the armor he wore felt like a thousand pounds on his back. Doubts were beginning to form in Kane’s head, that he’d ever find him - suddenly, a massive explosion knocked him off of his feet as it shook the ground and the side of his chin scraped against the ground. What the blazes could have caused that! It sounded like twenty cannons going off!

Kane rubbed his chin and looked at his hand - blood was smeared on the leather grips of his gauntlet. He shook it off and looked to see what he hit to cause such damage to himself - a metallic object. He looked more carefully, finding broken links and chains scattered about. Kane’s crew didn’t set this up. This must’ve been John’s work! Looking up, Kane found it was situated in front of a house with its door open, and he could hear a struggle coming from the inside. Kane, with newfound strength and vigor, hurried inside. There he saw a young family, and a young man in armor wrestling with a wight.

“John!” Kane yelled.

“C-captain!” He called back between heavy breaths, and quickly being overwhelmed by the wight’s strength. Kane thrusted his spontoon into the back of the wight’s hissing skull and through the front. With a twist, it snapped clean from the neck it was attached to before, and he slung it out the door.

“Oh, Captain...” John wheezed as he sat on the floor. “Thank Ma’el you came in time! I’m sorry! This sir and lady, they’ve a baby...”

“Say no more, I understand.” Kane assured. “You’ve done so well! I’m glad you’re safe. I’ll take it from here, then we can fall back to the gates. The others are holding it down.”

The family John was just guarding from the attacking wight was grateful as well, issuing the guardsmen their thanks.

“Are they?!” John said ecstatically, clutching his chest as his lungs swelled with each breath. “I... I knew those wights... couldn’t possibly beat you guys!”

“Catch your breath as quick as you can,” Kane urged as John stood up in front of him, “we need to get this family to safety as soon as—“

There was no time to react. Their guard was dropped, and the appearance so sudden and unexpected – a wight crashed through the window from behind, opposite side of the home from the door. Glass shattered and the undead was screeching, the innocent family screaming – it leaped straight onto John’s back. Its bony fingers gripping the edges of his armor, and its teeth sunk straight into the side of young squire’s neck. Instant screaming, blood oozing and bubbling between the skeleton’s teeth.

“John!” Kane shouted. There was no room. No room to move. No room to think. He immediately closed the distance, trying to fight the death grip the wight had on him... but flesh was softer than bone. The wight did not give, but John did. A chunk of meat was ripped from the side of John’s neck and throat, and he immediately fell to the ground. Kane fell on top of the wight, holding it down with one hand, and mustering every ounce of strength he had left powered by his adrenaline – to slam his armored fist into the wight’s head. Bone splintered everywhere. Kane instantly returned to John’s side, following this. He kneeled down, and set John onto his lap. His eyes were already glossing.

“C-Cap... Capt... Kane...” John stuttered weakly as tears welled up in his red eyes. His voice was choking as blood ran down the corner of his mouth and spurted from his neck. His raised his hand toward Kane and began to say, “I...”

His hand fell down to his side.

Kane’s own eyes were red, beginning to well – his bottom lip quivered for a moment as he looked into his squire’s lifeless eyes. He took a deep, sharp breath. He quickly conducted himself in front of the silently crying family as he pulled down the young boy’s eyelids.

“...We must evacuate.” Kane said softly, betraying any attempt at a disciplined composure that most people came to identify him with. As he said this, the screaming and groaning and spits of the horde of wights that had been following him this whole time came into earshot.

“Young John, he—“ The man tried to say, but Kane cut him off.

“We don’t have any time. Sir, please carry my pike and lead the way out the window. The alleyway has been blocked off. I’ll cover our rear... I’ll buy you any time if we need it.”

The man nodded and picked up the spontoon Kane had dropped, then beckoned to his wife, carrying the baby in her arms. Sticking his head out first and holding the spontoon carefully, he was the first out the broken window. The area was clear, and his wife followed. Kane listened to the oncoming tide of undead come closer. He solemnly cradled John’s lifeless body in his arms and climbed through last. He nodded to the family and nudged his head in a direction as a cue to follow his lead. They were able to avoid the massive undead tide coming their way, but it was doubtless that they’d eventually follow some trace of them back to the gates. He only hoped that they could hold off a couple dozen more wights – and at the disadvantage of the devastating news Kane had to deliver. John’s death was not one that was fitting for the morale of their defense. John’s death… it wasn’t fitting of Kane’s own morale. Kane was the one who had sent him alone on his mission.

The route they had taken was unoccupied. Whatever had gone on around here must have taken the wights’ attention from this area. At least the survivors were safe. When the group had finally turned one last corner onto a main road, the main gates came into view, and the force defending against the wight onslaught including the dorak and his beetle, the gnome and his own constructs, and Kane’s own men. A large group of survivors were keeping their distance outside the gates. Slowly, Kane closed his eyes, and regret seeped into his heart.

---

Kane Bounevialle, Anna Strauss, and Pietro Machelli

_{Featuring Kane’s Guard}
Written with @Maxx

---

Anna looked over her shoulder. She ran from Pietro’s side towards Kane, wand in hand.

“Please, good knight,” she said. “I’m a healer. Let me see him! I might be able to do something!”

Kane looked down below to see a young-looking fairfolk girl run up to his side. As she offered her services, he just looked down at the poor lady with a look of sorrow and pity. He shook his head solemnly and took a moment to gather himself before he tried to say something.

“This young squire, John March, has given his life so that this family may live.” Kane answered, gesturing to the young family Kane was escorting. He looked back at Anna. “He’s gone now…” Anna stood in silence. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. She concentrated on feeling the air around her, sensing the presence of those in her vicinity. It was a soul weaver’s trick, one that Cosmas had taught her for sensing the life force in another living thing. In her mind’s eye, she could see the people around her as energy waves, pulsating like the ripples in a pond. She could feel their hearts beat and their aether course through their nerves. No such energy resonated in John. He was truly dead. Her wings visibly drooped. Her mouth hung open for what must’ve been thirty seconds. Her face turned a shade paler.

“I-I’m so sorry, Sir Kane,” Anna said. “There’s... truly nothing I can do.”

Kane could only bring himself to nod to Anna, most likely a thanks for her consideration, but truthfully Kane found it hard to keep his mind straight and was mostly passing around acknowledgement where it was required. He made his approach toward the rest of the defense, and his own men were bowing their heads.

“He will be cremated.” Kane called out to his allies. “ As Daraden has proven himself a powerful enemy that none of Creation can afford to overlook, we might have to leave old traditions and ceremonies behind… such as burial... and look ahead towards the future and embrace new practices.” Kane sighed. “We will no longer be taking the kind of risks our predecessors have taken.”

Kane handed the corpse to Oscar, who gently handled John’s body as he made an even pace outside the gates. Kane quietly watched his dear friend from behind as he carried Kane’s squire outside of Maceron. Anna watched in silence. She had no idea what to say. She looked down at the silver vial in her hand, and then up at Kane. She noticed that he was bleeding.

“Oh, you’re bleeding sir! Here, let me heal your wounds.” She said. Curiously, Kane brushed his chin and along his jawline. Indeed, it had stung painfully - he had forgotten about the fall he had just before he found John in that small house.

“Thank you,” Kane began humbly, but gently set her hands down with his own, “but my wounds are minor. I would be grateful if you would see to the survivors outside Maceron’s gates, though. Many of them were wounded when they tried to escape.” Anna looked out at the survivors who were sitting just outside. Many of them were leaning against houses, bleeding and broken. Some of the villagers who lived in the homes outside the walls had taken people in. Nurses and a wizard or two who had escaped were tending to some wounds. Anna looked at the silver vial. It contained Essence of Mercy, a mixture of unicorn blood, bat saliva, and a few other substances. It was exceptionally rare, but excelled at stopping bleeding and repairing damaged tissue. She looked back at the city. There were still people who needed to be evacuated. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this. Then she ren of towards

“Wait.” Kane said before Anna wandered off. “What is your name?” Anna turned her head as she ran.

“My name is Anna,” she said.

“Thank you, miss Anna.” Despite the mortal peril, Anna couldn’t help but smile. She felt her cheeks blush.

Anna jogged over to a house where a wizard was busying himself over a patient with severe wounds. She tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, a frown on his face. His hands were covered with blood. Anna held the vial out to him.

“I am a healer from Lake Castus,” Anna said. “I have other obligations to take care of in the city, but I figured this would be useful to you. It is a vial of Essence of Mercy.” The doctor looked at her funny and, realizing she was serious, took it.

“Thank you, young Fairy,” he said, rather shocked. “This will be exceedingly helpful.” Then she turned back and flew off into the city. Pietro was on his feet now, his sword drawn.

“I’m going to go find Arya,” Pietro said. Anna nodded.

“I’m going back in, as well,” Anna said. “We need to find as many survivors as we can. What of you, Sir Kane?”

“I…” Kane hesitated. This girl was still calling him Sir long after he was stripped of his knighthood. He supposed his name must have carried far. No matter, that wasn’t important now. He felt compromised for the time being after John’s death, but… Kane felt compelled to do what he could just to get his mind in order. He had to distract himself - and he owed it to John to get as many people out of this city as he could.

“I cannot advise you to go back into Maceron without escort.” Kane told her. “My men will remain here to hold the line… I’ll personally see to your safe return.” Anna turned her head and tried very hard not to blush. Pietro caught sight of her cheeks reddening and rolled his eyes. ‘Girls and their damn dreams of dashing knights,’ he thought to himsef. ‘She should be swooning over a real man.’

“W-why, thank you, sir Kane,” Anna said. “I certainly feel safer now.”

“It’s just Captain, now.” Kane corrected.

“Uh, oh, Oh! My apologies,” she said. “I assumed…” she looked down at the ground. Pietro walked over to where they stood.

“Alright, let’s rain down Ma’el’s vengeance on these undead sons of bitches!” Pietro said. “Mad necromancer or no, we have to do what we can! When the dust clears, they will proclaim us heroes of the city! Ah ha ha!”

Knights of Melarus

I have off tomorrow so I can write all night and into tomorrow.

Knights of Melarus

This gravy train doesn't stop for apple slices floating up the brown.

@SepticGentleman

Literally die.

Knights of Melarus

_{featuring Bartleby de LaShtüp}

---

Amidst the fighting, the running, the screaming and the rescuing - in fact, underneath it all, hiding from it and watching through a crack from under his own coffers in his carriage was Wizzlebee. Indeed, he had hardly moved from his spot and was totally hidden from the hungry armies of undead. He knew the weaknesses of wights like no other, and it pained him to see so many fall to the wights as a result of his own inaction - but Wizzlebee was old! Yes, that was his excuse, far too old to defend himself against so many of these things. If one knew of what he's capable of, then they might ask, "Why not just take control of them?" Well...

He tried. From the safety of his hidey-hole, of course, but he tried. However, whoever was able to control so many undead (probably that Daraden guy) had great power. So much power, in fact, that their influence over one wight with his attention split between what was likely thousands gave way to a couple of conclusions: one being, Wizzlebee's necromancy was actually useless beyond simply turning the undead away - which is what he has been doing when a eight got too close for comfort, but didn’t often have to do, for he smelled so much like the dead that barely any of them noticed the gnome hiding - and two, that such ease of control over such large numbers must have meant that Daraden was a lich. Only one of the dead could have such precise understanding and control.

The epiphany, needless to say, had terrifying implications.

On a pettier note, the old Scrooge made it difficult to use this as an opportunity to really study the undead, with what's left of their minds being controlled and their bloodthirsty rampage being quite the distraction, forcing you to focus on your own well-being. If he could glean anything from them, it's that the presence of aether in them was immense and concentrated. It supported that Daraden was a force to be reckoned with. It'd take nothing less than Ma'el's own fury; it seemed, to eliminate such an adversary.

With Wizzlebee was his own skeleton, risen it himself, he did! But this one was special, see. His father's soul, the great Bartleby, head of the long lost and noble LaShtüp family, bound to the rattling, bony body. Weaving aether and gnomish enchantment together, giving his long lost "pappy" another opportunity - if a bit of a short-sighted attempt, having risen him in a skeletal form. With Wizzlebee, Bartleby hid with him. Not because the wights threatened him, no, but they were quite scary.

...Also, the guard with the crossbow atop the beetle and the half Orc were quite eager to shoot or dice up anything that wasn't alive. Such was the way of things.

"The great alchemist and necromancer, mighty be his name, hiding away in his coach's dress box." Bartleby snipped flamboyantly.

"I'm not as young as I used to be!" Wizzlebee complained in his defense. "One, three fire balls and it'll be the end of me before you know it! Swarmed!"

"Now you're just selling yourself short!" Bartleby groaned. "Get creative, you dumb wizard!"

"Dumb?! Oh, I'll show you..." Wizzlebee grumbled. Creative. Yeah, okay, a couple of things came to mind.

The old gnome pushed open the lid to the box he hid in, only for his head to have risen above the edge of the box by an embarrassing few inches, a few miles short of impressive. With a couple of huffs, Wizzlebee climbed over the edge and onto his seat, viewing the field on which the knights, guards, and wights took battle. So many dead, but so few wights in comparison were slain. He made an exhausted sigh and closed his eyes, letting the magical energy that flowed through him concentrate in his hands. He lacked the firepower that any specialized wizard had over their respective elements. But what he does have...

Sparks crackled between his fingers before they erupted into flames, and a ring of fire began swirling around him. One hand poised as if he were holding something, fingers flared outward.

...What he did have was skill.

With his other hand, Wizzlebee merely pointed his finger. A highly pressurized gust of hydrogen, taken from the air, went through the ring of fire and instantly ignites as the bolt flew across the square and penetrated the skull of a wight. Wizzlebee’s pointing finger turned into a fist and widened it into an open palm. The fire ball rapidly expanded, causing a miniature explosion to occur from the pressure inside the wight skull. Its bones flew off in every direction, and they remained still where they had landed.

“Dumb wizard, my hind!” Wizzlebee declared indignantly. He did this to two more wights before he started catching their attention. Some of the wights peeled off from the assaulting force occupying Oscar and Karkadin. This was what Wizzlebee was worried about! The ring of fire from around the gnome dissipating, and making a motion like tugging a rope, water came from thin air – taken from the fog enveloping Maceron, and a small stream ran swiftly around Wizzlebee – another ring. Without the firepower a water mage might have, Wizzlebee resorted to manually accelerating the flow of the water around him, as though he were constantly dragging it. With each move of his hands, the water spun faster. When the first wight came into range, the current simply broke the bonds holding the bones together, and got swept up in his ring. In the water’s flow were bones of all sorts, unable to reassemble.

Two other wights stayed where they were, unable to cross the swiftly running water. Wizzlebee capitalized on their inaction by shooting the bone meshed water at them in a jet – the pressure was enough to break them apart and keep them from reassembling a few moments longer. The gnome raised his hands, and shards of earth, from the brick-layed streets slowly contained the broken wights in a prison too small for them to reassemble in and will remain until destroyed. Here, Wizzlebee began to pant.

“Oh... oh boy!” He whined. “Can’t... can’t keep up with all the young folk anymore.”

“Nonsense!” Called the voice from below. “You’re doing fine!”

“Can you even see?!”

“You know I’m afraid of skeletons!”

Wizzlebee looked behind him incredulously. “What?! You...!”

The elderly gnome shook his head and set his focus back on the playing field. Well, he was getting tired, but there were so many wights left! What to do... golems wouldn’t permanently destroy them, if only enchantments could create golems that were made of anything that wasn’t a solid and... ah, wait... aether was a binding force. What did the book say?

‘Aether is the force that binds all of the world together. To understand aether, you must understand the world it lives in – you must understand its container. Master the elemental magics.’

Well, the last bit was poppycock. He wondered if he was the first to circumvent the prerequisites for learning aether. Perhaps nobody thought to look at alchemy as an example or template for aether. Still, aether was a binding force. Able to tether supposedly intangible forces such as souls to itself to create spirits, and to tangible objects to create ensouled.

Wizzlebee took a long, deep breathe. More hordes of wights were approaching. Damn this day to the world’s end! A fireball erupted in both of Wizzlebee’s hands. They were slung in the direction of the wights charging towards him, and they predictably flared out in a very tame explosion, but the intended effect was to produce as much fire as he could. This was accomplished. In front of the fire that was burning the wights’ bones, Wizzlebee closed his eyes and began his familiar breathing exercises. With a substance such as fire, he’ll need as much help as he could get. He let the aether flow through his body and opened his eyes with a mystical pink mist just barely visible around them. From here, he could see and sense all the aether flowing around him. The wights were particularly blinding, with so much aether stuffed into every one of them. He could easily sap what he needed.

The old gnome moved his hands very cautiously and meticulously, not wanting to mess this up. Weaving and blending fire and aether together, letting the invisible energy wrap itself around the flames, giving it form. The symmetry that both hands conducted created two human shaped funnels of fire. With a final flick of his wrists, a spark, an attempt at gnomish enchantment to give artificial “life” or independent action to the given forms.

Wizzlebee’s hands fell to his sides in exhaustion. Between wheezes, he said, “That... that is too—too much!”

Trying to balance so many actions at once was a strain on his stamina, especially when the ingredients involved were so physically complex. With the slightest glimmer of hope, he looked up to see if he had truly fumbled at his attempt, not expecting anything to come of it... but there stood two fiery funnels of man-shaped golems, ever-burning, apparently inextinguishable. They stood idely. Wizzlebee’s face turned into a tired, gleeful, and innocent smile as he pointed toward all the wights terrorizing Maceron and commanded their permanent deaths; and as ordered, the golems obediently shot fire from their own bodies in concentrated bolts, incinerating the oblivious undead – unable to detect the non-physical golems as semi-conscious beings – into ash.

Bartleby joined in his son’s relieved laughter. An unnerving cacophony of glee in the face of horror.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

@Spoopy Scary Would you be interested in a Fiona/Finch collab? If you're not working/involved with something already.

@Luminosity

Yeah, absolutely! I usually use TitanPad/PiratePad, are you okay with that?

Knights of Melarus

A nicer way of putting it: the show must go on!

Knights of Melarus

I'm slowly getting the characters together. Will write Wizzlebee tomorrow. He's doing something a lot less impressive than fighting or protecting citizens. : ^)

Knights of Melarus

Kane Bounevialle and Karkadin Gatoa

_{featuring Kane's Guard}
Written with @SepticGentleman

---

Kane felt himself grow furious following Sir Fallon's words. Would he truly sacrifice so many in the name of his own hubris? In case he was unable to tell, the people were already panicked - there were hordes of monsters invading their homes, standing at the ready for whatever catalyst that might trigger the wights' wrath. With his fists clenched, Kane marched forward after Sir Fallon - he was ready to finally speak his mind to that pompous ass, tell Fallon what he really thought, then tell him to lay away in some stable with that horse he loved to ride on so much. However, as he raised his finger, no words came out of his mouth. Nothing but dry silence. In fact, it was not just him, but the entire town had gone utterly mute. A looming darkness crawled from behind Kane, and the captain turned to look behind him, from where that darkness emanated. A sliver of light had penetrated from behind the veil, swirling around until the darkness that shrouded the city had fallen upon itself and sound had returned to Maceron. It formed the silhouette of a human figure.

Kane's hand instinctively went to the pommel of his sword. His spontoon was not currently with him.

When Lutis had appeared, in that ghastly form of robes and chains and the golden armaments of demons, his very presence made a chill crawl up Kane's spine. He spoke of his master Daraden and of his decree - and the unconditional surrender of Talbor. Kane and his own guard looked at one another uncomfortably. Never would they accept such a term. To think that any person would come in and expect such was unthinkable - and yet here they were, making that very demand. Kane would have joined the others in their flagrant mockery of Lutin...

...were it not for the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of wights surrounding them at this very moment. It was doubtless they were without connection, as was confirmed later in his negotiation with King Victor.

When Sir Fallon's knights moved to fall upon Lutin, they were restrained by magical chains that had appeared from nowhere! It seemed only moments later that the defiance of a wounded Sir Fallon was cut short by Lutin's power. An unceremonious end to a corrupt villain's story, as it were. Kane's eyes were like a deer's as all that he had known became irrelevant in the face of Talbor's newest enemy. As Lutin declared a final threat against King Draco, he vanished in a puff of smoke, and the dead began moving amidst a chorus of screams.

---

All fell to chaos in seemingly moments. The darkness enveloping the city and suddenly retreating, the ominous hooded figure making his address, the wights growing indomitably restless and breaking through their chains, all setting their attention on the nearest living thing and engaging them. As expected, Bruk was one of the largest targets around, so he had a veritable crowd acting upon him. Karkadin reared back and drew his spear as the wights came close, swinging the thick of the shell at two of them before clambering up the beetle's shell and taking seat atop the creature.

Oscar, still nearby, was nearly overwhelmed by the sudden first wave. However, he was stronger than he looked and was able to support the weight and the force of the clamoring dead from beneath a metal plated tower shield. With a great heave with his whole body, the guardsman threw a good half-dozen skeletal monsters off of him and drew a leaf-bladed gladius from his sheath with his back to Karkadin's beetle. Caught flat-footed, Oscar was wild-eyed as he quickly looked around the battlefield assessing the danger - a wight flung itself on top of Oscar, where he then threw it several feet away, and was continuously harassed by a stream of undead that Oscar had previously dealt with. With moves and footwork surprisingly nimble with the kind of armor Oscar donned, he decapitated the first, shield bashed the second, and with the bash, twirled his feet so that he spun and he could place an armored foot behind the feet of the third that came towards him, and met it with a backhand to the side of its skull. The third fell over, and Oscar took his other boot and crushed the wight's sternum.

These damages were nothing that could keep them down, but buy him enough time while they reassembled. Oscar's eyes fell upon his comrades - Kane, Sten, and Alexander forming a triangle with their backs to each other, moving with each other as naturally as flowing water. Even in defending themselves from overwhelming numbers and great strength, their skill was so that they overshadowed the rudimentary prowess of the city's standard guard. Oscar turned a second to watch Karkadin climb his beetle and defend himself with his spear and the beetle's own strength.

"My Doraki friend!" Oscar yelled over the chaos. "All of the wights we tried to contain have broken loose, there are too many! I suggest we rally with my team!"

Karkadin nodded in reply and yelled back to Oscar, "Get on!"

As strange as it was for the guardsman, Oscar knew there was no time for hesitation. A quick sheathing of his sword and shield, Oscar gripped the chitinous shell of the beetle. As he did so, a wight grabbed onto his leg - a quick kick to its head had rid him of the monster and he finally pulled himself onto Bruk's back. Beside Karkadin, Oscar brandished his javelin.

"Venka!" Karkadin called out, pointing his spear in the direction of Kane and his men. Bruk reeled back and kicked his legs out, pushing back the wights at his side, and then charged forth as he did before. Dozens of the abominations were trampled underneath him as he headed in the direction his master indicated, though they reformed shortly after. Some attempted to grapple onto his side, but Karkadin and Oscar were both doing a fair job of keeping them off. Bruk bashed his way forth, his horn causing wights' bodies to practically explode as they came into contact. Within moments, Bruk was near the trio, and put down half of the surrounding forces to buy them a bit of breathing room. "Nasi!" Karkadin called out, and Bruk took a stand where he was.

"What in blazes?" Sten swore as sweat dripped down from his nose. He looked down at the sound of a wight reassembling itself at his feet, before crushing the hissing skull once more with an aggravated stomp of his boot.

"Aha!" Alexander cheered at the sight of his comrade riding atop Karkadin's mount next to a mole man. "Oscar, is that you?! Atop an ankro bertis, no less! I fought me one o' these things before!"

The half-orc, even amidst the chaos of the battle, managed to spare a moment for blissful reminiscence. Then there was Kane, his bastard sword in hand, looking up to see a sightly scene - one he could not be more glad to see at such a time like this. True to form, however, Kane cut straight to business.

"Oscar! If you and your friend can stay with Sten and try to keep a clear around the gates for the people to flee through, Alexander can go around and cut paths and evacuate some of the citizens. I need to find John and help those along the way!"

There was a slight of hesitation in Oscar, but he knew that Kane was the sort that thought everything through, wrack his brain with everything he's got. Perhaps they had finally found a hopeless situation.

"Yes sir."

"Oscar," Kane continued, "there's an old gnome in a carriage in the corner of the square. I believe he can help you."

"An... old gnome?"

"Have faith!" Kane called as he turned and began his run through an alleyway. He disappeared in its crevices, followed by the sounds of shrieking wights, which were soon cut short. Sten looked to Oscar, throwing his hand up for help getting on top of the beetle, inviting himself on. Karkadin proceeded to turn his head and point his spear towards the gates Kane made mention of, and once again called out, "Venka!" Bruk's mandibles clicked loudly as he picked up speed and battered down more and more wights along the path. Once they reached the gates, Karkadin shouted back to Oscar and Sten, "Get off!" And he did so himself, before they could follow his action.

"Gnome, gnome..." Oscar muttered to himself as he slid down Bruk's shell. He found the carriage off in the corner, but whoever was there must have fled some time ago - because it was empty. With no other lead, Oscar gave up that order and situated himself beside Karkadin. Though short next to the Dorak's towering height, he no less stalwart with the heavy armor and great shield at his disposal. He poised himself in a defensive stance, with the edge of his sword gliding against a curved-in corner of his shield.

Sten, however, remained where he was on top of Bruk. His sword was sheathed, but in its place was a heavy looking crossbow and a bolt being notched on its string. Several other bolts were being latched onto a revolving conveyor - a contraption inspired by long time enemy Ignia and their weaponry. With each shot, a gear turned shortly after and moved the conveyor so that a bolt would be set in the crossbow's rail. A lever action crank was at the crossbow's side that helped to pull the string most of the way back.

"Just keep an eye on Alex in case he forgets he's not supposed to die out there." Sten commented as he took aim into the horde of wights. In the distance, one was chasing a man. In the man's panic, he tripped on the road's brickwork. Before the wight had a chance to fall upon him, it's skull exploded as a bolt shot out from the powerful crossbow. Sten cranked the lever and pulled the string the rest of the way himself. Oscar looked into the distance, and was barely able to make out the face of the man Sten had just saved.

Karkadin, however, failed to notice Sten's remaining on top of the beetle before he turned and called out, "Divae!" It was only then he saw Sten taking aim, but it was too late. Bruk immediately began to act on his own accord, making short charges at the surrounding wights, spinning and sweeping his horn to toss them aside. This, of course, made for very poor footing for the man riding atop of him. Bruk was no horse, not like Sten was used to. Straddling the smooth chitinous surface was something of a chore, but Sten was nothing if not an accomplished marksman and equestrian.

When he slid forward, he found himself at the base of the head with his back against the shell, snuggled between Bruk's two elytra panels. The movements were erratic and wild - maybe something like a wild horse, but more skittish, uncontrollable, and alien - but the beetle could move all he wanted. All Sten needed was to keep himself braced and compensate for his aim.

Oscar stood his ground beside Karkadin, stealing glances at his new ally when he could spare the time between cutting down savage wights. The Dorak was capable, keeping wights at a distance, some of them even turning themselves into kebabs, but weighing down his spear. Which Karkadin would promptly slide them off with his foot and get straight back into action. Karkadin's skill warranted further questions of where he came from - but Oscar was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth in his time of need! All that mattered was allowing survivors to escape Maceron. As Alexander cut swathes through the horde, going from house to house, more and more survivors began to making a run for the gates. Sten covered their escape from atop Bruk, shooting down any chasers.

"How are you holding up, my friend!" Oscar yelled out, keeping several wights at bay with his shield - his own weight was too much for them to push back while he kept himself rooted. From behind his shield, it was easy pickings to sink his blade into their heads. As long as their attention was on them, that was one less wight chasing the survivors - but as they attracted more wights, the objective of defending the gates grew harder. Karkadin was somewhat preoccupied, and his delayed answer of "Fine!" came after he kicked back a wight running at him with a club.

---

_@Maxx

---

Kane had to find John.

A young man like him with only his own hands to defend himself wasn’t going to last long alone. His training was far from done and was only up to par to the guardsmen of the city, and well... they were dropping like flies. Every time he had to step over one of their helmets, Kane’s heart sunk. The wights may be higher populated in the square, but even back in the alleys, the density was nearly unbearable. With each wight charging themselves at him, Kane felt more and more run down – and they would keep getting back up, only to follow a short while later. Along with this, each step of the way, he’d barge into whatever home or building and evacuate whoever resided in there – or slew, whichever of the two came first. He had to get as many people out of this town as he could.

He came back to the one side street where they had rounded up one selection of wights before. None of them remained; they had dispersed since then, hunting down whatever living being they could find... the nightmarish fiends. But more immediately pressing was the massive scorch mark on the ground, as if an explosion or a fire had taken place here. Now that he thought about, a number of loud noises rang up around the city but was too busy trying to fight off the swarm of wights to do or think anything about it. Blackened bones were littered about.

Blackened bones... were littered about.

Kane’s plan was to burn up what he rounded together, simply out of hope – but was it really the secret for keeping these guys down? He eyes traveled up and down this alley curiously, before a glint of light flickered from the ground. There it laid, his spontoon, on the ground and against the wall. With these things wearing him down, keeping distance was becoming more and more important. As he approached it, a wight jumped out from another alley from the side. With a side swipe of its rusted hatchet, Kane’s sword was ripped from his hand by the wight’s superior strength, and the wight moved in for the kill. Kane moved to grab the creature’s wrists, fighting it in a grapple as its skull moved inches closer. He felt its unnatural strength pressing upon him, slowly and barely moving Kane back toward the wall. He was being overpowered.

Kane roared as he swung around, holding the wight by the wrists, and using the creature’s own strength against it, slamming it against the stone wall that was once behind him. The wight’s bones were rattled, and it was immediately thrown onto the ground – Kane used their inertia to go down with him, using his armored forearm to crush the wight’s neck, and his knee shattered various ribs. The wight’s head began rolling off, before the invisible threads connecting them started to slowly reassemble itself. Kane, with great haste, grabbed his sword and sheathed it, then lunging for his spontoon. The half-pike, now in his possession, felt like the most natural form of the entire Knights’ arsenal.

Kane hurried back to the storage house in front of the great scorch mark to check for survivors. Inside, he found a South Nepharian man with a rapier, and a young fairfolk woman behind him – and a number of recognizable citizens behind those two. A few hopeful, though silent whispers chattered through them.

“It’s Kane...!”

“Sir Bounevialle?”

“You must hurry!” Kane urgently said to them, taking deep breaths between words. His eyes looked as though he were still in the middle of a battle and stray locks of hair fell into his face. “My men have taken point at the main gates; there you can evacuate the city! I had fell the wights on the way, but they won’t be down for long! Come, go!”

The wight that he had taken down earlier and risen faster than expected, and leaped onto Kane’s back; Kane was quick to react though, and slammed his back into the corner of the doorway, causing the wight’s bones to shatter in several places. It let go, and Kane took the shaft end of his spontoon to violently bludgeon it to the ground, and its bones scattered across the alleyway. This time it won’t be back up for a while. As quickly as Kane had come, he had left, pressing his charge down the way in search of John.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

I might post later - later, y'all - to have Finch join our elf friend so you're not alone, what with dirty street rats not generally welcomed or comfortable in the company of others. Would make for interesting interaction considering his racism.