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Fantasy Banners & Blood (Closed)

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After acknowledging Iiolete with a nod, she had returned to the caravan to idly feed her mare and give the appearance of being too occupied to talk. Rubbing the horses velvet nose, her ears twitched as her eyes saw the soft glow of the campfire, accompanied by a faint song. She blinked, the singing stopped, but the beacon remained.

Before she could take a step, the light was gone, blocked by a presence inches away from where she stood. She turned, blinking, and it was gone. In its place, a scene that spelled death. Darkness poured in. Immediately, Faythe stood in fighting form, a weapon in each hand with her teeth bared. She swung her daggers against the blackness, but she seemed to only cut through air--the shadows reforming immediately after each assault. Angry at her uselessness, she swung blindly, the translucent blackness seeming to smirk at her wasted effort.

There was nothing physically imposing about Faythe Leander: also known as Madam Fuzz, Kittenclaws, and a myriad of nicknames that became sillier as they went on. Though her collection of scars rivaled most battle-hardened warriors and males seemed to think her pretty enough, the abandoned princess had the same light-colored hair and small build as a thousand other Silvestri women. Human girls, however, have always been tall--a full hand taller than Faythe by the time she trained with them as an adolescent. That meant they could run faster, reach farther than Faythe, much to her frustration when she was the only non-human apprentice of a strict swordsman. Once, one of the girls had managed not only best Faythe at sparring, but to take her practice knife away and hold it over her head, taunting Faythe to jump for it while the other noblemen's daughters laughed. Faythe, all four stones of her at the time, had punched the girl hard in the gut, grabbed not only her own but the girl's wooden dagger, and ran as fast as she could while the girl struggled to breathe.

Almost two decades later, for Faythe Leander, that was still the extent of her strategy. She took what he wanted, however she could get it, leaving the details and aftermath for others to deal with.

Her attentions were torn away by the sight of two of the other girls being towed deeper in the woods, with Ash not far behind. Snarling, Faythe chased after them, leaving the shadows to be destroyed by someone capable enough to destroy them. She could help what was real, and left the rest to the Fates. She sprinted after her comrades, nimbly avoiding tangled branches and gnarled roots, her mind only trained on what was being taken from her.

She was going to vomit: that was the only thing Faythe could think. This was a nightmare so awful that she was going to be sick before she could stop running. Either vomit or suffocate, or do both at once.

Grammatic Grammatic
Ronan Ronan
Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
WlfSamurai WlfSamurai
 
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Damn! Figures something interesting would happen the moment I walked away! Elias spun on his heel, all his focus on following the sound of screaming as a poor soul got stolen away.

"No point," Elias replied to Tanner plainly, focused more on the screams than Finch and the Ranger. "The beasts aren't there anymore. Instead, We must follow the cries of their victims!" With a sudden burst of speed, faster than one might think him capable of, Elias took off in the direction he heard the cries coming from, covering his mouth and nose with the leather mask he kept around his neck, a bloodthirsty grin plastered on his face. Elias maintained this breakneck pace for but a few minutes, his mind lost in thoughts of his impending Hunt, though his subconscious took note of any tracks left behind and adjusting his course accordingly, chasing after screams, drag marks in the mud, and the scent of unnatural blood.

It wasn't the source of the screaming Elias encountered first, however, but an injured Ash, with her rapier embedded in the ground with one hand and her gladius clutched in the other, blood dripping from its blade. Near her moved the creature that had dragged her out this far. Though its form was obscured, Elias could tell Ash had managed to gouge it deeply, the thick, pungent smell of blood hanging in the air.

A sickly-sweet smell that can drive a man to madness.

"Ah, I see the Hunt has begun! Please, allow me to join in the revelry!" Elias's voice growled, his voice muffled slightly by his mask. As if on command, the blades at the end of his saw began to spin rapidly, sparks flying from between the mechanisms. The beast—or whatever kind of creature it may be, still hidden by the fog—roared back, angry at its wound and the interruption, and the two charged one another, bloodied teeth and screeching metal the only discernible things amidst the fog. Elias laughed maniacally, completely oblivious to everything but his prey.

 
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Tanner watched Elias run off into the woods, his eagerness unsettling Tanner. Took a special kind of person to take joy in these types of events, and Tanner had long ago decided to not fully trust that type of person. While Elias ran after Ash, Tanner jogged into the woods on the opposite side of the road, going after the creature that had dragged Nemeia off. The sound of laughter behind him gave him confidence the other side was being dealt with well enough. Seeing Faythe running in one direction, Tanner took a different path to cover more ground.

Ducking under a low hanging branch, Tanner spotted a large shape at the bottom of a tree, the fog distorting what exactly it was. Knocking an arrow, Tanner leaped forward, prepared to snap off a shot. However, what was there instead brought a curse to his lips. Leaned up against the tree was Nemeia, a large section of her neck torn out. The blood was still pooling beneath her, her death hadn't been long ago. Slumped to the side of her, one of the monsters was perched over a log, a dagger protruding from its skull. She had managed to kill her foe in the end. Slinging his bow over his back, Tanner crouched down and picked her up, before jogging back to the caravan.

Coming back to the road, Tanner approached the lead wagon, opening the back before delicately putting Nemeia inside. A shadow passing over him kicked him into motion, flipping his bow off his back and knocking an arrow, spinning on his heel, and firing in a single continuous motion. One of the monsters had launched itself from the tree cover above at Tanner's exposed back, but now found an arrow lodged squarely in its neck. Landing on the ground oddly, the monster let out a pained whine before running back into the tree cover.

Knocking another arrow, Tanner walked sideways towards the front of the wagon, coming to Raes. "We are sitting ducks here. Get the wagons to that fire! It will let us see them coming." Tanner didn't wait for a response, instead running into the woods after his wounded prey.

WlfSamurai WlfSamurai Aimless Vagabond Aimless Vagabond marshmarrow marshmarrow
 
Angel walked down the same road alone, minding his own business. He was thinking of a way to get to places faster instead of having to travel on foot. Though it was good exercise and helped kept him in shape, it takes him a fairly long time to reach a town or village.

"Maybe designing a mechanical horse would be a great option." Angel thought as he wandered the road aimlessly. "With the right materials, I should be able to create a decent horse within a day or two. I would just need to ask the next place I visit about the materials."

Angel's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of screaming and yelling about 20 yards in front of him. Angel then realized how dense the fog around him was. It was so hard to see but he did see something shining bright through the dense fog.

"That has to be a fire since it shines through the fog. But what about the screaming and yelling? Maybe someone is in trouble." Angel started to run towards the burning light. He was trying to think of every possible problem that would have a fire in it. Angel would just have to see when he gets there. Though if he needed to help the person, he would need to avoid making eye contact with them in order to prevent himself going into his vampire form and then having to hide because he would be hunted by every single hunter in the world.
 
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The fight ended as quick as it begun and Ash watched as the beast hit the ground with the thud of a corpse being tossed into the dirt; a successful hunt by Elias. The death gave her time to recover and to reassess her surroundings: Rapier. Injuries. Nemeia. Wagon. In order, she un-lodged her rapier from the dirt and with her other hand, checks her desiccated gladius with dark blood slipping off it's tip. As always, the gladius served her in clutch moments; she was able to swipe at the creature and grant time for her chasers to catch up.
Now with both weapons in a hand, she reconnects the hilts together to restore it's original design: Caladbolg, the bifurcated blade.

Now with the beast dead, she breaths a sigh of relief, her loose silver hair hanging in tendrils and dispensing a seemingly ethereal glow against the dim fog. Surely, Elias could understand the need for a moment. Her head still spun from all that happened.

Ash wiped the dirt from her face and sat down with the leaves crunching at her knees, brown and disintegrating beneath her weight and body complaining against the pain of her injuries. 'Thank you,' she whispers. 'That was—'
wild. In the span of ninety seconds, she had been yanked to the ground, launched into the air, slammed back again, and dragged mercilessly into the woods.
She remembers a pain in her chin when she was forced to the ground and lifts the back of her hand to rub it; there it was, the suspected skin peeling and dirt in the wound. But as she sat there, new pain forming in her forehead. The force of everything almost gave her a concussion and she could feel the presence of one coming, like a door cracked and waiting for the person within to emerge.

Ash moves her hand away and turns to look at the creature behind her, visible and clear as day with it's ugliness. 'A wolf,' she observed, the forest silent except for the monotonous song of branches groaning, her words, and the smell of decay. 'But also ... not quite.' She brushes the wolf's snout, bloody from Elias' saw. It's fur was like sandpaper, soft upon studying, but rough against the fingertips.

The wolf is a wolf, but not a wolf. 'An Eldritch wolf, maybe. It has no eyes meaning that all it’s senses are channelled into smell.' It was clever she had to admit. The Eldritch wolf was touched by evolution, their kind had evolved to be sightless in the forest that no one could see.

She turns back around, looking up to Elias and the third figure emerging from the fog: Faythe. Had she really decided to come this way? If anything, Ash suspected the rest of the hirelings to pursue Nemeia and Alysha. The birds of feather. 'I need sometime to help me back to the wagon. As you can see,' she said mildly as she hinted at her left foot that was torn and disfigured. It didn't bleed (her magic. She would never suffer from blood loss), but she was sure she saw bone when she moved her foot. Painful. 'I'm unable to walk.'

Her eyes darted back back and forth between Elias and Faythe, the hunter and Silvestris. They needed to get back to the wagon and she needed to throw whoever set off the barrels to the wolves.

'Faythe—care to be my support?'

 
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Iiolete

Atop her wagon, Iiolete swore to
herself. There were more of them than she’d expected and they came quicker than she’d supposed. A little inkling of guilt arose in the corner of her mind. If she’d gotten her helmet out she’d have seen them coming, but she didn’t and now people were dead or dying. Iiolete suppresses that nasty line of thought to focus instead on her plan. It could work, it still would work.

It took but a second to aim and fire the first round down range into the first of many of the target barrels. Her own little concoctions repurposed from simple explosives to spewing hot pitch to be scattered.

The barrel is impacted by the red hot burn-round. Igniting the barrel which promptly explodes, throwing flame onto tree and brush. Iiolete without stopping to watch, fires two pore rounds, emptying her advanced rifle to switch to another preloaded. Now she stopped, looking to take stock of what was going on.
 
Voxi was sitting on the gross, muddy ground and leaning against the wagon. He did not have a single care in the world for what was going on around him. "It would be wonderfully appreciated if you could avoid burning down a forest while we're on our job." He sighed, disappointed. The explosions were quite loud, which is why he was seemingly so annoyed at Iiolete. It was for causing such a ruckus. He didn't really care for the forest at all. He finally decided it was time he do something, so he started with searching for Alysha. Or at least... her body. If she is dead, the least to be done would be to find the body for a proper burial.

He headed off in one direction to start off, planning to regroup at the caravan and head in the opposite direction if he found nothing.

Teh Frixz Teh Frixz , Silvana Silvana Would this be where we meet your character? :D
 
Finch was going to elaborate on his suspicions toward the fire settled in the clearing when a crack, then an earsplitting screech erupted in the direction of their convoy, throwing his train of though into the air. All at once, hundreds of scenarios flickered through his mind, tangling into a disorderly clump and choking his senses. As quick as ever, Tanner and Elias dispersed, the younger alchemist suspended where he stood, too frightened to go anywhere without a clue of the circumstances.

Whatever had been trailing them this whole time had decided to attack. This terror rocketed through Finch's body like he'd been split through by a steel pike, propelling him back to the wagons. Glass clinked at his waist, matching the bounce of his pace; the sounds ticked in his head like a bomb seconds from exploding. Finch crested the hill in a sprint, skidding to a stop in the filth of the trail. Familiarity had never felt so great. The youngster's hand trailed to one of the vials hooked on his belt. "Who's hurt?" The query fell flat over the commotion. His eyes swept the group, counting heads. Four - Nemeia, Ash, Faythe, and Alysha were gone. Deep, ugly scuffs in the dirt gave away struggles and the directions those attacked had been taken. He anticipated Elias and Tanner were already hot on the tracks. Though he itched to aide in the search, he had to stick with the remainder of the pack should anything happen again. As he fiddled around the caravan The one thing that plagued his thoughts were how and why the four had disappeared. The scars in the ground suggested more than one fight, though he hadn't heard more screaming than the first echoes through the trees. By brief assessment of each person's capabilities, he guessed Nemeia, Faythe, and Alysha had been dragged away. Ash must have gone after them.

Anxious, Finch stood by, peering into the wagons to check the state of their wares without much else to occupy his twitchy fingers with. Of course nothing had been stolen by numb-skulled shadow-beasts - he let the wagons be and paced up and down the stretch of road, head pounding. The beasts weren't apparitions. Likely a form of wolf, ambushing them in a group. Huge wolves, Finch noted with a gulp, pausing in his path to think. Had he misconstrued his theory on the woman and her fire entirely?

No. If a group of what looked like three malformed beasts would attack an rescue of over ten, they wouldn't hesitate to pounce an old woman with a campfire. Every detail about their predicament left a foul taste in Finch's mouth; this witch had to be unfathomably powerful to completely bypass the ill of the forest. 'A beacon of hope' didn't sit right at all. Something larger is at work here!

Just before Finch could vocalise his verdict: 'it's that lady!', Tanner emerged from the trees bordering the trail, a limp shape in his arms. Nemeia. "Oh, my God," she was a grisly sight, pale and bloodied. Her head, barely hanging on, lulled awkwardly with the Ranger's footsteps as he approached the lead wagon. Overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, Finch turned away, clutching the hilt of his dagger white-knuckled to ground himself, his cheeks drained of color. This can't be happening, not so soon. He didn't know much about Nemeia; she was a Tiefling, she did fancy light magic, she wasn't the violent depiction of her kind Finch had been taught. He wouldn't have the opportunity to learn any more. Finch bit down hard on his lower lip, furious. She didn't deserve to die in that excrutiating, heartless way. None of them did.

This sad, angry ache drowned out the rest of the musty forest, forced him toward Iiolete's wagon. He slumped down against it, opposite to Voxi, fervently rubbing at his eyes. The inside of his skull was throbbing. The day before, at the bar, Finch had advertised himself as a talented and capable wanderer with many tricks up his sleeves and a collection of unique potions in his coat. He was fearless and detached, the picture of strength in this world. When push came to shove, claws glinted in the light, he had done nothing. At all. Not a bottle had been uncorked, a silver dagger hadn't been stained murky red, a life hadn't been saved. He'd failed.

He fixed his posture and looked toward Iiolete, who, as soon as his eyes reached her, took a shot into the dark. Something exploded, flinging sparks and flame into the air. Another fire, this time uncontained, curled into the branches of the weeping trees. It bathed the caravan in light, but would eat the forest at a rapid pace. They would be trapped in it. Desperate to locate the others before then, Finch sprung when Voxi began to head away: "The scratching in the dirt - we need to find the sheriff." He gestured toward the mess at the treeline and quickened his pace.

elie elie Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
 
"Yah!” cries Raes snapping the reins and heeding Tanner's advice. His wagon lurches forward and down the hill toward the fire in the distance. Inside, Gillie winds her father’s crossbow, knocks a bolt, and hands it up to him. She lights two lanterns and hangs them on the front of the wagon. Then, she grabs two unlit brands and puts them up front. Finally, she draws a longsword from it's scabbard and plops down next to her father.

As soon as the last Eldritch Wolf lays lifeless, the fog recedes. It slips away like a caught thief. Even in the dead of night, the world becomes visible. The trees block sight beyond a few thousand feet, but you can see their details in half-moon light.

Voxi and Finch, you stand over Alysha's corpse. It was easy to find once the fog cleared. Her face is difficult to look at, the Wolf attempted to silence her by crushing it. You would not be able to recognize her if you didn't already know who you were looking for. Her gut is a mess of torn flesh and internal organs. The Wolf must have been hungry.

Angel, you walk up to Iiolete sitting on her wagon. In the woods, you can make out two more figures with the fog gone, Voxi and Finch. Faythe and Elias emerge back on the road helping Ash. Before you can say anything, Iiolete fires round after round into the trees. A circle of explosions fill the night sky.

All is born to everyone's eyes in the flare of fire. The immediate woods are empty and less menacing in the light. The Eldritch Wolves lay dead. Raes' wagon has made it down the hill.

 
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The moment the explosions began to go off, Tanner took cover behind the nearest tree, covering his head as debris rained down around him. After several seconds, Tanner slowly pushed himself to his feet, making his way out into the clearing. As he approached the fire, the blood and dirt covering his cloak became more and more apparent, covering much of his body. Crouching down next to the fire, Tanner stared into it for several seconds, silent as he thought. Finally, he turned his head, looking at the others. "How many did we lose?"

The words didn't carry any emotion, Tanner was careful to make sure of that. Focusing too much on those lost would cloud his mind and prevent him from dealing with any future threats. The first task would be to bury the bodies, obviously. But after that, Tanner would need to find out how monsters had gotten this far outside the Deadlands, and in these numbers. Oakheart wasn't in the Empire's interior, but it was far enough away from the Deadland border that the Eldritch Wolves shouldn't have made it this far. Something had gone wrong.

He would need to speak with the others soon.

WlfSamurai WlfSamurai PJ-Flash PJ-Flash marshmarrow marshmarrow Ronan Ronan Silvana Silvana elie elie Hestialuna Hestialuna Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
 
Angel thought to himself as he walked up to the wagon, "At least the fog lifted up for me to see better. It was so hard to see through the fog." Angel noticed that there was no hurt person, instead a person was standing there. So Angel pulled his hood over his eyes so that he would avoid having to look into the persons eyes. He knew that humans would usually look into each others eyes when they talk, but Angel was different. If he were to look into a persons eyes, a human especially, they would be able to see that he was a vampire. Many humans who live in this world dislike vampires as they do for monsters that they even classified vampires as a monster. So Angel would have to be careful and take safety measures in order to keep his vampire side hidden.

Suddenly he heard an explosion and then nothing. So much had happened that he had little time to process it. And probably didn't want to know, but as the saying goes 'curiosity killed the cat' it deeply applied to him.

"What had forced someone to create an explosion in the middle of the woods?" Angel thought to himself. "Are they crazy? Are they trying to kill someone? Or are they just complete idiot? Maybe a mixture of all three. I will need to keep my guard up." Since Angel was closer to the person in the wagon, Angel decided to ask them what had happened.

As Angel walked to the person he thought, "Maybe they won't shoot me on site like how most people usually do whenever someone with a hood over their eyes comes near them." Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
 
Naehorn found nothing new, and began to turn around and return to the wagon. As he was turning around, he noticed a new figure that he did not recognize. He slowly picked up his pace, until he ended up at a full sprint back at the wagon, in an attempt to tackle the mysterious new person. If this person was friendly, first impressions aren't going to be the greatest. But there is a high chance that they aren't friendly, after what just happened, so he didn't want to risk it.

This time felt like an eternity. In this time, he realized his team had already lost two people, who could have been of valuable use to the team. Whether or not he knew them well, this was the first time anyone he knew had died. He used to mock people for feeling sad, because he knew that everything dies eventually, so why be sad about it? He would prefer to be happy they existed. But now, he's the exact person he used to mock. This didn't sit too well with him. He sighed, snapping back to his sense, and started to yell nonsense at the new person.

 
"Crazy man. Check." Angel thought to himself as a man who tried to tackle him missed due to Angel jumping backwards. If the person had wanted to tackle Angel, they would have had Angel not seen them trying to. Then the man started to yell at Angel for some reason. "Did I enter the insane part of the human society?" Angel thought to himself as he tried to figure put what the man was yelling to him about.

"Something about two people dead. From what though? Are...No they can't be. They should still be in The Ember Region. There is no way that they could have found me so fast." Angel's mind went through anger and fear. He had hoped that what had destroyed the Silverlight Empire, killed his family and his subjects, was still there. "Even though the Silverlight Empire was massive and had advance technology, it still wasn't enough to help defend against...."Angel shook his head. He needed to focus on the present. He had to keep pushing forward in order to get stronger so that he would be able to retake his family Empire again.

Angel took a deep breath before saying while avoiding eye contact with the man, "Excuse sir. Could you explain to me why you are yelling at me?"
 
"Because yew are a stranger approaching a convoy sent on a mission from a place that if they weren't an outsider, would know who we were" Iiolete lurches from up on high, her clothing whipping in the very wind that pulled the fog away. Her rifle barrel was smoking and her legs were firmly planted in a way that rocked along with the settling of her wagon. In her spare hand she clutched another rifle, vaguely giving the impression of pointing it at the newcomer but somehow keeping it pointed down beside her thigh.

"State your name, your business and where you've come from. Letting you know now, I'm not a great shot but this thing fires really big bullets. Wraith or not, these'll hurt so tell the truth"

Silvana Silvana
 
Angel plainly stated to the woman with a calm tone, "My name is Lenora Silverlight, but I go by Angel. Where I am from is long gone. Dead to be exact. My business? I just wondered why there was a bunch of screaming and yelling on the road I was on, so I wanted to find out why and see if I could be of any help. Sadly though, I have a rifle pointed at me for trying to see if I could be of any help." Angel knew that it sounded like a good reason. Anyone who heard shooting and yelling would automatically try to see what was happening.
Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
 
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Faythe rushed to help the swordswoman at her beckoning, carefully studying Ash's mangled foot and raw chin. She predicted there would soon be bruises on her back and ribs, if they weren't there already. She sensed magic power emanating from the lacerations, staunching the blood flow from pooling out of her wounds.

"I can do more than just carry you," Faythe responded, kneeling closer to Ash's foot. She ran a hand expertly along its length, lightly tracing the misplaced bone and its splintered fragments beneath the skin.

"In order for me to help, you will have to release the spell you put on your veins. My healing abilities are not strong enough to fix your foot if the wound has magical properties. It may have a countereffect."
 
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'It's not a spell,' she said bluntly, pressing her hands against the ground in a messy, half-struggle get up. She dragged herself towards the nearest tree and grabbed a low-hanging branch and hoisted herself off the ground until she was standing one foot. Her body swayed and she was using the branch like a life-support; she would come crashing down if she let go. The branch protested against her weight and her white-knuckled grip against it. 'The blood—they are like the ears of an elf, the size of dwarf, or your feline kind, it cannot be changed. It—is, it is me.'

And it was difficult to explain, the demarcation of this world where everything was divided into the known and the unknown realms; the known realm being further cut into the spheres of magic, alchemy, race, and so on. No two elves were alike, even from the same tribe and magic, they were different, like black and white. Certain magic came easy to certain groups whereas others failed spectacularly. In short: the world was a broad spectrum of everything that no one could pin-point.

Ash was no different. Her blood can be classified as 'unusual', but that's a series of unusual things about her. At first, she thought it was unusual, too. There was no point in having her blood if she was still painfully mortal, but dying from blood loss was just one less thing to worry about. At this rate, she was going to lose an entire foot.

The branched creaked again, only louder this time, on the verge of snapping. The Eldritch wolf's corpse was starting to stink with rotted blood, but Ash still maintained her stance and stared hard at Faythe, her poisonous green eyes against Faythe's softer forest flecked with gold. If anything was dangerous in the Dead Woods now, it was the one-legged duellist. 'Forget it—they'll have better healers in Glewick City. Elias, let me on your back.' she ordered, immediately turning her head towards him with one arm held out. 'We need to get back the caravan. We've been gone too long.'

She needed to see if the others found Alysha and Nemeia; she needed to get her foot fixed; she needed a checklist of things, but the forest was breathing down their neck and the sound of distant explosions paved a path towards the wagons. Ash, decorum temporarily done away with, wrapped both of her arms around Elias' neck and hoisted herself onto his back.

marshmarrow marshmarrow and Aimless Vagabond Aimless Vagabond do a scene skip and run for the caravan. We're horribly behind compared to the rest of the group. :' (
 
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Elias helped Ash onto his back, using one hand to support her while the other held onto his Whirligig saw, a small amount of blood still dripping from its many teeth.

"Best let Ash have her way on this one, friend," Elias chuckled, his voice more steady and jovial than one might expect coming from someone who had splotches of a monster's blood scattered about the front of his coat. "Even with half the legs, she's still got twice the spirit of anyone else! Come now, let's go see what blew up, shall we?"

Turning on his heel, Elias moved at a brisk jog, following the path Ash had carved out while unceremoniously being dragged by the wolf. "While we have the time," Elias began again, "Allow me to ask you two about the attack. Did you see how many wolves there were? Eldritch or not, I've never known them to not move in packs. There must have been other victims of the ambush, too. I very much doubt that terrified wailing I heard before was from either of you. I can't help but fear the worst for its source."

 
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“Hmm what are yew doing out here then? Just out for a stroll are we?”

Iiolete doesn’t budge, keeping her rifle at her side.

“Well Lennie, I’ll grant you free passage on by unless you are willing to work a tad. Help our wounded. Then yew can stay with us on the way to Glewick. Simple as that”

She was speaking from a representative position despite not knowing the groups position on the matter but a spare hand, even a shady hand, was sorely needed now with a number of their party wounded. The flames eating into the dead woods around them would keep down any approaching threats for a little while but they would have to keep moving now to ensure their survival.
 
Angel thought, "Lennie? Seems awfully rude to call someone else then what they want to be called. Must be a human thing. I will have to take note about that if I plan to fit in more with them."

Angel replied to the woman, hoping to avoid getting shot at any moment as he replied in a calm tone again, "Well I am not much of a nurse or doctor. I am just an
engineer. Though, I will try my best helping with the injured."

Angel had know clue where he was going, but if the crazy person would allow him to travel with her and her group that would be fine. He would just have to make a plan in case they ask about his history and find a way to explain why he can't make eye contact with them. He also wondered how they will react when they found out he was a male and not a female. All of the humans he has met so far have mistaken him as a female since he appears and has the voice of a female. Only when the time comes will he know. Angel just hoped it wouldn't turn out bad for him.
 
Having collected the bodies of Nemeia and Alysha, the group presses on. You collect together with Raes and Gillie's wagon at the bottom of the hill. Next to the road, embers smolder in a shallow pit. This was the fire burning in the distance. Next to it is a log for sitting. But, the campsite is empty. There is no trace of anyone. No footprints. The plants around the campsite stand undisturbed.

After a time, it is decided to push forward. Raes and Gillie are anxious to escape the Deep Wood. Hours pass trudging through thick mud and dense forest. There is no rest. The feeling of danger stays ever present. The more you pay attention to the feeling, the more it grows in your mind. Everyone feels it and it pushes the group to keep to the path and take shifts resting.

The morning and day attempt to pierce the forest's veil, but only a lighter gloom hints at their presence. The path through the trees winds and twists on. It climbs up and down hill after hill. A brook spears across the path with cool water from far off mountains. At no point as you travel have you seen or heard any wildlife. The forest keeps still and silent.

The forest embraces evening fast than you'd hoped. The darkness is near total again. Without the fog, the wood takes on a feeling of an cavern. No light and no escape. The path pushes up a steep hill like one last taunt of your travel. Getting the wagons up the hill takes time and it's midnight before you finish the long and gruelling work.

When you crest the hill, the Deep Wood gives way and lets go, finally done with you. But there is no time for celebration. Dark fields stretch to the horizon. Moonlight dances on reads and plants blowing in the wind for miles. Straight ahead, at the edge of the horizon, the ruin of Glewick city glows orange and red. Even at the distance of two-days travel, you can see the burnt husk of the trade city’s silhouette.

Further down the path, into the prairie, Raes makes camp. Nothing blocks your view all around you. There’ll be no way to sneak into camp tonight. Raes and Gillie build a small fire for warmth and pass around hardtack. “Just to lift spirits,” Gillie says as she hands it to each of you.

You all sit around the guttering fire with the moon high above and clouds slipping through the the sky.

Raes clears his throat. “So, does this change anything?”

 
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Iiolete

Having the ability to stay off her feet for the most part, after the excitement died down the Deadwoods let their grip subside, Iiolete had spent most of the time cleaning and refitting her arms. As well as noting the cost of her reduction in gear. She’d have to bargain for more powder in Glewick.

Having descended from her wagon with her bedding inside the bright red caravan all setup for her to slip into, Iiolete waved away the hardtack, favoring a half eaten chunk of dried, salted beef and a conspicuous full bottle of an amber fluid.

She tears off a chunk of the meat, gnawing away. “Speaking of spirits, anyone want a sip? Y’all are welcome, Tanner can go last” she swallows a chunk of her meat, washing down and wincing.

“Family makes our own, from corn and aged. Makes it bite like a lover and taste like the burn in the barrel. Good stuff”
 
Elias took the hardtack he had been given and, instead of biting into it, shoved the whole biscuit into his mouth and let it sit there until it was soft before crushing it between the roof of his mouth and his tongue, a habit picked up from years of needing to stay absolutely silent on hunts. He chose to abstain from Iiolete's alcohol, feeling that he needed to stay sober for the moment.

"It doesn't change much," he began, swallowing the hardtack, "but I think it's safe to say that the fellow we're after befell the same fate as Glewick there. Before we do anything else, though, we should confirm the situation in the city."

Elias stood up from where he was sitting and turned to face the city. "The fact that we can still see fires burning, especially from this distance, means that whatever went on may still be happening. It'd probably be safer to leave the wagons and horses behind, along with our wounded, and send a small group on foot to Glewick. Though, considering what happened last time," Elias paused briefly, the smell of blood still coming from the two bodies they now had, "splitting up may not be the wisest idea."

He turned once more to face the group. "Our other options are to move into the city as we are and hope that it remains under the control of the sane and law-abiding instead of monsters or brigands, or we can turn heel and make for Oakheart, to let them know of the city's fate and the death of their sheriff." That last idea clearly didn't sit well with Elias, whose burning curiosity about Glewick was almost palpable, but he managed to keep a straight face. "In any case, it's best we come to a decision tonight."
 
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'Along with our wounded,' is the dry response, and she kicks the back of Elias' boot with her good leg, forehead wrinkling with further frustration at her walking crisis. She hated the way he said it; the nonchalantness of his tone that made her feel as if she had been forgotten and better abandoned to the wolves like Alysha and Nemeia. She wasn't used to being the "helpless" one. Ash was the captain of the Forty Elephants and a master duellist. If anything, she should be the one carrying the injured back and not the other way around. But here she was, the soon-to-be-one-legged corsair, mauled by blind Eldritch wolves.

She readjusted herself into a more comfortable position close to the fire and extended her poorly bandaged, injured leg close to the flames. The heat would take her mind off the pain. She sat between Faythe and Finch in a group circle around the small fire and watched as the hardtack and a bottle of something get passed around (she passed the bottle over Finch), and as the group ate, the soft firelight illuminated their faces, clearer under the cloudless evening with the forest gone from sight: Tanner's scars, Voxi's eye, and Lenora's figure, among the noticed things. They were nine in the beginning and now seven, and as she swept across the circle, she diagnosed that her earlier grievance was misplaced by who should get left behind.
'Say—' she began again with a forgiving cadence. 'If we're discussing who stays behind,' green eyes travelled across the group with a gaze comparable to a merciful priest, a man before God who absolves the sinner of their sins; the teacher conducting a choir of students; the vassal's service to a king. Gentle. Tender. Ash the Forgiving.

She turns her head towards Iiolete.

The hardtack is crushed in her palm and her gaze fills with venom. It's weighty. It can be felt in the group, like a ping against your spine; the living shade, and it permeates as something deeper, far more oblivion-able than death. 'Then it should be Iiolete.'

It's as if the rooks of prairie respond.
The black birds break from the trees and the wind gusts through the circle tossing dead leaves into the air and the fire surges, fleeing with the rooks. Ash the Forgiving was apocryphal; only the fair and guileless gave her that name, but she has many names as their are for the towns of this great, wide earth combined: Ash the Saviour, Ash the Heartless, Ash the Redeemer, and most famous, Bloody Ash.
She opens the palm of her hand and lets the wind take the broken pieces of hardtack for the rooks to devour. ' ... Exploding barrels,' branches stand at her words and the grass shivers. 'Perhaps ... the trigger-happy's should be ... '

She tilts her head to the sky.
There are not even stars, just a sky darker than black.

'Dead-happy's.'

 
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“How’s your foot?” Iiolete digs something out between her cainines and throws it into the fire. “Must hurt to walk on, must be a reminder of mistakes. You can ride in my wagon if you wish, I’ll be taking it into Glewick come mornin.”

Iiolete leans over, grabbing a stick to scratch a symbol into the ground.

“I follow the path and spin the wheel, I am supposed to meet someone in Glewick. An I intend on fulfilling my promise to them.”

She finishes drawing out the Arcana of the Fortune Wheel, spitting into the middle of the symbol and observing which way the expactorate landed.

“Why do y’all think they call it Deadwoods? You leave the path and you die. You’ve been blessed to survive, did you not feel the woods tugging at us as we left? At our so souls? We were watched the moment we entered, and if y’all stayed with the caravan, we’d have taken less loss. Cool yer heel cosair.”

Iiolete leans back, starting the process of removing her boots to dry her feet. “We go in the morning after things have cooled down. Or at least that’s my vote”
 

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