Fandom Dark Souls 3.5: Ashes of Astora (Still Open)

[Unbreakable Patches]

From the confines of ceremonial stone you find yourself in a barren, dusty husk of a graveyard, littered with gravestones. The drab grey wasteland seems to stretch outwards, covering the landscape with a quiet, ashen blanket. You know very well that you're not supposed to be here, but it seems that there are no guards left to stop you. Only brainless shells wandering aimlessly across the abandoned earth, oblivious to their own madness and itching to bury their sword in something other than the ground they rose from.

However it seems you are at least not alone in this endeavor. The telltale sounds of unsealing coffins permeates the air, bringing forth the two others who will accompany you. You're not entirely sure if it was random chance or fate that made you awaken at the same time, but Lothric will provide no answer for you. There is only one thing burning in your head, a clear directive that could never be misunderstood, even by the dullest of iron-clad warriors.

"Slay the Ashen one.
Bring his cinders to the shrine so that the ritual may once again be suffered through.
From here on out, you are on your own in a harsh, unforgiving world that wants you dead.
Good luck brave adventurers."

And just as quickly as it came, the thought receded from the still cloudy minds of our brave party. They truly were on their own. Together.​

 

[Zaikeiil]

A sudden gasp of stale air, caused the painful memories of the First Flame burning her to ash to become as vivid like it just happened. Mara's eyes shot right opened just to see more darkness, and to panic when she noticed she was in a enclose place. What was ever in front of her, moved slightly while she was trying to find a way out. Pushing with whatever strength she had left, Mara managed to get free before stumbling out and falling to her knees. She wasn't the only one who was trapped in what she found out was a stone coffin. Two others where in the same situation as she, maybe they were also turned to ash by the First Flame. A voice of some sort started to talk to her, and it sounded like someone was right in front of her.

"Slay the Ashen one.
Bring his cinders to the shrine so that the ritual may once again be suffered through.
From here on out, you are on your own in a harsh, unforgiving world that wants you dead.
Good luck brave adventurers."​

Ashen One? Ritual? Can whoever it was, be as vague as this? There was no way that she was going to get answers here. Stone coffins were everywhere, making what appears to be a cementary. Others were walking slowly some distance away from her and the other two. Some were dragging poorly maintained or broken swords, and there was something unnerving about how they look. Well from what she could see from where she was standing. Her teacher would shake his head, if he saw that she didn't take his teachings and the legends to heart.

 

[Karcen]

The fire it burned every nerve screamed as they burned and after as souls themselves were drained to burn and burn. The pain was unbearable the flame consuming everything that was existence. Then after an eternity there was darkness blessed darkness and the stopped. Then the peaceful dark was disturbed as Jaune took a breath she was breathing she was living once again.

Jaune was in something a coffin of stone she was back she was no longer burning. Jaune did not wish this she wanted to go back to that peaceful dark the true darkness that was a true darkness beyond the abyss. Still the was back the fire must have come and gone countless times so why was she back. The flame by now must have gone out dark must have come yet shd lived when she shouldn't be here. Jaune pushed aginst the lid before grabbing something a staff like thing a catalyst but not hers. With this she cast a soul arrow that blew off the lid freeing her.

Stepping out Jaune blinked her hand traveling to her head and her sides. Her catalyst and her sword were gone burned away only her crown remained through the ages. As Jaune checked what had gone the voice spoke out, the flame and the ritual no the fire must die the logic of the world finally restored. Jaune would never let the fire once again start the cycle it must truly die.

Jaune then looked around and saw two others two more chosen. It was strange to start a ritual with others likely fooled by fire to reject the world and the dark. Still they had to find this ashen one for now the fire lay with it and the chance at true lightless dark.

 

[Unbreakable Patches]

The third casket cracked open slightly, almost as if to not disturb the corpse within. In spite of this, a low grumbling began emanating from the now ajar sarcophagus, like an injured beast tending to it's wounds or a bear seeing the sun for the first time after the harsh winter. The grumbling began picking up in volume as the lid lifted itself up inch by inch. Suspense grew as the muttering became very clearly audible, sounding like an incoherent jumble of multiple languages. As the stone lid tumbled to the side, a spindly figure rose to his feet. Though the build up was hardly worth the disappointing reveal, showing nothing more than another tired Hollow. You could almost swear he was ready to strike if he hadn't piped up as soon as he was on his feet.

"Wretched lords of cinder and their bloody curse... yeah, bloody curse is right, curse the bloody lot of 'em..." he continues in a likewise fashion, all the while ignoring the other two.

"Couldn't solve their problems alone, huh? Always needing some plucky hero to make all their decisions for 'em... gods I hate this accursed land." His speech became less coherent as he rambled on, starting to sound closer to a drunkard spinning a tale entirely. Though he finally finished up his grumpy speech and realized he wasn't talking to himself, turning to face the others.

"Ugh, great. Always some mindless corpses slinking in and out of their coffins. Or are you? Mindless, I mean. There just might be something left in those heads of yours."​

 

[Karcen]

"Do not think all undead fall to hollowing" Jaune said her crown seeming to glow ever so slightly. She was the undead that would never hollow though she was not undead now.

Jaune was not familiar with this land she had died long ago long before this land had come into existance. She had existed before the lords of cinder back when the fire had never come so truly close to death as it did now. She had walked the world since the first linking but never had the flame been so faded to call upon those that failed and those that betrayed it.

"You must be younger than I to know this land what is it called?" She asked she didnt know the new but she knew the ancient the lost the forgotten.

 

[Zaikeiil]

Mara slowly stood up while staying silent as she listen. Most of what the old man said, went over her head, but some of what he said sounds familiar. It wasn't the first time she heard people cursing the Lords of Cinder. Some of the people of her home village cursed them for not doing their jobs properly in the first place.

"You could say that... I was mindless when my hand grazed the First Flame." She managed to say with almost little difficulty yet she had to stop in the middle of the sentence to rub her throat some. After a bit Mara had to think what the area is called. Remembering the names of locations is not her strong suit. "I believe it is... Hmm, I think that dying messed up my memory some. It could be Lothric, could be wrong."

Mara went to place her left hand on top of her axe just to notice that it was gone. Taking a glace around the coffin, she found one leaning next to it. It looked similar to the one she was used to using, but it will have to do. After placing it where her old one would be, she summon a small flame in her right hand. Staring at the flame for a bit, Mara closed her hand to smother the flame. No use to wasting mana on something so small like a simple fireball. "And who are you two, if you don't mind me asking?" She turned to face th e other two, her hand resting on the axe she found.

 

[Unbreakable Patches]

"Beat me to the punch." He chuckled to himself, relieved that they hadn't broken out into braindead moaning and attacked him. They seemed... normal, as normal as anyone in this damned land could be, at least. They reminded him of the people from his small swamp hamlet, each with quirks and weaknesses that they wore openly on their sleeve.
"Well, if introductions are to be made, you may call me Saul for as long as it matters. Though I doubt that will be long, judging our current situation. As for our location, I cannot say. But if I had to guess I'd say we're in a mass grave stuffed beyond it's limits. Only Lothric would be that uncaring and disrespectful to the dead, don't you think?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He pauses to glance around the graveyard, mostly sizing up their "competition" they would have to inevitably clash with, when he spies something most peculiar off in the distance. After giving the others ample time to introduce themselves, he brings their attention to the small dust cloud forming below them, off of the cliff face that lay to their left by a handful of meters. It looks as if a battle is raging on below, with at least two score of undead on either side of the opposing forces.
"Quite a scuffle going on down there. Usually I'd say we should go the opposite direction, but they seem to be coordinated. Maybe we can find someone who'll lead us in the right direction?"

 

[Karcen]

" I am Jaune of Lordran and i do not know of any place called Lothric" Jaune said the name of the ancient land of the lords long lost beyond any mortals memory wiped away countless cycles ago.

Jaune had given herself to the fire long before any of the current lords of cinder had ever linked the fire. Jaune didn't remember the exact number of cycles she had been through before she had linked the fire in the pointless ritual. Jaune would not let that continue, but first she needed to know of this new world she found herself in, just how long she had slept. Still there was little to do for now except walk the path she had walked countless times and stand before the flame as she had done to many times, but she would not burn or walk away this time.

when saul spoke up Jaune looked to the place he was pointing, there was nothing to do but look into it. This was the start of a path they had all walked one they should all remember. Jaune suspected they need only find a fire keeper if any lasted to this age, if the one tending firelink still existed, if this ashen one had not killed her. Jaune had known many fire keepers, she had known some more than others and grown close to so few of them so very close beyond what could be called friendship. The fire keeper if she yet lived would be their guide she always was.

" If we need directions we should seek a fire keeper they often serve as guides and friends to chosen undead" Jaune explained not against investigating " Still perhaps the ritual has changed in the countless ages or perhaps this ashen one changed it "

 

[GrieveWriter]

Moving felt odd for some reason.

The aching feeling running along his chest was the first indicator to Montimore that consciousness had been returned to him. Thin the heavy intake of breath as his body took in air for the first time in innumerable years. His face felt tight, partially locked with the smile he'd died with. He flexed his jaws, a small cough coming as he choked on some of the stale air of the container he resided in. Raising his hands before his eyes, Monty clenched and un-clenched his hands. One wrapped in soft wrappings with the other sporting a gauntlet barely held together by similar wrappings. Clenching both of these hands into fists, he reared back before slamming them against the doorr of his coffin.

He stumbled out at first, but managed to catch himself on weary limbs as memory started returning to him. Yes, he'd been slain... his holy goal had been fulfilled and he had died in bliss. But the ache from his chest was the only remaining feeling from the axe which had nearly cleaved him in twain, and as he reached towards the spot on his armor that had clearly been damaged, a jingle reached his ears. He tilted his head down, dented helmet nearly falling from his head as he spotted it: his chime securely fastened to his belt. It was the sound of that chime which prelude the words.

"Slay the Ashen one.
Bring his cinders to the shrine so that the ritual may once again be suffered through.
From here on out, you are on your own in a harsh, unforgiving world that wants you dead.
Good luck brave adventurers."​

Ah, another task for the divine. Monty felt his smile returning as he stood and tore his chime from his belt, the bells within ringing as his smile returned. How could he deny such clear instruction?

It was only then that he cast his gaze to the side and spotted others assembling amongst these immense graves. But they were not all, trudging away from his grave, he took note of the many others who wandered this graveyard. Lost hollows wielding weapons and some even using those weapons on each other. Turning his attention to the sky, Montimore took a deep breath of air removed from the confines of his coffin. It was laced with death and rot, but Monty wasn't one to let that whip the grin from his face. Instead, his eyes fell upon the building in the distance.

Humming a little tune to himself, Montimore gave the chime a little shake before turning and calling out to the others "Hello there! Am I to believe that you folk have been raised as well?" he asked before bending down beside the cliff and speaking back to them "I lived a while as a Herald and seen many a conflict, but something about this one strikes me as fairly odd."

 

[Zaikeiil]

A Fire Keeper. How her mother told her stories about the keepers of the bonfires. Mara bit her lip as she started walking towards where she hoped was a way out of this unnerving cementary. Hearing the two introduce themselves, Mara turned around, hands behind her back while still walking backwards. "Finding a Fire Keeper is a good place to start, but maybe finding a way out of here first should be the step. Then the second part should be finding a Fire Keeper." She turned back around to continue walking, stopping briefly when she heard sounds of fighting off in the distance. A frown appeared on her face, and stayed on until she remembered something she forgot. "Names Mara. Well, we better get going, don't ya think?" A loud crash coming from hear by had caused her to jump and a fireball was instantly formed in her hand.

A look of disbelief shown on her face at how this newly awaken man had a grin on his face. Grinning was not the first thing that was on her list. Shaking her head, Mara cleared her throat. "Nah, I like walking through a creepy cementary on my free time." She gave a slight shrug. "What do you mean by this strikes you odd? If you don't mind me asking?"

 

[Karcen]

" True the fire is weak beyond what is normal our worlds are one this time" Jaune said finding it odd but if the fire was that weak perhaps then she could finally snuff it out once they found this ashen one.

There was also the issue of those people in the distance still closing in with the dust could. Jaune didn't expect anyone but a few people to be friendly that was how it always was a few in the shrines a few in the world but never many. The world was almost always full of hollows those paying the price for the old gods greed and fear. The world needed to be free the dark needed to be calmed and no longer go mad. That was a far way off and these people were the first step.

" i am goign to go either get directions or kill some hollows whichever happens feel free to follow" Jaune said before heading off towards the fight.

 

[Unbreakable Patches]

Saul breathed a content sigh of relief, having his silent prayers answered with the introduction of the portly herald. The three of the already awoken would have stood little chance against the horrors Lothric and beyond would have in store for them, and strength in numbers was the norm.

"Ah, I was worried we'd be travelling a little light on friends, given the whole unfriendly lands speech. You all heard that, right? I'm not just going insane?" Saul absently chuckled at the notion, as if it were a new concept to the paranoid pyromancer. He resumed his curious viewing of the battle raging on, as both sides’ numbers continued to dwindle. Steel clashed against steel, wooden shields were filled with arrows, and the sonorous war-cry of the participants of the bloody conflict echoed throughout the densely packed graveyard.

A battle that loud was sure to attract attention and Saul knew it. With no signs of opposing force on the horizon there was no need to act just yet, and yet somehow this did little to settle his nerves. Had he always been this jumpy, or had necromancy given him a fresh new spring in his step? It was something to think about in the long journey ahead, no doubt.

“Should we get a move on?” Saul absently muttered to the group, not even turning his head to look at them. Though he had suggested moving, it seemed like he was rooted to the spot, waiting for… something.​

 

[GrieveWriter]

Monty tilted his head at Mara's question before giving a chuckle to himself and waving it off "No matter, Truly." he said while rising to his full height "If the fire truly has weakened to such an extent, the time for questions has not quite been granted."

One of the other girls also seemed eager to get a move on, as she wasted no time in making for the battle below. The Herald watched for a moment as the two sides tore away at each other, combatants littering the already decrepit looking graveyard. The young man posed a question on whether they should begin moving, and Monty merely gestured towards the back of the woman as she drew closer to the clashing weapons, "It would seem a method has been chosen, let us save all else for when we're properly allowed our bearings."

With that said he tightened his grip on his chime and descended towards the battle as well, but he didn't seem in a rush. He took his steps slowly, keeping his eyes on the woman as she approached the fighters. As kindly as he was, Monty had not survived as long as he did amongst the ravages of the curse for being fool hearty. He watched to see how the first interaction would go, maintaining only a slow trot as he measured out the reactions of the fighters.

 

[DrabberRogue]

Was he dead?
Arcturus pondered this thought as he lie there, suddenly quite aware that he could still think. He could still feel the comfortable embrace of his protective armor, of his sword nestled between his hands, and of something lying atop him. The last of which felt like his shield. Whatever and wherever he was, it was hard to breathe. Stale, pungent air surrounded him, offering very little in the way of respite to his lungs.

How odd, he hadn't thought the dead needed to breathe.

That's what he was, wasn't it? After all it felt like mere seconds ago that he had been on the battlefield. His heart still raced from the mixture of terror and excitement, though he no longer felt sore from his wounds. The very last thing he remembered seeing before this most unusual darkness was the spike of a lucerne. Arcturus had always held a certain admiration for that weapon. Perhaps it was the sheer effectiveness it held against armor, or perhaps the affectionate moniker it was oft known by. 'Lucy.' A nickname shared with that of a girl he'd fancied.

It was a disappointing memory. Arcturus, ironically, loathed death. For someone so enamored with the tragedy of war he had always hated the dire loss of potential that came with death. Especially his own. Although that detail surely sprang from his own bias. He could not help himself, for it was only human to commit the sin of selfishness. Was it not?

Slay the Ashen one.
Bring his cinders to the shrine so that the ritual may once again be suffered through.
From here on out, you are on your own in a harsh, unforgiving world that wants you dead.
Good luck brave adventurers.​

As if to answer his idle musing, a voice suddenly rang out in the knight's head. Foreign words intruding upon his own inner dialogue. They were punctuated, too, by the muffled sounds of crashing stone. It was surreal. Arcturus recalled the legends he had been taught, of the flame and the lords of cinder who sacrificed themselves to rekindle it. It was an ashen one who would be called upon by the bell were the lords to forsake their duty. A contingency of fate, bound in ash, to follow the course it was meant to.

There was always a part of him that had wondered what would happen if an ashen one, too, were to turn their back on the first flame. Now he had an answer.

Thou who art undead, thou art chosen.
Arcturus recalled the words of an ancient legend as his hands found the stone slab above him. With a grunt of effort he pushed it upwards slightly before starting to slide it to the side, causing a satisfying sound of grinding stone to fill the small space in which he lay.
In thine exodus from the undead asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of ancient lords.
After a few seconds he had shifted the lid far enough to let fresh air in, filling him with energy as he tasted the outside world for the first time in what felt like forever. He hadn't realized until now how stiff his limbs felt or how dry his throat was. How long had he been trapped inside what he now knew to be a coffin?
When thou ringeth the bell of awakening, the fate of the undead though shalt know.
It was an old story, told alongside the tale of the tragic prince. A favorite of many he knew. Likely nothing more than a legend, passed down through generations of Astoran tradition. There were no historical records of such places or things, after all. At least not that he had found. He imagined it had something to do with The Way of White. Taken perhaps a little too literally from their holy texts. How odd that his thoughts would drift to such things now...

Finally he pushed the sealing lid aside, causing it to crash to the ground beside his resting place. Suddenly filled with a desire for freedom from the enclosed space, he vaulted over the other side, his hand reaching up to lift his visor almost as soon as his feet hit the ground. Arcturus pushed the metal plate straight upwards, opening his helmet and taking a deep gasp of air. Filled though the atmosphere was with the smell of ash and corpses, it still tasted sweet to his long deprived body. A glorious reprieve from the stagnant coffin air he had suffered for who knew how long. Lifting his arms to the sky he took in another deep breath, basking in the warmth of his waking muscles as he stretched his whole body. The act sent a ripple of pops and cracks down his spine, what felt like decades worth of tension finally released in a wave of satisfaction.

It was good to be alive. Or undead, as he supposed he was now.

Speaking of undead, he was not alone. Once his stretch was done, Arcturus started to glance around, vaguely aware of the moaning hollows just barely within earshot. Oh yes, he knew of the hollows. The one thing that turned the blessing of immortality into a curse. Shadows of humanity, doomed to wander forever in idle madness. The fate of all undead, or so they say. Their sight disturbed him, prompting the young man to habitually close his visor. As if his armor could somehow protect him from becoming the same way.

However it seemed they were not his only company. The voice had mentioned 'adventurers' in the plural, and there seemed to be a small gathering of people nearby. People whose skin was not rotting, people who looked to be conversing with one another. People who looked as though they'd made or were making a decision, given the young woman and the taller man who seemed to be heading off. Looking beyond them, in the direction they were headed, Arcturus' eyes fell upon the dust cloud of a battle. The faint sound of ringing steel came with that realization, something he hadn't noticed prior. What a sweet sound.

It was not difficult for him to decide on a course of action. Turning his attention back to his stone bed, his coffin, he retrieved both his sword and his shield. How strikingly beautiful they were, even with the wear of battle obvious on their ornate forms. Arcturus silently thanked whoever had chosen to bury him with his equipment. It would have been a true tragedy were he separated from his sword. Sheathing the weapon in its similarly decorated sheath, the knight started began to approach the group he had spotted, strapping his shield on as he went. It probably paid to be prepared when traversing a graveyard full of hollows. Once that was done he raised his arm, offering a jovial wave to the folks he was surely intended to work with, the golden filigree of his armor glinting in what little sunlight there was.

In full honesty Arcturus wasn't sure what he intended to make of the situation he'd awoken to. All he knew was that he was glad to be breathing again, and that the world was in a far darker state than he had left it. For now his best bet was with the group he seemed to have been awoken with. If he then still doubted his motivations, or found himself lacking in directions, it would be a good position from which to figure out how he was going to live his newfound undeath going forward.

 

[Zaikeiil]

Fighting was not one of her strengths, and the undead soldiers fighting each other was making her uneasy. The faint glow of her mother's Pyromancy Flame brought Mara's attention to her left hand, which reminded her that she had to take some risks if she wanted to be a pyromancer. Why learn pyromancies if you're afraid to fight with fire. Mara looked around to see where she can get to a good vantage point until she saw someone waving. Giving the knight a small wave, she took a quick glanced at the cliffside to see if there is anywhere she can get to that she wouldn't have to worry about falling off. Then again, Mara did have her axe if she was worried about hitting one of her companions with a stray fireball because she missed hitting an enemy with it.

"Wish that I didn't have to relearn every pyromancy that I learned, because I stayed dead for how many years." She muttered as she pulled her axe from her belt while trying to cast Warmth in her off hand, and not producing anything.

When she had wandered the lands in exile, she would usually use Poison Mist to make the different animals and creatures hesitant to attack her. That tactic probably won't work on the hollowed soldiers anyways. Keeping towards the back, and near the cliffside, Mara tried keep herself from view of their, hopefully not, would be attackers. She saw enough fights to know that people tends to attack the magic users first before going after anybody else.

 

[Karcen]

Jaune lead those that were willing down to the fight. She wanted to get moving she was no hollow she would not stay in one place and she would not fear to move forward. Unkidled or undead the key to everything was to keep moving forward. Jaune didn't fear fighting in front she had killed gods over and over a few mear hollows would never kill her.

Jaune walked to the fight with no worries a small dagger dawn. There was a tiny chance they wouldnt be hostile but she was careful. Maybe had lived to long to simply trust that somone was what they appeared.

 

[Unbreakable Patches]

Saul stayed seated on the dusty grave marker, watching the battlefield from afar. Hearing the light crunch of another one's boots against the decaying ground, he looks to the side to see the knight rising from his tomb. It seemed their party was complete, and now it was time to move. A grim smile made it's way onto his face as his fists lit with wild flame, and he shot a look at Arcturus before sprinting towards the battlefield.

Upon first looking upon the sudden intrusion to their brutal death match, the soldiers all stopped in unison and their lifeless eyes stared holes into the encroaching two. All at once, their ranks flew to pieces as they stampeded over their own, all in an attempt to get closer to them. Their swords were rusted or broken completely, but they didn't seem to care. All that could be seen in their souls was unkempt, primal blood lust. As the lookers on watched the battlefield, they might have noticed a few undead taking a few steps back from the angry mob and taking aim with their barely functioning crossbows. One might have made the observation that the raggedy looking weaponry would not fire, but that thinking would be quickly discarded as fast as the arrow flying past their head. Without cover or a means of fighting back, they would surely be filled with holes.


Saul noticed the undead wave crashing towards Jaune and Monty, and quickly joined ranks with them. He seemed irrationally calm.
"You seem to know what you're doing, so I'll leave the battle strategy to you. You... do have a plan, right?"
The flame around his palms seemed to weaken along with his resolve, becoming little more than embers.​

 

[GrieveWriter]

Monty let Jaune lead, keeping his gaze alternating between her to the undead soldiers the entire time. Though his smile remained unflinching, his grip on his chime visibly tightened as the soldiers all halted to turn their attention towards them. It seems whatever drove them to attack one another was overwritten by the sight of them. Monty could see where this was going now. But he continued falling in line behind her, his pace remaining steady right up until the horde began charging for them.

Once they began crushing each other in their attempts to reach them, Monty halted in place and clutched his chime in two hands before kneeling in prayer. He gave several rings of his chime as another awoken warrior joined them, asking for some semblance of strategy.

"Those blinded by the curse can only see battle and ruin." Monty stated as he arose with electricity forming around his chime "May the gods guide our hands and lay waste to these lost wanderers."

Glancing over to Saul, Monty snickered as a blessed aura momentarily formed around him "I plan to render these rotting soldiers asunder, but maybe skirting the battle will help you make use of my thunder?"

Monty winked at the little rhyme before rearing back with his chime in preparation for the incoming horde.

 

[DrabberRogue]

It seemed there would be no time for pleasantries as the group all headed off towards the battle. Truly, would he not even be granted the names of his new comrades before being tossed to the fire? At the very least the one at the back, a woman who looked to be some manner of witch, had offered him a wave in return. No room for manners on the battlefield he supposed.

Arcturus dropped his hand back to his side as he approached where the witch was standing, his icy blue eyes staring down at the scene through his visor. It was honestly unsettling, how the depraved hollows trampled upon one another to charge those who still yet bore humanity. Friend and former foe alike blended together like a crashing wave of steel and rotted flesh. They were nothing like the organized, disciplined ranks of a living army. How disgraceful. Still an enemy was an enemy, his apparent new comrades were in danger, and his heart still raced with the adrenaline of his dying battle. It was time he learned whether hollows bled as men did.

Turning briefly to the witch, the Astoran offered her a polite nod, a friendly smirk hidden beneath his impassive black visor. "Good morning." He greeted simply, a tone of dry humor lacing his noble accent. He then drew his ornate sword, flourishing it as he broke into a sprint. His piercing gaze scanned over the approaching horde, fixing on the archers for a moment, before shifting to the small line of his allies. Were they magicians, all of them? The one who had met his gaze earlier looked to be a pyromancer, the taller man had lightning crackling around his holy chime, and the young woman held but a small dagger in her hand. How interesting. He had never fought alongside wielders of such power, and only rarely against them. However from what little he had seen in battle he was glad to have them on his side for once.

Running around to the front of their formation, Arcturus slid to a halt between them and the enemy, though staying close enough to remain part of their ranks. "Kill the archers if you can!" He shouted, offering a tactical suggestion as he raised his shield to the approaching horde. "I will attempt to hold the horde's attention." His voice, while energetic, shifted to a more grim tone as his second sentence came to its end. Staring down the wave of accursed corpses before him he couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of fear take root in his heart. The familiar sensation of willfully facing a numerically superior foe. Yet he remained confident, determined to hold the line until those alongside him could sweep the enemy aside with their arcane prowess. Arcturus had faced worse odds and died to tell the tale after all.

 

[Karcen]

" We dodge and fight like always" Jaune said keeping things simple.

Jaune tended to just move forward always keep going and should you die you just came back, she had done it so much that death held no fear for her and it was laughable to even think of it. Even with the flame fading Jaune didn't doubt they would always return from death, some things no matter the cycle remained the same. The crossbows were not something to be feared you just needed to be aware the others might be green, but Jaune had seen these things over and over. When one of the mob got close enough to strike Jaune lashed out parrying the blow then riposting easily striking with her dagger which made her miss her ancient moonlight sword. Still it was one down plenty more to go and as a crossbow was ready Jaune rolled out of the way remembering how weak she was now compared to before annoyed her, but still a mob of hollows was nothing to anyone with some skill.

 

[Unbreakable Patches]

And suddenly, hell broke loose. Undead bone clashed against undead bodies, dust and dirt kicked up into a storm surrounding the battle. The few hollows trampled in the charge began rising from their earthen prison, quietly letting a chorus of painless moans. The fighters still standing swarmed the small band, causing a wall of decaying flesh to expand around them. There would be no escape unless one could be deft enough to find a way. Speaking of which...

Saul immediately took a few steps back, allowing the battle to form in front of him. Now that he could see the brawl in it's entirety, he could map out a route directly through their ranks. A long breath intensified the flames, revitalizing his energy. The undead did not need to draw breath, but Saul's unique pyromantic style required the lungs, however decayed and useless they were now. Letting out a raspy sigh, he charged straight forwards and planted his foot on the chest of a bulkier warrior-type. Using the momentum of his running start, he launched his lighter frame into the air and landed on another hollow's groaning head. A genuine smile formed on his sickly face, as he began hopping across the battlefield, one hollow at a time.

Finally, the battlefield began to thin closer to the archers. It took great leaps just to keep his airborne combo going, but soon he would meet with the ground once more. He decided that it would be through the bowman closest to him. Leaping for the final time, he brought a fist down onto the poor archer, slamming him into the ground with the force of his body weight and a fiery strike. It was not dead, but immobilized for the time being


The undead horde would not be would not stopped by a mere dagger or spell casting, but the battle could be won through quick wits and a quicker sword arm. While Jaune thrust her dagger through the wide-open corpse, another three approached from all sides. She found herself in a quickly closing circle, dead center in the tidal wave of undead. Monty found himself in a similar situation, quickly being surrounded on all fronts. The situation began to darken as more undead poured into the group, and bolts began flying in all directions. It was becoming a truly dire situation.​