Fantasy Penance Behind the Veil

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

For a moment, only a moment, she thought perhaps she hadn't woken properly. That she was still somehow trapped in the strange world between dreaming and awake. Alexander called her name and she was certain the nightmare was still happening, that the memories of that awful night had somehow bled into reality, crashed into the now. But it was only a moment, and then it was gone and the truth of the matter was suddenly much more frightening that any unconscious dread might be.


Who was he? Alexander? Why had he been there, that night? Had he been involved...? There was no doubt within her that his interference had saved her life, more than just her life. But had he been responsible for her father's death? And why hadn't he told her? Why pretend not to know who she was, not to know what had happened to her father that night?


Why ask her to recall those terrible events...?


Frozen by unconscious paranoia she sat for several seconds before she realized that her silence might be cause for alarm and might draw him inside, where they would be alone, something she hardly trusted herself with, given her uncertain state of mind.


“...Sir Vallane?” She responded, and slipping from her bed clothes, she grabbed her dress, stepping into it, “A moment, please.”


Arms through the holes, she made quick work of the bodice laces, in spite of trembling fingers, before she moved to pull back the tent flap. In the early morning light, he looked no different than he had the night before, yet in her mind’s imagination she could see threads of that dreadful murdering madman, woven throughout the fine features on Alexander’s face.


“...Is everything alright, Sire?”

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnie swallowed as she was given her orders. Keep him comfortable. If that wasn't a far cry of a joke. She still had some of the draught left in her bag from the potion she'd made for herself to ease the wounds in her chest, but if she used that now, she'd have none for when her own body finally wisened up and gave her a very rude what-for. She almost left it in her bag as she walked around the man, thinking of her grandfather and his thriftiness, his practicality, his assuredness in his own worth. He's gonna die anyways. Lookit 'im, he's sweatin' buckets, 'n he's moanin'. He ain't gonna even be a' use to us anymore, without that arm, and... and...


Marnie bent down next to his head, the world seeming to slow to a snail's trot. Aleida was grabbing an axe. Who would've thought the lady had it in her? And Gwen -- tough Gwen, able to smack a servant without another thought, of course she'd apply the heated metal to a poor man's stump of a living. The man was given a cloth to bite, his eyes rolling around wildly. She wondered if he knew what was about to happen to him, if he was aware enough to realize that his livelihood was about to be yanked from him like a lifeline off an anchor. Without the arm, he'd be less useful than a blunted sword. At least a dull blade can still strike. Better off dead, he was.


But she couldn't think of him like that.


"Here," Marnie said, the world snapping back together, removing the cloth from his mouth and giving him a bit of her draught to save him from the pain. He got the whole vial, no water added to the mix, for maximum effect, and she placed the cloth back into his mouth. It wouldn't be near enough, not even in its distilled form, but it would have to do for now. There'd at least be less agony, though Marnie had the distinct feeling that there'd still be just as much screaming and blood. Men didn't take too kindly to losing limbs.


As they prepped him for the amputation, Marnie gently talked to him, turning his head to the side. He kept trying to look over his shoulder at what they were doing, but Marnie was quick to turn him away. Now and again, he'd squeeze out a word or two while Marnie dabbed his wet forehead, usually along the lines of "what..." and "hurts..." and "my arm...", and Marnie tried to distract him the best she could.


"Look, you'll be alright. 's gon' be alrightie, good as Sunday, so don't you worry your head 'bout none a this," Marnie said as she glanced sidelong at the others preparing the arm. She tried to keep up a cheery face, though she faltered as she heard Aleida's footsteps approach from behind. "After this, ye can sit wiv a pint 'n laugh with yer pals, yeah?"


"W-... wha...? The... not my arm... not--"


The man tried to turn his head to see Aleida, but Marnie turned his head sharply and bent down close, holding his shoulders down. She ordered, "Don't look. Just... it's easier if you don't look. Shh, you'll be fine, it's gonna be fine, you'll be--"


THUNK went the axe, and the swordsman immediately flailed under Marnie's grip, the cloth in his mouth just barely enough to muffle his cries of agony. Marnie threw herself over him as he kicked his heels into the ground and grabbed her hair in a death's grip, and she gritted her teeth as she tried to hold him still. Others came by and held down his legs as the hot iron was applied to the wound, and he bucked and cried and shouted wordlessly through the gag. Marnie screwed shut her eyes as tears leaked out from pain and empathy, waiting for his pain to end.


@Poe @Musician

 

[Pequeno Burraidh]

Waking up wasn't difficult. Redressing in her clean clothes was just as simple as ever too. But between scurrying off to avoid witnessing the battlefield amputation of a man's arm and the ensuing mentally drained feeling from the previous day there wasn't much about servant duties that appealed to the girl so she instead started thinking over the events that had come to pass. From her time spent with Bella before they entered to her conversation with Prince Ceril, a conversation that, thinking back, had gone over a lot easier than she had actually expected, she started noticing one important factor. It involved the Mockeries. They were... simple... simple was a good term for them. When they met the first it just went after whoever attacked it. It didn't pay attention to who the most important or least important was.


Ergo it seemed to be an animal.


But then the coordinated planned attack on the carriages. Like ants after a caterpillar. Ants was the most accurate term she could find for them, and again, during the attack they only focused on getting to the carriages and whoever was on them. That move was, intelligent. That meant that they had a mind somewhere, but it seemed to be some form of shared mind, like soldiers following the word of a queen...


Her face briefly paling at the idea of a queen Mockery Konoha quickly tried to find something or someone else to focus on. What she needed was a friend more than most aught was a friend. The more she watched the interactions of those around her the more she realised she was most definitely the odd one out in the group. But who out of everyone could she go spend time with? Most everyone was of lofty position save for Arabella. And she'd talked to the girl before, she was a good worker, and maybe her speech to the girl from before they came in would help.


Walking towards the tent of the girl Konoha came around the back end of it to find not only Arabella but Ser Alexander as well.


"Oh, good mornings to you Serrah Alexander," Konoha smiled, bowing her head slightly in respect,"And good mornings to you Bella. You both are well faring today?"

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


The Prince decided not to stick around and watch the impromptu practice of medicine and instead went to pack his own gear. He could have had Ko or another servant do it for him, but at this moment it just didn't feel right. Plus, he was no pampered noble with not a clue how to survive on his own -- his extensive time camping and exploring with Aleida as they grew up at least gave him the knowledge to pitch and collapse his own tent. It gave him time to reflect, something he hadn't been able to do resting through the night. With a possibility of mutiny and dissent brewing in his ranks, he would have to come up with a solution to quell the thoughts and raise morale, even with the bleakness and feeling of hopelessness that the Veil and the Mockery brought upon his ranks working against him.


When Ceril was finished, he made back to the main campfire to check the progress of the others. The swordsman's arm had been cleaved from his torso and cauterized to stop him from bleeding to death. While he was still alive, Haudom was pale as fallen snow and unconscious from the pain, with his labored breathing being the only indication that he was indeed still alive. At this point, the first rays of sunshine began to shine through the dense fog, but some of the men were still standing idly around talking in hushed voices near the executioner of the amputation herself, Aleida. The Prince could not make out what they were saying, but it was unimportant to him regardless, they weren't following orders.


"Come on, now," Ceril raised his voice to a serious tone. "Quit your gawking and gossiping -- load him up on the mule and finish packing. We're but a few hour's journey from Pratchet and I'd like to arrive before we're ambushed once more. Step to it!"


The auxiliaries and servants scattered much like a flock of fleeing pigeons as they returned to work, leaving alone Aleida who sat by the fire, appearing either deep in thought or troubled; possibly both. Sighing and forming a tight frown with his lips, he knelt to level with his friend and brought an ungloved hand gingerly to her cheek, tilting her head up just a hair so her gaze would meet his.


"Allie-dear? You didn't have to be the one to do it, you know. Jerun looked as if he were going to make a grab for an axe himself and get it over with, you know how close those two are," Ceril explained, still wearing a concerned expression. "I guess it doesn't matter too much in the end, but I wanted to make sure you're well -- well enough to continue on and ride and fight. If you've any lingering thoughts, I will be audient to you."


(@Poe)

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

“She didn’t even flinch. What kind of woman…”


The words were the same, each one unraveling the frayed threads of Aleida’s patience. She had seen their faces, she knew what the others had to think of her. Cold, probably, unapproachable — the kind of woman who would chop off a man’s arm and walk away to toss it in the fire herself. Even Marnie had been in tears, Dembly vomited at the site, and Aleida merely sat along the fire’s edge and watched the last of the skin cackle in the fire, popping in disgusting sounds and the miasma from the wound boiling. Whether it was safe to sit that close, she did not know, but she made no attempt to move from her spot. To many, she seemed unmoved, but there was a tempest in her mind.


She, in no way, had wished to execute the amputation but their survival relied on their departure to Pratchett and there was hesitation on all ends. Someone had to do it, someone had to take responsibility and Aleida knew it had to be her. Kepheus already despised her, many of the auxiliary and archers thinking her a fool, perhaps it was only right to take the blame and shoulder the burden of Haudom’s disability. Perhaps if they had a common enemy other than the Mockery, they could find a way out of this damned fog alive.


Ceril’s voice did not frighten her outwardly, though she had not expected to hear him ordering the gossiping men to ready for their departure. She, too, should have obliged and headed Rowan for departure, but she needed another moment. Only when his bare hand touched her face and tilted her head up, did she finally look up at him through her lashes, her eyes still as piercing a blue as ever even in the density of the fog. It was a cool touch against the fireside heat of her skin and she could not help herself as she leaned a bit into his touch. She felt a bit selfish, honestly. Ceril had a great many tasks to complete and an entourage to command, but here he was crouched before her, wearing an expression of complete concern, promising his ear to her should she be wary.


“If it had been me,” Aleida said simply, her voice soft though still carrying the same conviction, “If I had been in Haudom’s place, I would never ask you to do it. I would not wish that burden on you, not in a million lifetimes.”


“You said it yourself, we are leaders and cannot afford to hesitate to make decisions or act upon those decisions. I did it because it needed to be done,” Aleida glanced towards the fire before finding Ceril’s gaze once again. “The ooze began to consume his flesh, even when I tossed it in the fire — he would not have just lost his arm, he would have lost his life had we not amputated when we did.”


She knew it was the right call and her father had always told her that men could live without limbs or love, but they could not live without life coursing through their veins. Pain was a temporary occupational hazard of living and Haudom would live, though he would have to work through quite a bit to find purpose — but she was confident he would. Good men, as her father had once explained once while they were sparring, found ways to survive even when the odds seemed impossible. Back then, it had just seemed like mindless preaching and Aleida would roll her eyes at the idea of men in general. But her father was a good man, a smart man, and she was slowly beginning to see how much he actually knew.


“I am always well enough to ride on, and you know I cannot turn down a fight,” Aleida said with a bit more of her usual tone breaking through the early morning fog. “There is no need to dwell, only to move forward. Haudom is alive and that is cause enough to keep moving.”


Her hand overlaid his gently and she curled her fingers around his palm as to hold his hand in her grip for only a few moments. There were words she wanted to say, but they caught deeply in her throat. Perhaps it was always meant to remain unspoken and instead she held onto the calloused skin of his hand and thanked whatever God was listening for Ceril’s presence. She did not want to waste his time with her petty musings, as they had more important matters to attend to, but the thought that at least one person did not think her a poor excuse for a woman was enough to help her off her feet and carry her forward.


(@Coin)

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL

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Aleida's familiar warmth again found itself clasped around his own hand as silence once again fell between the two. Though the pause was wordless, their gazes were locked and their hearts yearned for the other; an understanding had been met. They must press forward, for their own sake, for the sake of everyone that relied on their guidance in this forsaken realm of darkness and shadows -- marred by a curse unholy. And so, with the vigor in his veins, he found Aleida's other hand with his, tightening his grip on both and gently pressed his forehead to hers.


"Let's go, then," Ceril nodded and spoke softly, the heat of intimacy warm on his skin.


The Prince pulled away after just a moment longer, his hands still holding her's. Ceril stood and pulled Aleida from her seat by the dying fire, leading her to Rowan. There, he helped her sling riding bags and saddle up on her mount as a lingering comfort before they set off once more into the treacherous road.


Once she and her things were secured, Ceril glanced back up to meet her gaze before they set off into the treacherous unknown once more, "Keep your eyes sharp and your wits about -- shout out if you see any of the devils. See you on the road."


(@Veirrianna Valentine)

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

​

“...Is everything alright, Sire?”


Arabella revealed herself within the morning light just as she were the night before. It was as though she were left in a state of simple perfection untouched by the stresses of the Veil as her red hair cascaded down past her shoulders. She did not look marred and torn like Haudom, and looked far more responsive and far from ill. Alexander couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief at her appearance of well being. He didn't even pick up on the servant's subtle unease upon her exit from the tent.


Just as Alexander opened his mouth to respond, Konoha interrupted. He quickly snapped his mouth shut and nodded his head in greeting to the servant. He was a knight checking up on a servant for personal concern and knew how that might look should he reveal his intentions. Alexander straightened his stance, adorning his professional air as he addressed both servants equally.


"Everything is alright," he said. As if on cue, Haudom's shrill cry of agony pierced through the fog accompanied with the dull chop of an axe through flesh and bone that lodged itself into wood. Alexander paused and waited for the man's shout of pain to die out to sobs. "We should be leaving soon, and we need to get the entire camp packed as soon as possible. We'll be carrying an injured soldier with us that will need proper care as we progress."


With that, he nodded to the two and turned about to leave, his mind easing back into his duties as he went through a mental check list.

---On The Road---

​

Escovet seemed to be getting used to the fog. The mare carried Alexander in her usual lethargic undulation, her head slightly low as she walked along the path. Alexander kept in stride with Lady Edina and found her presence, even if silent and only within his peripheral, a comfort. After what transpired with Gwendalin, he needed his dear friend once again to help keep his compassionate mind in focus. She always did have a particular aura about her; some sort of commanding presence that could set any man's mind to task.


The road to Pratchet was grey and everywhere Alex looked he was met with the wash of the fog. It began to hurt his eyes the way it made things look out of focus. It also set his mind on pins and needles causing paranoia to elicit tricks of the eye. The passing tree would be mistaken for a Mockery or some lone figure standing out in the mist. For a time all was quiet, and the only sounds came from the shuffling of weary feet or the clopping of hooves as they trudged through the soft dirt road. As a low, guttural growl called through the fog, Alexander prompted his horse to halt and turned his head to the direction of the sound. This was not like anything he encountered yet, and his hand reached for his bow slowly.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnie helped Haudom to his feet while the others whispered among themselves. Tabor came forward to take his friend, and for a moment Marnie locked eyes with the other man. He spit once and took hold of Haudom's waist, and together the two of them managed to get him onto his donkey. Marnie patted the poor man's leg as he sobbed and cried, and she herself felt like weeping out of desperation as well. Her morning had started off so... hopefully. She swallowed as Tabor looked back at her with haunted eyes and shook his head before leading the animal back into the entourage.


Marnie wiped her face, aware that she had tear tracks down her cheeks as well as snot out of her nose, and she readied everything for the journey ahead. Now that they knew the lances would be no good in the wagon, seeing as if it were attacked, Edina was good as cooked, Marnie made sure to put an extra in the side slot of Covil's saddle harnesses. Marnie prayed her teacher would never need to use two. With that, the young squire took up her bow, counted her arrows, cursed vehemently at the low number, and waddled her way to the supply wagon where all of their things had been packed.


On the road, things were fuzzier than ever. The hard seat bit into her hip bones through the plate armor, and her ribs screamed with indignant rage in her chest. The pain had mounted her like a rider mounts his steed, and it was running her ragged. She swallowed as she tried to keep her focus, her one dagger still in her bag at her side, as well as the shiv she'd taken from the farmer before they had left. Good Lord -- had it only been two days since they'd been in this blasted mist? Three, since she'd seen the sun in its fullness? She took a shuddering breath as a growl echoed somewhere nearby.


She kept her head down and still, merely urging on the single horse. Her grip on the reins tightened as the growling slowly grew louder and louder, guttural and feral as starved dogs in a cage. They reminded her of the mutts that ran wild at the edges of the towns, the kind that her father had to beat back with his own men so they would stop harassing their folk. They had always seemed so overly eager to rend, to tear, and to kill. Yet, they'd been mangy things, easily kicked away and scared off. But this...


Marnie looked sidelong into the fog as they approached a looming fortress, far off into the distance. Her wound beat with every pulse. Her head seemed full of cotton. Just let us get to Pratchett. Just let us find something alive out here. Anything alive.


"You remember what Pratchett was like?" Marnie asked, trying to distract herself from the pain in her chest, turning to both Edina and Ser Vallane.

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Edina had slept the night away rather peacefully once more, having cleared yet another section of her burdened conscious. There no dreams or nightmares, just darkness until she woke before to an orange sky. Right before sunrise, as per usual, she had awoken if not sore from their last encounter. She got dressed, got armored and went to begin on taking down her tent since she figured that Marnia could still use the rest. Luckily for her, this course of action saved her from being in the presence of Haudum losing a limb. So long as noone could find her, she wouldn't be bothered for it. Once everything was in check she ordered the first few soldiers and servants he could find to start moving supplies to the remaining wagon.


--------------- On the Road ------------------


Everything seemed to settle down as the entourage got on the move again. Covil was in higher spirits this time and wasn't limping as much. It seemed all he needed was a good night's rest as well. Edina had elected to travel with a lance in hand now, given it's effectiveness against already wounded parts of the mockery, she just had to not miss. Marnia had taken it upon herself to fit an extra lance to Covil's saddle, an idea she made sure to compliment the squire on. Alexander was keeping pace with herself and for once she didn't mind it. Every now and then a passing glance was sent his way as they rode, but the silence was needed. Edina wasn't keen on being ambushed twice in a row if they weren't being careful. She wanted to be on watch, but she knew she couldn't be caught jumping at the slightest sound of a twig breaking.


But of course, she wasn't accounting for what she would hear next. The low growl that sounded from behind them drew her to a stop right beside Alex and her grip on her lance tightened. It sounded nothing like what they had faced before, and that put that inkling of fear right back inside of her. "Marnie stop." She said before putting Covil on a trot towards Alexander and placing a hand on his shoulder, shooting him a glance before turning to look towards the Prince. "My Prince, the noise seems distant, but different from what we've experienced so far. I would suggest you make haste for Pratchet with the troops." She paused and squeezed lightly against the armor of her fellow night. "I'd also suggest that both Sir Vallane and I go back and do recon on.....whatever it is that made that noise." It'd be a risky shot to take, but so was everything nowadays. And they couldn't afford to be in the dark, especially in the veil.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

She had thought her suspicions, awakened by the memory of that dream, might abate as the morning went on, but there was something about Alexander's visit that had set her more on edge. She was a servant, expendable... unnecessary, yet she had an unconscious sense that he had visited her specifically. Yet she had not been the only one injured the day prior and she was not in his cell. She might have convinced herself that his presence was innocent, that it had been their conversation the previous evening that had him concerned, but she couldn't help but think it was his own need for reassurance that brought him to her tent. Guilt, after all, was a powerful motivator.


Still, whatever their conversation might have been, it was interrupted by Konoha and Arabella couldn't be sure if she was grateful for that, or not. Later, after they had packed the camp and started out again she decided it was the latter. However uneasy she might have been to discover Alexander's involvement in her father's murder, she was also profoundly curious. Why had he pretended not to know her? Who was the man that had attacked her? There were so many unanswered questions that he seemed only too content to avoid, but she was not about to let that happened. For so many years now she had been in the dark, whether he wanted to or not, Alexander was going to grant her illumination...


After camp was packed, Arabella joined Marnie on the supply wagon, but neither of them, it seemed were in much of a mood to talk. Marnie looked uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally, but however it hurt to see her friend in pain, Bella could do little for her, and so she fixed her eyes on the riders ahead of them, instead and fell deep into her thoughts.


It was the unspeakable sound that drew her out again, that terrible guttural growl, distant, but not distant enough. Sitting up straighter, she looked to Marnie, to the others around them. From her position in the cart she could hear Edina's suggestion and her heart fluttered as she considered what it might mean for the two of them to wander after whatever creature was out there. It was more than dangerous, it was foolish and she hoped desperately that Ceril would deny the request. They were, all of them, capable enough to imagine what might have made that noise - and it seemed in all their best interest to continue forward. If something were to happen... If she never got the chance to speak with Alexander...

 

[korigon]

Kepheus Kerberos awoke to the stale, cold smell of morning. His hands and legs were stiff, a feeling he had experienced far too much. The old soldier dressed himself meticulously, endimg his composed dressing by slinging a dull brown cloak over his padded jack. His sword, a thing worn out by constant use, was inserted into a scabbard he had been gifted, a 'prize' for staying alive despite being in so many battles. It was cheap, painted with drab colors, but it did the trick. Kepheus himself would have preferred a handful of coins, but to say anything other than 'I adore this scabbard.' would be considered disrespectful.


He stayed in his tent for some time, mulling over the previous nights events. Perhaps he could pretend he never knew Kabato, and deny that he ever even talked to the man. Was it possible that he was Ceril's spy, a person tasked with discovering what the auxiliaries discussed while those in authority were away? Surely there was someone who was doing it, for even an inept ruler knew to appoint someone to the task. Who better than Kabanana, a man between the title of servant and soldier?


It was a troubling matter, but not one that deserved his attention at the present time. Kepheus exited his tent to the sweet scent of blood, a smell so familiar to the one who had spend years on the battlefield.

-THE ROAD TO PRATCHET-

​

The sound, the growl, whatever it was, caused several auxiliaries to draw their weapons. The discord between sword and sheath rang clear in the air. Was it another distorted noise from what they had called mockeries, or was it something new, a creature even more vicious and alien to the group? The question was clear in many hearts, with many doing their best to put on a brave face. None, save perhaps Kepheus, wished to face an organized attack by the mockeries again. Atleast that was what Kepheus thought, until the red-headed knight suggested that she go check their flank, alongside Alexander Vallane. What insane game were they playing? They had tried to venture forward when the entourage had first encountered the mockery, and now they wished to venture backwards, away from the safety of an organized group?


Kepheus coughed, barely suppressing a bewildered chuckle. Surely Ceril Ambryn would not grant such a request.

 

[Chordling]

.

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

Aleida’s focus had been compromised. The ride to Pratchet proved to be an exhausting one as her thoughts teetered between the aching of her muscles and Ceril’s actions. His hands had captured her own, forehead pressed against her’s, in a wordless promise. They had to make it back and they would, together. A part of her wished her ruffled feathers weren’t so easily smoothed by Ceril’s presence, but she was glad he was beside her. They’d spent the better part of their childhood traversing through forests and running in the early dawn to inform the other of whatever adventure they had planned. Aleida’s mother had jostled her from sleep more than once in the early hours to inform her that Ceril was there and the two would quickly shovel down a breakfast before running off.


All the while, her mother calling out about staying warm and being home by supper.


But they had always been friends, protecting one another and making quips to keep their egos in check. Perhaps it was the Veil, distorting their vision, or the threat of death but whatever it was — something had changed. The entire entourage depended on their guidance to survive and that put them in a tough spot — he was the only one she could trust with her true feelings, though she was finding maybe she always had.


The only thing that pulled her from her thoughts was the sound of a deep growl, multi-toned and chilling. At first, it had done nothing more than freeze her and Rowan, but the second sound began to reveal the origins of the sound. It was familiar — or worse yet — they were familiar sounds. “Ceril,” Aleida called out, Rowan taking the hint to move forward towards the Prince who seemed struck by the sound. “What do you think the likelihood is that those creatures can control animals?”


Aleida and Ceril had hunted nearly their entire lives together out in the woods. Their adventures had been long ones and they did not always abide by her mother’s wishes to be back by supper, leaving them to fend for themselves. They killed only what was necessary — but it meant she had heard the squeals and growls of angry, hurt animals more than once. That…that thing off in the distance, it wasn’t human. Though Edina and Alexander still volunteered to go off and scout.


“We have to move,” she said just loud enough for Ceril to hear, not wanting to alert the rest of the entourage until absolutely necessary.


(@Coin)

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


"Now is not the time for glory, Edina, Alexander. We will continue to Pratchet as we are -- a group, and we will also fight together as such," Ceril had Ohry trot ahead to the front of their column. "You two take up the rear flanks, Aleida and I will take the front. Everyone else, box formation! Let your line collapse if we are charged again, reform it immediately when our attackers are within the box. We'll surround them on all sides and counterattack."


Ceril rode with Aleida a short distance so he could respond to her, "I'm willing to wager those devils will take anything that moves."


A box formation was slow, slower that than the pace of their travel column but Ceril was running out of options. The maniple phalanx was no longer viable for an enemy like the Mockery, and if they continued on with failing strategies they would soon be left with so few men, no formation would be possible at all. Their slower pace only heightened tensions, there were no more growls and no new screeches, only the plentiful silence that the Veil had to offer. Ceril prayed that their prior experience with the monsters of the fog would begin to prepare them for potential combat.


Academies always stressed quick thinking, being able to adapt to the rapidly changing sway of the battlefield. Though the training stuck, no amount of strategic flanking, swinging close of a line, or heavy cavalry charge could quite prepare anyone for the bone chilling predatory choir of synchronized howls followed by thundering thuds of heavy footfalls that bound from their right flank. From the fog emerged a lone monster, nearly four men in height and on all fours.

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With the head of the largest wolf Ceril had ever seen and with body and limb, lanky and exaggerated, it charged headlong at the formation. As it neared, it became very clear through sight and smell that it was a rotting amalgamation of many animals and men bound in bone and viscera. The thing's chest was bare of flesh and muscle and skin, instead a sinister prison of bony ribs harboring corpses as the prisoners, sloshing about in a gory stew. Ceril saw that some of the the corpses in its chest-prison had the napes of their necks splayed open like a flower, their flesh decayed a sickly black -- telltale signs of the Mockery. This thing, this Kinslayer, held no conditional bias on its victims, all of flesh and life were prey alike.


Men scattered out of fear, likely not with his previous orders in mind. One soldier, Farrah, was not quite fast enough, as she tried to outrun the hunter. She let out one gasping scream as she was crushed under a man-sized paw, decomposing and raw. The crunching of broken wood and the creaking of bent metal were quickly followed by a sickening squish of collapsed bones and organs. With her death, the monstrosity paused and plucked up Farrah's crushed body, adding it to the prison of its ribs. At least she passed quickly.


"Reform the line!" Ceril called out, riding to fill the gap himself. "Disable the limbs!"

Spoiler

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/57a8c4f8aef1e_TheMockery-Kinslayer1.jpg.a9bb991c0b7d2f8e1771b994a039307c.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="79002" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/57a8c4f8aef1e_TheMockery-Kinslayer1.jpg.a9bb991c0b7d2f8e1771b994a039307c.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


A/N: Note, this above picture does not completely match the Kinslayer attacking the Entourage. Sans the creepy little girls and chains. Add the ribs and corpse, as well as stitch its body together from the corpses of other creatures. Wolf head remains the same.


(@Veirrianna Valentine, @Poe)

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

​

He spared a glance to Edina after her suggestion was denied, and nudged Escovet back into formation by Prince Ceril's command. Upon entry into the Veil, Alexander had made the very same suggestion to investigate the mimicking flute, to which they all eventually discovered the origins to be the Mockery. The result was the loss of supplies and sustained injuries across the entourage. Would scouting ahead have changed that fate to any degree? He could only ever guess, but never really know. Never the less, the conversation he had with Edina the other night lingered in Alexander's mind. This place wasn't safe to continue for too long in their current state. Perhaps they could garner an audience with the prince to express their concerns and pray it doesn't fall on deaf ears as all of their suggestions had been so far.


Escovet trotted back to the end of the caravan, his eyes carrying through the foot soldiers and servants as he passed. Out of all the weary, hesitant gazes that glanced about the fog in light of the otherworldly growl, there was only one man who looked collected and possibly unphased by the unknown predator that lurked outside Pratchet. Kepheus likely only suffered from social shortcomings, but from what Alexander could gather within the short time they traveled, this was a man who had likely known many horrors in his past. A man of war. A man of strategy. And here Alexander was atop a horse willing his heartbeat to slow so that he could better think before anything terrible happened. Inferiority crept into the back of his mind reminding him that it was likely his great grandfather's reputation that granted him a position as knight.


Chills flowed down his spine as howls merged in dissonance within the thick haze, and Escovet kicked back her head in her unease. Thoomp thoomp thoomp. A creature of unnatural proportions revealed itself, its silhouette a conglomerate of shapes and uneven sizes. As it emerged into the visual plane, Alexander paused in the horror of such a monstrous beast. It was almost too surreal, and had Prince Ceril not called out a new set of commands Alexander would have deemed it a hallucination. The creature charged the entourage, and Alexander kicked the flanks of Escovet to urge her forward. She resisted at first, her head thrashing in refute as she whinnied in protest. He kicked her flanks again, and she spurted forward.


In his training, Alexander learned how to shoot a bow from atop a moving horse. He was a fairly accurate shot and enjoyed the sport of it, but as he knocked the arrow to the string and aimed at the beast he understood this was very different than the controlled environment and painted canvas targets back home. The command was to disable the limbs, yet its limbs were so thin and were moving about at a swift pace. Alexander let loose his arrow, and it lodged itself into the meat of its forearm.


The use of his bow reminded the knight of what he had promised the night before. His head turned and he searched for Arabella among the caravan and found her sitting upon one of the supply wagons. With a quick turn of the reigns, Alexander quickly wove into the entourage and held out his bow towards the servant girl completely unaware that Arabella had been given a bow the previous night. "Arabella," he called out to garner her attention. "My apologies, I should have given this to you sooner."

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnie's eyes were wide as saucers, staring at the horrid creature that had burst out of the fog and was advancing towards their group. Ceril called out orders, and everything was chaos from then in. Marnie fought to control the pack horse, the animal whinnying with terror and trying its hardest to bolt into the forest -- and, unbeknownst to them, possibly into the arms of something worse than the creature that was accosting them. Marnie swore viciously as she managed to steer the horse around, riding back into formation with the rest of the group. She stared with dull horror as one of the auxiliary soldiers, a woman Marnie had handed food to just that morning, was crushed beneath a spindly leg. Her heart froze in her chest as she watched the suddenly turn into a heap of bones and organs. Blood rushed in her ears as the creature lifted the limp sack of flesh to its rib cage, and her stomach heaved with the sight of so many corpses.


She didn't have time to take aim with her bow, which sat just beside her. She was too occupied with trying to keep her cart from flying away and into the yonder with the horse screeching in fright. Her stomach refused to stay still as the young squire ran over in her mind now the bones had snapped with a sickening finality, the bloodstains on the cobbles where she once stood just a second before. It had been so quick. Marnie had never seen someone die so quickly, nor so gruesomely. After three days of having been crushed by falling tree -- yes. After an hour when a cart had trapped an old man beneath its wheels -- yes. But squashed like a bug, so quickly, so painfully?


She'd just been alive that morning. How can someone who was alive this morning be dead right now?


Marnie kept her eyes on the creature, dimly aware that from the back of the wagon, Ivar was firing shots as fast as he could muster. Alexander had pulled up close by, and the rest of the soldiers were trying to keep formation. What bloody good is 'at gunna do? It'll just break right through. The thing's huge! With her heart hammering and her ribs throbbing, she raised her eyes to the prison of ribs in its undersection, captivated by the swinging limps of hundreds of corpses --


A familiar head and shoulder swung limply from inside, and Marnie let loose a whimper, her hold on the horse momentarily slack. Brown hair, brown eyes, full mouth and snubbed nose -- armor made of cheap iron, marked with a huge M by some journeyman blacksmith too proud of his work for his own good -- a hand as delicate as a bird's wing with the ring Marnie gave him after Yule --


"Mergan," Marnie sobbed as she held back the horses. "Mergan! Mergan! You son of a --!"


A great paw came down on top of Marnie's horse, destroying it in an instant. Marnie rocked forward as the cart lost its front support, and she was thrown to the cobblestones below, right next to the clawed arm that was dragging the squealing, fighting horse. In a grief-stricken rage, she rolled back to her feet, ripped the rusty shiv from her bag on the ground, and began to stab the limb as it wrenched away with the horse.

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

There had been little time to prepare for what they came upon. A wretched beast, a monster in the flesh. Standing on four legs was what appeared to be a wolf-like creature near four men in height and with humans rotting within its exposed chest. The smell was rancid, filling the air with death itself and though Rowan kept moving, Aleida’s thoughts were frozen for a moment. It seemed that these creatures did not care as to whom they destroyed, just so long as the rotting flesh became their own.


Within only moments, the formation had broken much in the same way a stone shattered stained glass. There were heartbreaking yelps of fear but it only served to entice the beast further. In one swift movement, Farrah was crushed underfoot and her once able body contorted into a pile of flesh and bone, drenched in the blood that spurt from her skin. At once, she was collected and placed within the chest cavity, like a trophy of some sorts, or a grave warning to any who thought themselves capable of killing such a beast.


Ceril called out to disable the limbs and immediately, Aleida drew and landed a few shots in the front right leg, piercing the flesh but doing nothing more than aggravating the beast. It swung its decomposing paws viciously and with incredible precision as they must have looked like mere ants to a beast so large. Marnie’s cries echoed as Aleida watched the supply wagon attacked again and one of the horses pulled from the wreckage. In order to disable the limbs, they needed an advantage or else it would just keep dodging and hitting its target. One by one they would be consumed into that pit-like chest and their skin would be blackened with a terrible death. But, she wondered, if it were truly part wolf as the head and paws indicated, it was a hunter.


They had to go for the eyes, or the nose, any sense that would make it a fearsome predator. “Ivar, Dembly!” Aleida called out and the two archers glanced up to her, watching the way her eyes led up towards their target, and they spread out, Aleida riding closest to the right while Dembly and Ivar situated themselves. Arrows flew from all angles, Dembly’s not quite making it to the head but following Ceril’s orders of keeping the limbs at bay while Ivar and Aleida shot at the head, trying to harm it in any way they could. “I-If we b-blind it,” Dembly called out, the nerves causing her to stutter a bit. “Y-You can t-take out the l-legs!”


Aleida pulled her arrow back as she watched Ivan pierce the snout with one of his own arrows, quickly running as the creature picked its paw from the dead horse by the cart and swung at him, narrowly missing him. With the head lowered, Aleida took her shot, firing off two arrows in succession as one pierced the flesh just underneath the eye and the second landed on its mark, buried deep in the eye with black pitch-like blood pouring from the wound. It let out a terrible cry, almost a screech as the paw swung full force in the opposite direction towards Aleida. She and Rowan had already begun their retreat backwards but Rowan wasn’t fast enough.


With an immeasurable strength, Aleida was knocked from her horse by the paw, her body hurdling back away from the line and hitting the ground with a sickening thud near the beast itself. Her arms having braced it enough so that no bones were shattered but her head knocked against the rough terrain, blood dripping from a wound sliced on the side of her forehead, and body limp as she fell near-unconscious on impact. The sound of a pained wolf and it’s nearing steps the only thing echoing in her mind.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

It was like watching a nightmare come to life. She had never been privy to dream of this particular haunting quality, but no ghost story she had been told by drunken knights in her father's shop could possibly compare the create that clattered from the trees. It was painfully evident the Veil had not yet begun to show them it's horrors. It was with a strange sense of detachment that Arabella watched the violence unfold, her fear white hot, a burning in the depths of her.


It was Alexander's voice which drew her to full consciousness and as she spun to see the outstretched bow she vaguely remember the offer he had made the night before. There was no time to doubt him, no time to doubt herself or her skills. The thing was closing in, coming for the carts again, and she would be damned before she allowed it to take her. Her hand wrapped around the arch of the bow and she took it from Alex's grasp as she spun, just in time to hear Marnie calling out, to see the awful thing crush the horse. That damnable horse she'd nearly lost her arms to save. Fear swelled, but something else gripped in that moment... a cold anger. A demand for action. From the corner of her eye she saw it nearing Marnie, saw the girl slashing at it, stabbing at it with a crude knife - saw the Lady Aleida, her own bow working swiftly...


"If it's bigger than you, Bells, go for the eyes. If it can't see you, it can't defend itself..." Her father's voice rang in her head and all at once she could feel his lessons return to her.


Rooting her feet, she produced an arrow and nocked it and pulled back, tempering the quaking in her hands with the tautness of the bow. She could not lose herself to nerves. She could not. For Marnie's sake. For Aleida, who had braved everything the day before to save her life.


Twisting, she let the arrow fly and was gripping a second by the time the first struck the creature in the fleshy mass of it's enormous snout. The second arrow followed suit, and found purchase in the socket of the already injured eye. The thing had turned, twisted with a howl and set after Aleida and without thinking, Arabella clambered up onto the bench of the cart and took a balanced straddle across it and the front beam. Sucking in a breath she held it, drawing back another arrow and releasing. The arrow sailed with accuracy that would have swelled her father with price, piecing the second eyes, dead center.


Satisfied, she slung the bow over her shoulder and dropped down, out of the cart entirely. There was motion everywhere, no one stagnant, but Bella ignored the flurry of movement as she raced, light-footed, to Aleida's side, skidding to a halt, nearly tripping over her downed form.


"Oh, God. Don't die... don't die." She muttered, half to herself, half to Aleida, and knelt down, dropping the bow and ripping a strip from the hem of her dress. She balled the fabric and pressed it tightly to the wound. In her mind she knew the thing was coming, knew it was coming for Aleida, but she couldn't risk moving. She had to hope the volley of arrows to the creature's face, her own included, had been enough to blind it. That the others would finish the horrible beast off.


"Please don't die..."

@Poe

 

[korigon]

Kepheus Kerberos


How had he managed to get himself involved in such a paltry group of soldiers? Though the monster was something out of nightmares, they ran like terrified chickens, not even attempting to combat the menace. Were they so untrained that they were not even able to stand and defeater a mightier foe with unity?


Apparently so!


But these thoughts vanished from Kepheus' mind as he was enveloped by the battle. There was no more fear or annoyance in his heart, no more bitterness at his fellow auxiliary. Now was the time to fight, and if there was one thing he excelled in, it was battle. His sword, though at his side, would not be an ample weapon. The archers already doing their work, but Kepheus was fully anticipating them being routed by the 'kinslayer' soon. No, if they were to defeat the beast, they would have to juggle the aggression and tire it. Assuming, of course, it was not smart enough to pick them off one by one. If it was that intelligent, their entourage would soon meet a grisly fate.


True to his prediction, the wolf-like mutation charged the band of archers. He watched, not without a rather insolent twitch of lips, as Aleida Gregory was thrown her horse. Served her right. But there was no time for gloating, and despite their differences Kepheus had no intention of letting the prince's plaything actually die. A servant, the servant who Northwode had slapped, jumped to Gregory's aid- What was she going to do to help? Did they have some sort of bizarre death pact?! Nevertheless, he produced a javelin from his side, a crude-looking staff tipped with iron, and assumed the necessary throwing position. They had better be grateful for their lives.


The spear took flight. It was a beautiful thing, a marvel in itself. No one payed any attention to it. They were all too busy running around like decapitated chickens. It struck right beneath the eye of the creature, the rust-flecked tip sinking right into the flesh. The beast howled, an unearthly, shuddering noise, and turned its presence towards him instead of the injured duo. Now all he had to do was wait and to distract the creature. Surely someone else would have the intelligence to do so.


Or so Kepheus hoped.

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


He should have known better. Despite how weak the legs appeared compared to the rest of its body, the flesh was tough and hard to cut much like the rest of the Mockery. His soldiers had quickly adapted with volley after volley of arrows towards the Kinslayer's eyes and snout which enraged it, but noticeably shook the monster's senses. Even terrorizing the ranks, their


assault had not yet faltered.





Ceril's heart dropped when he saw Aleida hit the ground in a prone heap. She was the first to strike a solid blow on the Kinslayer's eye, earning a vicious sweep and a screeching howl of pain that reverberated through the Prince's bones. Ceril brought Ohry to a charge to intercept the thing before it could finish Aleida but they would not make it in time before..before..-- His heart beat faster than the thumping of hooves on solid earth as he shook away the thoughts. To his relief and his surprise, Aleida's savior would be the servant, Arabella; armed with a yew bow and indomitable courage. A second arrow lodged itself into the golden eyes of the Kinslayer as it reeled back in its charge to howl in pain. It scratched blindly at its snout and face with rotted paws, breaking off the arrows that had peppered the snarling visage before continuing its advance towards Arabella and Aleida to add them to its sinister collection.


Riding closer, it appeared Edina had the same strategy as Ceril, just from the opposite direction. Drawing his sword from its sheath, Ceril raised the blade into the air and shouted for his fellow knight, "Edina! Now!"

Spoiler

[media]

[/media]



The Prince dropped the visor on his helmet with a metallic clink and lowered his figure along Ohry's spine as his combat instructors had taught him. Edina had also understood the message, lowering herself to a charge and bringing her steed to full speed. At this rate, they'd both intercept the Kinslayer before it could finish the killing blow on Arabella and Aleida. Still, Ceril prayed and prayed that it would work -- that his steed wouldn't veer off course in fear -- that the beast wouldn't ignore the two cavaliers -- that Arabella could drag Aleida away in time.


Ceril didn't notice it, but he was yelling from the adrenaline of combat by the time his sword managed a sweeping blow at the Kinslayer's jaw. His attack bounced off the thick skeleton and rattled the bones in his arm till they were numb. The Prince narrowly evaded a blind swipe at him and his steed but as he rode past, Edina expertly drove her lance through the snout of the beast, sending it into a pained frenzy as it swatted in all directions, trying smother unseen assailants.


There were too many injured and scattered in the vicinity. With not enough horses and carts, there was no way the entire entourage could maneuver as a group with enough speed and there certainly wasn't a surefire way to defeat this monster in an open field without sustaining more losses. Pratchet was their only option and only those on horseback would be able to outrun the Kinslayer. The Prince brought Ohry to a brief halt and sheathed his sword. On the other hand, he had secured their siege engine.


"Edina and Alexander are with me! We'll lead the beast to Pratchet -- the rest of you, gather yourselves and follow the road! Meet us at the gates!" Ceril barked over the painful cries of the monstrosity.


The Prince unbuckled the mace from his side and let it fly with all his might. The metal bludgeon collided squarely at the base of its skull, an easy target at this range. This renewed the Kinslayer's temper as it pointed its snout in Ceril's direction, staring with bloodied and blind eyes before it began to charge at the Prince. He didn't even need to spur Ohry on as they fled the battleground and back on the road to Pratchet, with the demon chasing their stride.


(@Poe, @Elle Joyner @Space Cowboy Ein, @Effervescent)

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Lady Edina Maplecroft


Edina wasn't going to have time to lament on the decision to not go out onto a scouting mission because their mystery beast was coming to them. She backed Covil away from Alexander at the sound of something large coming their way. She gripped her lance and held tightly onto Covil's reins as the thundering steps grew closer. When their new opponent did emerge from the mist, Edina had to admit that she certainly hadn't expected the wolf-like creature. It was...ghastly at best, the size was enough to cause her to pause for a moment and her eyes drifted down to the rib cage of the beast. Her eyes drew wide at the bodies, human or not, that sloshed around inside of it and then down to the crushed corpse of Farrah. "God...." She whispered to herself. Nobody deserved that kind of death, quick as it was.


She would have been stuck in that frozen state if it wasn't for Marnie's voice calling out a name she'd heard time and time before. Mergan.... Edina blinked and looked again at the scrambled bodies and she could see the telltale signs of one of Marnie's brothers. Her brow furrowed in discontent. For the days leading up to their trip into the veil Edina had learned even more about the siblings of her squire and how they had been lost to veil not so long ago. The fact to see one of them in that situation made her glad in a grim way that she had lost her father to illness and not the veil had he lived long enough.


She couldn't dwell on it though, she didn't want to let anyone else die or end up inside of that things....stomach. And so, she swallowed and set Covil off into a gallop to get to the beast's flank. As she did, she spotted Ceril making the same form of maneuver. He called to her and she nodded, she understood, and when the time came, she charged. The eyes were taken out, more or less, which meant one of the last weak points to strike to strike was the poor excuse for a snout or the mouth. Either would be a large enough target for her to hit. And so she hunkered down in her saddle as Ceril made his pass and mentally thanked him for drawing it to face her in its attempt to get him. It couldn't have been any more perfect as she drove the tip of the lance into the snout as far as she could before letting it go and continuing on.


Not long after did she hear the prince call out to her again along with Alexander. They were to draw the beast away from the battle and towards Pratchet, and Ceril did a good enough job of gaining its attention. Her heart sank as the monstrosity charged at them almost as if it weren't afflicted at all. But she would not be awestruck and frozen and soon Covil was off to a gallop slightly behind the prince but well ahead of the kinslayer. Sure they could run, but the last thing they needed was that thing in the city with them. So what would their plan be? She didn't bother to ask, now was simply one of those times to just shut up and follow orders.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

It was funny, how the mind worked. In those few moments when death seemed inevitable, three thoughts occurred to the young servant girl. The first was the most desperate hope that on the other side, her father might recognize her. The second was a recollection of her conversation the night prior with Marnie and her admitted lack of most social experiences. The third and possibly most poignant was of the infernal Alexander Vallane. Not, as she imagined it might be, the haunting reminder of her terrible past, but memories fresh and alive. It was infuriating, and incidentally, the spark needed to will her to action once more.


Kepheus, for all his misery and angst managed a spectacular throw with his javelin, distracting the beast and giving her enough time to loop her hands beneath Aledia's underarms. As Ceril and Edina came upon the creature's flank, she tugged as hard as she could, digging her heels into the soft earth to drag the woman, dead-weighted, away, out of the fray. Once cleared from the wolfen thing's proximity, she lowered Aleida back to the ground and looked around, spotting the Friesian a short distance away.


Half-hearing the Prince's instructions, she glanced back to see him and the two knights leading the monstrosity away, and her heart gave a pang at the thought of the three of them facing the horror alone - but they were leaders for a reason, and they would prevail. They had to.


Bending down again, she tore another strip of cloth from the bottom of her dress, which she used to tie the first ball of fabric to Aleida's head wound. She ensured the makeshift tourniquet held, before she rose and made for the black stallion. He was spooked, pawing anxiously at the dirt, sweat beading around his velvet snout, foaming the edges of his mouth, and Arabella approached slowly, hands held cautiously in front of her.


"Easy... Shh... easy..." Closing in, she reached and caught the reins, giving a gentle tug. Rowan bucked, but she held tight, tugging a second time a little firmer, "Come on, you brute. Aleida needs you..."


The second yank did the trick and the Freisian dropped back to the ground, taking a few tentative steps forward, before finally giving in to the lead. It was only a small victory, however. Getting Aleida on to the mount would be impossible without assistance. Looking back at the mess of a battle field, she squinted through the many forms and figures, eyes coming to rest of the gangly brunette.


"Marnie!" She cried, "Marnie, I need help!"

@Poe, @Doctor Jax

 

[korigon]

Kepheus Kerberos


The Prince and his two knights fled, pursued by the kinslayer like foxes chased by a hound. Except this hound was disturbingly large and had humans in its rib cage. With luck, the leaders of the entourage would be able to outsmart their hunter, but there was no saying what exactly was ahead. What if there was another one of those things further up the road? His commanders would be dispatched quickly. And if they, by some vile chance, did encounter distractions of the fatal nature, who would assume the position as head of their rapidly shrinking group? Aleida Gregory would most likely be the first candidate, perhaps followed by Northwode. But Gregory was out of action, and Kepheus had decades of experience on his fellow auxiliary. By right, he was in command.


Kepheus considered this with disinterest. Their food cart had been demolished, presenting a much more troubling matter. Regardless, he beheld the auxiliary with a touch of satisfaction, as they formed themselves to march. It was something they were good at; in fact, it was the only thing they appeared to excel in. His interest then turned toward Arabella Dane and Aleida Gregory. The servant was ripping pieces of her dress in order to create a makeshift bandage. What an ingenious idea! Use a flimsy strip of linen for a medical bandage! She wasn't even able to lift the unconscious-looking form of Aleida on to her horse. Time was essential, and they needed to head towards Pratchet with haste. He could not risk a clumsy servant endangering the leaders of the entourage.


His boots made imprints on the wet earth as he made his way toward them, his eyes flickering from Arabella and Aleida, and back. He spoke in his average manner, indifference, and addressed the servant out of the corner of his eye as he studied Aleida's injured body.


"She requires more attention, yet I cannot waste time tending her injuries now. Pratchet shall offer refuge, and there we can examine whatever wounds she has sustained. Oh, and in the future, I strongly recommend not using dress materials as a bandage, servant. A blanket would be a far more suitable object."


Kepheus' words, though potentially scornful, were spoken with an incredible amount of nonchalance. With ease, he lifted Aleida's relatively light physique onto her horse, whatever its fool name was. He could not spend any more time dawdling in the back.


"Miss Dane, you shall remain back here with our injured companion. Please do not allow the horse to run off, and do not let Gregory fall off the horse. Both would be very undesirable. Are you capable of doing that?"


@Poe @Elle Joyner

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

​

Alexander nudged Escovet's flanks to rush towards Ceril upon his call. He rode past the where Aleida lay in a limp heap upon the grassy earth, Arabella rushing to her aid as Ceril lodged a mace within the kinslayer's crown. Escovet's speed matched the beast as they neared, and passed as the horse obeyed Alexander's light squeeze with his heels to her sides. He urged the mare right, just close enough to slice at the creature's shoulder with a downward swoop of his sword as he passed. The thick hide was barely sliced, the putrid skin peeling back to reveal a visceral display of rotted flesh. At this distance he could see the bodies of the deceased within its chest cavity, their limbs limply dangling from the openings like prisoners begging from a jail cell. Their necks were torn and their eyes glassed over in a lifeless fog of their own set within expressions of pain and surprise in suspended animation. Farrah stared back at him with wide, unwavering eyes, her mangled body twisted around the shackles of viscera.


Why now? Why did Prince Ceril suddenly feel the best course of action was to split the entourage when they were all headed in the same direction? Alexander reeled Escovet away from the beast as it swooped a lanky arm back in response to Alexander's strike, the force of which nearly knocked him off his saddle. His helmet flew off his head, and he felt the sting of whiplash as he righted himself and carried the course forward. The kinslayer's focus may have changed just slightly to Alexander, but the direction was still preserved. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as they outran the creature and caught up to Prince Ceril and Edina.


"My prince!" Alexander called out over the growl of the beast and the thunder of their horse's hooves. The adrenaline coursing through him made him completely unaware of the blood flowing from his broken nose. "What is the plan?"

 

[Doctor Jax]

The rest of the fight passed in a blur. Marnie could only truly remember the face of her second oldest brother swinging from the ribcage of that monstrosity. It was only after she watched the thing run after her master and teacher that she snapped from her reverie and realize someone was calling her name. She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the thought from her mind, her stomach roiling. At last, unable to stand it, she threw up on the cobbles and swayed with agony, both in heart and body. With a sob and a wipe of the mouth, she turned to whoever it was that was calling her.


She looked over at the scene before her. The auxiliaries were still in shock, but they were forming up into a marching formation. Kepheus had put Aleida on her horse, but she was limp as a sack of flour, probably knocked unconscious. Arabella was busy taking care of the horse, a habit of hers it seems, and Marnie realized that she had been trying to get a hold of her. Marnie looked down at the wagon at her feet, splintered to pieces and rolling with food, and she realized the depth of their situation.


"Oi! We ain't gonna last long if'n we ain't go' food! Grab some 'n put it where you can in the wagons," Marnie called with a trembling, stuttering voice as she took hold of several small pouches of cornmeal. She stuck them into her knapsack, gathering together her weapons. She still had, at least, her bow, her shiv, her... her dagger... She swallowed hard and let tears dribble off her nose as she shoved it into her sack, along with the pouches of cornmeal and whatever would fit. To her surprise, Ivar walked over and patted her shoulder before also taking a leaking sack and shoving some cheese wedges into it, along with tack bread.


A few more auxiliaries came to pack up the food in whatever was handy and start a formation march, and Marnie wiped at her face roughly as she walked over to Aleida, Arabella, and Kepheus. She nodded to Arabella and said to Kepheus, "Uh... sir, got 'em to take food, whatever they'll carry. Prolly put it in the other wagons."


As she said this, she dumped some of the food into Aleida's saddle bags. Sorry, mum, but y' prolly won't mind me usin' 'ese when ye're starvin' half to death 'n ye find carrots in em.


"I kin take Bells 'n Lady 'Leida," she offered, looking Kepheus in the eyes. "I'm good wiv horses."


As grumpy as the old man was, she couldn't fault him for his jadedness. She'd seen it more times than she'd like in her own hold. The men of Belhund House were soft with their wives, but beyond the doors of their homes, they became as hard as the earth outside. And from what she could see, Kepheus had no wife with whom to be sweet on, so it was more than likely he'd show no pity for the stragglers.


@korigon @Elle Joyner @Poe