Fantasy Rifts [IC][Closed]

[joshuadim]

In Aelestra's possession was a piece of the lifeless husk that formed the creature she had just slain. Taking care to not accidentally cut herself on its jagged edges, she observed the crystal only to find little of value here. No longer animated by the tormented soul that had inhabited it, all that remained with its own physical properties - making it wholly unremarkable save for the novelty of its existence. Outside of Leskau, there was nothing quite like it; Arnas gave a thumbs up to Aelestra when she indicated her well-being, and in turn straightened himself out.

A part of him was rather sore from the blow he had received earlier, and his head still spun a bit from the mental ravaging of the creature's presence. Ser Broz was in a similar predicament as he shook his head slightly to try to wash away the malaise at the front of his skull, only to then take a seat on the edge of the stone fountain in the town square. "I've heard of creatures like... that. In places ravaged by the Rifts. Never thought I'd see one myself, let alone help kill one." the Justicar spoke, looking towards the creature's remnants with a grimace. "At least we put it out of its misery."

It was then, shortly thereafter, that both Edoardo and Terrence had arrived in the immediate aftermath of the conflict. Following their escapade in the stockades, Ser Broz looked towards them and visibly looked relieved that neither of them looked as though they had been in a battle. "Thank the Divines that you haven't run into the same problems we have."

Arnas looked to Terrence and Edoardo as they approached, and he made his way over to them: "Find anything in the stockades?" Arnas asked, "Anything that would... fit the Guardian's criteria?"

Beann Chaos Gallant Worthlessplebian

---

"This whole situation is different, so I'll skip the obvious. Out of anything that has transpired, what has been in contact with you the most? What oddities do you think may have brought this on you?"

"When we..." the Count began to speak, before hesitating for a moment. "...when we... died, I thought I was ready to meet the Father. My head rolled on the ground as the assassin had taken it clean off. Two arrows took my daughter... a cleaner fate than my own. But then there was that damnable racket! Everything had gone dark. The sleep of death had blanketed me, only for me to have that silence be broken by NOISE!"

"What noise...?" Ser Faralt asked, his interest piqued as he leaned in closer to the two of the other Undying. "Was it a song?"

"Yes... if you could call it that. Rhythm, but no damnable harmony!" Count Touvelle said with annoyance.

"I woke up afterwards..." Fione then said, gulping nervously. "After hearing the song... a droning sound... long and deep."

Ser Faralt turned his bony, flesh-deprived face back towards Fraskia and Vera with revelation. The two would know that, from their encounter on arriving in Merish itself, that this was what they had heard too in the ruins of the village. An outworldly noise that had brought the burnt knight back from the dead, and similarly had brought these two back as well.

"And are there others here like you?" Vera piggybacked, her gaze shifting from the lady to the head she held. "Survivors either livin' or of... your sort, I mean."

"Nay. We haven't met nary a soul since our flight from our homeland." Count Touvelle said with a frown. "Here we only found ruin and death, but nobody to follow us here. You're the first people we've come across since our return to... this."

Breadman Oreo Cookie

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Before either Terrence or Edoardo had the chance to explore further into the now exorcized stockades it seemed like a different outburst of trouble was taking place outside. At the Sobekon’s suggestion, Terrence nodded and followed after him, their plundering would have to wait.

It seemed however, that their concern was unneeded. Terrence entered the scene just behind Edoardo with his ax at the ready, only to find that whatever had been causing their companion’s distress had already been felled. The orc lowered his guard slightly as he approached, “Perhaps not the same problems, but we have had our fair share of trouble it would seem, Ser Broz.” Terrence addressed the paladin before turning to address Arnas. “There was a restless spirit, no doubt bound to this place when the rift opened and tore this place to sunders. Fortunately for me, our pious friend and his gods were able to guide the soul to its peace.” He motioned towards Edoardo as he sung his praises. “But we had little luck otherwise, there was only a few moments of quiet before we heard the sounds of battle out here and came to assist. Though, as I had imagined, you proved more than capable of dealing with, ehm…” He looked at the remains of the crystalline being that lay on the ground, unable to discern the exact nature of the creature. “Your foes…”

Terrence took note that Ser Faralt’s group was nowhere to be seen. “The others have yet to return from the Church then I take it? Perhaps it would be wise of us to head in that direction, unless there is somewhere else we are needed?” He asked the others.

 

[Breadman]

"A song that brings the dead to life..." Fraskia began to muse about the possible source. With fingers on her chin, she began to eliminate the possible culprits. "Not any siren I know about, they only effect the living. Droning sounds like what we heard when finding you, ser." Her brow furrowed "Unless something was mutated, we can discount anything coming from this plane of existance. In fact combined with what the outside looks like, we are dealing with something alien. Now the next question is this a targeted spell or some by product of a greater plan? You being killed in cold blood makes me believe the latter to be true, but for what purpose?" She looked to the lords and the knight "Do you feel anything at the back of your minds? Something whispering or chattering?"

 

[Beann]

With all the trouble they had gone through taking down the crystalline entity, she had assumed its fragments held some significance. Be it through magical properties or a unique material that had animated the creature to life in the first place. However, its only redeeming quality was that it was sharp enough to cut. Aelestra exhaled through her nose in mild disappointment but pocketed the fragment anyway. A souvenir — or at least evidence.

Her attention turned towards Edoardo and Terrence as they approached the trio, seemingly unscathed. Hearing the merchant explain what happened in the stockades caused her eyes to drift back down to the shattered pieces of the foe they defeated. With how the crystalline entity screeched for them to end its existence, no doubt that it was a restless spirit as well. She looked back at Terrence, offering a slight wave before signing: ‘You would do well to spend time at a Church given your encounter in the stockades.’ A joke yet her facial expression remained neutral.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

As the Sobekon and his Orcish companion stumbled upon the source of the disturbance, they were greeted by the scene of a battle already concluded. Edoardo approached with khopesh ready, and blood on his cruel, savage mind. Only to find the flinders and chunks of a crystalline foe laid about them, shattered by their combined efforts. He unclenched the blade's handle, loosely carrying at his side.

His head angled to examine their surroundings, idly listening to Terrence's explanation of their investigations. The town's square, once brimming with life and the bustle of townfolk, young and old, now rang hollow, laced with the corruption of the Rift so far removed from normalcy. It chilled his cold blood, this obscura-haunted place. He pushed down the pervasive feeling, focusing back on the conversation. "As Terrence says: the stockades were but the host to a spectre, looped by his memories." Edoardo added, his voice a dry rasp. "There was little of note there, the food, that was there, was rotted and spoiled beyond edibility."

Out of the corner of his eye, Edoardo spotted Aelestra signing to the merchant, although he could not make heads or tails of it. "Since we're gathered, I do agree with Sir Halforth, best we make our way now. I am also interested in the surviving scripturas. Though they aren't mine own, I do wish to preserve them if possible." Edoardo went on.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

Vera slowly shook her head in response to Fraskia's query. "No. Nothin' out of the ordinary buzzin' around my mind." She replied with a tinge of uncertainty. In truth, the knightess hadn't been focused on her mind up until that point, and though it seemed clear considering the circumstances, she could never be too sure in a place like this. An agitated edge worked its way into her tone as she added, "Hopefully it remains that way."

"You. Count." She continued briskly, her pointed gaze on the disembodied head. "Mind tellin' us more about this assassin of yours? Seems like someone really had it out for you by the sounds of it."

 

[joshuadim]

"No, I assume they're still at the Church." Arnas replied to Terrence, turning his gaze towards the general direction that the burnt knight - and his two companions - had sauntered off towards. "...I don't think they're in any trouble. But it wouldn't hurt to check in on them. This is a dangerous place after all." The mercenary then nodded towards what remained of the entity that he, Aelestra, and Ser Broz had fought as indicative of this. "I wouldn't leave things up to chance."

"Smart. And I would like to offer a prayer to my Patron as well." the Justicar then spoke up, as he kept a hand to his side where he had been hit prior. But he then spoke towards Edoardo with a nod: "Thank you for putting a tormented soul to rest. Even just one, among a city of dead memories, makes a change in the world."

Arnas looked towards Ser Broz with neutrality, as he wasn't the religious type. He was, however, happy that their actions did garner them further favour with the likes of Ser Broz. "Well, if nobody has objections... we'll head over to regroup with the others. See what they've founds out."

Beann Chaos Gallant Worthlessplebian

---

"Do you feel anything at the back of your minds? Something whispering or chattering?"

The trio of Undying looked at Fraskia in silence for a moment, before each of them offering a shake of their heads. "No. Nothing of the sort... my mind remains my own." Ser Faralt then said, before turning towards the Count and Fione. "Preposterous!" the Count said with annoyance, "As if I would be a thrall to some entity! Utterly ridiculous! What sort of accusation is this?" These accusatory remarks did bring an annoyed glare out of his daughter, who continued to cradle his head.

"I apologize for my father's outburst... but no. I don't feel any different than I did before... other than being dead." the lady said with a grimace. "It's strange, I feel as though I'm alive still and yet on the contrary, I am everything but... it isn't natural, or right."

"You. Count. Mind tellin' us more about this assassin of yours? Seems like someone really had it out for you by the sounds of it."

"Oh, I imagine it could be a number of enemies." Count Touvelle then stated sarcastically, "I held onto a coveted fief that generated a good amount of income. Taxes and otherwise. It could be the Duke of Tanach... or perhaps the Baron Leswin... I couldn't possibly know. Nor could I ask my killer the polite courtesy of telling me who deemed it fit to execute me in such dishonourable fashion!"

"Father..."

"Oh, you're right my dear... my apologies. I'm still rather worked up about being relieved of a body."

"Dishonourable indeed." Ser Faralt commented, "I would not allow this injustice to continue, were I also not in your shoes. I don't think I can ever return to Lithurnia as a result..."

"You'd get put to the flame by those damnable zealots if you even so much made yourself known!" the Count then said, "We barely escaped ourselves from our pursuers."

Breadman Oreo Cookie

 

[Breadman]

"There is no accusation. Merely the process of elimination." Fraskia sighed. "You assumption that you wouldn't be a pawn in someone's game is why you make the perfect target, count." She gave the head a glare. "Advice that is useless to you now, but maybe you can rumminate in the afterlife after we release you from this curse. "The tone was unbecooth one would choose when talking to nobility. The rune knight sounded like she was scolding a rude child. "But your mind's potential to be fooled isn't why I ask these questions."

His daughter was more agreeable. She actually gave an answer. Vera didn't need to give input, but the possiblity of some unseen puppetmaster being behind this is less likely-for now. Now where would the zealots fit into this?

"So you were assassinated, awoke to an outworldly tune and...the zealots were on your tail. Where exactly were you brought back?"

 

[joshuadim]

"Hrm... it was on the Kingsroad. The main route of travel in Lithurnia." the count then spoke in response to Fraskia, though his tone remained irate as the questions continued to barrage him. "A brazen attack there is simply unheard of. The bandits must have been paid a fortune to take such a risk! And, well, now they're wealthier men off our corpses." He then shifted his gaze a few times between Fraskia, Vera, and Ser Faralt before sighing. "Good for them. I'm certain they'll continue a life of misery and debauchery before meeting their inevitable ends at the hands of the law. As is fated for all ill mannered men."

"Father." Fione said in a stern manner, catching the count's stream of thought to a complete halt.

"Right! Sorry. I got carried away again. Listen, we need safe passage towards Quoidge. Its the only place we in our current condition can be safe in."

"I would be more than happy to oblige you." Ser Faralt chimed in immediately. "It is my duty as a knight to see innocents to safety. Though the rest of my companions are indisposed with another task given to them."

"...just you?" the Count then asked with disappointment. "My apologies, Ser Knight. It's just... one man to defend us seems a little-"

His words were cut short before he could finish the thought, as a pounding resonated in the empty church. This drew everyone's attention towards the front of the building, as Ser Faralt stood up and put a hand to the hilt of his blade. He was silent, sparing a glance towards both warrior women that had accompanied him, before making his way from the Priest's quarters towards the main hall. Another series of pounds from the main doors came, before a muffled voice sounded from the other side.

"Are you in there?" Arnas asked from behind the doors.

The reveal made Faralt ease as he let out a sigh of relief. "Aye. We are here!" Faralt shouted back, "The doors are barricaded by a few pews. We'll move them for you."

After calling Fraskia and Vera to help, he made it so; the pews were removed from their positions and, in turn, allowed for the heavy oak doors of the church to slowly open. Arnas, Aelestra, Edoardo, Terrence, and Ser Broz all entered shortly thereafter, taking in the sights of the hallowed halls of worship, before Arnas spoke up again. "Find anything here?"

"Two more like me. Undying. That is. A Count and his daughter." Ser Faralt reported, pointing towards the back where they had originally met the two. At the doorway to the Priest's quarters stood Fione, cradling her father's head, as the two observed the group reunite at last. Arnas took a peek and sighed, "Well. Good that we found them at least. But nothing else? Nothing that the Guardian would be taking more of an interest in?"

Faralt shook his head. "Nay. Not from what we saw."

Arnas frowned at the idea of going back practically empty handed to the Guardian but relented as he looked back to Fione and her father. "Alright... let's rest for a bit, then head back." the young mercenary then dictated with a shrug. "I'd rather we be at full strength to deal with something trying to keep us from leaving should it come to it."

"Fine by me." Ser Broz spoke as he approached the statue of his patron god and sat on his knees before it. He was content to meditate in prayer, closing his weary eyes as he remained ever so still were it not for the slow breathing escaping his nose. A small camp had formulated out of nothing as people began to relax as best as they could in this sort of environment. Though, Arnas was a little more cautious as he remained vigilant. He did, however, wanted to know the opinions of the others who had encountered these new Undying. Arnas strode over towards where Fraskia was and murmured quietly.

"What do you think of these Undying?" he asked of the rune-knight with a slight bit of concern, "The Count and his daughter, I mean. Can they be trusted?"

Ser Faralt, in the meantime, had helped start a small campfire with the remnants of old books as tinder and a few chair legs as fuel. Though he could not feel warmth like those of the living could, he still remained comforted by the memories of such feelings as he sat next to it. It was then that he spoke to Edoardo and Terrence from where he sat and spoke from under his helm: "Find anything interesting in your outing?" he asked of the two, "I imagine our little expedition here hasn't been quite as eventful as Ser- er... young Arnas' and Aelestras' little encounter, eh?"

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Terrence smirked at Aelestra, signing back to her, ‘Perhaps a donation is in order.’ He didn’t dally much longer, moving forward towards their reunion with the others in the church. His posture remained tense until they had entered the once holy place, only to find that Ser Faralt had not been the only one in the region to be suffering from the curse of undeath.

The orc joined the undead knight by the fire he'd made in their makeshift camp, so that he could fill him in on the details. “We did, however, we have not much to show for it. There was a spirit of sorts still bound to this place, Edoardo was able to put it to rest. Aside from that, most of what was left in the stockades, was desiccated or beyond use.” Terrence looked towards the fire, pulling some jerky from a bag tied to this belt and offering a piece to both Edoardo and Faralt.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

The priest paused in the entryway to the chapel. He sheathed his khopesh, clasping his hands in silent prayer, and closing his hard eyes gently. A brief recital to his pantheon of Gods, before trespassing in the home of another. With a single step inward, Edoardo took in the sight before him. He felt awe stir his cold blood. Eyes dragging themselves from the expertly-sculpted masonry to the frescoes high above the buttresses. He refocused, warm eyes picking out the minute details in the carvings and statues. When he had his fill, his breath caught and fists relaxed as his jaw gaped slightly.

Edoardo strode down the church's nave, having assisted in barricading the double doors, towards the pulpit, apse, and stone altar at the far-end. Head shifting as he went. Taking in both the sights and the information that the knight, Ser Faralt, had imparted. Edoardo pondered their predicament a moment longer then sighed. Turning abruptly, the priest went farther from the group, his eye had caught sight of a rolled parchment, knocked down next to the altar. He went down on one knee, next to the polished, smooth slab of stone. While the stained glass, like a singular, graven eye, glared down at him from above as though upon a sinner or worse.

Clawed digits scraped across the foot of the altar, gently plucking the scroll with his scaled hand. Intricate patterns lined the sides of the parchment, the paper felt fresh in his hand, unwrinkled by the abuse of usage or the efforts of time.

He stepped back, mindful not to disturb this holy place anymore. He seated himself on the bare flagstone, tail skidding the dust then coiling around his feet, Edoardo unrolled the scroll to read. It had been a homily, likely prepared for that evening's mass, for the local priest to explain a scripture. It was quite detailed, from the quick skim that Edoardo gave it then he went to reading. But not before, asking a question. "Have you any idea as to the fate of the churchmen? Save for these two souls." Edoardo asked, his voice broad and bass.

 

[Breadman]

The Count and his daughter, I mean. Can they be trusted?

"The head and girl?" Fraskia looked to the duo again briefly "His bark is about as dangerous as his bite and she's barely holding up." She gave a cold answer "Tickle his ego a bit before you ask him anything. The count still holds on to his status even beyond the grave." Her tone didn't change, making it hard for anyone to figure out if she was serious or said it in jest.

Have you any idea as to the fate of the churchmen? Save for these two souls.

"Afraid not." Fraskia shook her head to Edoardo's question. "We didn't find signs of their bodies when we came in. Using runes didn't lead us to any other undead besides these two." She motioned to the count and his daughter with a flick of her head. "I wouldn't discount them being taken somewhere or their bodies dragged to gods knows where." The rune knight placed a hand on her chin as she contemplated "They say there's nothing behind it they can feel, but I'm not convinced." She looked to the large priest. "How about you? What was the spirit you found?"

 

[joshuadim]

“We did, however, we have not much to show for it. There was a spirit of sorts still bound to this place, Edoardo was able to put it to rest. Aside from that, most of what was left in the stockades, was desiccated or beyond use.”

"Well, not much to show means not much trouble to deal with in the end." Ser Faralt offered as consolation to Terrence, before gently refusing the offer of jerky. "My apologies, but I don't think I'll have an appetite ever again given my... state. I'm not even sure if those parts of me work any longer. I wonder if that will drive me mad quicker than the dread of undeath - not being able to taste a good pork belly, or a fine vintage wine again." the burnt night then mused, "...not being able to taste even the air again. A cruel jest for someone given the chance of whatever this 'life' is."

"The head and girl? His bark is about as dangerous as his bite and she's barely holding up. Tickle his ego a bit before you ask him anything. The count still holds on to his status even beyond the grave."

"Hrm." Arnas grunted, his gaze looping back to the Undying duo who remained in their corner of the cathedral before grimacing. "Then again, the Guardian did ask us to keep an eye out for anything that would seem new given the environment. This doesn't strike me as that." the young mercenary then commented quietly. He then gave Fraskia a nod and prepared to walk over to Aelestra. But before so, Edoardo let out a general inquiry:

"Have you any idea as to the fate of the churchmen? Save for these two souls."

"The town hall seemed to be filled with the corpses of the city magistrate and his aides, but we didn't find any other bodies there." Arnas said aloud, offering a bit of context to the dead that remained.

Ser Faralt also chimed in on the conversation: "Nay, we found not a trace of any in these hallowed halls, like Lady Fraskia spoke." the burnt knight responded, before returning to the original conversation at hand. He eyed Vera and waved for her attention: "What would you do if you had lost your ability to eat or drink?" he asked of her as part of a thought exercise.

Arnas in the meantime approached Aelestra and offered a half-hearted smile. "Not quite what I had in mind when I thought to myself seeing the world." Arnas spoke in jest, "I thought it would be traveling to places more lively, not ruins teeming with gods know what."

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Chaos Gallant]

The orc frowned as Ser Faralt shared the details of his current state. He shook his head in agreement, “Perhaps it is better not to linger on such thoughts then. Though you may not be able to indulge in the wants of the flesh, you can still feel sadness and anger. I see no reason why you should not feel peace and happiness with time. Besides, you would make for a great monk now, what with no wanton desires to cloud your mind, you can reach true enlightenment. Or so I have heard, perhaps Aelestra knows something about it.” He let out a small laugh, hoping to raise their spirits if not but just a little.

Terrence turned his inquiry to the monk in question, “Is that sort of teaching your order does? I suppose I had not given much thought to ask again after Ember, terribly rude of me.” He asked Aelestra, curious as to what sort of monastery she hailed from.

 

[Beann]

With a blank stare, Aelestra listened quietly as the group went around, sharing their own unusual experiences in this harrowing town. She didn’t care much for Ser Faralt’s probing question toward Vera, to her, there were other ways to diminish the meaning of life. Terrence’s comment could potentially provide the undead knight some sort of consolation though. She shrugged as the merchant directed a question at her, signing: ‘We teach ways to better ourselves though the means aren’t always the same for everyone.’

When Arnas approached her, she blinked slowly at his comment for a moment before retrieving her writing tools. ‘This town was once lively.’ She allowed him to read, noting that even the most lively places hide the most sinister intentions.

joshuadim Chaos Gallant

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Edoardo had been reading when Fraskia first spoke up. Reluctantly he raised his head, peeling eyes away from the homily to look at the rest as though the warm ovals were scrutinizing the words rather than the person speaking them. He trusted the rune knight's appraisement of the Count and his daughter, rather remarkable that man's personality remained intact and had not shattered like an thin icicle upon hard stone because of his decapitation and subsequent resurrection. Or were the events reversed? Edoardo pondered, mind brimmed with undue thoughts full of gaunt cadavers, wickedly vile necromancies, and the oddity of the occurrences. "It is as Terrence said. Rather, a fragment of the Warden's soul had been moored to the very granite of the stockades. From its mad ramblings, we gathered that the Warden had attempted to rally his men together and attempt to imprison the convicts once again, likely during the Rift-outbreak itself." Edoardo said, voice even leveled.

The priest shook his head in acknowledgement at Arnas' words, clawed fingers pressing softly into the parchment, the pointed tips protruding gently beneath the scroll's filmy surface. Despite his reservedness, Terrence's line of reasoning clearly caught Edoardo by intrigued surprise. "Perhaps it is not my place to speak, but a monk's desire for enlightenment strives from the presence of his desires, not their absence. Proving one's mettle does not rust, where metal itself would." Edoardo began, inclining his head. "As for you, Ser Faralt." The Sobekon turned to him, the rows of wicked teeth glinting in the dim light of the abandoned church. "Likewise, I cannot fathom what you must be enduring in your soul, but it is not at all dissimilar to an affliction of age in Sobekoni, an elder's skin becomes hardened and stiff, especially around the joints before spreading to the hands and feet. Due to swelling and pressure, a lot of elders lose sensation shortly after, other senses can be affected as well. Find something, anything to pursue, if you cannot feel your accomplishment, be content with the knowledge that you've done a good. Ultimately, however, it is up to you. I - or we - can only be here to support you." Edoardo concluded, whether his words provided any measure of comfort to the undead knight he could not say, it is a sorry fate to befall and unlike his Gods, Edoardo does not have all the answers.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

Vera shifted in place, and turned her head to better regard Ser Faralt with curious caution. "Oh? Like if I were turned undyin', you mean?" she responded, a hint of wry humor lacing her tone. "Assumin' a wizard or some such couldn't cure me, I reckon I'd have to find some way to redie or unlive, if that's even possible." She paused, her expression turning thoughtful as she gave the question deeper thought. "Bein' barred from a hearty meal or a strong drink? Forgive the figure of speech, but that's a fate worse than death, if you ask me. Then again, there's more to life — or unlife, I guess — than the pleasures of tavern ale and stew. I'd probably just savor what abilities I do retain, and figure out a way to make the most of 'em. Gods know there's a market for the unusual out there."

 

[joshuadim]

"Tsk." Ser Faralt betrayed the first instance of annoyance he felt to the group he had travelled with thus far as Edoardo spoke. He took offense to the notion that he was comparable to an one of the elderly, as he felt that he retained both vigour and stamina that many in their twilight years could only dream of having. "You make it sound like I'm almost diseased, good sir. I can assure you I am *not* sick. Or *ill*. In fact, I feel just fine." the burnt knight spoke, "I ask not for your pity as though I were a leper, or a sickly child. I am still a man, albeit with difference in state. I am still... I exist." He tried to affirm such a notion to himself, but also to get the point across to the others nearby.

That small rant having exhausted his feelings for the time being, Ser Faralt let out a defeated sigh before turning to Vera as she gave her answer. "A fair answer." Faralt said, nodding under his helmet. "I suppose undeath allows for one to not only keep doing what they love forever, but also to see the world. I've always wanted to see what is beyond the far east... beyond the Eastern Plains; surely it can't all be grassland?" the burnt knight then joked. "What a terrible disappointment that would be."

‘This town was once lively.’

Arnas gave a wary smile as he looked out the main doors of the chapel, seeing the desolation outside to contrast Aelestra's words. "And now it's a mass grave." he said quietly. "Except for us. I suppose we make it lively with our mere presence now." He looked towards the ruins of the town visible from the slightly ajar doors of the church's entrance and sighed. "...Ember is the same now. People probably think it's cursed now."

A sudden flight of crows in the distance caught Arnas' attention as his eyes darting to the skies above. The caws of a murder pierced the air, making Arnas stand as the moonlight reflected across his eyes. "Hey." he said at first quietly, before turning to everyone else. "Hey! Something's coming." he said, grabbing his sword and sheathing it at his side as he approached the doors. Peeking out further, he could see the approach of torchlight illuminate the buildings nearby. Ser Broz left his meditation just as quickly and approached by Arnas' side to look as well, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Who would come here?" the Justicar asked.

"It's the damn zealots!" the Count then shouted from the back of the Church in panic. "They've come for us!"

Arnas spun his gaze back, ready to chastise him and his daughter for failing to lose the trail of their religious pursuers. But it was when he saw the visible terror in Fione's eyes that he relented and shook his head. She didn't deserve this. Neither did her father, no matter how annoying he was ultimately. "Damn it..." the young mercenary muttered before pointing to the two of them, "Hide where you were before. NOW."

"...if it comes to blows, lad, I cannot raise my weapon against them." Ser Broz then said with a frown. "No matter how much I loathe their actions, they are still of a holy order."

Ser Faralt had gathered his equipment by now and also joined the two by the door, looking at the Justicar with dead eyes. "The count and his daughter are innocent in all this!" Ser Faralt hissed, "Where can there be justice in them burning as you watch?"

Arnas in the meantime was pinching the bridge of his own nose as he tried to figure out the best course of action through all this, visibly stressed at the sudden change in their overall situation. What could be done, in all this?

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Breadman]

Fraskia sighed. The zealots were coming and there was little doubt that they would want the undead members of this group dead. Diplomacy was off the table as far as she was concerned, so they'd best make ready for battle. The rune knight noticed Arnas' worry on his face.

"Prepare yourself for a fight." She glanced to Broz "If you will not raise your hand against the 'holy', then you can lead the count and his daughter to safety and hide them. He's easy, just put a bucket over him." Fraskia then looked to the burned knight. Even with the helm, he was going to raise questions. "Maybe its best you try to hide as well. These men will likely try to assault us, but will be surprised by you when it happens."

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Terrence contemplates the words of his clerical companions, “I suppose that does make more sense, but it sounds as if you would still make for a fine monk, at least by the standards of Aelestra’s order.” he nodded in approval of his own conclusion as Vera tossed in her two cents for Ser Faralt. “A good point, a restless mind and body without motivation or pursuit becomes the vessel for stagnation.” Terrence smiled when the knight mentioned traveling to the thunder plains. “You know I had been planning to venture into the homelands of the orcs in the near future. Perhaps once this is all over,” He waved his hands around, gesturing to nothing in particular, “We could travel together once more.”

Terrence turned to face the commotion Arnas had brought on, his body tensing once more, uneasy with how that had come to be his first reaction as of late. He listened as Arnas and the others pieced together the situation, and what could barely be called a plan. “Perhaps diplomacy isn't out of the question just yet, we could convince them that their quarry has already fled and that they should continue on? But I agree, Ser Faralt will need to be hidden as well for that to work.” He addressed Fraskia and their undead companion, before explaining the rest of his ideas to the party. “I think it best not to let on that we were sent by the Guardian, instead we’re simply here to set the ‘poor souls’ trapped in this unholy place, to rest. It is not entirely false after all, and I would rather not stain these cursed lands with any more blood than necessary. If the worst comes to pass, despite our efforts, we’ve still handled worse than some crazed holy men.” He hoped that his words rang true with them, it would be nice to avoid ruining anymore of his clothing in combat. ‘I should invest in some armor.’ The thought crossed his mind briefly.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Edoardo remained quiet, his orange gaze fixed on Ser Faralt. Despite the afflicted knight's harsh words and unearned indignation, his answer alone satisfied Edoardo's goal. His words may have not steered Faralt towards the intended outcome, but they have ignited the fire within, galvanizing him. The lilt in his voice betrayed the lingering doubts, insidious and burrowing like mites in the bark of a tree, but the warrior Priest has faith, not simply in his Gods above, in Faralt as well. As Terrence began, Edoardo moved his hands, turning his gaze down to the leathery parchment. He nodded his head, before speaking again. "Perhaps, consider a visit to the Marshlands? It would be my honour to host your expedition to the fatherlands." Edoardo said, the faintest hints of pride colouring his broad and brass voice.

He listened well to Arnas' words, grief as thick as trampled snow. The grim wind howled outside, scraping by the church's flagstone walls, empty and burdened by the ethereal energies of the rift. There was a moment's silence. Then a murderous caw shattered the groaning wind's tranquility. Edoardo inclined his head sharply. Arnas soon followed, first to voice the confusion amidst their ranks. Edoardo started. He rolled the homily, pocketing the ecclesiastical script in a leather-bound bag to his side and tugging his vestment robes straight. The muscles in his clawed hands felt taut, his eyes narrowed to the church's double doors. The air growing stale, and plagued by the smell of approaching torches. "Would it be prudent for I to remain in plain sight?" Edoardo questioned, his voice deathly low. "I doubt they've seen a Sobekon before, and worked up in a rage as they are, they might not care for explanations or delays to their holy mission." Edoardo added.

 

[joshuadim]

"Maybe its best you try to hide as well. These men will likely try to assault us, but will be surprised by you when it happens."

"But I agree, Ser Faralt will need to be hidden as well for that to work.”

Ser Faralt looked between both Fraskia and Terrence, visibly confused despite his lack of a face, before letting out a frustrated sigh. "I should stay nearby still, should things go awry. You'll need my blade if it comes to it." the burnt knight spoke, pointing to one of the grander pillars nearby. "I will hide behind it in the shadows." Ser Broz had, in the meantime, moved towards the rear of the church and shepherded both the count and his daughter into the quarters they had originally been found. A heavy thud could be heard from behind the heavy oaken door leading there, giving indication that the passage had been blocked from the Justicar's doing. While they were hidden from view entirely, this also meant that they were locked into a corner. A bunker that could also turn into a permanent grave.

Arnas took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts, while Terrence and Edoardo offered their own thoughts on the matter. "No, you should stay. They're after Undying, not Sobekans." the mercenary said bluntly. He then gave a nod to Terrence as he suggested to not bring up the Guardian, or anything else related to the matter. "Zealotry doesn't make for sound minds for talking, but I suppose we should try regardless..." Arnas then said, before looking back through the crack in the doors to the outside. The torchlight grew brighter, and figures could be seen on the approach. Three of them bore heavy plate, with imposingly large weapons as their arms of choice to accompany them on their backs, while six others seemed to be in chainmail and padded armours.

These lesser warriors seemed to be not as heavily armed, but still appeared imposing with the flames they carried in their hands. There was also the cloths that they bore, as streaks of red permeated from their wear as a symbolic gesture of their devotion to the cleansing flame. Amidst them was an armoured woman at their front, their leader, as she made a quick pace towards the chapel itself. Though she was shorter than the armoured paladins that accompanied her, she retained an imposing aura as her white hair fluttered behind her. Arnas gritted his teeth, feeling blood rush through his body before letting out a deep breath. "Here we go."

Arnas, and some others, pushed on the doors to open them wider as Ser Faralt took his position behind one of the pillars. Stepping to meet halfway, the woman planted her sword's tip into the ground below and rested her hands atop its pommel as she looked at the group with an intense gaze. Those that followed her followed suit in absolute silence, in a combat ready formation as they planted their own weapons - waiting for the order to lunge in and dip their blades into the bodies of the enemy.

Arnas took a few steps down from the top of the steps to get closer to the woman before speaking up: "Can we help you?"

The woman remained silent as her eyes trailed over each member of the group. Studying and making notes in her mind of the situation at hand. Determining the discrepancies at play before her vigilance. The edges of her lips curled upwards slightly before she spoke up: "I am Inquisitor Agathe Dumont. I am in pursuit those hiding from holy justice, as their souls remain affixed to the mortal realm after having been denied the grace of the Father." she spoke coolly, maintaining a mountainous composure of authority. "No matter where they may be, I follow in their wake to send them to the oblivion from whence they came."

For her, it was entirely evident what she meant and did not elaborate. "I am given charge by Ozdan himself to carry this holy duty through. And I am charged with authority to dispense fury upon those who impede upon this."

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Edoardo nodded to Arnas as he went to peer through the break in the doors to the outside. The Sobekon inclined his head slightly, and suddenly popped his jaw. He smelt them. The air polluted by the scorching torches spewing palls to the Rift-riven sky, dread clenched his stomach and a chill, colder than his blood, shot down his spine. Edoardo stared over Arnas shoulder, looking past the double doors as though he could see what laid beyond them. He counted five or six torches amongst them. Edoardo followed Arnas towards the doors. Pushing on them, their hinges creaked as they opened wider and wider.

He stood under the archway, face thrown in shadow with only his short snout piercing the veil of darkness. His eyes gleamed in the darkness like twin, molten stars on a dark night. Just as they stood at the ready to lunge, so too did the Sobekon. Only his was more naturalistic as if his very body emanated a constant threat of sudden motion that hung over them like a sword above their necks. As if the hard shadows that hung heavy about his scaled form were calm waters hiding snaggle-toothed savagery beneath the swampy green.

The Priest stepped into the light. Behind on Arnas' right as the man asked the paladin of her intentions. Edoardo stood still, silent. Not looking directly at the woman in grey plate and blood red cloth, but vaguely aware of how she surveyed them with her piercing glare. Taking stock of them. In another context, far away in the marshlands, that observance would've resulted in tense bodies then a fight — he wondered if these same notions preceded and foreshadowed a fight as well. He listened as she spoke, slightly flexing his wicked claws into his palm.

Edoardo bowed his head respectfully. "Well spoken, Inquisitor. Our arrival into the fastness of this holy place has been very recent; measured in a few minutes in fact. How can we further your goal of, as you say, ridding the world of those who affix themselves to the mortal realm in unholy elision?" Edoardo responded, voice remaining level in the face of Dumont's monstrous authority. He could almost hear the soft, rasping voice of his tutor, Scevola, speaking words of serenity to young Edoardo's inner ear in the dimly light, stilt-library.

joshuadim

 

[joshuadim]

A predatory smile crept further across Agathe's face when Edoardo made his inquiry. Like a predator, stalking through the dark brush, planning to pounce at the opportune moment. There was nothing warm about her gaze, save for the desire for violence that crept ever closer to the surface. Those behind her kept their steadfast composure, though it was noticeable that they were gripping the hilts of their weapons with great force - itching for the opportunity to let loose. "As a matter of you, you CAN aid us in this matter." she then said with a cheery facade, "We have been on the hunt for two particular individuals - both of whom had been denied the grace of the Father and escape the flames that would purge the corruption that festers in what would be their 'bodies'..."

Agathe strode with her blade dragging on the stone beneath her, circling around Arnas and then the others, as she continued to speak. "We followed their trail here, of course. It's always easy to follow in the steps of the desperate. But there is a third malefactor in all this, one that has been plaguing my mind through all this." She stopped again where she had been before and furrowed her brow, her previous demeanour washed away to reveal a much colder truth. "A knight, risen from the dead, cursed with the same evil upon its very being."

Arnas clenched his teeth as he kept his gaze levelled onto the inquisitor, opting to not speak. Though a slight gulp betrayed his true feelings on the matter. These were zealots who were heavily armed, and the sparks to erupt into open conflict were growing larger by the moment.

"No? Let me help, then. A knight, burnt like char on skin and steel alike. Does that description ring a bell for anyone?"

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Beann]

Aelestra’s gaze remained locked on the inquisitor as the intimidating woman circled their group, the screeching of her blade against the stone was an unpleasant sound, one that earned a brief frown from the mute. What benefit did these zealots gain from hunting the innocent? It was not their fault they were cursed and forced to wander without the feeling of hunger or the need to sleep. Then the inquisitor provided a clear description of Ser Faralt, confirming that they have been following his trail for some time now. ‘Our sights have not been set on hunting individuals as our main focus is investigating the unstable magic that has devastated this town,' she signed, figuring if the inquisitor didn’t understand, Terrence would translate for her. ‘You are better off asking a group of highwaymen with the same mindset.’