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Last Stand of the Silver Shroud; Contains Mature Content, Warnings Within
Topic Started: Aug 16 2016, 09:09 AM (1,530 Views)
Belial
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Archduke
[ *  *  * ]
Warning! Before we commence with this adventure, let's cover a few important points.

◘ This is going to be extremely dark. Things are dead. Things that didn't die pleasantly. And the people that made them that way are going to try to do the same to you.

◘ Your characters and shinies can get hurt! BADLY, unless you tell me otherwise. Investing in a message of some kind (PM, IM, cbox) to let me know how much leeway I have would be both advised and appreciated.

◘ Trigger warnings: Violence, undeath, torture, body horror, dismemberment, bad things befalling children...tell me if I need to update this and I will.


◘ You get one shinyTWO SHINIES. Choose wisely. Also, dragons won't actually fit IN the village, so you may want to aim smaller.*

◘ Be prepared for your characters' various superpowers to be thrown back in their faces by enemies that really aren't impressed. They've been at this for twenty six thousand years, now, and they've...had some time to work up some pretty good countermeasures. Check with me before you assume anything drastic succeeds.

◘ One to two posts between mine, a few smaller ones if you're trying to work out a multi-character interaction. And we'll see if we can't get everyone home sunny side-up! With maybe a few OOC bonuses for players who impress me. :3

◘ And, uh, I'll try to make this fun for you at least, though exactly nobody's active character is going to be Heron's biggest fan. XD

*One shinyTWO SHINIES per character you bring. Multiple characters are, as always, welcome to attend.

**As of 24/5/2018 every character active can call in one more shiny as reinforcements!


~~~~~~~


Haven Village was not the only village in the immediate area, the three members of the Silver Shroud discovered when they did some rudimentary poking around. Haven was where newcomers to Teragaia inevitably ended up, Haven was the main hub village off of the Weyr, Haven was the largest, most advanced, most populous, but it was not the only village.

Miralet cursed loudly into the fading light of dusk, looking down the hill at a village a half-day's ride by horse (less by dragon, thanks to Iyenath) northwest through the forest away from Haven. The small woman limped on her peg leg and cane to the edge of the hillside, but she didn't need to get any closer to hear.

"Shivet!" the diminutive priestess spat. As if in response, something howled long and low and agonized from the village nestled in the cup of the valley. "Of course they would be here too. How naive were we to think we'd escaped?"

"We didn't ever think we'd gotten away," Jacien murmured, leaning heavily on the Gatekey -- he was told it was a staff, but he was sure it was just the world's stupidest weapon, the giant key -- for support. "But this isn't our world. We didn't know to look here."

"Fine bit of justice that is for those poor sods." Alianne jerked her head down at the village, palming the pommel of her sheathed bastard sword. She was a fine specimen of a woman, Alianne, deep sapphire eyes set in a face that seemed sculpted by a master of the finest marble and in the image of the finest woman the artist could think to craft, dramatic cheekbones and all. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sensible ponytail, and she wore black armor trimmed with silver, including a silver "scarf" that hung around her breastplate.

Miralet was much plainer, her green eyes snapping with inner fire and a whole lot of anger. "We. Let. Them. Die."

"No let about it, Miri," Jacien soothed, though he felt it too, the gut-twisting sense of guilt and failure. They'd been on Teragaia for months. It had probably taken that long for those villagers to die. And now? Now they weren't even properly dead.

Not even that could be sacred.

Miralet adjusted her heavy black robes and the trademark silver scarf, the same that Jacien wore, the same anyone in their holy order wore.

"I...I can't..."

"Miri, Miri, stop." Jacien pushed his weight off of the weapon he leaned upon and reached for his priest-sister's shoulder. "Ali and I couldn't take this lot with or without you anyway. This is an infection far beyond the ability of a three-man team. Even a three-man team comprised of two very capable women."

"He's right," Alianne sighed, looking up at the sky. "It's going to rain."

With as much bone damage as it took to even join the Silver Shroud, their bodies became very accurate weather forecasting devices. Thunder cracked and rumbled overhead, counterpoint to some distant and unseen lightning strike, and the rain began coming down in soft, silvery sheets.

Iyenath helpfully extended a wing to cover Miralet, whose prosthetic leg risked getting stuck in the mud.

I can rally the Weyr, if needs must, the Silver Mottle murmured, her mindvoice uncharacteristically quiet for a dragon. Most dragons tended to boom, Jacien had discovered with the rare few that spoke with him, whereas Iyenath's voice, perhaps better suited to a mausoleum, crept over his consciousness like fabric trailing over stone.

"I don't think we want to risk the dragons, especially because most of them won't even fit," Jacien replied. "Though a few to guard the perimeter might not go amiss. And I suppose you may want to rally a few riders. Perhaps the Harper Hall for a drum message? We're going to need help here."

Perhaps. I have notified the Harpers. The drums should sound soon.

"Thank you, Iyenath. I hate to ask, love, but you're going to have to find your own way to the Weyr tonight. Have some of the kids take off the straps and scrub you down. I'll either get back in the morning or...I won't."

Understood. Be well, Jacien. May the dawn bring you victory. With that, Iyenath sprang into the air and winged away back to the Weyr, off to go plant the mystery of why a dragon was returning without her rider.

Shortly after Iyenath's departure, the drums boomed through the rain.

~Village of Blackthorn under siege! The dead walk! Find the Shroud!~

You never can count on Harper Tomlin for accuracy, grumbled a Warrior Hellhound, stepping out of the underbrush and into the rain proper, steam rising from his scarred muzzle and eyes glowing embers in the falling dark.

Evening fell, and the howls below only got louder.

"I'm actually glad you're here, Rajani." Jacien swept a few stray strands of hair back from his face, the strands too short to be held in the customary braid he usually wore.

You think I'd miss a fight like this? No. I want to take the measure of this Withered Mask you keep talking about.

Alianne barked a humorless, bitter laugh. "Be careful what you wish for, 'hound, or you might just find it."

Posted Image

There was only one way to approach the village of Blackthorn, named for the blackberry brambles that grew plentiful in the once-idyllic little valley below, and it was at the top of the hill that the three somber members of the Silver Shroud waited for backup to arrive.

Evening wore into night and the rain refused to relent. The rain itself was almost deafening, but not deafening enough to drown out the inhuman howls of the dead and the damned.

Alianne, Jacien, and Miralet stood across the road, a three-person barricade to stop arrivals from going any further without a full briefing.

Those with dragons might have gotten a few more coherent details out of Iyenath -- she was keen to aim people in the correct direction! -- but even she declined to explain anything in detail, instead directing anyone who asked to find her rider on the hill overlooking the small farming village.


~~~~~~~

Hi hello and welcome to Heron's first adventure back off the sick bench! Also please stop when you get to the Silver Shroud. If you pass Jacien, you've gone too far and may end up getting eaten.

Feel like a small-scale zombie apocalypse? Yeah, me too.

Wasn't kidding about those warnings up top, yo.

Hope y'all have some fun. :D

Oh, and have some appropriate theme music to go with this adventure!
Edited by Belial, May 24 2018, 09:46 PM.
"Life is not about what you deserve. Life is about free will, life is about what you choose. Afterlife is about what you deserve, and all the Heavens forfend you deserve me." --Belial

"Redemption is a work in progress. I've...got a lot of work left to do." --Shrayla

"Fair winds and good fortune to you, friend." --Khareesh

"I think you have me mistaken for someone penitent, and I don't appreciate it." --Melonwei

"If someone rains on your parade, start dancing in the rain." --Linah

"The rules of the Lord of Poetic Justice are very simple. You do unto others as you would have me do unto you, aye?" -- Aletha Hoarfrost

"War's the candy, I'm just the wrapper, but that doesn't make me ready to die any time soon." --Arieh Harel
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Belial
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Libris Mortis

Skeleton

A basic humanoid skeleton with most of its bones intact, this ramshackle thing is the reanimated shell of an old corpse, so old no flesh remains on its bones. Skeletons have all senses but taste intact, but hold little to no real sapience to speak of. Skeletons are cheap and easy shock troops readily mastered by even novice necromancers, and quickly procured from any cemetery.

- Armed, sword/shield or bow/arrows, damaged armor
- Immune to arrows, resistant to slashing damage, only blunt and elemental damage is taken in full.
- Generic troops, not terribly sturdy as far as undead go.

Zombie

A basic humanoid cadaver, the zombie has much of its flesh intact, or at least present. Much of the flesh is decaying and damaged, but it is still there, granting the zombie a unique and truly terrible rotting stench. Zombies have all five senses intact, though no real intelligence or sapience to speak of. They are cheap and easy shock troops easily mastered by even novice necromancers, and quickly procured from the first village victims brought down by the first wave of skeletons. They're a staple of any invasion, the bulk of the army, the footsoldiers, the fodder.

- Unarmed, clothed but unarmored
- Resistant to all but elemental damage
- Generic troops, as fast and sturdy as any human who can't feel pain

Ghost

The spiritual and disembodied remains of the average humanoid, the ghosts of Blackthorn occur for several reasons. Some were native, enslaved and subjugated by the invading Withered Mask, the others, the fractured remnants of the poor sods who became the skeletons and zombies, positioned as watch-dogs at the village gates, advance warning for the occupying force should their position be breached. Ghosts generally appear to be translucent images of the people they were in life, frozen in time at their time of death (a beheaded mortal will leave a headless ghost, bloodstains remain, clothing never changes). Ghosts are usually sapient and independent, but under Withered Mask control they've become restless, rabidly violent, and seek to cure their own torment by lashing out at the living, as if this will make their masters' grip on them less agonizing.

- Can be armed or unarmed, varies by individual
- Resistant to all but holy and magic damage
- Slightly unorthodox troops, but excellent sentries

Wraith Spider

Giant spiders are generally enough to unnerve your average arachnophobe. Necromancers take this a step further, however, raising slain giant spiders from the dead as servants. The Withered Mask doesn't rely on wraith spiders for much, but they make decent enough tunnel sentries. Flimsy, but...they have a certain creep factor that even human dead just don't.

- Unlike most troops, these are not immune to holy damage or Turning
- Highly flammable
- Has lost webbing ability, venom replaced with diseased bite, retains excellent stealth, however

Ash Wraith

Cremation is an easy go-to for people who wish to not have necromancer problems in their cemeteries, burning the bodies of the dead down to otherwise unusable grit to avoid skeletons and zombies later. The Withered Mask finds this practice adorable, and quite useful in the creation of the Ash Wraith, a cloud-like creature composed of the cremains of the deceased, cursed to rise and serve a powerful necromancer's command. Given their insubstantiality and their ability to dissipate and re-form freely, Ash Wraiths are extremely difficult to pin down and even harder to hurt.

- Immune to holy damage, positive energy, and sanctified things that usually harm the undead, immune to Turning
- Immune to all physical damage of all types
- Can be slowed with water, is resistant to but not immune to magic

Zombie Hunter

Not every zombie is a cheap shock trooper. Once the Withered Mask has gotten a foothold, they can produce a stronger, smarter, more quality zombie, more than just a lumbering soldier of rotting flesh. The zombie hunter is a fresher kill, likely obtained in an attack by the weaker zombies and retrieved for processing in short order. It retains its human appearance, mostly, but its wounds have been tended. Broken bones have been reinforced, joints have been supported, torn flesh has been sewn shut, and every part of this zombie drips with both protective and offensive magic. It has also undergone reconstructive surgery to make it more dangerous, in that long, sharp claws have been added to every finger and the teeth have been replaced with something sharper. Above all else, however, one should note that the zombie hunter is FAST.

- Has only "natural" weapons that have been surgically added to each finger, this is normally quite sufficient to render swords and shields irrelevant
- Is hasted, moves at three times the maximum speed of a healthy and athletic human
- Was built to take heavy damage without dropping, though is not invulnerable, particularly to strong acids; IS, however, fire-proof

Zombie Goliath

Not every zombie is made from a single cadaver. Likewise, not every retrieved cadaver is in good enough condition to raise on its own. A goliath is created by attaching and reinforcing parts from multiple bodies, and adding in a whole lot of natural armor in the process. No two goliaths look the same, nor do they typically have the same number or proportion of limbs. The Withered Mask wastes nothing, so they're scrupulous about using every possible scrap in their supply of body parts to its fullest. Waste not, want not, and sometimes spare parts are even deadlier than purpose-built creations.

- Huge lump of dead flesh with no particular design plan in mind, is reinforced to be nearly immune to physical damage and strong enough to bench press an apartment complex
- Unlike the zombie hunter, the goliath is generally proportionally as slow as it is strong, which is to say everyone in the aforementioned apartment complex has plenty of time to get clear before their collective home is moved
- Requires heavy use of magic, fire, and acid to take down, as it is built with physical durability in mind and can withstand literally anything else thrown at it

Slag Heap

Waste. Not. Want. Not. Even the rotten, decomposing goo and sloughed-off skin and congealing blood clots have a purpose! The leftovers from the scrap used to build the goliaths seem poorly suited to fueling an army, but with a little extra enchantment, the decaying medical waste can live again! Roughly the texture of a gelatinous cube (without the geometric aesthetic or underlying structure), a slag heap is one of the ugliest innovations of the Withered Mask, capable of killing with little more than its sheer stench. It isn't fast, it isn't strong, it isn't smart, but a slag heap can choke the living to death simply by existing too closely, and if that fails, it causes everything it touches to begin decaying also.

- Formless pile of disgusting slop that spits even more disgusting slop at nearby target, any contact with any of the slop will cause flesh to undergo necrosis at an extremely rapid rate; Bone also subject to rot (slower than flesh), wood subject to decay, water will be immediately fouled -- only totally inorganic composites are immune to a slag heap's toxic touch
- May kill things that breathe simply because it stinks lethally
- Has nasty tendency to destroy weapons that make contact, Miralet suggests killing it with fire -- LOTS of fire

Childer Revenant

The most tragic custom creation of the Withered Mask, usually reserved for the children born to members of the Silver Shroud...except here, apparently. The child, older than four but younger than ten for optimal size, is tortured to death over a course of weeks, sometimes months, as the restrained parents are forced to watch. When the child's body finally gives up to where healing magic and force-feeding no longer sustain life, the child's soul is swiftly and agonizingly bound to its small corpse, and the whole construct is steeped in strengthening magic wards -- wards fueled by the child-spirit's own pain, so it behooves the Mask to make the binding pretty damn painful. As with the specialized zombies, the children's bodies are subjected to transformative surgery to weaponize them. Much of this surgery is done before the children die, to maximize the torture inflicted on both child and parents, and also so that the flesh can be healed around the alterations, thereby making them sit naturally. What remains at the end, what the parents are then freed to face, is no longer a child in anything but size. It's a weapon. An extremely powerful weapon.

- Childer Revenant has a banshee's howl that can rip the souls out of the living within a certain range if ears are not covered VERY quickly
- Despite its size, the Childer Revenant is amazingly powerful, capable of picking up and throwing much larger, heavier opponents before leaping at them to make the kill with its devastatingly efficient new claws, or, if necessary, the Childer will find another avenue to inflict pain and injury; it is an incredibly intelligent and adaptable thing, capable of processing tactical strategy and battlefield logic
- Due to haste and durability, physical damage is both easily evaded and not terribly effective; Childer has been warded against all holy, positive, sanctified, and other anti-undead effects; Childer Revenant cannot even be damaged by any weapon with less than a +5 enchantment unless another enchantment (eg elemental damage) is at play

Gravesteel Weapons

While obviously not an undead type, Gravesteel is a weapon unique to Withered Mask undead and operatives. Natural steel is smelted with alchemical compounds known only to the Withered Mask, and finished products receive their god's personal blessing, and the end result is something truly, truly nasty. Gravesteel is just a smidge off color from proper steel, a little darker, a little more purple around where light strikes along the blades -- and it's always blades, never blunt things, things meant to dig into flesh and inflict their curse as deeply within the body as possible.

- Wounds caused by Gravesteel HURT to heal either naturally or via healing magic; the curse is from the god of inflicting suffering, after all, so suffer you will if you get hit and need healing.
- Limbs amputated by Gravesteel can be neither regenerated nor reattached, and the victim is doomed to remain an amputee for life no matter what surgical procedures or healing magic are available that would ordinarily correct the problem.
- Anything with angelic/celestial blood is hit with a necrotizing curse that turns the blood to tendon-eating acid and makes the organs begin to decompose while the angel (or partial angel) is still alive to suffer the agony of rotting from the inside out. A specific counter-curse known only to the Veiled Sisters of the Withered Mask and the Cryptkeepers of the Silver Shroud is needed to save the angel's existence and remove the aspect of the curse that causes healing magic to accelerate the decomposition.


Posted Image
The Withered Mask

The God, the Order

The Withered Mask is a religious organization, a church, as much as it is a necromantic cult or an army of grave-defilers. The Masks are a group of highly intelligent, passionate, creative, determined people, possessed of faith, courage, loyalty, and a fiercer kind of love than the Silver Shroud can comprehend. These would be positive qualities if they didn't devote themselves to Nalthraxxi, patron god of torture, pain, enslaving the weak, enslaving the dead, and undermining the afterlife. Nalthraxxi is the twin brother to Myune the Grave-Watcher, matron goddess of the Silver Shroud, and the two religious orders have long had a terrifying kind of sibling rivalry, driving each other to further and further extremes in their battles for dominance...and ultimately genocide.

What makes the living servants of Nalthraxxi more terrifying still, however, is that Nalthraxxi, being the god of undeath, has a tendency to bless His servants with a second go at things, and when Masks pop back up again, they tend to be incredibly powerful. The individual blessings vary by class purpose, but every specialized undead form is unique and devastatingly lethal if allowed to gain momentum. As such, members of the Withered Mask are to be killed with extreme caution and with much attention payed to purpose served and predicted mode of return.

Death Mask of Nalthraxxi

If you say "paladin", the average person thinks of the paragon of goodness and law, but the word breaks down to "defender of the faith", and every faith has defenders. The Death Masks are the paladins called to Nalthraxxi's banner, the knights who flank the necromancers. Guardians, protectors, soldiers, servants, unflinching and unfailing, brutal and unrelenting. It takes a great deal of physical power to be a Death Mask in the first place; it's a demanding set of duties as merciless on the dark paladins as they are expected to be on the world. However, when a Death Mask is slain, that physical power more than doubles -- his strength, his fortitude, his nimbleness. A risen Death Mask attacking from beyond the grave can easily fling aside adult dragons more often than not, and while not fully hasted, he's a lot faster than most of the living are on their feet. Given that and the sheer amount of damage he can soak without being actually injured, members of the Silver Shroud favor disabling Death Masks without killing them: they cannot continue the fight if they're unconscious, they don't resurrect if they're not dead, and the time and space that reprieve allows gives the Shrouds time to derive something physically devastating enough to render the Death Mask inert even in resurrection. No matter how strong they are, there is only so much they can do without arms and legs, for example, which, while ugly, is often sadly necessary.

Recognizing a Death Mask: Death Masks of Nalthraxxi are distinctive from the Withered Mask ranks by the vivid face paints they wear. A bone white base, mimicking the cheekbone and mandibles, reds and browns to depict decaying flesh, eerie purple winding around the too-lifelike details in what almost looks like a pulsing glow, veins of corruption wrapped around disease and decay.

They are also the members of the Withered Mask who wear the best armor, significantly technologically advanced articulated plate mail that both takes a hit and allows the wearer to continue moving freely and without undue encumbrance. The armor is expensive, but the Withered Mask spares no expense for its most valiant and courageous defenders...much to the chagrin of the Crypt Knights of Myune, who must then struggle to strike a blow against their well-fortified foes. Death Masks, alive or undead, are nimble, powerful, armed and armored to the teeth, and are not only willing to go to extremes, but look to extremes as a first resort.

Some of the OOC mechanics for Death Mask Resurrection


Veiled Sisters

Just as Nalthraxxi only ever seems to Call men to the path of paladin, only women ever make the truly elite clerical ranks. The Veiled Sisters are an elite cult within the Withered Mask, feared, revered, spoken of in hushed and fearful tones even by their own members. By some measure, she is a wizard, a necromancer capable of performing the foulest afterlife-defying rituals. She raises the damned and profanes the dead. In another measure, She is a priest, vastly blessed and favored by Nalthraxxi, to whom the Veiled Sisters are as cherished as daughters. But what makes a Veiled Sister most feared of all is not her arcane might, nor the divine bounty of her god that she wields as easily as breathing. What makes her most feared of all is that she is, above and beyond all else, an elite surgeon.

The various specialized undead forms deployed by the Withered Mask require special care in their creation. Much of this special care is actually perimortem, in fact comprising the bulk of the torture meted out to captured victims of the Withered Mask. The people who become the truly unique masterpieces are surgically altered while they are alive so that their alterations can be healed into their bodies. This creates a stronger, more natural foundation, most important for joint and bone reinforcements and things like finger-mounted blades that need to be very well secured so they don't sustain damage in combat.

And combat with a Veiled Sister can be truly vicious. The common perception of spellcasters as being fragile never quite took the surgically-strengthened Veiled Sisters into account, that and the Veiled Sisters hold pain sacred. Hurting them just tends to make their faith in Nalthraxxi that much stronger, a faith He repays tenfold should one of His daughters fall. A Death Mask rises as an unstoppable juggernaut of physical destruction; a Veiled Sister rises as a blizzard of necrotic magic and life-leeching corruption. She is also invincible, in the way of most liches, until her phylactery is destroyed. For Veiled Sisters, this phylactery is a single carved bone somewhere within her own skeleton, though which specific bone varies by individual, lest the Silver Shroud know where to look before they start cutting. Until this phylactery bone is destroyed, she can rise indefinitely, no matter how much damage her body actually takes. Silver Shroud protocol is usually immediate dismemberment and separation of parts, while teams simultaneously search for the altered bone in the various...chunks, preferably destroying it before she has a chance to get up and fight back again.

Recognizing a Veiled Sister: A woman who serves Nalthraxxi in the highest esteem can be easily recognized by her garb. She wears a long, flowing robe that is almost more gown-like than the ascetic robe one might associate with a priestess, except augmented with an armored breastplate and pauldrons protecting her shoulders. Most Veiled Sisters wear white, though higher-ranking Sisters dress in grey, and the Sister Superior, head of the cult, wears black. The veil for which the order is named is usually only worn during surgeries and rituals, not for day-to-day things. She carries a ritually decorated bone dagger in her belt, and holds her head high and her shoulders back, unafraid of anything. Her gloves were white when she first received them as an Initiate, but they'll be in shades of old brown and fresher reds by now, dyed by countless blood stains that are replenished too often to ever be washed clean. Surprisingly little blood gets on her robe from the surgeries, but the gloves take a lot of staining. Also in her belt is a long sort of satchel, which, when unfolded, reveals a terrifying array of surgical tools and implements of torture, though which are what is anyone's guess.

And a few OOC mechanics on Veiled Sisters
Edited by Belial, Feb 3 2017, 10:55 AM.
"Life is not about what you deserve. Life is about free will, life is about what you choose. Afterlife is about what you deserve, and all the Heavens forfend you deserve me." --Belial

"Redemption is a work in progress. I've...got a lot of work left to do." --Shrayla

"Fair winds and good fortune to you, friend." --Khareesh

"I think you have me mistaken for someone penitent, and I don't appreciate it." --Melonwei

"If someone rains on your parade, start dancing in the rain." --Linah

"The rules of the Lord of Poetic Justice are very simple. You do unto others as you would have me do unto you, aye?" -- Aletha Hoarfrost

"War's the candy, I'm just the wrapper, but that doesn't make me ready to die any time soon." --Arieh Harel
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Belial
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Bridge Team: Jacien, Alianne -- Rajani, Cain, Raeneth, Mute

Cobalt has wandered underground

Team Triage: Miralet Valariel -- Sehanine, Tidesweep, Alaric, *Naholesh

Infirmary: Cern, Niall Harris, Jacien, Keldos, Calaeron

Team Traps and Ambush: Shrayla -- Linah (AKA Bridge Team Pt. II)

Team Patrol and Blockade: Rhaleese/Matalth -- Khareesh/Myth, Zalanth

Active NPCs: Alianne, Miralet, Rhaleese/Matalth, R'nor/Maglaith, T'rvor/Ormlaith, Tiva/Boranth, Mysterious Survivor Calaeron, Karen Cunningham, Niall Harris, Lyla Mason, Criss Mason, Old Man Renson, Moira Hannigan, Nashani, Mistwatcher Zaraf, Valariel, *Eldain, Tyrend, Liriala, Veiled Sister Melonwei

Active Enemies: Death Mask Jakoba, Sister Superior Veridanza, Sister Novitiate Genevieve, Artoro Alcott, Apprentice Necromancer, Zombie Goliath, Zombie Hunter, 10 Sturdy Zombies, Initiate Nianca, Initiate Yennali


Characters and shinies will be sorted into these four teams. The first names mentioned are the "team captains", the ones in charge of whatever operation they're heading. Characters and shinies will be added to their appropriate teams for the next round once parts are volunteered for. Helps me keep track of everyone!

The Wall of Service


Dragon Ormlaith, rider T'rvor
Dragon Ymblath, rider Meg
Dragon Wulth, rider A'kran
Dragon Namiath, rider G'laran
Dragon Piedmoth, rider Jemma
Dragon Balorth, rider M'ron
Dragon Isandorath, rider V'laryn
Dragon Glimroth, rider K'vel
Dragon Frannth, rider Maeve
Dragon Veritath, rider Nina
Dragon Paleoth, rider G'dar
Dragon Jenzath, rider R'nor
Dragon Minareth, rider Lora
Moira Hannigan
Cryptkeeper Miralet
Dragon Lorimath
Dragon Novath, rider B'loric
Old Man Renson
*Naholesh
Dragon Taveth, rider N'daro
Dragon Baileth, rider Gabrielle
Dragon Manth, rider K'dar
Dragon Valarth, rider Morgan
Dragon Soirth, rider V'dana
Dragon Winnth, rider Qara
Dragon Poranath, rider M'kadari
Dragon Tannanorth, rider B'lordan
Dragon Roth, rider Betty
Dragon Zeeroth, rider G'dor
Dragon Jededoth, rider N'gor
Dragon Beloranth, rider Reagan
Dragon Donnarth, rider Shea
Dragon Ularth, rider J'nah
Dragon Imanath, rider Craig
Dragon Xaroth, rider P'kiri
Dragon Luarath, rider Donna
Father Niall Harris
*Eldain
Dragon Rondath, rider D'rel
Edited by Belial, May 28 2018, 05:08 PM.
"Life is not about what you deserve. Life is about free will, life is about what you choose. Afterlife is about what you deserve, and all the Heavens forfend you deserve me." --Belial

"Redemption is a work in progress. I've...got a lot of work left to do." --Shrayla

"Fair winds and good fortune to you, friend." --Khareesh

"I think you have me mistaken for someone penitent, and I don't appreciate it." --Melonwei

"If someone rains on your parade, start dancing in the rain." --Linah

"The rules of the Lord of Poetic Justice are very simple. You do unto others as you would have me do unto you, aye?" -- Aletha Hoarfrost

"War's the candy, I'm just the wrapper, but that doesn't make me ready to die any time soon." --Arieh Harel
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Tidesweep
Shrine Attendant
[ *  *  * ]
Cain would step out of the forest soon after the hellhound, having followed the other to get to the right location. The village itself wasn't hard to find. He knew where that was easily enough. But the Shroud? They were someone he would want to find right away. Given what had been going on in that village for at least a few months. He himself had knew about what the Mask was doing for about an month and a half. Not much that died escaped past him. Though it could be annoying from time to time, as a Servant of Death, he was able to tell when something had passed on, but he usually filtered that out. After all, death was a part of life.

Rising it on the hand, wasn't.

A simple long sleeve shirt and pants would be all he would be wearing other than his hat, scarf, and weapons. The rain didn't seem to bother him much as he approached the three Shroud priests, being careful not to make any wrong movements. While he did know one of them wasn't likely to smite him then and there, the other two were variables and ones that should be handle with caution.

After all, among the Servants, the Silver Shroud had just as much reputation as the Withered Mask. Just for very different reasons.

Giving them a nod each, he paused and understanding what their order stood for and even a bit about what they went though, he spoke quietly. He just hoped Serena's information on them had been right and he wasn't about to stick his bony foot in his mouth. Serena had a reputation herself of collecting too many stories and getting them confused, but when he had first sensed the Mask at work, he had went to her to find out what the hell was going on. What she had to tell him made even someone's worse hell look like a cuddly kitten.

"You could not have prevented this. Even if you knew about it when they first came." He kept his voice quiet, even as the howling continued. He dared not speak louder for he had a sneaking suspicion that a lovely side effect was to make would be enemies yell louder and give away their positions. Probably not the main one, but a side effect nonetheless. "I know of your order. Most of us who also serve Death do. But you could not have stopped this. They were fated to die. Maybe not in this way. Maybe not by a hand like them, but they were going to die before the year was out."

He pulled his hat down low though, even as he chuckled quietly. "Doesn't make our jobs any easier and I've been prepping for almost two months now." The fact that he had to leave it alone till someone else found it and banded together still grated on his ribs. The rules of being a Servant weren't many but they were there. Unless Death specifically instructed you to do something, you weren't allowed to interfere with mass murders or murderers such as the Mask without someone else finding out and mounting a counterattack first. Cain and his predecessors though had one more requirement those that came after him didn't. If it threatened where they had made home, they could intervene.

Blackthrone wasn't home though. Haven was. So there was nothing he could do about it. Not till Jacien, Miralet, and Ariadne had found out for themselves. And he couldn't push them towards it either. No matter how much he may have wanted too, that would have taken him out of this fight.

And he very much wanted to be in on this fight.

Adjusting his ammo pouch once more, he made sure the type he wanted was on top and all the other types he had were down below. Silver and sage. Cinnamon and a rune that froze. They were good for banishing some forces of devilry. Against the undead? Most likely not. That is why the ones made with his bones and even the bones of the other Servants were on top. Those would be the most effect if past experience was anything to go by.

No companion would be by his side. He would be alone. The only one he trusted was Dorth and seeing as how she wouldn't be able to fit, he had ordered her to stay away. While normally she would scroff at that, she listened this time. For one thing Serena for sure got right was the fact that the Withered Mask was none for rising those they killed in battle, no matter whose side or even what they were before.

Cain wisely decided not to chance that with a dragon. While he was sure Dorth would have given them a run for their money in the battle of wills department, it was just too dangerous.

Besides, someone had to be around to fetch his skull should the worst happened.
"Death has a bone to pick with you and I'm here to help out." -Cain Skelington

"The waves have their own music...Are you listening?" - Tidesweep

"Don't take my silence for agreement. That would be a mistake."- Gertude Weavian

"I will protect what is mine with a will forged like a diamond."- Mildred Fresi

"Healing can take time. Lucky for you, you should having nothing but it for awhile."- Jeremi Kgute
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Raferties
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When you had a dragon who was just about as holy-righteous as you were, hearing of things such as undead and the like, as was being projected to Zalanth from Lyenath, well, deciding not to come was simply out of the question.

Plus as Firstborn Archangel of Solaris these kind of threats were more than being something Keldos felt was within his scope: it was almost exactly what he had been created for. If only demons were involved as well, then he'd be in his forte hands and wings down. But undead, surely, he could be of assistance even if it were just separating a few skulls from shoulders.

The mottle bronze would be his conveyance as the storm combined with the distance from Haven Weyr to Blackthorn made using his own wings to fly there now only impossible but utterly stupid. Even angel wings could only handle so much wind before the risk of crashing or breaking bones became high. So Zalanth Betweened there, carrying her fully armed and armored Rider as well as some assistance that would function better in a village than she would: Cern the Grathkin. The large albino gorilla warrior had agreed with the others bonded to Keldos that while the archangel was strong it was always wisest to take what help could be useful. Keldos had no doubts about the Grathkin's combat prowess - they sparred together often - and by this point fought side-by-side with a skill that Keldos had only had with a few of his Archangel brothers.

Zalanth landed where able, allowing the pair to slide down her rain-wet side. Both angel and gorilla were less-than-pleased with the rain as it basically matted their wings to uselessness, but it was simply a situation that couldn't be helped.

I will return to the Weyr, and retrieve anyone that may need the conveyance. Be safe, K'dos. Keldos reached up as she lowered her head to stroke her scales in a rare public show of affection between them.

"I shall. Fly safely, Zalanth." Her eyes whirled briefly in regard for him, then she was airborne and away, vanishing back home. With even paces, the pair of winged warriors joined the gathering. Keldos gave Cain a nod of greeting, remembering him well and taking note of his guns. Given the power he'd seen in them before when Cain had kindly demonstrated them, he sincerely hoped that the rain wouldn't hinder either their effectiveness or Cain's aim. Jacien... he couldn't recall meeting, and most certainly not the two females with him.

"What are the forces we are facing?" he asked straightaway. No sense in beating around the bush. Cern also spoke up, his voice soft but deep, even deeper in tone than Keldos' despite Keldos topping him by a good foot or more (though in breath they were about the same).

"Are there any civilians remaining in Blackthorn, or have they all fallen?" Yes, between them they would be quite a pair of warriors for this. Hopefully.

Posted Image (Temporary icon until I can make a proper Ghulra for her)

Zalanth, as it would turn out, did find someone who needed a ride to Blackthorn. Cobalt had heard word of the attack on the village, and that undead were involved. Unlike some, she not only had little fear of undead (mostly due to A - having fought them before in the armies of Karnnath and B - being a Warforged with no flesh, blood, or brains to be feasted upon), but knew a few things about fighting them. Well, in as much as she could given this was Teragaia and not Eberron. But bones broke the same on any world, right? Right!

What had actually taken some time was a discussion between her Bondeds on whom should accompany her. Given it was in a village, the whole retinue knew that they would get in her way as a group, so it was agreed upon that only one should make the journey with her. But each had their own ideas as to whom would be best suited to stand as her comrade in this battle. Karrn had the best combative prowess, both Bulwark and Thronehold were protective of her, and Fairhaven could help her with improvising when plans went awry. Ironically, though, it was Cannith the Athid who was concealed within Cobalt's shoulderplates when she finally departed the Village. While all the others were useful in battle, only Cannith had even begun to understand how to repair the Warforged. This was invaluable since she was clearly going into a combat situation.

So less than three minute after vanishing, Zalanth reappeared, this time dropping off Cobalt onto the soggy turf. The Warforged was less uncomfortable with the rain - while chilly, it wasn't enough so to threaten her and she couldn't exactly catch a cold - so she appeared rather at ease as she joined the others. Jacien as well as Cain got a nod and a small brightening of her eyes and relaxing of her jaw, a Warforged smile, but then she returned to a more serious mien (good luck at anyone else catching the expression!), ready to get to business.

Angel and gorilla warrior, allies, swords, armor, melee. Two females, silver wraps as Jacien, allies of Jacien. One armor and sword, melee, other robes, possible priest or mage, guard. Cain, known ally, ranged, guard. Designations snapped across her thoughts with the speed of ingrained habit, as did the final designation. Jacien, commander of this mission. Thus is was to Jacien she spoke in tones of obedience and respect as befitting the position she'd assigned him.

"What intelligence on the enemy, and what are our orders?"
Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari.
Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Belial
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The three watchers on the hill stood in silence as first Cain arrived, then Keldos and Cern, then Cobalt.

Their questions were each nodded at in turn, first, an acknowledgement that they had indeed been heard and were not being ignored, but the time was not yet right. Except it apparently was, because no further arrivals seemed to be coming.

Yet, anyway. The night was still fairly young.

"You all ask the sensible questions," Jacien began, nodding again to each recruited helper in turn as he touched on their individual queries. "Number, position, survivors. Who. And what will be waiting for all of us in that ruined little village down there."

"They could stand some context, I think," Alianne murmured, voice quiet but by no means inaudible. "I'd normally say we don't have time, but I don't think the villagers are going to get any deader and we can't ask them to step into an ancient holy war without knowing what's what and why. And to answer that question, no, there will be no survivors. If we find anyone still alive, by now it will be kinder to end them peacefully than continue their torment."

Jacien drew in a heavy breath and blew it out, spitting out rainwater as he did so. "Context! Right. Brief history lesson. This is a problem that came from our world, likely when the Illogical Field plucked us up and brought us here. For twenty six thousand years, our holy orders have been trying to crush each other. Our gods are twins, see, Myune the Gravewatcher, our goddess, matron of the Silver Shroud, is the goddess of the sanctity of the tomb, the guardian of the gate. Their god, Nalthraxxi...well, he's the god of evil necromancy, undeath, the subjugation of the dead, but also the torture and enslavement of the living. Twenty six thousand years our orders, the Silver Shroud and the Withered Mask, have had our talons locked in what we both hope will ultimately be genocide."

"Nothing like casually throwing that word into the conversation!" Miralet snapped, but then she immediately folded, scrubbing rain off of her face with a too-pale hand. "Except it is. Our religions are mutually exclusive and cannot coexist, thus we destroy each other. Problem really arises from the fact that adversity breeds ingenuity, and we've given each other a whole lot of adversity. They're not just raising the dead down there, you know, they're hand-crafting an army of customized and tailored minions with specific and special powers, and given that their best undead are powered by pain, it's...it's a hideous existence. They're not mindless zombies, you know, they're trapped, screaming people begging for mercy while their bodies perform atrocities independent of any cognitive command."

Jacien's silver eyes, luminescent in the darkness, blinked several slow times in quiet agreement of Miralet's estimation.

"What's down there...oh, and lest I forget, the undead villagers aren't even going to be the fun part. Nalthraxxi is a nasty god, but He is loyal to those who are loyal to Him. Those who give their lives in service to Nalthraxxi don't stay dead. Or, well, no, they stay dead, they don't stay inanimate. They pop back up and they're a few orders of magnitude scarier than they were the first time." The aasimar spared a humorless grin for Cain. "I'm sure you of all people remember that. You met Nazir. You saw me kill Nazir. You watched Nazir howl back to life strong enough to knock over that giant reptile -- someone called it a Tyrannosaurus Rex? -- like it weighed nothing at all. Those like him will do the same to the lot of you, so be very, very careful about killing the necromancers and their knight protectors."

"You'll be facing an array of the dead down there," Miralet continued, all business now, her small form made apparently taller by posture and commanding presence. The tiniest one-legged drill sergeant was she, weight pressed down on her cane, which was sinking into the mud in the rain. "Anything raised by any of the apprentice necromancers or as initial fodder to simply take control of the village will be standard. Zombies, maybe skeletons if they got any bones from the cemetery."

"They're dangerous in numbers and they're fast," Alianne added, her voice clarion-clear over the roar of the rain. "But they're not going to be your problem. You're really going to have to-"

Alianne's next words were drowned out by the flapping of large wings, and a Brown Mottle dragon landed behind the group, disembarking two female figures before launching back up into the sky and presumably returning to the Weyr.

"Gonna have to what?" Shrayla prompted, bow in hand. "Sorry we're late. Weyr's in a right mess over that drum cadence, total chaos."

The woman behind Shrayla was a few inches taller than the werewolf, or the same height if you counted Shrayla's height at the tips of her ears instead of the top of her skull. Arguably Grecian complexion, long brassy hair rapidly being soaked into a pseudo-curly mess of wet by the rain.

"I'm new here. Name's Linah. Heard there's trouble. Figured I'd help."

Jacien nodded. "Ms. Wolf-Ears over there fill you in on what's been said thus far?"

"Iyenath too. Assume we're caught up, keep going."

Miralet coughed pointedly, rapping her cane against a tree. "There have been many plans, over the years, to hamper their efforts. Anti-necromancer body disposal tactics. It's all a pretty funny joke to the Mask. Some of the undead you'll be facing down there are perfected art, expertly tailored by masters of the craft and imbued with powers beyond the basic undead you could ordinarily expect to face.

For example, they have always said to burn the bodies. Burn the bodies and the dead won't rise! But that, my duckies, merely led to the creation of the Ash Wraith. An Ash Wraith is the animated remains of a cremated cadaver. They're insubstantial, they're difficult to hit, and capable of suffocating the living to death in minutes, not to mention the physical havoc they can wreak, moving between solidity and grit plumes at will. They're already consecrated by their cremation, so holy energy has absolutely no effect on them whatsoever, and should you find one, your best bet to slow it down is to get it wet. Wet ash moves slower than dry ash, and that can sometimes give you the necessary advantage to finish it off by some spell or other. As you might guess, bringing fire against ashes is an exercise in futility."

Miralet went on to explain more varieties in detail, their strengths, their weaknesses, if any, what to do and more importantly, perhaps, what not to do. Most of what she had to say was gory but not too bad until a long, high-pitched skreel lanced through the night and the rain from the village, a soul-piercing keen of both savage predatory joy and acute physical agony.

Alianne shivered perceptibly, the disgusted shudder rattling her armor.

"And that, my associates," Jacien murmured, sandy voice cutting clear across the din of raindrops making landfall, "is the Childer Revenant. That's the reason the Silver Shroud has such strict rules against reproduction."

The paladin's hands went subconsciously to the articulated joints that armored her belly. The articulation in the armor allowed her core flexibility, allowed her to turn in combat almost as gracefully as an unarmored opponent. Alianne caught herself pressing her hands to her belly and forcibly tore them away, gripping her sword with more force than necessary and re-balancing her weight to a combat-ready stance. Her entire posture shifted from vulnerable to lethal in a heartbeat.

"I hate the Childers," Miralet sighed, heavy heart worn on her sleeve. "Those poor kids. Never older than ten, but never younger than four, just large enough to be physically useful. Parents are bound up and forced to watch, child is tortured to death over the course of weeks. Injuries healed and victims force-fed to keep them alive long enough to suffer to their fullest, you know, and then when the child's body finally gives out beyond healing magic's reach, the souls are dragged back and the bodies are reanimated and imbued and the end result is a monstrosity more than powerful enough to physically crush anyone here, particularly if its size or...child-ness...catches you unawares. Do NOT go into this village alone, and do not assume that something small is going to be less dangerous."

"They would do that to CHILDREN?" Linah, incredulous, looking more than vaguely nauseated at the thought.

"Makes sense, though," Shrayla mused. "No faster way to demoralize an enemy pack than by parading their dead and dying pups in front of them. This is just a creative new interpretation. And not even new, according to our friends in black, if they've been at this for so many millennia." The werewolf checked her pack and her bow. "I say we set up a few traps around the village before we actually go in. Choke points, kill zones. Insurance against runners, not that I'm expecting many of those from your descriptions."

Jacien's eyebrows raised, two lines of non-light above silvery traces of soft glow. "That's actually not a bad idea. See, we should out-source for help more often! How about you lead the team for that? Since you know what you're doing on that front. And then you can hem the edges when everything starts up."

I don't think the Weyr is taking that drum cadence lying down, Rajani observed, the Hellhound's ears going alert. I hear dragon wings. Distant-ish, but there.

Maglaith and R'nor checking in at south road!

Ormlaith and T'rvor checking in at east road!

Matalth and Rhaleese checking in at north road!

Boranth and Tiva checking in at west road!

The wide-broadcast signals of Weyr dragonriders checking in continued for some several minutes, enough for those present to ascertain that while the dragons couldn't fit in the village of Blackthorn, they could, instead, surround it.

Nimble wings cut the rain above the collected party, and another dragon's voice rang out with the clarity of a bell in a windstorm.

Myth and K'reesh checking in for perimeter watch! Weyrwoman Sandasa says to tell you that we can't help you in the village, but by Aeon, you're not alone tonight! If anything flees, it flees to us!

"I suppose I should have expected the Weyr to react, sending Iyenath as my messenger," Jacien mused, looking up into the darkness at the multitude of wings that everyone could hear overhead and all around.

K'reesh and I will be circling over your heads. If we see anything, you'll be told.

"Well, he's found literally the only useful niche for himself in this endeavor," Shrayla muttered, shaking water from her ears. Her tail was a lost cause for the time being, a scraggly wet rat-thing. Jacien coughed in her direction, and Shrayla straightened up immediately. "Right. Anyone else good with traps? On me! We'll hem these bastards in."

"Research and healing on me," Miralet beckoned, expecting to gather precisely nobody, though Linah made the surprising move to her side.

"I'm not great with first aid, but I'm better than nothing," was her explanation. "And I'm not sure my weapons can make a dent here."

"Right. Well, you'll be helping me gather intelligence on what we're facing so that our allies here can benefit from knowing what they're up against in real time. Happen to have any of those creature companions on you? We could use one to relay information quickly."

I believe I may be of assistance!

The Gryphon that descended was regal and every bit as beautiful as a noble female from the Order of the Rose ought, but the red crosses emblazoned on her wings set her apart, as did her holy aura.

Really, Shrayla, an attack of the undead and you think you can leave me out of it? No. But I am also a skilled healer, and I can be the method of communication between you and the collected party.

"Sorry, Sehanine, was in a bit of a hurry. Sehanine, this is everyone, everyone, this is Sehanine. She hates the undead too."

"AHEM." Jacien's sharp look quieted werewolf and Gryphon both. "Thank you. Now, those who would prefer to just wade into combat should form up on me and Ali here. And we'll go through some preparations before we go down into the village proper.

And just like that, from nothing, there was a plan. Sort of.

Posted Image





Things to note this update!

◘ The Libris Mortis at the top of the adventure will be updated to include the undead Miralet describes, so you can always refer back to it at any time.

◘ Barrage of NPCs! Sorry, they're mostly inconsequential beyond this point, I just wanted to illustrate that the Weyr isn't going to just sit there and twiddle their collective thumbs in a crisis. Myth's voice is the only dragon you need to pay attention to later, as he'll be occasionally dropping useful bits of info to you.

◘ Possible roles: Your characters, the ones present and the ones who may not have joined yet, have several parts they can play in this drama. Any character with a mature dragon that you would like to have in proximity but not directly involved yet can be on blockade or patrol duty, for example, like Khareesh and all the NPCs are.

Anyone who wants to set traps and ambushes should form up on Shrayla.

Anyone who wants to collect data, patch injuries, and keep other characters alive should form up on Miralet and Linah.

Anyone seeking active combat should form up on Jacien and Alianne. This posting will have a small delay, as the attack team doesn't move in without the traps being set and a bit of intel being gathered. (Rushing in? Instant death.)

◘ Adventure is still open! Anyone who wants to join may still do so! We can fudge information details as part of an open mental network mostly maintained between Myth and Sehanine -- it's why they're there.

◘ Pics are mostly just for flavor. Don't mind me~
"Life is not about what you deserve. Life is about free will, life is about what you choose. Afterlife is about what you deserve, and all the Heavens forfend you deserve me." --Belial

"Redemption is a work in progress. I've...got a lot of work left to do." --Shrayla

"Fair winds and good fortune to you, friend." --Khareesh

"I think you have me mistaken for someone penitent, and I don't appreciate it." --Melonwei

"If someone rains on your parade, start dancing in the rain." --Linah

"The rules of the Lord of Poetic Justice are very simple. You do unto others as you would have me do unto you, aye?" -- Aletha Hoarfrost

"War's the candy, I'm just the wrapper, but that doesn't make me ready to die any time soon." --Arieh Harel
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Tidesweep
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Posted Image (And Tide)

"Yes. It was very hard to forget that image. That one and you of course nearly dying too. Too bad that is a last resort sort of thing." He nodded towards the village, everything about him finding it...Sickening in a way. "Could probably use it here. Though I don't think you would get as lucky a second time around." That was the kicker wasn't it? A powerful weapon yet you can't use it without wiping yourself out as well. He suppose that was as good of a price to pay as anything. Certainly better than having a power like that on hand with no limitations.

It was good that they had Keldos and Cobalt here. While he had never been in a fight with either one, he knew from what they had shared and done that both were warriors. And then the dragons came. He felt Dorth say she would be joining the perimeter as well, with Nynjbeth in tow to keep her out of trouble. Cain wanted to point out what a bad idea that was and then realized that leaving the younger Brown mottle behind would have just succeeded in her getting killed as well.

At least, to echo the dragons, they were not alone in this.

"Traps eh? Can't say I've ever been handy with them. Not enough grip." Moving over to stand beside Jacien, he gave them all a cheeky grin. It wasn't out of arrogance or pride that he did this. Or even a need to laugh in Death's face so to speak. No. The cheekiness all came from the fact that long ago, he had found out that if he simply believed that they could win, they usually did. Didn't always work out, but hey. He wasn't gonna laugh at it. After all, about an 80% success rate was better than an zero percent one.

Then another figured stepped out of the shadows, flanked by another gryphon. Alaric bowed to all briefly as Tide stuck close to his side. Up above, Lenaarth joined in the check in, flying to make sure nothing got to Myth should anyone down below tried anything with the dragons up above.

In the forest, Sinet and Agios roamed. Teeth barred. Hooves and claws sharpened. If any dared to try and make it past the traps that would eventually be set up, these two would make sure they would land in them. After all, one had survived worst and the other you couldn't exactly hit.

Looking between all involved, she moved to stand beside Linah, unsure where she was suppose to go exactly. Though Lenaarth reassured her she had picked the right area to go too. Alaric nodded at the other gryphon, taking a point at the back of the group of healers. Alaric and Tidesweep here. She is not much of a fighter, but her courage is tenfold.

"Alaric..." Taking a deep breath to help calm her nerves, Cain studied her. So this was the girl whose blood had caused the zombie rising and had somehow survived a blood ritual that should have killed her. Interesting.

"Do not listen to him. Except on the fighter part." She pushed her hair back from her face and gave a rue smile. "I am no fighter, but I do have some medical skills and..." She patted her bag. "I have plenty of supplies in here. Gauze, band aids, aloe, poppy oil...If I could find it, I stuck it in..." She didn't mention that she had even nervously approached the weryhealer to ask if there was anything else that she should take. That would be an experience she didn't want to repeat anytime soon. It just added more worry onto a situation that was already stressing her out some.

Scratch that. Stressing her out a lot.
"Death has a bone to pick with you and I'm here to help out." -Cain Skelington

"The waves have their own music...Are you listening?" - Tidesweep

"Don't take my silence for agreement. That would be a mistake."- Gertude Weavian

"I will protect what is mine with a will forged like a diamond."- Mildred Fresi

"Healing can take time. Lucky for you, you should having nothing but it for awhile."- Jeremi Kgute
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Cobalt, like Cain, moved to join the skeleton with Jacien. For the Warforged it was a natural decision; she was made to fight in wars, and it looked like they had one on their hands. She knew nothing of healing, and was too bulky and simply metal for scouting. The last time she had tried to be silent she had inadvertently awakened a sleeping pack of displacer beasts upon her traveling companions. That hadn't been a fun experience.

Keldos, however, looked to Jacien but hesitated.

"While I am not typically an advanced scout, if you believe it would be a sound idea I could fly above the village and see what our enemy may be doing." If he had been present (or later would find out about this), Belial might have laughed at the appearance of a heavenly High General asking advice like this. Or perhaps not. But in either case the Archangel knew how high he could fly and still see well enough events on the ground, and his armor would protect him from trouble. "Though I feel I should ask in advance what the likelihood of fiend-influenced weaponry and spells is. Those hold particular threat to Solarians such as myself, and it would not be wise for me to be taken by surprise by one. Your words did not seem to indicate such, but I learned long ago that just because a religion seems to focus on undead does not mean devils or demons cannot be involved."

When Tide arrived, Keldos gave her a nod of greeting (as well as what he hoped was encouragement; she looked worried), and also caught Cain's eye with a slight tip of his head to indicate that yes, this was the woman he'd spoken of to the skeleton a little while back. Zalanth reappeared back in the sky, joining the ranks of the dragons, even as through all the winged and scaled kind a voice spoke, that of Oroveth, Anari's pureblood gold..

The Weyr stands ready, should danger reach us. If reinforcements are needed, they will be sent. Zalanth gave a satisfied rumble. Yes, those on the hill were truly not alone.

((yeah, kinda short. Not having great concentration at the moment. I might go back and edit this later if I get inspired. Also, edited to switch out which queen was speaking.))
Edited by Raferties, Aug 29 2016, 11:46 AM.
Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari.
Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Belial
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"I almost forgot the first time we met, I committed suicide," Jacien murmured in response to Cain, shaking rain-wet bangs out of his face with some grim bemusement. "Hopefully that won't be necessary here. I don't fancy our chances, though."

Ooooh, look who sounds optimistic! You keep talking about these Withered Mask folks and all that they're capable of, but I haven't seen it yet. Maybe it's time to go see what they're up to, hmm?

"That is singularly unwise, hound," Alianna informed him. "Though perhaps we could use a bit of that advance scouting."

Oh, say no more. I'm good at stealth.

Rajani melted into the underbrush, for all the world as if he was not an oversized fire-breathing canine murder machine.

"I guess nobody's getting in on this trapping business," Shrayla muttered, hefting her bag over her shoulder. "This'll take me longer alone."

"Wait!" Linah spared a moment to hug Tide, and then separated from the Flarean quickly. "With Tide here, I don't have to play healer. Show me how your traps go together. I'm a quick study."

"All right. That said, we have to move quickly. Combat team's gonna need intel and we're gonna need these traps active." Shrayla was all business, but considering that Weyr rumor had her pegged as a professional apocalypse survivalist, well.

Maybe all business was a good thing.

Ormlaith! T'rvor and Ormlaith, you have undead incoming to the east road!

Understood.

Miralet drew herself as tall as she could, given her peg leg and the fact that she didn't have much height to work with at the outset. The small priestess took stock of her new team, minus the Immortal she'd been planning on.

Her sharp green gaze ended up on Tide. "Sounds like you came prepared to do some first aid. Good. Any good at stealth? Gonna need your eyes as well as your herbs."

Jacien considered Keldos for the moment. "We probably could use the advance scout, if the rain won't slow you down. As to their weapons, I have some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is that they disdain anything fiend-forged. The bad news is that what they use is equally nasty for you celestial types. ...well, for US celestial types, lest we forget I'm part angel, myself. Withered Mask weapons will suck you dry of that holiness and they'll leave an angel-specific necrotic rot that will not heal without some truly specific counter-rituals. Whatever you do, don't get hit. Even if you have to let someone else get hit, Keldos, trust me, it won't hurt them as badly as it will hurt you."

The aasimar's tone brooked no argument. He was well aware he was counseling against Keldos' inborn instincts and indeed morals, but he had to put the warning out there. The archangel had to be made very aware of exactly what it was they were up against. And what they were up against was a religion dedicated to...well, dedicated to what they were doing now.

Ormlaith! Ormlaith, take your Wing out of there now! Childer Revenant headed your way! Myth's voice radiated panic. He'd been paying attention via Sehanine as Miralet had described their undead foes and what those undead foes could DO. T'rvor! Ormlaith! Ymblath! Wulth! Namiath! GET BETWEEN, NOW!

Myth's mental scream faded into the very physical, visceral scream of a Childer Revenant, some ways distant to the party on the hill, down by the east road entry into Blackthorn. It was the scream of a tortured child, the scream of a voracious evil thing, the scream of the damned, the scream of the end.

It was a long, jagged, splintered noise, shattered and shattering, as if sound could be ground into the ears and soul like broken glass, and as if the soul could be doused in fuel and set aflame, blistering and bleeding in the heat.

In that horrible, eternal moment, reality seemed to blink.

And then the dragons keened.

Everyone who had Impressed felt it too. Jacien nearly collapsed to his knees, gasping, hand over his heart, eyes blown wide in sudden grieving agony as transmitted to him by Iyenath.

Down the hill a ways, Shrayla and Linah staggered, affected by Anaeth, Tiombeth, Mialuth.

The inter-connectivity of the dragons was invaluable, most times, but when one died, they all felt it, and when NINE died all at once, the collective grief was profound and crippling, and also contagious to anyone else connected to their mental network -- in short, their riders.

Alianna bowed her head in the rain.

"How many dragons?"

"Nine," Jacien choked, shaking, struggling to pull himself together under an assault of emotions that weren't even his own.

"That's a minimum of eighteen lives lost just there," Alianna muttered, saddened in the abstract, but still entirely goal-oriented. "And we haven't even started yet. Believe it or not, we're lucky we only lost eighteen in the opening volley. It's only going to get harder from here on out."

"Just a moment." Jacien forced himself back upright and started chanting in a strange language, a language that bore no resemblance to the Myunic script he sometimes spoke in, if anyone had ever overheard his rare prayers. The syllables were as crisp and clear as they were unintelligible, and one by one, magical effects swept out and settled over the collected group members.

Jacien has buffed the party!


"We're going to need to head down soon," Alianna informed the group, unaffected, seemingly, by the mass slaughter that had happened in an instant just a quarter mile away. "The wolf-woman and the other one will need time to set their traps and if our healers and scouts are going to prepare or scout, they'll need a distraction keeping eyes off of them. It's time for a minor offensive, I think. Jacien?"

"Slowly, carefully, we are going to go for a little walk down this hill. And hopefully Rajani will meet us with some numbers, but we're likely to meet some resistance first. They've figured out we're here. Welcoming party's at the bridge."

Just down the hill from where the party was gathered, planning, the road hit a bridge over a stream, and beyond that was the village.

The sad remains of harvest festival pennants had long been trampled into the mud or they hung ragged and forgotten over the decaying corpses that now decorated various lamp posts and other vertical surfaces. Some bodies had even been erected on spikes.

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And at that bridge?

A mob of zombies and skeletons. Waiting almost patiently for someone to come say hello. Or maybe their perception radius wasn't quite good enough to see all the way up to the top of the hill and they were patient because they didn't yet see the invaders that were about to...invade.

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Let the slaughter begin!

◘ NPCs are going to die. A lot. The Wall of Service is the memorial to everyone who dies this adventure.

◘ If anyone wants to give it a try, there's a side-quest of sorts if you want your character to "die" via one of the Childer screams. Illogical Field is present and accounted for, so you can die and still walk out alive here. XD

◘ Have some fun with the appointed tasks however you want. Be that SNEEKING and gathering intel or engaging the mob of zombies and skeletons at the bridge, get a little creative. Pictures are, again, for flavor, not necessarily a literal depiction.
Edited by Belial, Sep 23 2016, 10:01 AM.
"Life is not about what you deserve. Life is about free will, life is about what you choose. Afterlife is about what you deserve, and all the Heavens forfend you deserve me." --Belial

"Redemption is a work in progress. I've...got a lot of work left to do." --Shrayla

"Fair winds and good fortune to you, friend." --Khareesh

"I think you have me mistaken for someone penitent, and I don't appreciate it." --Melonwei

"If someone rains on your parade, start dancing in the rain." --Linah

"The rules of the Lord of Poetic Justice are very simple. You do unto others as you would have me do unto you, aye?" -- Aletha Hoarfrost

"War's the candy, I'm just the wrapper, but that doesn't make me ready to die any time soon." --Arieh Harel
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Tidesweep
Shrine Attendant
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Tide

Tide hugged Linah back, highly confused till she realized that Linah was moving towards Shrayla. Wait! Linah! Come back. The look on Tide's face was easily one of panic and fright. She wasn't that good of a healer. Linah was probably better. Plus, Linah could fight and was strong and and and...Her mind went off into a long downward spiral that Alaric quickly put a stop too by nuzzling up against her. He would kindly and softly remind her that she was the girl who ran through a wall of fire for him. Who faced down a steam elemental with nothing more than a few rock shards. This whole thing about her not being brave and strong was completely and utterly false.

Though Tide didn't quite believe him, it got her thoughts back on track at least.

At the question, Tide just blinked at Miralet for a moment before looking down at the ground. "I can be quiet...Would that count?" She almost shrunk in on herself. Of course she had to be good at stealth, but the thing was, she never had to test anything and she highly doubted that sneaking away from an overbearing once deer now horse companion counted as such. Though it did and Tide was a lot better than she gave herself credit for.

She is stealthy when the need calls for it. And I will provide a more...Visual cover so to speak should any of you need it. Cause you know...Gryphons were exactly made for stealth. Well...One half was. The other half? Not so much.

Tide suddenly felt her blood run cold. Freezing cold. Gasping, she hugged herself and knelt down, trying not to throw up from the pain welling up in her heart. In her mind. The pain. The sadness. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as the mental anguish and backlash from Lenaarth and Ithakath ran through her.

"Nine...." She barely managed to grasp out the words as Alaric gently nuzzled her into a standing position and supported her. The dazed look on her face quickly turned into a determined one, despite the heartache she still felt and the tears she still cried. "Alaric." Her voice held finally got some steel into it even as she pushed back the emotional pain she felt. One way to get her to do something was threaten those she loved and Khareesh was up there with Myth as well as Lenaarth...If it had been their group instead... "I am good now. Thank you." She would give the order of Honor gryphon a brief hug before looking to the others.

"They are not going to have died in vain. I will not let them have died in vain." Didn't mean she would act stupid though for it. Thank the universe. Just means that Miralet would actually have someone useful on her hands now. Too bad she couldn't have come to this conclusion sooner...Might have helped just a bit.

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"Can't say I do either." They were all marked. He could see it now. It was like that first volley of anguish which he had felt but didn't react too, had finally brought down the marching orders. They were all marked for Death. Though it wasn't a for sure type of marking. It was the type he had seen right before battles in a war. When Death wasn't sure who he would take so he just earmarked them all to make things easier when the bullets found their targets. Though in this case, it might not be as easy as one would want. These people took Death and twisted the ways to suit their own needs.

Despicable.

Pulling out his guns, he flicked the safeties off and gave a skeletal like smile. "Well then...If they need a diversion, what are we standing around here for?"

Moving down the hill, Cain was relaxed as he carefully picked his way down. "What do you know? The whole family is here. Go figure." Once again making light, Cain didn't even really bother for cover. Maybe for the first half so he wouldn't give away the rest of the party's position but after he was fairly sure it would be hard to tell which way he had come from, he stopped worrying about cover and just started making his way down the hell.

"Is this attack first and ask questions later or wait till we see the blacks of their eyes? Cause I much prefer attack first."

"Death has a bone to pick with you and I'm here to help out." -Cain Skelington

"The waves have their own music...Are you listening?" - Tidesweep

"Don't take my silence for agreement. That would be a mistake."- Gertude Weavian

"I will protect what is mine with a will forged like a diamond."- Mildred Fresi

"Healing can take time. Lucky for you, you should having nothing but it for awhile."- Jeremi Kgute
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Raferties
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"Play healer..." The words had caused a faint idea to twitch at the back of Keldos' mind, though he hesitated to bring it up. For one, the IF could interfere and make him unable to use that particular Solaris-granted power. For another, even if he was able, however briefly, to open the Gate and step through, it would take precious time to explain things and if he was unable to return... the thought was more loathsome than he was willing to contemplate. No, not loathsome. Simply unthinkable! Zalanth even looked over from where she was whirling in watchful circles overhead, sensing some distress in her Rider but not knowing exactly what, as the Archangel had slammed the mental lid on that idea quickly.

Only is the need is dire. I simply cannot risk it otherwise.

He had no more time for contemplation, as the call came of danger approaching from one flank. On instinct his head snapped in that direction, looking for the source but finding it too far away, a distant breech. Dragons and their riders were already flying to intercept. He re-orientated his attention on Jacien when he was addressed, though the words he heard made him frown. Yes, hearing that the threat of fiend weapons was nil was good, but what they had instead...

"The rain will not slow me," he replied. "While I was not given waterproof wings, I have the strength to manage them even damp, and have practiced long in ill-weather flying. Though allowing someone to be struck in my stead..." It was clear that the thought was a struggle for him to accept.

Try, K'dos, came Zalanth's rumble in his mind. I do not know what I would do without you, and Solaris needs you here. The knowledge that she was correct on both counts - he couldn't just think about himself as an individual anymore, was lacking Seraphim backup, and that Solaris never desired any of his angels to risk themselves foolishly for any reason let alone pride - was enough to make the Firstborn bow both his will and his head to the advice.

"I will try to remember, Jacien. Though I will not deny it will be difficult to put aside ingrained habit and reflex. Thankfully I am not a Guardian or you may have no hope of restraint - they are created for the sole purpose of taking blows themselves. One more I am very pleased Little Brother remained away."

He was just about to ask if there was a way to identify these particular weapons when suddenly, Zalanth screamed. No, not just his bronze mottle, but all the dragons. All crying out, keening and screaming and hurting. Dimly he saw Jacien stagger almost to his knees, and Tide utterly fall to hers. But only dimly, as he felt his own sapphire-studded knee guards impact into the wet, muddy earth, wings flaring wide then drawing tight in an agonized clench and hands covering his ears, though it of course failed to block out a sound that ripped through his very being like a cruel sword.

"Zalanth! Zalanth!" he screamed, but over the noise of the dragons his voice was barely audible.

They went Between, the dragon was wailing over and over. They're dead, dead! Riders and dragons, dead!

Over the thundering of his heart and the racing of his blood, Keldos faintly heard the question Ariadne asked, and Jacien's response: "Nine."

Nine.

Nine lives - no, eighteen, between dragons and rider more or less.

Eighteen that Keldos would ensure these wretches paid for, a thousandfold!

The Firstborn Archangel hauled himself to his feet with a grunt as Jacien began his spells. Keldos was familiar with many of them, in one form or another. The magical armor washed away without effect, as he was already armored as much as he was ever going to be, as did the courage. Like the holy warriors known as Paladins, Keldos has a supernatural courage that had always held him in good stead thus far (some of the Solarians believed that Keldos himself was the inspiration for the mortal champions to have such a boon). However the Protection and Bless spells he accepted without hesitation. He knew first hand from many other events that such spells were beyond useful, but also with Jacien having cast them allowed Keldos to reserve what little divine magics he had; Archangels were never meant to be the spell-slingers of the Solarians.

"I will take to the air," he spoke up, "and try to if not scout, then at least keep an eye out for any enemies that may approach." He hesitated only a moment, then spoke, much more quietly. "If - if the need is dire, I may be able to offer more help, Jacien. But in doing so, I risk not being able to return to Teragaia. At the least, I can bring one of my kind, a paramount healer, to our aid. I know she will come, and - " He paused once more, just a heartbeat, as a Song rang against his in the Chorus. "She has pledged her aid if it is needed. Others also stand by, though I have cautioned them to be wary against joining in, that the enemy has a powerful toxin against celestials." He gave the clearly-weary man what he hoped was an encouraging expression, of one commander to another. "We will not let them win the day, this I vow as Firstborn of all Solarians!" With that, Keldos spread his wings and with a single powerful beat flung himself into the rain-battered sky. His objective was to be between the accursed village and the heroes gathered to purge the corruption from it, too high for arrows but low enough to see. Though she longed to follow her Rider into glorious battle, Zalanth remained behind with the dragons in the defensive net, quietly rumbling to herself that any zombies or Withered Mask that crossed her reach would find her teeth avenging her fallen kindred, with all the fury of the heaven's blade!

(1031 words, Lists: Stones of Blue: Sapphire, Not from Eden - Toxic, Grab-Bag Challenge: Objective))
Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari.
Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Raferties
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Posted Image (Temporary icon until I can make a proper Ghulra for her)

Through the chatter and the rain and the dragons, Cobalt simply stood close to Jacien, waiting patiently for her orders. Some people might have been prone to fidget given the tense situation, or be jumpy. But just as it was in her race name, she had been forged for war, and this was as natural as breathing was to those who actually breathed. Simply assemble, wait for orders, execute those orders.

From what she could sort out of the talk, some were going to scout - this was good. Intel on delta targets (in Cobalt's mind, the Withered Mask leader or leaders were designated Alpha Target, their subordinates Beta Targets, the more powerful undead Gamma Targets, and all other enemies Delta targets and also those most likely encountered) was vital to winning any battle. Healers were being assigned, and special instruction given. All in order.

Then the screaming started.

Perhaps it was fortunate that Cobalt had yet to Impress. She was spared from what, to a creature with no previous experience to anything remotely close to that degree of anguish and grief, might have been shattering. Granted, she felt a pulse of distress from Phiarlan back at Haven Village that was fairly sharp. She inferred from the others reactions and words that a lot of dragons had just died. A part of her even took a moment to mourn for their end, though it was perhaps far less emotional than some might have been. Such simply wasn't part of a Warforged's outlook.

This was battle. Warriors died. She would respond in the manner she had always responded to ally deaths: by honoring their sacrifice with the defeat of the enemy.

She brought her attention around to Jacien as he spoke of the bridge and Ariadne spoke of the need for a distraction.

"I will help take the bridge," she spoke up perhaps a touch hesitantly - not balking at the thought of a fight, but more unused to making up her own orders in these cases; she was much more accustomed to receiving them than creating them - even as she spells washed over her. Mage Armor was negated with her composite plating much like armor of its own, while the others took effect solidly. As they began moving out, she let a single chain fall a foot slack into her grasp. Her other hand closed into a tight fist. Experience against the undead armies of Kharrnath had taught her well that while zombies were susceptible to her spiked chain, skeletons were more devastated by her adamantine fist. And she was well-trained to use both at a moment's notice.

They didn't call them 'Warforged' for nothing.
Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari.
Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Belial
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Team Front Lines

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Cain

It was Alianna who locked step with the skeleton on the way down the hill, leading the way for the others. Jacien was the senior, but she was the field commander -- the duties of a paladin, versus the high priest.

"For this group here at the bridge, you don't have to wait," she explained, drawing her bastard sword and spinning it expertly in hand, preparing to charge. "Right now, we just need to make some noise."

And with that, the Knight Commander of the Silver Shroud barreled down the hill like a rampaging lunatic, or perhaps like a dwarven berserker, a battlecry harsh and loud splitting the liquid crush of rain and the sounds of tortured undead further in the village.

She trusted Cain had better aim than to shoot her by mistake.

Keldos

Too bad the archangel hadn't had the chance to ask which weapons carried the celestial-bane enchantments. That would have been helpful information to have.

As it stood, however, Jacien just shook his head. "No stupid risks. They've been perfecting this for longer than most sapient life has existed."

His way of saying, 'Take care, please don't get hurt unnecessarily.'

But sentimentality died faster in the Silver Shroud than even the membership did, and so it was that Jacien's well-wishing came across as terse, bleak, and abrupt. Maybe even rude.

Keldos took to the air to scout, and it was not a pretty picture. The rain itself was a visual hindrance, cutting off the archangel's view after only a few yards. The other thing blocking his view was the smoke.

Many houses in the village were burning, had been before the rain started, and the rain was just making the fires smokier as once-flammable things now struggled to keep burning in the damp.

Overall, though, Keldos saw plenty of the ordinary, average undead scattered throughout the village, some scuttling towards the group on the bridge now that there was noise and action to draw attention. On another low sweep, he could see Shrayla teaching Linah how to plant a proper trap with tripwires and alchemist's fire.

It was on a turn over a suspiciously quiet corner of Blackthorn that Keldos would find himself alone...and in sudden trouble.

A shadow detached from a burning building. It was hard to see in the smoke, in the rain, so much so one could say that Keldos probably couldn't see much of it at all, given it was the same color as the night and the grit in the air.

A turn to see if he was being followed revealed nothing, however. The air was as clear as it was going to get, nothing was on the ground underneath him.

Then something gritty, damp, and clumpy smashed into the archangel's back, like being hit by a spout of wet sand that burrowed stubbornly into the feathers of all six wings and started grinding at the quills to sand them off.

The Ash Wraith was not at its finest, out in the rain, but it was determined to do -something- useful.

Cobalt

She might have recognized Jacien as the General Authority of the Silver Shroud, but taking the bridge was Alianna's command.

Jacien fell in behind Cobalt and Alianna both, watching them work, watching them make a lot of noise and fuss and scatter pieces of zombie here and stray skeleton bones there.

The Warforged was probably finding the bridge fight less of a challenge than most, considering no organic need for things like oxygen or blood or stamina. At least for now. She was quite effective at knocking down the initial welcoming party, and at attracting attention.

More zombies and skeletons were on their way to the bridge from other parts of the village.

More zombies headed your way! By the Egg, one of them's FAST! Bridge team! Bridge team! MAYDAY BRIDGE TEAM!

If at first it seemed as though Myth was being overly dramatic, well.

That perception was corrected in the space of a single organic heartbeat, not that Cobalt would have had that frame of reference for the space between Myth's warning and the collision that impacted the Warforged midway, between attacks on the weaker zombies and skeletons.

A fresher corpse with foot-long razors tipping each finger pulled her hand free from Cobalt's softer pieces, not the metal plating that made her strong, but the leather and wood that held her together.

She'd probably been a villager once, the Zombie Hunter, but now she was a weapon of mass destruction.

In another instant the dead villager was gone and Jacien was grunting with discomfort, blades of the Hunter's hand buried deeply in his gut. He repaid her by smashing her in the face with his Gatekey, but some damage had already been done.

How best to kill something that moved faster than the mortal eye can track?


Team Healing and Covert Operations
AKA Tide and Company

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Miralet watched the dragonriders all crumple with the same desperate detachment-not-detachment she felt watching the village below and knowing everyone was dead and she'd been able to do nothing to stop it.

"That's a strong lass," she murmured, patting Tide's back as the taller woman rallied from beneath the crush of pain and sudden grief. "Take that anguish, that anger, channel it. Let it galvanize you for the path ahead, for this is where things get...tricky."

V'laryn was a good man, Sehanine mused, disapproval ripe in her tone. They all were, but V'laryn -- rider of green Isandorath -- is, or was, responsible for the upkeep of Haven's orphanage. Tell us how this can be avenged, for nothing can make this right.

"I'm afraid we'll have to start smaller than that," Miralet told the Rose Gryphon, tone endlessly tired. "We need eyes. And we should probably ready a defensive, a few traps of our own. Myune's patience, we'll need an infirmary to treat the wounded...if we have any wounded."

Your high priest is already a casualty. Not a fatality, though the dragons would have told you that.

"Oh, bloody wonderful. Please tell me he at least has both of his legs."

He does.

"Good. Then he's not hurt." Miralet rolled her eyes around to Tide's direction. "Make him tell you about the bone flute, if you both survive this. It's an exciting story. Almost as exciting as tonight. Now! Pardoning our Gryphon friends their lack of thumbs, do you have much experience building shelters?"

Team Suckerpunch

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"Easy, not so fast." Shrayla's hand shot out and dragged Linah back into the shadows against a half-collapsed house, the flames that had gutted the structure sputtering their last in the torrential rain. Several zombies fumbled clumsily by, rushing toward the commotion at the bridge.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me." Shrayla dug through her pack for the bag of holding with Tricks'n'Traps stitched haphazardly into the hem, and began pulling out the spikes, wires, and flasks that went into the traps she knew how to build. "These vials? Alchemist's fire. Burns when it touches air, so we rig the trap to fling the vials at the poor stupid fool that doesn't check his footing."

"Just show me what to do."

Shrayla found that Linah was a quick study, and it wasn't long before she had the taller woman who smelled of storms and alcohol (she said she had a tavern, though, so that might have had something to do with it) placing competent tripwires.

Spike traps, fire traps. Holy water traps, too, though Shrayla wasn't sure how much good they were going to do against undead raised by such... dedicated professionals. Powerful undead liked to ward themselves against holy things, so she knew it was possible. It just sounded like the Withered Mask had too much time on their hands and too many creative thinkers solving the solutions to the necromancer problems everyone else liked to get rid of as thoroughly as possible.

While the attack team kept the bulk of the immediate attention on the bridge, Shrayla and Linah split ways, aiming to trap more ground apart than they could together.

Of course, that meant neither of them could help the attack team when it became apparent that the plan to cause a commotion had worked a little too well, but hopefully they'd be able to turn Blackthorn into a deathtrap for when the real action started.

Team Patrol and Blockade

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North road making contact, came Matalth's confident and utterly bronze voice.

Zalanth was one of the few in the north road perimeter team that didn't stink of firestone, being a Mottle and pre-equipped with a breath weapon that needed no fuel to maintain. The sounds of the pedigree Pernese dragons chewing rocks could be heard over the hissing roar of the rain, and still all that noise didn't quite manage to drown out the thumping booms of approaching footsteps.

The group of zombies and skeleton archers that converged on the north road had brought reinforcements.

One of those reinforcements was a fifteen-foot-tall mass of tree-trunk-solid condensed flesh with three legs -- one sticking awkwardly sideways out of its misshapen hips -- four arms, three heads, and the approximate physical mass of a...

Well. The approximate physical mass of an old oak tree, just as solid and reinforced and utterly impregnable just to look at, more than five feet wide and obviously reinforced with things not indigenous to the human body, things like metal plates and wooden boards and metal bands and what might have been a boulder lodged in its chest like some kind of primitive breastplate.

Border team DOWN!

And the intonation of that was unmistakably a command, not a status update, and Matalth ducked, leading by example and hitting the dirt in time for a copper-backed Green Mottle to swoop over the perimeter team and spray a wash of bright green acid at the approaching zombies.

Two of the skeleton archers dissolved. One of the zombies fell apart, not destroyed, but crippled as acid separated upper body from lower.

The Zombie Goliath, however, shrugged off Anaeth's breath as if she'd merely sneezed on it.

Even the perimeter team had some work cut out for them.




Finally, some action! And hey, nobody's really dead this round! Although it's kind of a close thing with Jacien right now and oh he's not going to like this adventure. ^^

◘ You have your tasks! Kick some ass or build something. Also, I bolded the names of the special undead you've just met so you can easily identify them and refer back to the Libris Mortis for tactical information.

◘ No real powerplaying was intended, for those of you who found your characters at least vaguely narrated (that's mostly you, Kay). Just an extension of tasks y'all said you were going for. And some company. Sorry, Kay. On the bright side, Keldos didn't find a slag heap to play with.

Yet.

◘ Those characters with dragons may actually have their Mottle dragons (Pern lore still states Pernese dragons can't operate without riders, so only the Mottles get to be unmanned and independent) join the border fracas. North road's gonna be a little exciting soon. The east road actually isn't covered so well, but there's also a Childer there, so tread carefully.

◘ ADVENTURE IS STILL OPEN! Am not closing this, and though catching up may be tricky, it can be done. Much can also be done via PM if you want your characters informed en route, so to speak, because Iyenath is still directing traffic out there somewhere and trying to drum up help. I say this both to players who have not joined and to players who have characters who haven't joined. Although being short-handed does feed into the general sense of desperation, I guess...

◘ Pictures are still just for flavor. Hopefully a little more varied flavor this time!

◘ Also, you may notice a name change! Alianna was the paladin's original name, but she became Ariadne in the space of this adventure because Heron had a brain fart. Don't mind me, I'm just fixing my spelling errors... -whistles-
Edited by Belial, Sep 23 2016, 10:04 AM.
"Life is not about what you deserve. Life is about free will, life is about what you choose. Afterlife is about what you deserve, and all the Heavens forfend you deserve me." --Belial

"Redemption is a work in progress. I've...got a lot of work left to do." --Shrayla

"Fair winds and good fortune to you, friend." --Khareesh

"I think you have me mistaken for someone penitent, and I don't appreciate it." --Melonwei

"If someone rains on your parade, start dancing in the rain." --Linah

"The rules of the Lord of Poetic Justice are very simple. You do unto others as you would have me do unto you, aye?" -- Aletha Hoarfrost

"War's the candy, I'm just the wrapper, but that doesn't make me ready to die any time soon." --Arieh Harel
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Tidesweep
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"Noise? I think I got that covered for the most part." Though Cain had to admit that if he had still been alive and on the other side of that battle cry he would have probably been running the opposite direction faster than one can say onomatopoeia. Something about a woman that ran and yell at him with a sword just made him not want to face her. Maybe it came from the fact that he grew up believing that women were weak and docile (which was a funny joke considering how Cain had first died) and that they needed to be protected.

Yada yada.

Luckily he had grew out of most of those habits, but every now and then they still found ways to try and wiggle back in. Not that he let them. Last thing he needed was to get chewed out by someone like Alianna or worst, Anari for something carelessly said.

Besides, some of the bravest people he knew were women.

Taking careful aim, he shot at the gathering at the bridge, keeping Alianna well out of his sight. He was aiming for the head on the skeletons and the head and hearts on anything else. Something had to give there eventually was his thought, so why not go for mortal wounds on a normal living person.

"I would almost say save some for the rest of us, but I feel like that is just asking for trouble." Cain reloaded and went back to firing, moving ever slowly towards the bridge. He was best at a range. He knew that. Hence why he wasn't going to get any closer than he had too.

Though that change a bit when he saw Jacien go down. Moving quickly, he moved to the other's side and provided some cover. "What was that thing? No. On second thought. Don't want to know. Anyone got a shovel handy?"

He was only half joking. Things that moved faster than the human eye was something he had some experienced with. Usually holes were their downfall...Well, well concealed holes anyway. All that speed meant nothing when one tripped over something or fell. Sadly, it would take more time to dig a hole than they probably had.

Cain still tried to track the thing though. Even if to keep it off the more vulnerable members of the party. Worst it could do after all was turn his bones to dust and judging by the scattering of skeleton parts...that wouldn't be too much of an issue.

Tide

Tide gave Miralet a blank stare as the other woman said that Jacien wasn't hurt cause he still had two legs. "You...You have a weird definition of not hurt. Not that I am gonna question it really..." Just like she was gonna gloss of the fact that she had if they had wounded. Not when. Not even how many. Just...If.

That was rarely, if ever, a good sign.

No offense taken. Lacking thumbs can be a problem at times.

Thinking over the question for a moment, Tide shook her head. "I have little to no experience in that regard. But I can hold a hammer or tie some string..." Her voice took on a quiet tone. That determination she had before slowly faded out as the worry that she might not be useful wiggled its way into her head.

This is not a place for doubts Tide. The reminder was quiet, but it was enough to break Tide out of the downward spiral.

"I may not have experience, but I am a fairly quick learner under pressure."

She just hope it was quick enough.
"Death has a bone to pick with you and I'm here to help out." -Cain Skelington

"The waves have their own music...Are you listening?" - Tidesweep

"Don't take my silence for agreement. That would be a mistake."- Gertude Weavian

"I will protect what is mine with a will forged like a diamond."- Mildred Fresi

"Healing can take time. Lucky for you, you should having nothing but it for awhile."- Jeremi Kgute
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Some might have been offended by Jacien's curtness, but not Keldos. He got it. He was a soldier himself, and the meaning behind the words rang true.

"Understood." With that Keldos was airborne, battling the wind and the rain for space in the air. He typically only used his primary wings to fly, but given the weather he spread all six of them, each beating in synchronicity with the others so that to those on the ground it might look like he only had a single, massive pair of feathered appendages. Cern, meanwhile, would remain on the ground with the bridge team. He was somewhat more unaccustomed to inclement-weather flight, and besides knew he would serve the cause better where he could put his greatsword to use.

From the Archangel's vantage point he saw the burning homes and the destruction, the hordes of undead moving in the streets and the overall display of death and despair. The smoke stung his eyes and threatened to smother his lungs, but the winds that made him have to struggle so in the air provided enough pockets of breath that he found it tolerable, if not pleasant. Good thing too, since going into a wing-sputter mid-air from choking was never beneficial, doubly-so when enemies swarmed below.

And came from above, seemingly!

The Archangel grunted in surprise and fell a couple of yards down when the ash wraith impacted, catching him by surprise. His mind momentarily flashed to the flame-wracked building, the shadows that had unnerved him, his warrior's training and instincts telling him that something was wrong even when his eyes couldn't discern what that something was. Clearly, now, he knew.

Glancing over his shoulder he just barely saw the creature that was currently 'seated' upon his back, looking little more than a shifting mass of sodden ashes. Perhaps 'plastered' would be a better word, as it had slammed its body, as it were, right onto the base of the celestial's six wings and spattered out from there across the feathers. This alone was scarcely enough to dissuade Keldos for his course; he had been in battle many, many times before, and it had happened that a winged fiend had thought to try and land on him like this to knock him from the air, or had targeted his unarmored and seemingly vulnerable wings. Each and every time they found the maneuver less than effective, as his wings were very powerful and his aerial skill considerable.

The grinding sensation that followed was new, however, and rather unpleasant! Keldos flinched in spite of himself - he hated giving away to an enemy that he had been affected by what they did to him - and for a moment went into a wild, seemingly uncontrolled and erratic flightpath. He flipped and spun in the rain-clogged air, jerked left and right and up and down, trying to dislodge his unwanted passenger. The Ash Wraith wasn't having any of it, however, as it stuck to him like some sort of IF-backed glue. Although it was hindered in the rain and its attack was perhaps not as effective as it would've liked, a few of the smaller feathers that covered the base of his wings came free with a stinging sensation, poofing into golden dust in the air. He drew his greatsword, considering slashing backwards blindly to try and hit it, but reconsidering the attempt, knowing that the thing was immune to radiant powers as well as physical damage - both of which were the Archangel's primary attacks - on top of the angle being too poor for him to safely attempt such. He was just as likely to slash his own wings as his foe, and though the wound would heal relatively quickly it would still hurt and possibly force a bad landing.

A few more feathers broke free, and by now the constant rubbing of the grit over his wings was scouring and stinging the flesh beneath the plumage. At least he didn't feel the near-acidic burn of fiend-damage, telling him that the feathers would regrow in a day or so and the skin mend well enough, and that this wasn't likely the angel-destroying weaponry he had been warned about. (self note: find Jacien and ask exactly what such weaponry looked like or how to otherwise identify it)

More wild flight failed to do anything but wear on his water-sodden wings and though it did spatter a few globs of the wraith away, it was hardly enough to even slow the thing down. In a moment of near-desperation, Keldos flew down at a high speed right towards a tree, twisting at the last possible moment to scrape his wings and back against the branches. More bits were pulled away from the wraith, as were more feathers and Keldos felt a sharp limb tear a gash in his right secondary, making it snap folded on reflex.

"Will you just let go?!" he shouted, more than a little enraged at the sheer tenacity of his opponent, then gave up on dealing with this himself and make for the bridge, drawing his sword as he went. He could see that while everyone was handling themselves fairly well - Cern in particular was swinging his blade in wide arcs that decimated the undead menace in threes and fours, and physically hurling those that got too close away and even battering at them with his wings - some new, very fast opponent had taken the field and had first lashed into Cobalt, then Jacien with fearsome abandon. It seemed to be here, there, and everywhere within the blink of an eye. Were Keldos not angelic, he probably wouldn't have been able to even try and spot it out, but thankfully for Solarian vision he could at least track it, follow its course a bit better than the others.

Cobalt meanwhile was making her move, and that thing was still on his back! But he knew he had to help those on the bridge; they clearly were out-matched by that Hunter. He'd only have one shot, really, so he knew he had to make it count! He reared back his sword, and dove.

(Cobalt)
As the battle on the bridge was progressing, Cobalt found herself falling back into the almost instinctive rhythm of war. She ignored the rain that failed to chill her, the mud that spattered her and made her look more lapiz lazuli than cobalt, the sounds of the undead massing all around. Her right fist slammed into any enemy that came too close to her, her left chain lashing out and opening gashes where it struck, or tangling around limbs to create openings, or ensnaring legs to make does stumble and trip whet her ales could finish them.

Cobalt, if anything, was a tactical fighter, if a silent one. While others might give voice to the combat with battlecries the performed gave no such utterances save for the occasional burnt from a particularly powerful blow.

The sudden explosion of pain came barely a second after Myth's call. Cobalt bit back a cry, more from the surprise than what she supposed was 'pain,' taking note of the wound.

Right side, leather torn, wood cracked. Status of injury... serious but not debilitating. Further such will cause hindrances, and risk inert status. That, above all else, she could not risk, but without knowing there was someone on Teragaia who could repair her....

But the Zombie Hunter was already gone before Cobalt could retaliate, striking her current Commander. Though her face was incapable of showing it, a dark, dangerous scowl lit her eyes.

Cobalt took a deep breath that her body didn't need and roared, a terrible bellow that on Eberron oftentimes staggered men in surprise and terror, then rushed towards the Hunter, taking a swing that was easily dodged by the swift undead. But the goal hadn't been damage - by forcing the thing to move, it gave Jacien breathing space. The Warforged took up a defensive position in front of her Commander, one chain spinning in a warning hum. She couldn't tell how damaged the Silver Shroud man was, but if need be she thought she could manage to take a blow or two for him.

That was when Keldos struck, surprising even her!

(Keldos)

The Archangel Firstborn was the epitome Templar, honorable and just.

But that didn't mean he didn't have to avoid taking advantages when he spotted them!

He saw the Hunter rearing back for another pass, possibly at Jacien. He saw Cobalt getting in the way, not that it was likely to do much good against something the warforged couldn't even see excect for those brief moments when it was motionless between blows. But Keldos could, and he thought he knew a way to maybe hinder it.

Folding all six wings he shot down like a hunting falcon, greatsword leading the way even as he led the blow to where he believed she would be, after watching the Zombie Hunter move and seeing her tense for the next lunge. With a little fortune on his side his fly-by would collide with her position, sword first, but success or failure he wouldn't stick around to find out. Maneuverability was his greatest ally for the moment, so he would swoop and dive, taking slashing strikes as he neared the ground and only sparing a moment to call out as he rose again:

"Jacien! How do I get this thing off of me!"

Perhaps he wouldn't have been quite so bold to take the sweeping strike had he known that the Zombie Hunter's claws were the poison-like weapons Jacien had warned about. But then again, Keldos was Keldos - likely he would have anyhow!

((1544 words - Grab Bag - Ashes, Stones of Blue - Lapiz Lazuli, Out of Eden - Poison. Also, I'm pressed for time at the moment so I'll add Zalanth's part later on.))

(Zalanth)
While the purebloods prepared, Zalanth flew figure eights in the air, watching for approach and growling softly to herself. The bronze mottle chafed at being held back. Everything with her wanted to swoop down upon the bridge and rain down holy fury upon the undead, bid her take to the field. And how much more that urge became when she sensed her Rider in peril! But even as she thought to rush to his aid, a sharp mental 'Hold position!" from Keldos himself checked her forward movement. She trusted her Rider, knew he understood his own capabilities and would call for her if indeed he needed the draconic back-up, but this was her Rider! He was being hurt, needed her... and she had to remain where she was.

Boarder Team DOWN!

Zalanth acted more on reflex than conscious thought, wings folding and simply dropping the forty or so feet down to land on the ground, head ducking as well so the spray went over her. She bared her teeth at the approaching enemies, watching with a grim satisfaction as two melted and another crumpled. She was preparing to lunge forward, deciding to remain on the ground for now and simply step on any undead that got too close, when she spied the Zombie Goliath. For a split second, she froze in abject terror at the sight, and at the ripping in her heart of how many lives were sacrificed to construct that abomination! Then her righteous zeal came back to the fore, and she took a deep breath.

Creatures of vile construction, she challenged in a mindvoice like thunder, be gone from this place! With that mighty call, she unleashed her own breath weapon, right at the giant conglomeration of undead beings. Not fire, nor acid not even lightning her breath, but as if from her Archangel's god himself a beam of brilliant Sunlight, the bane of many undead beings. Perhaps it would have effect? Perhaps she would just tick it off.

Either would be just fine with her!
Edited by Raferties, Oct 8 2016, 12:06 PM.
Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari.
Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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