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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 4, 2018 11:04:32 GMT -8
"I can't say fortune ever minded me being married, oho." Tilly wrung her grimy hands and cackled vilely, "Mmmho yes, yes, she knows just how to make my toes curl. I just wish she'd look me, once, deep and soft in the eeeyees..."
She quickly swiped off another few leaves of cabbage and distributed all but one swiftly to Courcy, with a brief, lest she burn herself, pat on her shoulder with the palm of her glove.
Tilly rose another cabbage leaf and gave it an enticing jiggle at Beatrix to coax her further,
"Come to dinner, girl. You've always a seat at the table." She looked to Rania and waved to her, leaf in hand, as she called, "Stay safe and close, now! And be back soon!"
She sighed, seemingly content, and made to sit on her rump, knee bent, where she rested her arm and continued to lazily waggle the cabbage at Beatrix.
"How'd you know I had portals on the brain?" She righted her hat on her head and flashed a smile,
"I've been digging a portal this entire time with just my own two hands... I'd like to disappear, wouldn't you? Ohhh, but I won't toss my hat 'til I'm on the other side." She was grinning, and she eyed each person sitting around the cabbage, one after the other.
"In the Warrens, juuuust at the edge of the whole thing. I've been digging a tunnel that'll go right under those guards' noses. Nobody's noticed a thing. But I'll die of old age before I finish, 'less some of you want to help me with the digging?"
She stopped waggling the cabbage.
"Who wants in?"
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Post by relentless on Mar 4, 2018 11:16:48 GMT -8
Libourg looked around as new company started to come, and go. At least with Ariana anyway. He looked down at the bag of bones, grimacing in confusion before raising his head to watch Ariana go, then toward the others. As such, he hoisted the rabbit up, holding it by its underbelly now, as if the rabbit were Simba from Lion King. He would direct his attention to Tilly's plan, a rather odd and long term plan at that. Surely there was another way out? A much quicker way to escape from this hell.
"...A tunnel? We're not moles, Tilly, we can't just dig that far like that, not with a limited supply of shovels, and especially not with our hands."
Libourg gave his piece of criticism toward her plan, scrunching his brow before scoffing.
"Unless you plan to wrangle some of those Carrion Worms and get them to dig?"
He joked, a bit snarkily as he shook his head. If its a way to get out, it's a way to get out.
"I'll help, but what if that tunnel gets overtaken by those bloody thralls? You know how much they skitter around on their two, four... or eight legs!"
Libourg stated with a mild rant at the end, before he shook his head. With a light toss, he threw the rabbit into the center of the group, the bunny flopping and hitting the ground with a muffled thud. It's gums were drawn and bloodied teeth were shown, as if it were biting on something.
"If you guys are hungry, then you can share some of that."
Libourg promoted the prospect, looking down at Courcy as he turned his body to leave.
"Guess you can save us some firewood and cook that rabbit, yeah?"
Libourg suggested with a flash of a smile, before turning around and making his way toward the other end of the lake, away from Ariana and generally secluded from the others.
//The Lake//
It was a decent sized area of water, a tinge of murky blue with dirt murking about at the bottom. Roots from the recovering trees seemed to plunge themselves into the depths of the lake, but not by much since it was rather shallow.
It would be quite chilly to skin, but nonetheless refreshing. Though it wouldn't be the best idea to drink from it straight however...
//Perimeter//
Shadowy, mist corroded pathways that led out from the camp led into the uncertain unknown. It was hard to discern anything from the camps position, at least anything at a medium distance away. Shadows seemed to move slowly, a collection black silhouette moving across the canvas of grey mist, though it was hard to tell whether it was human, or eldritch abomination. All that could be heard was the whistling of the wind, a partial hum on the horizon, and a distant droplet of liquid.
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Post by Unter on Mar 4, 2018 11:31:09 GMT -8
Francois was maintaining his equipment. As one of the Camp's guard, his sword had to be in top shape at every time. The sound of the sharpening stone gliding along the edge of his blade was soothing, and the focus needed for the tasks helped him ignore more... pressing concern. He sat on a bunch of crates at the edge of the fire camp. His eyes followed the motion of the stone, and he hummed a religious tone. Everyone was taking the situation differently : Some freaked out, some were eating moths and sayed they tasted like peaches, and some tried to stay true to their beliefs. Francois was of the latter. If he stayed true to the Light, he would survive and see this Evil defeated. It wouldn't be easy however.
But for this time, there was only his blade, and only the motion of the sharpening. He would be ready.
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Post by azmoham on Mar 4, 2018 11:39:45 GMT -8
Beatrix snorted at the proffered leaf but stepped forward just close enough to take it from the madwoman’s hand nonetheless. She pushed the greenery into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, her thin eyebrows shooting up at the description of an escape. She eyed Tilly as the plan was elucidated further; the knight made a good point, there were too many of those beasts about to get any work done, not that Beatrix would be much help anyway with only one hand...But still, an attempt would be better than simply accepting their inevitable deaths right? It’d provide a goal at the very least, something to focus her mind on outside of their grim circumstances. She shook her head, a small sigh escaping her cracked lips as she considered the prospect.
“If they came while we dug, we’d all die.”
She said simply.
“Guards are needed, but we hardly have any as it is, let alone enough to spare watching some hole.”
They’d have to find another way, some gap in the line. She’d never seen it, only heard stories of the great masses of men gathered at the border, their flung-up defenses and clinking armor the last bastion against the dark. She took a few steps backwards again, turning profile to the group to turn her head and stare intently into the fog which hung like a mortician's sheet over the scarred landscape. One thing was clear however, whether through a hole in the ground or a gap in the line, they had to escape, or else accept their deaths. Shapes stirred murkily in the grey expanse and she brought her flesh hand up to rub at her eyes, before she resumed her study of the fog.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 4, 2018 13:34:57 GMT -8
“A tunnel........in the warrens no less. Well, you have the swarm as a constant threat no matter when you dig, and without anyone like me you’ll never know if something worse has your scent. You already have problems with being by yourself yet you’ll have more if you decide to bring a bigger group out which will easily draw attention. The camp anyway doesn’t have enough people to spare, and unless you have a way to collapse the tunnel you’ll just be making a path for everything to leave, escape, grow, and spread. Great idea in concept, you already have something done too, but what can you do if it fails? Or as I said before, if it succeeds, what can you do to collapse it?” Nasuris piped in, going off like a checklist one after another, the concept interesting enough to snap her out of the little delirium she was in.
Then more souls came to venture, a crippled woman with a warriors vibe about her, then the flaming Courcy who silent sat down beside Tilly and went about her buisiness like nobody was there except Tilly. She spied Ariana, Francois, off doing their own things as per usual, wondering if they would join them as well or continue doing their daily routines. Nasuris scooted back a bit to both give some room and to isolate herself just a little, feeling just the tiniest bit claustrophobic.
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Post by black379 on Mar 4, 2018 15:31:54 GMT -8
It was all quite a rabble for Courcy's awakening mind. Too much was happening between the bits of food being distributed, the chatter of escape, the people coming and going almost without sense. The sudden appearance of Ariana, looking exactly like she had spent two days wading through eldritch gore, and her eager departure helped stir Courcy from her sleepiness. She considered trotting along after her, to laze in the lake, but refocused on the group as she was given the bunch of cabbage leaves.
"Thanks..." Her reply was a tweaked smirk as she palmed the greens. Courcy bent down to retrieve the discarded rabbit and hold it in the crook of her arm. Meanwhile listening to the others offer their criticism to Tilly's rather outlandish plan.
"You know I'm in." True enough the risks were severe, but the alternative was fending off limitless monsters for as long as they could. "Can't let you die on your lonesome, can I? You have a knife?" She nudged her elbow at Tilly, and nodded to the dead hare.
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Post by Kidney on Mar 4, 2018 15:41:33 GMT -8
A continuation of the cycle, and the flood of boredom. So continued the spinning of the blade that Roard carried. He had created similar holes around himself, creating a small perimeter of circles, a little piece of vital art in this place. His own eyes peered within the dark pits around his massive feet, and with a huff, he took a step back and rose his blade high.
There was a heavy cutting of air, his blade smashing into the center of this perimeter, digging in a good ways, standing on its own when Roard left it near the crates. The Caretaker was most surprised at this, his yelp from the driving of the blade as well as his awe at the fact that Roard abandoned the place he normally sat entire days and nights guarding.With a cough, and a reach, he attempted to stifle the movement of the bronze giant. He was unsuccessful.
What The Caretaker failed to notice was where the plague-ridden man happened to moving towards. His eyes locked on a man slowly walking towards cursed waters. The bronze man tailed this other humanoid, following him as walked towards a far end of the camp, near the opposite side of the lake. Or so Roard took it. His eyes were not as good as they had been. He got closer after the man stopped, letting off a wave before starting a conversation.
"Libourg. Any news on the border?"
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Post by relentless on Mar 4, 2018 20:00:27 GMT -8
Libourg was already over halfway to the other side of the large pond before Roard had called him out. The knight in dirty blueish steel plate armour stopped dead in his tracks, and turned 90 degrees, head looking back. His shield upon his back blocked his line of sight, so he had to turn a bit more.
"Ah, hello Roard! Come! Sit with me."
Libourg encouraged, a bit reluctant in his choice, since he was inviting a plague ridden war machine over for chit chat. With a few more steps, Libourg positioned himself just over a medium sized, wet rock. With a squat down, he set his rump upon the rock with a related sigh, dropping his klappvisier onto the ground without a care, following with the shield as well onto the wet pebbles and dirt congealing together.
"... A few packs loom closer every day it seems. It's as if they can smell us, but never have the drive to press on."
Libourg began with a very bitter snap, unclipping his sword holster, resting it on his lap. His eyes closed briefly, and he shook his head.
"I didn't want to say anything to the others, they've already gone through hell and backwater. Just know that we may have to move again soon. I don't know where, I don't know how.'
Libourg finished, unsheathing his sword and throwing the leather holster with a mild temper onto his shield. His hands lazily grabbed at the bottom of the grip, wobbling the blade in and out of the shallow end of the pond.
"I saw some of the... others as well."
He gulped, choking on his words, before closing his eyes tight.
"We can't... I can't let that happen to them. Or you."
Libourg reaffirmed shakily, eyelids fluttering with a light moisture forming over them. He just kept on wobbling his sword, the metal patting at the surface.
//The perimeter//
The siloutte seemed to sway from side to side, it's general colour blurred from how far it was, along with the mist obscuring it. The shape wouldn't change, nor would it be daunting obvious that it was drawing closer. All that could be heard were the whistles of the wind, the flowing of grass, the hum of what seemed to be a bird, or something alive, and to top it off; a drip and drop on occasion of some unknown liquid in the bushes somewhere.
Perhaps it was starting to rain, perhaps it was a good bit of sap draping from the tree.
Either way, it sounded almost peaceful, this combination of sounds. But the only thing that remained unnerving was the silhouette. On occasion, different sprouts of black seemed to appear and disappear, as if floating in and out of water.
//The Caretaker//
He cackle as Roard dug his hole, bemusing him, though his own sense of paranoia seemed to draw itself somewhere else. The mans frail, and old eyes looked onward toward the north of the pond where Arianna was moving. His grin never ceased as it always had been, but his eyes were squinted, searching.
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Post by Kidney on Mar 4, 2018 20:23:22 GMT -8
Roard seemed oddly unmoved by the speech. His eyes searched Libourg's face, for something else other than sorrow. He moved with less speed than he expected, falling onto a smaller rock beside his, forcing him lower than Libourg's level. He sat for a few moments, contemplating, and watching the infernal waters. His own body iched with dirt and grime, but he forced himself to not come near the water. His own strange density would condemn him to the depths, no matter the way he formed a stroke to stay afloat.
He pulled forth bandages, his basic ones, forged of dusty rags and strips of white cloth from the age-old tablecloths of the tavern, or the spaces not clotted with blood from the nun's robes. He slowly began to wrap the exposed spaces on his right hand, wrapping with various amounts of force and speed. He looked back at the man named Libourg, and sighed. "I fear the day I will no longer be able to haul the supplies, Libourg. The oils from my hands may one day sicken you, or another of my friends. "
He thought again, creating a stabilizing mitten around his hand, creaking it into a rough shape, allowing for grip of his mighty blade. He tested it, and the hand moved. He was satisfied. Again, he gave himself permission to speak, "I will give my life to protect them from the fate of the horde. I expect the rest of us to do the same. We have seen the depths of the Darkest Dungeon. We are the last."
He spoke of this with less emotion than he had before. The man Libourg once knew was still there, if hardened by time. But then, he brought up his massive hand, and patted his friend on the back. He rubbed this place, with a white hand, one without plague. He attempted to keep it brief, but he couldn't stop himself. "We became the last because we were stronger than the rest. We will continue to be strong, I promise. And as long as I still carry my weight upon my legs, I will protect this place, and I will protect you if you shall fall by my side."
He looked upon his friend again, straight on. "These are the people not covered in maddening disease," he gestured over to the camp again, and the people within, "you and them should remain one. You should not walk onto these cursed shores and sit alone. But should you not be able to sharpen a blade within the camp, I will sit with you."
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Post by porkylabrador on Mar 5, 2018 1:16:57 GMT -8
She wasn't stupid and she wasn't precious or shy either. She never 'bathed' entirely nude and she never left earshot. Stripped down to just her woollen trousers, Rania shivered as she scooped handfuls of murky water from the shallowest edge of the lake onto her tarnished skin, slowly removing the layers of accumulated grime. Her gear and weapons were stacked neatly to her flank, certainly within grabbing distance. It was foolish to be unarmed in this dark place so the hatchet from her mother's homeland hung with surprising daintiness from a belt-loop on her trousers.
These were the hardest moments. The inactivity, the time to reflect. Was it too soon to go back out there? She'd just gotten back it was true. Could she be helpful is she wasn't volunteering herself for her one woman crusades? Most importantly when was she going to get a drink? The last question must've struck some chord in the instrument of her mind and with that dwelling the insatiable craving she'd tried so hard to repress surfaced like the Kraken within her stomach and spread tentacles of nausea through her body.
She didn't know when she'd fallen to her knees and started retching but it can't have lasted more than a few seconds. "Get it together you soft bitch or I will personally kick my arse." The unarmoured lass steadied her trembling limbs as the cold sweating and shaking subsided and so resigned herself to planting her posterior on the remains of some grass sullenly watching what was left of the world go by. She'd traded the smell of mutant offal for the tang of vomit. "Hey, things are looking up." She chuckled unhappily, hoping nobody in the camp proper had heard her little display.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 5, 2018 11:10:27 GMT -8
Tilly's eyes watched Nasuris, and she adopted a more hunched and brooding air, as though to mimic her, as well as her voice's tone and accent for good measure. Her blonde hair curtained in tangled--albeit half-heartedly combed with her fingers-- locks around her face.
"'Oh, no Tilly. That won't work, it's impossible.'"
She straighted up, expression easing int9 a smile.
"You just have to walk quietly-- tiptoe! I've been digging longer than we've been camping. I count three hundred-- three hundred paces to the end of this tunnel I've dug!"
Her two fingers mimicking the legs of a running person,
"I need only runners to carry out the soil and to bring back wood. One person can support the tunnel, and I'll do the digging with my shovel."
She continued, spreading out her hands as though to encompass the width of the tunnel,
"It is three feet wide, six feet tall all the way through. Enough to dodge nasties, if you're slippery enough. Though they'll really only find you if you're clumsy."
Her hands came back in, joining the fingers. She grinned at Courcy appreciaticely before continuing.
"The supports won't last; the wood will rot. We only need to cave it the very end of the tunnel when we exit, and I won't wait for anybody who didn't help dig the thing in the first place!"
Tilly waited, in conclusion, and then began again, "I am all knives." As she nodded quietly to Courcy, reached into a coat pocket, and gave her a throwing knife. It about as long as her hand, with a serrated edge.
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Post by azmoham on Mar 5, 2018 12:19:58 GMT -8
The plan was formed, but still too shaky for the older woman’s liking. Nothing well could be gained from sending so many of their own away from camp, they already scraped by and lived hand-to-mouth as it was, the loss of yet more manpower on a venture that was far from ensured sat ill with her.
“I don’t like it. Too much to lose.”
She nodded, her features arranging themselves into a stern frown as she squinted at the hard ground, and then back towards the wavering tides of mist that drifted past in the thin breeze.
“If the camp is attacked, how will it fare?”
She asked, turning her flinty eyes back on Tilly, meeting her gaze for a moment before slipping down to stare at the knife as it was passed from one hand to the other. Fingers touching cool steel, so sharp it could bite their fingers off. She subconsciously ran a finger along the sharp edge of her own tool, noticing with hidden pleasure how keen the knife felt.
“My vote is nay, unless the camp is moved close enough to keep watch over the hole, and vice versa.”
Though there was hardly a semblance of democracy about their hodgepodge arrangement of stragglers and lunatics, she liked to believe that her expression of malcontent could perhaps rouse others to the same. It seemed foolish to take some many strong hands from the camp to lend them to a likely death in some hole, or else away from the defense of the only thing bearing any likeness to a ‘home’ any of them had in the blasted landscape.
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Post by relentless on Mar 5, 2018 13:07:02 GMT -8
Libourg scoffed at the end after he ended his state of reassurance, shifting away partially, mainly out of discomfort from being touched by Roard in his horrific state of affairs. They were surrounded by creatures from hell, he'd rather not catch whatever he had. Shaking his head, he sighed, almost as a yawn.
"-No, the quiet is... refreshing. Provided you're not apart of 'the quiet' for too long. I can clean my blade, and think."
Libourg turned to face Roard, tapping his temple twice with one index finger, before his arm flopped down to rest on his thigh.
"Thinking, is what got me through the horrific gates of hell, where all I had were my allies, and my faith. Thinking, is why I'm still here."
He explained in a stern manner, resembling that of a teacher. Friendly, in a way, but serious in tone and voice. The knight turned to look away, sparing a passing glance at Ariana, before settling his eyes on the shimmering waters of the pond.
"Thinking, is what will get me out of here. I've done my duty here, and I believe its time for me to hang up the sword. Sure! Duels and what not are exciting, but I tire of all this... bullshit."
Libourg waved a dismissive hand at the entire camp, at the entire Weald in fact, before he scrunched up his face in mild rejection.
"I mean, look at this place. Will it be saved? Was there any point to this, or did we actually achieve... anything! Anything at all? People- Good people! Have died for that self righteous bastard. Courcy lost her lover, or so I've heard from 'rumors'. Tilly has been reduced to a mess, and a good amount of our friends have been lost to the hellspawn, starspawn whatever you want to call them... it's just..."
Libourg huffed in defeat after his rant, particularly glad they were somewhat out of earshot, or at the very least where the majority of the conversation couldn't of been heard. Pinching his the bridge of his nose, he exhaled sharply through his nose, before taking out his whetstone.
"It was all a waste of time. And now-"
He flicked his hand once more at the camp, before he struck his whetstone down the side of the blade; a spectacle of sparks following through, skittering across the surface of the pond.
"All these good hearts have paid the price for this Noble bastards mistakes."
Libourg snapped the last part, with zealousness apparent in his venom, before he continued to stroke the silver blade more calmly.
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Post by Kidney on Mar 5, 2018 13:49:04 GMT -8
A sinking feeling within his chest. A stone in his gut, and a rope pulling his lips towards an ever-fitting frown. Roard seemed defeated in this aspect, and as the warmth of another's body escaped from his bandaged hand, he sank. His head lowered, and he listened carefully. His ever-stinging eyes watered, the swollen orbs dripping black tears against Roard's face, joining his blackheads, his warts, his pustules. He stared again back at the soothing, cool, abyssal waters. His slits, where a nose once sat, took in the smell of mosses and greens, and he looked back at Libourg.
"I'm so very tired of carrying that hunk of steel around. And I hope that one day my words will be more powerful than it's horrific edge."
He spoke solemnly, and listened to the grating scrape of whetstone against blade, and looked again at the pond-lake-hellportal. A twitch struck him in the face, a sneer building. "I only went in once."
There was relief in talking about the times spent in the deep dark. His gut was still laden with the loot, but his heart was laden with guilt. "We struck down a beast, and in it's death throws, all I heard was it's scream. That scream. It clattered to the floor, and I can't ever forget the look it had on its face. It was alive. It's face was solidified in a grimace, it could understand pain. It's eye peered into my soul."
"We took that man's money. And none of us had to continue. We could have left. But it was our own zealous obligations that kept us coming back. We killed tortured pigs. We killed old women. We killed children. We killed the diseased, the old, the young, the angry, the alone." He punctuated each adjective with a tap on his bandages fingers, which to Libourg seemed to be a boxing glove.
"None of us ever had good hearts. When we arrived here, and took his money, and went into that damned abyss, we gave up our hearts. We gave them up to become one with the heart of the world. We left our souls to rot within those cyclopean chambers, and we never got them back."
He rose from the rock, staring upon Libourg. "My blade will rise and fall upon the hellspawn. But my hands, they will carry boxes of bread to the survivors. My fingers are wrapped around the handle of my edge, but it is not my own doing to strike down the assimilated populace I once cared for. The blade has a mind of its own. But I have mine. And with it, I will get that nobleman to safety. Blame him, blame Boris, blame Hook for all I care. He gave us drink and chips, the Monk gave you and I a place to pray. We have been here for so long, we don't even remember what life was like before we tore the muscles from bone. All of us played into the cycle, we all took part in this hellish game."
He took a step away from the other man, "Thinking got you here, yes, it very well may get you out. But do not say it was someone else's fault. We had a duty, yes, but none of us knew what we were doing. It was all our own accursed fault."
"We achieved nothing in that oppressive dark. But we can achieve something in the light. We can save people. And we can get Courcy out of this place. Maybe she will find love again. We can get Tilly out of here, before she breaks. And we get a good amount of our friends out of this Weald."
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Post by porkylabrador on Mar 5, 2018 15:04:46 GMT -8
"Fuck in an' around whatever hells you believe in." Ariana chuckled as she walked walked back into the firelight the others were gathered about by, having been listening to what she could catch of the conversations. "You folks like a dirge dont'cha?" She was clothed now at least and her brace of pistols clattered about in their leather harness strapped to her chest. the rest of her gear sat in her copiously bicep'd arms. "What's the need for all this doom an' gloom tonight, eh? We've rabbit, fuel and giblets to gnaw on." The Arbalest flashed a pearly grin at her compatriots. "Save bad moods for the Starspawn... shit, save the 'real talk' for them to, they'd probably appreciate it more than a bolt in the heart..."
"Oh!" She clapped her hands together. "Speaking of damage to internal organs, ahem, Hook! I need a stiff drink." With an ungraceful twirl the Arbalest made her way over to the former barman. She perched on whatever could function as a seat near him, back facing the others. "I'll have the usual." The lass chuckled as the involuntary amputee served up an understanding mug of 'putrid' with lashings of Rania's favourite side order: comfortable silence.
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