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Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 2, 2018 15:46:31 GMT -8
Nasuris looked to Libourg, then to Tilly, testing on the cabbage, and with a small nod she sits down, pulling off her hood to let herself feel the wind in her hair. Long, silvery grey hair tumbled down, finally free from the small hoods prison, it reached the ground with how long it was, she never wanted to cut it. She ran her hand through her hair, getting out any knots and just doing something to smooth her mind a little.
“What have you two seen out there in the woods lately? Rumors have been around for a while about a strange beast here and a strange beast there, but I just don’t believe them. No use trying to worry about the imaginary when we’ve already seen the nightmares, don’t you agree?” Nasuris asked, her voice sluggish and obviously tired, her eyes had bags under them, and although she seemed about as fine as either of them, it was clear she hadn’t been sleeping.
This of course was the case, sleep came rarely and often she spent days awake watching and being the camps nightguard given her instinctual and evlolved adaptions to the dark of night. Not to mention she was kept awake by nightmares, and a sense of dread that never left until the morning. She wanted to try and get more rest but as fate would say it was not going to happen easily, it could even get worse.
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Post by azmoham on Mar 2, 2018 17:09:19 GMT -8
Name: Beatrix Balogh
Sex: Female
Age: 40
Shieldbreaker/Gaurd/Hauler.
Armour Description: Scavenged breastplate, escaralones, leather gauntlets, leather skullcap.
Attire: Dark red dress that falls to just below her knees(generally kept tied above her knees when in combat/working) stained apron, white shayla (headscarf/bandana), hand-stitched leather boots that go to mid-calf, stained white stockings tied off at the thigh.
Weapons: Sharpened sickle.
Unique Detail: Outside of the obvious missing hand, Beatrix is also a native to the Hamlet, having been born and raised under its gabled roofs and along its muddy streets.
Inventory: Sickle, prayer-book, gold ring, two slices of stale bread, a small portion of cheese, a small knife, a medium satchel, a battered plate shield.
Beatrix sports neck-length brownish-black hair with a few sparse strands of silver picked out among the dark, a sign more of stress than that of age. The woman is worn in other ways, her whole body thin and hard, used to the meager portions afforded to her by the lowly status she carried. Calluses run across her hand and a much of her skin is dotted with freckles. There is a slightly rusty but wickedly sharp sickle tied to her right arm, where a hand would normally reside.
Sanity: The strains of the within the hamlet have sturdied her mind against the worst of the horror, but even still her ordeals have wrought some affects upon the aging woman.
Hunger: Noticeable.
Health: Weakened.
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Post by Kidney on Mar 2, 2018 21:51:51 GMT -8
A quiet hum, slightly out of tune. The grind of a mighty cleaver, twisting a hole into cracked and dead earth. A man cloaked in the pestilence that once clouded the Weald. His soft eyes, moistened with water fresh from the skin on his belt, watched over the various crates containing the necessities.
He spun the blade again. It ground deeper, and Roard moved it. The dirt-covered tip now sunk down slightly, the heft of the gigantic blade pushing the small point into the deep.
A crescendo, a little bit of note, then a return to the humming. He watched the Caretaker, his hands not standing to be idle, maneuvering the rations again, into a new pattern. A colidiscope of a beautiful assortments, for the man knew no stop. He had no other coping mechanism. Roard watched, dripping hands unable to touch food not meant for himself. The wrappings covering him did not do much for his finger-movements.
He attempted to spread them slightly, but the dull hum of numb digits as well as the bandages holding them close prevented any sort of readjustment.
The caretaker continued, but Roard's fingers remained stationary. So, he used them like a flipper, and spun the blade again. "The gunner and his mate, love Meg, Margary, but not Kate. For she had a tongue with a tang, would cry to a sailor, 'Go hang.'"
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Post by azmoham on Mar 3, 2018 10:21:12 GMT -8
Blood had soaked into the cracks between the cobblestones and hardened like an infernal clay in the fires that had raged through the town upon its fall. Like Rome, shaken and rent and burned; the end of a world. Now this was the end of theirs, all lives forfeit in the face of such a beastly catastrophe, men reduced to screaming cattle as they were butchered by the dozens and then the hundreds or else left to go mad and take up the bronze masks of the cult which glutted itself on the frenzied masses as they fled from their homes, desperate to escape the rolling wave of horror.
She tore her gaze from the blade, swallowing hard as she fixed her eyes on the horizon, there or the blade were where her gaze tended to settle most often these days. But she had to see them coming, had to be prepared, had to be ready for when they came back for her other hand. Her lips peeled back into a snarl almost subconsciously and she glowered at sun as it rose higher into the sky, bloody and red like an open wound. Everything was wounded, the very nature of the world seemed to have fumbled somewhere vital, with horrible consequences.
She blinked hard and turned her eyes downwards, towards the earth before lifting her head and casting a glance over her shoulder towards the camp. It appeared to finally be awakening, so she stood and stretched, her legs sore from their prolonged crouching position and her back straining for a moment as she twisted and turned to work the kinks from her muscles. With that settled she sauntered towards the camp, intending for breakfast, a malcontent frown on her face.
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Post by relentless on Mar 3, 2018 11:10:41 GMT -8
/Libourg/
"Sure. Perhaps we could get a fire going? I caught a... well, 'found' so to speak-"
Libourg said in a tired manner, where he would sit the oddly shaped bag down as he descended to the ground, helmet being taken off to reveal his weathered face and tattered hair. In times like these, taking care of ones appearance would be the least of ones concerns.
The bag pooled down, and it would reveal one small, deceased baby rabbit. It's neck was snapped in several places, the contortion and twist of its neck was apparent. Its eyes were bloodshot, and hollow.
"A thrall caught me off guard whilst I was scouting the area, hit me on the shoulder and stood on this bugger."
He patted his pauldron twice, before grimacing in mild discomfort. He fished the rabbit out, grabbing it by its back fur and hoisting it up.
"At least it died for a good cause. Bless'ed be the rabbit."
Libourg chuckled, a light smile being brought about, though falling as he looked back into his bag.
"I found something else, as well..."
Libourg stated in a rather grim manner, his hand picking up one last object; a small, crystalized blood clot humming with energy. He held it in his hand, shaking his head.
"Still don't know what these things are bloody used for."
Libourg huffed in a passive aggressive tone, sniffing the air and looking around.
"Well, as they say! Life's full of mysteries!"
He piped up with a false sense of enthusiasm, before letting his true colours show once more, the smile turning in a neutral line of clear discomfort.
"But yeah, didn't find much. And lord knows we need to find 'much' if we're ever gonna get out of here, in one piece! And not... as one of those things either."
Libourg grumbled, a pessimistic tone befalling him as he propped up his head on his chin, resting his arm upon his elbow, whilst with the other hand, it tossed the blood clot to one side, the strange jewel-like object thudding hard against the dirt.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 3, 2018 11:27:13 GMT -8
Tilly's green eyes widened with horror, and she shivered violently, as though a piercing wind had suddenly chilled her.
Her voice was hushed.
"Wild. Cabbages. Dotting the horizon. I fought them in their own bloody nests..." She giggled a little and peeled off a leaf of cabbage skin from its head before offering the whole of the cabbage to Nasuris.
Rolling the cabbage leaf into a luxurious, cigar-like shape, she jabbed it pointedly at Nasuris before pinning it between her teeth.
"Those creeps and crawlies everywhere didn't help very much, either. Thralls, mostly. Clumsy... little... things... oh dear." She had trailed off to a whisper, watching the prey snared in his hands dismally.
The cabbage leaf slumped in her mouth.
"A baby... poor little Dawnglow. Hm." She sighed, and with a dirty, long, worm-like finger, she pushed the roll of cabbage leaf into her mouth and chewed, eyes to the sky a moment.
Her hand raised, and curled into a fist beneath her chin, as though poised to strike herself for a moment. It loosened; she seemed to think better of it.
She broke into a small smile again,
"Perhaps we shall give it to Courcy? Set it atop her back while she sleeps, hm?"
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 3, 2018 12:09:19 GMT -8
Nasuris would’ve called Tilly crazy, she would’ve gotten up and left if it wasn’t for the fact they shared the same camp, if she wanted to leave that is. Nasuris would’ve done that, and never want to speak to her again, yet she knew how it was like to be unhinged, she knew no one could really act sane in this place without being crazy themself. So she stared calmly at Tilly and took the cabbage, quietly peeling off a leaf of skin, popping it into her mouth.
“Perhaps we indeed could give it to miss campfire, she probably hasn’t had any real meat in days....” She said, letting out a chuckle as she realized the joke in her words. It was lighthearted, something she thanked Tilly for, after all she had to learn a sense of humor somewhere and where better to learn than the woman who uses jokes to keep herself chippy? Though, her attention was soon going to the blood clot Libourg had decided to drop, and like an eagle snatched it from the ground with such a blinding quickness, it was gone inside her pocket in a flash, which housed another, more personal blood clot.
“Those, Libourg, are best kept by someone with my abilities, if you ever find more please give them to me. I’ve been studying one since this all started and it holds more inside it that you can’t ever imagine. This goes for you too Cabbage killer, you find one you take it, it’ll be worth it.” Nasuris spoke with a somewhat serious tone, holding up the cabbage to Libourg for him to take it if he wanted, knowing he most likely needed something to eat too. Such a shame it was, really, to eat by themselves while the rest of the camp did their jobs, at least Nasuris could still do hers while eating.
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Post by black379 on Mar 3, 2018 13:08:38 GMT -8
A crest of fire peeked out of a tent before the woman escaped fully. Draped in chainmail, she hugged her arms to her chest and began a leisurely stroll to soothe the orange glow from her skin. Courcy's bare feet carried her past the blacksmith, and she thought to help him sort through scraps - smelt any unusable bits. But she could do that later, when she was more awake.
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Post by relentless on Mar 3, 2018 13:31:45 GMT -8
Libourg stared hard at Tilly as she rambled on in her rather odd, lucid state of mind. She was indeed losing some of her sanity, but who wouldn't when their homes were taken, and all that was left were the roaming horrors of eldritch mutation? It was but a side effect, one that would take hold fully if they stayed here for too long, either in the hamlet, or the plane of the living.
So he let out a harsh, almost bitter sigh as he looked toward Nasuadas feet, nodding sagely at her advise. Though his face would cringe up in suspicious, only for a brief moment, before letting it return to its grim state.
"Aye, will do. Cheers, by the way."
Libourg said, taking the leaf of cabbage and toasting her with it before he ripped a part off with his mouth, chewing delightfully. His lips cringed a tad, having cabbage on its own was a bit out of the ordinary, but at least it was something. He looked toward Tilly, and shook his head with a worried brow, nudging Tilly on the knee.
"Get some rest, you've earned it."
He smiled at her sheepishly, before he made to rise.
"We'll be out of here in no time."
Libourg promised, words of encouragement no doubt. But it had been about... thirty times he's said that already. So perhaps it was just repetitive screech of desperate hope that left his lips. At least he gave the time and energy to say it over and over, to potentially keep morale up. Turning on his feet, he waved at Courcy and motioned for them to join the trio, before looking back down at his rabbit, raising head level with Libourg so he was staring into its dead eyes, before lowering it and looking at Courcy.
"I'm sure you two will get along fine..."
He whispered under his breath, waiting to see if Courcy would come over.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 3, 2018 13:49:12 GMT -8
Tilly rose a blonde brow with a brazen smirk as she pulled more cabbage from its head.
"Bed before dinner? My my, what ever happened to romance?"
By the look on her face, she truly thought she was hilarious.
"Nooo..." She drew out the word slowly, rolling the cabbage leaf into a ball between her fingers. "Why don't we just get to know each other? I've been dying to talk to all of you."
Fingers squirming together, like maggots, she webbed them together and cushioned her chin with them after sticking the cabbage-ball into her mouth.
Her gaze flitted between Libourg, Nasuris, and then the distant Courcy, as she chewed.
"How do you plan on getting out of here, I wonder? I don't think you lot plan on dying here, do you?"
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 3, 2018 14:45:00 GMT -8
“A plan to get out? I don’t like to think of things like that, I’ve lost what I would’ve wanted to leave with, I don’t have a reason to leave anymore. But for you, maybe I will help if you have a plan.” Nasuris spoke, very melancholy as she explained herself. It was obvious the topic was a rough one given her dour look to the ground, and she hoped people would say their piece before she started brooding again. This time she took two pieces off, nibbling on one at a time to make it last longer, even if the taste was gone.
She could feel Courcy’s presence before the group could speak, having a demon inside you wasn’t exactly invisible to some creatures or people when it could be sensed. When it came to the people in camp Libourg was really the main person she knew, Tilly and Courcy less so but having lower than 20 people in a place made it really easy to know everyone’s names at the very least, and their entire life at the most.
Escape is no longer an option for me, yet death is no longer one either....survive and kill, kill and survive, I will survive by killing and kill by surviving. It is what I owe to him, and only him is why I will do this.
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Post by relentless on Mar 3, 2018 17:24:31 GMT -8
Libourg scoffed and shook his head from side to side, running his plated hand over his partially overgrown head of hair. A partial blush seemed to form on his face, scoffing again.
"A married woman engaging in romance with other people? Pah! How scandalous!"
Libourg chuckled, a genuine smile seemed to form over his face, if only for a moment, it was a warm touch to the group. But now she settled on a more dark matter. Would he get it? Is it even possible? He hoped so, he had been hoping to escape for over a year and a half.
"By any means necessary I suppose, no sense in waiting to be eaten. From all that we've been through, from what I'VE been through... all I want is to buy a house far, far away from here... and sleep for a week."
Libourg pondered on, dreaming away freedom, before the smile faded and he looked down to the ground, in a mildly depressed manner.
"But no. I don't have a clue how we'll get out. Well, besides the swarm obliterating the army so we can get past that is... but I'd rather not go down that route at all. Even if it means, dying in this place."
Libourg grumbled, hand moving down to stroke at his beard, flexing his lip in bitter contempt.
"What about you then? You gonna throw your hat in the air, make a portal and disappear?"
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Post by azmoham on Mar 3, 2018 18:46:51 GMT -8
The thin woman considered those few others who huddled among the ruin here with her. They were a ragged band to be sure, but they were also as far as she was aware the last bastion of anything that could be called civilization in the sprawling wastes of corruption that stretched far into the forests and reached their inky black fingers into the waters of the ocean. Her eyes shifted from one frail, grey form to another; each being noteable and pitiable in their own way. There was the knight, a fool in plate, but she suspected he’d be handy in a fight, particularly considering the advantages afforded him by his armor. But nobody made it this long without having some sense with a blade, her eyes flashed to her own now affixed to her body, or else they’d long since have joined the ranks of the dead already swollen with men and women better than any of the survivors. From the knight she looked next to the blonde woman, toying with a head of cabbage, here Beatrix’s eyes narrowed, she was not sure what to make of the stringy blond. After all, it was apparent she was mad from even a few moments consideration, but she was evidently skilled in more subtle arts, the sort that may be needed to escape the living hell that they found themselves trapped within.
But where the cripple’s eyes ultimately lingered longest was on the smouldering figure making her way through the camp in a way much similar to Beatrix, the woman was unnatural. She had some command of damned forces, a thing that was as rare as it was dangerous, being doubly so within the quarantine. Just looking at her made Beatrix’s stump itch, and she had to keep her already grim countenance from becoming an outright snarl. Untrustworthy, dangerous, unstable: Of course they all were at this point, any of them as like as the other to loose their weapons in a fit of madness against against the other inhabitants of the camp, but the pyromancer seemed an especially daring risk to have around, after all she could erase their whole patchwork society in a matter of minutes.
Beatrix shook her head, averting her gaze and steadying it once more on the small clump of people she was in the process of approaching. When she was within half a dozen feet she raised her flesh hand wordlessly, lowering it again a step or two later. Within a few seconds she stood on the outter edge of the circle, her flat eyes flitting from one person to the horizon and back to the grouping.
“Food?”
She asked simply, her voice a dry rasp, already flaking with age and now with weariness endemic to her survival.
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Post by black379 on Mar 3, 2018 21:04:53 GMT -8
Her stroll continued, casual as ever while her eyes lingered on the vermilion moon. There was a surreal beauty in the sky's perversion.
Courcy spotted the small, though still growing, group of survivors. Only Tilly was a close friend. The others were perhaps familiar, but the hellion made little effort to acquaint herself with everyone in the hellish suburb. Still, a gathering for news or gossip posed some interest, especially as the man in plate beckoned her over.
She closed the distance and sidled up beside Tilly. Saying nothing yet, blue eyes shifted between the cabbage and the rabbit that Libourg was holding.
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Post by porkylabrador on Mar 4, 2018 10:17:55 GMT -8
It'd been two days, two days whole days worth of her own company. It wasn't uncommon for Rania to head out to do what she was good at for this long but of late she'd been spending more and more time by herself and the eulogy of initials inked over her arms. In truth some days the only sound she could stomach hearing was her own crazed laughter as she fired veritable volleys of ammunition into a pack. "Big smiles." She mumbled to herself as she approached the camp, her whole body ached and she was sporting a number of new scratches and a colourful pair of black eyes.
"Evening boys and girls." She exclaimed with false, albeit convincing enthusiasm looking incredibly nonchalant given her battered appearance. "There's bones and fuel in that sack..." She said dropping some sackcloth to the floor with a hollow clatter. "Boil up the bones before you chew them, I'm not entirely convinced they're all that fresh, they'll taste alright with some water though. "I've got about a dozen different creature's fluids in and on my person so I'm off for a dip. Be good, cubs." It was true she was a tatty sight, her clothing, armour and skin looked as though she'd rolled herself over a butcher's counter. So with that she made to leave and clank like the living arsenal she was towards the lake, gone as quickly as she'd arrived.
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