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Post by Unter on Mar 7, 2018 11:12:45 GMT -8
Francois concentrated for the last draw of the sharpening stone on the edge of his sword. He drew his finger along the blade, and was satisfied with his work. Planting the sword in the ground, he embraced the camp with one good look of the eye, turning his head wide in an exagerated movement. People were talking, being excited about an escape plan. This was all useless.
They would all die here. Each and everyone of them. This was the Light's will, they would die fighting the Darkness they all unleashed. They could only stay and pray. And die. He let his sword dug in the earth, standing like an Altar for the few Faithful. He went into his tent, a simple drape of cloth. Inside was his armour, and the Banner of the Light. It was a magnificent thing, and when he laid his hands on it he knew he was destined to die here. He kneeled on the ground to admire it : The fabric was inlaid with gold, with a beautiful torch embroigned on it. This was Francois' main motivation, the drive of his faith and the drive of his power. He would die accompanying the thing.
But it was time for his day exercises. He started puting on his blackened armour, tying the leather straps in a professional move. Then, Tilly screamed like an angel of battle
"ALAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARM"
Francois' fingers clenched on the armour, and the hurry that ensured worsened his once professional "armour wearing".
His breastplate was probably well attached, and he rushed outside to grasp his sword. He let the Banner of The Light inside the tent, he didn't need it for what was probably a skirmish. The Light willing, they would be back on their routine in a minute.
He spoke, to everyone and to no one in particular.
"Where ? Where are they ?"
He spotted the knot of people gathered around and paced quickly, putting his helmet while walking.
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Post by azmoham on Mar 7, 2018 11:27:52 GMT -8
The woman perked up, turning her head briefly to locate the source of the call before settling her eyes once more on the things in the mist. She thought there were lights out there, but that was impossible, there was nothing else out here to make light but them...and whatever wanted them dead. Her posture straightened, her meat hand going to unhook the buckler from where it was strapped to her back. The cool metal of its handle was a shock to her warm skin, and she flexed bony fingers; the shield was raised, not much but enough to guard her breast against unexpected attacks. Her stump thrummed, a dull ache that ran all the way to the edge and then back down her arm again, alive with energy as she braced herself.
She bent her knees, spreading her feet apart so they were slightly more than shoulder width apart and began to advance, one silent, plodding step after the other towards the foe. She prayed that her ‘allies’ would be thoughtful enough not to stoke the monster’s ire with their obnoxious clatter, lest more of the beasts swarm them. The lights, the light were so still, like water, she never took her eyes off them as she moved, head slightly bowed. Her jaw was clenched, every muscle spooled tight, ready for the moment when it would release in a violent whirl of blood and steel singing against the flesh, a flutter in her chest, she took a deep breath and released it slowly and with a shiver.
“Come then.”
She whispered harshly, almost to herself.
“Come on then, let’s see. Bring it out, bring it aaaaall out.”
She smiled, just for a moment, before the look evaporated like dew and all that was left was stoney concentration.
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Post by Mr. Swagwalker on Mar 7, 2018 14:59:44 GMT -8
Derek stopped dead in his tracks, his moment of silence broken. A shout had come from nearby and cut through the air. The yell sent a cold shiver down his spine, that one word made every muscle in his body grow tense. The dreaded moment, which had haunted his dreams, had finally arrived.
Alaaa-aaaa-aaarrrmmmm!
They had been found.
Without a moment of hesitation Derek pulled out his pistol and drew his sword, sprinting towards the origin of the shout. The word still echoed in his thoughts, growing ever in volume and intensity like a haunting ghost of victims past. He arrived at the site, and was met with a group already gathered there. "What's going on?" Derek asked firmly, pulling back the hammers of his double-barreled flintlock using his thumb. He squinted with his eyes, his cold blue gaze darting from left to right in search of the imminent threat.
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Post by porkylabrador on Mar 8, 2018 3:34:10 GMT -8
As Beatrix spoke, Rania hadn't heard a word of it, her keen perceptive abilities had spotted the encroaching unkindness of shadows moving on them. Simply the older woman wasn't worth arguing with and as she'd uttered her brooding quacks, the Arbalest had calmly and collectively been outfitting herself for what was to come. Thankfully she'd gotten dressed which in included her armour post-bath but now, the armoured lass checked her pistols and gathered her crossbow and hatchet.
Lazily Ariana pawed the air as she strolled away from Beatrix. "Shhh... don't be a cunt or things will try to fuck you. Especially those things." The Arbalest nodded sagely as Tilly's alarm rang out in their ears.
She'd stem the flow of any enemies that might try to pass through with a hail of bolts and bullets as soon as the fighting started. John? With practised skill Rania moved towards their biggest opening... they were light in their headcount weren't they? She moved towards where the farmhand had been seen last, carefully, like a predator ready to spring its trap.
You actual fucking space-dogs. You couldn't have let me enjoy being clean for two minutes could you? What a waste of a perfectly nice wash, I'm going to get you down and get you dirty you jumped-up-fucking-dirty-starspawn-pieces-o'-shit-motherfuckers. Grouchily, she hefted her crossbow and sighted down an enemy, ready, prepared.
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Post by relentless on Mar 8, 2018 13:10:58 GMT -8
/Orb Walker/
Beatrix would move like a mouse through the interior of the walls, a dexterous little thing. The wash of cloth, and slight metallic jingle would slip over the rejuvenating patchy carpet of green, though the sound was rather minuscule, along with the visibility of the elderly warrior. As she skittered through the brush, the creature would become entirely more clearer, perhaps a negative more than a positive from what was revealed.
From a crouched position, Beatrix would only be able to see the ghastly creatures head. A pulsating formation of flesh, which seemed to be an enlarged brain filled like a balloon, with some form of 'breathing' taking place in its head for whatever reason, the head pulsating slowly.
The yellow orbs would be revealed to be rather luminescent eyes dotted around its horrific landscape of a face, all of them staring intensely at the group, despite the mist making silhouettes out of them. They seemed to quiver from a lack of visible blinking, though no sign of bloodshot seemed to occur. But slowly would it seem to move closer, and closer, the hum of sing song more intense as Beatrix neared.
It didn't notice Beatrix, and nothing else seemed to notice Beatrix. The bushes were clear, and the trees allowed starlight to come down and bless her with moonlight.
//The Farmhand's Watch//
As Ariana neared the crevice, passing by Libourg as he stood watching the figures far across from his position, John would be no where in sight. There was no sign of his smoking pipe, his hat, or the man himself. Some moonlight was blocked off in the trees, a strange shape formed above. From where John most recently stood, a single blood drop pooled inbetween his shoes.
The shape didn't move, but something seemed to hang down from where the shape originated.
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Post by azmoham on Mar 8, 2018 14:22:03 GMT -8
She marshaled her will, squinting at the ungainly thing as it shuddered in the murk. An itch, strong, tingled through her right arm and she grit her teeth.
Soon
She almost dared not to breathe lest she attract the creature’s attention. It was misshapen, and it lack of earthly form only made it more difficult for the woman to discern from where she should attack from. Where was its front? Its back? And what, what was that noise? Ethereal and haunting it seemed to almost be a part of her thoughts were it not for the obvious contrast it bore to the rest of her mind. Silken and clean whereas her brain was anything but by this point. Looking back to the others, she could see that a few of them were making to approach the creature. Did she wait for them to engage and strike from the back, or charge in now and count on them to support her? She shook her head, too dangerous. She trusted them with her life as much as she would a brigand with her coin purse, and so the decision was made. She slunk further forward, moving off to the entity’s right side as she sought to flank the beast, and make an attack of opportunity when its attention was focused elsewhere. Her fingers wrapped themselves tighter about the handle of her minute shield, focused intently on her task. But that was easier said than done, with such a rhapsody taking place in her skull. It was talking, mumbling, murmuring, singing… She hadn’t heard music in so long, not since before the fire at least. Nobody sung anymore, unless it was a dirge. Gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw, she resisted the urge to paw at her head, trying to dislodge the chorus by physical means.
Why don’t you just be quiet?
She demanded of the thing, but no reply was discernible among the babble. The ache, the itch, it was maddening, she wanted to feel it, that clean sensation, that rip of skin, but she had to wait. She had to be patient, she had to be silent and careful, and so she forced her legs forward, one step at a time, coming around what she had to assume was the monster’s backside. It would feel so good, just to cut, to feel it slice, but no, no, she had learned to stow those words away till she needed them, till she could use them. For now, she merely stayed low and tried to avoid detection.
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Post by Kidney on Mar 8, 2018 16:45:59 GMT -8
Voices. Alarming, because they were screaming an alarm of their own. Roard turned, hand clenching hard on the handle of his blade, his eyes scanning the treeline again. He saw nothing. His clenched lungs gave way, and a growl flew forth from him as he turned back towards the cart. He clenched his yellowed teeth together, and hurled the blade into the back of the cart.
He walked towards the front, his eyes scanning for the blood-stained handles towards the end. Seeing the bundles of rags forming his dried handles, he clamped both of his mits around them, staring forward. He pulled hard, boots sinking into gray soil, neck muscles clenching, and with another growl, he yanked the stiff wheels out of their smallish pits. He pulled and pulled, yanking the cart away from the open area, pulling it closer towards the clouded hellpool.
He brought the cart forth, hefting the mighty load across the camp, towards the side of the pond. He caught sight of Libourg, getting closer to him, but veering into the waters. He winced as the water flooded against his soft, blistered calves, and with a small wail, he left the cart on the side of the pond. The wheels were a little damp, but not submerged by any means. He dropped the two poles, both of them falling into the water a few inches, sinking in, soaking the ragged handles.
He turned back towards Libourg, seeing him, taking note of his position while grabbing the Wheatcutter from his cart. He took steps, hefting it back over his shoulder, taking note of his position and stance, making sure to be ready for attack on any side as he took up position beside him. He spoke his name, like a greeting. "Libourg."
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 20, 2018 7:40:02 GMT -8
The orb walker continued making its march onward to the camp, slow, shambling like the corpse it was. The bloodshot eye orbs continued to float and move around, completely focused on the women ahead of it, still unaware of Beatrix behind her. The closer it shambled the louder the sounds got, slicing metal and the ghastly chorus of voices, aiming to distract and unnerve its prey as it moved slowly onward.
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