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Post by The Carrying Blade on Aug 9, 2018 14:15:38 GMT -8
The Old Road:
The old road was silent tonight, the moon full and the stars shining below. The band of adventurers would find themselves alone, no wilderness, not even the ominous creaking of the shadows. Only the sounds of there own breath, as they wandered onward, seemingly forever as there was no change in their scenery. A calm before what was to be a destructive storm of fighting, excitement, and terror.
This was the time to talk, to express ones feelings and thoughts of the situation to come. It was as if the silence was tempting them to break it, for strangers of nothing had no place where the festivities were many and talk would be required at their destination. After all, all were welcome, at the Masquerade, at least those not a shambling silent corpse of fungus.
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Post by Kidney on Aug 9, 2018 19:02:01 GMT -8
Red.
Dewitt moved like a ghoul, shifting uncomfortably, bringing up the rear of the party. He stared, the Roses remaining a safe distance from the party, safety in numbers. Dewitt seemed to stare off, the seemingly blind man doing little to betray an exterior of incompetence.
Dewitt spoke, to no one in particular, "So, we retrieve the boy. Dead or alive. We should decide now."
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Post by relentless on Aug 10, 2018 6:01:17 GMT -8
Villon had long since removed himself from the confines of the Tavern and left the boy alone, the boy was drunk out of his mind. He had better things to do, gold to collect, and his mind to distract from his own past.
The mans heavy headed axe was resting on his shoulder as he moved forward, pushing past the blind, and certainly odd stranger.
"Longa' we talk, the boy will be dead."
Villon said without turning to face the man as he took lead, the mans wholesome, broad and muscular form acting as the spearhead into whatever were to come. Of course... he knew that there some damnable horrors, especially in the trees. So he looked onward toward the trees with a sceptical nature, heavy boots treading across the pasty mud.
"So get a move on."
Villon spoke loud and clear toward the rest of the party as he continued onward.
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Post by Unter on Aug 11, 2018 10:51:57 GMT -8
Francois was examining the old road as they trecked on forward. The sweet sound of his steel boots crunching on dead leaves and fungi reassured him. Even in this wild place, Humanity could survive and win. Checking his equipment at the light of this torch, he listened to the soft whispers of his companions.
There was still no sign of this so called... masquerade. Blast it.
"I don't care about some low-life boy. If he came here willingly, he was a fool. And fool don't deserve to survive long. I say we burn this whole section of the forest, and be done with it ! I don't even know why this wasn't done sooner. This filthy place should be purged to the ground."
He spat on the ground, disgusted by his surroundings. What manner of abominations could live here ?
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Post by relentless on Aug 12, 2018 13:20:59 GMT -8
Villon turned around on a swivel, a sidestep to the left as his body turned to face Francois with a scowl.
"Shut it, young man! Save yah shite for when we're done. We'll decide what to do with the kid when we're there..."
Villon hushed with a stern tone as he gave him a scolding squint, before he wave them forward toward the confines of the woods.
"Now come! The faster we get this done, the sooner you can kick your feet up!"
The large man encouraged with a mild sense of vigour, before he turned about and began to move forward once again, expecting the others to follow, unless stopped again where he'd have to backtrack toward the group again.
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Post by orwelles on Aug 14, 2018 18:53:02 GMT -8
Porter lazily worked his eyes along the surrounding path, not dignifying the situation any further with a response. As the axeman crudely put it, haste would be a boon in this situation. Dragging his mind away from his time in the tavern, the matter of the Masquerade piqued Porter's interest. Given that he hadn't encountered any local nobility, the event's hosts would be dissolute debutantes at best, and incompetent rakes at worst. This theory was only bolstered by their choice of guests. He supposed he couldn't hold it against the boy for seeking out the nobility, but the channels he went about it were entirely foolish.
Regardless, there would be plenty of time to correct this botched Noveau-Riche once they retrieved him.
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Post by Kidney on Aug 14, 2018 21:56:38 GMT -8
Red.
Dewitt grumbled, "You did not answer the question, men. Our mission is to retrieve the boy. I vote we bring him back alive," he spoke with a grinding tone, he was clearly frustrated, following Villion with precision now, walking as if a rag did not obscure his seemingly "blind" eyes.
"Speed is not of the essence." He said, cracking his neck over uncomfortably far to stare at Porter. "What's your vote?"
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Aug 19, 2018 15:26:43 GMT -8
Conversation would be interrupted, thought would be diswayed, movement would grind to a halt, all thanks to the music that was starting to play in the air all around them. It sounded like singing, it sounded like a band was playing, lyrics could be heard, and for some odd inconceivable reason it was getting louder. Yet nothing approached them, in fact the only thing the adventures could take note of was a clean, smooth white cement road that was placed to the left of the party, clear like granite as they moved on. And standing on either side of the path were signs, both written the exact same way, with the exact same words, and the exact same style.
“Come one, come all, join the call! The Masquerade starts, when the night falls.
Doesn't matter who you are, doesn't matter where you’ve been, as long as you talk and have a brain then you are welcome in!
Come one, come all, join the call! We’ll repay all the debts you have, absolve you of your prior blackest sins, just be polite and don’t start a fight, and you’ll be okay in the walls.
For no one cares, AT THE MASQUERADE!”
Clearly the right place to go, but yet it was clearly off putting, it wasn’t noticable before. Yet now here they were with a clear path and the right way to go. Who knows what they will find, after all the leader isn’t the one to ignore newcomers, they have a knack of getting more followers even in the worst of people.
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Post by Kidney on Aug 19, 2018 19:50:01 GMT -8
Dewitt would not be the first to notice the road, but not the last.
He jumped, hissing with angered surprise, pointing a dirty finger towards it. "Witchcraft." He growled, teeth grinding audibly, to those near enough to hear. His dense black eyebrows knitted together, and he looked towards the knight who previously ranted and raved.
"Go on, step foot on it. Protect the blind man."
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Post by Unter on Aug 20, 2018 4:13:17 GMT -8
Francois was about to speak back at the... peasant that snapped at him, when a devilish sounds started playing. Blasted forest. Blasted fools he served with. At least, they could be swords he could relied on while all the glory will be his. He clasped his helmet on his head, while saying.
"Heretical ramblings. Don't listen to this fool's errand ! Bear with me, I shall open the path with the fire of my Faith !"
He unsheated his sword, and stuck his torch to his shield, and prayed loudly.
"O Light ! Hear my cry.
Guide me through the Blackest Nights,
Steel my heart against the Temptations of the wicked.
Make me to rest in the warmest places."
He trailed onward, crushing the grass under his boots.
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Post by relentless on Aug 20, 2018 5:37:17 GMT -8
Really?
What kind of pisstake was this? Some dumb founded dance in the middle of no where, trying to rhyme like a goat drunk on the shittest whiskey.
Then there was this cocksure kid, spouting about faith and anything regarding bulls hit. Villon huffed again, shaking his head as he followed François.
"If ya half a pissin' noggin, clearly a buncha bear traps ova' there! Come, surely a better way than through."
Villon barked at the rest of the group? before he took lead with a bump of the shoulder into François. He walked a omg side him, and he turned his head downward toward the 'knight'.
"Watch the trees, little man. Last time I was 'ere, big birds be a'lurking through the branches. I'll be checkin' for traps, aye? Aye."
Villon did not wait for a response as he moved on ahead, his the shaft of home is is axe falling down into the grasp of his hands as heads he moved away from the path.
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Post by orwelles on Aug 30, 2018 19:31:52 GMT -8
Oh God, it was a Theme Party. The last time he went to one of those, the aldermen spent weeks picking sundries out of the corn maze. Porter's suspicions were all but confirmed at this point. All the same, a job was a job, and having to endure the dissolute mediocrity of poetry-based activities will hopefully be rewarded with a chance to meet some real nobility.
He idly ran a hand down his cane, and glanced at the path. "The boy best cooperate. Why don't we split up? See how these ... Masqueraders take guests and trespassers."
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Post by Kidney on Aug 30, 2018 20:13:39 GMT -8
Dewitt turned, staring at the man who spoke, staring at his cane, his mouth scrunched shut and his face taut. He sighed, walking towards the man, standing beside him. "I'm with him."
He reached, tapping Porter's arm. "May I borrow that cane there? I need it," he grumbled, gesturing to the wood cane in Porter's hands.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Sept 2, 2018 12:45:53 GMT -8
To think, that the party would split up half and half to take both ways to get to the Masquerade, now however one half would get off scotch free while the others would have to face what lurked off the beaten path. The music now a constant drone, never quieting, never slowing, just as if it was recording and played on repeat whenever they got to the end of the song. Porter and Dewitt when they moved on would find no problems, just the road continuing onward, almost never ending when compared to how long it took to find this road in the first place.
As for Francois and Villon the road and the others would disappear from their sight faster than the bugs that darted their ways across their eyes and faces, almost as if in a panic of some sort, avoiding the two. The music from the Masquerade was their only way to tell they were going in the right direction, the white concrete road had long since been removed from reach, even if they wanted to go on it they would never find it. But in the midst of the music, there was the darkness that surrounded them, only Francois’s torch could light their way as the farther they moved onward the worse their line of sight would become.
Soon they would begin to hear voices, hush whispers, movement in the woods and trees so quick they would be almost impossible to discern where and what was making them. The darkness stalling now and giving the duo a meter in all directions to see, enough to walk but not enough to fight properly. This was terrifying for half people who strayed off the path, the others were too stupid or too foolish to realize now was the time to back down and retreat else they face what most only think of.
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Post by Unter on Sept 2, 2018 13:00:49 GMT -8
Francois mumbled his prayer while Villon was going with him. Good man. This team was forming up.
"Do it, Villon. I trust my life on your capable eyes. The Light is illuminating our path."
But as they advanced through the forest, the darkness seemed to battle against François' torch. His mumblings got louder and louder as the fear of the unknown clawed its way into him. He had to be strong. He just had to.
"...For You are the Flame at the Heart of the World,
And Salvation is only Yours to give."
And the moment Francois finished his prayer, the darkness closed in. Black as death. Voices, movements, every kind of alarm that would beset Francois' reflexes and make him flinch at every sound. Blast it. Blast it ! He attached the torch on his shield, where it was supposed to be. The Light was reflected on his sword, and he could only think of it as a good omen. He cried.
"Unholy foulness ! Come feel the bite of my sword ! THE LIGHT COMPELS ME TO SEND YOU TO YOUR ETERNAL DAMNATION !"
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