[Raid] Omak the Devoured

[Crimson]

Straylor Leonard January 16, 2018 04:05 PM

Timestamp: Late Winter, Melora, Era XXV

Existence on Arium's northern tip was never an easy one. So establishing and settling the township known as Xania was a testament to the founding families' endurance and hardheadedness. While lumber was plentiful, it was cod and sturgeon that kept Xanians fed. They were not so far north that the ocean froze over. But to say that it Xania shared their sunny neighbors' tropical weather would have been an insult -- perhaps to both parties. Xanians traditionally accepted that they were overlooked in the affairs of the new Empire. But their distaste for politics only grew when their sons were conscripted' by Arium's director-general.

So when troubled started brewing from the ruins of Estelgorod, the town's elders sought volunteers instead of seeking any Imperial protection. They arrived-- the young, the brave, and the foolish among them -- to handle the problems plaguing their fishermen and traders. But when the hunting party returned, they told tales about roaming undead and a gigantic monster killing their friends. Of the dozen or so men who volunteered, less than half returned. Those who were wounded succumbed to fever, weakness, and frothing of the mouth. When their shamans and healers could not undo the cursed wounds, the survivors had to be quarantined and restrained like feral dogs.

Within a few brightenings, a formal call went out to adventurers and mercenaries throughout Arium and anyone else interested in gore and glory. Rumors circulated around taverns and between trade caravans. Stories of a one-eyed terror large enough to devour a man whole were traded between legionnaires and city guards. And with each retelling, more young, brave, and foolish adventurers set out to hone their steel and test their mettle.

Welcome to Xania's Raid! You may assume that your character reached Xania and heard about the rumors of undead. Your character's wealth tier will determine what he/she may purchase in preparation for this Raid. This may include equipment, supplies, and hirelings. Your introductory post will double as your opportunity to prepare (but the degree of your success/failure will be moderated). After that, all Players have five (5) turns to successfully defeat the source of the undead. If they are successful, there will be loot and other rewards. If the source of the undead is not wiped out, there will be In-Character consequences. Posting may take place 1-2 times per day. Minimum 1 post per 24 hours. Adventure Begins January 17, 2018 at 8:00 am Los Angeles time. No new players accepted afterwards.

 

[Crimson]

Moss Oktra'rek January 16, 2018 05:54 PM

The creaks of moving leather filled the silence around Moss as he clenched his gloved fists and then stretched his fingers, as if to do so would actually ward off the bitter cold. As it was, his leather armour repelled the firmest parts of winter's grasp but he was far from warm.

Moss had escaped part of the wintry north by spending time on the southern coast, but his time in a gentler clime had reached its end. A return trip to Northumbria had been decided upon, from the City of Queens, but the rumours of undead in Arium caught up with him in Zerdargia. Surprised that such news had traveled so far south, Moss had felt a sense of urgency and continued north until he neared Xania.

And there he stood, on the outskirts of the town, leather boots upon the cold soil, a longsword strapped to each hip and a plain dagger buried into his boot, while his shield clung to his back. His dark grey eyes scanned the coastal town until he felt he was ready to ask questions of the stories he'd heard. Then, descending the small rise upon which he'd been standing, the bearded mystic entered the town, asking the first person he met about the rumours of undead until he'd been guided to the appropriate townsperson for more information.

"Serale," rumbled his gravelly voice. "I have heard the town is in need of adventurers, and I have heard...stories."

A slight pause as the human gauged the reaction, and - assuming the rumours were confirmed - he would have follow-up questions.

"Those who survived...what became of them? Did they explain how they escaped, or if they found anything particularly effective against their attackers?"

If there was something particularly useful that he could equip himself with, Moss planned to do precisely that. While the blonde traveller was foolhardy enough to join a raid on the undead, he wasn't quite dumb enough to want to do so completely uninformed.

 

[Crimson]

Barthelme January 16, 2018 07:07 PM
Barthelme was there. Indeed he could be found pretty much anywhere where there were stories about monsters devouring people, because you know, Otherlings. And anyway, research regarding a creature whose attacks had left its victims practically feral was exactly the sort of thing his colleagues at the asylum would be interested in. So Barthelme had come, with Sylaphormes in tow, and kitted out in his usual adventuring gear.

Sand Viper jerkin over Gullfeather-armored clothes. Bane of the Awoken. Pinnacle Crystal. Those were probably the highlights. Naturally Barthelme had also brought along the old brass knuckles, because let's face it, Mysticism was garbage against undead, and he would most likely need to rely mostly on physical force instead. Given the extreme gravity of the situation and the great cost of maintaining the spell, his Dream Bond with Sylaphormes was currently inert, but that was fine. She would be his eyes in the Dreamscape nonetheless, if he needed her as such. For example, he would ask her to examine the dreams of the monster's surviving victims. Perhaps there would be something informative there.

Of course Barthelme would be keeping Sylaphormes Invisible as per usual, to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings. He would introduce himself, though, to the people of Xania, in his capacity as a researcher from the asylum in far-off Arkdün.

"This... cyclopean beast I've heard of. Might I examine the survivors of the group who fought it? I'm a Mystic. If I can identify what has happened to their minds... my colleagues at the asylum and I might

--

Faust Kitrye'veresi January 16, 2018 07:49 PM
He was not Conrad Dietrich.

He was not Alexis Sapientia.

Nor would he ever be confused for those mindless fools, who had made mockeries of the province’s highest office.

Faust Kitrye’veresi, the Governor of Arium, arrived in Xania early in the morning, and he did not come alone. A host of hand-selected mercenaries from the city of Vortex accompanied him, most of them old acquaintances from his earliest brightenings on the surface. He had employed many of the sellswords over the eras, mostly as bodyguards and security details for caravans traveling to and from his lands. And because they had proven time and time again that their brawn and muscle was not merely for appearances, he had wasted no time hiring them yet again when news of Xania’s undead problem had reached him.

It required nasty people to vanquish nasty enemies, after all.

A crimson cape flowed from his slender shoulders as he meandered through the small town and eventually came across the adventurers who had gathered in response to the province-wide call for assistance. Had the Arium Legion not been primarily occupied throughout the vast realm protecting it from brigands and other vile creatures that had surfaced in the aftermath of the Xet invasion, he would have mobilized them without a second thought. Alas, as rumors of a gigantic monster were not sufficient to justify the abdication of the Arium Legion’s chief responsibilities, the dark elf had decided to take it upon himself to investigate.

And if nothing else, to show the people of Xania that he was with them.

“Serale, I am Faust Kitrye’veresi,” he greeted to whomever appeared to be in charge of the expedition. “And these are my men.” Pausing momentarily, he gestured with his hands towards the fierce-looking assembly behind him. He felt little need to introduce them as they were here for one purpose only: to earn their coin.

“I heard the rumors and came at once,” he explained, lowering his arms and hooking his thumbs over the front of his belt. “Where were the undead and this . . . colossal beast last seen?”

 

[Crimson]

Tiyribi Andares January 16, 2018 10:26 PM

Wanderlust was a powerful thing, and not particularly easily forgotten either. The past few decades had domesticated her and especially with the arrival of new lives that depended so entirely upon her, but there were days, and far more than she’d ever admit, that she missed the freedom that her early life had afforded. As the eras had worn on, it had become exponentially difficult to sneak away from responsibility and obligation, but still she had on those particular occasions when her desire for air and the ability to draw breath grew too great and what she had been supplanted what she once was.

It wasn’t the first time that Ibiryit Seradna had left word that business would have her return in a cycle and then disappear past the great walls of the Concordia Incola, but it certainly was the only instance that such a disappearance had led her to a province that was only second in familiarity to her own. It had been eras since she’d traveled in Arium lands unaccompanied by its lord governor, and in a way, she found it invigorating. To be without the trappings of identity and all it carried, the deference both faked and sincere, and the expectations that would weigh down even the most resolute soul freed her soul in a way that even the greatest accomplishes in life would never bring.

And so such a desire brought the news of undead in Xania, a place she had never visited, that were threatening people she had never met to her ears and drawn her inevitable attention. She had perhaps a single brightening, maybe less, before the lack of her presence in Primus Gaudeo would be keenly enough felt to start the pangs of guilt across her conscience, but for now?—now Ibiryit could do what could be done to help for the thrill of the thing, to not be noticed nor recognized, but instead only to do. So she traveled there, a journey made ever quicker and more convenient with the aid of her latent magicks, to offer what assistance she could.

She had no markings to denote her stature nor personage, wearing nothing more than common clothing and all jewelry, save the ring on her left hand, removed. A hood and cloak covered most of her tied-back pale hair and sharpened Esh’lahier features. Instinct and intention kept her toward the very back edges of the crowd, observing who came and who spoke—and led to a rather startling discovery that, in retrospect, she should have expected but also served to thoroughly dash the better of her plans. Her beloved’s presence would have been easy enough to pick out in a thousand-person crowd and his voice as familiar to her as her own—both of which would have normally granted her comfort, but now made her uneasy.

For a moment she considered disappearing entirely then and leaving the matter be. It would, after all, be an easier thing to explain if she simply could avoid it. But then a strange enough thought blossomed and drew a strange, wry smile across her face as she considered that perhaps explaining it all afterward wouldn’t be so bad really—and it may serve to be thoroughly amusing in the process.

So stay she did, though she minded her presence in an attempt to stay behind as much as she could, and said nothing.

 

[Crimson]

Vireylda Saharn January 17, 2018 12:46 AM

There were some that bent the world to them. Those whose actions were woven into the annals of history, to be spoken of in tales that showcased glory and wonder. Perhaps such were stepping onto the battlefield right now. It would be interesting if that was the case, the battle may one day be spoken of as an example of what was just and right. The individuals known far and wide.

Whatever the case, she was probably not going to be one of them.

Vireylda cut a fairly unimpressive figure in her leather armor, and black hooded cloak. Her iron long sword lay on the belt at her side, securely fastened. Plain boots crunched against the dirt, along with the simple leather pants. She had managed to acquire a leather shield, basic as it was. Still, better than nothing, right?

In fact, the only things that might have at all been notable about the elf, was the pale features of the Esh'lahier hidden underneath the hood. On her hand lay the other item. A Ring which contained 3 initate level spells. One a wave of decay, to spring forward in front of her hand with the intent to annihilate all that stood within the close vicinity. Two a spell of Impotence, to sap the energy of what might attack.

Finally an Acid Sphere.

Vireylda was thankful that her paranoia led her to prepare these before she'd even set out on this venture. The incident with the crager beasts had been a hard lesson, as well as the encounter with whatever had attacked her in the forest. Her teeth ground together at the thought of that. Not important. Focus.

All in all, she was probably still woefully prepared for whatever was going to happen, but to the necromancer the idea of a large mass of undead was too enticing to avoid.

So she made her way into the small town, surveying the area. It was worrying, to say the least. Groups of armed individuals made her nervous, and she knew that while things were calm right now, they definently wouldn't stay that way.

Aha! Let's just try and stay productively on task, yes? She tried to banish the somewhat hysterical thought, her mind suddenly locking onto a face that she was sure she knew, was it-?

Yes, it was.

The elf quietly made her way up to where she'd seen Faust, and attempted to stay out of his way until his conversation was over.

She sighed, attempting to quell the nerves running wild within her. While she waited she did survey the townesfolk, making a few inquiries as to the state of those escaped. Did they act in a certain way? Did they know any intelligence that might be useful? Were they even sane enough to give such a thing?

Hopefully some answers were forthcoming, and once what was asked was given (if anything was), she would find a moment, and make her presence known. Vireylda inclined her head in a short bow to the Lord Of Har'ololth. "My lord. It's been a while. I would say it's good to see you, but circumstances could be better, I think."

 

[Crimson]

Gye'ron Val Oriden

He had been on the road to Nexus Prime, to attend to his holdings there before the spring and he had to put in the hard work that his ranch required. That was when the word had come to him on the road of undead plaguing the northern reaches of Arium -- a town called Xania being the chief victim of their work. A monster, as well, rumor had it, terrorized their people. A monster with one eye. Gye'ron assumed a cyclops, but it was so rare for them to have necromantic abiliity. He suspected a puppet master behind it all.

From the same lips which he heard the rumour, he gave a task. A hastily written letter was given to the man, along with a handful of coppers to act as a messenger. It was a simple message, addressed to the Order of Aslan which operated a temple and a training ground in Nexus Prime:

'Dispatch our Lords faithful to Xania. There is word of undead and a monster plaguing the area - a necromancer is likely behind it. Let us do the work of Aslan, and cleanse the land.

May the Prince watch over you,
-Gye'ron Val Oriden'

With that he rode hard toward the town astride his great black Mellan. He was not as heavily armed as he might hope, yet still he was armed enough. His old broadsword with its blackened hilt and ruby- encrusted crossguard was at his left hip, and a hunting knife was sheathed on his right hip. For armour, all he wore was his black lorica segmentata over top a hardened leather jerkin and trousers. It was less than ideal, but given the foe, mobility may be key.

As he rode to the town he attempted to gather those equipped and able to fight that he could find, offering a silver to each and a share of whatever reward and treasure there may be. He couldn't hope to gather many - but even a few brave souls could be enough.

As for preparations with the arcane? He made none. He couldn't afford the exhaustion of his vis being depleted before battle was joined.

 

[Crimson]

Kailin Alyxanda January 17, 2018 04:18 AM

They hadn't intended to come so far north, nor quite so close to Aslangrad, the proximity of which was a source of both distraction and anxiety for Kailin. A fact which may have been the deciding factor for her and Calanon to make their way to Xania, as Kailin would not allow old wounds to dictate her actions.

Then, of course, there was the ever-present curiosity that had led her to make far more than a few foolish choices over the eras. And both were, indeed, strong motivators for Kailin, yet neither had actually been the deciding factor, not for her at least.

No... that honor had gone to the tension that had been riding double with them ever since she and Calanon had decided that some time alone was in order. A decision that had seemed prudent back in Port Alyxandrya, with Niven underfoot - though Kailin could not blame her for that, and would truly not have it otherwise - and them needing to take some space to sort through the new reality in which they were all existing.

It was as if a new sun had entered familiar skies, and though they weren't trying to, she and Calanon had been orbiting cautiously around each other ever since. So when the rumors of undead had reached them, there hadn't been much discussion before they'd turned their mounts north. It may have been cowardly, but she was sure they both felt that some distraction from the turmoil that had just overtaken their lives (and was set to only get more disruptive) would be welcome.

The leather armor she'd bought before their tour of duty playing mercenaries (more like guards) for Sliucha was layered underneath a heavy winter cloak, the hood up over her head and a pair of gloves currently hiding the vambraces. She had spent eras farther north than this when she'd made Paxia her home, and so she'd made sure that both she and Calanon were dressed for the winter weather.

Behind her, her bow had been secured atop her saddlebags, ready to be strung, and a quiver of arrows was strapped across her torso, the fletching peeking out over her right shoulder. In what was a relatively new configuration for her, the small dagger that she carried as a last resort was strapped to her thigh, where she could reach it underneath the heavy protective skirting if need be.

Otherwise, Kailin was not an old hand at this whole armed attack thing, or even the adventure thing. And so she had Calanon at her side, with his sword and sorcery. And her own magic, of course, which she hoped would prove useful.

She was alert as they rode into the small town and eventually found its gathering of those who had answered the call, making their way around the outside edge of the group so that Kailin could speak with someone who had information. Her gaze flickered quickly from face to face as she passed by, and she was surprised to recognize no less than three of the men milling around.

Reaching down, she squeezed Calanon's hand where it had settled lightly on her waist to keep them together, nodding toward a familiar blond, bearded fellow towards the front of the crowd. Her eyes lit at the sight of Moss and she lifted a hand in greeting. Barthelme and Gye'ron both received nods, should they notice her brief stares.

Then, before she approached whoever looked to be in charge, Kailin listened to the questions already being asked and the answers given, as well as the muttering of those close by who were telling and retelling what information had been passed before, rumor or otherwise.

Eventually, she made her way further forward to speak with one of the townsfolk, "excuse me... what healing has been tried on those who were wounded before? I would offer my assistance as a thaumaturge, if the same hasn't already been attempted. See if we might give the poor souls some rest." And, of course, possibly get more detailed information from them than they could currently supply about what they would be facing.

She also intended to stock up on bandages and other basic medical supplies, and refill her canteen with fresh water before they set off to meet their foes.

 

[Crimson]

Diamea January 17, 2018 04:36 AM

The cold Arium.

The region that had once been her home region, before she moved to the warmer sea islands of the Demios cluster.

Darkness clouded her memories of Vortex while her memories of the once growing Sancta Nova felt of reborn. Whichever her memories were, she was back, her adventurer bringing this time her closer Aslangrad. To Xania, on the trail of tales of an undead menace hunting for kills.

Her appearance in the streets of the sea city had gone quite unnoticed, one of the many adventurers, mercenaries and other people coming to the city in search of fame, glory or an easy death, maybe not so easy given the reports of the ones who had survived, if that could be said to be survived. But... wasn't she there for glory too? Maybe, but in truth she was there in search of challenges, in search of something she couldn't really grasp.

She mingled in the gathering party, remaining silent and hiding under the shadow of her cloak as things started moving. She had no one to come by, she was a lone player, a lone soul, without a name, with only a blurry purpose. What she had on herself was everything she could rely on.

A black thick scarf hide the lower part of her face, gloves hid her slender fingers, the dark heavier winter cloak hide her figure as the other black clothes clad her, leather and other fabric mixed togheter. Black was her color, a shadow among the people of this world; only hints of a light skin, somewhat tanned by her living in Demios, and blue could be seen, the blue of her eyes and of her hairs. Maybe hints of gold if light managed to traverse the shadows of her cloak and reflect on her earring.

Speaking of armaments... the plain and the rusty daggers were stripped at her sides, her knife rested in her right boot and the set of throwing knife on her belt, ready to be thrown. This were all her weapons, the material steel on which fight the living world. She had one more ability, but it wasn't one that could be seen with just eyes. Her Arcana power was there waiting to be unleashed.

There wasn't much else she thought she had to prepare for. All her gear was ready, her mind was set for the oncoming onslaught. She just waited, observing who else was around and trying to gauge various people skills and way of doings.

 

[Crimson]

Calanon January 17, 2018 06:51 AM

Arium. How strange that his path kept returning to this inhospitable province. It was a source of discomfort for the elf, as if he needed anything else right then to fray his nerves. When they had left Port Alyxandrya behind some brightenings before, Calanon had felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension at escaping the strange landscape he had found himself in. That they both had found themselves in.

Eyes cut across to his beloved riding alongside him, as they had for much of the journey. He had watched her surreptitiously, unable even on their escape from the evidence of their current situation to push aside the gnawing concern that it brought him. How much she was accepting, taking into their lives on account of him. It weighed on him almost more heavily out here, in the wilds.

He thought they might have turned for home, had they not caught wind of the unrest up here, in the far northern reaches. But when they had, it had seemed almost some unspoken agreement that had turned them both in this direction. For Calanon, it had been harder than almost anything not to have given in to the desire to run from the new reality that had consumed them both in Port Alyx. So this calling had been a blessing, and he found himself eager to turn his focus to the rumoured blight on these lands. And Kailin…perhaps she too sought the diversion of this task.

Upon their arrival in Xania, it was clear they were not the only ones. The cold was bitter here, and the elf was glad of his love’s insistence that they stop and equip themselves accordingly. The cloak he wore was heavier, the hand curled lightly about the waist of his beloved protected by fur lined leather, and beneath the hardened leather armour he had layered up. Still it was fething cold, and his breath hung in mist with every exhale as the pair made their way through the loosely assembled crowds.

Their horses had been left with a feed in the stables of the local tavern, along with a request and the coin to replenish their packs with basic provisions. Calanon wore his sword at his waist, his dagger in his boot as was the norm for the elf. He had taken the time the last darkening to treat both blades and Kailin’s too with the oil he’d been given on his last trip to the province. No better time to test its properties against the undead he had thought grimly as he buffed it into the metal. Though he hoped Kailin would have not cause to even draw her blade. Her magic of course would be her best weapon, as would his.

There were enough familiar faces around for Calanon to wonder exactly how far these tales had spread, and he acknowledged those he knew, only for his eyes to widen a little as he recognised the Governor of Arium, flanked by a vicious looking band of mercenaries. It had been little over an era since the Sylrosian had stumbled haphazardly across the Nodmoor and had encountered the Vysticchi, and there was an excruciatingly vivid recollection of just how out of sorts he had been upon their meeting.

He was only the tiniest bit flustered then, as he listened to the questions being bandied about, the answers given, trying to take in as much as he could about what might lie ahead.

 

[Crimson]

"Xania"

Moss’ unique armor provided ample warmth to his torso but his fingers quickly went numb. No matter, though, for the spellsword as he scanned the quiet village and found a single structure alive with torchlight. (Continued)

Barthelme played the part of the good doctor and mender of minds well enough. It was role he played in many adventures and, let’s face it, misadventures. Could bringing a serpentine serial killer even those odds? We’re about to find out! (Continued)

Barthelme did not have the opportunity or time to make imbuements, yet. Vis left: 34/36. Current active: Invisibility (on Syl). Contamination level/effects: low/none

Calanon was draped in cheap fur but it was a welcomed buffer against the bitter cold. For now, he remained by his beloved’s side, watchful and alert. (Continued)

Kaitlin reached the town seeking answers with his bodyguard in tow. Though she quickly realized that she may be the only Thaumaturge within a hundred leagues. Magic was rare enough, particularly after the recent wars. But magical healers were nearly deified in some backwater towns. And this place was no exception! (Continued)

Gye’ron cut an impressive figure atop his black steed. For a man called the Wolf Imperatis, he definitely dressed for the role. During his ride from one of the highways that intersected Arium, he managed to lure other able-bodied men and mercenaries until he nearly ran out of silvers in his coin purse. Some men responded to calls because they were honor-bound; others preferred the promise of expensive ale and cheap women at the end of a job. (Continued)

Gye'ron has six (6) hirelings of unknown, varying martial skills. They are all equipped with cheap worn armor and weapons. His expenses may count as a reduction against his Wealth if not offset by income

As it were, pickings were slim by the time Sarah rolled around. Most of the wanderers eager for coin had already been recruited by some black knight on a mission. On the plus side, that meant that the hedgemage kept her coin purse full. But that also meant she arrived alone in what looked like the beginnings of an all out battle between the living and the dead. (Continued)

Then, Tiyribi’s Husband arrived. Though not before Faust’s Wife, an Arch Sorceress trying to remain nondescript in a village suddenly filling with heroes from far and wide. (Continued)

Faust has employed a large group50 of skilled mercenaries who were eager to work for the Baron of Vortex and Lord Governor of Arium. He has the option to charge their upkeep against the Treasury or against his own Wealth. They are equipped with fine weapons and good-quality armor.

Vireylda, despite being shorter than most of the brawny, taller-than-average mercenaries and adventurers that seemed to be gathering, quickly found the Prince of Har’oloth. (Continued)

Diamea knew how to live alone in the shadows as quiet as Demiosian ghost spider. So she watched, studied, and waited. (Continued)

EVERYONE:​

One way or another, the heroes, adventurers, and mercenaries found themselves huddled together inside a dank tavern. At one point in its long life, the two-story brick building might have stood proudly along Xania’s marketplace. But long winters and lean summers weathered the building and its occupants. Not to mention the whole zombie epidemic. Fortunately, the uptick in wannabe heroes allowed the innkeeper and his daughter to keep the lights on. A hungry fire burned inside, licking fresh fish into a roast with soup on the side. The brew was cheap but refreshing after a long ride, particularly during a snowy night.

At the bar, Moss was talking to the barkeep who doubled as the innkeep and tripled as the stable master. In spite being barely able to keep up with the sudden surge of guests, the redbearded Vagaran was more than happy to serve paying customers for once.

“Aye, those aren’t stories, lad. An’ I wouldn’t go playing hero if I were you.” Then he sighed when it seemed like Moss had made up his mind. “One of the boys who returned, what was his name?” He turned to his daughter. She was a woman with fire-colored hair who was busy waltzing from one full table to the other, ferrying bread and pitchers of ale.

“Seth, father.” She turned paler when she said his name.

“I watched that lad grow from boyhood. He should have remained a fisher. I told him to stay put.” Half the tavern seemed to be listening in to the barkeep’s tale now. “They went out, more than a dozen of them. And when they came back, they were cut up. Bleeding. Bitten.” He paused and filled another pitcher of ale for his daughter to serve. “That same night they fell with fever. Then the madness struck them. Begged for their families to kill them, was what I was told. Those who died received mercy. The rest ... we keep them under the old church.”

So when Barthelme and Kailin asked to examine the survivors, a few villagers offered to take them to the old church near the outskirts of town.

“They’re in the crypts ...where we used ta’ bury the priests and bishops”, an old woman muttered to both mages. “It was the only thing we could do ...without killin’ our poor boys. None of the herbs and salves or our thoughts and prayers worked, ma’am...”

But a growing crowd of fans and devotees began to swarm around Kailin -- and by extension, Barthelme and his invisible, giant snake monster.

“Is it true? You’re a healer, miss?” “Please save my boy!”

“My baby has a fever! Please, miss, won’t you heal him?” “I have arthritis! And I can barely piss!”

“The last healer said I can’t have sweets! I want a second opinion!”

If the Asylum Researcher and the Thaumaturge didn’t rouse the village elders, the Governor’s sudden and impressive arrival certainly did.

Though dark and gray elves would forever live under the prejudice earned by their ancestors, Faust and Vireylda were greeted politely if not curtly by a group of old humans dressed in old robes and furs. They introduced themselves the town council, though Faust might note that such a governing body did not exist -- at least not on official records. There was supposed to be a thane in Xania, the village was even represented by a regional senator at one point.

“North, Your Excellency”, a bald human said. He was portly and his brow crumbled as he spoke. “On our ancestral burial grounds. Desecrated by these ...spirits.” The other villagers present murmured in agreement and collective defeat. Meanwhile, a scuffle was breaking out near the bar as people jockeyed for their place in line to see the pair of good doctors.

Objectives: "Sensible Healing” - examine the survivors under the old church. "The Purge” - locate and destroy the source of the undead. BONUS: “Monster Hunter” - kill the big bad beast The town of Xania must survive. OOC: Welcome! Please maintain a ‘spoiler box’ with your current equipment. Obviously, your character is limited to what he can carry or bring. You may also use that space to track your Vis. This serves to confirm your Vis level with your moderator. The five "Rounds" will begin as soon as a Player actives the start of the Raid. Players may also uncover different mechanics in the Raid during the thread. I will clearly mark each “Round” as they pass and how many "Rounds" you have left. Your actions / decisions may reduce or increase the number of Rounds left. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact me directly via PM. Thank you and happy adventuring!

 

[Crimson]

He could see the desperation on the villagers’ faces as plainly as his breath materializing before him in the cold winter air. Whatever horrors the Xanians had encountered were certainly real, or at least, real enough to have induced such fear. A part of him wished that he had learned about the incident earlier so that he could have addressed it sooner, but he was nevertheless encouraged to see that others had risen to the challenge of answering the call of their countrymen in the north. And it was far from an insignificant gathering too. No, it appeared that many had traveled far and wide to join them.

“Vireylda,” the Governor of Arium greeted when the slender woman meandered through the swelling crowd to greet him. “On the contrary, it’s very good to see you. I have a feeling that your abilities will be most critical in the coming days, especially if the stories are true.” He aimed a slight smile at the young necromancer. Indeed, if the undead truly plagued the Xanians, then her magic would be paramount. “Try to be discrete though,” he gently cautioned in a quieter tone, “or else someone might accidentally mistake you for the enemy. I don’t think that most of these people have ever seen a necromancer before.”

As he spoke, he noticed several other familiar faces in the crowd, among them an elf named Calanon, whom he had encountered outside Aslangrad many seasons ago, and Diamea, a woman who had adventured with him in the Nightlands a short time prior. He offered a nod to each from afar, mostly because the number of people around him rendered it virtually impossible to reach them. When he spotted Gye’ron, he raised two gloved fingers in the air to greet him from a distance as well. He could not count the number of times that they had shared the battlefield together, sometimes even on opposing sides, but he knew that the human could hold his own.

When the acting town council finally greeted him, he introduced himself and listened closely to their somber words. He was mildly aware of several of the townspeople flocking around a self-proclaimed healer in the meantime, but he kept his attention focused on the portly councilman. “Then north we shall go,” he announced with a firm nod before instinctively glancing to the horizon as if suspecting that it would be some time before they saw Xania again. “I’ll leave ten of my men behind to help guard the town while we're away. If you would be so kind as to provide me with some directions or a guide to the burial grounds, that would be most appreciated. We can leave at once afterwards.”

“If anyone else cares to join us, you’re more than welcome,” he said aloud afterwards. With the invitation extended, he made his way towards the bartender, then deposited a large bag of golden crowns on the counter, more than enough to cover the expenses of everyone inside. “Thank you for accommodating us,” was all he said before returning to his mercenary company and Vireylda.

The importance of good morale before a fight could never be underestimated.

And so he waited with the others for the requested information or a guide and prepared to travel north

 

[Crimson]

Well that was unfortunate. Every man willing to fight along her path towards her destination had already left to go deal with things. That had not been a part of her plans, which meant that she was basically walking into this thing without any particular cards to play. She had always considered herself more of a leader than a fighter, but it seemed that this particular venture would have her gain experience in the latter.

Regardless though, she wasn't about to flee from the encounter. So when the bulk of the gathered forces in Xania decided to move out towards the coming battle, she would simply join them, buckler on her left arm while her sheathed blade was carried in her right hand.

No armor. No tools. No plans. No pawns.




It would be fiiiiiiiiiine.

 

[Crimson]

Had someone told Barthelme that he could either examine the survivors of the last battle, or go hunt the monster, but not both, he definitely would have gone after the monster. As it was, though, the possibility that it had to be one or the other never really occurred to him. He was expecting to investigate this mystery madness, and then go monster hunting armed with whatever knowledge he might have gained. But if he was doomed to be disappointed in that, oh well! Such was the nature of the Nightmare.

Anyway, Barthelme had declared his intention to examine the surivors on behalf of the asylum, so that was what he would do.

"Yes," Barthelme said to the first peasant who had offered to be his guide. "Kindly escort me to these crypts of yours."

Hopefully he could just slip out before the crowd of Thaumaturge-admirers had even finished forming. They were interested in her, after all, not him. Barthelme would try to ease his way our with some Journeyman Mind Control rigged up to subtly direct the people in his immediate vicinity to make way and let him pass. After all, why wouldn't they? If they let him go by there would be more room to crowd in around their newfound idol over there. Also, given Sylaphormes' predatory aura, they probably wouldn't want to be hanging around too close to her (and therefore, Barthelme) anyway. Still, Barthelme would use as much Mind Control as he had to for crowd control purposes in order to get out of there. He knew very well that if someone went and tripped over Sylaphormes the situation could turn ugly fast.

"Make way, please. You may direct all healthcare-related inquiries to the lady there. No, I am not that kind of a healer. Pardon me..."

If he could only make it to the crypts, Barthelme's plan remained the same as before. Scan the brains of the monster's victims with his Sentinel spells. Try to acquire their memories of the earlier battle with his Serewood Crystal. Have Sylaphormes take a slither through their nightmares, if any of the survivors were sleeping or unconscious.

 

[Crimson]

Desperation wasn’t a stranger to her. In her travels she’d seen it far more than she would have liked. People scraping for what little they had, fighting for the ability to make it another day. She tried not to think about it. There was no use getting emotional when she couldn’t currently do anything about it.
Soon though.

At least there was one person she knew here. She never understood why Faust treated her more like an equal than her far lower station, but she wasn’t going to question it. I mean he even told me to stop calling him by the honorific before. She shook her head slightly, as if trying to physically shake out the thoughts. Personal interactions were always difficult for her, so it was probably some facet she wasn’t aware of.

Regardless, she smirked ruefully. There was the familiar sting, the one that surged forth from the depths to harass her, every time the need for secrecy was discussed. At his tone the image of the massive army suddenly turning on her reared it’s head, and she tried to dismiss it, slightly hysterical thoughts not withstanding “ I’d wager you are right. If it’s in my power they will continue in their ignorance.” She didn’t want to think about the alternative. “I thank you for the warning, however it does bear the question.” Here she gestured to his band of mercenaries. “Do you imagine it would be a problem for them? I would join your company if you’d have me, but not if it would cause disruption, and more unpleasant things.”

She stayed in the background as things progressed, though did inquire as to a guide, if one was forthcoming. Once done she returned to the High Lord’s small army. She was sure that she was sticking out like a sore thumb. Heavily armed, battle hardened warriors around her much smaller form. Positive thoughts Vree. Positive thoughts. It quelled her anxiety, but only slightly.

 

[Crimson]

Remaining in the background had its disadvantages, as the pale elf was quickly finding, and she had some measure of difficulty staying with the gathering throng of adventurers as they entered the town while still trying to keep cautious distance from their head. That her husband was quick to take charge of the situation was not in the least bit surprising; it was his province and home, after all, and responsibility was in his nature. It did however make her task of maintaining her farce, as flimsy as it was, that much more difficult. Over a decade of familiarity with one another would have made even the smallest gesture or word glare too obviously, and she had no intention of being discovered just yet.

Thus while information was scarce while keeping to the edges of the crowd, it did afford her some measure of anonymity. Xania was a town in panic, as soon became evident, and there were enough people desperately seeking help from some, or even any, source that they were quick enough to describe the situation. Undead reeked of necromancy, an art that every moral and tradition with which she had been bred since birth nauseated her at her core. The Empire had and continued to suffer far too many wounds and it brought out the worst natures of those that sought to capitalize upon its weakness.

Once more curiosity drew her glance in her beloved’s direction which inevitably led it to light upon another familiar visage standing ever so close. It had been eras since she had last seen the other Esh’lahier woman in Har’oloth with her request to revolutionize the Collegium and legalize necromancy across the Empire. She thought then that the child was naïve and misguided, but little more than yet another petitioner among the many that crossed a provincial governor’s door. Now, though, it seemed that her acquaintance with said governor had been maintained as Vireylda was here as part of Faust’s company—and the quiet figure in the back of the crowd found the situation odd, to say the least, and unexpected perhaps, too.

Yet her attention was again drawn back as the villagers described their circumstances, the victims, and the threat. While most of the information was directed toward the Ariumite governor and his party, there was enough overflow with the rest of the crowds to gather the main points of information. The graveyard seemed to be the source of the problem, as was to be expected with the dark art of undeath. Purposely she waited until Faust’s party had made their intentions known and begun their travel north before she followed a great distance behind, determining that ending the threat would be the simplest way toward a complete solution.

 

[Crimson]

The dance had begun for the Hunter Imperatis, once known as the Wolf of the Legions. There was nothing in Telath that invigorated him as much as tracking down and eradicating the denizens of evil, those foul worshipers of Aeternia and the demi-God Planetars, and all of their agents. It was his purpose in life. Since leaving the Legions, it was the one thing that kept him moving forward. Amidst the fear of the peasants and the chaos of gathering adventurers and mercenaries, he sat atop his black horse with an enormous grin stretching from ear to ear and a wild look in his steel grey eyes. Wisps of black, curly hair - highlighted with the purple of the Quel'anthasan people - blew across his face. The spirit of the wolf was gone, but the animal in him was still alive and well.

"Gather torches, light them, and get some pitch if there's any to be had," he instructed the six warriors he'd recruited along the way.

If he had learned one thing over his eras of hunting monsters and demons, it was that lighting their dens and hideouts on fire could save you a lot of trouble. That and burning corpses to ash typically made them poor foot soldiers for necromancers. He had heard the man tell Faust, one of the most renowned warriors in the history of the Empire, that the source of the undead activity was an ancient burial ground. The typical haunts of necromancers. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have the opportunity to claim the life of an acolyte of one of the Aeternian Gods. The thought of it caused a stirring in his loins.

His plan was simple, though he would leave it unspoken amongst the people of Xania. He and his party would burn their burial grounds if they had to. There was no sacrifice too great in the conflict between good and evil. Ever.

Gye'ron had raised his hand in return when Faust had, and now that they seemed to be set out in the same direction and bound to share the field of battle yet again, he rode closer. The Esh'lahier womanVireylda who accompanied the Governor of Arium did not escape the Hunter Imperatis' notice. He could only assume that she was the famed Governor of Centripax, and wife of Faust. From atop his horse if offered a curt bow to the pair, "Serale Faust, I'm honoured to share the field with you once again."

His eyes turned to Vireylda, "And it's an honour to meet you, Your Eminence. I never thought I'd see Faust's wife taking up arms with him."

With that his attention turned back to Faust to offer a plan, "Perhaps we can co-ordinate. If you and your force approach from the south of the burial site, my men and I can circle around and approach from the north. It may make little different against the undead, but they must have a master. Perhaps we can catch that foul necromancer unawares." There was venom in his words as he came to the last sentence.

He would ride out with his six men in tow, following the guide and Faust's entourage, then breaking off at the appropriate time to circle around as he had earlier suggested. His small host was poorly armed, but they were motivated enough. They may die that brightening, as might their faux-commander, but if their sacrifice brought victory then their admittance to Sonos would be all the reward they could ever hope for.

Besides, fire would be their great equalizer. He kissed the triangular scar on his left wrist, remembering and paying homage to his oath in the Temple of Divine Sacrifice as he rode to the defense of Aetheria and it's Empire on Telath.

 

[Crimson]

Kailin, too, had not expected to have to choose between attempting a healing and going with the main party. And still did not intend to do so, if she could avoid it.

Indeed, between the darkness that had fallenUnless I TOTALLY misread Stray's last post outside the tavern and the snow that was already accumulating, the Thaumaturge had felt certain that she would have the night to do what she could for the town's injured, and perhaps learn something useful before setting off when morning came. But as she was being increasingly surrounded by a throng of townsfolk complaining of their ills, she heard the Vysticchi that had brought so many men with him saying they were going to be heading out, and soon, extending the invitation to others to join.

"That sounds terrible," she directed the slightly distracted platitude to the space between the one who claimed not to be able to piss and the one who couldn't have sweets, before reaching back to clasp hands tightly with Calanon, fearing she would otherwise lose him in the crush.

"Please, everyone," she said firmly into the babble, then, expression falling into the calmly compassionate one she'd utilized so many times with crowds in Paxia, "I am in no hurry to leave Xania, and will do what I can for all of you once the larger threat has been dealt with. I promise." Her gaze flickered around those closest to her, then, meeting each hopeful gaze with a unwaveringly earnest one of her own. "But first, I need to use what gifts I have to see if I can help the men who risked their lives to protect you. Please, could someone show me the way to the crypts? I seem to have lost my guide." As well as Barthelme, who she'd noticed seemed very adept at making his way through a throng.

Having said as much, Kailin would repeat a truncated version of the same as often as needed as she tried to push gently but with determination through the crowd. She'd never experienced such a thing before, and was quickly learning the value of discretion.

Once free of the press of bodies, Kailin would ask her newest guide to wait for her, then make her way back toward Faust, trying to intercept him between the bar and his mercenaries. Whenever she managed to get close, she would step in and speak just loudly enough for him to hear.

"My lord," she began politely - for she didn't know who he was but anyone able to afford the bag she'd seen him drop on the bar and the men at his back must be worthy of at least that title - but with some concern, "it is dark now, and snowing. I wonder whether it would be better to leave en masse in the morning, when those of us not blessed with the ability to see in the dark would be less prone to tripping over our own feet while trying to avoid the undead."

"It would also give us a chance to see what we can learn from the survivors," she continued, eyes shifting to focus past him for a moment at the mercenaries he'd brought with, before settling on Faust again as recognition stirred inside. "I trust you know your business... but my business is in keeping people alive, and running off into the dark with monsters about seems a sure way to lose more men than absolutely necessary." One dark brow lifted above a softly amused set of pale green eyes, and she waited for his response as she tried - and failed - to place him.

 

[Crimson]

Moss watched as more and more people arrived in the tavern. A few faces he recognised, making eye contact with most, and offering nods to some. He was especially pleased to see that Kailin and Calanon were there. Though he didn't like the idea of either of them encountering too much danger - his pseudo- sister especially - it felt good to know there would be someone who he knew he could trust in the worst of circumstances.

Questions were asked, answers were given, and the mystic tried to keep up with everything that was said. But there was a sense of confusion within the room, a throng forming around Kailin and another he knew, Barthelme, and the pair risked being separated from the rest of the adventuring group that had crowded into the building along with many of the townspeople.

Then Faust was suggesting they start their approach during the winter darkening, accompanied by blackness and falling snow. The mere thought was chilling enough to make Moss edge himself closer to the fire. If, as Kailin was suggesting, the group was to head out of town the following morning, he would make sure to ask one of the townspeople for a few tips to ensure his fingers didn't freeze over when they tried to draw a sword. He'd also ensure he wore his gambeson before they left - anything extra to improve his chances of survival.

With a little warmth working its way back into the very tips of his fingers, the human looked about the room, dark grey eyes searching for Calanon. When he spied the elf, he worked his way through the crowd as best he could until he could speak to his friend.

"Vedui, Cal. Things are moving so quickly," he spoke with a tone that showed his surprise, "but there are others who have brought soldiers with them."

The human looked over his shoulder at his friend's lover, before turning back to face the Sylrosian and lean closer, dropping the volume of his deep voice.

"I wonder...if Kailin was to stay and treat the survivors, do you suppose you'll stay with her?"

Moss' expression was lined by uncertainty.

"Because...if you do, I will do likewise. I would have your blade alongside mine, mellonfriend."

 

[Crimson]

Though he was glad to step inside and out of the bite of an Arium Winter, Calanon soon found himself claustrophobic and irked by the press of bodies around him. Or, around Kailin if he were being specific, for his love’s proclamation of her skills seemed to have inspired some kind of adoration in the townsfolk who were now listing their ailments for all and sundry to hear. And to the elf’s delight, he found himself caught in the swell of people, with her clinging on to his hand. Had it not been for task that lay ahead of them he would have teleported out of there rather than endure the jostling and uninvited insight into the villagers’ health issues.

His elbows were sharp then, when he attempted to extricate himself and Kailin from the group, noting the activity that seemed to be going on in the rest of the tavern. Bustle that would hopefully have more relevance to what had actually drawn them to the town in the first instance. He released Kailin’s hand as he broke free, taking a moment to still his irritability with the townsfolk. They were desperate he reminded himself and it was them that he had come to aid. Though with the Undead rather than problems pissing.

Watching as Kailin made her way toward the Vysticchi Lord, Calanon’s focus shifted as he saw Moss approaching, and the frown that had graced his features as he wondered exactly what his love had to say to the Governor of Arium melted away to be replaced by a more neutral expression.
“ Mae Govannen, Moss”. Not unaware that there seemed to be those who were keen to begin their endeavour almost immediately, the elf nodded along with his friend’s observations, though the question that was asked of him left him rather torn.

“ I…was wondering the same myself” he admitted, with another glance toward Kailin. He was no healer after all, what skills he had would be better employed elsewhere he was sure. But equally, the idea of leaving her here to deal with – by the sounds of it – hostile survivors of the recent attacks? Well that didn’t sit particularly easily with him either. The elf worried the inside of his cheek with his teeth, eventually sighing a little as he looked back to Moss.

“ I cannot do anything else” he admitted, knowing that were he to go ahead with a scouting party or the like his thoughts would wander dangerously back here anyway, which would be of no use to anyone. “ So yes, I suppose I will stay until Kailin and Barthelme have had chance at least to speak to the survivors. Your company would be welcome though. And if what we hear is true, I expect there will be opportunity enough to address the source of the problem…”

And at least if others were to go on ahead, Moss and he would be able to offer some protection to the village, with the men that the Governor had said he would leave.

 

[Crimson]

"Melons & Enemies"

Faust greeted the necromancer with the practiced politeness of a politician and an honest-to-goodness good guy. Then he invited those gathered to join him and his company to rid Xania of the undead once and for all! (Continued)

”You and Whose Army?” Secret Achievement Unlocked! The Governor’s’ reputation increases in Xania and neighboring villages. Mercenary orders: 40 with Faust, 10 to guard Xania. Glory of the Conqueror active.

Vireylda agreed that showing off her necromancy might be bad for her health. Though being around the Prince of Har’oloth was definitely a boon for the dread mage. Especially around all these heavily armored folks in the Baron’s entourage. (Continued)

Sarah happily joined the Governor-General of Arium and his competent and highly armed group of dudes. This was going to be fiiiiiiiine, indeed!(Continued)

Tiyribi happily remained in the background as opposed to her usual position on top. Because she is governor of a province and is therefore the chief executive. She watched the necromancer join her husband’s mercenary company and decided to wait and listen. (Continued)

Gye’ron ordered his men fetch torches and pitch and they scrambled to do just that. Though the former Imperatis did not wait long before introducing himself to the most important people in the room -- that being the Governor-General and his presumed wife. Then Gye’ron proceeded to talk shop with the Prince of Har’oloth, determined to make short work of the undead and their master. (Continued)

Mercenaries: 6 with Gye’ron.

Kailin was eager to leave the masses and their gnashing of teeth, but not before she had a word with the dark elf who looked like he was in charge. (Continued)

”Get Your Rational Ideas Outta Here!” Secret Achievement Unlocked.

Moss and Calanon chatted, calling each other ‘melon’ and whatever bros did to signify a friendship. They also decided to hang out with Kailin. (Continued)

Diamea remained where she was, watching, waiting, being mysterious. (Continued)

--

Barthelme abruptly excused himself from the gathered, sickly masses who were threatening to trample each other to get an appointment with the good doctor. The Twisted sensed his Big Sister hungrily regarding the growing crowd. How long had it been since her last meal? Did she like the taste of peasant soup in the winter? Better get to those crypts quickly before things get out of hand! (Continued)

”I am Not That Kind of Doctor” Secret Achievement unlocked! Vis left: 34/36. Current active: Invisibility (on Syl). Contamination level/effects: low/none

EVERYONE:​

While the gathered mercenaries and adventurers decided whether to leave in the dead of the darkening or wait until sunrise, Barthelme managed to slip out with his guide.

The old church was an ancient structure dating back to the founding of Xania. It underwent significant repairs only twice in its long history: once when the Church of Aslan sent its first missionaries and a second time when the Church of Faith tried to convert everyone. But those events were separated by generations and the polished stone had long since turned dark and mossy. No wonder the church was used primarily for its crypt where important parishioners and church leaders could be buried with some dignity.

It was a humble, one-story building that looked crooked, its roof slacking in some areas. The nun leading Barthelme snatched a lantern near the entrance before they began walking down the spiral stone staircase leading deeper beneath the chapel. It smelled like rotten wood and ...Barthelme heard them almost instantly. His Big Sister bristled with excitement behind them, silently slithering along.

Gnawing and struggling against the chains and rope on their wrists and ankles were four figures who used to be young, able-bodied men. What was left of them were haggard creatures wallowing in their own filth and bits of what looked like animal innards. A foul stench made the crypts somehow seem worse.

“It’s … it’s all they’ll eat”, the nun muttered darkly.

But the broken creatures suddenly seemed more alert and aggressive when Barthelme and the nun arrived. They continued to fight against their restraints, with one of the afflicted audibly dislocating his own shoulder in the attempt.

“C-Can you help them, doctor?”

--
Back at the tavern, Diamea was the only one unoccupied with strategy or conversation to notice a sudden and unnatural drop in ambient temperature. Faust, Tiyribi, Gye’ron, and the others noticed it a few moments later when the roaring fire sputtered and died -- along with the other torches in the room, throwing the entire room into eerie darkness.

In the silence, they heard faint screams rippling from house to house beyond the tavern’s brick walls.

"I can't see!"

"What's going on? Are they here?"

"I forgot my diabetes herbs at the house!"

Objectives: "Sensible Healing” - examine the survivors under the old church. "The Purge” - locate and destroy the source of the undead. BONUS: “Monster Hunter” - kill the big bad beast The town of Xania must survive.