Feeling woozy, temperamental, and with the hilt of his cleaver clutched tight in hand, but still strapped to his back, Belial awaits Arbor's explanation. At his side, Cronn and Briar focus their interests on a greater threat; The crowd of village-dwelling patrons. All of whom seem to be awaiting some sort of command before they engage in what is- most certainly- an ambush. One which has long been thought out... and already at play. With little choice being offered, Briar removes his crossbow from a pocket holster and swiftly flicks a latch open just below the sight bridge. As he does so, both limbs at the front snap forward and the crossbow splits entirely down the middle, creating two identical short swords, with one still having the string attached. Cronn, following suit, draws his ax at the right, and a pistol at the left.
"I bring the likes of you into my business... my home, and this is how you repay my hospitality? Accusative statements portrayed as questions? You knew the truth before you even set foot in our safe haven." Arbor turns back towards the Nostrum, his upper lip now quivering with rage, and slams a fist against the map. "Your kind was never meant to find us here!" Stepping back and quickly raising a pistol of his own, he squeezes at the trigger, but before he has the chance to fire, Cronn's ax severs his arm from his body.
Immediately following Cronn's engagement, Belial unfastens the strap across his back and brings the cleaver down. Arbor's initial scream is cut short as the cleaver's teeth shred his collarbone and continue through his chest cavity. Only stopping as the wooden shaft knocks against the bar. Ripping it free, Belial cranks the handle, folding it parallel to the blade's spine, and converting the weapon into a violent, short-ranged instrument. Appalled by what has been done and enraged, all the same, the villagers shriek with beastly cries as they charge at the Nostrum. Those who take the lead being the most human of them, and those in the back standing at nearly twice the height, with tufts of thick hair traveling up the lengths of their arms, and some, even the face. With tables and chairs being knocked aside by the larger of the fiends, the trio dispatches the closest and smallest in a hasty manner, desperately fighting against the growing odds of being overwhelmed, as the largest get nearer and nearer. Acknowledging Belial's deteriorating state as the booze ravage his mind, Cronn fires rounds of Quicksilver into the horde at his own expense but keeps certain that not one bullet is wasted in the process. As Belial stumbles about, sloppily cutting his way through those that make it to him, and Cronn lessens the numbers from slightly afar, Briar takes it upon himself to find a way for them to escape the tavern. Thinking fast and sticking to what he knows best, he smashes a bottle and drenches both blades in the spill. With all four sides dripping wet, he proceeds to strike the flint plate of each with the other, setting both ablaze. With the largest of the beasts getting nearer, and in numbers far too great to manage in such conditions, Briar grips at the string of his crossbow and slings the attached blade at the wall of shelves behind the counter. Just before the blade will surely hit the wall, he yanks it away, running it as parallel as possible and shattering dozens of bottles in the process. As each burst open, the contents combust; Pouring onto wooden surfaces and splashing out towards the beasts. Just as the effort seems hopeless, the largest beasts recoil. Just the sight of such flames spontaneously appearing is enough to set them back.
"Head for the door!" Briar shouts to the others, motioning with the point of one blade. Cronn nods in response to the command and rushes past cowering giants with Belial right behind him. Once both are at the exit, Briar tugs at the string once again, having gotten the blade caught in the shelves' framework. With one hard pull, the blade comes free, and with it, two of the shelves. As they hit the ground, what bottles remained on them erupt and the beasts tremble. Rushing for the door himself, Briar is suddenly cut off by a whimpering giant, that fearfully crawls on all fours in an effort to avoid the flames now licking at the beams above. As its torso makes it outside, with the head still turned to look back at what chaos unfolds within, and Briar being in the midst, its body collapses. Briar starts towards the others once more, finding that Cronn had decapitated the beast in the middle of its escape as he runs across its back and out the door. "Help me move it out of the way!"
"I've got it." Extending his cleaver and walking through the beast's blood, Belial digs the teeth deep into its spinal column, using his weapon as leverage to drag the monster aside. Once he finishes in doing so, Briar pulls the door shut, rebuilds his crossbow, and uses the stock to knock out each window on either end of the porch. As the three step back to admire their work, the agonizing screams from within pierce their ears, but it doesn't take long for the creatures to wither. Becoming nothing more than pounds of ash and brittle bones.
Twang!
Turning harshly on their heals, weapons at the ready, they're met with the woeful face of Gregory, and the pail he had been given by Arbor, rolling against the stones at his heels. The beastly giant lacks all awareness of the men standing before him, as he watches all that he has seemingly ever known ascend in a cloud of black. Briar looks to the others for a moment, and they do the same in return. Uncertain curiosity compels them to wait, rather than strike him down where he stands. Tears form in the corners of his pearly eyes, mere moments before he drops to his knees and clutches at the sides of his head.
"I... only went to feed the birds. Arbor... oh... Arbor!" What little piece of humanity still lingers beneath the furry flesh grieves its losses and the ties it had to this place. Briar, Cronn, and Belial lower their weapons. As any Nostrum would know, a beast such as this out on its own is no threat. Time alone will consume it. Splitting off as evenly as they can, they walk a safe distance around Him; The soul resident of this ersatz village. "What other than a beast... could cause such a ravaging?" Ignoring his rambles as best they can, the three continue on their way. Gregory speaks once more upon seeing Belial with a bottle of the same beverage from the tavern, in hand, being sipped on. "What, but a beast, could indulge in the blood of man? What, but a beast? What, but my birds?"
With uniforms stained by the ascendancy of their hunts, the trio venture through forests and bogs lining the foot of a great mountain. A mountain into which The Council's accommodations have been carved. Along with a pass that serves no other purpose but to give direction towards the board members themselves. Scaling the rocky surface and reaching the crest with aching calves and wintry pink skin, they peer through gusts of wind-swept snow, spotting icy grey bricks and worn, arched cedar double doors; Home of the Pureblood Covenant. As the grand doors creak loudly against their hinges, raging winds assist in pushing them apart. Halls within cool as a draft rushes through them, causing candle flames to flicker and those residing inside to close themselves off from the open corridors. Nearing the center of a great hall, their shivers start to subside, and warmth from several fireplaces turns the frost on their weapons into droplets that speckle the marble floors. As the aroma of roasted
With some consultation and a more than fair filling of mixed meats and porridge on his side, Belial joins in on Briar and Cronn's bull sessions, boosting his spirits and the trio's morale overall. As Devough and an assisting servant bring out a gracious helping of broth-drenched turkey and a pot full of boiled, seasoned greens, the three give their thanks and begin picking at the feast bestowed before them. As they do so, Briar catches a glimpse of Belial filling his wine-stained chalice with a foreign beverage that had been tucked away in a metallic flask at his side."What antics might you not be sharing with us?" Briar asks with amusement in his voice, pointing down at the container."Ah, it's nothing." Belial explains. "Just some of the brew Arbor introduced to us.""And you think that a wise choice of drink, given the circumstances?" Cronn cocks a brow as he strips a sliver of dark meat off the bone, keeping his eyes locked on Belial as he does so."Well, it may be pungent, but i
With dusk approaching, numerous Nostrum awaken speaking in whispers, before rushing out of the quarters. As his mattress shifts from the weight of a bunk-mate hurrying off, Briar groggily pulls himself up and rubs his eyes. Once they're open again, he looks in the direction of the man that woke him, catching only a glimpse of his feet as he rounds a corner and darts down the hall. Curious as to what has alerted the others, and seeing that neither Belial nor Cronn are in their bunks any longer, he lifts himself up and follows the man's trail. With only the sound of bare skin slapping stone to guide him, he keeps as close as he can to the other but inevitably loses them among the corridors. Stopping at a point where the hall splits in opposite directions, he pauses and looks towards both ends before hearing a large door knock against its frame. Turning to the left, he picks up speed once again. Then, pushes through the same door the bank-mate did prior. As the light of a burning brazier
Drooping vines and clover-colored leaves of mossy, twisted branches canopy mucky lands. Clusters of cattails and whiskery ferns litter the boggy soil, giving way only where they must, but never where they should. As still, damp air brings about a layer of sluggish fog, the chirps of frogs and other pestilent critters fill the void. With nothing to fear in their own domain, they stop not when in the presence of what they find to be familiar, yet curiosity brings their chatter to a halt. A trail of silence is crafted, slithering through the marsh much like a serpent, whilst lacking the actual form. In the midst of it all, three orbs of light flicker about. Each being in possession of a predator unknown to the local wildlife; Mankind.Keeping their feet as dry as they can, the Nostrum tread through deep puddles and tall foliage. Being aware of their surroundings, they avoid the largest of the pools. For what lies beneath them may be worse than what has already been discovered above them.
"Do you find it strange, Briar? That The Council would permit us to leave in place of others, even when we were at the heart of a present threat?""Perhaps that's why they would rather us be away." Briar raises the Kneller's bell in his hand and turns it about as he speaks. "If the Great Beast has picked up Belial's scent, it would be best to remove him from the current situation.""How might that be?""Well," he begins, clutching the bell's clapper in his hand and twisting it back and forth, "that depends on what remains unspoken. Perhaps, they wish to preserve his safety. Sending him off with beliefs that the beast hasn't taken hold of his scent would give him a chance at recovering. Or...," he pauses, snaps the thick metal apart, and tosses the clapper aside, "they have hopes that the beast will trail the scent." Slinging a rope over his shoulder, he ties both ends together. Then, loops a portion around the handle, pulls it tight, and lets the bell fall securely to his side. "Who a
Sitting upright on a mossy log, Belial sips at a wooden mug, letting steam roll up his face as it abandons the warm, scented concoction within. Surrounding marshlands offer only the faint chirps of insects to him as he awaits the return of Briar and Cronn. Having been informed of Briar's findings, he remains patient as the moon begins to fall. Allowing himself to appreciate the moment of peace he has been given. A brief period lacking in responsibility, purpose, and all other ties humanity has forced upon him. He sighs with relief and tranquility, allowing his eyes to fall shut for a moment, only to open them again as images of his torment throw themselves across the backs of his eyelids. He stares ahead blankly as they fade back into the abysmal parts of his mind. Then, sips at the mug once more.A sudden shift in wildlife activity causes his ears to perk up. Listening intently, he manages to distinguish the sound of approaching footsteps with slight wetness about them; Roughly an ei
Tucked behind the thicket with a knee dug deep into loosening soil, Briar guides the point of a nocked arrow towards the heart of a red beacon. Ahead of him, squatting on a low hanging tree branch, Cronn stalks the glow as well. With his ax fashioned in its two-handed state, he clutches at the handle- with one set of knuckles wrapped around the base, and the other, just below its heel- awaiting Belial's approach from the west, just beyond where the glow dissipates. With his own weapon still holstered, Belial rolls a pebble between his fingers, keeping focused on The Kneller's repetitive walking motions whilst Cronn surveys him from above; Ready to call out if anything unsuspected approaches. As The Kneller turns back in Cronn's direction, oblivious to the looming threat the three pose to her, Belial slings the pebble away. With a twang, the pebble bounces off another branch, catching The Kneller's attention. She turns quickly to her left, keeping the bell outstretched- chilling melody
Slick soles hurry along smooth stone as the thighs that carry them ache from a not-long-passed hike up mountain trails. Tiring lungs that burn more with each new breath continue to work, struggling to bring the trio to Achlys' chambers. Others within the keep's walls- be it servants, councilmen, vain informants, or other Nostrum- watch them pass with curious eyes, but do not dare to stop them for answers. Briar's lead and expression alone make the situation's urgency undeniably clear, and his determination even more so. As they approach the chamber door, two more Nostrum make themselves known; Standing up from a nearby bench and abandoning the conversation at hand, the men block off Achlys' door with their hands on open holsters."What's going on?" Cronn wonders, having never seen guards posted in such a place."Halt!" One of the men demands, adjusting his stance to display authority."Convener Achlys will not be accepting visitors at this time. State your business and we will pass it