Nostrum: Tales of Valor

Final Pursuit

With a wall of flames roaring only a few hundred feet behind them, they idly watch what lays up ahead. Red mist forms in small puffs, being pushed outwards like blood on water, as something near the center stirs it about. A metallic instrument rises above the cloud, then falls and vibrates in the midst of it all, creating yet another puff. With each, the illuminated face of a Kneller gazes back at them through soulless, unblinking eyes. The men notice her curious posture almost immediately upon seeing her; Hunkered forward with labored breathing, she continues to ring the bell in an almost impatient manner. Her bony knuckles knock together with the force she continues to ring with, causing each chime to be even louder than the previous. Realizing the threat this poses to them, the men attempt to catch their breath as quickly as possible, eager to engage. Once the burning in his chest has subsided, Belial is the first to step forward. Gripping tightly at the handle of his cleaver, he bolts ahead of the others, who have begun advancing, too. Once Briar has caught up, he takes another look at The Kneller's face, which he could now swear... is grinning at them. This strange expression puts him on high alert. Never, in all the time he has come across these women, has one reacted in such a way. Allowing himself to fall back a few feet, he begins looking towards the nearby treeline. Searching for anything that seems out of place as Cronn surpasses him. Before he even has the time to finish surveying, he hears the grinding of serrated edges against bone, and the woman lets out a pained cry. One look towards the others and it is clear that Belial has taken it upon himself to be the one who kills The Kneller.

"Something's not right here." He states, mostly to himself. Watching Belial sink the cleaver deep into The Kneller's chest cavity for a third time before ripping it free, he hears the bell continue to chime in the woman's deathly grip as she is dragged across the ground. All other sounds seem to vanish for a moment as he focuses in on the instrument, now noticing something about its resonance. As the bell jerks right, the sound is fairly normal, but as it jerks left, something seems to muffle it. "Wait." As the body falls limp, Belial reaches out and snatches the bell from its twitching fingers, allowing it to clink about a few more times before he grips the clapper inside. "Wait!" With a single pull, the clapper comes free, but Belial's victorious smile quickly turns to a look of confusion. Briar moves towards them with haste, seeing that Cronn is not yet aware of what has happened, as he is still prying his ax from The Kneller's severed throat. "Belial, cover your nose! COVER YOUR NOSE!" Giving Briar only the briefest of glances, he uncurls his fingers and looks into his palm.

Clumps of pulverized fungi break away from the clapper and roll about in his hand as he begins to recognize what it is. As realization sets in, the feeling of doom washes over him.

"Not here, not yet!" Plugging his nostrils with a free hand, he tosses the clapper away. Not knowing what to do with the other, he simply holds it out as far away from his body as he can. Almost immediately, Cronn pulls the mask from his own face and tightly bounds the contaminated hand. Whilst Briar sifts through the woman's pockets. Attempting to locate the cloth that would have encased the fungi prior to them encountering it.

"Where is it? Where is it!?" Throwing a full fist into each blood-stained pocket, he aggressively seeks after the fabric, but to no avail. "Belial, look at me!" With the squinting man now facing him and going blue in the face from lack of oxygen as the aroma stings his eyes, Briar picks up the crossbow he had dropped on the ground during his search and points towards the plate of flint that had been built into it, right behind the bowstring. With Belial looking towards what he is pointing at and then back at him, Briar explains, with deep regret in his voice, what they must do next. "We have to burn it." Belial shakes his head aggressively and attempts to pull away from Cronn, but the grip is far too strong and his anchored feet keep him steady under Belial's struggling. "It's the only way, I'm sorry." Pulling the bottle of pungent alcohol from Belial's belt, Briar begins pouring it over the mask that snares Belial's fist. Then, with it completely soaked, he pulls an arrow from his quiver and plants its head against the flint.

"Is there really nothing else we can do?" Cronn asks through gritted, desperate teeth.

"Not unless we were to cut it off, but we can save it this way." Briar looks back at Belial, who is now purple and pulling harder than ever before at Cronn's waning grip on him. "This is going to hurt like hell. Forgive me." With a single flick of his wrist, the black cloth ignites.

Cronn immediately lets go, having managed to tie a tight knot in the cloth before it had caught fire. Stepping back and having been partially drenched in alcohol as well, he drops to his knees; Feverishly plucking grass out by the roots and rubbing the soil-covered ends against each soaked area, he watches Belial panic, attempting to put himself out before the flames reach his skin, but the screams that follow tell only of his failure to do so. Briar joins Cronn, collecting as much loose, dry soil as he can in a small pouch at his side. Once the flames have climbed the length of Belial's forearm, the men dive on him, again. Cronn knocks him to the ground, forcing the burning limb outwards as Belial lays on his stomach, still screaming into the Earth below. Briar, who has managed to fill even his largest side pockets, begins pouring the cool contents over the charred cloth, which now reeks of burning flesh. Once all the soil has been applied, he kneels down and presses it against Belial's wound, ensuring that the flame underneath has died. Then, he and Cronn flip Belial over, exposing the mixed look of searing pain and terror that has consumed him.

"Open your mouth, quickly!" Briar demands, pitying the man for what he has done to him. Belial ignores the order, clenching a shaky jaw tightly, along with his eyes. Seeing no other option, Briar squeezes the wound with his nails, causing Belial to recoil and scream again. As his lips part, a vial is dumped in. Once the gurgling and choking subside, Belial begins to calm himself, now nursing the potion as it is given to him. "You're going to be alright, just stay calm! Just stay calm." Popping the cork off another vial, and being thankful for having restocked at Keep, he waits for Belial to finish the first in his relaxing state.

"I'm going to let off you now." Cronn informs, loosening his grip on the shaking mass. "Stay still. Let yourself recover."

Belial nods his head, still keeping both eyes clenched shut. With Cronn now off his chest, he takes in a much-needed breath and allows himself to sprawl out across the ground, with Briar continuing to force-feed him the vials. He was certain, at this rate, he would already be recovered within the hour, but said nothing of the sort to the others.

"The more I can make them waste on me now, the better."

"Cronn, would you mind making us a small fire? We could use as much protection as we can get right now."

"Of course." With a nod, Cronn begins trailing off into the fog, searching for firewood, and squinting as he goes. Once he is out of sight, Briar looks back at Belial, then at the Kneller's husk.

"Fortunately, that was the last of them for us." As Belial remains quiet, only offering up the sound of his raspy breathing, Briar continues to speak to him. Offering anything that he can to keep Belial's mind off the pain. "Once we get back, and Yuler returns, we can regroup. Perhaps, stick to Keep for a while and give ourselves some time off the field. Hm?" Still, Belial does not speak. "I'm thinking we can head back to that tavern sometime as well. Refill your flask an-"

"How long have you known?"

Taken aback, Briar looks down at his partner with unblinking eyes and parted teeth. Unsure of how to approach such a question.

"I... we've... known a long time."

"How?"

"Surely... you knew the sedatives and sweats would give it away?"

"Hence, why I ventured to the ward alone." Belial coughs as a bit of the liquid runs against his windpipe on the way down, but regains himself and raises his head, signaling for another.

"I've got the wood." Cronn drops a bundle of sticks and twigs a few feet away from the others and begins organizing them into a teepee-like structure. "Fortunately, the flames back that way offered an easy source." With a stick that had already been ignited, he runs it against the others, slowly. Ensuring that none would go without also catching. At this point, the silence that has fallen over Briar and Belial piques his interest, and he moves towards where they were. "Everything alright?" Seeing Belial's dark form lying against the ground and hearing his harsh breathing mixed with an occasional gag, Cronn continues to get nearer. "Belial, Briar?"

"We're alright, Cronn. Keep the fire burning." Belial's voice- having greatly improved from the last time he had heard it- sways Cronns worries.

"Glad to hear it, you're quick to improve."

"He just needs a little more time. Then, we can keep moving." Briar's voice informs, seemingly struggling to maintain itself.

"We'll be heading back to Keep after we're finished up here, yes?"

"Yes." Briar's voice echoes back to him.

"Good." Crouching near the fire, Cronn pokes at the forming embers, attempting to make them larger as he does so. Once he is comfortable with the size of it, he stands up yet again and walks over to check on Belial's condition, as his breathing has steadied enough to become inaudible. "Fire will last us a good while. Should be able to camp here for as long as we-"Cutting himself off, he stares down at Belial's body as he nears it, now realizing that it is that of Briar's, instead. "Briar? What happened!? Br- Briar!" Reaching down to shake his friend awake, he comes to the realization that Briar is already dead. With still eyes being locked onto the fire's direction and a hand outstretched towards it, Cronn pieces together that the breathing he heard was that of Briar, who was desperately trying to get his attention. "Briar! Briar, no!" Knowing that it is already far too late, Cronn decides against attempting to revive him. Instead, he looks about the corpse, searching for an open wound. Which, as he discovered, was nothing secret at all. The same arrow Briar had used to create sparks, was plunged into the middle of his chest and broken off; Having made any attempt at removing it almost impossible. The only trace of it that remains is the splintered end that has pulled the shirt tightly to the wound, and the trail of blood that trickles down Briar's side, beneath his arm. Cronn attempts to pull himself together, already knowing that Belial is the one responsible and not wanting to show weakness. Whisking away the few tears that have already formed, he stands upright, swallows hard, and turns back to the flames.

"What's the matter, Cronn? Have you forgotten about Belial?" The twisted, beastly attempt at sounding like Briar calls out to him from somewhere beyond the fog. A taunt of Belial's, and a waning disguise. "We mustn't leave one of our own behind. After all, we're all we've got anymore."

Ignoring these words as best he can, he decides that he has but two options at this moment. Let Belial get the satisfaction of killing him, or let the flames.

"Cronn, please. Help me." Now, the voice of Belial speaks. However, the beastly rumble in his voice remains intact. Noting this, Cronn takes a deep breath, intending to hold it for as long as he can. Wanting to ensure that he will get far enough into the flames that Belial wouldn't dare to follow. "Crroooooonnnn."

Bursting forward, Cronn pounds his feet against small rocks and tall grass, which whip against his legs as he picks up speed.

"Don't ignore me, Cronn!" The voice begins to grow impatient as it gains on him. Now surely being aware of Cronn's intentions.

Still, Cronn pushes on, avoiding twisting and turning about as he passes between each of the trees that comes into view and still being mostly blinded by the fog.

"CRROOONN!" The voice bellows, now being mere feet away as it rips through the thicket, knocking loose branches and small trunks to the ground.

With each squealing tree that comes crashing around him, Cronn feels futility coming nearer and nearer, but does not give in. As the first lick of flames is crushed underfoot, and he becomes lightheaded from the lack of breath, he starts to stumble over himself. Hearing his name called out once more, in its most aggressive nature, his heart begins to pound in his ears. With the wall of fire right up ahead, he feels his skin begin to burn from the proximity to it alone. Then, all goes dark, with only a ghastly roar to accompany his descent.