Dark Skies, Shallow Graves (ConstructPylons and LVL1337N00B)

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With every footstep towards the ominous structure in the distance, that eerie feeling of somethin' just ain't right here would only grow that much more intense. While there wasn't a literal malevolent aura in the air, the environment had an unnatural feeling, void of any light or sound aside from the very faint whistling of the wind; not even a cricket could be heard chirping, and the light of the moon and stars just faintly outlined their surroundings, very much leaving the group as the only beacon of light in the darkness.

Daron's armored mitts gripped his mace like he never had before, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his forehead. It was a good thing he had put his helmet on at that point, he thought to himself, otherwise his comrades just might notice his expression and see how fearful he really was. There were dark nights in the capitol city, but none as dark as this. Were the evenings normally this dark in this dreary part of the Sorrow Fields, or was there something supernatural at work? He could only hope for the former. His head swiveled over to look at the comparatively stalwart Olfina, who had been walking side-by-side with him in the meanwhile. She'd caught the cleric's gaze for a short moment, and while she had a look of determination in her eyes, there was an unmistakable hint of anxiousness as well. Wordlessly she gave Daron a nod of the head, turning her attention back towards the farmhouse in which they were rapidly coming up on.

Squinting her eyes, the redhead approached the doorway, holding her torch out to illuminate their path, revealing that the door had been left halfway ajar. With the shifting of plate metal, Daron strode forward to get a closer look, noting a set of familiar scratch mark patterns on the door as well.

"This is... not looking good." Daron turned over to gauge his female cohort's reaction before noticing that she'd lowered her torch, as well as her wide-eyed stare, to his feet. The holy warrior's eyes followed hers, looking down towards his legs... and what he saw made his heart jump. He had thoughtless tread into a pool of dried blood that clung to the patchy grass, and when the gears in his head finally clicked he jumped back with a shocked gasp, looking all around nervously.

"That's what that smell was..." Olfina grimaced, having grown accustomed to the scent of spilt blood in the last few weeks. "At least its not one of those undead bastards' blood. Theirs is all black and putrid, makes me want to-" A sudden cry in the distance interrupted the redhead's comment, followed by another series of calls in succession, as if responding. The voices sounded like that of men, only distorted and high-pitched, rather grating on the ears. The noises continued on, ringing out from all around and seemed to grow closer, the shuffling of hurried feet in the dirt not following soon after.

"Shit..." Olfina growled, backing up towards the other two with both hands tightly gripping her spear. "They're coming." Daron's eyes widened, the cleric gulping hard. He kept his back to the warrior woman as they grouped up with the rest of their party, his free fingers falling on his amulet of Selros, whispering a silent prayer to his lord to grant him courage. He gave a concerned glance to Reynard, as if looking to him for guidance as well.

Shadowy figures tore across the farm fields that surrounded them, vaulting over fences and any other obstacle in their path with a surprising speed. It wasn't long before they were close, a sizable force of at least fifteen or more unidentified assailants surrounding the small band of adventurers on all sides. Their low moans and growls could be heard, some audibly slurping their tongues as if in anticipation of a meal to come... their thin figures could be seen twisting about violently in the darkness, like rabid dogs being held back an increasingly thinning leash.

Finally, one dared to wander out from the darkness, revealing its grisly appearance in all its repugnant nature; with gray, blotched skin, and a deathly thin body the man was quite obviously more than sick; he was dead. His sunken eyes were as black as jet, jagged misshapen teeth bared visibly and permanently, seeing as how he was missing his lips... and yet he managed to curl his mouth into a menacing smile, chortling demonically.

With a powerful roar, the creature pointed its clawed finger at the group, seemingly issuing a command to attack as his similarly undead cohorts cut through the veil of darkness and charged the group head on.
 
Following close behind his peers, Nathaniel dared to gaze toward the farmhouse door. It didn't take him long to see what Olfina's attention had been drawn to however, and his eyes went wide all the same as theirs. The claw marks, all that blood.. Any other day it would be a bad sign, but their group was tracking those responsible. Still so, it was unsettling. Whats more, now the air had been filled with the twisted cry of the dark ones they sought. The spellcaster gasped breathlessly, feeling as though his heart had jumped up into his throat. He was still as death, or as death untainted by black magics.

Reynard gave his party a once over as they came together, then turned his narrowed eyes back toward the coming horde. "Take a breath lads, lass", the aged hunter advised, seeing in them the rattled nerves he'd suffered when he first gazed upon the face of evil. Daron and the girl held their weapons at the ready the same as him, but he got the feeling they were every bit as fearful as the blonde behind them. That boy had begun to shake as he watched the rapidly approaching figures. He'd done as the group's senior asked, but even as he exhaled one could easily see fear present in his eyes.

Nathaniel could count how many of these things he'd slain on one hand, and most of them hadn't even taken notice of him until they were set aflame. This time the creatures would have less to divide their attention, they'd be well aware of the caster before he could fling any spell at them. The boy exhaled slowly and lifted his hands to about the level of his chest, light radiating from his upturned palms as flames rose and danced atop them.

The eldest warrior of their group held his ground firmly, his armored finger gently hugging the trigger of his crossbow. The moment the leader of the deathly pack stood before them, Reynard turned his weapon's sights toward the fiend's ugly head and let his bolt fly. Without looking away from the approaching horrors, he set his bow in preparation for another shot. From there forward he'd load another bolt and take a second shot if the group hadn't closed in on them yet, otherwise he'd quickly return the ranged weapon to its place at his back and draw the axe that hung at his hip. Though his expression appeared calm and his breathing was even, the abomination slaying warrior's eyes seemed to burn the same as the mage boy's palms. A deep hatred for these dark beings fueled Reynard. He'd long since learned to keep a level head when dealing with them but it was there, burning as hot as any furnace.
 
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With a grisly THUNK and a spurt of blackened blood, the arrow embedded itself clear in the undead fiend's skull, the creature letting out a monstrous shriek of surprise before it'd crumple backwards grasping in vain at the projectile lodged in its eye before going limp altogether. The rest of the pack were undaunted by this loss, unlikely they even noticed their brother falling. With that first shot however, the battle was joined, as the undead fiends pounced to engage their prey, eager to sample some of that delicious living flesh.

With a decisive thrust of her spear, Olfina impaled one of the oncoming attackers right through the gut, the tip of the weapon bursting through it's back, coated in a layer of putrid blood and intestines. The ghoul seemed rather unaffected by this, however, only flinching momentarily at the sudden spear through its stomach. Trying desperately to get at her, it pushed itself further along the length of the spear, no concern for what would normally be a fatal wound to its person. "You undead bastards never make it easy!" the redhead growled, fingers finding their way down to the short sword at her side and promptly drawing the blade. Just as the bastard reached clawing range, she buried that steel right through it's forehead.

A sickly shlick denoted the weapon being removed just as quickly, another following the withdrawing of her spear. With a grunt she kicked the silenced bastard over, turning her head up just in time to see three more slobbering attackers come barreling right at her. She didn't even have time to think, dropping her blade and grasping the shaft of her spear with two hands, turning it sideways just to hold the blighters at bay when they came crashing against it. Clawing and raving, the undead trio pressed against her as hard as they could, their combined might quickly becoming too much for her to hold back. "Bloody hells... I could use a little help here!" she called out frustratedly, if not a bit urgently, straining to keep from being overcome.

Daron had been locked in combat with one of the creatures himself, and while he had froze initially, all that cleric training soon kicked in. With a renewed resolve, he slammed his shield against the creature's face as it came sprinting towards the holy warrior. The critter stumbled back, and just as it was about to steady itself, that steel mace came crashing down on its skull, caving it in with a powerful blow and putting the monster down permanently. Despite his face being splattered in blood, his expression lit up instantly, momentarily excited by the fact that he'd banished his first unholy creature. The fleeting moment of pride would quickly fade as he heard his ally's cry for assistance, turning his head in her direction to witness her endeavor.

"Olfina!" he called back, clambering over her way in his heavy armor. "I'll help- AUGH!" Mid-stride he was suddenly pounced by another of the bastards, tackled to the ground with the walking corpse on top of him, his helmet thrown to the wayside in the process. Excitedly the creature growled at the downed warrior, slashing him across the cheek with a swipe of its clawed hand before Daron had time to bring his buckler up to block the rest of the frenzied flurry of tooth and nail. Grimacing from the pain, the cleric was panting heavily and was starting to panic under the creature's relentless assault.

Shutting his eyes for just a split second, he recited one of the scriptures of prayer, calming his nerves somewhat. When his eyes came open the next moment, he saw his opening, firmly gripping the handle of his mace and sending the business end right at the side of the attacker's skull, knocking it off of himself.
 
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The pack closed in fast, several immediately assaulting the group. One of the grotesque creatures had lunged at the group's senior, but was swiftly put down by the man's axe. The fiend's body went limp against Reynard's chest as its head tumbled to the ground and rolled, jaws snapping at nothing. The hunter shoved the body to the ground just in time to see his youngers' in trouble. Daron had moved to answer Olfina's plea, but that distraction got him knocked to the ground. He'd handled his attacker just fine, but the girl was still in a bad spot.

"Go help Daron up", Reynard ordered the mage boy, who'd just flung a ball of fire at one of the undead closer to the rear of the pack. The young man nodded as the creature went up in a blaze and blindly stumbled into another of its own ranks, taking that one down with it. The flames had hit more than just their intended target however, spreading across the field and starting a bit of a wildfire as the blonde raced over to Daron's side, offering the cleric his hand.

Reynard hurried over toward Olfina at the same time, forcefully shoving aside another of the monsters that stood between them. A disturbing snap signaled something breaking as the creature twisted around, trying to go after the eldest of the living group as it fell, stumbling as it tried to regain its footing. When it did manage to stand again it had to drag a leg, the reason for that quite obviously being the broken bone protruding from its knee.

The hunter hadn't paid any mind to the fiend behind him taking chase, instead focusing on aiding the young woman. Reynard's already bloodied axe would find a temporary home in the rotted head of one of the girl's attackers, the other two being yanked backward by large armored hands. The two still reached for Olfina as they were pulled away, swatting until they were sent sailing down to the ground. They wasted no time in scrambling to their feet, but only one of them actually got the opportunity, the other having met an untimely end under a heavy plated boot. Reynard soon found himself being lunged at by the zombie that managed to get to its feet, but managed to catch the thing's throat. It's claws swiped uselessly at the man's armor as he held it at bay, watching as it snapped at him until a claw knicked his chin. Reynard's eyes narrowed, then he released the creature's neck and spun it around. Grasping the monster's shoulder's firmly to keep it in place as it flailed, the hunter lifted his leg and pressed his foot into the abomination's back. The thing folded and fell forward with a sickening crunch, but more sickening yet was when Reynard moved a hand to dig his fingers into the creature's dead eyes and pull apart its skull as he pushed its body further with his foot.

Brows furrowed some but otherwise appearing relatively calm, Reynard turned toward Olfina. "Are you unharmed, lass?", the hunter asked, casting aside the half of the creature's skull that he held. Hand still held out to Daron, Nathaniel stared with a very unsettled look on his face, clearly disturbed by the brutal display. Perhaps a bit sickened too, considering the further loss of color in his already somewhat pale face.
 
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The venerable demon hunter had intercepted just in time, the struggling Olfina having been pushed to the ground right as that first ghoul collapsed forward with heavy steel buried in the back of his cranium, its split head landing right between the redhead's legs, whom let out a gasp of surprise at the suddenness of it. She could only watch in awe while Reynard tore those undead cretins apart with little more than his hands, strong as they were. The old guy had shown a level of brutality she hadn't expected from him, but there was a certain fire in his eyes that wasn't present before, what she could only see as an intense hatred for the foe that had beset them, and all their ilk.

Propped up on his elbows, Daron's metal covered fingers tried in vain to wipe the spattering of pungent blood that had coated his breastplate so thoroughly, eyes traveling up to catch sight of Reynard taking such expert care of the undead fiends who had been assaulting their ally. "By Selros..." he mouthed, his reaction similar to Olfina's. He'd seen the old man fight, but that was just sparring, and against living, breathing opponents. This... this was a whole other side of his mentor that he'd never seen before, one that made him turn just as pale as the boy who was offering him a hand up, a gesture he just now realized he was being given.

Turning to look up at Nathaniel's soft features, the cleric gave an appreciative nod, gauntlet reaching out to receive the assistance offered. "Thank you, my frie-" Daron's eyes went wide, meeting with a second set of bloodshot peepers that appeared just over the mage's shoulder. The creature that the demon hunter had left crippled had changed its course, sneaking up on Nathaniel and aiming to tear a chunk out of the boy with rows of its jagged, snarly teeth.

Not even hearing Reynard's query, Olfina had scrambled to her feet, having noticed the ambushing critter long before the others had. Heart thudding uncontrollably in her chest, she cried out fearfully for his life. "NATHANIEL!" With little time to act, she did the only thing she could think of. Without hesitating, she twirled the spear around in a circular motion, with all her might launching it full force in their direction. Sailing through the air, it hit the creature dead on, skewering it right through it's open jaws and giving it a nice taste of wood and iron rather than the flesh it craved. Upon impact it was felled instantly, falling backwards with the lance sticking up out of its head.

Panting raggedly, she collected her sword out of the dirt and quickly dashed over to Nathaniel's side, looking him over to see if the mage boy was unharmed. The concern was quite apparent in her expression, but only when her eyes met his did she turn away, going awkwardly quiet as blood rushed to her cheeks, embarrassed that she'd allow herself to show such care for the fool's well being. "Way to keep an eye out, idiot..." she muttered, finding her way over to the corpse in which her spear had been lodged. Planting her foot on the creature's head, she heaved and pulled it loose, an arterial spray of sickly blood following its removal. Her eyes glanced up to see the collateral damage the mage had caused, intending to scold him for such, but decided against it since the fire seemed to be dying down for the moment; the withered vegetation in the field didn't provide much fuel for the blaze, apparently.

As their party was recovering, the few undead attackers that hadn't been dealt with had doubled back to regroup themselves, standing in an oddly organized formation comprised of a single row of standing corpses that eyed their prey from the safety of the darkness. Not a second later their forms were once again illuminated by a bright purple light, emanating from a blazing violet flame that seemed to hover in the air of its own volition. The sound of heavy footsteps crunching in the dirt could be heard coming from their direction, faint at first but quickly becoming noticeable. The barrier of undead parted, allowing a cloaked figure in a flowing black robe to step through. As the unidentified entity approached, the hovering flame did follow in tow, as well as the entourage of living cadavers.

"Well, well... aren't you lot something." the voice that spoke from behind sounded as two that spoke in tandem, one what you might expect to come from an average man while the other was low, rumbling, and distorted. "You might've been a little too rough with my pets, but that's quite alright, I can always find new ones." The robed figure's arms lifted upwards, arms of mottled gray skin protruding from the long sleeves as it pulled back its hood to reveal its repulsive appearance. Where he could've once been a handsome lad, his facial features had been twisted in a ghastly visage, dead skin pulled back tightly on his skull, eyes that were set deep into their sockets and colored pure white, patches of graying hair dotting his frayed scalp. His lips opened to reveal a set of yellowed teeth that were as jagged and unkept as that of his undead allies, letting loose a low chortle, attention focused entirely on the indomitable Reynard. "Particularly this one here. Doesn't seem to play well with others, does he?"

A spindly finger pointed over to Nathaniel, then to scorched field in the background. "And that one needs to be a little more careful. Nearly set my old home on fire, he did. And I do so have such a sentimental connection to this place." The creature chuckled, sarcasm dripping from every word that escaped his rancid maw.

With that last comment, a sudden realization clicked in Olfina's head, emitting a gasp of disbelief and covering her mouth with her hand, while the other gripped the shaft of her spear tightly. "Adrian...?! Adrian Tretcher?!"
 
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When Olfina screamed the boy's name, Reynard's head snapped back toward their mage. Just as he'd reached for his crossbow however, the young woman had sprung into action already. In an instant the creature was dead, impaled by Olfina's spear. The hunter stared in silence, impressed by the girl's quick reaction and precision. His face also showed relief, in part because she'd saved the lad but also because she'd proven that she wouldn't let the boy die just because she didn't like him. Maybe they didn't quite get along, but it was obvious she at least cared about him. The old man smiled as he pulled his axe out of the rotted head it'd been lodged in.

Nathaniel's eyes had gone wide and he'd frozen in place when he watched Olfina's spear come flying toward him, once again breathless. Only when the woman had come running over to him did he move again, turning to look back at the twice dead fiend. While he did appear unharmed it was quite obvious that the spellcaster was somewhat in shock. "O-Olfina, I..", he barely managed to stutter as he turned back to face her. He paused for a moment, remembering to breathe. Then just the same as her, color rushed to his cheeks. His brows furrowed and he looked away, clearly as frustrated with her heroics as she was herself. He felt gratitude, it was understandable considering she'd just saved his life but it didn't feel right to him. Nathaniel wouldn't be able to explain it if he was asked to, but he was clearly distressed. "I didn't ask for your help..", he muttered, pulling Daron up and turning away from them.

Now the remaining ghouls had pulled back, but they weren't retreating. Something wasn't right and Reynard knew it. He was already beginning to suspect, but it was soon confirmed.. Their necromancer was here. Reynard's eyes went over the sickly looking fellow's face when he revealed it, then snapped up and focused on his eyes. "Stow it and come at me, wretch", the aged hunter demanded, taking a few steps toward what appeared to be an intelligent reanimated corpse, "Skip your speech about your troubled past and how you'll make the world pay for its crimes, I've heard it all before. All I care to hear from you is your death cry." While Reynard challenged the necromancer, the obviously frightened Nathaniel took a step backward and raised his hands again as they birthed magical flame, the same as before. While he wasn't as courageous or as capable as the demon hunter by a long shot, the little blonde mage was just as ready to put an end to Memento's troubles.
 
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The cleric had finally accepted Nathaniel's hand up, nodding graciously to him, though he was concerned by the flush in his face, apparently mistaking it for an ailment of some sort. Before he could inquire further, a glow of violet light played in the corner of his eye, taking his attention away as it had done with the others. His eyes widened when the taskmaster of the undead revealed his ghastly form, somehow even more disturbing than that of his decaying comrades. Daron clenched his teeth, grasping the freshly opened wound that bled from his cheek, raising his mace defensively. Like Reynard and Nathaniel, he didn't back down, as much as his mind told him he was unprepared for this.

Olfina balled her hand into a fist, so tightly that her nails left small marks on the palm of her glove. Her voice wavered, tone filled with both anger and confusion. "This doesn't make any sense... Adrian was a good lad...!" Shaking her head, she tried her best to suppress her reservations, gripping her spear with both hands and taking an offensive stance, ready to spring into combat at a moment's notice.

Adrian rolled his head to the side, letting it hang unnaturally limp. "Ha... Haha... Hahaha!" The fiend clapped his hands animatedly, his distorted laughter ringing out loudly, making Daron and Olfina cringe. "Most would've run by now... you people amuse me to no end." Straightening his rotten self, he locked his pupilless eyes with Reynard and nodded, sporting that unclean smile. "Since you asked so nicely... PREPARE YOURSELVES!"

Grasping the hem of his robe, the necromancer tore the thin veil of cloth of himself, tossing the garment on the ground behind himself. If they'd thought his face was unsightly, his horrific body was in another league by itself. His clammy gray skin was pulled tight to his bones, ribcage clearly visible beneath the epidermal layer. There were various small slits along his skin, thin tubelike protrusions with fanged ends snaking out and wiggling about aimlessly, leaking a putrid green substance that stank of death and decay... then again, what DIDN'T stink like death and decay at this point?

The abomination gave the group a moment to gawk at his horrible appearance, his tendrils extending and dancing about in the air like some kind of macabre ribbon dance. They'd suddenly go still, suspended in the air... with an abrupt set of cries in unison, the appendages pierced the bodies of each of the necromancers minions. Through arms and legs, through their eyes and their torsos, they were speared mercilessly, writhing in agony. Their bodies began to shrink and wither, as the protrusions did the opposite, bulging sections forming along their respective lengths and traveling back to source, as if he were siphoning their body weight into himself.

Adrian's body expanded unnaturally, draining the zombies of their undead essence, his demonic laughing growing even more distorted as he grew to into an exorbitantly sized mass of decaying flesh and skin. With a sickly suction noise, the last of it was sucked away, slurping up their dead skin and leaving a row of standing skeletons that soon gave way to gravity, falling over on one another.

"By the light of Selros..." Daron gasped, taking a step back, trembling at the inconceivable mess of an abomination before them. He thought the necromancer would be bad enough, he'd been trained to fight them, but this...? How in all the countless hells were they to combat it? Olfina had a similar reaction, mouth agape. Both of them looked over to Reynard, hoping to all the gods that he had some sort of plan.
 
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Before them this already disturbing beast of a man changed, stealing away rotted flesh and organs to turn himself into something truly horrifying. Golden brown orbs still flickered with the fires of hatred, not a hint of fear present behind them as the bones of the deceased clattered against eachother and the ground. Reynard tightened his grip on the axe he wielded and taken another step forward before turning his head partway toward his young companions. "Keep back and stand together, watch for reinforcements. You'll not risk yourselves against this one", Reynard commanded, his voice stern, "Whatever happens, you are not to step in. Do you understand?" Nathaniel looked to both of his peers before turning back to the demon hunter and hesitantly nodding. The last thing he wanted was to see any one of these people fall, not even that loathsome redhead, but he trusted the man knew what he was doing.. Especially after the brutal display he'd put on just before. The young man lowered his hands, sheathing his gods-given weapon in a sense. The older man nodded in return, turning back toward the grotesque creature that was once Olfina's neighbor.

As Reynard walked forward one could almost forget he was but a man against a powerful abomination, his stride not slowing but hastening the closer he came. Heavy plate be damned, the hunter broke into a sprint, axe raising as he closed in on the fiend. As the gap between man and monster closed, so too would that of flesh and steel. An opening strike was delivered, aimed at the leg and propelled by unreserved might. As had many other foul creatures had been purged from this world at Reynard's hands, so too would this one. So long as the man drew breath, he would not rest until the wretched beasts all were returned to the hells from which they spawned.
 
The old man was crazy! Even one as experienced as him couldn't take on an abomination of such size, or at least that's the thought that ran through Olfina's mind as she watched Reynard charge straight for the beast with nary a hint of hesitation. The axe swung true, severing the monstrous being's leg from its body and toppling it over, the earth shaking from the massive thud that was the result of its landing.

The being that was once Adrian Tretcher did not cry out in pain, instead continuing to laugh in such an unsettling manner as if it had barely even noticed. Its grotesque form shifted, distended torso bubbling and rumbling. From within a sharp fragment of bone protruded, piercing its rotten skin, cutting open rancid flesh like a saw, neck to navel. Fetid black blood dripped from the incision.

"HEHEHEHAHAHA! YOUR EFFORTS ARE FUTILE, DEMON HUNTER. YOU WILL SOON JOIN YOUR FAMILY IN THE OTHER WORLD."

Pouring out from inside the cut, several thick intestinal strands snaked their way into the open air, sliding along the ground rapidly in Reynard's direction. Before he could even react, his feet were lassoed, lifting the heavy, armored man up into the air and suspending him above. So too were his hands tied by the cable thick fleshy bindings.

Chuckling like a little brat who enjoys picking wings off of flies, the creature's thinner, tubelike protrusions extended upwards, dancing in front of Reynard's face and raking their fangs along his skin. "YOU MAKE THIS TOO EASY, MORTAL. IT IS ALMOST A PITY THAT I SHALL END YOUR LIFE SO EAS-AAAAUGH!"

A blinding flash of light shone from below, forcing the monster to turn his head and avert its gaze in fear. The symbol of Selros stood vigilant in the face of evil, held steadfast by the holy warrior who was resolved to vanquish such creatures in his lord's name. Gritting his teeth, Daron's freshly scarred looked to his two companions, both of which were shielding their eyes from the light. "NOW, you two! THERE'S NO TIME!"

Without any need for further encouragement, the redhead dashed forward, charging the beast with a booming battlecry and impaling the monster through its cheek at full force. The attack elicited a roar of unexpected agony as the iron tip dug into flesh and bone. The valiant redhead didn't miss a beat, back stepping as its huge limbs thrashed about in an attempt to swat her away. Quickly she drew her blade, running over to the base of the tentaclelike appendages that the abomination's gut produced. With another vigorous roar she brought the blade down, steel cutting straight through the bindings with a decisive slash.

Her eyes followed Reynard as he fell to the ground with a heavy clunk, traveling over him then landing on Nathaniel with a hurried look. "Nathaniel! Get ready to burn this bastard back to hell-" An inordinately sized elbow crashed into her side, sending the fiery redhead flying, exclaiming as she collided with a fence post several yards away and fell to the ground, limp and unconscious.

"It's... It's now or never..!" Daron's knees shook, the light from his symbol waning just a bit. This was the decisive moment.
 
Reynard's attack had been a success, but what came next had caught him off guard. Perhaps it should have been expected, but in his anger and old age he'd forgotten caution. He cared not for what would happen to him, more he hungered for vengeance; An appetite for death of the demonic that would never truly be sated. Even now as he dangled helplessly by the grotesque appendages born of Tretcher's twisted shell, his thoughts were of none more than brutality. Struggle as he might however, he was powerless to fight back now. Still, he roared in the face of his dark foe, wild and animalistic.

A light then blinded Reynard as well as his attacker, who shortly after released him. The fall had been less concerning than the searing light that had rend the demon hunter, he could fight through physical injury but he was not so confident he would possess the capability to strike true without relying on his eyes to show him where to swing. The voices of his young companions were both assuring and worrying, he was thankful beyond words that they were helping him but he could not help but feel responsible for their lives and worried that having them along to face this monster may have doomed them all the same as him. No less, from what he could hear they were intent on fighting this thing and saving his sorry hide.

Nathaniel's eyes carefully opened as his arm moved away from his face. Despite the group's senior-most member's previous order, the young mage stood in preparation to strike. His palms burned, flames low and relatively calm first but growing taller and more wild as he watched Olfina, his rival and ally heroicly fight the horror that threatened them. She'd effectively saved Reynard and weakened the already blinded abomination, he was beginning to regain confidence in the outcome of this fight. And then she was flung away, sent sailing into a post just as she was telling him to be ready. His eyes widened, then narrowed. This beast would burn.

The spellcaster's hands would come together, shaking against the force of the flames he'd push together. Stray embers would start a wildfire that encircled him as the palmed fireballs met, growing into one much larger. "It's now or never", the holy warrior had called out. Now or never. Nathaniel took a breath, then thrust his palms out toward the foul creature, pushing the ball of concentrated flame toward him with a force that would stir the wind and send his braid and some surrounding features whipping around. The mage prayed to Deiduin as his most powerful arcane fireball thus far approached the monster that was Adrian Tretcher, dropping to his knees and quietly begging that the demon be delivered to the hells it deserved, far from here where it could no longer threaten his friends.

The boy's head hung low as he struggled to stay conscious, his eyes wearily watching on from behind golden strands that had been whipped loose from his braid. "Please.. Let this be done."
 
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CHAPTER TWO: DARKNESS BELOW

A Brief Respite, gray
The sun's morning rays peaked through slits in the overcast sky, bathing the barren landscape in subdued light. Long puffs of smoke floated up into the clouds, the fire that burned all night just now dying down. Where the blaze had been a massive inferno, it had now been reduced to cinders, what remained of the carcass just ash and soot covered bone. The abomination had been slain, purged back to where it had come from by the purest of methods.

The Tretcher estate had seen better days. Once one of the more successful families in the area, their burned out, lifeless husk of acreage was but a shadow of what it once was. It wasn't entirely clear whether the rest of family had been killed off entirely, but even if some had survived, there would be little to return to.

Having prevailed just by the skin of their teeth, the battered and weary group had barricaded themselves within the farmhouse, barring the doors and windows on the chance that further attackers may appear; in the state they were in, they wouldn't have been able to put up much of a fight. Indeed, only half were still conscious, Nathaniel and Olfina resting upstairs while the cleric and the demon hunter kept vigil down below. Daron tended to their wounds the best he could, with what knowledge of healing magic he had; but he was no miracle worker. He'd successful healed the claw mark on his face, only a very faint scar left. For the other two though, well... it was just a matter of time.

The holy warrior had removed his breastplate and spaulders, seated at the dining table in the center of the room in only his robe, though he still donned the chainmail underneath. While Daron had managed some rest, the indomitable demon hunter had stood sentinel for the group all night, Reynard never removing his armor or allowing himself a moment's reprieve. He had been silent this whole time, grip held tightly on his axe. Selros only knew what he was thinking, and Daron didn't dare to ask.

The cleric rose to his feet, politely pushing his chair back under the table before walking towards his mentor, regarding him with concern. "Reynard, my friend... you should get some rest. I can take watch from here."

"I'm quite alright, Daron." Even as Reynard spoke, he had to stifle a yawn, an unintentional slip on his part. The gray rings around his eyes did little to help his case, either. The cleric shook his head, motioning over to the straw bedding they'd managed to rustle up on the opposite side of the room.

"You of all people should know the value of being properly rested. Please, Reynard, just take an hour or two. We're not all going to die while you're asleep, if that's what you're afraid of." Daron smiled, his comment intended merely as a joke, but the worried look on his mentor's face made him regret saying such a thing in the first place; after all, they nearly HAD all been killed in that vicious battle the night previous, a fact that no doubt weighed heavily on Reynard's mind. "Er..." Daron scratched the back of his head, feeling like a thoughtless fool. "I could've said that differently."

The elder of the two couldn't help but start chuckling, perhaps a little bit delirious. He rose to his feet, slapping Daron on the back. "It's fine, lad. You're right, however, I suppose I should get some sleep. Won't be much help to anyone if I'm dosing off all day." Walking over to the patch of straw that was their hastily assembled bedding, the demon hunter gingerly lowered himself to the ground, stretching out on the scratchy floor and slipping the ragged pillow under his head. Wasn't the fanciest bed he'd ever slept in, but for the moment it undoubtedly felt like heaven.

It wasn't long before he was fast asleep, accumulated fatigue hitting him like a train; yet even in his slumber he kept a firm hold on his weapon, and he'd neglected to take his steel plate off. Daron could only smirk at the venerable hunter's constant preparedness.

~~~

Her vision slowly coming back to her, Olfina stirred, groaning in pain. Her whole body ached, barely able to move. At least she was comfortable, lying in bed... her consciousness gradually returning to her, she realized the heat against her body, the scent of another person sharing her bed. Wait... was this her bed? It didn't seem like it. Feeling the silken hair of the other tangled amidst her fingers, she craned her head up to look at the person's face. Her eyes went wide.

"G-GAH!" Panicking, she pushed herself away, rolling onto the floor with a solid thunk, nearly knocking herself unconscious again when the back of her head hit the ground. Almost immediately she was on her feet, cheeks red and expression confused, furious. The exclamation seemed to awaken the mage, Nathaniel's eyelids groggily sliding open, sitting up.

"W..Wha-" before the boy could even say anything, Olfina angrily delivered a decisive kick to his chest, knocking the poor lad off the opposite side. Gasping, the mage grasped the sheets and managed to pull himself up, clutching the spot where he'd been struck with a frustrated snarl.

"What... is your godsdamned- HEY!" He swerved to the side to avoid the potted plant being hurled his way, the enraged redhead readying another miscellaneous object to be thrown. "Stop that, you idiot!" She didn't heed him this time. Luckily for Nathaniel, he managed to duck, but the window behind the boy was not so fortunate.

"What kind o-of... of mage trickery did you work on me?! Or did you just get me really DRUNK?!" Another undoutedly hefty item went sailing his way, Olfina so red she looked to be in danger of boiling over. "I'd HAVE to be at LEAST six bottles down to even consider... with... with you!"

The implication made Nathaniel tense up, his cheeks showing some color of their own. "Are you insane? L-Like I'd even want that!" He scoffed, turning away. "Do you even remember what happened last night? The undead? That giant... thing that used to be your friend?"

Just before throwing another object, she froze, letting it drop from her hands as the memories of Adrian's bloated and contorted corpse came flooding back to her. She'd thought that'd been a dream, rather, hoped. Her anger soon escaped her, replaced by a sudden infusion of sorrow. Sighing, Olfina turned her back to Nathaniel and plopped back onto the bed, muttering a reluctant apology under her breath. "...Sorry."

Just as the situation was dying down, the door swung open and Daron burst into the room, mace in hand. "Is everything okay? I thought there was a demon loose up here!"

Nathaniel broke into a chuckle, perhaps a little bitter from the kick to his chest. "No, worse." With a grin he glanced over to the redhead, expecting her to have a retort ready for him, as she usually did; but she merely remained silent, head hung low, refraining from facing the two. The mage's smug smirk turned to a guilty frown, perhaps realizing the timing of his joke to be inappropriate.

"Well, it's good to see you're both awake and well. I hope you don't mind that I put you two in the same bed, there was only one in the house and you both needed all the rest you could get." Looking between the two, and the state of the room, Daron realized it probably wasn't the wisest idea. "I also took the liberty of tending to your armor, Olfina. It was a bit dented and, er, bloody, but I managed to fix it up properly." The redhead just nodded, the only affirmation of her gratitude.

"Oh, and your cloak, Nathaniel, I fixed that as well." The cleric motioned to the aforementioned cloak folded neatly and place on the dresser, less torn and cleaner than it had been even before their fight. The mage held up his newly repaired garment, nodding his head in appreciation. He draped the cloak back around his shoulders, fastening it back in place.

"Huh. Didn't figure you'd be good with a needle. Thanks, Daron." The two shook hands, Daron flashing a bright smile.

"Diligence is but one part of our training. Knitting and sewing takes patience, believe me. I hated it at first, but over the years I've found it can be quite relaxing. Why, I used to sit in the chapel after mass and..." With Nathaniel expression taking on a glazed over look, Daron quickly decided to change the subject to something more interesting, turning back to the doorway. "Er, anyways... if either of you are hungry, we have food and water ready downstairs. Just keep your voices down, Reynard is sleeping."

"Sounds good. Now that I think about it, I could use a snack." Nathaniel looked down at his stomach, realizing just how empty it felt. Expelling all of his energy like he had the night before took a lot out of him, feeling it in both his aching muscles and his rumbling gut. He glanced back to the redhead, regarding her thoughtfully. "Olfina..?"

"You two go ahead." She still refused to face either of them, her tone as tempered as it could be, yet one could just feel how she was about to crack. The two young men nodded at each other, a silent agreement that they'd give her some time alone. They both exited through the doorway, the mage softly pulling the door closed behind them as they did so.

As the handle clicked shut, Nathaniel could hear her muffled sobs through the cracks underneath the door. He never thought he would feel this way, but in that moment, he actually felt sorry for her.
 
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Thinly Veiled Sympathy, gray
Seated across from Daron at the dining table, the recently awoken Nathaniel tore at the dried meat in front of him. He answered when the cleric spoke to him, but for the most part he remained relatively silent, glancing toward the ceiling as he shredded the sustenance his stomach grumbled for. He could still hear her soft sobs and sniffles and could scarcely focus on much else. The young mage heard her and ached, despite all their constant bickering and traded insults. He'd have preferred that to this any day.

"Are you well, Nathaniel?", Daron asked, his voice hushed in respect for his slumbering mentor. The blonde looked back to his peer, pausing for a moment to consider the question before putting on a faint smile and nodding. "Of course. That monster..", he started, taking care to lower his voice more so than he had already at the harsh but accurate description of Olfina's neighbor, "..Is gone and can do no more harm. Memento is safe again. What's more, we all survived lastnight's battle." Though not entirely convinced, Daron smiled back warmly. Almost the very next second, Nathaniel's eyes had set on the ceiling once more.

The group's arcane practitioner rose from his seat after only moments of having occupied it, grabbing up the meal set aside for Olfina and heading back toward the room he'd just come from. "I'm going to take this to her. I'll just be a moment..", Nathaniel said as he moved to ascend the stairs, at the top of which he'd knock before cautiously entering. "You should eat", he'd tell her, setting the cloth-packed foodstuffs on the side of the bed opposite where she sat, "Ser Daron insists."

Meanwhile, as Nathaniel took more than the brief moment he'd suggested to quietly wonder what he should do or say, the eldest of the group stirred from the makeshift bedding he lay on. His gut churned, not from hunger but something else. Hand still clutching his trusty axe, now more tightly than before, Reynard sat upright. Daron had begun to speak, but the demon hunter raised a hand and gestured for silence. He listened close. Half expecting the remnants of the horde they faced the night before, Reynard rose and fell into a combat-ready stance, eyes set on the door. He wasn't certain of what was coming, but he would not be caught off guard if it posed a threat to him and his companions.
 
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Hostage Situation, gray
The hunter's demeanor made Daron more than a little nervous, his own weapon at the ready, gaze firmly stuck on the door as Reynard's was. Silently he rose, the shifting of his chainmail just barely audible, the only sound to break up the deathly silence that fell on the room. There was a part of him that suspected the sleep deprived demon killer was just being paranoid, but he'd never known Reynard to be jumpy without reason. That feeling kept growing though, what seemed like an eternity passing in utterly uncomfortable quiet. Their fears were finally confirmed by a noise that caught them terribly off-guard.

There was a gentle rapping at the door. Someone was knocking. Without thinking, the cleric's reflexive politeness kicked in, calling back, "Come i-" before covering his mouth with a steel glove; the door knob jiggled. Reynard buried his face in his palm, shaking his head. Not that the invitation mattered much, the door was nailed shut. Motioning for Daron to stay put, the hunter stalked over to the barricaded window, surprisingly nimble for a man in full steel plate. Peaking through a slit in the moldy boards, he couldn't quite see who their unexpected visitor was, only barely able to make out the tail end of their black cloak. He realized now that the knocking had ceased, and not a second after the cloth slipped out of sight.

The suspense was killing Daron. He couldn't help but inquire now. "Who is it?" He called across the room, both whispering and yelling at the same time. Reynard held up a single digit, commanding the holy warrior to keep quiet. His senses were hyper focused, listening for footsteps, breathing, anything to give away the other entity's position. Nothing.

~~~

As much as she felt sick to her stomach, Olfina did as she was bid, hesitantly unwrapping the dried meat Nathaniel had set down for her and nibble at a chunk. Nathaniel leaned against the dresser, arms crossed as he observed her. He'd never seen the girl so vulnerable like this, belligerent as her nature usually was. It was disarming, to say the least.

With much trepidation, he finally spoke up. "So, not trying to pry, but... was Adrian someone special to you or something?" Asking her such questions went against every instinct in his being, but he couldn't just sit and watch her wallow in misery. The response he received wasn't immediate, but was far more placid than he expected. Olfina shook her mane of tangled red, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"...No, not really. He was a friend, yes, but... I... I don't know. What happened to him was... was terrible, vile... I don't understand how he could become something like that."

"Well, he's not exactly the first friend you've seen turn, is he?" Nathaniel could think of more than a few of her fellow villagers that had been pink and fresh one day, then gray and rotten the next. Most of the undead they put down had been someone or other's kin, seemed like.

The redhead sniffled, tears threatening to stream from her once more. She held them back, however, not content to let herself break down in front of the mage again. "It was... different," she spoke lowly, clasping her fingers together in her lap.

"I remember their faces, every one we lost to in this bloody struggle with the undead. They were people I grew up with, men, women, elders, children. They were MY people. Seeing what the worst of them had become, it just... it hit me, truly hit me, just how much we've lost. I couldn't let it hold me back at the time, I had a job to do, after all... but now that the undead have been dealt with, it's all I can think about. We can't undo what's been done, can't bring back the ones we lost. I don't know if we'll be able to bounce back, even now." She bent forward, burying her face in her hands. "The dead may be dead for good now, but they more than exacted their toll..."

Nathaniel listened to her vent in thoughtful silence, posture slumping just a bit. As an outsider, he hadn't really considered all that. Sure, he'd made friends- well, acquaintances- ...okay, he KNEW people from the village, but it wasn't really his home. The blonde sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Olfina. You might not believe me, but I can actually relate. My fam-"

A glint caught Olfina out of the corner of her eye, glancing up to see why Nathaniel had suddenly stopped. Her heart skipped a beat.

Silvery steel was pressed to Nathaniel's throat, pure terror written on his face. A slender arm was wrapped around his front, clutching a dagger and pulling the boy close to the black hooded figure crouched on the dresser behind him. Their face was obscured, but Olfina could see the smirk on their pouty lips, and the long ears that protruded from the sides. From Nathaniel's perspective, he could feel the tight fitting leather she wore, and clearly this was a woman from the bumps he felt pressing into his back. He might've enjoyed it all given different circumstances.

"Now, this one couldn't possibly be a necromancer, could he? You certainly don't smell of death." The stranger took a long whiff of his hair, chuckling to herself. "Definitely a mage though. I can just tell."

Instinctively, Olfina's hand went for the sword at her hip, only... it wasn't there. She clenched her fist angrily, growling. "Damnit Daron..." her attention went back to the hooded woman, her stare so intense it might burn a hole in her. "Who are you? What are you doing here? And why are you holding a dagger to my friend's neck?"

The assailant waggled her finger. "Mm-mm, dear, you answer me first. Who are YOU? Why are YOU here? And why is there a rather massive pile of burnt human remains and ash in your front yard?"

Reluctant, the redhead saw no other choice but to answer with death pressed so close to Nathaniel's neck. "I am Olfina Stonewatcher, from Memento. We came looking for clues about the undead ravaging our town. Instead, we found the... necromancer himself who was controlling the horde. That pile you mentioned? That's him. What's left of them."

There was a moment of terrifying stillness that followed Olfina's last words, the hooded one's expression unreadable. Eventually, the knife lowered from his neck, though Nathaniel was not yet set loose. "You two did that?" she inquired, sounding almost impressed.

"We had help."

As if that was their cue, both of the heavily armored demon hunter and the devout cleric crashed through the door and stomped into the room, Reynard with his crossbow immediately pointed at the black hooded woman, while Daron held his symbol in one hand and flaunted his mace in the other.

"Let the boy go," Reynard commanded, as calm and collected as ever. The elf's ears perked up, apparently surprised by his voice. Unexpectedly she did as he asked, untangling her arm from Nathaniel and dropping her weapon on the ground, holding her hands up in surrender. The Avell son joined his comrades, flames flaring up in his palms in preparation.

"Reynard?" She spoke softly, tilting her head. The demon hunter blinked, apparently as equally suprised by her voice as well. Without another word, she threw her hood back, her long locks of raven hair cascading down over her shoulder as it was free. The elf revealed her delicate features, sky blue eyes, pale skin. Slowly, she stepped down from her perch, not once breaking eye contact with Reynard, who was similarly entranced.

Weapon lowered, his voice was even lower. "...Valendria?"
 
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No Time For a Reunion, gray
Reynard's eyes met those of the elven woman, held them for some time. She didn't seem to mind his lengthy stare, in fact it looked as though she might have enjoyed it. The young blonde lowered his hands as a smirk crept across the elf's face, flames still flickering faintly as he looked between the two, then to Olfina. She shrugged, as if he'd asked her a question, but otherwise the two remained silent. "Valendria..", Reynard repeated after a long, perhaps somewhat awkward moment of silence, "There's a sight for sore eyes.. You've not aged a day, have you?"

The woman's smirk grew wider, then a charming little giggle passed her lips. "Oh, Reynard. I see you haven't forgotten how to flatter a girl after all these years", she said, setting a hand upon her hip. The hunter grinned in turn and shook his head, taking a few steps forward as he slid his axe into the strap that held it in place at his hip, "It's not flattery if it's true, now is it?" She'd taken steps at the same time as him, quickly shrinking the gap between the two and leaving them about a hair from collision. "It has been too long", Reynard spoke softly, carefully resting his steel covered hands on her shoulders. "Much, much too long", she agreed, her own, much smaller hands reaching up to grasp his.

While Daron beamed at the seemingly tender moment, lowering his weapon the same as his mentor, the other two youngers seemed baffled at the way this woman suddenly turned the brutal demon hunter into flirtatious young man, when she'd only just seemed to pose a threat to them. "Ehem..", Olfina cut in, hoping to put a stop to this cutesy display of theirs, "Friend of yours, I take it?" Heat rushed to Reynard's cheeks as he stole his gaze back from Valendria, turning them a reddish color his companions would likely never see again. He cleared his throat.

"Right, er.. This is Valendria. For some time in the past, we were.. Familiar", he explained briefly, without actually divulging any details. The aging warrior removed his hands from the woman's shoulders and gestured toward the others by order of introduction, "Valendria, my friends Daron, Olfina and Nathaniel. We'd gathered to exterminate the undead in the area, took down the necromancer at the heart of all the trouble last night. They'll be returning to Memento as heroes." Reynard sounded proud, he was. His young companions had done well, saved him even.

Valendria eyed the demon hunter for a moment more, then turned to look over the rest of the group briefly before heading down the stairs, motioning for them all to follow. "Your pretty red-headed friend told me as much, but I'm afraid there's more to it. I came out here following a lead.. Overheard some disconcerting things about the undead while passing by the grand cathedral, as I expect you did, Reynard", the dark haired elven woman said as she descended and approached the dining table, "Do you still collect those stone carvings?" At that, the went to the pack he'd laid in the corner of the room and produced a slightly padded leather satchel which he'd then hand over to Valendria. She dumped out the contents, which included an almost fist-sized wolf head made of a smooth, shiny black stone, an eye-shaped carving of the same size and material, a smaller yellow and red stone hand and a slightly larger grazing horse figure of a sort of foggy looking purplish stone. Her carelessness with them made the warrior cringe slightly but he didn't make a fuss, instead watching as she placed them on different parts of the table. "Alright, this is Memento and here is where we are now.. Let's say this is the Black Forest..", she began, gesturing to the wolf, horse and eye in that order.

"Supposedly, this is where we'll want to go from here", she continued as she tapped the hand-shaped carving that was placed between the horse and eye, a bit closer to the latter which represented the forest, "It's close enough that this could be the work of trolls, but lets not worry about that."

"Yes, of course. Trolls are quite hospitable, after all", he said sarcastically, glancing over at Olfina who had punched his shoulder in response, "Well, what should we be worrying about then?"

"Wolves, panthers.. Oh, and how about the undead?", the redhead replied, "Have you not been paying attention to what's going on, Nathaniel?"

"You two needn't worry over anything. You either, Daron. Valendria and I can handle this from here on out. You've all done your part, go home and celebrate", Reynard told them. The mage was just about to go over and thank Reynard and Daron for all their help and prepare to head back, but seeing the redheaded warrior shake her head made him hesitant.

"No, we've come this far. I want to see this through."

Well, now he couldn't turn back. If he quit the mission and she didn't, he'd never hear the end of it when she came back. The woman teased him enough already as it was, he wasn't about to add fuel to that particular fire.

"I too would like to remain and help purge these abhorrent creatures", the cleric, Daron added with a nod and a determined look.

"I've put you three in enough danger already", Reynard argued.

"Our lord Selros favors the just, Reynard. His holy light will break the dark skies and guide us to victory"

An amused look played across Valendria's face as she heard their eagerness to carry on. She approached the eldest male of the group from behind and to the side, lightly resting a hand on his metal-covered arm while the other brushed over the fine hairs on the back of his neck. "I suppose you'll have to get me alone another time then, won't you?" Caught off-guard by a delicate touch to a sensitive area, heat rushed over the demon hunter's face once more. Looked like they'd get to see him turn red again after all.
 
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As It Stands, gray
The trio of younguns never would've expected to see such a look on the hunter's grizzled face, cheeks redder than a blushing virgin bride on her wedding day. While Nathaniel and Olfina exchanged a rare mutual grin, Daron instead frowned, perhaps uncomfortable seeing his idolized mentor show any sort of weakness. Clearing his throat rather loudly into his fist, the cleric decided it was time to refocus on the task at hand, glancing fixedly at the elven woman while lacking that usual friendly smile he oft bore. "Valendria, if you could tell us more about this place you mentioned..?"

Stepping away just slightly from the gray veteran, Valendria nodded, though her look of amusement did not fade. "Of course, my apologies..." Leaning over the table, she returned her attention to the pseudo-map she'd created with Reynard's figurines. One slender finger gestured to the hand carving placed previously. "You've all heard of the Mausoleum, yes? The last standing structure from the Kol'ghai era, or the 'Troll era' as most people know of it. You know, the time before you humans decided this land should be yours." She winked, betraying any malice that might've been hidden behind that comment.

Nathaniel shrugged. "Wasn't my idea." Another strike from Olfina, a swift elbow to his person. The mage clutched his ribs, scoffing.

Valendria's full lips spread into a smile. "Of course it wasn't. Anyway, that's beside the point. Most aren't aware that, in fact, there were two temples of Kriosk, one nearly a millenia older than the other. Only recently did we learn of its existence, by chance while investigating the undead disturbances in this area."

"Wait, wait, wait," the mage interrupted again, looking slightly perplexed. "We? Who's we? Like, us we? Because I'm pretty sure I would've remembered that."

The elf shook her head. "No, not you, obviously. I meant we as in, the Deliverers." Her delicate hand rose, displaying a shining silver ring on her index finger. Daron's eyes widened just a bit, while the other two younglings seemed unfazed.

"Who?" "Who?" Olfina and Nathaniel spoke, in near unison.

"The grasping shadow... Deiduin's Deliverers. An ancient order dedicated to eradicating the abomination that is necromancy," Daron explained to his peers, as if reading his lines directly from a textbook. "Warriors of light who fight in the shadow. So secretive, most don't even believe they exist." The expression on Daron's face seemed to echo that sentiment, but one confirming nod from his mentor was all the proof he needed. "Reynard, are you..?"

"Oh no, he's not one of us. Though he shares many of our... passions." Valendria giggled, smirking back at the uncharacteristically embarassed demon slayer. "We've worked with him on more than one occasion. He's practically an honorary member. Just doesn't like letting others get too close, unfortunately." She was teasing, but there was some truth to that statement. Reynard merely grunted, not wanting to delve further into that thought.

"Anyways," Olfina spoke up, which Reynard was grateful for,"When you said 'we', were you talking about other members of this 'Deliverers' group? Where are these other guys? Can they help us?"

The question wasn't answered immediately, Valendria's flirty mood disappearing somewhat, head drooping just slightly. "I was... getting to that. The Alrak'han, that is, the temple of which I spoke... we believed this to be the possible source of the foul necromancy infesting this land. My companions departed nearly a week ago to seek it out, but they've yet to return. I fear..." she sighed hestitantly, eyes fixated on the hand carving, "I fear they may've found what we were looking for, and what we were looking for was too powerful for them to stop."

Reynard couldn't help but feel sympathetic for his old comrade, reassuringly placing a hand on her shoulder. He knew how she felt. Though two of their party he'd only met recently, if something horrible were to befall any one of them, he'd be wracked with guilt. He thought perhaps he should ask them to stay behind once more, but he knew it would be of little use. Nathaniel was determined to help, despite his glibness; Olfina was stubborn, and not about to quit now after all she'd lost; And Daron was pure of heart, as dedicated to assisting those in need as he was to the Sun God himself. With the slightest of proud grins, Reynard felt no surprise whatsoever when the next question came.

"When do we leave?"
 
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Interlude - The Gathering Storm, gray
Far east of the Sorrow Fields lies the more prosperous Kingdom of Reim, a jarringly different change of scenery from the dreary, forsaken lands where our story currently takes place. The lush grasslands are ripe for agriculture, modest woodlands ripe for forestry; the countryside of Lor Reim is beautiful, but the true marvel of the kingdom is the massive city of Hyr Reim, by far the most densely populated civilization of all Taironos. Mostly human, however there's no shortage of elves or dwarves either, and while rarer, even lizardmen, trolls and gnolls have been known to take residence in the capital.

Staring across the battlements over the sprawling urban jungle, the structure that stands out the most, by far, is the towering royal keep, surrounded on all sides by a second layer of high walls, in case the outer rim were to somehow fall to invaders. Not once has that happened, however, nor was it likely to happen anytime soon. Across the continent, the Reim military was feared, and for good reason; to date, the country had yet to lose a war, in part because of their superiority in numbers, but their history of brilliant commanders has been their true advantage.

One such commander found himself holding council with the kingdom's many advisors, lords, what have you: anyone of importance, essentially. The king himself was present, though seemed wholly uninterested in the matters being discussed. His gray-ringed, opal eyes were fixated entirely on the fanciful cloth covering of the royal long table, having not uttered a word since the meeting began. The commander could barely stand it himself, the group creating such a racket with every single councilman scrambling to bring their matters to attention.

The commander sighed, brushing a lock of shoulder length grayish black hair behind his ear, standing from his chair. The bulky set of rune engraved blacksteel plate he wore made his presence stand out far more than the other hoighty-toighty types in their silken robes and gambesons. Without even speaking a word, the council fell silent, not a single person daring to interrupt the High Commander of Reim. "That's much better," he spoke calmly, hands folded behind his back. "We will go over all points of interest in an orderly fashion." He looked to the tabbard wearing gentlemen to his left, the head of the City Guard. "Commander Bartre, you will speak first."

Nodding, the balding soldier cleared his throat, preparing to address the group. "Thank you, Commander Kaelis, sir. As you all know, the Slums- that is, Old Town has long been infested by two rival gangs, The Butchers and The Bastards. As of recent, the feud between these two groups has escalated, and collateral damage is at an all time high. Over the past month we've found nearly sixty dead, almost half of which were civilians caught in the crossfire. I've doubled patrols in the area, and one of my sergeants has begun recruiting local residents to form a militia, but it's just not enough. We need more boots on the ground to keep this contained."

"You don't have any men left to reassign, commander?" Asked a portly man in fanciful dress, the Lord of Ships, scratching his scraggly beard.

"We're stretched thin as it is, unfortunately," he responded, clearly distressed as he was rubbing his temples in frustration. "With the Bloodfur Gnoll tribe spilling across the Verdantis River into the Northern Vale, and the Red Masks waging their guerrilla campaign across the countryside, we've got too many distractions right now. With every rotten band of bastards deciding to test us at the moment, we can't afford to redeploy any of our regiments to this cause."

"Then what do you propose we do?"

"If the Lord of Commerce would allow it, and his royal highness of course, I'd like to use some of our treasury funds to hire mercenaries from the market district." The Guard Commander folded his hands on the table, gauging the reaction of the council. Most seemed to be considering it, while some seemed disconcerted, if not outright appalled by the idea.

"I think... that may be possible," spoke the Lord of Commerce, a diminutive, freckled gentleman in thick spectacles, "Provided you vet the mercenary groups beforehand. Only the most reputable, the ones less likely to turn on us for a better payoff." Whispers murmured around the room, the decision clearly a controversial one. The council went quiet once again when High Commander Kaelis raised a hand, hushing the lot of them.

"Very well then. The two of you can discuss the details at a later point." Finding his seat once more, the black plated warrior rested on the arm, motioning to the councilwoman across from Bartre. "Abendal, you may go next."

Nodding, the purple robed woman rose to her feet, the representative from the Church of the Holy Flame. "Esteemed members of the council," she announced, practically chanting, "A most blasphemous cult may have taken root in our kingdom... a cult that practices the reanimation of the dead, also known as necromancy." There was a collective gasp from the crowd, many covering their mouths in surprise. "Reportedly, the undead have been besieging the forlorn lands of the Sorrow Fields, more than likely commanded by a practitioner or practitioners of occult magics, forbidden in our godly lands."

"Hmph, more superstitious nonsense," Bartre chided in, rolling his eyes. "What is it this time? Did someone's wrongly declared grandpa dig himself out of the grave again?"

Abendal scowled, tossing back her mane of white, hands on her hips. "How dare you, sir. I would not make these claims lightly. We've been hearing these reports for some time now, and in our arrogance, dismissed them all the same. We even sent one of our youngest chosen as a token gesture. However... as of just today, certain evidence has come to light."

"What evidence is this?" inquired the Master of Ships.

The white-haired priestess bit her lip, a bit hesitant to explain. "I... rather, we, The Cathedral, were contacted by the... the Deliverers."

Another round of gasps. While Bartre looked less than convinced, Kaelis rubbed his chin in thought, his interested piqued. The king himself finally looked up from the table, surprised by the sudden mention of the clandestine group. "The Deliverers? As in... Deduin's Deliverers?"

"The very same, your grace," she responded, bowing her head in respect. Unraveling a scroll that had been clipped to her belt, Abendal displayed the parchment marked with the seal of the grasping black claw that was Deduin's sigil. Carefully she leant across the table, holding it out for the king to take. The monarch quickly scanned over the message, mouthing the words silently as he did.

"High Cleric Abendal, I only hope this reaches you in time," the king read aloud, "the shadows gathering to the west are no mere rumors. It is as have many said, the dead have risen to scourge the living, under the influence of a sole necromancer, the likes of which we've yet to see for centuries. We hope it not to be so, but the sheer magnitude of this being's power has led us to believe this unidentified occultist to be an agent of the Forgotten Seven."

The room had fallen deathly silent by this point, many of the councilors listening with pure disbelief written in their expression."We beseech you, send your clerics, your soldiers, everyone and anyone you can to quell this threat, before it spirals out of control. The fate of your kingdom, perhaps all of Taironos lies in your hands."

The group was listless, only Commander Kaelis maintaining his composure. Bartre blustered, the first to speak up after some time. "This is a farce, nothing more. The Forgotten Seven are just an old legend. Likely, this a message from our enemies, trying to keep us distracted with nonsense."

"And if it's not?" Abendal asked, folding her arms over her chest. "Will the ancient wall, with all its cracks and structural damage, keep the tendrils of hell at bay? What will your excuse be when an army of the dead marches across Lor Reim to besiege our city?" The council was aflush with panicked whispers, the imagery described by the high cleric only serving to stoke the flames of their fear.

"There's no way to verify the validity of this message, is there?" The incredulous guard commander asked, running a gloved hand over his shiny dome, having apparently already convinced himself that it was nothing but a hoax. "For all we know, one of your acolytes is playing a cruel trick on you. Pass anyone up for affirmation lately, Abendal?"

Balling her fists, the woman of the cloth looked about to denounce her vows of non-violence before High Commander Kaelis stood, striding his way over to nearby balcony to look out at the horizon. He seemed to be working out a decision himself, without need of the council's advisement. The assembled council sat in total silence, waiting anxiously for the commander to address them.

"Considering our current affairs, we cannot afford to divert our military elsewhere," he spoke calmly, eyelids flitting shut. Before anyone would be allowed to comment, he continued. "However... this is not a matter we should wholly set aside, either. Abendal, if you can convince your Grand Chaplain to go along with this cause, I will send a detachment of the honor guard to accompany your clerics and your purifiers. I'll hand pick the men myself, even. Hopefully it will be enough to suffice."

"You would send the Black Knights from the capital?!" One of the councilmen shouted, taken aback. "Their place is by the king's side!"

"I accept that," the king spoke plainly, surprising the rest of the council. "If this threat is truly as great as they claim it to be, then there's more at stake the life of a doddering fool like myself." The sycophants of the group wanted to object, but a wave of dismissal quickly put those ass kissing notions to bed. "This is my decision. If Kaelis believes sending the Black Guard to be prudent, then I am inclined to agree."

"Thank you, my lord, your grace," Abendal bowed to both the high commander and the king, respectively. "I shall bring this to the Grand Chaplain at once." Without another second of hesitation, she sped out of the room, leaving the remaining councilors to bicker among themselves. The king, weary from all the matters of state, excused himself from the discussion, of little notice to those participating.

Kaelis stayed by ledge, gaze cast westward towards the looming clouds in the distance.
 
Companions Lost, gray
After their breakfast of dried meats and bread, the group stepped outside. The two eldest of their group had grown accustomed to the stench of death and decay, but the rest still wrinkled their noses in disgust. Nathaniel had to stop even, bending forward in anticipation of a spill of guts. When instead he merely gagged, he drew up his cloak to cover his mouth and nose.

"Let's saddle up and get out of here. I think we've all had about enough of this stench", Olfina said as she glanced back at the mage boy, making note of how the repugnant smell of burnt flesh seemed to be somehow be affecting him even worse than it did the rest of them. As rare as the feeling was, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the sickly looking boy as he uncovered his mouth and leaned forward again. She snapped her head back around the moment she heard the imminent gurgle, wincing when she heard the spatter that came after. "Oh gods, yeah. Let's go, now.."

When the redhead turned to head for the side where they'd left their mounts, a femininely small hand grasped her shoulder and stopped her. With the mage boy retching, there was but one other it could have been. Olfina turned around to face the lovely elven woman, brow raised. She shook her head in response, eyes offering apology as she spoke, "You may not want to see them.."

Olfina's eyes turned toward the ground briefly, then back up to Valendria's. "They're.."

The previously vomiting blonde kept his head turned away from the others, but his feelings on the matter were made evident with his quiet sniffle and sigh after the deliverer gave an affirmatory nod. Not that he need hide it, considering each member of his party wore a woeful expression. However sheltered, emotionally distant or wary of other people they were, not one took the death of a trusty animal companion lightly. "Come on", Valendria said, turning to approach a small horse-drawn carriage nearby, "You'll all ride with me."

--

The group rode toward the previously designated area, cramped together in Valendria's cart meant for two. While not the most comfortable, Daron didn't complain or show any signs of irritation, trying to keep a smile on his face. Nathaniel and Olfina stared forward at nothing and ignored the fact that they were smushed together, where before they'd set out with their knightly companions they could barely stand to be in the same room. More than anything, the two of them looked drained. Reynard had lowered his head and gone back to sleep with the help of a gentle hum and slender elven fingers brushing over his bristly graying hair. He'd been put out cold in a matter of minutes and left undisturbed to catch up on some much needed rest.

The demon hunter dreamt of simpler times, days before he knew the evils he now sought to eradicate. He'd been a simple mercenary, slaying bandits and beating down drunken fools for good coin, most of which went stright to his family.. After a quick stop at the tavern. Meeting Valendria again reminded him of those times, because of her likeness to his deceased wife. That may have had something to do with why he was drawn to the elven woman in the first place.

This particular dream was cut short by the aforementioned wife's scream, which in the process of waking was transformed into that of the mage. The cart had stopped and both he and Olfina had jumped down. Reynard steadied his breathing, then went still as he saw the reason the two were not still seated.

A flash of fire and sizzle of smoke, a spear whistling through the wind and sword rending flesh. A hulking gnoll, sickly and gray, fell limp. The hyena's head rolled, stopped under the older man's armored foot just after he'd descended the carriage. It's maw continued to snap, flesh dangling from between fangs, until Reynard pressed his foot down and crushed the beast's unnaturally animate head. Meanwhile, the creature's hulking body continued to recieve slash after slash until Nathaniel grabbed the attacker's arms. Olfina dropped her blade and turned to face the mage, who pulled her in close and watched over her shoulder with a tearful scowl as the corpse still burned. The two wept and embraced as Reynard drew the redhead's spear from the zombified beast's chest and used it to put a half eaten Tessi out of her misery, ending her pained cries.

"Come.. We'll mourn once this is all done.."

 
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