Honor Bound

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Daws Combine, Oct 1, 2014.

  1. [​IMG]

    Nobody is quite sure where they came from. The monsters that stalk the night, sometimes taking human as pray, sometimes adding them to their ranks. They came in many different forms. Vampire, Werewolf, Zombie, other unspeakable things. They just sort of.... appeared, roughly thirty years ago. Were they created by a madman? Or are they something older then human life itself? Whatever. That doesn't matter. All that matters now is that they're here. Whatever that could mean for humanity is, fortunately or unfortunately, up to you.

    The world was prosperous, before. Before this age that has become known as the "Dead Generation". Humanity was at it's peak. Well.... maybe they were not. Were they failing? God dammit, why can't I remember? Anyway. No matter. Listen. You need to find the Hunters. After the tenth year, what little government remained enacted it's final decree (Law? Request?). The formation of a society dedicated to the rebuilding of humanity. I don't know what the full name was, but it was split up into three branches. The Scribes, The Hunters, and The Enforcers. I would tell you about the other two, but nobody quite remembers, anymore...

    The castle where they made their homes was attacked. Only the Hunters were able to survive. They were the fighters. Something about reclaiming the territory taken by the monsters.... Why is it so hard to just remember, Dammit!

    No! Don't get scared! Listen. They made a base in the mountains. Not sure why, but they did. Go there. They can help you with whatever it was you were looking for...

    Huh? Who are you? What are you doing here? Can you remember your name.....? Good, good. They say memory loss is the first sign that it may be too late, for you.......


    As far as you know, the year doesn't matter. Nobody was sane enough to tell you, anyway. They're all turning. All of them. You've met some that claim to be immune, but you're not sure. Now that you think about it, why haven't you turned? Are you immune? Whatever. All that matters is that you are still Human, thank God. On second thought, don't thank God. He clearly isn't around to hear your gratitude, anymore...

    You have a problem. Something out of the ordinary. Whatever it is, you've always been told that joining the Hunters was the best chance at fixing it. You're not sure if that's true, but what choice do you have? You made your way into the mountains. It wasn't a cakewalk, but you got there. At some point you were found, trained, and assigned to a division. You were given a weapon of your choice and told that your name was now forfeit. You didn't need it, anyway. They gave you a new name. A single word. Much easier to remember. Much more obvious to tell if you were turning, that way.

    Your daydreaming is shattered by the voice of the Head Hunter, Karver. He speaks of curfews and regulations, but everybody already knows that these are bullshit. If there's a rule you shouldn't break, the execution will remind you. This was generally the way you've been waking up, every morning. But this day is special. This is the day you graduated from training. You've really done it, now. At any time the Homestead could be attacked, making being one of the fledglings a dangerous job. But it has to be done. There's no reward without risk. The morning wake up drill is dismissed, leaving you at the mercy of your free time on the Homestead.​
    #1 Daws Combine, Oct 1, 2014
    Last edited: Oct 1, 2014
  2. Name: Aurora Algonquian
    Gender: Female
    Age: 22
    Appearance: [​IMG] [​IMG]
    Weapons: Roman Sword and [​IMG] [​IMG]
    Division: Guard
    Likes: Fruit, miniature animals caused by her special potion and nature.
    Dislikes: Madness, vampires and closed spaces.
    Personality: Rouge/Survivor
    Reason for Joining: General Security
    Background : Birthed from the forest of her native lands north. A giant while lion protects her spirit. Alone, afraid and always in trouble. Looking for the last bit of humanity...


    Aurora takes time eating her sandwich at the main bridge wall looking over at the log dragon like river embracing the curves of the hills. "What.." She notices something strange.
  3. After hearing the morning Drill, Jackal began to roaming inside the Homestead where he spend his entire time. the headhunter Karver speech is right. God has abandoned us few year ago. Jackal still remembered why did he joined this Hunters, to kill his own brother. His brother named Argus betrayed his family and left them to death by luring the Undead to their mansion. luckily he managed to escape through secret passage beneath their mansion. he swore that he will tore his brother throat personally and feed him to the Undead.
    Jackal took his longbow from inside the storage and began to climb the tower, doing his duty as a Scope. Scope they said, they relying on their sense and eyes to do the reckoning mission, sending the situation toward the sword who walk a few meter behind them. Jackal took his binocular and placed his eyes through them. there is only a couple of loose undead walking aimlessly in the forest. Jackal blew his whistle, warn them about the approaching undead.
  4. It had been damn cold that morning. The morning frost rolled through earlier than usual, and already a light snow - matted grey and heavy with filth - had begun to fall. The captain's speech had not been out of the ordinary, though as far as Moriarty was considered, that block was not for the likes of her. Once she had been staked for the order of the Guard, though that had changed on a stroke of luck involving the death or a previous Sword member. Whoever that unlucky soul had been, he was the very reason she was where she was now: cold, hungry, and cynical.

    Once Captain - regardless of his title, that was what she referred to him as - had finished his usual rant on the rules, regulations, and other disciplinary functions of a hunter, Moriarty had been content to retire to her chambers. No, they were not by all means entirely hers, though the other sharing them lived a far different life. Though she supposed that was the difference between the Guard and the Sword, and each part had their workings into the same machine that kept this scrap of humanity alive. That's all that is left, scraps for the world to remove at its leisure.

    After having spent little more than ten minutes gathering her greatcoat, padded cloth tunic, and bracers, she was back out into the cold, axe in hand. The outcroppings of rock that had been less prone to collapses had been leveled out for pathetic gatherings of cobblestone houses, barely passable for a fit habitat. The only security the mountain offered was height and physical barriers; they still could not grow food so far up, and often the best chances for food were extensive hunting throughout the lower reaches of the mountain range. Moriarty had often led those hunts, being one of the most familiar with the range she had been a likely candidate.

    That went to say, however, that she should belong in the Scope and avoid the front lines if at all possible. For a time it had been considered that the sure-footed, obedient creature Moriarty had become would be one of the best candidates. That was until it had been decided after a rather large skirmish that her skill at fighting across narrow passages and through caverns made her useless sneaking around and playing at reconnaissance. Lost in her own thoughts on the matter, Moriarty snapped to attention, finding herself atop one of the walls that dotted the sides of the mountain where carved out flats met an edge. The mountains were breathtaking, though the beauty would have held more weight in a time of peace. As it was, they were just a reminder that they were trapped at all ends, at the mercy of whatever god had left them to this.

    "And yet I still find myself practicing religion." Moriarty chuckled to herself, breath fogging in the chilled air.

    The snow had ceased for the moment, though it had left the ground damp and thick with grey slush and shards of newly formed ice. No doubt soon they would be called out for a raiding party into the lowlands, but for now all she had left to do was enjoy the scenery. Better to look at it as equals than looking up at it. Down there it doesn't matter who you are, you look up to these peaks. You'll die with them looming over you. But then, who didn't die with a darkness looming over them in this age?
  5. An aggrivated sigh whispered from his lips beneath his mask as he rose to face the day. The bone-chilling, one hundred percent frozen, monster infested day. As aggrivating and tiring it sounded, it was at least entertaining for the most part. Mingling with the rest of the brutes in the community seemed pointless to Reaver but it didn't seem that way to them. It wasn't their fault though, but his own. His time spent with the Hunters has left an impression upon some of their lesser fighters. They admire his strength, his skill, and honor his... quiet aggresion. Reaver honestly believes it is not enthusiasm that drives them, but more of fear. For he is one of many others in the group that could kill everyone in the area without any effort.

    He stepped outside and breathed in the the cool, outside air with a plain look upon his face. As he stepped forward, he heard the crunch of snow and quickly stepped back as he saw a pile of it fall at his feet. Reaver peeked up to find two men atop his barrack shoveling snow from the roofing. One of them waved and smiled to apologize. Reaver said nothing and took a walk around the village with his eyes set on the front gate, with one or two stops here and there. Walking the main path gave him an open view of the whole village. To his left was the mead hall and kitchen, to his right was the library and study. Surrounding the majority of the area's perimeter was a lengthy building used for the barracks. By the library was a small church for the faithful, and a few meters from that was the armory smithy. The layout of the end of the area was a bit ironic when Reaver thought it over, but in any case it made sense. If God no longer gave you the answers you craved, then picking up a sword and dagger or two would lead you on the path.

    As he neared the front gate, to his left he was greeted by a wave from two admiring maidens among the Homestead. He looked back to the and kept a stale face as usual, lifting his hand and giving them a small wave back before going about his way outside the village. The winter is brutal and cold, so it was smart to stock on fresh meat for stews, and furs for coats and blankets. He's sure the Karver would have a word for his leaving. But Reaver figured there were more than enough in the village to fend off an attack.
  6. Karver walked along the walls, blunderbuss resting on his shoulder as he was lost in his own thoughts. It had been forever since an attack. He was getting restless. His more violent half was doing all it could not to take over and strike out on it's own. But the calmer half was proceeding to hold onto control, stopping just short of shouting himself down. He was a controversial choice for the Head. Most questioned his sanity, while others questioned his ability. Those issues were quickly shouted down by the former head. It was then that he spotted the undead monster walking around. He took the rifle from a nearby gun rack, usually reserved for members of the Scope only, and took a peek. It looked like nothing more then a few ghouls, wandering around (stumbling, more like it), looking for their next meal. It looked like they were going to have to go hungry. He glanced to the side and noticed Reaver making his way out of the compound. "Reaver! If you're going hunting, take a team! If you're not, at least consult me first, asshole!"
  7. "more ghoul spotted capt. what shall we do?" Jackal waiting for the head hunter Karver reaction toward the incoming Ghoul. Ghoul isn't very smart when you compared them to other form of undead. he placed an arrow to his longbow and stretch it to it's max. he just need one word from the Head hunter to scatter their brain on the ground.

    but his action halted when he saw Reaver step outside the gate. "not good he go straight forward to the ghoul location!" the range between them is only a few meter and it's really dangerous when packs of ghoul began their assaulting. "Permission Capt! before it's too late!" he shouted at Karver who was yelling at Reaver who disobey his order.
  8. Karver sighed, adjusting his leather facemask. This is why he was with the Sword. Ever since the scholars division of the old order fell apart, the Scope had taken up the duty. But scrolls and books didn't compare to real experience. He placed a hand on the bowman'd shoulder, sighing. "Lighten up, kid. Reaver can handle a few measly Ghouls. You're overreacting. Things like that can be fatal, on the battlefield." He smiled, though it was impossible to tell, under the mask. "Fire, if you think you can hit. Though, I would recommend you use a gun from the rack. Bows can be wildly inaccurate..." Karver tilted his hat back to get a better view of the snowy field. It was true that Reaver would run right into the flesh eating bastards, but it was also true that Ghouls were the easiest of all the undead to kill, by far. Thirty or forty was a serious threat. While it was true that a single bite could spell disaster, a professional like Reaver, or any of the Hunters, shouldn't have to worry. So long as they were light on their feet, and liberal with their sword.
  9. Jackal always thinking why they took ghoul so lightly. with just one bite you must surrender you live because of their venom that will make you into one of them. "don't worry bout that capt. my aim will never miss" then he released his bowstring. An arrow flew graciously and landed on ghoul head again and again until he miss once because the range is too far. "damn i missed" he gritted his teeth and sheathed back his bow to his back. "4 ghouls down. one fled" he said to karver who observing his marksmanship.

    "just don't take it lightly capt. i already seen a whole village destroyed only by a single ghoul" Jackal continued his task to scouting above the tower.
  10. "That village wasn't populated by dozens of highly trained Hunters. Light feet, Jackal. It's all you need." Karver patted Jackal on the shoulder, watching as he walked off. The kid was a good one, but a bit high strung. Karver would have to find a position for him that could help him learn to relax. Of course, that wasn't really possible, in this day and age. The stress was everywhere. Look the wrong way, and you had a knife in your neck. Or teeth, in some cases. He looked back to Reaver. "You gonna gather a team up, or are we gonna have to lock the gate, again?"