Four months ago, a bestial plague swept over the nation.
Those afflicted by it turned into impossible monsters ripped straight from the myths of old, with an endless hunger that only blood and death would satisfy. It started small, at first- pockets of beasts, rarely sighted in the depths of the wilderness. These sightings were viewed as mere paranoia, as many farmers had recently lost groups of livestock to some unseen creature. But as time went on, the number of these beasts increased, and with them more people went missing, children who never came home and highways men who were to never be seen again.
Action was not taken until it was far too late, and now this sickness has spread at an unstoppable pace. Those who had not left for the remaining kingdoms were left to their own, as soon their gates closed to the outside world. Now, the only resistance against these monsters are a small group of hunters, some who are more beast than they are man.
themes may include...
x character death
x gore
x violence
x suicidal idealation
x character death
x gore
x violence
x suicidal idealation
if any of those bother you, then this might not be for you! if you have any questions about anything related to this, feel free to PM me!
OOC thread/1x1 version here!
It's only by luck and a shrewd ear that Eve stays relatively safe. At first she laughs at the stories brought to her smithy telling of people being ravaged by beasts. "I could use such a ravaging," she had taunted, her eyes glittering with humor. Now the memory was an ache in her soul of what had been. Her village had been all but salted in its most thorough destruction. The ginger only had enough time to grab her travel sack and rush off into the forest.
For the first time in her life, being little had suited her. At first she had climbed with the grace of a drunken sailor on land. The second week saw some improvement to a graceless foal learning how to walk. By the third month, she was a monkey in all but body. Now her legs hardly cramped from the constant stop and go that comes with moving from platform to platform. She cleverly rigged a bucket over a central spring for water. As luck would have it, she never met a single traveler. Either they were all dead, or the smart people are keeping out of the woods. The somber thought causes her olive skin to pale every time it comes to mind. She begins her search for a now typical, utterly boring meal of roots, berries, and edible plants.
"I'm a confused bunny," she mutters to herself, sliding a leaf into her mouth. Sometimes she talks in an effort to break the silence. Even the birds had stopped singing, save crows. The black birds had tripled; filthy scavengers that they are.
For the first time in her life, being little had suited her. At first she had climbed with the grace of a drunken sailor on land. The second week saw some improvement to a graceless foal learning how to walk. By the third month, she was a monkey in all but body. Now her legs hardly cramped from the constant stop and go that comes with moving from platform to platform. She cleverly rigged a bucket over a central spring for water. As luck would have it, she never met a single traveler. Either they were all dead, or the smart people are keeping out of the woods. The somber thought causes her olive skin to pale every time it comes to mind. She begins her search for a now typical, utterly boring meal of roots, berries, and edible plants.
"I'm a confused bunny," she mutters to herself, sliding a leaf into her mouth. Sometimes she talks in an effort to break the silence. Even the birds had stopped singing, save crows. The black birds had tripled; filthy scavengers that they are.
"Are you with me? If so squeeze me hand" I try, with my best, why won't it clench? COME ON! My hand won't work? I try to scream but I can't move. Why won't it work. "Are you there?" YES! YES I AM! The silhuettes above me just stares, two of them weeping, the third beside me. "Your daughter is alive, but she is in a vegetative state, the fall has severed nerves in her spine. She doesn't have long again as the fluid will soon clog her brain, killing her." What? Am I dying? Why? Please help me, I can't move. Sobbing can be heard, it's faint. "I may suggest some final word, a prayer can work too, just something that will let her soul rest when she passes on". The sobbing sounds comes closer, they sit down besides me, it's Mommy and Daddy. They are crying too much for to hear them. I'm getting sleepy all sudden... I could use a nap...
The cries of the parents are deafening, but they just lost their little girl. He understands, he feels sympathy for them, but the world doesn't. I might as well have been an ant that passed away and it wouldn't care the slightest. Errat stood up, packed his equipment, then turned towards the grieving ones. "Sorry I couldn't save her, may her soul rest, have a nice evening..." He spoke and left out the door of the hut.
A chilling breeze blew through the tiny village, whom were one citizen lesser. The wind were nice and cooling, just what he needed after the heat of the hut. Errat began to slowly walk towards the little shack this village had, that they called a bar, what an excuse. The heat hit him again as he passed through the door. Cobweb decorated the corners of the room, filled with four people, five with Errat. At the counter sat a washed up drunk with his sixth cup of stout, behind the bar stood the barkeep, grumpedly tending the drunk, and at a table in the middle two nut jobs, presumbly old drinking pals, played cards and downed mug after mug of ale. Errat sighed a little, he needed a drink to down the experience with, so he sat by the counter and ordered a cup of wine.
The cries of the parents are deafening, but they just lost their little girl. He understands, he feels sympathy for them, but the world doesn't. I might as well have been an ant that passed away and it wouldn't care the slightest. Errat stood up, packed his equipment, then turned towards the grieving ones. "Sorry I couldn't save her, may her soul rest, have a nice evening..." He spoke and left out the door of the hut.
A chilling breeze blew through the tiny village, whom were one citizen lesser. The wind were nice and cooling, just what he needed after the heat of the hut. Errat began to slowly walk towards the little shack this village had, that they called a bar, what an excuse. The heat hit him again as he passed through the door. Cobweb decorated the corners of the room, filled with four people, five with Errat. At the counter sat a washed up drunk with his sixth cup of stout, behind the bar stood the barkeep, grumpedly tending the drunk, and at a table in the middle two nut jobs, presumbly old drinking pals, played cards and downed mug after mug of ale. Errat sighed a little, he needed a drink to down the experience with, so he sat by the counter and ordered a cup of wine.
In this land where the line between men and beast were blurred, the nights were solemn and deadly. The ominous moon hung high in the sky, its close proximity to completing its cycle a fatal omen. There was an unnatural absence of nature's sound- no nightingales sung, no hounds bayed in the evening. It was as if even the wildlife had grown somber. It was silent, save for the occasional humanoid cry and voracious roars, signalling the end of another life. A bleak, hopeless existence, this life was, but small pockets of humanity still thrived outside of the kingdoms who had long since closed their gates.
With a meaty sound, the old hunter ripped his ax from the skull of his now deceased enemy. Tainted blood sprayed his face as the beast fell to the ground. It would never harm another innocent again. Kneeling down, he drew a cross over its mottled, furry flesh, uttering a quick prayer for the monster. Killers they were, but they once had been human too. Such was the merciless way of this sickness, uncaring and brutal as to who it took. Men, women, even children- no person was safe, no matter how pure or strong they were.
It took him some time to transfer the heavy body to the wagon his steed carried, a sturdy draft horse that held a powerful will to live. He dragged the corpse to the pile where the others lay, creating a pile to be burned later. The animal nickered nervously as Crowley patted it reassuringly, sniffing the air.
"Aye, I smell it too. It seems tat' we are not alone here," he growled, stepping away from his companion. His unnatural sense of scent led him to a recent trail off to the side of the road; fresh, whatever had created it had passed through here recently.
He removed his heavy leather glove, his clawed hands reaching down to the disturbed earth as he examined the footprints. Human footprints.
The bartender stood on duty at perhaps the last tavern for many miles around, anxiously scrubbing the inside of a glass. His eyes fell upon the new arrival, a nervous smile tentatively crossing his lips. It seemed like everyone in the village was on edge tonight, knowing all too well that their little safe-house was slowly being surrounded closer and closer with each passing day. They could not hold out for much longer.
"Yae'know," he started, "ah' think this might be our last few bottles! Wine tisnt' very common any more, aye?"
His calloused hands shakily poured Errat's glass, his gaze constantly shifting from the falling alcohol to him. He offered the cup to the man, a fake grin that almost looked scared on his face.
"Oi, to hell with this shit! We're damned sittin' ducks here! Wot's the kingdom's done for us? Sent us a man that's more dangerous than those monsters out there? Like hell I'll cross my legs all purdy and wait for either them beasts or the hunter himself to rip us to pieces!" the drunk across from Errat suddenly screamed, smashing his mug on the counter.
"Now, Samuel, yae'know tat they're doin' the best they can-"
"Bullshit! I tink' they sent him here to finish us off. Wot's better than havin' one of them creatures among us, huh?" he fired back, suddenly looking at Errat. "Wot do you think, aye? Shouldn't we burn tae' bastard before he kills us all?"
With a meaty sound, the old hunter ripped his ax from the skull of his now deceased enemy. Tainted blood sprayed his face as the beast fell to the ground. It would never harm another innocent again. Kneeling down, he drew a cross over its mottled, furry flesh, uttering a quick prayer for the monster. Killers they were, but they once had been human too. Such was the merciless way of this sickness, uncaring and brutal as to who it took. Men, women, even children- no person was safe, no matter how pure or strong they were.
It took him some time to transfer the heavy body to the wagon his steed carried, a sturdy draft horse that held a powerful will to live. He dragged the corpse to the pile where the others lay, creating a pile to be burned later. The animal nickered nervously as Crowley patted it reassuringly, sniffing the air.
"Aye, I smell it too. It seems tat' we are not alone here," he growled, stepping away from his companion. His unnatural sense of scent led him to a recent trail off to the side of the road; fresh, whatever had created it had passed through here recently.
He removed his heavy leather glove, his clawed hands reaching down to the disturbed earth as he examined the footprints. Human footprints.
The bartender stood on duty at perhaps the last tavern for many miles around, anxiously scrubbing the inside of a glass. His eyes fell upon the new arrival, a nervous smile tentatively crossing his lips. It seemed like everyone in the village was on edge tonight, knowing all too well that their little safe-house was slowly being surrounded closer and closer with each passing day. They could not hold out for much longer.
"Yae'know," he started, "ah' think this might be our last few bottles! Wine tisnt' very common any more, aye?"
His calloused hands shakily poured Errat's glass, his gaze constantly shifting from the falling alcohol to him. He offered the cup to the man, a fake grin that almost looked scared on his face.
"Oi, to hell with this shit! We're damned sittin' ducks here! Wot's the kingdom's done for us? Sent us a man that's more dangerous than those monsters out there? Like hell I'll cross my legs all purdy and wait for either them beasts or the hunter himself to rip us to pieces!" the drunk across from Errat suddenly screamed, smashing his mug on the counter.
"Now, Samuel, yae'know tat they're doin' the best they can-"
"Bullshit! I tink' they sent him here to finish us off. Wot's better than havin' one of them creatures among us, huh?" he fired back, suddenly looking at Errat. "Wot do you think, aye? Shouldn't we burn tae' bastard before he kills us all?"
Eve looks to the left, to the right, and finally settles down on the ground. The torturous, tangible silence eats away at her ears, to the point where the rustle of a leaf is equal parts relieving and frightening. As sharp as she believes her senses to be, she knows that she's only a human. Anything and everything could sneak up on her while she's out of her trees. Today she lingers on the earth, reluctant to return to her perch of solitude.
The ginger pauses and turns her head, as if trying to hear some faint disturbance to the peace. For the millionth time she hopes to be right, that someone or something other than monsters are within her grasp. Though she doesn't know it, some part of her mind had registered the noise of some man piling high a cart of corpses. Frozen like a rabbit, she thinks yet again that a noise has broken through the monotony of her Eden. A nicker? The pair were less than a quarter mile away.
Her boot prints are small and generally found in pairs of eight, maybe ten depending on how far her plants were from the trees. Yet they always returned in a straight path, with a length that indicates running instead of walking. By their lack of depth and size one could determine they were either tracking a child, or a very light adult. Woman would be more likely than man, but the latter not altogether impossible, just improbable.
Hope outweighs caution because of a feeling in her gut. There is no way for her to truly know that there isn't some monster prowling, ready to make her its next victim. Eve climbs rapidly to her nearest tree. Once she's at least twenty feet above the grass below she makes a strong fist and knocks. Tap. Tap. Tap. It echoes like thunder. No birds compete for the spotlight, leaving Eve as the sole performer. She waits three seconds, then does so again. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The ginger pauses and turns her head, as if trying to hear some faint disturbance to the peace. For the millionth time she hopes to be right, that someone or something other than monsters are within her grasp. Though she doesn't know it, some part of her mind had registered the noise of some man piling high a cart of corpses. Frozen like a rabbit, she thinks yet again that a noise has broken through the monotony of her Eden. A nicker? The pair were less than a quarter mile away.
Her boot prints are small and generally found in pairs of eight, maybe ten depending on how far her plants were from the trees. Yet they always returned in a straight path, with a length that indicates running instead of walking. By their lack of depth and size one could determine they were either tracking a child, or a very light adult. Woman would be more likely than man, but the latter not altogether impossible, just improbable.
Hope outweighs caution because of a feeling in her gut. There is no way for her to truly know that there isn't some monster prowling, ready to make her its next victim. Eve climbs rapidly to her nearest tree. Once she's at least twenty feet above the grass below she makes a strong fist and knocks. Tap. Tap. Tap. It echoes like thunder. No birds compete for the spotlight, leaving Eve as the sole performer. She waits three seconds, then does so again. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Errat sips some of his wine, it reeked of decay, but were still drinkable. Though the keep were right, wine isn't very common anymore, with everyone shutting themselves inside and hope for a knight in shining armor to come and save them. It's taste weren't that much to write home about. Bitter and sour, but it is needed to dull the situation of his. His gaze were locked on the counter, though it's understandable. In times like these, the survivability of humans after being infected and/or damaged are minimal, but it still hurts to lose a patient, one you had responsability for.
He moved his vision upwards and towards the keep. "Would you go out there, risk your life, for someone who thinks that job you do is despised?" Errat opened his bag and took out a dagger, and placed it on the counter. "Then take this and walk out the door, and scream 'Monster! Show thy for my, and I shall banish thee!'. Do you have the courage to face monsters on a daily basis? Because then I welcome you to the light, some of the few you people who actively tries to end this dire predicament of ours. This hunter that you speak of might have might and be dangerous, but I would rather face that, than a ravenous, starving, enraged beast with death following it's tracks. The beast were human, but the hunter is still human, that's the difference. So I don't see you burning him if you want to last very long afterwards." He said and took another sip.
He moved his vision upwards and towards the keep. "Would you go out there, risk your life, for someone who thinks that job you do is despised?" Errat opened his bag and took out a dagger, and placed it on the counter. "Then take this and walk out the door, and scream 'Monster! Show thy for my, and I shall banish thee!'. Do you have the courage to face monsters on a daily basis? Because then I welcome you to the light, some of the few you people who actively tries to end this dire predicament of ours. This hunter that you speak of might have might and be dangerous, but I would rather face that, than a ravenous, starving, enraged beast with death following it's tracks. The beast were human, but the hunter is still human, that's the difference. So I don't see you burning him if you want to last very long afterwards." He said and took another sip.
They say the equation for laughter is tragedy plus time...except Riley wasn’t laughing, she was dying.
The only ‘time’ she had use for was to sift through the series of events that led to her bleeding out on a forest floor, conveniently located beyond any hope for human assistance.
She never should have moved to this kingdom, following a man she thought she loved while he pursued his career, solely because she felt that she’d run out of options. She certainly should not have tried to investigate the slightest rustle of nearby brush, the first sound she’d heard in weeks, against the advice of her partner. Old partner. He was dead, neck snapped and body tossed to the side like a rag doll. She’d deal with the mental baggage later.
While Riley complained, she was perfectly content in that makeshift little home of hers, living with the only person she thought she’d ever need - albeit bored. Though, she quickly learned that boring was safe. She should have stayed bored.
She laid in a pool of her own blood - much less inviting than the sparkling grave that her partner died in. Comparatively, he was having a far worse day than she was. She hoped she wouldn’t join him at some bar in the afterlife, drinking amongst the many taken out by those rampant beasts.
Riley’s fate almost seemed certain, with the edge of her vision blurring, and her target looming over her figure with its teeth bared. Its maw was coated in a thick sheen of crimson, its snout blew a hot puff of air in her face. And yet, staring back into its depthless eyes, she didn’t feel the content she expected. Death struck odds with some, but never for Riley. She always expected to leave this world, no matter how, peacefully.
But now, looking into the eye of death itself, she found herself scared. Scared to lose her life. She wasn’t ready to die, she realized, not yet.
As though her thoughts called out a cue, a sudden flurry of feathers sped a mere inch past her face, making direct contact with the beast. There was a sickening squelch, followed by a guttural howl of pain.
“Adrix!” Riley cried.
The bird fluttered back onto her uninjured shoulder, watching pridefully as the beast thrashed from side to side, ramming into pine trees with force that shook the ground. Pinched between its beak was the same beady eye that held the fate of her life just a moment before. Riley watched as the beast bolted out of sight, thrashing through the brush as it went. She laid still, holding her breath, heart pounding in her ears, until she was certain it was gone.
With what little strength she had left, she pushed herself to her feet. “You saved my life,” her words came out breathlessly, directed to the bird on her shoulder, “thank you, mate.”
Her pale eyes scanned the tree line, then back down at the blood soaking her shoulder. “It might be time to make a little stop in the village, eh?”
The only ‘time’ she had use for was to sift through the series of events that led to her bleeding out on a forest floor, conveniently located beyond any hope for human assistance.
She never should have moved to this kingdom, following a man she thought she loved while he pursued his career, solely because she felt that she’d run out of options. She certainly should not have tried to investigate the slightest rustle of nearby brush, the first sound she’d heard in weeks, against the advice of her partner. Old partner. He was dead, neck snapped and body tossed to the side like a rag doll. She’d deal with the mental baggage later.
While Riley complained, she was perfectly content in that makeshift little home of hers, living with the only person she thought she’d ever need - albeit bored. Though, she quickly learned that boring was safe. She should have stayed bored.
She laid in a pool of her own blood - much less inviting than the sparkling grave that her partner died in. Comparatively, he was having a far worse day than she was. She hoped she wouldn’t join him at some bar in the afterlife, drinking amongst the many taken out by those rampant beasts.
Riley’s fate almost seemed certain, with the edge of her vision blurring, and her target looming over her figure with its teeth bared. Its maw was coated in a thick sheen of crimson, its snout blew a hot puff of air in her face. And yet, staring back into its depthless eyes, she didn’t feel the content she expected. Death struck odds with some, but never for Riley. She always expected to leave this world, no matter how, peacefully.
But now, looking into the eye of death itself, she found herself scared. Scared to lose her life. She wasn’t ready to die, she realized, not yet.
As though her thoughts called out a cue, a sudden flurry of feathers sped a mere inch past her face, making direct contact with the beast. There was a sickening squelch, followed by a guttural howl of pain.
“Adrix!” Riley cried.
The bird fluttered back onto her uninjured shoulder, watching pridefully as the beast thrashed from side to side, ramming into pine trees with force that shook the ground. Pinched between its beak was the same beady eye that held the fate of her life just a moment before. Riley watched as the beast bolted out of sight, thrashing through the brush as it went. She laid still, holding her breath, heart pounding in her ears, until she was certain it was gone.
With what little strength she had left, she pushed herself to her feet. “You saved my life,” her words came out breathlessly, directed to the bird on her shoulder, “thank you, mate.”
Her pale eyes scanned the tree line, then back down at the blood soaking her shoulder. “It might be time to make a little stop in the village, eh?”
Turning his head to the sky, the old hunter could have sworn he had heard tapping. He listened for a long while, and it then came again. Tap, tap, tap. It was in a mechanical rhythm, unnatural and not made by any form of woodland creature. Carefully, he rose from the fresh tracks, making sure to not crunch any leaves or snap any branches as he made his way to a nearby tree.
He studied it for a moment, putting his fist to the hollow core. Life had long since left this oak, and it would serve the purpose well. Using his calloused knuckles, he cautiously began to repeat the pattern he had just heard. Tap, tap, tap. The realization that he was wasting his time making music now occurred to him...what in the hell was he doing, after all? Perhaps he had gone insane, lost too far to the inner turmoil that raged deep inside of him.
Just as he was ready to make his leave back to his steed, he heard a deafening squawk, followed by a human cry. All of his thoughts were lost as he was made privy to the fact he was no longer alone- he jumped to his heavy boots, drawing the sturdy crossbow from his back. Whatever, whoever, had been in the trees, if there had even been anything at all, would follow him if it had the will to live. For now, the promise of an actual person was more important.
With a heightened sense of hearing and smell, it did not take long for him to find this other living, breathing human. It was a young woman, covered in blood that looked as if it was both her own and that of another's. He steadied his weapon, aiming it at the exhausted looking girl; alive or not, she was hurt. And in these woods, injuries were often far more deadly than they seemed at first sight.
"Yae've got five seconds to explain tah' me why there's gore all over you, little miss," he warned, his gruff, torn voice holding no sign of fear.
Back in the tavern, Samuel, the town drunk, stood utterly baffled. His intoxicated mind whirled as he struggled to come up with a logical response- he had not expected this man to defy his word. It was rare to find someone who didn't despise the hunter that had been appointed as their protector, but it was not because it was out of pure hatred. They were scared. The long, deadly nights, the beasts that prowled their stead, it was all enough to make even the hardiest man quiver in their boots. They needed someone to blame, someone to shoulder all of their doubts and struggles and worst fears, as there was nobody coming to save them.
It was the beginning of the end, many of them felt.
"Well, it ain't like none've'us got some damn curse that lets us fell those demons left an' right!" he roared, pointing a finger accusingly at Errat. "Wot about those girls who went missing, eh? The bloody bastard killed them, yae'know! Slaughtered them like little piggies on that full moon, damn right he did!"
The barkeep continued to fret, his eyes wide and fearful as he faithfully scrubbed his glass. His hands were raw and shriveled from the dirty water and work, though he seemed to pay no mind to it. A trademark, nervous grin appeared on his face again, falling short to ever convince anyone it was real.
"N-now, gentlemen, no need tah' get upset..."
"To hell with you, Jones! Yae'know all to well that we're all going to die here," Samuel breathed, "it's all just a matter of who does it."
Tensions were high and ready to burst, and there was no cure for it in the near future. Even with alcohol, terror could only be subdued so much.
He studied it for a moment, putting his fist to the hollow core. Life had long since left this oak, and it would serve the purpose well. Using his calloused knuckles, he cautiously began to repeat the pattern he had just heard. Tap, tap, tap. The realization that he was wasting his time making music now occurred to him...what in the hell was he doing, after all? Perhaps he had gone insane, lost too far to the inner turmoil that raged deep inside of him.
Just as he was ready to make his leave back to his steed, he heard a deafening squawk, followed by a human cry. All of his thoughts were lost as he was made privy to the fact he was no longer alone- he jumped to his heavy boots, drawing the sturdy crossbow from his back. Whatever, whoever, had been in the trees, if there had even been anything at all, would follow him if it had the will to live. For now, the promise of an actual person was more important.
With a heightened sense of hearing and smell, it did not take long for him to find this other living, breathing human. It was a young woman, covered in blood that looked as if it was both her own and that of another's. He steadied his weapon, aiming it at the exhausted looking girl; alive or not, she was hurt. And in these woods, injuries were often far more deadly than they seemed at first sight.
"Yae've got five seconds to explain tah' me why there's gore all over you, little miss," he warned, his gruff, torn voice holding no sign of fear.
Back in the tavern, Samuel, the town drunk, stood utterly baffled. His intoxicated mind whirled as he struggled to come up with a logical response- he had not expected this man to defy his word. It was rare to find someone who didn't despise the hunter that had been appointed as their protector, but it was not because it was out of pure hatred. They were scared. The long, deadly nights, the beasts that prowled their stead, it was all enough to make even the hardiest man quiver in their boots. They needed someone to blame, someone to shoulder all of their doubts and struggles and worst fears, as there was nobody coming to save them.
It was the beginning of the end, many of them felt.
"Well, it ain't like none've'us got some damn curse that lets us fell those demons left an' right!" he roared, pointing a finger accusingly at Errat. "Wot about those girls who went missing, eh? The bloody bastard killed them, yae'know! Slaughtered them like little piggies on that full moon, damn right he did!"
The barkeep continued to fret, his eyes wide and fearful as he faithfully scrubbed his glass. His hands were raw and shriveled from the dirty water and work, though he seemed to pay no mind to it. A trademark, nervous grin appeared on his face again, falling short to ever convince anyone it was real.
"N-now, gentlemen, no need tah' get upset..."
"To hell with you, Jones! Yae'know all to well that we're all going to die here," Samuel breathed, "it's all just a matter of who does it."
Tensions were high and ready to burst, and there was no cure for it in the near future. Even with alcohol, terror could only be subdued so much.
"With the girls my fine fellow, odds are that a beast have taken care of them, rather than a human. I haven't met the man, this hunter, but I am sure that he is an honorable person" A man fighting for the good of mankind got to at least honorable. "Sam, you don't need a curse on you to fight the monsters, all you need is courage, courage to lay down the bottle and pick up the sword. Because if you don't then who else will?" Erral leaned in on Samuel with the final words "Who will?".
Errat began to chuckle at the fearing keep, he looked uncomfortable enough from here to Johansberg. Though it's understandable, he doesn't blame them for fearing the dark, like children. He stared down at his half empty mug, cracked and worn, like the rest of this settlement and its spirit. "God, we humans are pathetic, aren't we?" He continued to look at the cup. "In the days of light, we dance and sing, embracing each others as kin, ready to face any threat there be. Then day turn to night, and the nightmares come. Where we are supposed to stand as one, we split and coward. Like rats, we flee the scene at first sign of confrontation. If we just wait and see how things will turn out, the good will come. That's our normal battleplan for the future, observing and not taking action. Because action speaks louder than words, and we humans needs to be led by example to move on." Errat takes another sip to wetten his throat after that rant.
Errat began to chuckle at the fearing keep, he looked uncomfortable enough from here to Johansberg. Though it's understandable, he doesn't blame them for fearing the dark, like children. He stared down at his half empty mug, cracked and worn, like the rest of this settlement and its spirit. "God, we humans are pathetic, aren't we?" He continued to look at the cup. "In the days of light, we dance and sing, embracing each others as kin, ready to face any threat there be. Then day turn to night, and the nightmares come. Where we are supposed to stand as one, we split and coward. Like rats, we flee the scene at first sign of confrontation. If we just wait and see how things will turn out, the good will come. That's our normal battleplan for the future, observing and not taking action. Because action speaks louder than words, and we humans needs to be led by example to move on." Errat takes another sip to wetten his throat after that rant.
For a moment, her knuckles hesitate. She considers a third series of knocking, for surely three's the charm. Her wait pays off. Tap. Tap. Tap. Squawk! Was it some witch? No...the bird had sounded a ways off. Now knowing which direction to go in, the scrawny human jumps eagerly from tree to tree at a reckless pace. Thump. Each time she lands on a branch, it creates a constant din of rustling and somewhat-rapidly approaching body. Even if she's a lightweight, the ginger is no ninja. The woman arrives to the spot where she thinks she heard an answer. Nobody's there. She despairs, thinking for a moment that maybe she'd hallucinated again in her need for someone, anyone, to be out here.
A low voice rumbles in a not so distant stretch of trees. Eve drops down from her perch and jogs towards them. Hope shines brightly in her hazel eyes. Her unkempt mess of grease and sweat-stained hair flops with each step. With all the gusto of a young lovebird about to be reunited with a long lost lover, she picks up speed... and stops. Her heels dig into the earth as soon as the scene comes into view. One woman bloodied, a bird, the ground in disarray, and a man with the weapons that could have done it. For now, she watches with her back against a tree, clearly able to see and be seen by all parties. Even if she and the heavily injured woman worked together, both were weakened, and the man seemed strong. More importantly, keeping on his good side just might keep her alive.
A low voice rumbles in a not so distant stretch of trees. Eve drops down from her perch and jogs towards them. Hope shines brightly in her hazel eyes. Her unkempt mess of grease and sweat-stained hair flops with each step. With all the gusto of a young lovebird about to be reunited with a long lost lover, she picks up speed... and stops. Her heels dig into the earth as soon as the scene comes into view. One woman bloodied, a bird, the ground in disarray, and a man with the weapons that could have done it. For now, she watches with her back against a tree, clearly able to see and be seen by all parties. Even if she and the heavily injured woman worked together, both were weakened, and the man seemed strong. More importantly, keeping on his good side just might keep her alive.
Even in her certainty of her next way point, Riley couldn't bring herself to move. Not quite yet, anyway. The adrenaline was making its leave, and exhaustion weighed on her shoulders far more heavily than the wound in her arm. She took a shaky breath, noting how dry her mouth had become, before shifting herself upward. Yet, the sudden sensation of a newer presence looming over her had stopped her from making any further movements.
She turned her gaze up to the stranger with a piercing eye, her brows pinching together. He seemed humanoid enough, from what she could tell, but as of late she could never be too careful. She could only hope that his pointed weapon meant he wasn't entirely senseless. She pushed a puff of hot air through her nose, her scowl making his presence most welcome.
"Kindly get 'yer damned bow out of my face." She huffed, though didn't expect him to comply. After another moment, she cautiously continued. "We were attacked...didn't see it coming." She paused, turning her chin in the direction of her deceased partner. "Got far more lucky than the poor ol' bastard over there, don't 'yeh think?" The chuckle that followed her statement was more pained than genuine. "He tried to attack it. Protect me. But he, eh, he missed."
She pulled away the blood-soaked fabric of her shirt with a hiss, clearly using any last bit of strength she had left to make the most simple movements. She had managed to reveal the wound in her shoulder - the result of her partners' own weapon, his throwing knives. They were a treasure nowadays, but could be fatal when used in a panic. He let his emotions get the better of his judgement, and miscalculated the landing. It's what costed Riley so much blood, and what costed him his own life.
She turned her gaze up to the stranger with a piercing eye, her brows pinching together. He seemed humanoid enough, from what she could tell, but as of late she could never be too careful. She could only hope that his pointed weapon meant he wasn't entirely senseless. She pushed a puff of hot air through her nose, her scowl making his presence most welcome.
"Kindly get 'yer damned bow out of my face." She huffed, though didn't expect him to comply. After another moment, she cautiously continued. "We were attacked...didn't see it coming." She paused, turning her chin in the direction of her deceased partner. "Got far more lucky than the poor ol' bastard over there, don't 'yeh think?" The chuckle that followed her statement was more pained than genuine. "He tried to attack it. Protect me. But he, eh, he missed."
She pulled away the blood-soaked fabric of her shirt with a hiss, clearly using any last bit of strength she had left to make the most simple movements. She had managed to reveal the wound in her shoulder - the result of her partners' own weapon, his throwing knives. They were a treasure nowadays, but could be fatal when used in a panic. He let his emotions get the better of his judgement, and miscalculated the landing. It's what costed Riley so much blood, and what costed him his own life.
The old hunter's crossbow slowly lowered, contemplation ripe on his grizzled features. He listened to her tale for a while, and then finally sheathed his weapon completely when she showed him her wounds. It was too clean to be made by claw or teeth, so her story must have had some credit to it. With a deep frown and heavy sigh, he stepped forward to offer her his gnarled hand. Up close, it became obvious he was missing his left eye, or at least had damaged it- thick bandages covered it, obscuring the wound from vision.
"Crowley, at yaer service. Suppose we should get ya outta here, ain't no place to be wounded. They'll smell ya in no time," he grunted, taking off his hat for a moment and tucking it under his arm.
His wary gaze wandered over to the treeline, where a skinny, feminine looking figure stood. Ah, it must've been whatever the hell had been knockin' at the bark, he thought. He shook his head, groaning as he wondered just what he had got himself into. An injured "hunter" with a bit of an attitude, and a girl who appeared as if she liked to roll around in the dirt. Nevertheless, he rubbed his chin and cleared his throat.
"If yaer gonna be wanting out of this neck of the woods here, ya best be getting a move on over here, miss. I ain't playin' no game of chase here. Got a horse and wagon just ahead."
"Pathetic or not, we don't deserve thi-"
Samuel froze in his place, and as did the barkeep and the two drunks. Close, far closer than it had ever been before, a lone howl called out. There was a pause, and then, several more calls followed. They yapped and yipped among each other for a while, the monsters' discourses too near for comfort. There was no doubt that they were just beyond the town's gates.
"Damn it, Jones! Cut yer bloody light," he whispered in a harsh voice, looking more scared than ever.
The tender reached out to dim the lantern, but his shaky hands failed to fully grasp around its handle. Just as the light died, the torch fell to the floor and shattered with a deafening sound. No one moved. It was pitch black now, save for the two spare windows that had shoddy curtains covering them. Outside, the beasts had no doubt heard the commotion.
"Oh gods have mercy on us!" cried Jones, who vaulted over the counter and made a break for the door. He burst through it and slammed the entry behind him. It was the last anyone would see of him.
"Crowley, at yaer service. Suppose we should get ya outta here, ain't no place to be wounded. They'll smell ya in no time," he grunted, taking off his hat for a moment and tucking it under his arm.
His wary gaze wandered over to the treeline, where a skinny, feminine looking figure stood. Ah, it must've been whatever the hell had been knockin' at the bark, he thought. He shook his head, groaning as he wondered just what he had got himself into. An injured "hunter" with a bit of an attitude, and a girl who appeared as if she liked to roll around in the dirt. Nevertheless, he rubbed his chin and cleared his throat.
"If yaer gonna be wanting out of this neck of the woods here, ya best be getting a move on over here, miss. I ain't playin' no game of chase here. Got a horse and wagon just ahead."
"Pathetic or not, we don't deserve thi-"
Samuel froze in his place, and as did the barkeep and the two drunks. Close, far closer than it had ever been before, a lone howl called out. There was a pause, and then, several more calls followed. They yapped and yipped among each other for a while, the monsters' discourses too near for comfort. There was no doubt that they were just beyond the town's gates.
"Damn it, Jones! Cut yer bloody light," he whispered in a harsh voice, looking more scared than ever.
The tender reached out to dim the lantern, but his shaky hands failed to fully grasp around its handle. Just as the light died, the torch fell to the floor and shattered with a deafening sound. No one moved. It was pitch black now, save for the two spare windows that had shoddy curtains covering them. Outside, the beasts had no doubt heard the commotion.
"Oh gods have mercy on us!" cried Jones, who vaulted over the counter and made a break for the door. He burst through it and slammed the entry behind him. It was the last anyone would see of him.
The ginger watches the scene with all the caution of a startled rabbit. She remains frozen to the spot as she watches. First the man inspects the wound, then he looks at her. The head shake and groan aren't exactly comforting. For a moment her heart beats faster. Did she make the cut for...whatever? Did she want to? Her eyes slide over his figure - noting his weapons and attire from a new angle.
Not trusting herself to speak, she nods once and decides it doesn't matter if he's a serial killer. He has a horse and seems to hold the key in not becoming dinner for some beast. Though her instincts tell her to move away, she walks quickly to the fellow's die. Should he make his way to the horse and wagon, she'll follow in an instant. "I'm Eve," she figures an introduction won't be harmful.
Not trusting herself to speak, she nods once and decides it doesn't matter if he's a serial killer. He has a horse and seems to hold the key in not becoming dinner for some beast. Though her instincts tell her to move away, she walks quickly to the fellow's die. Should he make his way to the horse and wagon, she'll follow in an instant. "I'm Eve," she figures an introduction won't be harmful.
In the darkest of black, who will be there to lead? Not me, I'm busy finding a match to light a torch.
Errat drank the last of his wine, then stood up. He felt his way over to the door, where a few minutes ago Jones departed from the livings party. The door creeked as the were slowly opened. A foul stench were hanging in the air, blood had been spilt. Foot prints, shown by the clear night skies moonlight, lit him a path towards the happenings. He followed it towards the towns square. It were a small walk, as this weren't a town, just a little settlement, everyone knows everybody. The footprints turned into a trail of blood and paw and hoof prints, to big to be a wolf, but to small to be a bears. At the well in the middle of the settlement, a large figure stood, only lit by the beams of the moon, over the carcass of Jones, shredded to evisceration. The beast where turned red in the blood of the keep. No mercy had it shown, no remorse. It looked like man, in a darkened quick glance. Then it's full figure stepped forth, in all it's grotesque glory. The head of a horse with fangs of a cougar, the torso of a man, the hands of a wolf, and the hooves of goat. Blood dripped down it's jowls, it's claws unsheathed, fangs shown for the gaze of one man. It's long arms scraped along the ground, making lines with the knife long claws. Then it let out a deep and rumbling bellow, that could shake the ground with it vibrations. The beast began charge at Errat, hell burning in its eyes. He just stood there, arms out to the sides, ready to embrace the beast, not fearing it.
Errat drank the last of his wine, then stood up. He felt his way over to the door, where a few minutes ago Jones departed from the livings party. The door creeked as the were slowly opened. A foul stench were hanging in the air, blood had been spilt. Foot prints, shown by the clear night skies moonlight, lit him a path towards the happenings. He followed it towards the towns square. It were a small walk, as this weren't a town, just a little settlement, everyone knows everybody. The footprints turned into a trail of blood and paw and hoof prints, to big to be a wolf, but to small to be a bears. At the well in the middle of the settlement, a large figure stood, only lit by the beams of the moon, over the carcass of Jones, shredded to evisceration. The beast where turned red in the blood of the keep. No mercy had it shown, no remorse. It looked like man, in a darkened quick glance. Then it's full figure stepped forth, in all it's grotesque glory. The head of a horse with fangs of a cougar, the torso of a man, the hands of a wolf, and the hooves of goat. Blood dripped down it's jowls, it's claws unsheathed, fangs shown for the gaze of one man. It's long arms scraped along the ground, making lines with the knife long claws. Then it let out a deep and rumbling bellow, that could shake the ground with it vibrations. The beast began charge at Errat, hell burning in its eyes. He just stood there, arms out to the sides, ready to embrace the beast, not fearing it.
Though this entire interaction, Riley kept a sense of caution about her. Encountering a person who meant no harm was rare enough as it was. Her oddly striking blue eyes never left the aged hunter's figure. Even when he made the simplest of movements, like when he took a step forward, her hand twitched. At this moment she would have to take a breath, and remind herself that her abilities were always a fingertip's length away. She further analyzed his lived-in features once he removed his hat. There was something odd about his amber eyes that she couldn't quite place, but didn't have the nerve to mention it; she couldn't even muster the impulse to question the patch over his left eye, as she might have any other day.
"What are ya, some kinda rescue service? How do I know 'yer not some creep?" Riley's words were harsh, she knew well, but she wouldn't be taking any chances after the scene that unfolded minutes before.
She watched a while longer, as he redirected his gaze on something, someone, hiding in the shadows. Her brow quirked, and gradually she turned to the humanoid shape on which Crowley's eye was trained. She was admittedly taken aback when the figure spoke, introducing herself. After a few moments of contemplation, she reluctantly huffed a sigh of defeat.
"Call me Riley." With that gruff introduction, she used the trunk of a nearby tree to very gradually pull herself up. She winced with every odd turn, grasping at the last of her strength and holding on for dear life. Her eyes met the forest floor, a frown twisting her features. She had turned away from civilization for a long time, but Riley knew it was time to turn a new leaf, and accept the aid of another hunter.
"What are ya, some kinda rescue service? How do I know 'yer not some creep?" Riley's words were harsh, she knew well, but she wouldn't be taking any chances after the scene that unfolded minutes before.
She watched a while longer, as he redirected his gaze on something, someone, hiding in the shadows. Her brow quirked, and gradually she turned to the humanoid shape on which Crowley's eye was trained. She was admittedly taken aback when the figure spoke, introducing herself. After a few moments of contemplation, she reluctantly huffed a sigh of defeat.
"Call me Riley." With that gruff introduction, she used the trunk of a nearby tree to very gradually pull herself up. She winced with every odd turn, grasping at the last of her strength and holding on for dear life. Her eyes met the forest floor, a frown twisting her features. She had turned away from civilization for a long time, but Riley knew it was time to turn a new leaf, and accept the aid of another hunter.
You are on: Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » [open] Beast's Bane
Moderators: Mina, Keke, Cass, Claine, Sanne, Dragonfire, Ilmarinen, Darth_Angelus