The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

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Lief
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#16 Post by Lief »

Having said her piece and feeling no need to defend it, Caitria stayed silent for the rest of the conversation. Instead, she took the time to examine those around her. The ones that stood out, and the ones that were trying not to. There were a lot of people in the town, quite a few who she hadn't seen before. She assumed they had been transported there as she had. Most of the new faces looked like they could handle themselves, better than the townsfolk at least.

Caitria nodded courteously at Draven when he introduced himself, and while she didn't trust most with her name, it was only polite. Lying or ignoring him would do nothing but breed distrust. "Caitria."

Gawain nodded and sighed. “He is the prime example of my desire to help. It is saddening to see such despair and know there is little one can do to relieve it.” He nodded respectfully at the bearded man. “Well met, Draven. You may call me Gawain. I am this town’s smith of sorts.”

As the discussion died down and the mayor made his speech, if it could be called that, Caitria tugged lightly at Gawain's sleeve, playing the role of the innocent girl to drag him away from the group long enough to discuss something with a modicum of privacy.

Gawain felt the tug of Caitria’s arm on his sleeve and looked down at her with a brief flash of annoyance, although he quickly wiped that from his face with a more sombre visage. Caitria didn’t deserve his stress right now. “What, is something wrong?“ he asked, following her away from the crowd. “If it’s the mage, I felt it too. If not, then… Well, what’s wrong?”

If the flash of annoyance bothered her any, Caitria didn't show it. "Nothing is wrong, and yet everything is. The mage is not a problem, at the moment. I believe I know how we can help the townsfolk. I was not expecting them to be leaving today, that gives us an opportunity." She spoke quietly as soon as they were out of earshot from most. "I require your help, and experience as a military leader," she paused, watching the crowd disperse with the majority heading towards the communal armory. "We should go before there is nothing left, I can think of a few things that may be useful." With that, she turned and started towards the armory.

Gawain stared after her for a moment, mystified, before following. “I’ll have you know that Moralltach is all I need. You have your knives. What other equipment could you possibly hope to procure from this building?” He glanced back at the group he was talking with; Would they be safe? Would the rest of the villagers? As he gazed around at the faces - some terrified, some determined - he could only wonder who would live and who would die. The calculating, battle-ready part of his mind had arisen from its slumber, and like it or not, there was no turning back now.

"The makings for some traps. A bow would be nice, but I will not take a weapon from someone who may need it. Unless you have objections, we will stay in town for a day and set traps for those hunting us. For your part, I would like you to find anyone you consider trustworthy to assist us, but not too many. We need to stay a small group. As well, if you could talk to the town's hunters and have them conceal the tracks the townsfolk will inevitably leave... The town may have a chance."

Gawain internally relaxed, but he kept his mind sharp. “A sound plan,” he agreed. “From what I have heard, I have doubts that the traps will do much more than slow our captors’ progress. However, every… What is that endearing Human expression? Every minute counts. I will return with some able hands; Perhaps that giant and her brother. They seem as though they can lift their own wings, so to speak.”

Caitria nodded. "If we can make them believe that only a small group left..." She trailed off, the slightest of frowns breaking her otherwise neutral expression. "I will trust in your judgement, Lizard."

“… I’ve warned you about calling me that, softhide,” growled Gawain with a toothy grin. “Please do trust in my judgement; This is my area of expertise.” So said, he broke away from Caitria to find the group he was with before.

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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#17 Post by MrFlyingAmoeba »

Amelia shrugged. "Gold from straw, a foolish merchant is fondly remembered." Heavier armors only slowed her down, and she had never been trained in the use of any weapon save the staff. All of her needs could be filled from her own environment through magic if the need arose. There wasn't much she could do for the town now; she was no blacksmith. If she was going to make something, she had to grasp what she was trying to make, and she knew little of the forge and hammer. Instead, she was a competent cook, a vaguely acceptable weaver, and so on. Destruction was always so much easier than creation.

Her louder half was silent now, listening to those further away while she focused on the conversation with the pale mage and the massive Torlman. The petite mage frowned, watching the arrival of sudden tension in the taller woman. She leaned forward to the point of gathering the woman's attention but not her ire, head stooped and craned up with concerned smile and searching eyes. "So little cloth? I am a poor seamstress but I am generous with fabrics if you find your own stocks shortened." Her attention flickered over to the Torlman, fingers tapping her staff. "Supplier or not, so many will strain all crafters." Amelia looked pointedly at the small clusters of the more remarkable people still loosely gathered in the square.

"Unless they are in concert, yes?"
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#18 Post by TheNewGirl »

The petite mage leaned forward, smiling at Ta’vril "So little cloth? I am a poor seamstress but I am generous with fabrics if you find your own stocks shortened."

Ta’vril relaxed a slight bit. The smaller woman seemed nice, though a bit strange. Almost without thinking, she ran a finger along the gauzy fabric of her head scarf. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” Then the Torlman spoke.

"The mayor's suggestion is a good one. You should proceed to the armory to get whatever you need. I'll follow behind, but I won't be taking anything; I find most weapons quite useless, and most often too heavy, and armor is a no for anything beyond leather." He looked around. "And you'd do well to get there fast."

Ta’vril shot a glance at the large torlman, distrust clear on her face in her narrowed eyes and the tight line of her mouth. The smaller woman responded, "Supplier or not, so many will strain all crafters. Unless they are in concert, yes?"

“Violence will not serve my purpose, and I would not welcome your following me in my travels, regardless of our shared involvement in this forced pilgrimage.” Her voice emerged rather more coldly than she intended, but too late for her to do anything about it. A sense of approval radiated through her mind from Sei’lith. Instead of apologizing, which was her first instinct, Ta’vril directed her gaze back to the shorter woman. Her body language clearly dismissed the torlman from her attention.

“Again, I would like to offer my apologies for bumping into you. My name is Ta’vril. Perhaps we could travel together for a time as this pilgrimage begins. I have no intention of following the directions of these Cazador- I just want to resume my previous life and my previous service.”
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#19 Post by Stryder221 »

"I get what you're saying, ma'am." Oalei started, turning towards the newcomer in the conversation. "I may have been a bit harsh with my opinion of their strength, but these are... Perhaps not exactly trained, but definitely experienced killers they're going to eventually face. Do the townsfolk have any sort of experience with combat? No, and right now it'd only take-"

He was interrupted by the panicked shouts and screams of one particular part of the crowd. "...Exactly that, to make the populace begin rioting. Most likely won't be long before more start panicking." He finished, ending with a groan, soon glaring at the shouting man.
'We can't be having this. He needs dealing with, and quickly; He'll either start a riot or hurt someone, probably himself. As much as I want to, though, I probably shouldn't get involved...'

Oalei's attention was quickly returned to the conversation he'd used to be a part of. Names had been exchanged, and he didn't want to seem rude about it. "In the case we do end up traveling together, you may call me Trefor. And this giant of a woman next to me would be my sister, Dowra. She doesn't talk much."
And speaking of his sister, he was surprised "Dowra" hadn't gotten more attention than she'd already received so far. The only being here he'd saw that was even close to her height was a large Torlman, and even then he was a foot or so shorter.

"I'm gonna head to the armory with everyone else, see if I can find a shield or something..." He soon said after the outsider, Gawain, had left. "A crossbow wouldn't be a bad idea, either. Perhaps I'll see you lot later, you seem an alright type."

And with that, he and his sister had departed, making their way towards the armory at a slightly rushed pace. Hopefully, something useful would still be there by the time they arrived.
E͎͖̯̱̻͡r̲͇r͢҉͈͚ò͈̹̰̩̺͓̝̘̟̕r̨̡̺̥̲̰͕̭̬:̵͙̦̟̮̖̯̞́͢ ̴̛̞̙͙̠̲̝̟S̵͎̼̖̜̯͕̺͔̀i̶͉̟̝̻͕̺g̢̤͕n̴͈̩̝͓͖̹͕̟͢a͕̺̱͞ț̸̛͓u̢̥̣̣̰̪ͅr̨̠͙̯̣̣̘̠ḛ̡̨̟̗̥̰̱̻ͅ ̻̮̼̥͕̼͉͎u͏͔̳n͏͔͈̭̭͟a̮͕͖̲͕͙͔ͅv̺̦̼̥̭͙a͏҉̦̺̫̯i̝̙̳̜l̴̡̳̥͠a̢̘̬͈͢ͅb̶̶̦͉͙́ḷ̸̙̙̳̩̥́e͔̪̳̦̫͚̪̹ͅ.͖̠̗͔̖̞ͅ

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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#20 Post by InceptionBwaaa »

"Very well," Samos said, venom in his voice. He considered cutting away at this Ta'vril with diabolical insults, but then realized that she had reason to be wary. Not only was Samos an abnormally tall person, even for a Torlman, he stunk of necromancy, even to the point that the magically inept could tell. But, of course, he could tell that neither of the two were magically inept. He calmed himself, and prepared to speak again.

"Whether violence suits your purpose or not, it is an unfortunate fact of life, especially now." He glanced around some more, spotting for the first time a massive woman, even taller than he. Samos's voice left him for a moment, and he looked back, clearing his throat. "And you cannot deny that greater numbers, especially skilled, are imperative to survival."

Sei'lith felt a jolt of glee run through it. Here it had been, waiting to find something to get the girl to move, and this bird had given it the go ahead. As much as you should distrust this one, it speaks true Ta'vril. You are no fighter, nor am I. Neither of us desire death. There are several capable fighters here. Or at least imposing people of incredible stature. Find someone to keep yourself safe. If only to ensure that the bird doesn't make your bones dance.
Sei'lith poured sincerity into its words. She would doubt its words, but it knew the girl would also see the logic in them. Once things began moving, Sei'lith could more properly direct them. The stagnation of this city grated on its being.

Ta'Vril glanced once more at the Torlman, her gaze still cold and aloof.
"I am going to accompany Amelia, if she consents to my presence. Whether or not you follow is of no interest to me."She turns away from him again, then changes her mind and faces him with her shoulders squared to him. Should I perish, you do not have permission to disturb my spirit in any manner, least of all by imprisoning me in a cage of my own dead flesh. If you attempt to revive me through your necromancy you shall find the consequences... Unpleasant."
This was not strictly true, as she didn't know if her bond with Sei'Lith would end with her death, but that was of little importance.

"You have my word: I will not reanimate your corpse in any way should you die along this journey." Samos extended a feathered hand. "Samos Mai'ahl Gol, at your service."
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#21 Post by Geo_&_Bio »

The mayor’s face began to drain significantly with every word that came out of Brob’s mouth. “Oh gods, why?” the mayor rubbed his annoyed face with his padded hand in absolute anguish. The sheriff himself wasn't very pleased either and decided to take it in his own hands. The sheriff jumped down from the platform and moved towards the farmer with many outbursts. The sheriff pulled out his cavalry sword and grabbed Brob by the collar, resting the blade upon Brob’s neck. “Alright, I had it up to here with you, Brob. Your drunken outbursts have pissed me off, but now my anger is truly unadulterated. You shut your face, grab a weapon and live or continue to shout like a bloody madman and be killed right here, right now. I swear to you, Nay I swear to all of you panic stricken people that if you follow everything that I say to the point than you will more than likely survive; if you decide to wallow pathetically like a coward, then I can guarantee your death.” Some of the people backed off, unsure with how to deal with the current situation at hand. “I…apologize, but this has got out of hand. We can win this stupid game, but only if you lot follow everything I say, exactly how I say it. Right now, ya’ll will get your weapons from the armory now. Anyone who can’t fight will haul the food from the granary. Meet me back here to get some lessons on how to use a spear and shield. Follow Polad over there to get some lessons on crossbows and harkbuses.” The town’s people calmed exponentially now that the sheriff has taken charged, possibly through fear or perhaps a little inspiration. They all nodded and whispered as the lazily went to the armory and granary. “Go! Like, gone!” The Sheriff enforced as the people began to move even faster as a response. The Sheriff climbed back up on the platform in order to prepare himself. The mayor looked around, looking for someone. “Sheriff, do you know where your deputy is? Didn’t you say he was also cut as well?” The Sheriff nodded, “Aye, he is back in the office, trying to collect his thoughts. Poor kid broke to pieces when he read that letter.”
_____
Wal’nagga watched as the man named Trefor walked away towards the armory. She dwelled on the question “Do they have any sort of experience with combat?” She huffed a small and inaudible reply, fruitlessly still defending the integrity of the people. “More than you realized.” She announced under her breathe. She must admit, however, that some of the town’s people were not combat material, not all were ready to kill at a moment’s notice, such as the large and in charge mayor and the loud and uncouth Brob who was now shouting to the heavens of his aforementioned demise. Brob was always a weird one, but for some reason, his outburst seemed…forced. Nevertheless, the Sheriff had forced Brob at sword point to end his surge of panic. She then focused on the town’s people themselves and remembered, anyone who lives in Gutesova is not here because the place is nice: Knird the knife player, rumor had it that he killed knights with his knife, loved to get up close and personal; Polad the hunter, rarely in town and prefers to be alone in his deer hunting shack; Carter the brute, once heard he literally smashed a man’s face in with only his fists. These were the people who were known well through and through within the town; anyone who has lived here, knows them by name and actively seeks to avoid them.

She noticed that many of the town’s folk who grabbed a weapon and shield from the armory and headed off back to the Sheriff, who is now conducting a crash course of battle tactics. The Sheriff is a mysterious character all on his own, even Carter and Knird would back away from him, in either respect or fear she wasn’t entirely sure. The elf was very good at all things battle related and weapon related. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, the man was from the Ashlands, same as her, and she knew how terrifying the battles and wars are out there. She, like many others who feel either comfortable with their skill in combat or uncomfortable with the weapons that they were given and chose to carry the food instead, stayed off to the side and watch the very small and unorganized battle training.

___________

“Alright, I know that this is all ham-handed, but I will teach you everything you need to know about spears and crossbows. It is not everything I can explain, but it is everything that you absolutely NEED to know before even thinking about killing someone with that spear.” The Sheriff announced, repeating his phrase for extra clarity. “The spear is an important weapon in warfare, because it exploits our stupidity; it is basically designed to kill anything that is charging at you. Charging bandits? Stupid. Charging swordsmen? Stupid. Charging knights? Oh you best believe they are incredibly stupid.” He mocked to prove his point for the usage of the spear. The armed people were laughing, one in particular wearing some sort of outfit from his old days. “People are just so willing to jump on your spear; they practically do half the work for you.” The Sheriff continued to mock the intelligence of almost everyone, almost akin to the fashion of a salesman pitching the usefulness of the spear. To many, the spear seemed underwhelming compared to the sword, but the Sheriff seemed to be the most prized weapon of choice. The Sheriff went into detail about how to use the spear, primarily underarm style for distance and overarm for close combat, using formations to keep one’s self and his or her partners safe from harm, and how being calm and listening to the Sheriff’s orders will keep them alive.

What a great and foolish gesture. The Mayor thanked the Sheriff for his contribution and prays that he will teach the rabble more appropriately while marching to fulfill their forced destiny. “Alright, you bunch. We don’t have all the time today, and you all are still far from being a cohesive unit; hell, you’re all far from being an actual threat. However, What I taught here today will carry over. You listen and internalize what I have said and you will be a force worth your salt.” The mayor clapped with glee. “Thank you dear sheriff, but our time has come.” He raised his hands up into the air as if to bask in some glorious spotlight as he presents his announcement. “We are ready…”He waited for dramatic pause, “…to start the.!?.”

Abruptly, there was a sound, a sound so foreign to many and familiar to some. It was a roar of a dragon that spits fire. A dragon of wood and iron puffed its smoke upon the fear stricken mob. The dragon carried by a shadow wearing a Chapel de fer upon a nearby roof overlooking the town square with the platform has made the Mayor into the headless poltergeist that fell from the stage and into the crowd. The Sheriff didn’t hesitate after hearing that horrifying dragon bark; he grabbed his own dragon, his own arquebus of steel, wheellock mechanism for any situation, and aimed it at the murderer. There was no thought, no rational reason, no mindless terror, only the reaction of a warrior that has now dropped the twisted villain from the roof. The Sheriff placed a hole a size of a rat into the man who sniped the mayor. Such attempts at redemption were futile as a shower of arrows rained from the sky. People left and right were being struck down, pinned by a hailstorm of wooden shafts piercing the bodies bellow. The town’s folk tried to hide under anything they could to survive the wooden rain of death. To add to the additional destruction, a hoard of dark red and black leather padded soldiers rushed into the fray to begin their slaughter. “Get in formation!” the Sheriff yelled to retaliate, his eyes were gone, transported back into the days of old with his thousand mile stare of death. “formation now!”

(Mission Updated: Escape the doomed town.)
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#22 Post by the red soldier »

Ysst had heard the remark about the deputy. Yes, he would do, for now at least. It didn't take long after the Sheriffs intimidation for Brob to disappear. Truthfully, a cut to the neck would not even had hurt Ysst. He would have fallen over, played dead then quietly slither away while nobody was looking.

He quickly reached the sheriff's office. Anyone noticing Brob would have seen a different man then. Someone who was panicking mere minutes earlier would not look so... neutral... so lifeless in face and eye. Truthfully Ysst was rushing things, not caring for his disguise at all, merely maintaining the basic shaped of the once Brob. He knew if discovered, this mass of stressed peasant would be easy to slip out of.

Once inside the office. Ysst quickly lost all his bodily shape. His flesh twisted and mended, stretched and bunched into a strange ever shifting Blob. The eyes simply dropped to the ground as his face became pale and featureless. There was no longer any footsteps to be heard as he slithered on the ground like some kind of demonic half snake half man until he finally heard what he wanted to hear, the muttering of a man, the deputy. He seemed to have looked himself in a cell, probably with the thought that it would protect him.

The man seemed unarmed, a mistake for him. Turning around the deputy noticed Ysst "staring" at him. The abomination in front of him slowly approached the cell bars, seemingly going through them like a ghost. The Depute wanted to scream but the sight in front of him was so surreal he wasn't even sure if he was imagining it. No matter, the abomination protruded an arm from its chest and like a coiled whip it sprang for the deputy's neck, seemingly snapping it in the process. The hand dragged the lifeless corpse towards Ysst as the body was absorbed into the blob of flesh. Slowly it became to morph and shape, to twist and bend into a recognizable shape. Then the eyes protruded from the head, Ysst was now the Deputy.

Five minutes later

After grabbing a mace and a small buckler shield from the office's small personal armory, the sheriff's own weapons actually, that's when Ysst started hearing screaming and howling from the general direction of the crowd . The deputy, in a right state of mind of course, would have run to help but every instinct made Ysst want to run away in the shadows.

Fighting every possible urge of his natural being, he slid closer, into the shadows, to watch. Ysst wanted to leech on to a professional group and he wanted to at least watch if any in this mass of dimwits can hold their own.
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#23 Post by InceptionBwaaa »

Samos had said his temporary farewells and had gone to search for others to support their collective cause. He probed through the crowds, searching for anyone with some magical presence. He found one especially powerful one -- two, actually, but so close that they were practically a single mage. He made his way towards the aura when a loud crashing boom caught his attention. He turned just in time to see the mayor, falling to the ground, headless.

"Two days sure went by quick!" Samos shouted, his entire form changing. He readied himself for combat, his arms outstretched. In his hands, lightning danced and arced, fiercely awaiting a target. Before he could think, a flurry of arrows came through the sky. He aimed his hands upward and released his maelstrom into the deadly cloud, frying them out of the air. A few landed nearby, and one landed with a thunk by his foot. He looked around, spotting the Mayor's corpse. If he were to stand up and start walking, it would confuse these men very much, and they might try to kill him again. In the meantime, he would summon a familiar; a bobcat, most preferably. He decided against playing with the mayor's bones, and instead focused his mind on conjuration, at which point he sent his familiar to the witch. The familiar approached Wal'nagga, its ears back against its head. It seemed to tell her to follow.

Wal’nagga dipped and dived away from the incoming fire and soldiers that were storming the very town. She wanted to stay and fight, but she realized that her career choices were not truly suited for direct combat. What a strange and horrifying day: the hunters that wish us dead told us that we were given two days in order to prepare. Rotten [censored] giving us rotten luck with their rotten honor. Wal’nagga hid within the alleyways of the town, trying to stay out of sight reach. She was then greeted by the strange beast, a cougar perhaps? A possibility. “Very curious, a time like this and I am intercepted by an animal.” It gave some sort of animal code for “follow me”, surely must be a familiar, no beast she has ever heard from would know how to help her let alone cared too. She heard the scream of a rabid man going through house by house trying to find more people like her, “cut throats” they spewed out. What an original moniker. The scream got louder and Wal’nagga raised her lamp, whispering something to it. The lamp burst into flames and sent a fireball straight to the screaming leathered man, burning him to a crisp. “Fine, little beast. Lead the way.”

The familiar led Wal'Nagga through alleys, behind battles, and even up some stairs, into a vacant inn room where stood a large Torlman.

"Greetings, fellow mage. My name is Samos. I sensed your skill in the arts, and I thought that you would make a wonderful addition to a group I've found." He cleared his throat, extending a feathered hand in greeting.

Wal’nagga was surprised to find the conjuration’s caster, a tall bird man currently within the vacant inn. The bird introduced himself as Samos, a savant who tickled the art of magic. She was thrown off at the introduction, such a formal attitude in such an event of disarray and chaos merely steps outside. Something was also off about this caster’s presence; the magical aura seemed twisted and deranged. Wal’nagga extended her arm out in hesitation, “Charmed.” She replied. “Boy you’re a gods damned creepy [censored], aren’t ya.” Svir interrupted rudely. Wal’nagga tapped the lamp with force, trying to keep her little light source from continuing any more uncouth replies. “I apologize for my lamp.” Wal’nagga enforced. “I am Wal’nagga, the ashen witch. Forgive me, but I am a bit hesitant at such an aura as yours. In my homeland, such magic was even considered taboo by the Walkhanate, those known for meddling in magical affairs at their own leisure. Pray tell, were you the one who defiled the poor mayor’s body?” She inquired. Wal’nagga noticed something weird going on outside of the inn itself.
_________
The fighting continued outside, the Sheriff leading his band of misfits and peasants out of the town of Gutesova. The sky became evermore dark, the lights dimming to a blood red. A Spell has been cast to ruin their vision. “Push through lads, push through, but stay in formation.” The Sheriff spewed his haunting commands. “Let them jump unto your spears, pierce their bodies with your spear lads.” The raiders rushed towards their spear lines, some actually rushing into the spears and impaling themselves, others rushing past the spears to get up really close and striking some down, some are even brave enough to crawl underneath the spear defense and striking their legs with relative ease, only to be killed by Knird. The battle rages profusely and it doesn’t seem like the invaders will end their crusade.

______
Wal’nagga noticed the sky changed dramatically, not a natural sunset and it was far too early. The sky seemed like it was light by an eerie glow of a single candle. She turned to the bird known as Samos, “It doesn’t seem like we should be chatting. I feel like something bad is about to happen.” A couple of hefty grunts echoed outside, a giant metallic figure pushed through from behind the town’s formation. Its sword swinging through people like butter, such strength and composure is truly imposing, enough for any man to run in pure fear. “Perhaps it is already too late.”
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#24 Post by Stryder221 »

Spoiler!
[I apologize for what looks like a text wall, and one that is likely filled with a few errors, but I've no interest in spending even more time editing this than I already have.]
While the crossbows were long gone by the time he got there, Oalei found that there were still a few serviceable shields remaining. Turns out the townsfolk would rather stay at range, though to their credit, there were a few brave souls willing to take up the spear or the sword. He himself managed to find an average size round shield of mostly wooden make, with a protrusion in the center made of what he believed to be iron.

It was a bit too light for his liking, and a bit too large, but hopefully it was still sturdy. Anyway, armor was well and good, but a decent shield and the skill to use it went a lot further. He just hoped the damn thing wouldn't break apart; That was a very real risk, especially in intense combat. Right now, though, he'd just have to get used to it.

Unfortunately for his sister, there was not one piece of equipment suited for her. She paused briefly as she looked over the selection; She was thinking about something, that much was certain. Another second later, Lorym had shook her head, apparently dismissing whatever idea was floating around in her head.

-----------------

The two siblings would later be found watching the training the town's sheriff had begun. A careful eye would've noticed Oalei's frown as said sheriff openly insulted the intelligence of charging knights. He couldn't deny it, put the townsfolk in a line formation with pikes, and it could indeed decimate a basic charge.

There really wasn't much to say about it.

The training session over with, Oalei looked up expectantly to the mayor, knowing what he was likely to say already. He just wished the fatcat would get it over with, none of this dramatic pause nonsense.

He froze upon hearing the noise, the loud bang, his eyes wide in disbelief. It was a sort of noise he'd heard only a few times in his life, and one he desperately wished never to hear again. He just stood there for a moment, staring at the now headless corpse of what used to be the mayor.

His shocked expression twisted into one of rage as he drew his blade, raising his shield as he faced the opposite direction. He saw the flurry coming down, and as he raised his only defense over his head, he heard the crackle of lightning over all the noise, including the noise of a few arrows striking into his shield. To his right, he saw his sister had loaded one of her last few crystals into that contraption of hers, aiming it into the sky to let loose a great gust of wind in an attempt to deflect the deadly projectiles.

There were two possible explanations for this sudden attack. Either the Cazador lied, which was his first assumption, or... "Those sneaky sons of [censored]...!" He cursed. This attack didn't strike him as the style of talented hunters and fighters the Cazador supposedly were. Even if it was, they'd surely be better armed. Abusing loopholes to get people after them, however... "They're common thugs! Mercenaries! Those Cazador [censored] sent them after us! Never said anything about getting someone else to do their dirty work!"

The problem with shouting that was that he'd announced his presence to everything hostile right then and there. Seeing at least three of the leather-clad killers rushing towards him, he steeled himself for combat. He was caught in the open away from the majority of his allies, but he wasn't going out without a fight.

The moment the individuals came within swinging distance, Oalei lunged forward with shield raised. He crashed into one of the fighters, bowling him over as he slashed to his right at another who had his own blade knocked away from trying to hastily parry the oddly heavy weapon, allowing Oalei to lunge again and swing diagonally down, chopping directly into the neck, the blade tearing through the hardened leather with only some difficulty. Tearing his blade out of the fighter's neck, he whirled around just in time to block a thrust intended for his back, the short blade sliding off the wooden shield purposefully angled to cause said sliding, and swung at the enemy's unprotected left side. Unfortunately, this one had the smarts to back off upon being blocked, and the one he'd recently knocked over had just now recovered to his feet.

They'd expected another defenseless townie, but upon realizing he could and would fight back, had adapted a smarter tactic than charge and kill. This one being quickly circle around him. One took the right side, and the other his left. The idea was simple and obvious, flank him and one would stab him in the back while he was busy dealing with the other. If he was alone, this tactic might have succeeded.

Thing was, he wasn't alone. For some damn reason, the two failed to take into account the ten-foot tall giant carrying a huge hammer. A loud crash and a very brief scream of pain was heard as Lorym's hammer came down onto the head of the rightmost soldier, crushing his skull, spine, and pretty much any bone in the space between his head and feet into a powdery substance. The remaining soldier paused, staring with horror at the giant of a woman lifting the oversized hammer off the bloody mess that had been his ally.

Seeing his opportunity, Oalei lunged, plunging his blade into the man's side during the brief hesitation, twisting said blade a tad before violently tearing it out. He didn't even wait for the soldier to collapse of blood loss before rushing to his sister's side. The scuffle had caught some attention, but the raiders who'd witnessed it were giving them, or more specifically his sister, a wide berth, not wanting to get within swinging distance of the intimidating figure's deadly hammer. But who knew how long that would last? He doubted the riflemen would mind the rapidly darkening sky.

Then they'd promptly ignore Lorym, at least if he had anything to say about it. The spell was easy to cast, it took only a few moments for him to put it into effect. He didn't know how many of the soldiers were being affected, they were still avoiding him somewhat, but that wouldn't last. Hopefully, whatever riflemen there were would now pay no mind to the huge target that his sister was.

But spell or no spell, it would do no good with him dead. He had to get into formation. He got lucky the first time, but these soldiers would cut him to pieces if he let himself get caught again, giant or no giant. Without further thought, he rushed off to join the formation the townsfolk had formed, sheathing his blade and snatching up a spear from one of the fallen as he planned to fall in line.

What he saw before then made his blood freeze. Someone, something, a giant of a creature not unlike his sister cutting through the people as if wheat to a scythe. He couldn't see it very well in this damnable lighting, but it was metallic, and therefore armored in some fashion. Worse still, it had come up behind the formation, apparently catching the would-be militia by surprise.

He was wrong, these weren't just common thugs... What chance did he stand against something like that? What chance did any of them stand?

Whatever hope Oalei had for some kind of victory was now gone. "We... We can't win this battle." He'd said to his sister, backing away from the nightmarish scene. Dropping his spear, he did something he was sure he would hate himself for later in the future; Run from battle.

"Oalei, what are you-?!" He heard his sister exclaim in shock as he rushed past her, losing focus on the perception filter as he did so. Only moments later Oalei heard her take chase after him, but he didn't care.

He took a turn into one of the first alleyways he saw in an effort to stay out of sight, and just continued running. Lorym was led through the alleys and behind the battles in her attempt to follow him, and in the end, he ended up ducking inside a vacant inn. "Have you lost your mind?!" She'd all but shouted upon catching up, barging through the front door in time to see her brother, now without robe and his armor made visible for all the world to see, haphazardly balling up said robe and stuffing it into his pack, all the while cursing.

Both were completely unaware of the conversation that had been taking place upstairs.

"Maybe I have, Lorym." Oalei said, shaking his head as he slung the pack once more onto his back. "But lost my mind or not, I know for a fact that if we stay in this town, we're not getting out alive. There's nothing we can do for these people now, all we can try to do is save ourselves!"
E͎͖̯̱̻͡r̲͇r͢҉͈͚ò͈̹̰̩̺͓̝̘̟̕r̨̡̺̥̲̰͕̭̬:̵͙̦̟̮̖̯̞́͢ ̴̛̞̙͙̠̲̝̟S̵͎̼̖̜̯͕̺͔̀i̶͉̟̝̻͕̺g̢̤͕n̴͈̩̝͓͖̹͕̟͢a͕̺̱͞ț̸̛͓u̢̥̣̣̰̪ͅr̨̠͙̯̣̣̘̠ḛ̡̨̟̗̥̰̱̻ͅ ̻̮̼̥͕̼͉͎u͏͔̳n͏͔͈̭̭͟a̮͕͖̲͕͙͔ͅv̺̦̼̥̭͙a͏҉̦̺̫̯i̝̙̳̜l̴̡̳̥͠a̢̘̬͈͢ͅb̶̶̦͉͙́ḷ̸̙̙̳̩̥́e͔̪̳̦̫͚̪̹ͅ.͖̠̗͔̖̞ͅ

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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#25 Post by Ranalf »

Rana stood there this whole time, robed in a crowd of unidentifiable people. Just one in the many, but unlike this many, she had no idea what was going on in even the vaguest sense. In one hand was a letter she couldn't read, and in front of her was a bunch of people yelling in a language she couldn't quite get a grip on. She understood fragments, hearing words such as 'pilgrimage' or 'drunken'. She'd watch, confused as all the villagers started to scramble around. She had no idea what was going on and just stood aside, watching silently.

She soon spoke to herself, "<How strange. So much yelling around here, but...I wish they'd speak normally.>"

So she sat there; watching the people train curiously for the whole time, hardly moving as she observed as a rather loud man was calling them all bad names, supposedly by how some of the people reacted, and constantly talking. She then turned around and watched everyone else a bit, seeing people scrambling and scraping together lots of food and miscellaneous items. It was all very curious to her, as she hardly understood why everyone was panicking.

However, once the screaming and the fighting started, she understood a bit more as the red and black coated bandits assaulted the town following the assassination of the mayor. She instantly noticed she might want to move away from the battle just in time to avoid the storm of arrows. She dived into a alleyway off to the side of the town square. But it wasn't safe either. As she looked back, a bandit dived out of the alleyway and grabbed her, flinging her farther into the alley. "What do we have here? Quite a pretty catch..." he said just as he threw her deeper into the alley.

Her hood flew off her head, revealing her horns and the scales on the far sides of her cheeks. "Nice horns, girlie. Maybe I'll keep them as trophies, wouldn't that be nice?" he asked rhetorically with a laugh as he touched one of her horns with the edge of an axe.

Once her mind translated that, combined with his touching of her horns, her eyes grew furious. Soon, she took a deep breath and roared, her beast-like roar clashing with the one from the iron dragon as magic swarmed into her gut. It was only a few short seconds before the roar changed into fire breath, bright blue sparks coming out of her mouth before suddenly a large plume of brilliant blue fire bloomed out. A good brunt of the blaze even going out of the alleyway with the ferocity of her anger.

The bandit had no chance to dodge at this range and was subsequently burnt to a crisp. The flames lingered on his corpse, giving the former Cazador bandit a black crust as Rana stood, staring at the effects of her fire.

She then said, "<Oh no...I'm going to get in trouble for this, aren't I?!>" she panicked as she scrambled to think of what to do as she put her hood up and looked around nervously.
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#26 Post by Myperson54 »

Don't just let them ignore me! A brief twitch of her eyes heralded the shoving aside of Amelia's usual personality. Clearing her throat noisily, Amelia waved a wild goodbye at the departing Torlman. "Amelia Verdalm, don't forget!" Attention returning to Ta'vril, she posed proudly with hands on hips, tossing her head. The brown hood slipped off, although the effect was deflated by the sensibly tied hair refusing to move from its bun. "Since you already know my name, I'll make you something nice later on the way to wherever we go."

Gawain strode swiftly back to the place where he had been talking with the other warriors, using his wings to guide the milling crowd out of his path. Even with his head standing so high above the humans, he was unable to locate the Giantess or the one called Draven. Harumphing with annoyance, he stood in place for a second and noticed the small group of mages still taking in the square. Magical traps are as good as any, he thought, annoyed that he could not find any hunters. As he approached, he felt the same shiver of evil he had experienced previously; There was something to be avoided here. however, as the Torlman left, it waned in intensity. Shrugging it off, he decided planning was more important. "Greetings," he rumbled, "You may call me Gawain. I have a plan which involves trapping Gutesova, in an attempt to slow down our hunters temporarily. I apologize for the abrupt introduction, but I must know if either of you are capable of setting magical traps."

Sei'lith loosed a calming aura, a friendly one. Something to put the massive lizard into a protective mood towards Ta'vril. It wasn't as good as implanting an urge to protect the girl, but it was the most Sei'lith felt necessary. It would take a rather heartless person to abandon someone as defenseless as Ta'vril. We have some small skill that may be of use to you, Lord Gawain. Speaking aloud for the first time, Sei'lith put a meek, humble tone into its voice. I am afraid for my carrier though. I am not powerful enough to do much to defend her, either against magic or the blades of the pursuers.

“I can do that.” Amelia declared, puffing up her slim frame with outthrust chin and squinting eyes apparently meant for a more noble suggestion of valor. Can we walk upon the air? Speak to equals, not for slaves or wares. “Um.” She faltered. “Not magical, though. Just regular traps. Made with magic. That’s just as good, right?”

Gawain flinched at the new voice's appearance, but held back whatever apprehension he was feeling. "Of course," he assured the pair, his words answering both concerns. The tip of his tail flicked back and forth in serpentine impatience. "This plan is to ensure the extended security of Gutesova; I include you both in that number." Looking about, he pointed towards the village gates. "Traps set just inwards of the main gate would be ideal for slowing-"

He was cut off as said gates were torn off their hinges and arrows began raining from the sky. Gawain immediately took a low stance and reached for his sword, only to find it missing. "Moralltach...." he groaned. "The traps are no longer a priority. We are going to my house on the far side of the village. We need my sword and supplies if we are to survive the day."

All too easy to ensure the spirit thought to itself. This giant lizard was already a fairly fearsome sight, and it wouldn't be hard to improve on that. Carefully screening the girl and the two soul, Sei'lith cast a relatively simple spell. Any of the soldiers attacking the lizard would find themselves seeing him through a terrifying lens. Regardless of what they feared, Gawain's appearance would be altered for them. With smug satisfaction that its part in this endeavor was complete, it prepared to observe and savor the oncoming storm.

Gawain felt calm creep over him like a warm breeze - Whether this was the result of Sei'lith's influence or simply the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he cared not. He was going to live to tell this tale, and he'd be damned if he humans dies along with him. "Follow," he commanded. Turning his back to the army, he began to jog, speeding up until he was flat-out sprinting, cutting through the writhing mass of limbs which was the courtyard like a hot knife through butter. Glancing back to make sure the humans were following, he continued away from the invading army until they had almost reached his house at the edge of the village.
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#27 Post by Lief »

Caitria squeezed into the armory in the middle of the civilians gathering gear. Most of the armory's contents got grabbed up in a very short time, mostly spears, crossbows, and shields. No bows. For good reason, she assumed. Bows were hard to use without proper training or at least lots of practice. Crossbows were a good choice for arming a hastily-formed militia.

She mostly waited until the townsfolk had moved on, but managed to scarf up a bunch of miscellaneous objects and a backpack to carry them all in. They'd work well for making traps, but not much else. She also scooped up a quiver of bolts that had been left behind, apparently more of those than there were crossbows. She stuck around for a bit longer, dismantling some already-broken weapons to the best of her abilities.

After a few minutes, the backpack was full of various parts for making traps. "Now all I need is some wi-" She was cut off by the roar of a rifle from outside, it sounded like it came from the town square. All hell broke loose in the moments that followed, panicked screaming and shouting of orders.

"So they resort to mercenaries to exploit loopholes? How wonderful." Caitria spoke aloud, to herself. She dropped the backpack and hastily scrounged up a few items she'd passed by earlier. Namely, a handful of heavy knives. Clearly of poor make, they had a dull edge and improper balance, likely used by a butcher in the past. They'd work well enough for her purposes, however.

Mapping a route in her head, Caitria exited the armory and darted into an alleyway, unexpectedly running into an enemy soldier. She hesitated for only a moment, taking a step back before launching one of the heavy blades at the man. It imbedded itself into the soldier's gut, down and to the right of where she was aiming. Definitely poor balancing, she'd have to compensate in the future. He hunched over and yelled in pain. Not immediately lethal, but incapacitating enough for her to get past. Ignoring his screech of pain, she ran forward, kicking off the wall and using his back as a stepping stone. She landed running.

The second enemy encounter ended just as quick as it started. Caitria exited an alleyway to find another soldier standing over the body of one of the townsfolk. Jakobs, if she recalled. A baker. The soldier spotted her and shouted something that she ignored, launching a knife which imbedded in the soldier's chest. She continued past the two corpses, ducking into another alley and rapidly approaching the edge of town in the direction of Gawain's home.

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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#28 Post by InceptionBwaaa »

Wal'nagga peered outside to notice the metallic brute stomping away at the poor townsfolk. She could hear it make a disturbing and terrifying roar as it slices men in two with its cleaver of a sword. She stood there helpless as the sheriff fought back against it, shooting it down when given the chance. Unfortunately, the beast seems to shrug off blows from any weapon with ease. “What shall we do, newly aligned partner? Do you think your other magical cohorts would be of assistance against such a terrifying monster?” Small bit of light has shined upon the armored beast, it appears to be a giant metal cladded knight with a strange symbol upon its stomach area. It is undoubtedly human-like, but the insides of the armor is still a mystery, a horrific mystery that Wal'nagga is comfortable not finding out. “I say this as I truly do not wish to leave the townspeople that have cared for me to die in such a manner. Surely there is someway to help them.” She instead towards Samos.

Samos, still gazing at the knight, had begun to formulate a plan. He pondered many ideas, soon coming to the prospect of transmutation. He turned to Wal'Nagga.

"Miss, I wonder if you are knowledgeable in transmutation? If so,you could turn this Knight's armor into dirt, or rust, or a cloud of shrapnel directed inward." He thought for a moment. "If you are not, perhaps you could assist me in sending a psychic message to any mages in this skirmish to do so?"

Wal'nagga pondered over the discussion, in theory she could turn that brute's armor into ash or even hot molten iron with enough time for significant blows to destroy that giant with ease. “I could, but it would require me to touch him and getting personal with that monster is certainly the opposite of ideal. My transmutation magic is hardly worth its salt in this scenario.” She enforced against using her transmutation to fight back. “However, I could brew three reliable potions of iron eating within the minute. I have the materials and the potion should be enough to chew through the metal with relative ease.” She suggested as she started to pull out some materials, an alchemical stand and flasks for the preparation from her Bag of Holding. She snapped her fingers and flames arose within the alchemical stand, poured water in the flasks and threw the materials in their respective containers. As the materials were brewing, she turned to Samos. “I do worry, however, that this may not entirely work. That armor is proofed from what we have just saw, surely a lot of money was placed into that armor. Who knows what other proofing it could contain. I will aid you in sending a message towards others who may be more qualified to transmute that armor into a much more desirable outcome. More options open, the better and I have yet heard of an armor that is resistant to the arcane itself.” She pulled out her Book of Enchanting and opened a page towards a spell known as “Fire Communion”, describing the effects of ash tending messages to desired people within a certain radius, the more arcane users there are present to help with the spell, the better the radius and message sent. She snapped her fingers as flames begin to form a circle around them both and she began to chant. “Dearest beloved Rel, Oh' lovely Rel, give us thy fruit to bare the magic, let us commune with others of your world. Oh Rel, allow us to borrow your great and infinitesimal materia of magic. LET US COMMUNE THROUGH FIRE!” The rest is up to Samos as Wal'nagga is now too busy flowing the power of the Rel through the arcane spell which the book requires. She requires all the focus now to keep the flow of the Rel from collapsing on its chaotic self. Hopefully, this will aid Samos into broadcasting a message towards other magical users, perhaps those skilled in the arts of transmutation.[/quote]

Samos took a deep breath, the room around him going silent. With a bit of preparation, he intended to modify the signal of his psychic probing to carry a message. As a cautionary measure, he took a minute to individually probe all of the mages(and magical beings) in the area. They would all do; hopefully, at least one of them would be able to transmute up close and personal with this monster. He steeled himself, knowing that what he was about to do would tire him greatly. Tapping into Wal'Nagga's strange fiery signal, he sent a host of images outward. The images all showed various, non specific figures transmuting the armor of the monster into a different material, ideally an incapacitating one, as the others, warriors, attacked. With the images came a single repeated phrase.

"It is time. Destroy the armor, and strike the beast within."
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Re: The Pilgrimage: The Crusade Ablaze Act I

#29 Post by Myperson54 »

The clearing in which Gawain made his residence sat peacefully all morning, the double-chimneyed roof lazily puffing out tendrils of smoke from the previous night's fire. It was almost as if the Cazador attack had never happened, and time was standing still. This illusion was quickly broken as Gawain came skidding to a halt before his house, wings outstretched for stability. The scents of pine and cedar filled his nostrils, senses heightened with adrenaline, making him sneeze and shake his head.

The cottage was constructed of bluish-grey cobblestones and mortar, with wooden accents and a woven roof. Off to the left was the forge, open-air on two sides with an entrance to the house, and before the trio was a set of double-doors, not unlike those found on a barn. Lumbering over, Gawain threw open the doors and led the others inside.

A few dozen paces behind their surprisingly agile impromptu leader, Amelia had considered throwing up a small swell of dirt at his feet to remove the growing fear of being left behind on the tiny, overgrown dirt path. The thick undergrowth might stop their pursuers from a wide spread chase, but being lost so close to the frenzy behind them couldn't end pleasantly either. "Slow down!" She had shouted at his retreating backside. "You overgrackpt-" For a moment Amelia had stumbled and stuttered as if she were a puppet whose user had dropped her. When she recovered, any signs of chagrin had vanished from both voice and demeanor as she too reached the small clearing, following Gawain inside.

"A few shepherds will fail against the tide of wolves and vultures." Amelia frowned. She leaned against a counter just to the right inside his small home. "Do we intend to affirm such truths?"

Ta'vril easily kept up with her companions as they traveled to a lovely clearing occupied by a quaint cottage. A part of her rejoiced to be on the move again, said one week was far too long to remain in a single place. She hadn't really stretched her legs since arriving in Gustova, and their brisk pace set her heart thumping heartily in her chest. She knew that Sei'Lith was shielding her from the view of any enemies, even if it was only for its own self-preservation, and she felt grateful. When the fighting had erupted and their group went on the move, she had taken her staff from across her back and clutched it tightly in her trembling hands. She was not a fighter, and couldn't think what use she could do this group other than to serve as Sei'Lith's conduit. Somehow she doubted the entity bound to her soul would have any qualms about violence.

Shepherds would do well to avoid the wolves and vultures altogether," she piped up in a small voice, glancing from Amelia to Gawain and back.

"Agreed," Gawain rumbled, pausing to inhale deeply. "Prefer though I may to assist Gutesova, I am afraid fleeing may be our only option if we are to live another day." He prepared as he spoke: Reaching under the stout bed he'd carved from a pine the previous year, he grabbed a bag, into which he began to cram various objects - A few metal rounds for his blade, his black mask, an assortment of herbs and spices, a medical kit, and... "Where is it?" he grumbled to himself before finally rushing into the forge to retrieve a pearlescent whetstone and some assorted tools. Grabbing his sword off the mantlepiece where it had lain for well over a year, he turned to face the humans with burning eyes. "Ready."

We go back, save a few, and get a sword in the chest for the trouble. Amelia's fingers tightened on her quarterstaff, drawing creaks from the wood below as she ground it against the floor. "Such a pattern should not be ours." After a moment of silent, impotent frustration she drew herself up to speak, perhaps relenting in the face of the other two's reasoning.

"It is time. Destroy the armor, and strike the beast within."

What-stop that, you- like we're going back on your word! Her coarser half sorted through the message, refusing to attempt a response. Charity for strangers, even now, was not a virtue she held. The other half might think otherwise, but her first goal was to keep themselves alive.

Amelia spoke aloud without pause to Gawain and Ta'vril as the message was thrust into her thoughts, ignoring her own deep misgivings. "No blood between us, only shared chains, but my hand will be in ours."

Gawain paused at this unusual outburst, then shook his head. It was probably just another of the girl's convoluted self-dialogues. "I appreciate the support", he growled. "If we are to leave without being noticed, the woods around my clearing extend for a short distance further away from the village. We can only pray the back route is clear."

Taking one final look at his cottage, he sighed. Could he ever return? Even if by some chance he managed to survive, he would be returning to a dead village with their blood on his hands, at least in part. It used to be said among his people that one's fate was part of a cosmic plan. Perhaps it was his fate to wander the continent without a home.

He muttered a prayer and waved the mages over, walking around the cottage and into the brush. He was tired of apocalypse.
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