Ashes Of The End [Game]

One of the first symbols of peace and order the world had ever known was the Great Wall of Haelwyd. The legends said it had been forged from the light of the Sun by Lastiven Herself, that it had stood since the very first battles between the Flame and the Dark, and for generations it was hard to believe else. Though made from stone, the Wall shone a pleasant, warming gold upon all who beheld it, its Gate open wide to welcome in any and all who sought succor within. Kingdoms and great dynasties had been birthed and lived out their entire lives in the safety of the Wall's shadow.

Or so the old stories went, anyway. Now it seemed hard to believe - or like a load of garbage, depending on how charitable one felt. There was nothing great about the Wall anymore - now it was nothing more than a crumbling ruin, swept by the wind and the rain, with mortar washing free and hardy, woody vines starting to grow over the stone. Nothing more than ruins, and there were far too many of those strewn around for this one to be impressive. A wall was a wall, no matter how big, and every wall had a way over, around or through it.

One chose to climb up and over the wall, starting her ascent from a crumbled chunk of the ramparts that had fallen into what looked to be an old town market. Her careful, quick movements helped her pick her way up through the scars across the stonework, and kept her safe as she traversed the open ramparts, down into the forests below.

One chose a way opened before him, a crude wound blasted into the side of a great decaying beast. The tracks of the ones who went before him dwindled one by one; at some point he looked down and realized that he had been making his own path for hours, if not days. When he stepped into the shadow-dappled forest, he barely felt the sun's warmth on his cheek.

One chose a path of vengeance, slipping in through a crack, led by something more than sounds and signs. All he found when he emerged was that the path continued onward, further into the underbrush.

All chose to enter Haelwyd, Land of the Gods. What they found there has yet to be written.

The Temple Maiden had sat for hours at the top of the wall... looking out at the precious vistas, the glory and sad beauty of a ruined kingdom... where nature and decay mixed with the still standing remnants of the power of a bygone age. She took in a deep, deep breath of the fresh air... taking in the scents carried on by the winds... to see what the air of this distant land tasted like.

The way down was easier than the way up... gravity was working for her on this side after all. Vines and cracked pieces of the masonry made for easy footholds for the dexterous girl... so in this existence of hers as one bearing the mark, it felt like it took no time to set her feet upon the forest floor... to look in delight upon the abundant vegetation, the sounds of life here and there. From behind her veil an easy smile formed up... as she loosened up some strings upon her jewelry... letting it clang gently, like the sound of small bells as she began to make her way through it... as she moved with grace and a dance like lightness and bounce in her step...

As she went upon her sacred mission, to these lands... where her people said real warmth was first brought upon the world.

The heights of the Wall had been windswept and empty, expanses of stone that seemed to crumble as one watched into the ever-present dust whipped around by the temperamental gusts. And there had been that feeling, too, always prickling at the back of her neck even when she was making camp... one she dared not put into words. The breeze down below the level of the Wall was much gentler, and it brought with it the pleasant sound of rustling trees, quiet birdsong, and in the distance, even the sound of running water. Even the creeping feeling was gone, lifting from her shoulders like a weight she hadn't known she was carrying. All in all, things were much better inside the Wall already than they had been outside.

Still, the belated realization that the soft breeze felt like nothing against her skin and that the rich loam beneath her boots gave off no fragrance except a cloying smell of dust and ashes once again dampened Amira's mood. The hole in her chest was like a hungry beast, only it stole away touch and taste and memories instead of food. Still, the spaces between the trees didn't look too cluttered, and there was plenty of sunlight left before dark. Time enough to make it to the town she had spotted on her way down, even. A quiet sound of jingling followed her through the forest as she went.

Rogan, meanwhile, had not fared so well in his journey through the Wall. A pack of Branded had made the dark, snaking crevasse their home; once they had probably been bandits, using the cave as their base of operations, but there had been nothing human left in that dark underground. Their rusted blades had still cut well enough, though, and though no blood stained his clothes, the slices in cloth and flesh alike were unpleasant to look at. Still, what was done was done, and there was little way to go now but forward.

Headsman Willem thought to himself as he trudged out of the blackened tunnel and into the shaded forest. It seemed that he was not alone in seeking out this sacred, isolated land for an answer to the Brand that gnawed on the hearts of so many. He had foreseen this. Many sought out traces of the Fire from the churches and the temples. It only made sense that people would seek the Flame's own cradle. But what Willem had not foreseen, and worried him somewhat, was that they would come in such in such volume, and with such weaponry. To open a crack in the storied Wall of Haelwyd so easily...

Willem put the troubling thoughts out of his mind and focused on the path ahead of him. Er, the lack of a path. The shadowy grove before him seemed daunting now, but the headsman knew that this would eventually give way to some kind of civilization. Haelwyd had not been closed long enough to succumb to the wind and rain quite yet. With an entire land of settlements and the coming pilgrims, Willem knew that he would find people soon. With people came bandits, as so many years as a peacekeeper taught him. And with decades of isolation as well as the queer happenings occurring in this age of dying light, there was no telling what kind of monstrosities could emerge from behind the next corner. All of these newfound threats meant traveling together, which suited Willem just fine. It had been a while since someone had wanted to talk with him without wanting to kill him afterwards.

Willem hefted his gear, checked the withered wreath of flowers in his knapsack, and continued his march through the darkened glade.

THE CONVICT

Filth take that whole damnable crevice. Rogan thanked the gods for the fact his chainmail was still good-his shield arm ached and his weapon arm sore, but he was, aside from the cuts and scrapes that seemed to appear for every fight, lost and won, Rogan was unharmed, He paused, resting against the wall and attempting to wipe some of the bits of skull and flesh and skin off of the head of his flail before sitting on a rock for the luxury of sitting down after a hard week's travel.

Finally, he stood and made his way down the steep slope as he entered into the forest, still alert despite his wariness-he could and would fight on. His boots easily found purchase on the rough, root covered ground. He was no stranger to a lack of footing, and tread it as easily as a path.

As he looked through the forest, Rogan let his flail hang loosely in his hand. He did not believe himself lucky enough that there were no more vagrants in such a queer wood.

edited 14th Jun '17 4:00:23 PM by TroyandHawk

If there was one thing Hytal knew like the back of his hand, it was the forest. Having lived in it for so long, he could easily navigate any stretch of woods he came across.

At least, that was what he had believed. As it was now, the young scout was making his way through the underbrush and doing his best to identify any landmarks at all that he could find as he moved. With little avail, unfortunately. There was one thing that drew his attention, the sound of jingling trinkets, akin to that of bells. Scout Hytal froze as he listened intently, drawing his longbow as he crept through the brush towards the sound's origin, looking through the foliage to try and get a closer look.

The Temple Maiden walked through seemingly undaunted by the creeping feeling from before, ignoring as best she might the hollow inside her soul... instead, she smiled beneath her veil, her eyes darting like sapphires to take in every bit of color and motion she catches all around. She moves with grace and agility, quickly making her path through the woods, her jewelry clinking against each other, the sounds making clear notes in the air... and she looked about to see what she may find by it. However, no matter how attentive she may be, she had no chance to catch sight of the woodsman on the stalk as he followed her trail... thus she kept her pace unaware and undaunted, her clothes and hair swept by the gentle breeze.

A soft breeze blew through the dark forest as Willem's boots trod on the dried twigs and rotting leaves of the forest floor. Knowing that he had been trudging for hours, he decided to rest his aching bones. Taking off his rusted helm, his graying hair, unkempt after months of travel, plopped down the sides of his head and the front of his face. Brushing the greasy tangles aside, Willem decided that he needed a haircut. If only he had brought a razor. He hadn't quite lost his sense of touch, thank the gods, so Willem enjoyed the cool wind as he took off his well-worn boots and rubbed some of the numbness out of his ankles. If only every day in this wretched age was like this...

Willem's reverie was shattered as an alien sound entered his awareness. The soft tinkling of bells wafted through the bank of trees to his left, a little bit off the path he was forging through the woods. Remembering the armed intruders, Willem wasted no time pulling on his boots, donning his battered helmet and unsheathing the tool of his profession, an errant ray of light gleaming against the polished iron. If the bells were something that wished him harm, he would show the virtues of experience. Steeling himself, Willem cautiously advanced towards the bells.

The Temple Maiden kept her pace, not doing much to hide her form... indeed, she was inviting what may lie in this ancient land to come and take a peek at her. Her loosened jewelry, chiming and clinging made sure that she would be heard among the eerie stillness of these woods. However... as she heard rustling among the bushes, the breaking of a twig some distance away she smiled beneath her veil...

And began to sing yet as she kept her pace... a song in a language the natives likely did not know. A prayer to be chanted, which she accompanied by letting her pace, the movement of her arms let her jewelry sound out in tune with her voice. She seemed to have an audience... so she better make a good show of it. Would they be allies... or would she have her Gods smile on her as she shed blood for the first time in the land of titans?

Willem strode through the underbrush, his hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword as the polished steel rested on his mailed shoulder. The headsman was tense. The last time he had faced a skilled combatant was during the war from before he took over from the old headsman. And the last time he faced a combatant at all was... a time he didn't want to recall at the moment. What mattered was the bells and the one wearing them.

Suddenly, a song sung in a foreign tongue drifted through the trees as the bells continued to grow louder. The voice was high-pitched and feminine, complementing the smooth melody of her chant. This sudden gentleness after the general bleakness of his journey startled him somewhat, but Willem remained alert. He had seen many charming killers during his time, and they had been no less deadly than the scarfaced ones who sent you to the next world without taking the time to talk your knickers off.

The edge of the cluster of trees was imminent, and Willem could already see the outline of a slim figure that fit the voice he heard through the trees. Even more important, he could see little bells hanging off the vestiges of the silhouette's clothing. Now, it seemed, was the time to test this stranger's character. Willem stepped beyond the cover of the leaves and branches, sword resting on his shoulder.

"Well. Hello."

edited 22nd Jun '17 10:37:47 PM by Greeneyre

Hytal would hear the inelegant crunch of boots and the crack of bushes being stormed through by a man more used to enduring his surroundings then making any attempt at stealth.

Rogan stopped as he finally heard a voice; "Well, Hello." It was clear that this was a meeting between two strangers..Still, take no chances. "By the order of King Valtr of Krelmer, set your weapons down! I have a crossbow!" He didn't. He had bolts'' but no crossbow to shoot them. Still, he supposed that he could bluff.

The Maiden looks back as the one drawn by the sound of her melody finally revealed himself... her eyes quietly appraising him from toe to the tip of his blade upon his shoulder before the slender feminine figure make a little bow "Ashanti, Stranger... Are you a guardian of these Sacred Ruins?" asks the veiled lady... right before there came a threat from the bushes, a cry demanding surrender.

The Maiden doesn't put down her weapons... instead in a burst of motion she sets her eyes in the general direction of the voice before she moves to take cover behind the nearest tree... her hands moving upon her singing jewelry, pulling the strings holding it taut once again to quiet them now that they had done their purpose.

The executioner made a quick step backward as the warrior woman sprinted away, taking cover behind a gnarled oak. He took no chances. Heavy crossbow bolts punched through full plate during the war, he knew that his rusted chainmail and moth-eaten surcoat wouldn't stand a chance against them. The stranger said he was backed by the the king of Krelmer. Maybe Willem's old position might hold sway with this unseen assailant. Willem shouted in the general direction of the voice.

"Ho, stranger! I intend no insult to the crown of Krelmer! I myself was a servant of the realm of Codwick. Simply allow me to lay down my weapon as a show of faith, and I am sure we can come to some sort of an agreement!"

This...this was a fine start.

Hytal cast an eye over the gathered group and reached for his bow. He didn't think he had been seen from his position in the brush, but he moved as silent as could be even so, it wouldn't do to be shot by a potential -if paranoid- ally, undeath or no.

Hytal had a good view from where he sat, he could see all three of them from his position, albeit he had no clear shots to make, save on the man who served a King. "How 'bout you lot all put yer weapons down?" He called out from the brush line, hoping his position was concealed enough to hide the arrow he was nocking.

edited 26th Jun '17 11:30:50 PM by RomanianInquisitor

"Our army sets out to Codwick within the year." Krelmer said, before frowning when the third voice joined in. He had hoped to be hidden but now? Might as well go diplomatic.

He stepped out of the bushes into view, revealing himself as he still swung his flail. His wolfish eyes scanned the surrounding trees before he spoke at last. "Where the hells are we and what is this infernal forest?" He demanded again.

Willem unsheathed his shortsword and hid it behind him as he stepped out from behind the tree. He didn't want to attack another traveler, but he would fight if given good reason. He threw his head chopper to the ground, as promised.

"Your army is heading to Codwick? I hope they have good intentions," Willem intoned through his helm. "Though I have to admit that I haven't been keeping up with current events as of late."

Willem turned his head towards the general direction of the third stranger. " And my weapon's down. No need to get hasty."