Masaru

Well...the Oni had gone and gotten themselves spotted trying to light a fire in the wet air and windy atmosphere. A task that was doomed from the start, being perfectly honest, but he let Sword go on. After all, now they still did have a distraction, even if the rest of the beastmen would undoubtedly be alerted soon. Caitlin ran off to join Sword in the fight, leaving the general with the djinn, who could sink into the mist.

A general was never a good general unless he could think on his feet though, and that's what Masaru did. He poked Nasira on the shoulder, whispering quietly next to her ear.

"Come, let us sneak into the tower. With just the two of us, we should be able to sneak by and obtain a superior defensive position to help our comrades."

With that Masaru loosened the scabbard of his tachi, opting to instead hold it in his hand as opposed to attached to his waist, one hand always resting on the hilt with steely calm as he crouched and started sneaking up towards the tower in the trained pace of an expert ambusher. Luckily he wouldn't have to worry about any errant breaths or coughs giving him away at least, though he did make sure to keep his eyes half-focused on the ground in front of him.

Poppy Blake—Ôhnlyn, Dreams Indulged

Of course it would be her that had to go into the totally-not-creepy at all witch hut. Of course. This was not a surprise in the least.

Poppy took a quick look at the inviting open door of the hut, gulped, looked away, gulped again, and then looked back, this time steeling herself for the fact that she would have to head inside. "Okay...good luck, Mr. Valentin," she called after the retreating assassin's back, wishing that he has also wished her luck, but also wanting to wish him luck and win him over.

She set her eyes on the open doorway right in front of her, lifted a moss-covered foot, and then shuffled inside, careful not to make any noise that might disturb anyone that was living there. Of course, the moss helped a great deal by muffling her footsteps. Almost as quietly as Valentin had stalked away, Poppy flitted into the hut, and towards what lay inside it.

Edited by JumpingFruit on Dec 4th 2020 at 4:05:35 AM

"Ah well." Sword wasn't going to let this shake her, and honestly it was fine, seeing as they'd be distracted anyway. This wasn't even the first time she'd caught a target with their pants down, though here she was without some nice porcelain to shatter his head into! She saw Cait getting into position for a flank, so she knew the distraction had to be more effective than just an alarm! She grinned and reached out, trying to grab this beastman that was right in her face and get it into a submission hold. No living thing liked their joints dislocated, and the noise that kicked up when they did was excellent for getting attention.

Nasira nodded to both Caitlin and Masaru; despite the hiccup, the plan was still viable as long as the beastmen were drawn away and distracted. Following Masaru's lead, Nasira approached the tower, moving off to the side so that she'd be at the flank of the enemy approach. After all, even with her ability to hide in the fog it wouldn't do for them to run into one another when she regained solid form. Swiftly and quietly, she moved from one jut of rock to another, becoming one with the fog as they got closer.

It's not safe to assume the tower and its surroundings will be unoccupied just because this group ran off... Nasira kept a wary eye of her surroundings in case there were any other enemies they may have overlooked.

Dyersthel

That was a mistake.
He could tell clearly, as soon as he stepped in the room; the faces of the beasts were not of the welcoming kind, as their attention diverted from what appeared to be some sort of playacting between two of them, and their eyes focused on him. By now, the traveler had managed to gather some understanding of how those creatures were organized. A "pack"- he could say, indeed, that was the proper term- of them gathered around a stronger creature, that acted as their leader. Here, even to the point of having raised themself on a throne. That figure surely held 'authority' over the others, as well as enough of a mind to fashion all this. Perhaps...

But now, he had to focus first on not being skewered. Their ritual interrupted, if a ritual it was, the ferocious beasts were armed by real spears. A far cry from the sticks they had been waving around until then, whose tips would surely stab into his rather vulnerable sides. Vulnerable, at least, to spears piercing them.
However, he knew, and they probably did, too. The real power of a spear lies not in thrusting. That motion is a 'line' moving in a direction; dodging it is not as hard as it may seem. With a dash backwards, Dyersthel attempted to evade the assault. And in the same motion, he brought out his own scythe, so swiftly he might as well have used magic. That might have been on account of him applying his telepathy, which in this instance really had the same function. Still. Something was not as the beasts might have expected.

The stance the traveler, clad in black, had taken, was not one ready to strike at a weak spot.
Rather, it was defensive. The message, clear- he would not strike first, but he was ready to defend himself, and if so, he would retaliate as fiercely as he saw fit.

But for now, he spoke.

"Stop."

That word was pronounced strongly, boldly, fiercely. If they had the mind to understand it, surely, the tone would at least let it merit consideration. Of that, and what came next.

"I wish not to fight you."

Another pause. He wondered for a moment, could they even understand him? What sort of language did they speak? But then, he realized. There was no reason to believe anyone else that had come to that realm with him should have understood him either. Yet they had, and he had paid it no heed. So by the same token, perhaps, they too could understand?

"I see I was rude to interrupt your ceremony. I apologize for it. But I come in peace, this I promise. And, as I see this is one of four keeps..."

And, besides, there was more than just that to go off. The two warriors had waited for a signal. Only they had attacked. No one else. If they wished, he would have been overwhelmed instantly, by their relentless attacks. But it had not been so.

"I have a proposition. I will grant help in conquering them, if needed; or in conquering any other objective that you may desire. I wish to prevent unnecessary bloodshed and death, but I still regard myself as a capable warrior."

So, this kind of proposition might have had a chance of being considered, indeed. If not, well... Things would have been much more difficult. But if he could, why not try? After all, this time, it was undeniable that he was the invader into their lairs.

Edited by DarknessAwaits on Dec 7th 2020 at 12:28:33 PM

Wlíphe, Lonely Remnant of Forgotten Hope

Sword quickly got the surprised beastman into a joint-hold. Thankfully, the creature had discarded its weapons, when it had come to relief itself, so she wasn't skewered in response. Nevertheless, its flailing claws left some nasty scratches on her arms, as she grappled it.

After a few seconds of brief struggling, she did manage to get its arm and with nasty pull, pulled it out of its socket, trying to inflict as much pain as possible. Which she did, and the how of agony alerted the rest of the group, who grabbed their weapons and rushed towards the oni.

Which was exactly, when the first five of them got hit by a violent gust of wind and tumbled over like empty bottles. Caitlin jumped into the fray and her scimitar cut through one the remaining beastmens throat, letting it collapse gurgling and choking on its own blood.

A whirling, chaotic melee began, as the Brute, who had let the ordinary warriors move first, rushed in and tried to impale Sword with his long spear, by piercing through the beastmen she had grappled.

...

Meanwhile, both Masaru and Nasira approached the tower. The distraction, such as it was, had certainly been effective, as no one paid them any heed. Already, they had reached the door of the tower, which was closed off.

The wood was old and looked frail, but it seemed to still be resolutely closed. Deep gashes spoke of violent attempts to break through, with even the rock next to it broken and damaged. And yet, the beastmen seemed to never been able to actually open this seemingly innocuous door.

Ôhnlyn, Dreams Indulged

As Poppy entered the hut, the lichen and moss on her body burned away, just as she stepped inside. The door closed behind her, as if a strong gale had slammed it shut, yet there was no wind.

Inside, it was...cozy and warm. Near the firepit was a simple bed, loaded with warm pelts. In the pit were still smoldering embers and a pot was bubbling over it, smelling delightfully. In the back was a work-station, an unfinished wooden horse on it, likely meant for a child, with wood-chips covering the floor around it.

"Ah, you're back!", said a voice behind Poppy. A man sat on a rocking chair in the corner, smoking a pipe. He was old, with a long, gey beard and warm, brown eyes. A leather-cap sat on his head and he wore a simple tunic and leather-pants, along with a sheeps-vest.

"Long day, my child?", he asked, his voice deep and warm. "Come on, sit down. Tell me how your day was."

Thynwê, Promises Broken

The two beastmen snarled in bloodlust and anger, as they fruitlessly tried to hit and wound this stranger. But his skill was beyond them, easily evading their strikes and blows and using his scythe to keep the distance. Even when the two attacked together, they were soundly beaten off and it was clear that if Dyersthel wished, he could kill them easily.

And yet, he did not do so. Instead, when his two opponents lunged one last desperate attack, he parried their blows and knocked ther spears out of their hands with one single swipe. Then, he adressed their chieftain.

The woman glared at Dyersthel, her slit pupils examining him like he was a curiousity, rather than a person. Her pack was howling and gnashing their teeth, clearly upset about their champions being so soundly beaten. One particulary enraged beastmen rushed forward, his hand on his axe.

He did not come far, as the blunt end of an axe smashed into the back of his head and knocked him unconcsious. The chieftain stood behind him, having moved so fast, that only Dyersthel had been able to roughly follow her movement. She had her axe in one hand and the shield in the other. Up close, it was evident how tall she was, looking down on the scythe-wielding warrior before her.

She chuckled, before hissing. "Show me....strength! Show me...worth!" Her accent was thick, animalistic. Then she banged against her shield and took her stance. The pack went silent immediately.

Before Dyersthel could say anything, she suddenly appeared behind him, her axe aiming towards his neck!

Edited by TheNohen on Dec 8th 2020 at 5:42:09 PM

Poppy Blake—Ôhnlyn, Dreams Indulged

"Ah!" was Poppy's surprised exclamation when the man in the rocking chair spoke to her. "I...I am?" She was launched into abject confusion when the man spoke to her as if he recognized her. As far as she knew, she hadn't ever ventured into this place before. This was her first time in this fragment of a failed Realm. Poppy's blood ran cold and stayed that way. Maybe this man was some sort of sorcerer or wizard. That would certainly explain the amount of magic in the air, buzzing around her ears.

However, it was impossible to stay standoffish when the environment was so welcoming and warm. And it was rude to refuse the hospitality from a witch, wizard, or what-have-you. Poppy had to respect the man's host-rights. If he violated her guest-rights, then she could retaliate, but until then, she had to be a good guest, and not insult her host's hospitality.

"Um. Sorry. You startled me...that's all," she began awkwardly, sitting down on a small stool and stretching her legs towards the fire. Her magic settled and calmed within her as it gorged itself on the ambient magical aura within the hut. My, what a marvelous warmth. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is this place? Who are you? I can feel so much magic in the air..."

Poppy's stomach protested its emptiness, but she ignored it. The first rule of encountering strange old people out in the woods was to never enter their dwellings. Since she had broken this first rule, the second rule was never to eat anything that they offered you. If you did...whatever happened next was all on your head.

Edited by JumpingFruit on Dec 12th 2020 at 4:24:28 AM

Captain Holloway

Good, so that'd worked about as well as she could hope. Holding off on further applications of magic for now, Caitlin aimed to slaughter through as much of the smaller creatures as she could manage to–they'd be pests at best and their death sentences at worst if they tried to take down the brute with them still around. Utilizing her own athleticism and her flexibility to her advantage, she tried to herd them into compact groups, as they were familiar to her—the panicked scrabbling of on-deck ship combat was much more her style than her having to split her attention over a wide plane.

Sword was being targeted, but Caitlin trusted the oni to be able to handle herself; if she focused on distracting the little guys, then Sword could focus more clearly on her singular tough opponent. Of course, she didn't leave her to the dogs entirely—she was more than ready to send another staggering windblast the brute's way if Sword ended up in a tricky situation.

Upon seeing the closed door, Nasira was already halfway into her gaseous form, ready to seep through the cracks and gaps of the door to get through, before she stopped, noticing the gashes clawed out from the door, a sign of the beastmen's apparent failed attempt at violent entry, and eyed the shattered rocks curiously. Solidifying, she tapped her chin in thought.

Protective magic to keep out invaders or trespassers? Then I doubt I would get far trying to enter that way. What to do then...

With few options presented to her, Nasira tried the most obvious route available to her - she tried turning the handle. While there were signs of violence to the door, there didn't seem to be any signs of violence in return, so it seemed to be the simplest, and safe, option.

Dyersthel

The two champions were beaten, perhaps rather unceremoniously. The traveler had little issue with that, yet his hand moved not to kill. That was also strength, or so he had once heard. Not just brutal destruction, but the ability to show mercy and restraint. Letting your enemy know that you could kill them, if you wished- but not even deeming them worthy of that.

And then spoke the stranger, he who had dared interrupt the ceremony. And his word was heeded, and his worth recognized, at least in some way. For now, the queen of lions roared and stood, willing to prove why she had been able to lead them for so long. An axe in one hand, the other gripping a shield. This would be the most dangerous foe he faced yet.
She took a stance, and the traveler, as her opponent, took his. And he concentrated.

And in the next instant...
Her figure vanished, like a hazy mirage that had truly never been there at all, visible only to those blinded by illusions. In a normal fight, this kind of attack would surely have spelt doom for its target.
However.
This was no normal fight, nor was the traveler a normal opponent.

He had concentrated. He had readied himself to perceive where the next strike would come from. After all, in the first place, those of his kind never relied on their eyes. They had long since grown weak. No, it was their 'other eyes' that made for the most trusted of their companions. And to them, there was not a difference between an opponent that struck from the front or from the back. It was still an attack to them, and so...

The traveler's body moved, too, as the axe was crashing down towards him. He dashed to the side, and turned around to face her in the same motion. Technically, he needed not do so. In a way, that could be seen as an unnecessary move. But, it had a clear aim- tricking the other warrior into thinking he depended on his eyes to see.
But, this time, merely defending would not be enough. He understood this well. And so.
Still in the same motion, with almost unnatural fluidity, his scythe had taken aim at her legs...!

Edited by DarknessAwaits on Dec 13th 2020 at 11:41:30 AM

Wlíphe, Lonely Remnant of Forgotten Hope

To Nasira's surprise, the door opened without any resistance. Swinging open, as if freshly oiled and revealing a narrow staircase, that wound itself up the tower, occasinally interrupted by speartips, that had broken through the stone-walls.

Torches lit up before them, one by one, and illuminated the dusty, lonely staircase. A waft of dead air hit them in the face. Inside, the djinn had a weird sense of...safety. As if she had just stepped into her own room, away from the pain and sadness that had been her life, for a long time. It didn't last long, though.

Ôhnlyn, Dreams Indulged

The old man nodded, as Poppy talked to him. "Ah, good good...another good hunt, I see.", he said, not answering the girl questions. He stood up from his chair and walked over to the pot. He had a noticable limp.

"I cooked some stew for you, my child. Just how you always like it. Fae-Rabbit, Herbs and Earthapples.", he said and poured some of the steamy, tasty stew into a bowl, handing it to Poppy.

"You must be tired, my dear. Hunting these beasts is surely exhausting. Come on, tell this old man all about it." He patted his leg, as if offering her to sit on it, like a father would do to his daughter.

...

Meanwhile, Valentin stood watch outside. Nothing much happened and Poppy had not called for help yet. Still, something began to feel off. Their was a noticable hum of magic in the air, strong enough even for him to sense it.

Then he heard a noise. Breaking wood and a pained yelp. The smell of blood, faint in the air. It came from beyond the clearing.

Thynwê, Promises Broken

Dyersthel side-stepped the blow, the axe missing him by inches. Without missing a beat, his scythe swung around, using the momentum, and and carved a path through the air towards his opponent.

The chieftain was faster, though. As the scythe cut into her, her shape vanished, leaving the blade to only cleave into an afterimage. A moment later, she appeared a few feet back. A cut ran down her cheek, with a trickle of blood following.

She grinned. "Not faster...but fast enough...", she commented Dyersthel's reaction time. This time, she didn't rush him, but instead paced carefully, watching him. Her shield held at the ready.

She waited for him to strike.

Val

...well, this was boring.

He'd been waiting a while now, and nothing had happened. No Huntress, no monsters, not even any birds or insects to keep him company. The forest seemed...deserted. Abandoned. Other than the growing hum of magic in the air and...the fact that he could notice that was probably a bad sign.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack of breaking wood, followed by a cry of pain. Val's eyes snapped open, and he looked over to where it was coming from. Outside the clearing. Was this a trick? It was probably a trick.

Still...probably worth checking out. Besides, he could always smash in their skull if he needed to! Slipping from the bush, Val crept towards where the sound had come from, gripping his staff tightly. When he got close enough, he peered around a tree to see what had made the noise.

Poppy Blake—Ôhnlyn, Dreams Indulged

"Ah..." Poppy said, looking dumbly down at the bowl of stew in her hands. It smelled so good, and her stomach rumbled in protest at the temptation. Remembering her hard life back in the village, Poppy couldn't take it anymore, and so she hungrily tucked into the stew. It was rich and creamy—everything a stew should have been. "This is good. Thank you!"

Sighing, she walked over to sit on the man's lap as he had gestured for her to do, still supping slowly on the warm stew. In almost no time, she was finished, and rather sleepy at that. Maybe it was best to lie down, get some rest, on those warm, soft furs over there soon...

The constant throb of magic at the back of her mind was like a beating heart. Poppy hadn't realized that she had been leeching on it all this time, thinning out the concentration. Therefore, there was a slight wavering in the stream of magic that she could feel, and her momentary confusion about it shocked her back into full lucidity.

This place...whatever it was, it probably had to be the home of the Huntress. There was no other explanation. Why else would the Fatherly Caretaker of this place make so many references to hunting? Why else would there be a child-sized bow near the hut? She made this place for her own pleasure, to be taken care of. The Caretaker was probably not a real person at all. Poppy had to get out of this place, even if she had eaten the food that had been offered.

"Pardon...me..." Poppy mumbled, fighting the desire to sleep that had been settling onto her. "I think I forgot some of my hunting equipment outside...I need to nip out real quick to retrieve it...if you don't mind...Father..."

With that, she tried to drag her leaden body off of the Caretaker's lap and to the doorstep, the heat of the fire seeming molten at her back. Even the stew seemed to churn about uncomfortably inside of her as she stepped back towards the door.

I will not be held back by this.

The thought sliced through Poppy's mind like her newly-found companions' weapons.

Blinking as she tried to exit the hut, she fought the cursed place's hold on her as much as she could, and tried to sap more magic from the place to weaken whatever spell that was woven around it as much as she could—Poppy had never tested how much magic she could leech at a time before—and as fast as she could. She could feel magic pooling into her reserves like water flowing out of a reservoir as soon as a dam gave way...

Edited by JumpingFruit on Dec 20th 2020 at 2:58:12 AM

Nasira stood there, blinking. Well, that was far easier than expected. Given that all signs pointed to the beastmen being unable to enter the tower, it was highly unlikely that an ambush would be waiting for them. Still, she was uneasy - it was precisely because she felt protected here that Nasira was wary, as that was not a feeling that came naturally to her. There was undoubtedly something supernatural at work here and even if this place was meant as a sanctuary, she'd be remiss if she ventured onward without caution.

Once Masaru had followed after, Nasira closed the door behind them - one more barrier between them and the beastmen outside. After that, there was only one direction to go - up.

Masaru - Within the Tower

Well...that had been surprisingly simple. A less-experienced mind would have thought that it was because the mindless beastmen couldn't operate the door hand, but Masaru knew better. This tower wasn't done with them yet, he just knew it. The soft sliding of metal sliding against its casing echoed through the bottom floor of the tower as Masaru drew his blade, holding it steady in both hands.

"Well, I suppose we should keep moving. Carefully."

The flames from the blade dimly illuminated his face as he made his way up the steps of the tower, hugging his side against the outer wall to maintain the best vantage of the winding path ahead. A sense of safety or not, there was nothing to be gained by trusting gut feelings in a time like this.

Dyersthel

His scythe had not quite met its mark.
This really was a fearsome opponent, the traveler realized. Her speed was enough to match- and even, in a way, surpass- his. He could only strike at afterimages, it seemed. Even then, with some clever maneuvering, he had been able to wound the queen of wolves; and managed to have her stay on the defensive.

As of right now, she was pacing around and waiting for him to strike. Ordinarily, the traveler would definitely see this as a trap and also wait for an opening, or try to provoke her. But, there was a secret trump card he possessed, that she should not have known about.
Still.
Was now the right time to use it? How would she react? For all he knew, she might see it as some form of dark, forbidden magic, and really get aggressive. He wanted to avoid that, if at all possible. There was no reason to kill all these people, and even then, he would likely succumb first.

But, as she eyed him and waited, the traveler realized waiting around would not lead to anything. So, he moved. He knew his weapon very well. He could understand it, feel it, guide it. He knew. He had used it for so long, it was basically part of him, by now. The Er'yyos are trained such, after all, if they wish to be guardsmen. There is a saying in Gisheidel- "as unlikely as an Er'yyos being disarmed"- because even at a distance, they are so attuned with their weapons to be able to recover it easily.

And that last part was exactly what the traveler would bet on.

The scythe flew. He went for a wide horizontal swipe, trying to make it so that dodging sideways would be difficult. He hoped she would try to step backwards. If she did, then, he would attack again. Trying to corner her, to have her step back where the spears he had knocked away earlier were.

He had a plan.

Cait had bought Sword some time to figure out how to solve the Spear. If it was going to try and go through the beastman to her though, she was going to turn it into a contest. Either it was stronger, or she was. She liked her odds. "Keep the small fry clear of me Cait, I think I need some one-on-one time with big boy here."

Sword allowed the spear to enter the beastman she was grappling, but after the head and a few inches past had made entry she raised the monster up and backwards over her head. Either the spear would break off inside it, or, because she believed something this cool could happen just as she believed she could become a new Goddess, the idiot creature would stay holding onto the spear, sending it into the air, or dangling onto the weapon.

Wlíphe, Lonely Remnant of Forgotten Hope

Caitlin weaved and dodged through the group of beastmen, expertly avoiding strikes and blows. Her scimitar cutting into fur and flesh, not with the aim to kill, but to harrass. And although she had to contend with about a dozen enemies at once, the pirate managed to keep them seperated from the Brute and Sword.

Which was just as well, as both were locked in a contest of strength. The spear lodged deep into the corpse, which the Oni used as an impromptu shield, and advanced inch by inch. The brute snorted angrily, its bearhead opening its maw to roar at the red-skinned fighter.

Finally, it spear broke through the spine of the dead beastman and shot forward to impale Sword. But the Oni flung the corpse over her head, forcing the spear lodged in it, to go with it. The brute was surprised and stumbled forward, leaving itself open to the Oni's fists.

Within the Tower

Meanwhile, both Nasira and Masaru were climbing up the stairs of the tower. Outside, they could hear the fight raging on, with no sign of a clear victor. The djinn felt a welcoming breeze hit her face, like the hot air of an oven or the breath of a loved one. The general didn't share those experiences, as the walls seemed to press on him and he got a clear feeling that he wasn't welcome. That, as a creature of war and battle, he was only tolerated because of his association with Nasira.

After a few minutes, they reached the top of the tower. It was a living space, with beds, tables and chairs. Their were windows to the outside, with the remnants of what seemed to be birdnests resting on the windowsill. There were also corpses.

Desiccated remnants of a man, a woman and two children. Most notably, they looked similar to the beastmen outside, but more...complete, natural. No twisted limbs or animal-parts hapharzadly stitched on. They had canine fangs, clawlike fingers and cat-ears, but other than didn't look too different from humans. They had likely died of starvation, the mother holding the children tight, while lying in bed. The father having collapsed on the table.

He held in his hand a scroll. It looked ancient, but still intact. The runed and words on it alien to Masaru, but Nasira strangely could read them nonetheless, even though she didn't know the language.

We made a mistake. We thought ourselves safe in this haven. All, who survived gathered here in the shadow of the tower and we began to rebuild ourselves. We were fools...

Brân said he had found a cottage in the forest. Said he knew it belonged to her. I warned him to leave it be. To let her have her fun and continue to live underneath her notice. She doesn't come here, to this refuge of peace and quiet.

He didn't listen. He desired vengeance. Petty revenge on her, for the promises broken. The oath defiled. He burned down the cottage, toppled the stones, killed the caretaker.

She is coming for us now. I barred the door, even as the other plead for me to let them in. She will hunt them down and kill them. She will come for me, too. I can only pray the tower will hold. I can only pray, that we will not die by her hands. It is the only dignity, we still have...

They they heard a faint noise. It sounded like the wind, before it got progressively louder. They heard....a scream.

Thynwê, Promises Broken

Dyersthel went on the offensive. His scythe described an arc and slashed at the chieftain. Contrary to what he had hoped, she did not dodge his strike, but instead raised her round-shield and met him head-on.

Blade crashed against wood. His first blow bit a bit into the shield, but he did not make the mistake of getting lodged in. He pulled out and swung again. Once more, his strike was blocked. His assault intensified and finally she began to step backwards. His relentless offensive forcing her to give ground.

Before she reached the spears, the chieftain lowered her head and ducked under his next blow. She shot forward, her axe aiming for his legs. But, before she could connect or Dyersthel counter, they were interrupted.

She froze in her movement, her head snapping to the side. Her eyes focused on the horizon and her ears twitching. Her warriors reacted similar. Some listened intently, then they all began to whine and whimper. Fear began to spread. Then dread.

Then Dyersthel heard it, too. An echo in the wind, that got louder and louder with each passing heartbeat. It was a scream. A bloodcurdling roar of incadescant rage.

Ôhnlyn, Dreams Indulged

Valentin saw a beastman crawling, dragging his broken legs behind him and leaving a trail of blood. The poor soul looked to be in agony, yet it dragged itself forward anyway, its distorted features warped by fear. It yelped and whined, clearly fleeing from something.

It didn't take long for that something to step into the assassing view. It was huge. A towering figure, easily three time the size of a grown man. Its legs were those of a deer, looking almost elegant and gentle. Its body was covered by a large cloak made out of leaves, twine and branches, covering an almost dainty human-like torso. On its back was a pack of giant spears that woukd have sufficed as polearms for any warrior, but seemed more like javelin in comparison to this being. Its hands reached out from under the large cloak, with long, spindly fingers holding on to a rope and a large sickle, respectively. Its face was veiled in shadow under the cloak, but Val could spot two ice-blue eyes and stag-horns, that grew out from under the cloak.

This...creature stalked the crippled beastman, almost completely silent. It slowly approached its prey, seemingly not on a hurry to catch it. When the beastman collapsed from exhaustion, it stepped towards him, its movement fluid and deadly. It poked him once, turning him over to see if he was still moving. Its head tilting quizzically. Then, it raised its sickle and lopped the beastmans head off in one smooth motion. It looked almost dissapointed.

After that, it took the noose, put it around the corpses feet and pulled him up on a branch. Val watched, as it expertedly gutted, skinned and fileted the body in a span of a few seconds. Blood staining the muddy ground below it. As it was digging out the heart, the being suddenly stopped.

Its head snapped around to Vals location. Stopping its work, it stood up and began to approach his hiding spot. Long fingers touched the tree he was standing behind and it leaned to the side. But before it could spot him, something interrupted it.

The forest was groaning and shuddering. The mist was coiling, bubbling in disturbance. When Val looked back to the clearing he could see the cottage beginning to shudder. The menhirs runes glowed brightly in alarm, before dying off one by one. The grass rotted away rapidly, spreading out from the cottage in circular motions. Then....the house disappeared. Its illusion frying like mist under the sun. And within it, her hand still on the non-existent door, stood Poppy.

The being stared at the now dead clearing. For a brief second, deadly silence stretched over the forest, as if the world held its collective breath.

Then the Huntress reared up and let out an ear-ripping scream of sacrigileuos fury and despair.

Edited by TheNohen on Dec 28th 2020 at 7:21:04 PM

Val

...uh oh.

That was the Huntress. He was certain of it. No one else could look so human and yet so otherworldly. Except maybe the other Pretenders, but the other Pretenders didn't matter right now.

And now she was heading towards him.

...well. Goodbye, cruel Realms! Val pressed himself against the tree, heart racing as the Huntress approached. Wonder where I'll go where I die. Given all the people he'd killed, most likely the worst part of Hawaiki. Well, assuming the afterlife was still functioning properly, given the whole "death of the gods" thing. So maybe it'd be like what Hawaiki was like before Atyx took over? Disorganized, confused chaos where the souls had nowhere to go? Didn't sound too bad, actually. At least in comparison to the alternatives—

And then the cottage poofed out of existence, Poppy's hand still on the non-existent doorknob.

A suffocating silence filled the clearing. Sensing incoming doom, Val swiftly and silently climbed the tree, perching himself on one of the branches. Concealed within the shadows, he looked back down at the clearing and watched as the Huntress let out a primal screech.

Ah, so Poppy's going to die. Noted. He waited to see what happened next. If a fight started, and things were going well, he'd join in. If Poppy fled the clearing, he'd sneak off with her. If she fought...and started losing...

...well, in these types of scenarios, it was always best to cut your losses and run.

Captain Holloway

“Didn't think of you as being interested in brutish beasts of the damned,” Caitlin commented in regards to Sword's request; ducking a swipe from one of the beastmen and slicing through its abdomen in retaliation. “You're doing alright! Let's keep this up!”

The primal screech momentarily made her falter, and she received a laceration to her abdomen as a result—biting back a yelp as she bit her lip to the point of bleeding before she frustratedly skewered the culprit out of irritation.

Damn it. Stupid bugger.

Despite the burning pain of the wound, she had to get her head back in the game; but that scream had deeply rattled her. Out of instinct she began to near Sword for a sense of security, but in an effort to keep being helpful she aimed to stagger the giant the oni was fighting by windblasting a few of his smaller minions towards him at a high velocity.

“Reckon that's our culprit? Hope they're alright...” she remarked to Sword in-between fending off the rest of the creatures, though she muttered that last part beneath her breath with a detectable worry in her tone. “Bloody bastards better not be getting their arses handed to 'em.”

Poppy Blake—Ôhnlyn, Dreams Indulged

There was a great SNAP and a muffled screech in the air (for those attuned to it) as Poppy stepped out almost triumphantly into the cool air of the misty forest, the spell that was cast on her broken due to her prodigious mana leeching. Almost immediately, she was shocked out of her relief by the sight of the Huntress, with Valentin nowhere to be seen. And the scent of blood nearby could only mean...

Valentin was...

He was...

Dead.

And this thing had done it. It was going to come for Poppy next. It was going to kill her, and gut her, and skin her, and otherwise disrespect her dead corpse—

Well, Poppy was not willing to stand for that. Running was not an option here. The Huntress' long, thin deer legs and height meant that it would easily catch up to her if she ran. She had to stay here, and either fight until the others could arrive to help her, or fight until her eventual death. That much was certain.

Fortunately, Poppy had spent a lot of time observing the wildlife back at home, so she knew that the hooves of deer were prone to infection during the rainy seasons. It was called "hoof-rot" by hunters, and it made for lean pickings during those times because the meat would, more often than not, also be diseased, and could not be eaten. She was more often than not blamed for those occurrences. Filth entered through cuts and abrasions on the hooves as they softened due to the sustained wet weather, and conveniently, this place seemed to have just the right amount of moisture for this to happen...

Poppy could feel the mana coursing through her, and chose not to hold it back for use in a more dire situation. Instead, as her gloves has already been stripped off in the cottage, she merely had to peel back her eye-patch and point a crooked finger at the Huntress' feet. "The blood of the fallen curses you. The blood of the fallen will avenge itself. This is for Valentin, you sick animal!" she chanted as she seeded and encouraged infection to bloom in her opponent's hooves...and to grow to a truly crippling degree.

For indeed, blood was splattered on the hooves due to her previous killing and gutting of the poor beastman who crossed her, but Poppy had mistaken this for Valentin's blood instead. Even though the Huntress was a Pretender and was probably protected from disease due to being a false-god, Poppy was part real-god herself, fueled by rage and spite and desperation. Used to survival and quick thinking from her very journey to the Cradle of Gods in the first place, she cursed the Huntress while it was still busy shrieking at her like a mindless beast.

(-1 Mana Overload)

Edited by JumpingFruit on Jan 9th 2021 at 9:44:50 AM

With the beast falling towards her, Sword had her bread and butter ready. Not something she did too often, but it was stylish, and she needed to show off.

"I've been with worse!" Sword roared out, and launched into the air, catching the Brute square in the head in a soaring uppercut, taking them both into the air. Sword loved putting on a show for anyone watching, but she only knew how to do this from learning, painfully, how to fuck it up. She followed up her uppercut with a spinning bicycle kick to keep the monster up there. One hand shot to her hat to keep it on as she flipped upside-down, and the other shot out backwards to grab the monster's head and shove it down, propelling herself back up into the air. All this said, she could buy herself a little time longer to survey the scene and determine whether to dropkick this guy or the monsters Cait was facing.

Dyersthel

His next strike had been dodged, and it looked like the axe the beast queen wielded would reap his legs next. The traveler was ready to attempt a dodge and a counter, but-
In an instant, the fight stopped.
In fact, everything stopped.
A loud, vile, piercing scream echoed in the air. Its intensity made even the two heated combatants stop in their tracks, and then all the beastmen began trembling and whimpering. Their acute ears had picked up on something he could not, most likely.

Well, that did not bode well, did it?
But, even though he could probably choose to ignore this event and finish off the opponent before him, he decided not to. I mean, it wouldn't really prove anything, if he did- and he knew that. He spoke.

"...I'll go check that out. You hold the fort here. We will finish our duel after this is done. ...If you still need to see my strength after that, that is."

And with that, he was off- towards where he heard the scream come from.

Nasira - Tower of Lost Refuge

The words on the scroll rang clearly in Nasira's mind despite the unfamiliar script - not knowing whether Masaru had the same response, she opted to read its contents aloud for him. What had happened seemed obvious but she had little time to verbalize it before a scream, a roar, came rolling through from the outside. Nasira checked the windows and from the distance could see the forest trembling as though an explosion went off within. Her first instinct was protective, but she held it - it had taken several hours to reach the tower, it would take several more to journey back. By then, any help they could render Poppy and Val would be far, far too late. No, better to focus on what was close and on hand in front of them first.

"...let's go help Sword and Caitlin, try to return with them here. Of where we've been, this tower seems safest from the beastmen and huntress, no doubt from the magic here turning this place into a sanctuary."

Masaru

Well, the events that had transpired had been nothing short of eerie, what with that incomprehensible speech that only Nasira could read, the screams and that pressure weighing down on him, as if the very tower objected to him. Still, it seemed there was naught to gain here, and more pressing matters were at hand, as Nasira pointed out. The battlefield suited him more anyways.

"Yes, let's. I have a feeling that this tower does not appreciate my presence in any way."

Masaru nodded back at the djinn, drawing his blade and leading the way back down to steps, illuminated by the soft glow of incandescent sparks swirling around his weapon. He wasn't going to object to getting back into the fight, after all, not when his companions were outnumbered and there was naught of value in staying here.