Oh and before i officially go,i wouldl ike to give a message to the great DM that is anthony:
I think you suffered from premature BANNU-ing,don't worrie i heard a lot of male DMs suffer from that.
Another explanation would be that you are constipated.Are you constipated Anthony?
Alright but i'll say one more thing before i go:
A good storyteller does not make for a good DM
"Just once, I'd like to get where we're trying to go without someone deciding to take potshots at us" Malyc griped, keeping low to the seat to present as small a target as possible. "Let's just hope they don't target the horses..."
He dared to peek out over the top of the wagon, but had to duck back before he could get a good count as several arrows launched out towards him. "Great. Just great." Malyc cursed, trying to formulate a plan that wouldn't get everyone killed.
Rena was very thankful that the two Fae brothers were protecting her but she didn't think that was needed. Pouting a little bit, she said. "They interrupted our song!" Grumbling, she lifted up a little bit before spreading her arms out to the sides. Almost all at once, a powerful gust of wind came in from all directions. This gust surrounded the carriage, and served to shield them from the arrows. However, she had her limits. "Hurry up Soreal! I can only hold this up for a minute or so!" Looking down at the cart, she asked. "Is anyone hurt?" She hoped no one had been killed by the ambush of arrows. That would have been a pretty pitiful way to die.
The carriage, now somewhat resembling a large, wooden pincushion was safe from the incoming fire for a moment. Fortunately, most of the passengers, being defended by the hard exterior of the buggy or by other means, went unscathed. However, the same could not be said for the exposed man riding on the rear. Athgar was wounded, an arrow was lodged between his left floating ribs, and he was in a great deal of pain.
"Oh gods, this hurts," Athgar proclaimed through clenched teeth, cluthing the base of the exposed arrow shaft. "My luck certainly seems to have taken a rather poor turn."
"Serves you right for keeping yourself in the open," said the familiar but none too welcome voice of Athgar's lute, its tone condescending and filled with spite.
At the front of the wagon, Soreal heaved a sigh of relief as the volleys had been momentarily ceased and he was once again allowed to keep his focus on the road. As they rounded a slight bend of the road, the large bridge could be seen ahead in a clearing. This came as a comforting revelation, but there was still much of the wooded area to be travelled beforehand.
"Everybody keep your head down," Soreal called to the passengers. "We're almost in the clear! Malyc, see if you can give them a little discouragement with your bow." Soreal didn't really expect his fellow Aquean to hit anything, he just figured it would give them something to consider at the very least.
"Thank ye, Rena," Terrus said to the female Fae. "Arborus, 'ow ye doin' o'er there, mate?"
"Qui'e alrigh'," Arborus replied. "Gorra couple arrows in me mask, but no worries 'ere."
"Tha's just grand. I want ye to get in the buggy, 'tis the safest place to be righ' about now."
"Fine, fine. On me way." The nature elemental quickly gathered both his and his brother's bags and tossed them into the wagon. "Look out below," he called just before releasing them from his grasp and through the window. Soon, the Fae followed his gear and found himself a spot to get comfortable in.
"Rena, I suggest ye do the same. We'll be outta the woods soon enough, but don't exhaust yerself completely," Terrus recommended as he withdrew his sling and pocketed a pebble, then began twirling it in preparation. "Go on, I'll be in righ' after ye."
"Alright, but keep the wagon away from the trees!." Malyc said, smoothly standing up and letting fly at the first bandit he saw. "I wouldn't want to get knocked off this thing. I'd be rather outnumbered given the current situation..."
It was a difficult shot, the speeding wagon combined with the uneven road, so he wasn't very surprised when the arrow flew wide of the mark. The same couldn't be said of the bandit, however, who was so shocked at the sudden appearance of the arrow in the tree next to his head that he backpedaled right over a fallen tree.
Figuring he was out of the fight, at least for the moment, Malyc fired arrow after arrow at the enemy positions. While he didn't do more than injure a few of them, he at least made them keep their heads down for a short time, and every second counted.
Rena was forced to release her barrier of wind after only thirty seconds of coverage. Falling to her knees, she panted a bit before saying to Terrus, who had suggested she take cover. "R-right. I'm out of magic..My bow is broken back at the mountains..I'll be taking cover now." She folded up her wings against her back and carefully climbed into the wagon before asking. "I don't suppose anyone would have something to replenish magic?"
The Stavros Bridge is the largest stone bridge, and definitely the largest arched structure in all of Sophisma. It connects both rises in the river valley located in the very center of the kingdom and stretches on for an entire kilometer. The bridge rests atop two equal-sized arches meeting at a large support structure in the middle of the river; both sections span for five-hundred meters and have a breadth of thirty meters. No doubt a majestic show of masonry, it served another, far more important purpose; it was the tether between the two halves of Sophisma, cut by the great divide that is Straylight River. At the middle of the bridge, directly above the support column, sits an outpost defended by dozens of King Antonius's royal guards. All of which were now dead, strewn about with severed limbs and heads, others with gaping holes ripped through their torsos.
The five culprits stood atop the parapet of the outpost, looking out at the approaching wagon which was just a small, slowly growing splotch against the green forest canvas. Each one was eight feet tall and clad in armor of tempered obsidian. Each set of armor was gilded with unique and intricate patterns, ornate with runes of a long-lost language. At the hands and feet of the armor were large, razor-sharp obsidian claws at the ends of large rounded bracers and greaves. The one in the middle motioned to the two on his left, then the two on his right, speaking to them in gruff, blunt vocalizations and fast, sharp clicks.
Almost immediately, both flanks darted over opposite edges with lightning speed and began clambering down the sides of the stone bridge. Fifty meters below, on the west side of the middle support structure and beneath the bridge, they stood outwards with their foot-claws firmly planted into the masonry. They stretched their arms up towards the underside of the bridge and, in unison, their clawed hands were shot upward. Attatched to the base of the clawed hands were obsidian chains which were pulled taut once the claws were embedded into the stone bridge. All at once, the obsidian warriors pulled with full force and the stone around their planted claws began cracking. The cracks grew longer and wider, until the bridge couldn't hold its weight anymore. Most of the western arch came loose from its grounded supports and fell into the river below; stone crumbled and fractured as it fell, hitting the water with a roaring splash then hitting the riverbed with a dull thud.
With the first part of their task completed, the obsidian warriors climbed to the eastern side of the support structure, then crawled up to the underside of the bridge and towards the far end of the eastern arch. The one that stood atop the bridge outpost kept his eyes on the approaching carriage full of the unsuspecting passengers that would surely meet their end. Knowing that the outpost hid the destruction of the western arch, the obsidian warrior darted towards the edge and under the bridge to meet with the others...
Terrus was slinging stones as quick as he could, keeping one side of bandits suppressed while the Aquean up front kept fire on the other. It wasn't long before his sling-stone pouch was emptied as he was forced to make a hasty retreat into the cabin of the carriage. Meanwhile, Soreal was keeping his head low while still managing to keep the horses at top speed as Athgar hung onto the rear of the carriage for dear life.
"How's everybody doing back there?" Soreal called out.
"I'm alright!" Gnūrlon answered Soreal. He started pulling his metal spears of his back so he could attack their attackers. He quickly poked his head out of the door window to analyze the battlefield. He could atleast see four bandits that were taking aim at the wagon and he decided to aim at them. He pulled back his head, grabbed one of his spears and kicked the door open.
He grabbed the door knob and leaned outside of the wagon, half outside, half inside. He pulled his spear behind him, preparing to throw. A single arrow flew straight past him and into the wagon, and suddenly one of the bandits crouched to avoid Malycs rain of arrows. Gnūrlon decided to throw his spear at the bandit in the middle.
With one motion he threw the spear past his shoulder. The wagon bumped into a rock and all of the companions got caught of guard and lost their balance.
Gnūrlon dropped his spear. It fell. It dug deep into the ground next to the wagon and was several metres behind them in a couple of seconds. Gnūrlon watched in fear as his weapon slowly disappeared out of sight.
The sound of metal breaking caught Gnūrlons ears.
He looked to his right and saw the doors hinges slowly giving away.
A sudden snap was heard, and the door was missing it's higher hinge. Gnūrlon was helplessly hanging outside of the wagon with only a door knob between him and the hard, quckly moving, ground.
Malyc reached for another arrow only to find his quiver empty. REALLY??? He thought, Now is not the time for shit like this to be happening
Just before he could take cover on the bench, though, he noticed Gnurlon hanging out of the wagon, desperately trying to get back inside. Thinking quickly, Malyc dove onto the roof of the wagon, keeping as low as possible to avoid getting hit by enemy archers, who were sure to notice the lack of returning fire. He quickly slid into position and lowered a hand to the helpless dwarf.
"Grab my hand!" He shouted, grunting as an arrow grazed his back. "Quickly, before they kill us both!"
Frozen by terror, Drogon watched the ambush unfold. It had all gone so fast, and suddenly Athgar had been hit, Rena had gone out of the wagon to protect the party, though only to come back more exhausted when her sweet, saving gusts of wind had disappeared.
And now, Gnūrlon and his host was hanging helplessly from a breaking door.
Luckily, Malyc was giving Gnūrlon a hand, and luckily so, as the deadeye archer most certainly was a lot stronger in his upper body.
"I'm sorry Gnūrlon!", Drogon shouted over the sound of panicking horses and the hissing of arrows close by.
Mustering what powers he could, Drogon conjured a thick layer of ice where the door previously had been. While it was far from unbreakable, it might by him and everyone else inside the wagon some time.
The downside however, was that it made it impossible for Gnūrlon to be dragged back inside that way.
"Rena! I need your help with Athgar here, I think he's bleeding out!". While the bloody and obviously hurting luteplayer was hurtful to even watch, adrenaline and sense of duty helped the cryomancer.
He needed something to stop the bleed with? But what? He could always tear up his robe.
Drogon took a look at his robe, the second most prized object he owned.
Instead, he took out his dagger and cut off a piece of Athgar's shirt.
"It just won't stop!" Drogon shouted to himself, trying to fight the stream of blood leaking from the arrow's entry wound.
Gnūrlon grabbed Malycs hand hand used all his strength to throw himself on top of the wagon.
With a single swing Gnūrlon was in the middle of a backflip. Seems like the added strength from the symbiosis helped a great deal.
An arrow flew right past him, but he ignored it and fell softly on top of Malyc.
The wagon was jostled as the road changed from the pressed dirt to the smooth stone of the bridge. The volleys of arrows had come to a quick halt as the forest ended and empty space occupied both sides of the path. By the time the carriage was completely in the clear, it may as well have been an oversized porcupine on wheels. Still surprisingly, there seemed to be only one person with serious injury.
"We made it!!" Soreal shouted, and though they appeared to be safe, he hadn't slowed the horses until they had reached the outpost gate. It was strangely calm right out front of the iron-reinforced wood gate to the Stavros Tunnel, which passed through the outpost and ended on Western Stavros Bridge. The Aquean hadn't thought much of the silence at that moment, he was just ecstatic about making it here. Swiftly, he leapt down from the driver's seat and examine the wagon, which he now realized had a fresh wall of ice.
On the opposite end, the door opened and the two Fae brothers spilled out onto the pavement. Just as swiftly as they had tumbled out, they were up on their feet, dusting themselves off and gathering their gear.
"Well, tha' was..." Terrus started.
"Interesting," Arborus said, cutting in briefly.
"Aye," Terrus agreed, "to say in the least."
Meanwhile, Athgar was in the rear of the buggy, gasping for breath which grew ever shorter. The bleeding had slowed to a halt, though much was already on his hands and clothes. He was pale and weakened by the loss of blood, his vision was fading as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
Malyc hopped off the roof of the wagon, and checked to see what the fuss was about inside. He needed only one look at Athgar to realize that he hadn't the skill necessary to save the lutist, so he decided to check the perimeter to ensure there wasn't any more bandits around.
Where are all the guards? Malyc thought. Last time I was through here, it was pretty well manned. Something isn't right.
"Soreal, I'm going to check deeper into the outpost. Something isn't right here." He shouted back to the wagon. As he walked in, Malyc loosened his blades in their sheaths, ready for whatever may come.
Rena was still exhausted from using up all her magic, and when she was asked to help save Athgar, she shook her head and said. "My magic is drained right now, I can hardly move. P-plus.." She gulped before saying. "I-I don't like having blood on my hands. That's mainly why I use ranged weapons and magic."
Sweat slid down Aaron's face, he had only barely managed to react to the bandits onslaught. A sheet of ice held several arrows inches from his face and body. As the adrenaline rush wore off he realized he hadn't brought up his makeshift shield of ice quick enough, and one of the arrows had pierced about an inch into his thigh, his wound wasn't serious but the bleeding wouldn't stop.
"Heh I got careless... I could use a hand guys" Aaron said weakly
Afraid of blood? AFRAID OF BLOOD?
"WELL, IF YOU'RE THAT USELESS, GET OUT OF HERE! YOU'RE JUST IN THE WAY!" Drogon shouted.
For the first time in years, Drogon felt his blood boil. If that useless, little fae brat couldn't help at all, she'd better get the Vulkan out of there.
"Get out, get the others. I don't care if you're tired, or not comfortable around blood, just get me someone that's not a pathetic little girl". The cryomancer's voice was much lower now, but just as menacing as the outraged shouting.
"Just hang tight Aaron, the rest are coming soon, but Athgar requires more attention at the moment."
Athgar was slipping in and out of conciousness, and the slips were lasting longer and longer for every minute that passed.
"Oh for Vulkan's sake, don't you die on me now!". The panicking vulcan was desperately shaking the bleeding mage's shoulders. "Stay with us, ok! Stay concious!".
But no matter how much he shouted, Athgar was loosing what little blood he had left in his pale, weakening body.
Rena growled at Drogon when he said the things that he did. Standing up, she said. "Why don't you get them yourself!? He's a lost cause anyways! I didn't see you doing ANYTHING except protect yourself while we were under attack, so before calling me useless why don't you look at yourself! You didn't even let Malyc help Gnurlon into the cart before making that ice wall! It was THIS little Fae girl that made the wind shield that stopped a good number of the arrows. Arrows that probably would have hit YOU if it hadn't been up!" She left the cart and started running for Malyc, angry that someone could be that ungrateful for what she had done.
Finally, after quite some time, Athgar's wound had stopped bleeding. It was unknown whether it was due to the desperate efforts of Drogon or just his body's refusal to shed any more blood, but even still, it was clear the man was within the last inch of his life. He breathing, though ragged and strained, became steady and he was in a state of semiconsciousness in the rear of the buggy.
Soreal walked around the other side of the wagon to see what the commotion was after hearing the loud outbursts of Drogon and Rena. When he arrived, he saw Rena storming away from the wagon and the baffled Fae brothers looking from her to the carriage. Soreal was about to speak up what all of a sudden the bridge shook and loud crumbling and crashing was heard as the eastern bridge began breaking and falling into the river below. The noise alone was more than enough to set the Fae brothers' focus on the falling section of the stone bridge.
"Uhh..." Arborus was perplexed and uncertain in regards to who could have done that. "Terrus?"
"Tha' def'nitely weren't me," Terrus responded, just as perplexed as his brother.
Soreal just stood in awe and the new gap that was now between the elevated stone island they were currently on and East Sophisma. After the stone had come to a rest in the river bed below, the world around them grew quiet. Loose chunks of stone silently fell from the crumbling ends of what remained of the bridge. Even the river below seemed to have been made quiet to the group, as if stilled by the loss of the bridge. The Aquean was the first to break the stillness as he stepped toward the gap, then broke the silence with his bewilderment.
"What in the name of -" was all Soreal could let out before he was stopped by the sight of a large black shadow shooting up from the unevened edge of the bridge.
The leader of the obsidian warriors had leapt from beneath the bridge and onto its surface, the stone cracked beneath his foot claws from the impact. Soreal froze in place, not having even passed the Fae brothers who both were frozen in shock as well. Another stillness swept over the group as it took a moment for what they were seeing to sink in. The obsidian warrior was the one to break this stillness as he stretch his arms outward and shot his claws towards the carriage. The claws were planted into the rear panels before being reeled back to their owner; the wood on the rear of the carriage being immediately ripped open as if it were naught but dead and dried tree bark.
The warrior shot one of his claws towards the carriage once more, right at the exposed passengers inside. The fine points of the claws lodged themselves into Athgar's back, sinking deep into his flesh, then were reeled back, bringing the unfortunate man along with it. Once the clawed hand rested back into its obsidian socket, an aura grew around it. However, this aura didn't radiate light of any sort, it appeared to be radiating darkness, as if it were draining all light near it.
Athgar, now hanging from the hooked claws of the obsidian warrior, was no longer dazed and limp from blood loss and exhaustion. Every muscle in his body tensed up as if electricity was being shot into him. His eyes widened immensely and he let out a long, bloodcurdling scream which had begun to sound as if it were coming from the end of a grand hallway which was growing ever larger; his voice becoming a fading echo. As this was happening, his body began changing as well; his skin began to wither and blacken, his body was becoming thinner and thinner until it was just skin and bone. The obisian warrior threw Athgar's withered husk of a corpse onto the cold stone bridge surface, its face turned towards the outpost and contorted into an expression of agonizing horror.
Not even the beautiful pyroclasm mercilessly raging within the bowels of Mt. Vulkan itself could compare to the sheer amount of terror Drogon had just witnessed.
Frozen, an unmoving pillar in the ocean of time he had been forced to witness the seemingly unstoppable giant in grim armour pick the dying Athgar up like he was weightless.
Only to throw him away again as he was little but a macabre ragdoll.
The cryomancer had always had a talent for feeling the magic around him. But where the mysterious crystals or the sage himself had left him rather confused, the pure darkness of the killer lead little room for doubt.
Whatever this is, it's not of our world. I've never felt... never imagined... this is not for my mind to understand. Where magic is the food we eat, the water we drink, the very air we so sweetly breathe, this is silence. Where magic is everything, this is nothing. It's an abomination, a violation of what I've built my life around.
In a legend of old, or a tale from a bard's honeyed tongue, this would have given a mighty hero his time to shine, filled with bloodlust and courage.
Drogon wanted little more than to flee. To leave this damned situation behind. If only his legs would listen to his commands.
More falling than running out of the shredded wagon, he hastily traversed the short distance between the menacing monstrosity and the two fae brothers, firstly crawling then running across the hard stones.
But that was as far as he got.
The grim giant still stood there for a short while. Watching the group like a man watches a nest of bugs, before he lifts his foot and rains death upon the insects.
His gaze filled with the unwordly presence the mage of House LaArel has just felt. Drogon froze in his tracks, unable to formulate another thought.
Only one made it through the deadly veil.
Is this the end? It all came so soon...
Malyc had barely reached the door of the outpost when the bridge went down. Well... And I thought this day couldn't get any worse...
That thought was quickly proven unlikely, as an obsidian giant leaped up onto the bridge, destroyed the wagon, and turned Athgar into a dessicated corpse. And then that shows up... Malyc thought. It seems that I may have inadvertently angered someone or something powerful Malyc quickly looked the behemoth over, and could tell that it was like nothing he had ever faced before. No visible weaknesses, the ability to apparently steal the souls of its victims, and enough strength to destroy the largest structure in Sophisma. Not an opponent to face head on, and preferably not at all.
For the first time in years, Malyc felt fear sneaking into his mind. He had stood before scores of enemies, had challenged some of the mightiest animals of the region, and none of those experiences had prepared him for this.
Still, he tried not to let the fear show, mainly for the benefit of the group. They needed their minds to be clear, not clouded by panic, and so he tried to appear confident in the face of this newest threat.
"Uhhh... Guys?" Malyc shouted, hoping to break them out of their stupor. "You might want to hurry and get inside" With that, Malyc turned and kicked the door in, opening their only likely escape route.
Aaron realized that he was lying injured and forgotten, and realized he would have to get the arrow out of his leg if he was to be able to escape. Gritting his teeth, Aaron held his hands over the arrow shaft, he called upon his power over the earth to bend and twist the metal of the arrow head so it was smooth and thin and easily withdrawn. He quickly yanked the now harmless arrow out of his leg, and a river of blood began flowing forth. Aaron called an intense flame to his hand and pressed down as hard as he could on the wound. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt, he doubled over and cried out in agony. He removed his hand from the now cauterized wound and looked up, seeing the world through a shade of red brought on by the pain. The group was heading into the nearby outpost. Aaron stumbled forward, lurching with each step, desperate not to be left behind.
Rena was now, more than ever, really trying to get to the shelter that Malyc had opened up for them. She had seen what had happened to the already doomed Athgar, and deep down she thought that it would have been less painful for him to have just bled out. Not wanting to end up like the skeleton that had been Athgar, she ran past Malyc and said. "What the heck was that thing!? It was really scary looking and reeeally strong! And did you see what had happened to Athgar!? Ohh~ This is not good at all." She hoped that the shelter Malyc led them into would keep them relatively safe from the creature.
Gnūrlon fell off the wagon when the black figure ripped apart the back, and hit the ground with a loud thud.
First the bridge falls down and now a man in armor rips apart the wagon with some sort of claw-shooter. When Gnūrlon finally managed to get up from the ground he could see how the man in armor had Athgar in his grasp. Gnūrlon was dazed by the sudden impact but could see that Athgar got... thinner? He couldn't believe his eyes. When Athgar was completely mummified the armored man threw Athgar's corpse to the side.
Albin felt uncomfortable and was suprised that he didn't really fear what had just happened. He had a strange feeling that he had witnessed something similar before, and could thus handle the situation better.
Gnūrlon was just a tad scared. Since Albin's and Gnūrlon's bonding they had much easier to handle stress than before. Gnūrlon started to remember how frightened he was when he was that day when he first met Albin. He was so scared that a life could've ended, so he sacrificed his own freedom to save it. After that, they could together kill any animal, human, creature or beast they deemed necessary to remove from this world. He still cared for life, though he could now deal with death much easier. He didn't think to much of Athgar's sudden death, after all, they had only known each other for a short period of time. Though Gnūrlon now feared that Albin could get killed, and he cared more for Albin than anything else, since he's been the only person he could call a friend in his entire life.
"Guys? Maybe we should start running in the opposite direction." Gnūrlon said.
He saw how the group was frozen in terror, and didn't expect an answer.
Aaron clutched his wound with his hand, willing some modicum of healing magic to work. He cursed his lack of study in the healing arts, the most he could do was numb the pain. "I second that guys, we gotta get moving or that thing will kill us all. Fight if you like, I have no plans to die here"
"Oh," was all Arborus could utter as he watched the horrifying fate of the lutist unfolded before him.
"Gods," Terrus had followed with, sharing his brother's bewilderment at the whole scene.
Soreal watched the events, mouth agape, and was unable to utter a single sound. He'd never seen anything like this before, had never heard of such beings existing, or even magic that could do what the obsidian warrior before him was doing. Whatever it was, it was not of this world; that he could be certain of. His shock, as well as the others' it seemed, was broken by Malyc's loud voice as he encouraged they make a swift clearing of the bridge. "Everybody, inside! Now!!"
Terrus and Arborus bolted towards the outpost, more of wing-assisted leaping than running, and joined the others that had passed through the doorway. The obsidian being began stepping towards the outpost, slowly gaining speed as he moved towards Soreal and Drogon. The Aquean grabbed the frozen mage by his arm and almost dragged him to the outpost and ushered him inside before entering shortly after. The door was immediately slammed and bolted shut, throwing them all into darkness, save for the small crack of light that shone in from the miniscule gap between the door and the floor.
Terrus, used to the darkness of his caves back home, had adjusted much more quickly to the darkness than the others and quickly began navigating through the darkness, his brother following his footsteps. Terrus had begun to make out many figures scattered across the floor and his eyes widened with mild surprise. "I don' think we're alone 'ere, people."
Arborus smelled something putrid and grimaced in displeasure, "Ugh, wha' is tha' awful stench?"
"Quick, somebody! We need a light!!" Terrus said with urgency.
Aaron held his hands together and conjured a blazing fireball, the dim light barely illuminated the room casting deep dancing shadows about everywhere, Aaron's eyes hadn't adjusted, and he couldn't see much.
"Whats out there?"
Drogon had no idea how he managed to get inside the outpost. The heavy sound of the door being bolted behind him did its best to snap him out of his current state of mind. A haze of terror and emotions. Gathering himself as best he could, he followed the childlike Terrus into the darkness.
Drogon felt his foot kick into something. It was heavy, yet soft, and felt as if it was connected to something. Something up against the wall.
The stench told a tale of its own. Drogon started breathing through his mouth, to minimize the effect of the dreadful smell. It didn't work. He couldn't see what it was. His eyes was not to used to the lack of light. He was a mage, he dealt in light, not some filthy cutthroat living a life in the light. Or worse, a miner, or some other man, doing physical work, fit for lesser men.
By Vulkan, my life could have ended in many worse ways.
Light stung as something, or someone, lighted up the darkness. The flames in Aaron's hands danced, and it's shadow thralls moved with it.
"By the Gods...". This old phrase, from a faith he had left behind ages ago, was all he could say to describe the sight before him. No peace for the dead. What has this world become?
He looked down. It was a foot he had kicked. Of course.
Part of him knew it the second he hit it. His mind needed sight to believe itself.
"Death... Death is out there".
Malyc looked at the carnage all around the room. He hadn't seen anything like this in years, and the sight and smell took him back to another time.
He remembered the last battlefield he'd been on, the piles of corpses, the cries of the wounded, the silence of the dead. He remembered the horror of watching his fellow soldiers fall around him. He remembered the guilt, of being one of the few survivors.
Remembering that their current situation didn't allow for thinking about days gone by, Malyc shook himself out of his reverie and began to consider the options available to them. They were obviously outmatched. The black warrior's unusual abilities, as well as it's size told him that much. They were down a man, which showed them that even a touch from the warrior was deadly. Half the bridge was down, cutting off one of their escape routes. They were hundreds of feet above the river, so that left the other side of the bridge as their only easy option.
"I don't think we're as safe in here as we think we are." He said. "If what killed all these men is what was outside, it can get in whatever we do. If it wasn't, then whatever did it may still be inside with us. In either case, be on your guard, stick together, and try to remain as quiet as possible." Malyc drew one of his blades, keeping it at a low guard position, and began to search the room for survivors, useful items, and a way out.
Rena gulped a little bit as she stuck as close to Malyc as she could without actually bumping into him. She didn't like this place at all, but it felt a whole lot safer than being outside with whatever that thing had been. Using the top of her dress as a muffler to help filter out the smell, she asked in a whisper to Malyc. "What do you think that thing was? It definitely didn't seem human..Was it..like those undead villagers? Could they be connected somehow?"
In the dim light, corpses and limbs could be seen strewn about the large room. Most tables and chairs were overturned or broken, bookcases were seen with broken shelves; their former contents spilled before them. Large blood spatters were on much of the walls, and clotted pools of blood lied around every bit of open flesh on the corpses, those with gaping holes in their torsos or stomachs ripped open leaked putrid bile which mixed with the crimson pools. The sights seemed to empower the smell of the room, which already housed a terrible stench. The warm thickness of the air wasn't helping with the smell in the slightest, at least not for the better.
"Awh, yuck!" Terrus exclaimed as he stepped back into a pool of blood and bile. Almost immediately he began wiping his feet on the offending corpse's clothes. "Bloody sonofa..."
"Terrus! 'Ave some respect fer the dead," Arborus scolded.
"'Ow about ye step innit an' then tell me 'ow ye like it, eh?"
"Well, maybe ye should watch where yer steppin', ye clumsy fool."
"Maybe ye should watch just 'ow ye're runnin' that gob o' yers afore I-"
"Alright! Enough, you two," Soreal broke in, ending the little spat between the Fae brothers. "That thing is still out there and I doubt very much that door will hold it back. And Malyc's right, there may very well be something still in here. Let's stick together and try to make it out of this is alive."
While Malyc rummaged around, Soreal made his way across the room to an unhinged door. The low light from Aaronks flame was just enough to see right outside of the door, but not any further down the hall that the doorway led to. The Aquean turned back towards the rest of the group and cleared his throat to get their attention. "We're going to need a torch..."