• Mature • With Fist and Thunder

[Patrick]

His footsteps pounded hard and heavy as he began with a hefty job down the street with hopes of evading the main event, the sound of the horde focused in a place towards the center of the Earth Quarter. Already he could see the shadows on the ground twitch and shudder as a black sort of mist started to condensate, with figures of darkness already swimming within the black clouds as he picked up the pace. He had to keep running if he wanted to get away, the shadows had their tendency to reach out and grab him, if not attack with their own malicious intent anyways. He could hear whispers of people he knew within their midst and between each sprint he made, he breathed heavily in an effort to try and extend his capacity to cover more distance. Some good it did for him at this rate though.

The shadows finally moved with their own form and several blockaded the street he'd ran down, and with a quick made decision he turned to the left for a run down into the alleyway nearby. He didn't intend to let them stop him from running as his life depended on it, a couple of knights and brave civilians caught in a tangle with a couple of larger shadows. By the time he'd reached them one of the knights had fallen down from a blow, their sword skidded across the cobblestone in his direction while the others struggled to hold their ground. Now that he'd scored his chance for a weapon he went with it and grabbed the sword, its weight a foreign matter as the metal proved difficult to easily swing at first. In short his charge into the fray came up with a lunge that brought his sword in a downward arc, while the others scrambled to fend off the other large shadow that assaulted them. His entry had caught the one they'd left open off guard, and in one fell swoop the hefty broadsword plummeted down into the shadow creature. There was a loud 'swoosh' as the creature dissipated into the thick black mist once more, the other felled by the knight and civilian as he helped the downed knight onto his feet. "Good work civilian, you should return back to where its safe."

"Never mind that," Patrick dismissed as he focused on the other civilian there, "You! Head down that alleyway behind ya, take a left and keep goin' until you reach the Boar." He issued more in the form of an invitation rather than an order, hopeful the man would do as he said and seek out shelter from these creatures. The knights now ready able to focus on attempts to secure this area, Patrick left their presence with the broadsword in hand as he held it awkwardly with two hands. He definitely needed to get well acquainted with the weapon at this rate, if he wanted to be able to defend himself from further danger along the way. Intent on resuming his higher priority of seeking others, he moved onward to the sounds of thunder and lighting, aware that the bulk of the fray might be where he were safer... or at least held a better survival rate than where he was. There wasn't much time left if he wanted to help more lives be saved, what little difference he made out here mattered in ways he could not yet imagine. For now though he would continue the pursuit of the struggle, hopeful that the carnage from this chaos would soon come to pass.

[Rocan]

The clicking of horseshoes snapped off the walls like the ringing of funereal bells. Rocan steered through the Quarters carefully, his eyes would often dart to any knot or twist of blackness in his sight, and ever so often, the blackness would move and dance as if to acknowledge his presence.

The streets he and Chestnut rode through were a welter of silence, eyes would often gaze worriedly out the slits of closed shutters and voices would often call out in whispers to offer refuge. In the distance, violence rang like a trumpet of war. Death hung with the tangibility of a naked breast.

Chestnut moved through the streets with stride of a show-horse, her muscles waved and twisted gracefully across her white frame, her head dipped over so lowly as if she was prepared for battle. She huffed alertedly, her ears perked and twitched suddenly! Her head rose as her body tensed.

“What's the matter girl?” Rocan asked, his hands tightened about the leather-reins. Chestnut began to move forward cautiously.

She snorted! There was a scream!

Leather snapped and the mercenary braced. Chestnut moved quickly! Her form cascaded down the streets and Rocan clenched to the straps tightly with his left hand. Another snaked toward the waist!

The scream grew louder! Chestnut gained wind as the street bent. The scream turned into harsh, frightful shrill and Rocan saw the shadows ahead grow darker. They moved and weaved like shapeless serpents. He'd unsheathed his cutlass; and was riding awkwardly now!

The scream rose again as Chestnut came to the mouth of the bend...

Darkness...

It was all Rocan saw before him. Chestnut neighed fretfully to an agitated stop but her rider hadn't yet come to his senses at the sight before him. The mare staggered as Rocan jerked the reins. He was staring into an abyss, a quagmire of writhing, gelatinous blackness. The shadows were a pond of sable, squirming, dancing, shrilling all around a young woman like a cyclone. In their odd, almost sacrificial amalgamation, Rocan could see that they had already killed two others now laying crookedly at the girls feet. The young woman, whose pale skin had been flayed across the arms with surgical precision, was on her knees, caked in blood that gleamed in the shadows.

She crooked, screaming as a gash formed across her chest! Blood flushed out her lips and she sobbed, screamed, and wailed hopelessly. She was already dead, Rocan thought with clenched jaw. Another gash formed across her scalp, her hair was torn completely off instantly... The white of her skull protruded before she fell headlong into a pool of blood not yet mixed with her own. She cried... and prayed.

“Illaren... help... me...” her words were burning in the suffocating air.

Rocan watched. His eyes moved through the mass sharply. He'd been gnawing on his jaw unconsciously. His lips pursed and pressed together. He whistled in a short burst of breath and mire burst apart abruptly! They ripped apart like a sea of confusion but never departed. They took a visage not all together human but something akin to it – crooked and murderous. In their featureless, incomprehensible shapes, Rocan could feel their eyes trained on him. Their numbers, he wasn't certain of, but there were many.

Rocan looked at the weaving masses and turned to the young woman, she was propped on one arm and looking up almost too desperately for Rocan to bear. The young man bit his teeth and spoke, “Get out of here! Run! I'll distract these things...”

Her nod was low and full of defeat, her grunts as she forced herself to stand before she collapsed in a heap of her own torn body, whimpering in prayer, were none worth watching. Rocan straightened. His eyes were set in frigidity. The shadows were growing all around him and Chestnut. “I hope you live to see the sun tomorrow.” the mercenary said firmly as he steered Chestnut beside the woman.

She looked up with bloodshot eyes, her mouth moved but was empty of words. Rocan stole a final glance; the shadows were a swarm now, all around them. The cutlass rose and moved in an arch above the head of the woman. There was a slash. A shrill! And the shadow Rocan had slain burst into fluttering tendrils.

“Get out of here...” Rocan commanded. The shadows were a swarm about him now! “Get away!” he said with another swipe of his blade that aggravated the horde! “Chestnut, move girl! Go!” the command was enough and mare bolted suddenly! Wading through the mire with Rocan slashing all around him! Their shrills were nothing he'd ever heard and he wasn't sure if they actually hurt or taunting him. It didn't matter, he'd gained their attention. They were after him now!

Chestnut dipped and pushed through the knotty blackness. At first it moved alongside her but as she gained speed, it bit at her heels like living tar. Rocan held reins tightly, he bent forward to balance himself. Chestnut was obedient, but not always... A glance back and Rocan saw the woman stand and wobble off before some people came out their homes quickly and took her by the arms. It was all he saw before the shadows blocked the rear; moving closer and faster...

“Shit...” he swore.

The chase was unlike any he'd ever been in, shadows moved and bounced all around him, behind him and even across the walls. As he moved, he heard a rip down his sleeve and felt a nibble of pain from a cut... they were closing him. The streets only stretched and bent and makeshift barricades only got in the way. He thought suddenly... with a quick, forceful tug, Chestnut turned sharply and into an alley. The shadows followed still, the channel was well lit by the daylight.

Chestnut neighed as they escaped the alley and pushed into another. They moved into two more before the mare began to tire and buck restlessly.

“Ches... naaah!” the horse lurched! Its massive form tumbled and rolled out the alley whilst Rocan slammed into the street. He snarled and felt his sword loosen. The swarm entered and went over him like a cloud of death...

For a moment there was nothing but darkness as he rose to his feet. He shook the confusion out his eyes and felt movement all around him. Swords arched in his sight, a shade came rushing and the mercenary took a stance before swiping fluidly, dispersing it! A Lightning Knight roared and pushed his blade into a shadow Rocan.

“Watch it!” the man said before moving onto another shade! Behind him, Rocan heard another knight curse and chant, “For Rharne!”

The sellsword quickly realized he'd joined a fray that had just begun. Arrows from nowhere skirted over his head and shadows ruptured all around him. He searched and saw that Chestnut had moved into an alley for safety. His cutlass was tight in his grip. At least I won't be fighting these things alone, he mused before wiped away some blood that had formed on his bruised lip.

His eyes were set frigidity. In the twisting darkness, Rocan moved no differently from the shadows, yet he fought to kill them...

[Zenith]

With Fist and Thunder

As the knights cut down the shadows with steel and lightning, the priestesses stood back and let them work. Though not unfamiliar with combat, they were not as well trained as their counter parts. Amara stood, her hands nervously working at the edge of her gold cloak, and worry creasing her brow. Though the creatures were easily felled with little more than a single blow mostly, it was their sheer numbers that made her fret so. That, and the creatures weren't at all harmless as the countless wounded and dead showed. Numerous people with scratches and wounds that looked as though they had been caught by creature from their nightmares.

Though she worried about it, Amara knew there was nothing she could say to Vigs to dissuade him from fighting in the defense of Rharne. This was his home, and he was extremely loyal, and protective of it. Amara always said that's why he made a great Commander and was one of the best options for The Council.

As the fighting continued others seemed to join the fray. A blonde woman with a braid downed a few shades with bow and arrow before taking to the streets with shield and sword. Soon after a man who's face was blackened by something, began cutting down shadows with care, though at one point lost his footing and was almost swarmed by the shades. Luckily one of Vigs' men was there to disperse the creatures and pull the man to his feet. With a quick line to the man about "getting to shelter" the knight returned to the job of clearing the street.

Bits passed and Amara's breath caught as one of the knights was knocked prone. There was a flash, and then lightning ripped through the shadows that descended upon the knight. With hand outstretched the knight regained his feet, and with a grim expression returned to work.

"ENOUGH!" Vig'tyrn's voice boomed out across the fray. "Men, lets show these motherless shades why the call us Stormbringers!" With that Vigs dropped his war mace and with another flash lighting jumped from his hands, ripping through every shadow it touched before guttering out a few yards away. The other knights followed suit, sheathing their swords before throwing lightning of their own down the street. All being mindful of the civilian in their midst and the buildings that flanked them on both sides.

After a what felt like a life time, but couldn't have been more than a handful of bits or two, the street was clear, and following Amara's lead the priestesses moved down the street. First checking the knight and the civilians that had fought in the street for any wounds before starting to go door to door offering their services were needed.

[Patrick]

Patrick moved onward just a little further to find yet another shadow being had formed, clustered by minuscule shadows that displayed frantic behavioral movements. His feet firmly grounded to hold his advance, a few steps taken back as the pack leader of the shadows rose even higher. It was a tall thing with its humanoid features all but skew, the limbs resembled that of a poorly drawn sketch suddenly brought to life. "Well shit." He cursed as he took another couple of steps back, a glance over his shoulder followed as he noticed the knights still fought. With such ferocity and tenacity demonstrated among their ranks, Pat was quickly reminded why his brother had joined the order so long ago.

"Dom." He mumbled softly with a fist clenched tightly, his capacity of fear turned into a well of courage. He wasn't going to let this monster overcome him, not without fighting back against it with its minions to boot. Clumsily he handled the broadsword in his right hand, the hefty weight better balanced when the left grasped the hilt. At least he felt sure he could control it better with two hands, and now that he bared his blade against the enemy, he finally stood his ground before the first few smaller shadows leaped at him. Patrick drew back a step and staggered due to his awkward footwork, the sword brought over his form in a downward slash, which in turn cut one of the three midair creatures in half. There was a burst of black fog as the first diminished before him, as the other two seemed to quickly close in on him. Patrick didn't allow himself to be caught off guard, his wrists shifted angles to help change the direction his hands could swing. From the lower left of his side he swung the weapon upward in an obtuse line, the second creature suffered the same fate as the one before it.

The third however had drawn in too close before he could react in time, and so Patrick felt the force of a tackle land onto his upper left arm. He recoiled back with his grip on the sword no longer there, the weapon freely fell through the air as he in turn landed on his back. Metal clanged against the sound of cobblestone as the sword landed with a slide, the lack of friction drew it further out of reach. Patrick made a loud groan as he tried to regain his bearings, the wind nearly knocked out of him from the fall he'd endured. His hands and feet desperately wormed at the stone to claw him backwards, to further the lack of distance between him and the smaller shadow. "Shit, shit, shit!" He desperately swore in an effort to escape, his eyes widened with horror as the beasts drew closer in. They had nearly got to him when lightning tore through the streets however, their thunderous sound rattled Pat's rib cage to its very core as he watched in despair.

The creatures were instantly vaporized by the hit they took from the blast, their traces of black fog scattered like particles to the wind. Suddenly everything seemed quiet now. His breath had been held for what felt like bits, until finally he sighed in relief knowing the event was finally over. "Thank the Fates." He murmured as he allowed himself to fall back once more, his arms used to pillow his head from the street he laid upon. Pat just remained there for a little bit as he mulled over what had just occurred, just how close he was to nearly losing his life in that brief moment. Yet he felt... so alive. Almost like the fight for survival became a thrill all on its own. He felt able to stand once more and when he did, he looked to see that the knights and priests were aiding others, something he pretty much wasn't really good with at this rate. More or less he had done his part in all of this, some people were saved while some were lost in the carnage, and he'd done more than enough by sending stragglers back to the Boar when he found them. Now it was time to head back himself and let the others know that danger had passed, hopefully, and that they could tend to the wounded and damages done in the city by those monsters.

OOC

Well, sorry it took so long to get to this! Lost it somewhere in the pile of threads I've garnered over the month, anyways this will be my last post of the thread as Patrick's gone to resume his day at the Boar.

[Wendell]

After scrambling to his feet and righting the grip on his weapon, Wendell cut through a shadow that had come too close for comfort and ducked behind one of the knights as more and more of the blasted creatures descended. It was then a voice bellowed loudly, signalling for the knights to give it their all, and all around the air crackled with electricity, lighting up the whole street.

Wendell wasn't about to wait around for round two, and sprinted from the group and down a small lane that ran between the buildings positioned in the middle of the street he lived on and the one he worked on. He jumped at a sudden movement at the end of the lane, but realised it was just another person trying to outrun the same trouble. The strangers exchanged an uneasy look and passed each other without a second glance.

On the other side the street looked clear, but one could never be too careful, and for this reason Wendell glanced up and down the street before cutting across it to run into the back alleyway that led around the corner to where he could go into the tavern through the back. He dug around in his pocket for the key, and upon finding it, pushed it into the lock and opened the door faster than he ever had, or probably ever would again.

The door was locked behind him and finding himself in the kitchen, Wendell kept his weapon handy, slowly making his way around the building to see if the coast was clear. There was no one at the bar, or in any of the function rooms, so he ventured upstairs to see if any of the other staff had made it into work safely. When he found the guest rooms empty as well, Wendell made sure all the windows, curtains, and doors were closed, so that any lingering shadows wouldn't spot him and find a way in.

It had been a strange few days, and Wendell hoped this was the last of it.

[Rei]

It wasn’t long before Rei’s hands were coated with warm blood. It was a stark contrast to the coldness of the shadow creature she had struck on the way to their home. The man was still groaning in pain, but his eyes were getting lazy and his gaze seemed the glaze over. His mind, she concluded, must have been growing dark and faint from the pain. Soon he would lose his consciousness and he wouldn’t feel the sting of his wounds until he awoke. Rei only hoped it was soon, because stitching the skin on his forehead would be much more painful than his arms. There were so many nerves in the face.

Rei’s lips creased in a tight frown as she ran the hooked needle through flesh again, pulling it taught so that the edges of the flesh pulled together and greatly slowed the gentle flow of blood that was still seeping from the wound. Finally, the elder man’s mind gave in to the pain, his eyes rolling back in his head as his lids fluttered closed and his breathing slowed. The wife’s face contorted in fright. “There’s no need to worry. He is unconscious from his pain. He will be fine. I promise.” She was very practiced in remaining calm in stressful situations.

When the arm had been sutured up properly, she snapped off the thread and ran an antiseptic-soaked cloth over it one last time to clean it before wrapping a pressure bandage tightly around his arm to stem what little blood flow remained after stitching the flesh. Blood coated fingers wiped clean the needle with a cloth and started on the cut on his forehead. She had to be careful that the sutures did not string too deeply into his face. Since she had the time, the shadows occupied by the booming of thunder and crashing of lightning, she double stitched it to be sure it would hold. She repeated the cleaning process and wrapped a bandage around his forehead.

She cleaned her hand off and packed up her supplies. Rei would have left some pain powder with them, but she couldn’t find it in her bag. She must have left it at the clinic. “As soon as you are able, get him some psinia shield powder or something similar for his pain. You can mix it in tea or whatever he likes to drink.”

The wife stood as Rei did and threw her arms about her. “Thank you, you are an angel.”

Rei could only smile and give the woman a few reassuring pats on the back. “I’m just doing my job. Be sure he keeps those clean. If he has trouble bring him to the Infirmary.”

One of the children who had been watching through the cracks in the wood over the window looked over. “The Knights have got the streets clear.”

“I better make a run for it. You all stay inside.” She slipped out the door and heard the lock click behind her and the scratch of the chair as it was wedged back against the door. With the streets clear, Rei took off in a run and didn’t stop until she was back at the Infirmary, taking in gulps of air.

[Muse]

Your review is ready!

There is so much going on in this thread with a lot of other PCs whose writing I enjoyed, and I'm sad that I don't see their faces any more. Patrick always surprises me when he takes charge of situations, probably because he can also be so devious. There's this drive underneath all the humor and alcohol that I enjoy immensely.

Patrick

Points

XP:
15 | These points cannot be used for magic.

Fame:
+5 Event Participation

Loot

N/A

Injuries + Overstepping

N/A

Knowledge

Skill Knowledge:
Leadership: Shepherding Others to Safety
Weapon (Broadsword): The Weight of a Broadsword
Weapon (Broadsword): Basic Strikes
Weapon (Broadsword): Angled Strikes
Weapon (Broadsword): Better Suited For One Hand
Weapon (Broadsword): Footwork is Important

Other Knowledge:
Personal: Facing Uncertain Death
N/A

Everyone Else

Points

XP:
15 | These points cannot be used for magic.

Fame:
N/A

Loot

N/A

Injuries + Overstepping

N/A

Knowledge

Skill Knowledge:
N/A

Other Knowledge:
N/A

If you've got a question or concern or if I've missed anything, don't hesitate to PM me!

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Muse

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