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Post by Vincent on May 22, 2017 5:51:24 GMT -6
"Three years," Vincent mused to himself in the mirror. He examined closely the scruff on his chin and gave it a light rub. Yeah, it certainly grew in quite nicely did it not? His hair was longer too come to think of it, but certainly not like his ponytail days. He let off a soft chuckle. He wa such a scared boy then, amazing what a little time will do to you. Well, that and countless life and death struggles.
He stepped back to allow himself to look over his entire garb. These were the clothes for a hero, not just an average mercenary. His old clothes were ragged now, and had a steady enough workflow to afford niceties. He traded in his youthful headband for a newer and larger bandana. People continued to mistake it for a headband though since his hair was still visible. He retained his mercenary in blue look but his tunic was nicer and a bit longer. His belt replaced by a sash and he had grieves. Come to think of it, the greatest changes would be his breastplate and cape. It felt good to have a cape again.
It was also his birthday, 21 years on this world and he was sill just as alive as ever. "Small miracles." Today, he decided to leave Phoenix Claw behind. The same with the rope on his Gargoyle Tusk dagger. He was beginning to make adjustments to his gear. The rope had been useful at times but it was more of an annoyance than anything at this point and Phoenix Claw had seen better days. Though in truth his style was beginning to shift towards a single blade. The greater the bond with Phoenix Heart the more his secondary sword felt unnecessary, and in short he was skilled enough to parry a lancer's lance. Though he refitted his dagger to serve the same function.
Enough vanity. Vincent grabbed Phoenix Heart from the corner of his room and began to descend into the inn's tavern. It was an important day and not because of his birthday, he had a job, and he was made to lead it. The scouts were still drawing up the map to find the enemy's camp so he had time for this. As he left the inn he could see a few glances in his direction. His gear was beginning to draw attention now, and from the perspective of building a reputation it felt real good.
Outside the tavern he crossed his arms and waited for the other mercenaries to show up for the job. With the popularity of guilds ever on the rise Vincent knew he needed to start recruiting as well, and so he advertised himself as being a member of the Phoenix Brigade guild. No one needed to know he was the sole member, founder, and leader as well.
To pass the time he reviewed the work request. He smiled as he was drawn into more nostalgia, when he began his journey he could not read or write. He still struggled to keep consistent in his spelling sure, but he could take jobs and write Mila just fine. The request was to investigate an old Marquess' grave. Apparently revenants were seen in the area and rumors of something bigger with four arms and talon-like claws. At this point the hero was inclined to believe any rumors he heard, what after fighting giant spiders, mutant dogs, a cyclops, walking skeletons, gargoyles, and even living darkness itself. Yup, what is a mutant corpse anymore?
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Garrett
Cavalier
To fight without cause is one thing, fighting with a cause is another, I fight for a cause.
Posts: 24
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Fargus
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Post by Garrett on May 26, 2017 9:37:19 GMT -6
Garrett rode on Krystal as they neared the town. It felt good that he was able to reunite with the Priest back around Cornwell and catch up on what happened to each other. He took out the card he was given again and looked at it. "The Oak knows it is an Oak...I still wonder what other meaning that has, but I'm certain I'll figure it out in time" he said as he brushed Krystal on her mane.
He spotted the town up ahead as he made Krystal slow to a stop. This was his first time traveling to Pherae, so he didn't know what to expect. Garrett made Krystal walk again as they entered the town. "Alright girl, lets stop by the tavern first and see what we need to-" Garrett then paused as he saw what looked to be yet another familiar face standing by the tavern. "Wow...this world really is small isn't it?" he said to himself. He got off Krystal as he made his way over to the Hero. "Well, it certainly has been awhile hasn't it?" Garrett said as he approached the Hero. Krystal followed behind and made a snort behind Garrett since she recognized the Hero as the one who defeated the Wight that threatened her, Garrett, and the knight back in Cornwell. "Though I have to wonder, what might you be here for? Perhaps I can help with whatever it is that you need help with if you need it?" Garrett asked. After all, he did sorta owe his life to the Hero. If it wasn't for him, Garrett and Krystal might have joined the rest of his village and his parents earlier than what he would liked to...
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Post by Vincent on May 27, 2017 19:53:01 GMT -6
The minutes began to tick and the sun was out without the shade of clouds today. The beating heat of it began to wear thin Vincent's good natured humor at the lack of others taking up the job. Where were the mercenaries out to make money with the monster hunting actions? Where were the mercenaries looking for a fat purse to clear out the tomb of a Marquees. Surely they had realized by now that they would have a good payday straight from the lords that wished respect to their ancestral lords? Ah well, they less that came along the more he could go wild against his foes, even if it did mean more danger to contend with.
As he was preparing to call it a day and head out a man approached him. It was the rider from the battle with the Wight. "Small world indeed." He agreed. "Fancy seeing you here." Vincent owed the rider his life. If not for he and the knight Vincent would have drowned in the mire that day. Made for a very good site. "Its only been what? A month or two?" He thought, time was loosing effect on him, well, aside from age, but he was still incredibly young.
Not even aware of why he was standing out in the sun just outside of a tavern the rider was offering up his services to him. Vincent smirked and suddenly began to laugh. "You're something else, but you're a good guy! Tell you what, clearly you don't know what is going on. But, allow me to buy you a drink and I will run over the job details with you, and as an additional thanks for everything you did back with the wight we can split the pay, 60/40, in your favor?" He offered. As a mercenary this was enough to settle any 'life debts' just short of incurring another in the oncoming mission.
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Garrett
Cavalier
To fight without cause is one thing, fighting with a cause is another, I fight for a cause.
Posts: 24
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Fargus
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Post by Garrett on Jun 14, 2017 22:33:27 GMT -6
Garrett nodded. It's indeed been about a month or so since their encounter protecting the town from the bonewalkers and wights. Not to mention, it helped expand his knowledge on what truly is happening on the continent! "Indeed it has. I would be honored to work beside you again" he said. Krystal snorted again behind Garrett. Garrett only rubbed her on the head as he continued to chat with the Hero. Just the fact that he was working with another acquaintance was quite thrilling for him. The fact he got a good deal out of it was a bonus, though he felt that it wasn't necessary, but he decided to roll with it.
As Garrett followed the Hero, he could only wonder what this job was that they were taking. "So, what exactly are we planning on doing?" he said. He certainly has some experiences under his belt, especially in dealing with monsters since the only thing that he fought so far was almost nothing but monsters. First, the bonewalkers and Wight with the Hero, and then a few weeks ago, he barely managed to escape with his life along with Aura! Maybe I should consider becoming a monster hunter in my spare time? Though I suspect that it'll take more than that Garrett thought. Though in the end, his real mission was to avenge his fallen village from those bandits that tragic day. He could barely get by a day without having regrets of that tragic day. He swore that it would never happen again, but first, to help with what matter the Hero needs help with.
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Post by Vincent on Jun 14, 2017 22:59:26 GMT -6
As Vincent ushered Garrett back inside the Tavern he called out to the barman, "Two pints!" As he sat he gestured to a seat for Garrett. He looked the cavalier over. He had a new lance, that was good, and he seemed to be in as good of shape now as last they met. No, scratch that, better, they were rather roughed up that last time.
"Alright, so here is the deal." Vincent passed the rider a parchment of paper that detailed the mission and a rough image depicting a four armed man. "There is a tomb near here that was dedicated to one of the old marques. They say he was a great man and a lord that allowed the region to prosper greatly. So, when they started talking about seeing the marques and his family walking around at night you can guess that raised some alarms and speculation.
Despite the increase in monsters there are those that refuse to believe it is anything more than someone getting spooked, but considering there are multiple reports of these sightings from reliable and trustworthy individuals the local lords that keep the tomb in their territory have decided on recruiting someone to look into it. This is where we come in. Our part will be to stay over night and find out what it is that is scaring everyone. ANNNNND if there really are monsters, or the dead walking, our further job will then be to take them out."
As the pints got to the table Vincent payed and began to drink on his. "From the looks of it, I believe there are a few revenants and an Entombed. And an Entombed with four arms and claws must have been doused by nether deeply to be that horrifically altered, so I expect its dangerous in the extreme."
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Post by Duma on Jun 19, 2017 19:10:00 GMT -6
Duma woke up early and went about his business. He arrived in Pheare with Vincent shortly after their adventure with the two mages. And upon their arrival, he learned that the was a small problem with the undead. Supposed sightings of the long dead Marquess and his family. Eturia has had a sudden rise in undead lately. Ever since Osita the whole continent had gone to hell and back. Perhaps if he were a scholarly man, he'd dedicate his life to figuring out why that is. But, he wasn't a scholar, he was a swordsman. A swordsman who knew his place in the world. And that place was among the people lending his blade to defend those who couldn't defend themselves.
But, something had been bugging him the moment he set foot upon this place. Like he had been here before but couldn't remember it. The scholars called it Deja Vu but he called it an annoyance. He really wanted to know why he felt like he knew this place. Maybe he had been here once during his travels. Duma shrugged lightly and went about his day. He took the opportunity to head into the market to restock his supplies. He bought a new whetstone for his blades and did some light repairs on his boots. His guards would need a touch up at the smithy but he did not have enough gold for the repairs. At least not yet, he hoped that this job would pay well enough to round out the rest of his repairs. The swordsman returned to the tavern and took a seat next to Vincent.
"Managed to get an extra vulnerary and some bandages. And a flash bang thing. The apothecary threw it in as a bonus. Fixed the hole in my boot too."
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Post by Vincent on Jun 22, 2017 10:15:43 GMT -6
As Vincent was wrapping up his brief overview the tall mullet man suddenly arrived to loom over their table. "Ah, glad you could make it. Sounds like you had a productive morning." A part of Vincent wanted to be annoyed and huffy, to try and make a point of punctuality but honestly he was entirely unbothered by it. And a vulnerary and bandages were always a blessing. With Duma's gear that would bring them up to an elixer, a vulnerary, and two sets of bandages.
"If things do end up getting crazy out there I think we should be good to go." The hero commented showing his own medicinal jar. In a way he felt like he was showing off and him feel guilty. Ever since he restastioned himself out of Cornwell the workflow had been magnificent and he could afford the nicer things. But here Garrett had only just gotten a new lance and Duma was having to get his shoes repaired. Not that Vincent never did but in the context of the moment it felt wrong.
"A flash bang thing?" This time Vincent actually had no idea what the man was referring to. What was a flash bang thing? "Is it, like a mine or something?" He knew what a mine was, and he suspected Duma would too.
When the talks came back around to business Vincent added. "The grave is not far from here, so we have the time to set up any sort of traps or lookouts we need before night falls."
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Post by Duma on Jul 17, 2017 20:07:53 GMT -6
"Something like a mine. Apparently, I am to squeeze the bag to break the contents. Then throw it. The bag then explodes into a burst of light that will momentarily blind anyone that looks right at it." He spoke as if he was reading it off of a note card. Duma wanted to know what the contents of the bag were. When he picked it up he felt a vial of some kind as well as some sort of thing that felt like sand.
"Figured we could use it in case we need to make a quick exit. Or create an opportunity for ourselves." Duma nodded softly as he waved his hand. He wanted to signal the waitress to bring him a drink. Duma ordered a mug of juice diluted with water. For some reason, the swordsman was craving some sort of sweet thing. He plopped what remained of his gold on the table and found that he had enough to pay for bread too. He ordered a roll. The roll was warmed up slightly in the fires of the oven and served to him with a tiny side of butter. Duma cracked open the bread down the center and slabbed his bit of butter in the middle and ate the roll. The warmed roll tasted really good or it might have been due to the fact that Duma was actually pretty hungry. It was in the middle of his pious meal that he realized that there was another one with them at the table. Vincent did mention he had recruited one other person in the span of time that they had been there. This must be the guy.
"Sorry I didn't introduce myself. I'm Duma. Wandering sword for hire."
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Post by Vincent on Aug 2, 2017 14:39:56 GMT -6
[Since Garrett appears out I am going to save us a headache and push past the tavern dialogue]
"Huh," he was interested in the item, sure, but he could not come up with more to comment on it than that. That and, "Well, make sure to warn us if you use it!" Vincent chuckled, last thing he wanted was to suddenly go blind. Bad times that. The discussion lasted through the meal as they made sure everyone understood their mission. The short of it being that they needed to take out a potential monster, maybe more.
The road to the grave site was smooth travels overall but the closer they came the more the trees seemed to sway in the breeze; their canopies shrouding the road in shadows, and a chill setting in the air. The young hero watched as each breath visibly escaped his lips. It was not as though he had never felt the cold before, he worked out of Ilia in the past after all, but the way the sudden chill onset worried him. "This cold in the middle of the hot season?" Less an observation and more a comment to get the others thinking.
The old Marques' grave was not quite what was described and expected, but rather it was a full graveyard with a great tomb sitting at the heart of it. The stone structure rose high above even the trees with the figure of an angel at the peak of its height, but all around the base were statues of weeping demons. "Pleasant place." He snarked. The outer gate was unlatched allowing easy entry for the party. Turning back to his allies, "Alright! We just camping out or do we go exploring?" He gestured to the tomb with a thumb.
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Post by Duma on Aug 2, 2017 20:45:22 GMT -6
With the pleasantries and meal over it was back to business as usual. Duma had every intention of using his new flash bang at some point during the mission and knew to yell out when he was going to use it. He just hoped that this particular mission would be a relatively simple one. Go to the tomb and take out some wandering undead. Right? Simple. At least that's how it sounded, but the experienced swordsman knew better. He knew jobs were never as simple as words made them out to be. And he expected this mission to be no different. He prepared himself for the worst with what little he had left.
The march to the tomb was fair. He actually took a moment to admire the plant life on the way over towards the tomb. He identified a few flowers that he once read in a book. Nearly got stung by a bee in the process. And let a large green damsel fly hitch a ride on his shoulder before they hit the sudden cold snap. The bug that had accompanied him took off in a fervour once they hit the point of cold. And Duma did not like that. He noticed how the grasses around this section of the tomb were starting to yellow and crinkle.
"The air is different here." Good job, captain obvious. Duma shook his head. He sighed and started to prepare himself for what was ahead. He fastened the buttons on his clothes and tucked in any excess cloth into his boots. His gut was telling him to prepare for the fight ahead.
"It's tainted with dark magic." He shook his head again. Long dormant memories started to surface in his mind after he said that. Memories of his Druid uncle. His drinking binges. And the scent of his magic that lingered in the air after he cast. It was different than the dark magic his father cast. But, then again his father did not prefer the dark arts like his brother. Though this scent in the air was less like one of his memories, it lacked the wonderful after smell of uncle's wine and the sounds of his cursing for whenever he missed his target. As Vincent remarked on the scenery, Duma felt a sudden chill crawl up his spine. He then glanced up at one of the stone gargoyles and spoke out loud.
"What sort of horror makes gargoyles weep?"
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Post by Vincent on Aug 6, 2017 22:04:23 GMT -6
"What sort of horror makes gargoyles weep?" Duma voiced.
Vincent gave the question a moment for an honest consideration. About a year or two ago he would have easily made some light jokes about his employers' rage but these days the lighthearted tone was far from his tongue. He had faced off with living gargoyles who served a monster such as Hargus after all. What indeed would make a gargoyle weep? Unlatching his scabbard and blade from his back he tossed it against the stone of a grave's monument. "Hell if I know what makes a demon cry. Maybe the laughter of children or voice of god?"
God... was there really such a thing? Was there ever such a thing? The servants of Elimine believe in Elimine as a divine figure and the Sacaeans have their own Mother Gaia. But where were their miracles? The world was being consumed not by monsters alone, but by mankind and their hubris that allowed the rise of such horrendous beasts. Well, if there is a god, or gods he would love for them to come along and show themselves sometime soon, he had some choice words for them.
Returning to the comment about the dark taint that lingered over the graves Vincent added, "As you said, this place is bathed in it. Neither of us wield magic and even we can tell... something is here alright." His face grew dour as he felt the winds blow out from the tomb. The air was foul and carried whispers of something more. The young hero paused, shutting his eyes in a sudden feeling of exhaustion. Scooping up his blade he held the scabbard with one hand and the hilt ready to draw with the other. "I guess that is the cue to enter into the pits of Hell." He glanced back to his companions to ensure they were ready too.
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Post by Duma on Aug 9, 2017 19:10:51 GMT -6
The swordsman was never much on god or gods. The Saceans taught him of mother earth and father sky and that made more sense to him than Etruria's worship of a singular dead woman. Even though some of the stories the Saceans had of Mother Earth and Father sky made no sense, he understood that religions were the means for the people to make sense of the unknown. To teach the next generation the laws of the land and the stories of their people. And he could respect those who worshiped, but he couldn't respect those who were intolerant of other's worship. Duma snerked a bit at Vincent's comment. He could see it in his head, the laughter of children being the greatest weakness of the gargoyles. Something that they are so disgusted at that they must shield their eyes against something that is heard. He shook his head and turned around. Decore aside this place looked like a standard graveyard. Duma took a moment to look at the giant mausoleum that housed the former noble and other dead things.
Something else was in the air. Something that made him feel cold. And while coldness was one of the more natural reactions to Nether exposure, he felt something DIFFERENT with this cold. It was pulsating. And it caused the little hairs on his arms to stick up and give him goosebumps.
"Ugh." He groaned a bit before rubbing his arms. The friction made him feel a little better but he still didn't like where this was going. Then it hit him. Mila. Mila.. she was exploring an ancient ruin.. when it fell. That ruin became her tomb... and he.. never really got over her loss. He shook his head. No. Don't get sentimental now. We must focus. Lives are at stake.
He took a deep breath in. The air of the now opened tomb smelled sort of like a mix between a cellar's smell, a dead rat smell, and rotten fruit. The swordsman let out a sigh and readied a torch.
"We're going to need this." He spoke then followed Vincent down into the bowels of the earth.
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Post by Vincent on Aug 9, 2017 19:47:50 GMT -6
Laying eyes on the torch Vincent nodded, "Good call on that one." The air that came spilling forth from the tomb was a wretched stench. The steps were of old but well crafted stone. They were wet with ages of rainwater that never quite dried and the chill created condensation along the web covered walls. "Watch your step in here, it seems slick."
Vincent had thought to use his sword to light the way but having Duma bring the torch was a much better idea. The two descended easily 200 winding steps before reaching a wooden door at the bottom. It was covered in scratch marks and ripped open in places. The jagged shards were covered by still wet blood. Vincent found himself hesitating to go forward still. Who else has gone down here that they were not informed of and just what terrible fate were they subjected to as a result?
"Duma? Do you see this?" He addressed the blood. It may just be too late to turn back but the feeling of distress was strong for him. Stepping back from the door he could read the words carved into the archway: 'Beyond these walls lies the realms of the dead, may the living never tread here or be lost into the abyss of the beyond.' Cheery.
Just beyond the door could be heard the low moans of the undead, revenants, walking and still living corpses. "They're here alright..." Turning his back to the door Vincent focused on Duma. "Well, guess we're fighting something or ano- Gah!" Suddenly the arm, not of a revenant, but of the far more skeletal bonewalkers reached through a gab in the door grasping at Vincent's collar and trying to pull him back, slamming his back into the door. The blood red light of its hollow eyes could be seen from the otherside.
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Post by Duma on Aug 20, 2017 8:16:04 GMT -6
Down into the abyss we go. Duma mused to himself as he followed Vincent down into the crypt. As he descended he realized how much of a bad idea this was. Going into a small confined space, where all the monsters were. And they were two warriors whose weapons needed the open air to move. If their swords got stuck on the roof or the wall mid swing that could be disastrous for them. Half way down the decent he took a moment to realize how deep this went and how dark it was getting. The light of day was swallowed up by the darkness, along with the scent of fresh air. Down here the air was cool but stagnant. The swordsman quickly tied a cloth around his mouth and nose to keep himself from breathing in too much dust.
When they finally came to a stop at the bottom of the crypt, Duma used his torch to see. He found a long forgotten torch hanging on the wall and lit it. He found another torch holder along side it and slipped his torch in. Looks like the torches were a design choice to illuminate the entry and exit points of the tomb. Smart. It didn't do much to illuminate the darkened space but he felt that it was better than nothing. Duma could make out the trail of blood and the bodies the recently deceased.
"Either they were grave robbers or workers. Poor clods didn't deserve to die like that though." Duma sighed softly. Vincent spoke the words that were carved into the arch of the door.
"The Architect didn't waste his words." He spoke after the moans and groans of the undead filled the air. He gripped the handle of his sword and drew it out of its holster.
"Not sure how many there are.. but don't turn your ba.." Duma spoke casually until the door broke. The swordsman moved quickly and sliced off the hand of the skeleton that had Vincent in its grasp. The swordsman then shoved Vincent away from the door.
"Move towards the torch lights!"
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Post by Vincent on Aug 21, 2017 9:22:25 GMT -6
As the skeletal arm, that grasped at Vincent, was severed by Duma fell Vincent lunged forward and away from the doorway, fully supported by the full strength of Duma himself. Duma urged him to move towards the torchlight, and he would eagerly do so. "Blast!" Drawing his blade he aimed the tip at the doorway. "SEALS RELEASE!!!" As two of his blade's seals simultaneously broke the blade grew wild. Grasping the hilt with both hands the hero steadied the sword watching as the bonewalker and now several revenants ripped and tore at the wooden and iron reinforced doorway.
"I am going to clear the initial path, but I don't know just how much is beyond." The blue light shone brightly from the golden blade illuminating everything before being suppressed and concentrated back to the source. It was rare for Vincent to release more than a single seal, rarer still all at once. That level of finesse was still beyond him for now. But once he had control of the blade again he yelled for Duma to stay behind him, at least for now.
The monsters at the door managed to tear it apart at a frightening rate but once they had it open it was time to move. Releasing the power that had been allowed to build in the blade a large beam of hot blue light burst forth into the narrow doorway. The weaker monsters in the direct path were all but disintegrated and the others in close proximity were damaged and tossed. Duma never asked him to flee, so it was unspoken but clear they did not intend to run, at least not yet.
The blast merely singed the walls but it was also loud. For every creature it destroyed or harmed it was clear it alerted others. "We clear out this wave and then we can think about what to do next. Gets too bad we can still climb. Sound decent enough?"
No sooner did Vincent voice his idea did the damaged monsters come shambling in. Many had limbs missing and chunks of their bodies torn off but a few were still intact. Chief among them stood a revenant and bonewalker carrying... a whip? Well that is different.
A mass of bodies and bones were crawling toward the pair and over the bodies strode forth the two standing monsters. The bonewalker wasted little time lashing out at Duma's leg. The revenant however went for a full body tackle of Vincent. It made it easy to impale to monster but with Phoenix Heart's energy all but expended there would be little in the way of obliteration. Vincent staggered under the weight and struggled to keep his footing. Trying to free his blade was equally difficult as the rotting corpse tried to claw at him and bite him. And the mass of bodies was only drawing ever closer for his ankles.
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