Open Chronicles A Problem Plummets

[Thandren Kraise]

Small towns typically have their share of issues. Local disputes, the bored children making trouble, and maybe the occasional monster run-in. In the south of the Aberresai, this small town of bar'ouge however recently came upon a new problem, a tremor occurred which would be nothing out of the ordinary, however, just at the edge town it was discovered that the rumblings unveiled a pair of twin doors, and when they were opened, massive black hounds poured out assaulting the town followed by an animated ogre corpse. The incursion was quelled by the local guard and with the help of some capable passerby. Now a call has been put out and a meeting scheduled,

What is to be done about the new threat?
​

Standing over the smoldering corpse of a massive black dog was Thandren, his hand extended outwards, sweat beads dripping down his forehead and his matte black hair adhering to the skin. Crying echoed in the background an occasional order was shouted out by a guard, but it was just noise to the human. Thandren's head was spinning, where did this undead monstrosity hail from, some more orders were yelled out "Are they shut? For good?" "take the pyromancer too-" "Make sure those things aren't moving!"

Tuning back in the raven-haired man took a few steps back. The day was off to a strange start, he'd set out from his home of Annuakat several weeks beforehand, and needed to stop for supplies in this small town before heading to Alliria... It was supposed to be a quick. "You Mage, are you alright?"Looking off to the side, a man clad in guards gear approaced, thandren cleared his throat and nodded "Yes, I'm fine thanks for the concern." Taking a few more steps he raised his hand and cleared the soot and bruises from his skin with a wave, looking to the double doors that were being barricaded with carts. "that won't last... follow me please."

Thandren gave a nod and picked up his ruck, the two made their way towards a larger building in the center of town, citizens looking on in horror as from under the dead body of the massive decayed ogre, men were pulling out a guard who'd been crushed by the creature, a bit further past the building another Knight was removing his sword from the second of the multiple black dogs. Inside however it was pure chaos, people crying, others shouting about what should be done. "We should blow up the rocks and reseal it!" "No that will never work, you need to send the guard down." "What will the guard do? My son was a guard, he and his friend were just slaughtered by one of the dogs!" "Please calm down everyone we've already sent word, sellsword's who're capable will settle this debacle- ahh speaking of capable, this must be the man who defeated one of the hounds, we're ever grateful for the assistance and you shall be rewarded" A man sat at the end of a massive hall. He had grey hair, wrinkled skin, and a warm smile. standing as the guard escorted the Mage inside "I'm Verick the mayor, may I ask your name?"

The commotion settled as the elder motioned to the raven-haired man "Thandren..." the room focused on him momentarily "Thank you son, though it seems we have a much larger problem on the rise, this is now a threat to everyone here, would you be interested in helping with the endeavor?"
Honestly no, he wanted to get to Alliria, however, the more he thought about it, the more interested he became, and he couldn't just leave these people to be slaughtered by whatever else came out. "I'd be willing to go but... this won't be something I can do alone or without fund-." "Coin will be provided, we'll put the word out. Though for now, until any others arrive, You have free lodging as part of our thanks." Thandren was then removed from the meeting room and taken to a working class Inn, several people were still sheltering inside wondering what else might emerge.

He looked around confused, the chain of events had happened so quickly that he barely had time to process it. The ogre and the multiple black dogs had rushed from the doors themselves, he'd been standing there as it rushed towards a woman, instead, he stepped in lighting the creature ablaze after a few minutes of running around. Now, he sat at a bar taking it all in, placing his face in his hands and muttering "Fantastic..."

Ashvyr Justinian​

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

Even before he saw it, he smelled it. Trotting along a roughly hewn path, Ashvyr Justinian stopped the horse as the stench hit him. Without a question, he knew it immediately – the reek of rotting corpses, of desiccated bodies, of death. The horse snorted as Justinian spurred it into a gallop, within a few seconds reaching the battlefield of fallen men and beasts. People were scattered about, shouting, issuing orders and commands. Others, women and children, were weeping at the terror and loss of a loved one. As Justinian surveyed the grisly scene, he spotted the closed gates, already blocked by flimsy carts and a felled pair of oxen. With a sinking feeling, he’d realized he’d come too late. Damn it!

“You there!” a guard called, voice hoarse and worn. “Have you come to help? Where are the others?”

He was already attracting attention. Though dressed in a Knight’s light armor and cape, his garb was not the uniform worn by those who fought to shield the town today. Removing his helm Justinian slid off his horse, seeing the guard’s disappointed observance of his youthful features. Ignoring it as best he could, he motioned to the barricaded gates. “I am not part of a legion,” he said apologetically. “What happened here?”

“We’re not sure,” the guard confessed. “Those gates appeared, and let loose these dogs you see, and that ogre…”

Admittedly, the guard was not too skilled a storyteller, but eventually managed to bring Justinian up to date as they walked among the slaughter and wreckage. Justinian carefully examined the slain hounds, the huge beasts nothing like he had ever seen before. The ogre, clearly dead before, was an even worse sight, its distorted face frozen in a skeletal snarl and reeking of decay. Despite the guard’s protest, Justinian strode as close as he could at the gates, looking up at the structures that had released the fiends.

The great, black doors were still for now as Justinian studied the surface for runes or signs, of which he saw none. He sighed, turning to find an elder approaching him.

“I am Verick, mayor of this town,” the man said, extending a hand with a tired smile. “We are glad to see you, Sir Knight.”

If only. Justinian shook it firmly. “Ashvyr Justinian. I am sorry I have come too late…”

“Alas, the gates appeared out of nowhere. Don’t apologize for what can’t be helped. We are planning an excursion, and we would be glad for your help, young man, for I see you carry a sword.”

I gave you my name. “I will gladly help. Are there others ready?”

“Ah, one, at least. A mage. You see that hound there? He set it ablaze, saving one of ours! A hero for sure. I sent him, Thandren I believe, to one of our finest inns. Look here,” Verick turned, motioning over the guard. “Kerrigan will show you the way, and we’ll take care of your horse.”

Kerrigan quickly led Justinian to the inn, a rather rundown building made for those of less wealth and standards. “He should be inside, Sir. Please excuse me, but I have other business to attend to.”

Clearly a hero’s lodging. Great. “Yes… excellent, thank you.”

Justinian stepped inside, immediately lost in the restless crowd. He looked around, seeing only desperate faces and anxious eyes.

“Thandren?” he not-quite-called.

 

[Thandren Kraise]

several minutes had gone by since the door was sealed the guard ushered everyone who was not capable of helping clear the streets into the buildings, inside the Inn Thandren stood over an orphan boy who'd wandered in with a scratched-up face and hands, the Mage whipping an alcohol covered rag around his face as the child sobbed "There we go, good as new! People pushed you over huh?"The boy nodded "Quite mean of them... here watch this."Thandren held the palm of his hand out, and a small knight appeared, the figure matching back and forth on Thandrens palm before saluting the boy and bursting into sparkles, the whimpers turned into a giggle.

Reaching back he picked up the spirit he'd be drinking, he'd wanted to examine the door, but waiting for others was probably a higher priority, a few people then came up and said thanks, then he heard his name called, Looking up from the spot he'd claimed Thandern eyed the light who'd walked in, clearly not part of the local guard. "Yeah, I'm thandren!" He raised his hand and stood ever so slightly "Can I help ye?"

He pulled out a stool for Ashvyr Justinian, he was glad there was already some help, but they'd need to rest before making the initial push into the dungeon, and Thandren wanted to do some investigation beforehand waiting to see who would show was also another big step in a positive direction.

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

Although the voices within the Inn were many, forming into quite a mess of noise, Justinian was experienced in picking out sounds. Words and certain syllables strung together were no exception to this skill. So as he heard the affirmation and name repeated, he turned in exactly the right direction, spotting Thandren already preparing a seat for him. That was easy, at least.

Justinian wove through the gaps in the crowd with surprising agility and ease, with light, and oddly silent steps belying even one of his leaner build and lighter gear. Swinging one leg over the stool he sat, tossing his cape over one shoulder before offering a smile at the mage the mayor spoke so highly of. Despite dropping the mage in a lower-class inn, of course. Well, it wasn’t some cow barn anyway.

Justinian had little personal rapport with mages, but he was sharply aware of what this one wore. Clothes that, while not overly fine or foppish, were still made with bits of silk and fine design. It was not the sort of clothes a poor man wore, and the clean-shaven chin and well-kept overall appearance told Justinian more about Thandren than another man might be aware of. And of course, there was that gleaming, elegant rapier with a fiery, silver phoenix as the handle. It was something Justinian thought he wanted himself.

But he wasn’t here for that sort of thing.

“Well met, Thandren, hero of Bar’ouge,” Justinian said lightly. “I am Ashvyr Justinian. What a time to come, eh?”

He raised a gauntleted hand for the overworked attention of a serving girl, who was more than aware that Thandren had saved her cousin from a hideous demon. She stumbled over with an extra drink for Thandren and, after a courteous exchange, returned again with a glass of hard cider. She plopped it down, batted her eyes at the mage, and scurried away.

I think she’s got the hots for you. “So do you always go around saving people, Master Thandren?”

 

[Thandren Kraise]

Thandren downed the last of what he was drinking while trying to numb out all the noise, once more looking at the man who approached he was clean, not like any typical merc who'd let their armor get to a bad state before being forced to perform maintenance, no this man was someone who realized the meaning of well-maintained gear, a rarity in their industry. Someone with a sword was always a welcome sight, especially since thandren mostly carried his as a warning before needing to turn someone into a pile of ash.


"A Pleasure Ser Justinian, I'm Thandren Kraise I can Imagine worse timing... but Hero of Bar'ouge? Hells that's not actually what they're-" He'd watch as the bar maiden gave him puppy eyes, he returned a dubious smile and a wink, before working his gaze back to Justinian with a smirk "Well... I can think of worse names." He downed the glass that was just brought to him and cleared his throat. This was good, getting to know your spelunking partner came with a whole number of pluses. "I try not to make a habit of it... but what can I say, I have a big heart, and Black Dogs aren't exactly a 'normal' occurrence even when it comes to the occult" He'd heard of the beasts before, they're a rare occurrence and not a pack animal.

"Honestly I wasn't planning on sticking around, I'm headed for Alliria and the sooner I get there the better, but.. those hounds, alone they're an omen of death, I can't imagine what pack signifies. So, let us say I'm here out of concern." He placed his fist against his chin tapping his foot against the bar stool "And what of you Ser? A Kight responding to the threat? Or a noble passerby wanting to help?"

 

[Maraad]

"Dead, you say?"

Maraad's yellow eyes befell the guard. The old grizzled man didn't wilt under their intensity, and in a way, Maraad was thankful for it. The locals feared him. That much he knew. Women and children fled before him instinctively. Men? They gave him a wide berth.



"Aye sir. All of em. Even the ogre."

"Dammit! I was looking forward to this one."





The guardsman scratched his unruly beard, if one could even call the untamed nest of hair that it was, and shrugged.
"Nothing I can do will change it. When the mage approached, he set them on flames."

He gave Maraad a dejected expression as he rubbed the bottom of his boot against the smoky ground.

"He burned a few of the hounds down to their bones. It's a wicked sorcery, I tell ya, but a damn useful one. Much quicker than your bare-knuckles."

Maraad's attractive features twisted into a contemptuous grimace as he frowned bitterly. His amusement had been stolen by something, or rather, by someone.


Even now, he could feel his hands getting twitchy. He wanted to pummel the creatures into a bloody mush, not incinerate them with blazing heat. That kind of magic was, as far as he was concerned, no fun and practically cheating at that.

Maraad snorted, his indigo-colored skin rippling with muscles. His four enormous arms fell limply to his sides. With his third eye, which was perched vertically above his brow, he evaluated the guardsman.

"Eh? Why the long face, Mr.? You weren't even going to get compensated for your work, really."

With an octave higher voice, Maraad responded, "If only it were about money!" He tightened his hands and turned away from the guardsman, displaying his broad back.

"Now, where is the mage? Has he left?"

"Nay. He didn't, in my opinion. He is most likely at the nearby tavern."

"Excellent."

"Why'd you ask?"

"I've got questions of my own and he'll answer them."


Maraad was already moving quickly in that direction, his long legs carrying him. The guardsman took off his helmet and muttered after waiting until the man was just a few meters away.


"What happens if he doesn't?"


Maraad paused for a few moment before partially turning his head to indicate that he had heard the hushed question.


But he never responded, continuing on until he was directly in front of the tavern. All things considered, it was a small location that didn't matter much to him.


Maraad was maybe two, maybe three heads taller than the deteriorating doorframe. It was obviously not intended for somebody particularly large, least of all Maraad.

He struck the wooden door three times with his fist, but not hard enough to yank the wooden planks out of their resting place. Instead, he caused the hinges to jangle and screech.


Thandren Kraise
Ashvyr Justinian

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

Remaining silent as Thandren Kraise spoke, Justinian swirled the drink in his glass. The ice chilling the cider clinked against the sides, a chime that couldn’t be heard above the commotion in the inn. He took a sip, enjoying the bitter taste of alcohol mingling with the sweet taste of apple and pear. As he set the glass down though, his eyes were dark and his brows furrowed with thought. No, he had never seen Black Dogs before now, but he had heard of them.

Omens of death indeed. What a wonderful day.

He looked at Thandren and smiled slightly, one eyebrow cocked. “Noble? Hardly.” Steel-clad fingers drummed against the table. “I ride where work is, milord. I have no real destination, but as a knight attached to no order, I seek places that may need my help, as inefficient as I may be,” he admitted dourly, smile fading. “Well, anyway, this place looks like it needs any help it can get. And if you’ll have me, I can aid you in the excursion they plan to make.”

He took another sip of the glass, and was about to drill Thandren what he knew about the occult when the door of the inn shook. The hinges screeched as the wood shuddered as a crack ran through the planks. One patron nearest the doorway screamed, and the entire inn fell deathly silent.

Justinian leaped to his feet, hand upon the handle of his sword as the head of the inn, a young responsible man of sterner stuff than most, approached the abused door and slowly opened it, revealing a rather disturbing creature of four arms, multiple eyes, and bluish skin. Dismayed whispers and frightened weeping swept through the room.

“My gods!” the innkeeper gasped. He gulped, stammering, “C-can I help you… uh… sir?”

 

[Thandren Kraise]

He ordered another glass of "Red mark please!" giving the barmaid a wink and setting extra gold on the table. It was clear he was playing the long con with her as afternoon was passing. Thandren then looked to Justinian and nodded along with his side of the story, and sure he denied the "Noble" part, but to thandren, his explanation was as noble as they got. "Well, ye have a good heart after all, anyone could tell from that story ye clearly want to help." his glass of spirits was placed on the table, it was dark black as it bounced around in the glass, he was almost looking at it more than he was drinking it. " Course I'll take ye. Already told the mayor I can't go down there on me own, that'd be a death sentence."

The door began to pound in though he didn't think much turning back towards the barmaid, and once the door opened it seemed Thandren was probably the only one in the room who didn't turn to look. No instead while Justinian gripped his sword, Thandren made a boutique of flowers from nothing the scent of fresh grass accompanying the Illusion. "Ya know I can show ye more tonight if you're interested, you know what room I'll be in" Thandren's dubious smile disappeared as he watched the barmaid look towards the door like she'd seen a ghost, the hulking figure filling out the doorway like someone had colored outside the lines.

Thandren raised his glass making an assumption "Oi Mate! Ye here to go diving through them doors with us?"
He pointed at himself "I'm Thandren Kraise, most would call me a Mage" then his finger drifted to the Knight "Ser Justinian, he uhh, has a sword?" Now that thandren mentioned it they'd still have to go over their specialties in the morning before actually making the dive into the hulking iron doors that were embedded into the ground.

Ashvyr Justinian
Maraad

 

[Maraad]

Maraad's hands held onto the edges of the doorframe while his arms snagged their way inside. Slowly but gradually, his large frame managed to fit through the little opening.

Maraad proceeded with caution because he was far too tall for this area. As a result, when he first entered, he almost hit his head on the low ceiling.
His eyes swept the room as his head swung around, finally settling on the terrified innkeeper.

All three of the golden eyes were burning with a terrifying intensity. One of them was resting on his brow, and it appeared to be moving on its own, as if it belonged to a chameleon.

Maraad chuckled at the man's lackluster response. His mouth's corners forced his lips into a wide, toothy grin that nearly split his face in half.

"What's wrong? Never seen a Kha'atari?" he inquired mockingly, bearing his fangs, of which he had four in total. Two in the upper jaw and two more in the lower. They were strangely humanlike but upscaled to match Maraad's impressive proportions.

Despite his size, he strode fluidly and deliberately, like a wildcat. His four arms moved with the exaggerated swagger of a man who was all too confident in his abilities.

None dared to stop him. They cleared out of his way as he shoved aside men and furniture alike.


"So it was you," he muttered cryptically, alluding to none other than the mage himself, Thandren.

"You are the one who deprived me of my entertainment by killing those blasted hounds!"


Maraad looked at the mage closely while he crossed all four of his arms, a glint of contempt in his eyes. He was not at all pleased that someone had arrived first at a quarry that he believed should have been his.

If it turned out that there were no more monsters for him to hunt in the region, he made the decision to strangle the mage and perhaps the other man as well.

"The hounds were mine to kill, but they are no longer alive. You've already killed them all, and you've gone one step further by burning their remains. They are all burnt and covered with soot now so I can't even use their skulls as trophies."

"So, am I just expected to sit here and do nothing now?"

Thandren Kraise
Ashvyr Justinian

 

[Thandren Kraise]

Thandren was almost taken aback by the creature, then again he was such an inquisitive person it really didn't matter. It was in fact his first time seeing a Kha' atari his bordering fascination soon turned to wariness.

"Sorry? I wasn't exactly going to stand around and let people be slaughtered, besides it was only one or two- The guard is to thank for the other pups and that putrid ogre on the main street."

Thandren stood, not nearly reaching his height, but he didn't care. Thandrens gaze shot upward towards his eyes. He wasn't about to start a second problem when only the gods could predict what could come from those doors, if Black Dogs weren't bad enough the undead ogre was definitely a bad sign, after all, corpses don't simply reanimate without a source of necromancy or some other form of negative energy.

"Yours to kill? Please don't let your pride bite you in the arse, you may be strong but Black Dogs need to be cremated so does that ogre out in the square. Personally, I would have loved to see how long you could knock down drag out with the pups however it wouldn't be very effective without a torch"

Thandren, of course, was speaking bull shit, the dogs probably didn't need to be cremated however with what he knew, most things affected by necromancy died just a bit faster with the touch of flame. Thandren taking a half step bac, incase a fight really was the only thing this man had in mind, though if push came to shove the raven haired man could easily enough distract the brute... he hoped.


"Mate, I don a care what you do next, long as it involves my prestine face staying the way it is."
There were to many people huddled in the bar to cast a spell, and he didn't have much room to manever either, then it came to him "Well, actually if yer lookin to throw down, My friend Justinian and I are planning ta go through them big iron doors protruding from the rocks. Thats where them pups came from after all, bound to be something else down there worth punching aye?"


Ashvyr Justinian
Maraad

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

Without moving his head, Justinian glanced around with his peripheral vision. There were many other people in the bar, but as far as he could see only Thandren and himself were marked fighters who might be able to deal with this angry brute.

Hand tight around the handle of his sword, Justinian cautiously watched Thandren and the Kha’atari. His mind and body automatically went through the motions when readying for a fight, checking off every box – analysis of enemy, weapon ready, stance chosen, first move prepared and so on. Thandren might think he was only a man with a sword and little else, but the sword was only a simple tool. The rest fell to the man himself… and there was more to the man then flesh and blood.

Swallow’s Dance. The beast is too large to take head on, Justinian thought grimly. I’ll have to judge his speed and act accordingly. I’ll need to draw him outside for full range of motion.. Damn! If only there weren’t so many people here…

Thandren was impressive with his speech and diplomatic manner, though he made a slight error. There had been a few corpses of hell hounds clearly not dealt with by fire. Any man not blind would see that cremation was, if not already used and necessary now, was probably not a necessity at all. If it was, the mage would already be called on to aid.

Yet, the brute seemed a simple-minded fellow, and Justinian wondered if the monstrous figure had too much of a brain. Of course, assuming the creature didn’t would be a grave error, so Justinian kept his hand on his sword as he mentally checked his body’s condition. No injuries or handicaps. Good. His hand tightened around his sword, fully prepared.

As Thandren finished speaking Justinian cocked his head forward in a false show of respect to the beast. “You may either attempt to kill me and my friend and take our skulls… sir, but I’d think you’d be far more pleased with the trophies we would find beyond the gates,” he finished smoothly.

Don’t make me fuck you up here.

 

[Maraad]

He gazed upon Justinian with a dour expression. Maraad's eyes locked on the delicate-looking sword. Maraad assessed the weapon and, with a shrug, dismissed it as something thoroughly unimpressive.

"You insult me by pulling out an unenchanted blade," he commented brusquely.

"Plus, I don't parley with children and half-men."

Maraad's keen eyes discerned a particularly amusing pattern in how Justinian held himself. The knight was stiff, but not the kind of stiffness entailed by tense muscles alone. No, this was something else entirely.

Faint twitching of the eyes betrayed Justinian's gingerly gaze.

Maraad smiled nastily, suspecting what was afoot.

Civilian casualties.

He then turned to face the mage. Maraad found Thandren a tad more interesting than the knightly fella. Was it because Thandren could wield magic and Justinian couldn't? Perhaps, but it was too early to tell.

"You, mage. We are going to make a deal."

"It goes something like this: I'll follow you through the gates and, if what I see satisfies me, help you."

"If you happen to disappoint me, then, well..."

He stuck out one of his pointer fingers and swept it over the distressed crowd.

"I'll turn this place into a graveyard. Just to spite you."