Open Chronicles Beyond the Wall

A roleplay open for anyone to join
A keen set of eyes would recognize a set of very human foot prints already up ahead— converging onto the trail of blood some yards up and following it unwaveringly.

There was little information to be gained from the tracks spare that they were made by boots of average size with a worn-down sole. The wearer had made no attempt to mask their movements.

Ana did not expect company.

In fact she had been so focused on her task that the careful approach of boots from behind almost escaped her notice. She stood up sharply from the bush, her gold hair the only thing to not blend into the backdrop (though even that she had tried to braid out of sight).

She wore simple leathers over sturdy materials. The crest of a Templar group was emblazoned on a cloak that was tossed haphazardly over her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

The Templars were once renowned— the reigning military force for magical ’issues’ across most of the continent. Their time had ended well over a millennia ago, the power house disintegrating into fractions that over the years crumbled and faded out.

She was all but a dying race.

And they hated people muddling in their affairs.
 
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The knight, dull armor flecked with dirt and gambeson stained dark by blood, stopped. Pale eyes, so milky as to give the impression of blindness, settled briefly onto her before roaming the treeline. He didn't recognize her crest - or, rather, he did? He couldn't place it, though.

But, the fact it tickled his memory at all was an improvement over the others he'd been traveling with.

"Killing ghouls." He replies in a gruff baritone, his muffled voice like a hacksaw going at a rotten stump. "Why are you in my swamp?"

While they were a bit above the marshlands now, this entire region was Blackwood. The Watch claimed this territory but then again, that didn't mean someone else hadn't too. When monarchs were distant, it was the sword that staked the claim, not royal decree.


Sword clasped securely in one hand, he let the point hang towards the ground, not wanting her to think he was moments away from swinging at her specifically.
 
Ana’s brows pulled in. She gave Septimus a purposeful once over, searching for a sign of his identity.

“Last we were aware there was no recknoized owner for this territory.”

She bit her tongue for a moment, then added. “But if it is yours, you’ve done a poor job guarding it. The people of Bronir recruited me from my travels. Apparently this issue has made the roads here unsafe for them, so they asked me to deal with it.” While her words might have hinted at cockiness, her tone did not.

She relaxed from her tense posture, looking over her shoulder and to the caves she believed they would be found in.

“You can go back, I will handle this.” Once more, there was a genuine offer behind the words— an attempt to protect, not dismiss.
 
His eyes flickered across their surroundings again, though the first cave he saw was misleading. Realizing there were more up the slope above them, he decided that this was the barrow he'd been looking for, and that they were likely both one loud word away from being beset by ghouls of some, indiscernible shape.

"They knew what they were doing when they went beyond the Wall." These lands had been ravaged by a lich some years past, and it'd never fully recovered. But people still took the chance, even if it was just out of pride in a family's former holdings going to ruin.

Misplaced pride, but pride nonetheless.

"But we'll excise this taint." He wasn't going anywhere - not a damn chance of it. He'd resolved to do this by himself, as he'd done plenty of times before, but she was the first person beyond the red haired woman who'd been polite but firm rather than dismissive or confrontational; himself included.
 
Anastasia gave a nod, her gaze skimming the others. Would they last? Her lips pressed into a thin line, saying nothing on it.

This did however mean she did not need to don her thickly platted armor. She dropped the straps she had been preparing, nudging them more effectively into the bush to keep them out of her way.

“Very well. Prepare yourselves then. And stay hushed. You don’t want them on your backs before you’re ready.”

Her attention slipped back to the man with the milky eyes, her tone remaining low. “I am Ana. And you are...?”
 
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She didn't need armor when he was wearing enough for two men. Or, at least, he often felt like he did. Padding and fur kept it from clanking too loudly, but if they weren't beset by now it was because they weren't home. That meant they would need to establish some kind of a defensive position.


Who was he? "Still breathing." He replies, as if tired of answering the same question over and over; though it wasn't quite the same one she'd asked.

"They aren't in the barrow, which means they're out hunting. Have you figured out which one of these is their entrance?"
 
Faerlin had let Septimus speak for her long enough. She’d dismounted, as the man had suggested, trusting Tempest to remain in place. The mount was too well-trained to wander off. Then, the other female warrior had ordered them back and the paladin had almost spoke out, but Septimus beat Faerlin to it. Since then, she’d been watching the exchange between the clover adorned knight and this templar woman without comment, though the paladin’s eyes were narrowed.

Still, when Ana, as she was apparently called, accepted their help, the paladin felt the tension within her transfer to a more appropriate target: the ghouls they were hunting. At the other woman’s question, however, the paladin finally spoke. ”Faerlin.” That’s all the templar needed to know. They were here to kill, not to chit-chat.

Unfortunately, the ghouls were nowhere to be found. Seeing as the others were far more skilled at tracking the monsters than Faerlin, she let them take point, simply following along behind, a silent and deadly shadow.
 
Ana moved forward, unfazed by their briskness. Saul could give them a run for their money in a monosyllable contest any day. Ana remained no less friendly for it.

“That one,” she answered, gesturing with her chin to the upper right. If they looked closely they could see the path that was being forged by the repetitive in and out the ghouls had been doing. It wasn’t an old den, but it certainly wasn’t new.

“I’ve been here since dawn. If they didn’t come back within the hour I was going to-“ a branch cracked in the distance. Ana’s head snapped towards the sound.
 
Had the templar looked to the rear, she would catch a big blur moving rapidly. It's form was more or less clear, but the details remained somewhat dimmed by the darkness and distance. Whatever or whoever it was, it seemed to have disappeared into the thick of the trees. What followed was a series of noises, the sound of claws hitting steel, choking, and finally the sound of bone shattering in the wind.

Then, silence once again...with the eeriness of it all settling back down on the atmosphere.

A moment later, the same large figure could be seen quickly rounding the corner of a tree, sliding down a slight slope before shoving his back against a tree. His plume was enough to identify him: The black knight that had been with them from the start. Perhaps he would have greeted the new comer, if his attention wasn't pointed back towards the rear...as if he was looking out for somthing.

Something had caught his attention after the group had dismounted...had anyone noticed, he had paused in the middle of the trek to...observe...it had been the shadows, not of their own...and they seemed to have been moving...following, them...odd...
 
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For once, he didn't need to tell anyone what to do. A fetid wind swept through the dead branches, shaking them as if to claw the clouds from the sky. Hefting his sword into a guard, he settled in, head moving far more than his body was.

Most everyone was here, save their most important guest; the ghouls.

A smile graced his pale face. Almost time.
 
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A stillness settled over the air. One that Faerlin knew quite, quite well. It was that special moment right before a battle, where her blood sang of victories to come. While she was only fighting beasts and undead and not people, so the challenge would be minimal, that didn’t lessen the thrill that rose in her. This was always the best part, before she was inevitably disappointed in the caliber of her opponents.

Unsheathing her sword, she placed herself between the noblewoman and where the paladin thought the threat was mostly like to emerge. This was going to be exciting.
 
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Ana wondered for a moment why everyone was just standing there waiting. It seemed like poor planning— to all fall still and wait for the attack. Sitting ducks, was the phrased that came to mind. Her old trainer’s words practically pulled up from the afterlife just to chastise her then and there.

Ana stepped forward, a pair of daggers held comfortably in each palm by her sides. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as the air around her shimme— A screech rang out. Multiple, in fact. Creatures descended on the group in a u formation, with only the caves behind them free from an attacker.

The ghoul that converged on Ana had been clearly human once, back when its limbs were whole and full of life. Now it was nothing more than dead flesh held together by magic. Ana opened her eyes, smiling slightly as that magic was broken by the buzzing aura around her. The creature disintegrated, falling into a dusty pile that rolled over her boots in a puff of dust.

Ana’s shoulders dropped in fatigue. The aura faded in an instance. Antimagic. She raised her dagger for what came next.
 
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