Open Chronicles Blood and Burdens

[Josai]

Those throats that called out for disenchantment spells had arrowheads punch clean through them. Bodkin points that skewered from one end to the other.

A wyld eye, green with wyld's magick, and granted owl's vision, peered through the shrubbery.

"How a band o' lowlives got silver bolts and disenchanters midst their ranks," Syr Sando said with an amused click of his teeth. He knocked a new arrow and went on, hidden in his perch, "Well," he took aim. "best just count our luck these two heroes showed up," he let fly.

In the melee, another arrow plinked off of a kettle-helm. The force smacked the man and rattled his head. "They've an archer!" the helmed one called out. A second arrow blew off his jaw.

Josai moved with caution. Quick, yet quiet steps saw her stride across the under-growth, her spear low, hidden in shadow. She would not give away her position with these two grabbing most of the attention. A vampire who cleaved through scores at once, and made short work of even thick plate, and a seemingly human man, who leapt and danced like a fae, sword shimmering all the while, betwixt arrow and foe alike.

The bandits died in scores. How many? It was hard for Josai to count. But she'd keep her eyes open all the same. Saw two men stand about, the way officers and leaders so oft did. Like nothing could touch them.

She let out a long, cold breath, and cloaked as she was, and traced a crescent moon in the dirt before her. Fingers quick to work another series of runes as death was dealt all around. Her ears keen for the sounds of any who would approach her.

Sando picked off targets here and there. Mage-lookin blokes, and silver spear having goons. He knew how to prioritize, and had the benefit of being off the frontline, positioned with the two death dealers before him, and the rabble beyond their whirlwind massacre.

Ashvyr Justinian Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

People were running now, some of them screaming in terror… or in death as an arrow or vampire blade blew them apart. Not all were so wise as to flee, though; there were many who stood their ground with varied weapons in hand. Torches waved signals in the air with voiced commands to stand, stand and fight. The bandits’ defense swelled and faded and swelled again as alarm drums beat out a frantic rhythm.

Justin paid no mind to any of it. He focused only two things; surviving, and killing. He flew among the bandits, ghost-like, weaving in and out of their numbers as his sword slashed any and all who came close enough. Armor proved to part like butter at his sword’s edge, and other weapons shattered as he struck them hard.

His eyes, if one chanced to look at them, seemed almost glazed, slightly narrowed but fogged over as if he were in a trance or hypnotism. His steps never faltered as he inhaled and exhaled in calm, steady breaths, as if he was not fighting for life for out for a relaxing stroll.

A warhound came dashing out of the cave, growling and barking as it charged into the fray. Its leash snapped behind it as it leaped at Justin, only to fall to the ground writhing and yelping as the sword impaled its chest and heart. Two more followed it; a head flew into the air and another was sliced in half. The defense of the bandits abated yet again, just for a moment. Justin scanned the area quickly, seeing at once the figures in the center of the battle, one hooded and radiating silent confidence.

He charged.

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

The bandits came at them in droves, wave after wave of what seemed like an endless tide of rusted steel and desperate strength. Askandr cared little for this, taking the oncoming tide and reaping what it gave him like a scythe against wheat. As soon as he found his mark, the swings of his sword grew wilder, spurred by an unending rage.

Each swing brought an end to the life of many and the end of an everyday life for many more. Killing and maiming were what he did, what he used to do for the kingdom many decades ago. The bloodthirsty beast in his soul did little to quell this notion.

Josai and Sando would find it odd. These bandits deeper into the fold were fearless, often sacrificing themselves so their peers could take advantage of any opening their demise would allow. They weren't trained professionals, far from it, but they fought with the ferocity of men who were promised more than gold.
---
Justinian's charge would warrant a smile from the hooded drow. He took a step back as his officer stepped forward. The burly human brandished a Warhammer, clad in mail and plate, with a fearsome sneer to compliment his foreboding attire. He roared as the slender knight approached, meeting the charge with a massive smash of his hammerhead, a vertical strike that would crush rock with its power.

Josai Ashvyr Justinian

 

[Josai]

There was something in the way that the sellswords moved. An abandon and disregard for their own safety. Gambits, reckless and foolhardy, that seemed to push their position. One fell to arrow fire, only so that the one behind them could push that much further. Only for them to fall, and for a third to be there still.

Syr Sando clicked his teeth. Loosed one last arrow and fell back from his position of cover. "They just seem to crawl out of the ground, these bastards," he growled beneath his breath, and slung his recurved bow over his shoulder. Drew his fine pointed dagger out with the next motion, the willow wood wand that ran through its handle stirred the magicks in the air, and he traced the wicked workings of something else. Something other in nature. Something laden with twisted magicks.

Josai drew the last seal into the ground. Sighted the thin fighter who moved as fast as an eel. Her eyes burned a bright and stary blue, and the young man's sword was traced by a frigid mist.

Should the spell take hold within his weapon, his attacks would gain the frigid bite of winter's cold, and freeze flesh with each cut, and coat whatever surface it struck with chilling ice.

Josai's own cloaking spell fell away. A brigand saw her form in the thrushes, rushed her with a wicked zeal, but found her spear plunged into his chest shortly after. She adjusted her wide brim hat, and hurried away from the frontline.

Ashvyr Justinian Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

Sweeping through the ranks of experienced brigands, seasoned highwaymen, and common thieves alike, Justinian’s movements never ceased nor faltered. Every act initiated was one never made in waste. It was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance of intricate timing and complex routine. As he dashed through the gauntlet of fighters to meet the monstrous human ahead, steel and iron flashed and voices roared… timed well to match the bodies that fell and the blood that flowed.

The human was heavy with corded muscle and unbridled strength. It was clear this was not a man to be taken lightly. Indeed, the musclebound warrior sneered as he raised his Warhammer; he had never known fear or defeat. But there was something other than the expected fear in Justinian’s steely blue eyes as he moved close to the intimidating figure.

The Warhammer descended with terrifying speed, quickened by its own heft and weight behind it. With the same precise timing, Justin dropped and rolled sideways, and the head of the Warhammer smashed apart only earth and crumbled rock.

Justin completed his roll and his sword came around as he twisted sharply, and his sword glimmered with icy blue magic. Frigid mist wafted from the blade, leaving a cold path of frosted air in its wake. The sword smashed into the handle of the Warhammer, and the hardened oak and steel bindings were encased in ice. Their inner workings cracked, and then shattered as Justin struck a second time. The handle cracked and burst apart in glistened crystal shards.

He didn’t stop there. With the swift strikes of a viper and the rage of a cornered wolf Justin rained wrath down on the man, flurried slashes and sweeps of his sword leaving misty trails that cut the air into a jagged puzzle. Far more than once he hit the man’s amor; far more than once he found a gap in the chain and plate he wore, exposing the bits of flesh beneath.

Wherever he struck, ice formed, streaking up and down in weakening, painful paths of cold. The man had managed to draw a sword by this time, but by this time too a cheek was red and blackened with frostbite, and his armor was a pale blue and white in cracked patches.

A heavy iron and leather bracer fell away as its straps were cut and shattered under the pressure of two attacks, and Jason rammed his sword clean through the man’s naked forearm.

Shinng.

The man roared in shock and pain as ice encased his lower arm. Blood seeped from his face now, and he moved slower with each second.

He had crushed many foes before. He had broken men weaker than him, tortured boys and raped women. He was the second of the hooded figure who made no move to help, had been a leader for years, had never known defeat. Now, as he panted under the onslaught of the young knight who never smiled nor frowned in his mission to kill, he felt it at last.

The vile taste of fear.

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Askandr left the rest of them to the witch and her companion, zipping past the scores of men spared from his ferocity. He stood there, watching Justin make short work of the armored brute, who put up only a middling defense against the knight, fighting to keep ground. There was fear in his eyes, but instinct told Askandr that it was not just fear of his opponent. In the end, the brute resorted to throwing away his arms and making a headlong tackle towards Justin, intent to grab him into a strangle with what strength he had left, the same recklessness found there as the bandits Josai and Sando dealt with.

Wave upon wave came crashing unrelentingly, men who fought wild like beasts swarming, fear-stricken in their gaze but bodies holding fast in defiance against the warriors who stood against them, unbreaking. They kept at this until the last of the marauders finally fell, an eerie silence now befalling the forest.

Askandr tilted his head to the hooded Drow, who stood there with an eerie disregard, arms crossed, half expecting the black knight's appearance but half surprised at the appearance of these extra guests. He raised his hands, smiling.

"Well, I expected to see you soon. But...these uninvited guests. Surprising. Oh well, it doesn't make much of a difference." His voice was a sickening velvet, too sweet to be true. The drow's eyes tilted to his bodyguard, the man sighing and shaking his head, almost casual in his manner.

"I would sooner part your head from your shoulders, elf, if I knew where your master hid."

"Bold words! For a bold knight. Well, here I am. What did you want? Aside from the obvious." His question was aimed at the group. This man looked to be the leader of the bandits that Josai and Sando were after.


Josai Ashvyr Justinian

 

[Josai]

Josai's spear stuck into the ribs of one man, her arms flexed, and her core tightend as she drove the weapon in, feet dug into the ground as she gored him.

Syr Sando flicked his dagger-wand about the air, traced the lines of a rune into the wind. A glyph glowed red and hot. Flame. It said, His offhand cocked back, palm open.

Let tongues of fire know full their desire,

Cant the veteran mage knight.

Let ceaseless gold feel full their hold,

He let out from his lips, fingers flexed and twitched as a golden light harnessed betwixt his palm.

Devour, as all comes to this hour,

He thrust his palm forward, and the glyph shift red. A spark of white flashed before the lines as Sando pressed his toward the magicked symbol. A glob of flame manifest, dripped embers from its flickering form, and shot forth in a gout of gold. A torrent of fire that washed brilliant across the manic crowd of brigands that did try to rush him.

Josai ripped her spear from a man's flesh, shift her weapon to have the winged barbs rip at the tendons at the back of a knee. A man fell. A spear crushed through his skull soon after.

As a gout of golden flame consumed a pack of marauders, Josai's eyes cast up to find the young knight, Ashvyr, still squared with the brutish second who was so frostbitten and wounded.

Witch that she was, she pointed the tip of her spear toward the larger man, let the silver of her bell ring at the end of its blue string. The runes carved upon the weapon's metal head glowed a pale blue as mist poured from the winged spearhead, and ice frosted across its bloodstained metal.

The ice upon the brutish officer crackled and hissed as it spread from the wounds that Ashvyr had rend upon his body. Slowing his movements, and destroying his flesh. Inch by creeping cold inch.

Ashvyr Justinian Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

With a howl the brute rushed Justin. Hands, already numb with cold, blackened and cracked as the spell of ice took greater hold. Still, they were aimed for Justin’s throat, and would have taken hold if the knight had met him or stood still, but he did not. With a grace and impeccable timing, Justin slid to the side, his sword singing through the air as he cut across the brute’s legs, leaving a deep slash upon which ice formed and slid upward like a translucent snake.

The bestial human screamed as he fell to the ground, gasping for air that stung overused lungs, his flesh dark and blistered from the magical ice, deathly cold and scalding hot at once.

Seeing his downfall the other marauders charged Justin, an entire group, filled with the unnatural relentless fearlessness brought on them by whoever led them. In another moment Justin would be overwhelmed, if not by their weapons, then by the sheer number of the bandits. So what happened next was bewildering to the last.

The young knight dropped to one knee. His eyes closed as his lips whispered something inaudible. The helm on his head glowed, a very light shine that could barely be seen with even the keenest eye. As the attackers fell on him in a frantic wave, there was a flash of violet light, and a thunderous sound rumbled forth in a single monstrous roar.

It was if a godly hand had reached down and struck away the bandits, as they collided with an invisible wall that lurched back and struck in retaliation, throwing all of them back. The brute, whose dying face was now half ice, had his limbs and most of his body shattered like a smashed crystal sculpture, ending his life.

The last of the marauders fell to the vampire and spellcaster, and a lethal silence fell upon them, with only a single man left, if truly it was a man at all.

Justin didn’t interfere as the vampire spoke to the hooded figure. In fact, as the figure retorted with fearless words, the knight finally looked tired as he flicked blood from his sword, as if his last trick had finally been drawn from the seemingly endless well of energy that carried him through the battle unscathed.

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

With all resistance expelled, the eery silence grew within the darkened forest. The brutish man Justin dealt with was now slumped, body half encased in frost, flesh crumbling into misty dust. Josai and Sando's assault managed to dispose of the last remaining marauders, with none left standing. A few corpses were charred with Sando's magic burning them, doing nothing in terms of dissuading the uncharacteristically unbreakable bandits. All that was left of the original band stood before them with an eerie calmness.

"I'll let you off easy. Surrender, and you all will be spared. Don't, and well, if you think what you did to my men was gruesome...you've yet to see anything close to the word." The elf was as calm as his initial appearance, not at all phased by the sudden burst of violence inflicted upon his troop. It looked like he was the last one left alive, but he seemed unburdened by the fact. He stepped slightly toward the fallen body of his lieutenant, kicking a piece of flesh now encased in ice and stepping on another without hesitance.

"Well, what do you say? We can forget all about this little...transgression of yours." It sounded genuine but authentic or not, Askandr would have none of it, pointing his sword at the drow.

"The only way this can end, elf, is with your master's death. Now give me his location, and I promise you a swift and painless death." Askandr's stance was resolute, drawing a slight purse of the lips from the dark elf. It was expected, but still, one could always dream.

"How unfortunate. And the rest of you? I suppose one voice would be insufficient for a group such as yourself? I would hardly call this a unified alliance, wouldn't you agree?"


Josai Ashvyr Justinian

 

[Josai]

Josai gathered her breath. Her eyes shaded from the moon's light by the wide brim of her steeple hat.

Chilling. That the band leader would feel so far removed from the rabble he had lead. Though the manner in which they fought, like rabid beasts backed into a corner, still lived fresh in her mind, as corpses of the cursed troop still burned about the ground.

"We know not the grave crimes you have transgressed against these people, or this land," Josai confirmed aloud. "But it is plain to see that you are a vile thing that must be expunged from these lands!" she thrust her spear point forward, and leveled its winged head to menace the enemy should he choose to spring forth. "We stand against you, " she assured,
feeling the pressure that charged the air.

One wrong move could see her dead. Could see Syr Sando gone from this world.

She made peace with this potentiality, and went on. Sando already stood at the ready. Arrow knocked against his bow.

Ashvyr Justinian Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

After the howls of and cries of a murderous battle turned slaughter, the silence was suffocating. A warhound nearby, nearly cut in half, whimpered, and the sound seemed to echo as a tranquil wind carried it across the ruined battleground. Moonlight gave a silver sheen to the blood cast over the earth, smelling of copper and gruesome death.

The witch spoke suddenly, with brave and heroic words. Justin rolled his eyes as he heaved a silent sigh. He tilted his head to one side, as if listening to an unheard voice. Then,

“Are you kidding?” He spoke not to the hooded figure but the witch herself. He chuckled, then laughed, a crude sound. He pointed his sword at a disemboweled corpse. “He was a father to two babes.” He pointed to another. “He recently proposed to a widow and was arranging a marriage.” Another body gestured at. “She was providing for a family of three and was pregnant with her third child.” He scoffed. “It’s easy to forget, but you’re no hero, so shut up.”

Everyone laughs the same. Everyone dies the same.

“We’re all damned anyway,” Justin continued, his blue, blue eyes finally finding the hooded man. “So you may as well get on with it before milord Askandr goes and tries to bite you.”

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

"Tut. tut. Such sharp words when all I've offered was an opportunity to part ways in peace." The hooded elf feigned disappointment before his cheerfully sinister voice picked back up. " And I never claimed to be a hero, squire. My master has given me but one task: 'Do as thou wilt.' Well, I suppose I should give my men a proper send-off. They've yet to receive their payment this week. I think that father of three was one week off from retiring, oh well."

His leather-gloved hands clapped twice as a sudden rustling in the grass. He chanted a foul utterance between his breath, a whisper that grew loud as it twisted madly in the air.

Sando and Josai would notice the fresh corpses shiver and shake around them; even the brutish corpse encased in ice began to throb and kick about. "I never got to give a proper goodbye to my men, who have been loyal to the end. Thankfully, now is my chance."

Askandr growled beneath his helm, lifting his blade in blinding speed and bringing it down upon the drow who, upon contact, would disappear in a puff of smoke, appearing above a boulder overlooking them. The newly dead rose with a chillingly renewed vigor, their lives long gone, but magical forces made grotesque use of what was left of them.

Slowly, these shambling creatures with pale green eyes started after the group, forming a slowly enclosing circle with them at the center.

Askandr tilted his helmet to look at his companions, a difficult choice to either pursue the thing that would bring him one step closer to his mark, or to quell the last vestiges of his knightly code and protect those who stood beside him.

"We need a plan. We cannot let him escape. Villages will end up the same..."
Josai Ashvyr Justinian

 

[Josai]

"Break through," Sando said, as his eyes measured the distance between them and the dead come to life again.

Josai lowered her spear point, closed her eyes, and let her breaths come cool and easy as the number of foes kept on closing.

"We thin the horde," Sando assured. "Askander and his big sword punch through,"

Quick fluid strokes, guided with a two handed grip, saw Josai trace a seal into the earth with the butt of her spear. A long stroke, then a second formed a circle.

The bow and arrow thrummed. Another knock, another dull twang. First shaft punched through skull, and knocked the undead back a step. The second saw its knee popped through. The leg failed. The undead man fell with a sick sound, wet as it tore.

Josai drew in a full breath. She kicked the but of her spear and the head flashed in silver arc down. Its point aimed towards those foes opposite the direction in which their prey ran. A wide swipe of her weapon across the air saw white mist powder and trail with a cold hiss behind the spearhead.

The runes in the earth glowed.

A winter-blue trail of ice crackled and hissed across the runic circle before Josai, a thurst of her spear saw that same ice race forward, freezing the ground beneath. The ground beneath one foe turned slick. The zombie fell. With a sweep of her weapon, the path of ice traced that same direction. Caught one more foe, but splashed across his ankle. Krept up his leg.

One more motion. Josai thrust her spear down, point upon the circle. Up again. The lines of ice glowed. The path she had laid frozen behind them burst upward into a wall that impeded the foes behind them.

Sando smirked. Shot another arrow into a man's ankle. Whirled with a snap of cloak and cracked another foe's head with the blunt of his bow. His sword rang free of its sheath.

Josai's winged spear ripped through the neck of another man.

Askandr Korotkov Stryzga Ashvyr Justinian

 

[Ashvyr Justinian]

Stolen from the vestiges of death, the men and women were unimpeded by their wounds. They were, for soulless bodies, moved surprisingly fast, and all were still armed with weapons held in a death grip. Their glowing eyes focused with eerie indifference on the three who had slain them all. The only bodies not risen were those without heads, and even those decapitated writhed and shuddered with the magic cast upon their corpses.

Justinian frowned. It would be easier now to kill these men turned monsters. But he knew that his own body had a limit, and he was close approaching it. And there was more than just this foul horde to put down – there was the drow, who was undoubtedly clever, lethal, and had more planned than they knew.

The “squire” tilted his head at Askandr. “I don’t need your protection,” he said, as if reading the vampire’s mind. “Go after the drow.” He twisted, his sword shearing through the neck of a risen cadaver. It dropped.

He stepped back from the encroaching wall of undead. He waisted his sword, the blade reflected in his eyes. He closed them, for a moment seeing nothing but darkness. He whispered t himself words that echoed in the air around him, words that perhaps meant nothing, but carried with them a magic of their own.

“I took the knife.

“I came upon them as they slept.

“I smiled as I killed them.

“They died and I laughed.

“I am damned, and give myself to you.”

His eyes snapped open. The blue in them shone. He darted forward, fast as a hunting viper. He moved like an eel in the throes of death, striking out, this way and that. His sword, coated in blood, flashed and danced as they took down undead after undead. Bodies fell in a ceaseless rhythm. Thump thump thump. Like a rabbit stamping its foot on the ground. How funny. Justin laughed, a crude sound as he killed what was dead already.

Not so far away, the witch was doing a fine job herself of thinning the horde, her ice taking over the limbs and burdening the shambling bodies with its slick and deadly cold. At some point, through the fighting, Justin found himself close to her.

“Name?” he asked, as he skewered another body. “Not that I care awfully much, but I guess I have to call you something.”

 

[Lumina]

Lumina was floating high up in the sky observing the spectacle down below, she saw a knight dodging arrows and cleaving down the brigands who stood in their way as if they were not even there. A woman who seemed to have hidden her presence, the only reason Lumina could see her was because of her mana flow.

And then there was this frenzied human who according to Lumina had a taste for blood? Watching as the figure charged forward not even caring about the things that might kill him were they to hit.
Seeing the figures in the middle of the encampment were not about to do anything Lumina thought she could help with the torches and fires, she might be able to help the three fighters get rid of at least 1 element.

The air seemed dry enough for her plan so she floated down towards one of the campfires, a white light could be seen by anyone who would be paying attention to their surrounding. Lumina transformed from her little orb form into a angelic looking girl, it would be difficult to not see her were someone to look in her direction.
A young angelic girl with a white one-piece dress, wings and silver blue hair stood in front of the fire and raised her right hand.

Let's make it rain and help these strong warriors and the woman looking to strike from the shadows.

A disc of ice formed above the fire causing the air above and around it to cool down, doing so would hopefully cause rain clouds to form to put out the fires and torches.
Lumina stood there for a while trying to cause rain to form, seeing as it did not work she decided on a different course. The brigands were distracted with the three warriors at this moment so she could move more freely, she started walking towards a flank of the brigand group as a faint glow started to envelop the young girl.

Time to cool down these brigands... "Absolute Zero".

After several seconds hail started to fall harshly upon the brigand group.