Quest Of Monsters & Men | Questing Campaign

[Vanya Valentine]

"What? Trouble? In Falwood? Darlin, nothin ever happens out in these woods~" The Old Mill Innkeeper​

Enigmatic hell hounds croon havoc, vexation upon the sands, while the predatory, apex of the beast remains nestled within the safety of sovereign jungle walls. They suckle, drink heavily at thee breast of life, birthed into a world of lecherous animosity and fevered bedlam based upon the preaching of depravity. Based within the throes of primeval world, of primal instinct and fervid inamorata. The old testaments, and wills upon which the livid enchantments of history confound upon, ligaments and tissues of a lascivious heart of archaic, rustic mystery. How profound, this Bible of deceit, it bids you welcome adventurer. Stay, if but for the breath of a moment and let us welcome you, o' gracious guest, unto the very enthralling lips of enigmatic Eden. Walk among those of barbaric enticement, lingering primeval ghosts. Prolific monoliths of times well passed, and yet still they remain, straying remnants of a world which refuses to change. Taste the euphoric rapture, the bitter, acrid knife of betrayal slipping amorously between lithe, dulcet ribs. Enthrall in the cataclysmic mutiny of two worlds expanding, imploding, clashing against one another in a heated affair. Walk in the wake of monstrous beasts, their paths unfurled as if coaxing closer, closer still the rush of a curious mind until gnashing severity of fangs sever all thought from a feeble stem and cerebral musings. This is the world of beast and monsters~

And speaking of monsters, it seemed one in particular was on the move. Keen eyes shifting back and forth over the evergreen as the wind whistled overhead with a gentle gust of wind. A lone wolf, a woman traveled along the dirt path quietly. Observing her surroundings and dreading every step she took forward. The sun had stalked her since the day began and exhaustion was quickly overwhelming the dark huntress as sweat trickled down her forehead and her breathing became heavier as the journey went on. Luckily however the sun was finally sinking into the depths of the horizon ahead and allowing the moon to slowly take its place in the night sky after the brief period of twilight. The Huntress did not typically visit Elven lands, especially the Falwood. But her prey had forced her to the city of Fal'Addas and as a result she found herself neck deep in their woodland just below the Elven City.

The raven haired woman inhaled deeply through her nostrils and clenched her fist around the handle of her briefcase in irritation.

'How much further?' She thought aloud, a hymning sound flaring within her mind as the link to her Familiar reached back to communicate with its master.

'Not far, my beloved wolf. This one sees trouble ahead, would you like to divert your course?' A soft, warming voice informed, making the woman quirk a brow as she began to sniff a bit more.

'Trouble? I don't smell anything right now. Is it a beast?' The huntress questioned, finding her heart thrashing within her chest at the thought of a new hunt so soon. There was a brief silence before the familiar replied.

'The most violent beast of all, dear wolf.' She mused before chuckling darkly. 'Humans~'

The Wolf paused, stopping in her tracks as a grimace flickered across her face.

Trouble in Elven lands by humans? Getting involved might not of been the best idea but she had come way to far to simply tuck tail and go the other way. The sun was also still up and the heat kept her tired, last thing she needed was a conflict right now.

'Show me~' She demanded, remaining still on the dirt path as a flood of energy pulsed within her eyes. Those crimson optics fluctuating with energy as her pupils tightened and a blue shine could be seen emanating from within the crimson lens of her glasses. Her own sight began to grow dark as the vision from her familiar overshadowed her own sight. The Familiar flew overhead in the shape of a raven, its eyes peering down at the sight of a group of men and a couple of women gathered around what looked to be a traveling Elven family. The Huntress found it hard to see any further details from the sheer height her familiar was flying. 'Get closer, i need to see more.' She ordered, the Raven slowly descended closer to the earth before flying to a nearby branch just above the scene taking place.

With this position the whole situation just became a lot more clearer. The group were standing around three bodies which were gruesomely strangled to death which explained why The Wolf had failed to catch a scent from this far. A boy, probably a teenager given how young he appeared for an elf, a mother, clearly the elder of the family...and a child. Buried within her mothers arms as the men all stood beside one another. Her heart tightened at the display, clenching her jaw tightly as she focused her attention on the men who she presumed to be the culprits.

"Well, we got some coin and some supplies. Think they're from around here? Maybe they got a house or somethin?" One of the men asked, counting through a couple coin purses that must have come from the unfortunate souls who were unlucky enough to cross their path. A larger man stroked his grizzled beard, one whole side of his face practically burned away and horribly scarred.

"Maybe, if they do then they might also have some more stuff we can take sell. We need money to get to Tortuga, especially since we lost our damn ship even getting over here. They came from that way and i remember hearing about some old Elves running some kind of inn at an old mill. We can head up that way, get some rest and maybe if no one else is there we can ya know...do our thing." The man explained, making the others simply nod their heads in agreement. After they all decided what to do next a couple of women in their group grabbed the bodies they had murdered and dragged them off to the river beside them, tossing the bodies into the water and watching them float downstream before climbing back up the hill, climbing into the back of a well decorated wagon being pulled by a couple of horses and continued off the dirt path and onto a stone road leaving up the river.

The Huntress closed her eyes and severed the visual link connecting she and her familiars eyesight.

'Shall this one follow? Hunt them, the wolf shall?' Her familiar asked, making the young wolf sigh deeply before continuing on the dirt road.

'No, leave them be. I don't want to get mixed up in anything they have going on. But i do need to rest, so we'll be heading to the inn as well. If anything maybe my presence can keep them in check...if not, i'll just avoid them. I'd rather not risk a fight this deep into Elven Territory, especially not with a group of land-wrecked pirates. Fly ahead, keep me informed.' She explained, rolling her shoulders and making her way to the stone road and slowly heading up towards the Old Mill Inn.

After about an extra hour of time had passed the moon was finally overhead and the night had speckled the obsidian sky with flecks of silver. Eventually the wolf found herself approaching the Inn at long last, and stationed at the stable were the horses who were originally pulling the wagon she had seen flee the scene of the crime. It was parked off to the side of the inn and smoke emanated from the chimney. The smell of freshly cooked meals filled the air and the bustling of chatter radiated from within the lit up in.

The fluttering of wings flapped nearby as the old Raven came flying down from the sky and landing upon her shoulder as a black cat, shifting forms now that they were going to be settling within a confined, populated space. The Huntress could smell others within the inn, so at the very least the Pirates and the Inn Owners weren't the only ones inside. Good, this lifted some of the tension from her shoulders and maybe she could actually get a meal and sleep without keeping an eye open.

And so she made her way to the Inn, approaching the front door and pushing it open with an audible 'creeeeeeek'. Forcing some of the individuals inside to shift their gaze over to the mysterious young woman who made her way inside, draped in High Class clothes of a fashion clearly not Elven and carrying a large Briefcase by her side with a black cat perched on her opposite shoulder. Silver framed sunglasses concealing her eyes behind crimson lenses as her coat fluttered slightly in the breeze. She was well dressed, her hair tied back into a ponytail with a red ribbon holding it back nice and neat. Dark colored lipstick graced upon full lips and a silver cross dangling from black and red beads wrapped around her forearm and wrist. She was an...unusual character to say the least, especially in Falwood.

"Oh my, another one huh? Such a busy night this is! Go on and take a seat honey we'll be right with ya!" An older womans voice rang, a tall elf with a head of silver locks. Clearly either the Innkeeper or a Barmaid...or both, finding employees must not of been an easy thing to do this far out. She carried several platters along her arms and within both hands masterfully, serving the patrons ale and food one table at a time. Surprisingly the Inn was well populated despite being so far away from the main city, supposed she wasn't the only one traveling out this way. There were a couple older men in cloaks, sitting alone at their own table playing some sort of card game. A woman off to the far corner sleeping in her chair, some elves blabbering about something or another and even the thugs she had seen earlier sitting in the back whispering among themselves. Her eyes did not linger of them long, she found herself looking back at the white haired elf as she finished delivering her payload and pulled he hair back and wrapped it up with a rubber band. Quickly marching back to the front of the inn and vanishing into the kitchen where she could see some other, similarly appearing Elves working.

So this was a family establishment...how lovely. The Wolf chuckled softly to herself, finding an empty table and setting her briefcase down beside her leg and pulling off her jacket. Revealing a dark burgundy colored shirt and a black corset with silver trimmings hugging her waist. Silver chains hanging from her hips and down her thighs as the Huntress took a seat and huffed, the cat on her shoulder now resting on the table and grooming herself as the dark haired woman waited for the Bar Maid to return.

It was going to be a very interesting night~

OOC THREAD
​

Seska the Dragonslayer
Aldren Cordale
Quoril
Am'Thet

 

[Aldren Cordale]

The howling winds burst through the leaves, singing a tune that was all too familiar for Aldren by now. The horse treks through the wilderness as the sun slowly gave way to the moon's night and the darkness that ensued. The young man was never one for the night, but he always welcomed the silence and tranquility it brings. Although, those are hardly the only things that the night brings.

A wise man once told him, 'Night gathers, and so do our greatest fears'. At first, Aldren thought it was one of those childish lectures about not going out to the wilds at night, but after some time on the road, he learned that the common fears of the folk barely scratch the surface of the horrors this wonderful world has to offer.

The horse came to an abrupt halt, which all but alarmed Aldren of the potential dangers that surrounded him, and he quickly reached for the hilt of his longsword, his eyes rapidly searching the vicinity for any signs of threats. However, the answer he sought was right in front of him. In the distance, the man could see smoke quietly rising to the skies, and the sounds of the wilds were awfully muted, as if there were no souls near that place. Calmly stroking the side of his loyal mare, Aldren descended from the steed and guided it to a nearby tree stump. "I'll be back soon, girl". He said with a small smile on his face while calming the horse.

Aldren slowly made his way to an abandoned, ruined square that must've been a small settlement long ago. That place reeked of death and dispair, and so the young man was already prepared for any surprises, his hand firmly grasping his sword. Upon getting close enough though, his thoughts sadly came to confirmation. He could see the carnage that was left there. Dismembered bodies and blood all over the place. The well that was once used for water was now a pool of blood with an arm hanging from it. Even though it was a rather ancient place, the damage was quite recent judging by the fresh smell of blood and the fire that was put out not too long ago.

'Study your surroundings, make your own plans. Things aren't always what you see'. Those were the words of his master Riss from he was teaching Aldren how to track and hunt. But not animals, monsters. The horrors that the night brings. The scourge that plagues the land, making it dark and sick. And it was such a monster that Aldren had been tracking for weeks, but the damn thing was always one step ahead, and that cost even more lives.

He knelt beside one of the bodies, the damage to the it made it barely recognizable but Aldren could see that it was a young man, not too far from his own years. His legs were torn off and his face was caved in. 'Brute strength and ferocity', the man thought to himself. A rabid werewolf was the first thought that Aldren had when he first started tracking the monster two weeks from that day, when he was resting in a village now far from where he was. But that was weeks ago, and without the power of the moon, Aldren would've been able to find it by now. The thing he chased was far more than a mere beast.

The sound of broken wood alarmed Aldren, who tilted his head to face the wilds from where the sound came from, and he could see how the leaves shook heavily to whatever passed there. The monster finally slipped, and left a trail of blood and bones in its wake, a trail that Aldren quickly followed as he galloped through the wilderness with his mare, Helen.

It wasn't until several hours later that the trail had gone cold and the man seemed lost in the woods, but the smell of food and ale brought some sort of sense to him. He was quite lucky to have found that tavern, even though it oddly sat in the middle of a forest. In the distance, he could see workers serving the patrons that were arriving from all over the place in front of the establishment and one or other cloaked individuals entering the place. Taking down his own cloak for fear he would be mistaken for a common bandit, Aldren guided his mare towards the wicked comfort of drunken civilization and rested Helen in a nearby stable, where she would welcome the company of someone else than a strange would be Templar. He smiled at her, she must've been thinking the exact same thing as she passed about after Aldren came down from her. The man stroke her gently and grabbed a purse of coin from the saddle, then making his way towards the tavern.

What first greeted him was a loud creek of the wooden door, bringing down the gaze of everyone that was in the place. He put his hand on his sword, a gesture to show he was well armed and not some fool traveler waiting to be sacked and killed. Some of the people there seemed to understand that and quickly went back to their music, drinking and laughing. Not too long after, a young elven lass came to meet him while holding several drinks. Aldren was quite impressed with her expertise, and let out a soft smile as he asked for a empty table. 'If you had come a moment later, this place would be bursting and there would be no table, sir! But here, there's one for you right over there', the lass said while pointing towards a table across a suspiciously looking, raven haired woman. As he passed near her on his way towards his table, Aldren could almost feel the aura of danger that came from that woman.

He undid the knot that kept his sword and sheath on his waist and put it leaning against the table, next to him. The elven lass brought him a drink of ale, Aldren took it down his dry throat in one go. With the merry music filling the air and the occasional suspicious look from a few nasty looking individuals from across the tavern, he thought that maybe that night could provide him with some solid answers at last.

Interesting answers, at least...

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

The woman lay on her back in a meadow, the peaks of ridges ringing in this place. It felt very nearly like an old grove, a place where a magic circle would have been created, sacred ground for whatever ritual The People had needed in those dark days. How long had it been since then? She didn't know. Just presently, she was caught in the grip of powerful rememberance, recalling days so far gone by that the people of this world could scarcely fathom such a passage of time.

This was a world at peace. The pantheon was not at war, and the rivers did not run red with the blood of the innocent caught in the colossal struggle between the Gods and Goddesses. Angelique did not preside over law, Barnabas did not hold the reigns of honor. The chaotic Leto did not order his followers to cleanse the land of the impure, and so the vast temples and groves did not rise, the priests and priestesses' call to the heavens bringing down divine retribution on any and all, until cities were burned to ashes, their people slain.

She closed her eyes. She could recall so many people, their memories faint as ghosts. A litany of names, all with deeds associated to them. All gone, all dead. Dust. Forgotten.

Just like my own people, she thought, a hint of the ever present sadness creeping in unbidden. Wayward children of the pantheon, lost in time and without any direction. Without any meaning.

The ancient Sidhe sat up, looking around this peaceful place. Without meaning, she had said, and that was more or less the truth of things. How long had she been alive? The earlier years were, of course, gone. Their own kind of dust, scoured from her mind by the endless march of time. How could anyone understand what it was like? The trouble was, there were precious few who could. The humans were not equipped to deal with such a vast stretch of time. Even the elves were ill equipped to consider it, children that they were.

She shook her head, dispelling the images of Shayanna, or Lia Moonflower, of Artemus. Faces, ashes, dust.

With a muffled sigh, she stood and brushed the grass and dirt from her skirts, and stretched to a chorus of crackling bones and joints. She picked up her ubiquitous staff, fingers curling around its carved surface worn smooth by an eternity of use, and looked for her pony. Nightwind was cropping at meadow grass a hundred meters away or so, placid in this pastoral setting, and the Sidhe shook her head with irritation. Clicking her teeth, the mare tossed its head, looking at her with large, liquid eyes before whinnying softly and trotting her way.

The forest path she was following was barely a game trail, and as she mounted up, bareback, on her horse, she again wondered what it was that had called her this way. Some faint echo, unfamiliar or, more like, unremembered. The elfin people often meddled in the Art, and while they were far less destructive with their use of the sacred power, they were still woefully misinformed of its use. Most of the short-sighted races were, in her opinion.

Whatever it was that drew her this way, it had piqued her interest enough to come. If she was being truthful to herself, pretty much anything would have drawn her attention. This world was, more or less, boring. Nothing happened, and since she had arrived here years before, trapped, she had been made to suffer the boredom in silence.

Nightwind required no direction from her, and so she was left to think shallow, empty thoughts as the animal picked its way along the forest path, crossing streams as it went, wending around the boles of ancient trees. Her rider stared a million miles away, and ten thousand years back, at a road that stretched into the mists....

"Excuse me, miss?"

Seska blinked, and turned to the voice. A youthful elfin face greeted her, a tentative smile on his face. He held the reins of her pony, looking her straight in the face though she was mounted. A quick glance around showed that she had arrived at...well, not a settlement, but a secluded inn. A wider road passed in front of it, so it was likely that this was a trading post and a place for caravans and merchants to stop on their way to Fal'Addas or points east or north.

"Where am I?" she asked the boy, in as high a pitched voice as would be expected of a child, which she clearly was not if anyone even bothered to look.

"The Old Mill Inn, miss. Seven days out of Fal'Addas, if that is what you mean?" the boy said. The look over her head might have been a search for other members of her party, or possibly looking for her parents. Irritating.

"Seven day," she muttered to herself. That one flaring point, a beacon shining across the land, was absent now and had been for days. It could be close, or it could be distant, but it was in this direction in either case. "Well. Stable Nightwind, please," she said, offering a copper coin to the boy as she dismounted. He stood a foot and a half taller than her when she was on the ground.

"Yes, miss," he said as he took the coin and the reins, and led the animal away.

She was left standing in front of an old structure made of mortared river stones and timber, with the quaint, country feel that the ancient woman could appreciate. It felt like home, or at least like one of the many homes she'd had over the years. The murmur of the river nearby drew her attention, but briefly. Brushing the silvery hair out of her face, she made her way across the yard towards the deck and the door leading inside.

The latch was almost above her head, and she stiffled irritation as she drew upon the source of magic, a wellspring within that flowered and flowed through her like a raging river. Only the barest thread was required as, without a words, she gestured vaguely to the doors. The latch clicked, and the door opened as she stepped forward, into the inn proper.

Inside, it was lit with a comfortable atmosphere, dim enough to feel homely, but bright enough not to be brooding. Her eyes faintly glowing within, a pale amethyst light coming from somewhere beyond those purple orbs, she made her was to a table that was unoccupied. The innkeeper hadn't even noticed her arrival, yet, and was speaking to a member of their staff - a daughter, perhaps? - in the doorway to the kitchen. It was surprisingly busy for the time of day, but perhaps a caravan was on its way through and had stopped.

Seated at her table, she waited until someone came around to take her order. After a while, the girl came back with the ordered wine, looking at her suspiciously and muttering about children not needing to drink - burn in hell, baby, burn in hell. She looked around, not particularly interested in seeing anything. A raven haired woman sat at a table by herself some short distance off, looking as full of herself as could possibly be. Another child that thought she was grown, likely, someone who had lofty ideas or thought themselves special. Clearly a couple of merchants arguing at a table in the back, spittle flying as they raged about some petty thing or another. A man with a sword that had the look and feel about him as of someone that knew what they were doing with it. Always a useful thing to have in a pinch. A couple of locals, perhaps farmers, or perhaps just laborers delivering something from a local community to here.

All in all, it seemed uninteresting. Boring, banal. She entertained the notion of livening things up a little, but her heart just wasn't in to stirring up trouble at the moment. She had a thing to chase after, whatever it was, and that might prove far more entertaining than tweaking the noses of some merchants or sell-swords.

She sipped at the rich red wine, leaning back, thinking.

 

[Quoril]

Despite being an elf, Quoril had only been to Falwood once before. When he was still very young he had taken a trip there with his mother to find the royal bell flower that grew on a vine. It grew upwards around tree trunks and was easily distinguished by its numerous large pastel purple bell-shaped flowers. He remembered his mother telling him that mixing a tiny bit of the crushed petals into a healing potion sped up the rate of recovery immensely.

This was his second trip to Falwood. It wasn’t his intended destination but just happened to be where he ended up. Quoril decided that he would stay in Falwood for a few days to see what he could gather, but as it was well past dusk he decided it could wait until tomorrow. As if by chance he noticed a light shining through the trees and he headed towards it. Emerging from the trees he came across an inn with a sign on the front that read “Old Mill Inn” and continued inside.

“There aren’t very many seats left but go sit down and I’ll be over as soon as I can!” Quoril heard the barmaid (or innkeeper? He wasn’t sure who she was) call as he walked in. He spotted a lone chair at a tiny table far in the back corner and decided it was as good a seat as any. The elf was surprised by the diversity of people he walked by. There was a woman with a cat on her shoulder who gave off a dangerous aura as he passed, a man with his sword leaning against the table, and what appeared to be a young girl drinking...wine? Quoril stared at her for a second and then decided that it was probably none of his business.

Upon reaching the small table, Quoril removed his large pack and stowed his sword in it with the handle sticking out. This was an inn and he was pretty sure that there was no need for a weapon. Besides, the place was crowded and there was no room to be swinging around a sword. If a fight was to break out, he had better and more reliable ways to defend himself than with a sword he barely knew how to use.

The barmaid eventually made her way back to where Quoril was sitting. After ordering a cup of chilled mint tea, he retrieved one of the many books from his backpack and started reading.