Open Chronicles Some Unholy Obscenity

[Violetta Amrita Primrose]

Violetta’s day had been a normal one. Several logs chopped into firewood. Deer, rabbit, and fish hunted. The children in her village had been checked on and sent to their studies. She let out a happy sigh and put her fists on her hips as a notice of a job well done. Gods she was good at the shit she did.

She was turning to enter her home and take a quick rest, but was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream echoing from the trees nearby. As her head swiveled hard to look towards the noise she noticed one of the lumberjacks she was working with, exiting the forest at full speed and missing his right arm.

Her eyes went wide as the man called out to her;

“Ab-aberration! Run! Get everyone ins-“

The man was cut short of his warning as a mangled, blood red dog pounced from the cover of shade and bit him straight in the neck. The blood poured like the world’s slowest fountain out of him. Violetta‘s instincts kicked in and she turned to face the village,

”EVERYONE INSIDE, MONSTERS AFOOT.”

The village had long ago learned that she did not make light of things like this. In an instance there were several slams of handmade doors. The shoddier ones splintering from the impact. Her only fighters would be in those woods. Violetta ran to her shack while the beast was still distracted and hoisted her axe from the floor. Her sword would be too big a burden to use right now. Especially if they were fast.

As she came back out to face them, it was as if magma had poured from the forest. There were eleven of them. Blotting her view of the forest floor in a bone jutting, crimson wave. The creatures were clearly undead from their condition. They wouldn’t be called off.

But where had they come from? And why here? These were questions that needed answering.

But that wasn’t as important as cutting these things to ribbons. At least not right now.

Violetta walked confidently towards the one that had finished on her peer. As she approached she recognized him. Lucas. Always such a hard worker, that one. Everything he’d done had been for his daughter, Jennie. These things took Jenni’s father from her and it fell on Violetta’s shoulders to relay that.

Fuck them. Fuck every one of these fucking abominations.

The beast noticed her then, and took flight towards her. The speed at which it closed the distance was horrifying. It was like screeching hawk swooping for it‘s prey. It moved effortlessly and efficiently with the aim to take her neck.

What it met instead was the rusting head of Violetta’s hard-swung axe straight into the side of it’s head. It was knocked aside and flinched, but it still moved. Wasn’t dead yet.

“‘MON THEN YA DAMNED HOUNDS,” She blurted at them with all the intensity she could muster. “LET’S SEE WHAT IT TAKES T’PUT YA BACK IN TH’GROUND!”

 

[Be'sennar]

It wasn't everyday Be'senaar was allowed to intervene with the trials of mortals. Though that was a thankful thought, there were still many evils in the world he wished he could face, lest the gods demanded he couldn't intervene. The Redeemer was on a pilgrimage of sorts, back to his home, to Eredale.

Many of his followers had returned to their normal lives, save the few that had no prior orders. It was always pleasant. "Fel," Began the Redeemer. "What plans have you, for when we reach home?"

His longtime Dwarven companion would remove a pipe from between his teeth. "See the lads, maybe travel further south to Eth Tikund," a hearty laugh accompanied by a grin. "Make sure ol' Gorm still making the hard stuff! Ah-ha! And you?"

Be'senaar would laugh lightly with his companion before turning in his saddle to take in young Aneirien. "Visit my family, train her up some. No rest for the needed." He mused. "Aenwyn?"

The older female seemed to be pulled from her thoughts. "Visit the library, add some of our adventures to the existing tales. Maybe seek out Brother Gylbert and see if there have been any interesting sightings as of late." Her gaze shifted to the youngest member in their party. "Rien. You think you're up for more studies and training?"

Rien, would start to speak, her expression thoughtful. "Well, we co-" she would be cut off by sharp screams up ahead and her eyes went wide in surprise.

Be'senaar would look to the source, his eyes glowing in a thin golden hue. "Redeemed.. prepare for battle." Instead of sending them ahead for a conflict he couldn't interfere with, this time, he would grab the hilt of his blade and pull it free from its scabbard. "We must save all that we can." With that, his heels would dig into the sides of his war horse, spurring it forward in a burst of speed.

He didn't need to look behind him to know the others had followed suit. They were the Redeemed. They defended the weak, cleansed the corrupt. What lie ahead was a normally peaceful village, now being haunted by undeath.

Fel would break off with Rien, targeting a small pack of the vermin trying to breach through a shoddy door. The hovel next door had already been torn asunder, the occupants dead. One such creature launched itself towards the makeshift door, expecting more easy meals. Instead, it would collide with a magickal barrier, the holy magick causing its body to writhe and burn. It would scamper back only to be crushed by Rien's mace.

Aenwyn would guide her courser into the center of the village, dismounting mid charge to pierce her glowing blade through the chest of another, the tattered remains of it disintegrating in a flash of holy light.

Be'senaar? Where did the Redeemer go? To aid one he might have slain in an older life. The woman reeked of the corruption of the hells, but her heart shone through. And that was all he needed. A pair of the abominations would lunge at Violetta from the side, only for one to be trampled mid leap by Be'senaar's warhorse. For the second, they would only make it halfway through the leap before being cleaved in two. A ghastly head would sail free of its body and soar over her head, while the rest of the body fumbled lazily into the earth before her. "Rest easy, friend. You do not fight this battle alone."

Violetta Amrita Primrose

 

[Violetta Amrita Primrose]

Violetta had no qualm with divine warriors. She didn't spite the angels even if she was technically hell spawn. That birthright never really applied to her. She didn't get stronger in darkness; she didn't find her power via hexes. No, Violetta had brought herself her own strength. And frankly, she cherished the sun.

Watching the man cleave through the beasts she was bound to struggle with was as impressive as it was irritating. Some were just granted power she'd never know and that was a fact she would always find ire with.

More than anything, she was concerned for the denizens who'd perished.

Their aid was appreciated, and not a moment too soon. But those were friends she'd bury. That took up much more brain space for her than the might of these warriors.

"Make quick work of it, then." She said, lodging her axe back into the previously wounded monster. With the second blow it would die, a horrid and inhuman screech escaping its mangled maw.

She'd had no intention of being rude. But, if the warriors were here, they should have no problem preventing further death.

There was a job to be done. Conversation could wait.

"Please." She pleaded before sprinting back towards the houses with her woodcutter's tool, raised to take the life of whatever nightmare beast next made the mistake of targeting her loved ones.

Be'sennar

 

[Dauner]

Sitting cross-legged, and arms crossed atop a mutated beast, a wolf now towering at twice the size of an ordinary one, Dauner had let himself drift into a sleep-like state as he meditated. He'd travelled further into fallwood ever since being washed up on its shores, and had encountered the dying beast along the way. Not wanting to walk for the rest of his adventure, Dauner had taken its soul brand and made a soul contract with it. Afterwards, through the use of demonic energy, the beast had undergone a forced mutation, which strengthened its muscles and increased its size. Even then, Dauner thought it unworthy of being his mount, but still used it as there were no alternatives.

As the demonic wolf strode forward, it caught an odd smell in the air. The mutation had not only granted it an evolved intelligence, that put it on another level when compared to the average wolf, it had also given it the ability to smell dark energies of all kinds, and the stench of death was particularly strong in that direction.

Dauner's eyes slowly opened up, as he awakened. "Not bad. Seems like you can smell it too" Dauner said, giving the beast plus points. Perhaps, if trained properly, this beast could end up becoming worthy of serving as his mount, he thought.

"Now then. Shall we see what is going on over there?" he continued. The wolf howled a response, and leapt forward, relishing its new-found speed.

Soon enough, they reached a village. As soon as they got there, Dauner had a noticeable frown on his face. Holy knights, Templar, and paladins alike, Dauner had a terrible history with them. Well, it was to be expected. They were servants of a god, and Dauner had once waged war with the gods back on Segora. But this was Arethil, now. So the influence of those gods couldn't reach it.

He relaxed his face, taking note of the other troublesome aspect in the village. Undead hounds were wreaking havoc in the village. The creatures intrigued him. That, and he was bored and had nothing better to do.

"Hey wolf" Dauner called out to his mount. "Go help rid this village of those pesky hounds. Do that and I'll give you a name"

Any ordinary person, or anyone unaware of the meaning behind his words, would think he spoke of just an ordinary name. But no. The name, he spoke of, was an existential identity. The power such a name held was beyond the understanding of mere mortals. He was aware that the holy knights, in the village, would likely attack the wolf as soon as they saw it. But that was also a form of training for his newly acquired mount. At most, he'd prevent it from dying, but won't interfere otherwise.

Bursting with excitement, the demon wolf lunged at the nearest hound, smashing its head with its paw, and then onto the next. Dauner in the meantime, concealed his presence and watched from the shadows.

---

Violetta Amrita Primrose | Be'sennar​

 

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

Some Short Time in The Past​

---

They'd all three heard the call from the Allir stone. The warping, hissing words too garbled beyond recognition by tongue and tooth and Planar Veils to be understood by many.

S̶̯̈́P̶̫̏A̶̙͐W̸͇̚N̴͙̈́
̸̘̇F̸̨́A̸̳̕E̶̘̋ ̵̘̈́F̸͍͂O̸̺̓R̴̖̓Ḙ̴͒S̷̗̒T̵̺̈́

̴͐͜D̸̥͒E̴̝̚Ä̵̰́T̷̢̅H̵͔͠

̸̻̈́Ẇ̸͙Ỉ̴̡T̷͎͝Ṉ̴̀É̴̩Ś̷͍S̴̼͝

A horrid thing to those unknowing who even heard it, reeking of sulfur and basalt and ash. It caused Bunnie, all the way in Alliria proper, to rise from his desk with such potent determination that the dogs, once laying and panting, ears pricked, rose swiftly and called to the ceiling.

"We are called upon, my beasts!"

---

The Present Half-Hour​

---

The trip to Falwood was fine, perhaps. A short wagon train to the Allir stone-meet-Falwood stone, and from there a small trekking party deeper into the wilds of the place. Nothing Bunnie hadn't once walked tenfold, so many years ago. Nothing he couldn't handle.

But the dogs, by the Hells, the dogs! For every ounce of brains they had beyond the natural of Arethilian beasts, they had in equal measure the curiosity and the nature and the need to mark things just as their visages beheld them. A yank on the lead here, a sniff there, an inglorious leg hike there. All undoubtedly at the behest of the rancid stench of rot and gnarled reek of What Once Was and Had Burned with Hellfire.

The undead creatures they all together were sent to seek and investigate and put down, to put it most plainly, were sending his Hounds into a Gods-be-damned tizzy over territory!

Who would I be to deny them this baser display like they wouldn't be doing it in the Hells right now were they still there? At least piss faster so we can be on!

Frustration gripped him as he awaited another sniff of deathmarked log, the odor that had been swirling and strengthening the farther they had strayed from the little trekking party, and this is where they were, in scent and sight of a town, with his eyes nigh-burning, when the familiarly unholy and yet somehow so ruined screech had rang, and the undead beasts had burst forth from the trees and towards the little village. He was no saint or angel, but he was practical. Dead witnesses gave less information even if their souls were damned to the Hells. For them to owe some bit of debt to them meant he wouldn't be banished from life and vessel and, ideally, learn what exactly happened to these beasts.

"Damn them!" he called loudly, mouth a-twist with fury and rows of sharklike teeth gnashing, hands immediately flying to the quick releases on both dog leads. Mephistos, the visage of a half-Steppes Malamute, half-Bloodhound, a great hairy beast, clad in a hefty black leather collar, etched with runes and studded with silver and iron spikes as one might put upon a bear-dog, rumbled with a great baying. Iblis, the visage of a shorthaired Borzoi, slim and quick and daring, with it's own much more tame runed and polished red collar, more for distraction and support than head-on attacks, howled clearly.

The beasts burst forth, not any more swift than the breeds they resemble, but certainly forces of their own, with their own separate, cleaner stenches of Hellsfire and Bringing Of Demise. They were no undead, for they were true Hounds of Hell, and commanded no love or care for the shells of What Once Was in their boiling hearts and gnashing jaws.

Bunnie followed swift suit, running after them with the quickness of a cat prepared to dash its claws against a fouled rodent and bring about a bitter end. Neither he nor the Hounds payed mind to the holy group, for there was always some twist of fate or uncharted gap through which to squeeze in the name of life against the wishes of the Upper Divine, nor did they look to the other Devils present. That would come later.

Mephistos set itself upon an undead beast gnashing around the tiny window of a building, seeking the residents inside, while Iblis played the role of baitdog, cowing and flitting and leading a pair of the foul things at Mephistos' hind around and about until they set their sights on each other for just long enough. Mephistos bays and gnashes, drawing attention, and takes the twisted thing head-on, dogging at its face while it snapped and lunged. Iblis upon return saw to snapping at its hind and dancing about in a great game of wills and feints. It turns about to guard it's rear, and Mephistos leaps, battering down upon the gnarled What Once Was and biting into it with crushing fury, causing awful shrieks to sound from the beast as Iblis aims for it's throat.

Bunnie lays trust in his Hounds as he rushes for another of the creatures, cranking the ratchet on his Assassin's Crossbow and arming a bolt with some difficulty at the speed of his travel.

"See me! Look to me!"

The creature showed no deference, whirling about and letting loose an unholy, deadened noise. This one, at least, had no will in it to bend to another Spawn. It only made Bunnie absolutely certain that he wasn't wrong in calling them What Once Was.

"Then die, you poor ruined creature."

He let his bolt fly, sending into the beast's shoulder and ripping along its haggard, half-fleshed side until it breached and stuck in the ground some distance away. He re-hung the crossbow on his hip and prepared his weighted walking stick narrowly, sending a few teeth from the beast's rotten mouth as it landed upon his chest and brought him to the ground, earning Hellish shrieks from each other.

"Hounds, to me!" He shouted, as the thing they had together dealt with fell, near-death, and at once they came rushing over while he held his cane sideways and jammed it into the beast's half-toothed maw in an attempt to prevent disastrous injury.

---

Violetta Amrita Primrose Dauner Be'sennar

 

[Garrod Arlette]

You always do this to me, Oh Bearer Mine, wailed the voice of Belephus, inside Garrod's head. Days and days and days without even a single drop of a creatures soul! And yet, the bejeweled malice bemoaned. You always expect me to help you when your little mortal body fails to see you through the perils you put yourself in. A laugh. Long and cruel and sharp as teeth of green flashed across his eye.

Garrod froze midstride. Smelled the breeze and knew the foul stench that met him with the pull of air through his nose.

You've finally sensed them then, His demon cooed with pleasure. Foul things they are, oh bearer mine, horrid things that you need not worry so much about, like the precious mortals you never let me snack upon.

Yet, there was more than the smells of the blight lands. More than brimstone and fire and pestilence too. Iron was thick on the wind. So, the hunter of monsters knelt low, and drew out his great sword from its sheath upon his back. The baying of hounds and the howl of wolves resounded through the air. And in the farther distance he could hear the whispers of screams faded by distance and obstruction.

"I didn't expect them to be so near," he said to himself as he took out a vial that bubbled and fizzled an arcane blue. He popped the cork, and choked it down.

There is much you do not expect, oh bearer mine. And Garrod could feel the knifelike smile slice across the fabric of his sanity.

Garrod's eye shimmered a cobalt blue, traced with silver. And the world around him was tinged with that same light as he saw through his one green eye.

Yet, he sensed it before he could see it. The charging hellhound that raced toward him now, fetid paws pounding against the forest floor. Garrod grit his teeth and turned and twist, knelt as he was, and lifted up his long run blade so that the creature, airborne now, skewered itself upon the point and road of the runed greatsword.

Its jaw still snapped, its eyes still burned and its spittle and slober sloughed and splashed against the swordsman's gauntlet.

Let me eat it, Garrod, please, just this one, just this once!

Garrod growled and ripped his sword upward with a fierce shout. The creature, split apart, fell to the dirt motionless. Garrod rose, and rest his ichor stained blade against his shoulder as he stared down at his work, the runes that run down the heart of his weapon aglow with a golden light, the edges of its blade danced with a feint fire's light that was quick to go out.

He snapped his fingers, and the carcass was engulfed in flames.

"Probably more where that came from," he said as he walked toward all the screaming.

Violetta Amrita Primrose Dauner Bunnie Beiderbecke Be'sennar

 

[Be'sennar]

Be'senaar shone as a beacon upon the field, whether by deed, or by magick. To any it appeared that where he stepped, the light followed. A plea had been uttered, and so he would do all he could to uphold it. These undead hounds could hurt his steed, but not him, so the Paladin would dismount and ready himself as the howls grew louder and nearer.

As he was drawn to the unholy to cleanse it, so were all unholy things drawn to him, to extinguish the light. It was for this reason he had remained outside the village, to draw the beasts away from the people. And it worked.

Using his sword to deflect and his own experience to side-step, he would begin the adventure of keeping the hounds occupied, though it appeared he would not be alone in that task. A small form had begun to lead a pack of hounds into the fray and some distance away, Be'sennar could sense a form of darkness slaughter one of the twisted beasts.

What would be most intriguing, however, would be the similar corruption that still hung about the edges of the battle. A corruption he hadn't felt since Alliria. As Be'sennar twisted, he drove the flat of his blade into the maw of one of the undead hounds to halt it's lunge. Nykios bolstered his body, gave strength to his legs as he held firm from the force.

The strain would last only a few seconds as a massive wolf crashed into the beast from the side, dragging it to the ground and tearing its putrid flesh apart until it no longer moved. With a quick glance to Be'sennar, the wolf would let loose a howl, a formal challenge to the corrupted kin now plaguing the village, before running off.

In the village, Violetta would find the three Redeemed defending the villagers. Aneirien would gather all she could find, Fel would focus on shielding them, and Anewyn would dispatch any hound foolish enough to attack.

Violetta Amrita Primrose | Dauner | Bunnie Beiderbecke | Garrod Arlette

 

[Violetta Amrita Primrose]

TW: Child death (In 'Loss'), gore, existentialism.​

I. Loss​

Violetta was almost overloaded by the number of presences that came to her aid. Something in the airs of fate was dragging a war to her front door. One of gods and devils that her nameless Falwood home would not withstand. Even with all of their help there was bound to be collateral damage from the melee. There already been.

She was mortal. Her feet only carried her so far as she sprinted towards her dead neighbors. The house belonged to Sylvanus and Pear. An elven couple who’d moved here for the sake of agriculture. She’d known them and their children. They were her friends. Sylvanus had just begun to learn how to brew his own ale. It hadn't been very good, but he was getting there. Their youngest had just started learning in the quaint school they had here in the village.

Just before she approached the home, one of the damned things was cutting her off from her destination. It was moving at least twice as fast as she was, and its rotten fangs threatened to take her arm. The fury she felt was immeasurable. Sliding the head of her axe to right above her knuckles, she punched the lunging beast with muscled rage, caving its forehead into its dead brain. The beast fell flat, and she was barely impeded by the interruption. When she reached their home, she called out,

"Sylvanus, Pear, Henrietta, Lucol! Are you in there?!"

Violetta burst through their front door and hunted for her friends in a frantic and swift manner. As she turned the corner to the bedroom, the sight that befell her was unimaginable. It wasn't worth trying to see where all the pieces of her once friends were. All it took was the sight of the tiny hand that had been separated from its body. Their youngest's, Henrietta's, hand.

She exited the bedroom in a daze. All audio of the battle became muffled. Her lip quivered and her eyes twitched. Tears approached the lids of her eyes and she put a hand to her stomach. Once she was outside again, she bent over and lost her lunch on the paved dirt. Bile made her teeth feel gritty and weak as she tried to make peace with what she'd just seen. The paladin and the three that had followed him were there doing the work she could not manage to do.

Wordlessly, she sobbed.

II. Reinforcements
​

All of a sudden, she was witness to a giant wolf that emanated demon energy destroying one of the only remaining hounds. The creature may have amazed her were it not for her current state of distress. A bolt flew from behind her, and when she turned around there was another horned individual with hounds of his own. There were more here to help her village. And she was inconsolable. She was of no use to any of them.

With this, she thought, at least the fight would be won. Only a handful of the damned things were still roaming, and it seemed that even they were growing aware of the shifting tide. At first it looked as if they would even retreat. One of the two she could see was backpedaling and snarling at one of the paladin's companions. But when it turned away, it did not run. It looked to the blinding sun and howled like a devil itself.

For a moment, there was silence.

And then came the cacophony of howls returned. All resonating from the forest.

Violetta's stinging eyes looked back towards the trees. Dots of red and white poured out from the tree line.

Another wave of the accursed things was upon them.

III. "You Will Know the Hell You've Brought Here."
​

A mortal's mind can only comprehend so much. Especially the mind of one who loved all of those who were dying here. She could barely react at first when the second wave of creatures sprinted from the forest with the intent to cause more untold carnage.

They were going to die. Even if the warriors here did not, whatever force was sending these monstrosities to her friends and family was intending to do away with the village in its entirety.

Why? Why here? Violetta knew herself to be a sinner. Even if she didn't believe in that sort of thing. For what she's done in this life to survive, or to bring justice with her own hands, she would certainly pay one day. She could easily understand why something would try and kill her.

But why the others? Those who lived here were kind and giving. They wouldn't wish harm in their darkest of nightmares. It didn't make any sense.

Violetta realized then that she hated the gods. And their demonic counterparts.

She hated their divinity to a point of boiling rage. How they were smug enough to throw this sort of thing at a place full of families, children, and love. Her tears stopped and her eyes went dark in color. She reached upward and yanked out the tie keeping her hair up.

The tiefling woman looked so tired. So brutally tired. But that is not how she felt. Hate had made its home in her heart.

The new hounds were here, and one was already upon her. Time slowed as she looked at the creature aiming to take her throat out. It did not phase her, and she stepped to the side, avoiding the bite by centimeters. The hound landed sloppily, and it took a moment to reconfigure its position.

Her dead eyes stared back at the thing.

"Ugly thing." She said, "Beast that does not belong here."

She turned to face it fully and it lunged again. It latched onto her leg, yet she did not feel the pain. She could see the blood. It just didn't faze her any longer. She calmly reached down and pulled the thing off her by its decaying ear.

She held it in front of her face as it clawed at her shirt and tried to bite at her neck.

"You have brought devastation to our door, and now you will know the hell you've brought here."

She did not yell. She was far too angry to do so.

Instead, she crashed her horns onto the face of the creature. It took six or seven blows before the things face was nothing but an indiscernible pulp. She tossed it to the ground like a discarded toy.

Violetta turned slowly to the rest of the battle. She did not run, she merely strolled.

Looking for the next thing to kill.

Be'sennar - Bunnie Beiderbecke - Dauner - Garrod Arlette ​

 

[Dauner]

Darkness and death. The pervasive sensation that had now engulfed the village. From the rooftops, Dauner could see it all. The energy of death slowly seeping from the village had become so thick, it looked like a fog. The first wave of undead beasts was almost through, but Dauner could feel it. What few undead had already been taken care of, were just a drop in the bucket. There were more, and they lay in wait, as though waiting for their master to give them a command.

The mutated wolf Dauner had let loose into the village wasn't the strongest of beasts. It had only just obtained undergone its first mutation a few days ago. It could handle one or two beasts at a time, but it wasn't ready to face a horde on its own. The demonic energy it possessed was too little to make a difference. But it had to fight on through all adversity, for its master had ordered it so.

Dauner quickly gauged the overall situation from the roof on which he sat. His wolf wasn't the only beast fighting the undead. There was someone else who had hounds with him. These hounds strangely enough gave off a stench of death. Although he had had multiple dealings with the keeper of the underworld from the plane he came from, Dauner had never been to the underworld associated with this plane. So there wasn't much he knew about it. These hounds at least looked stronger than his wolf.

Across the village, holy energy could be felt. The sources of this energy felt awfully familiar to Dauner. It was from the paladins who partook in the defense of Alliria, when the Emerald Death invaded it. He particularly didn't want to have much to do with them, seeing as there was a high chance a fight might break out. Dauner had experienced it before. What it meant to kill an important member of an organization. He'd have to fight off more members who'd come after his head, and that was too troublesome.

Aside from them, the one who caught his attention the most, was the head of the village. Seeing her break apart from witnessing her people perish brought up some memories. He, too, had been in such a position at one point in time, when he had witnessed his family, along with all the guards and servants in their employ, get massacred by an army from a bunch of jealous nobles. The powerlessness he'd felt back then. The pain he'd endured. The despair he had fallen into. These were what had unlocked the demon within him. And what had made him the man he was today.

Those were probably the feelings now resided in Violetta's heart. Out of sympathy, Dauner decided to draw his sword, and help her slay, not only the hounds, but the cause as well.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, he began to emanate darkness. A darkness so profound, that it acted like a drug for all creatures of darkness. It had an addictive effect, that made all the nearby undead race to him, while fighting each other, just so they could get a taste of him. But Dauner had something else in mind.

His sword rapidly got engulfed in a thick wave of demonic energy. It was thick to the point where it materialized, becoming visible to the common man. One wave of the sword, and many an undead hound would fall, parts of their bodies, and the very darkness that reanimated them, devoured by the energy Dauner struck them with. But his sword, too, would shatter after that. What followed, was Dauner fighting the rest of them with his fists, despite still having a sword, wrapped in a white cloth, hanging on his back.

Even so, he would have little trouble killing the beasts. Each of his punches and kicks, flew faster than a bullet, and hit harder than a sledgehammer. With each punch he threw, an undead fell, and his body and clothes got pieces of flesh sticking all over them.

---

Violetta Amrita Primrose | Be'sennar | Bunnie Beiderbecke | Garrod Arlette​

 

[Garrod Arlette]

A pull, otherworldly. It pulsed through his arm, a jolt up to his shoulder that stabbed through his flesh and down into his bone. He felt the fibers of his muscles wriggle and shake and writhe as if his whole arm were a snake with a mind of its own.

Belephus laughed. Fool. FOOL! The sealed demon cried out from within the monster hunter's mind and his arm stilled. You cannot command me. Garrod clenched his gauntleted arm into a trembling fist, his breathing heavy.

Something had changed in the air, he was not sure what, but the smell of it. As if a wave of copper tinged seas had rushed across the forest floor. Sulphur and baser scents swirled and roiled and seemed to storm. And all he could do was breath, in and out, in and out.

Garrod adjust his grip upon his blade with a long exhaled breath from his lips as his ears filled with the sound of gnashing and tearing and growling and biting that poured out from whatever lied ahead.

He thinks himself a king, oh bearer mine, a being of unmatchable power! The laugh that erupted was harsh and cruel, like nails scraped against slate. How small this world is, how insignificant, and how joyous it is when others think themselves so...LARGE.

Through gritted teeth, the swordsman pressed on. As he drew nearer to the sounds. Hounds lay torn asunder beside villagers ripped apart, red splashed and sprayed and pooled One creature, fiendish, sensed him, its fetid head turned so that its oozing eyes could see him. Low rumbles and growls and harsh barks that shook the air with a magmatic heat.

So come the greatsword, its narrowed point aimed down, its long run of steel held out to as both hands came to hold the weapon's hilt, and the monster hunter widened his stance. Each pull of his lungs filled with the scent of death, and the scent of suffering. His ears filled with screams and shouts and roars.

Let me handle this, Oh bearer mine, your heart is weary and your mind is strained. Garrod could feel the demon's impish grin. It will not take long, I assure you.

Another dog appeared from the tree line. It grumbled and growled and barked. Both creatures broke forward. One from his left flank, the other head on. Garrod charged forward first with a shout, a feint thrust, and the creature weaved, but a dig of the heel and twist of the waist saw his arms pull strong. The blade hacked into the side of the monster, cut it near in two.

Th other thing still charged. He could hear it. Had kept its timing in mind. He let go of his stuck in blade, and rolled back and away. The monster leapt up and crashed into the corpse of its fallen kin. It was quick to get up and shook the stun of the crash off as Garrod got up to his feet and drew his shortsword from its sheath at his hip. The hellhound got onto all fours and growled and snapped and barked its warning.

Garrod let out a shout. A roar. A challenge of his own and the hellhound trot forward, and lunged for him. Two bodies crashed, and the hellhounds mass knocked Garrod back onto the floor. Its jaw had locked onto something white.

Boney spine pinched through sickly flesh, and the demon dog, undead, welped in pain. Let go of Garrod and whimpered away.

Sickly green shimmered across Belephus, that bone white gauntlet upon Garrod's arm, and so too did that green shimmer across the Hellhound, who wobbled in its step and fell to the ground, hard and without strength.

"Fuck me," Garrod whispered beneath his breath.

Yes, perfect. Exactly what I needed. Belephus snickered. Just a little snack to tide me over. The opal jewel that was the gauntlet's eye gleamed, and shined and it was pleased. Don't worry, oh bearer mine, I will see you through this.

Up went the swordsman, and he strode toward his sword and yanked it out of the first dog with a squelch, his eye saw the center of the shitstorm. "What in the hells is going on here," he asked himself in disbelief.

Bunnie Beiderbecke Be'sennar Violetta Amrita Primrose Dauner

 

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

Those holy emissaries, flagrant in their displays as many holy emissaries tended to be, ran through hound after hound as though they were godlike in their own contradictory way.

You little shining light people, and your calls-upon!

The scent of another demon, pair of demons -though they smelled just as different, just as off as the undead hounds -rose, as they too joined the fight against What Once Was.

Where are you fro-?

Bunnie's internal question was cut off with a Hellish shout of pain and anguish, as the beast above him tore his clothes and raked red, raw stripes into his pale flesh, working it's legs like it was trying to swim.

Mephistos and Iblis dove bodily on the creature, sinking their teeth into the beast and battering it down with their combined weight. The thing yowled and screamed and snarled viciously as the meat was torns asunder from the bones and it's life force, what little it had, left similarly.

Bunnie half-drops his cane on top of himself, foaming at the mouth in pain as he rolls over onto his side and curls inwardly. The blood on his hands from his belly was less than he'd expected, but it hurt no less than it had before he assured himself he wasn't about to exsanguinate. It would be a worthless death.

"Sick damnable puppies!" he hisses, spittle flying, pupils thin as a pencil line, and wrestles up to his feet, cane retrieved, to sling another haymaking blow at another rushing hound, knocking it clean off the ground from the force, and siccing his duo on it to watch their work.

A woman's voice, Hellish in it's own right, broke out. It was not loud. It was not a shout. It wasn't anguish and blooded rage and pain in the way Bunnie's voice was. It was barely loud enough for Bunnie to hear over the din, and it spoke of a depth that reached the flames and embraced them in it's anger.

Bunnie looked in the direction his bolt had flown and spotted her, running axe-blow after axe-blow through the hounds that came after her with dangerous, impressive ease. Her blood was not completely from the depths, it seemed, but her pain... He runs a filth-covered hand through his disheveled hair and walks with some stilted, painful measure of cool in her direction, gnash of pointed teeth grinding over any words he might've said in the Human gesture of placation he'd picked up from being around so many mortals.

There is no taming this, if it isn't what she wants.

And then sickness washed out. The taste of the bile in his throat mingling with the odor of some Hellish facsimile of nectar called of the same difference, "offness," that the two new souls called out. He stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder at the display of seemingly effortless anarchy that the man with the sword meted out as though he bent the rules of reality in this realm, an impossible task.

Iblis whines loudly, tail tucked low as it crawls away from the demonic swordsman. One, untempted. Mephistos bays, salivating and spitting and sneezing to get the taste of undeath from it's mouth as it places itself bodily behind Bunnie, between him and the swordsman, nudging at him to keep going. Two, untempted.

"Wretched, wretched. You know not what you do. You know not what you do!" he growls lowly, ultimately unheard over the din of the bounding and roiling mass of undead hounds that took turns in temptation and in avoidance of the swordsman.

He looks away with some small bit of difficulty, and continues towards Violetta with renewed swiftness, head cocked slightly and cane held at the ready to bash a hound going for the woman, as another smell of the Hells joins the rest, feeling familiar to Bunnie and his Hellhounds, nigh comforting. Three, untempted.

At least there are more demons of this realm here. I would hate to be the odd one out in this place, especially with those light-lauders.

"Watch your right!"

---

Violetta Amrita Primrose Garrod Arlette Be'sennar Dauner

 

[Violetta Amrita Primrose]

IV: Commander Violetta


Bunnie Beiderbecke​

The words ”watch your right!” were heard but went unprocessed. Violetta could hear not a thing. The hound that barreled towards her right side was barely caught by a shift in her eyes. The shot like daggers towards the vicious canine and before it could reach her it met the front of her foot in it’s gut. One downswing of the axe would split it’s head into a splintered array of rotten flesh.

With it dealt with she would look back to the demon who called to her. He’d attempted to warn her, branding Bunnie an ally.

“If you are able to fight, then do so by retrieving survivors. I would, but,”

She looked forlorn towards the battlefield. So much of it had been handled by the beings excreted more power than twenty of her. Even so, she knew it in her heart.

“I’m no good to them right now.”

Violetta was no longer herself in this fight. She could lead. She could command. But she could not protect. If this stranger was of sound mind enough to be throwing warnings of safety than he would be the only candidate for the protection of others alongside the paladins.

For she was far too gone with hatred.

Dauner​

Violetta sprinted away from Bunnie after her demand, not waiting for a response from the man. There was more to be done. More to plot, more to destroy. She came across the darkened warrior who was throwing demonic weight around. The one who’d slain several at once. Dauner was still engaged with multiple of the beasts and she gripped her axe tight, ready to assist.

The woman made of violet skin showed her might with a ferocious leap and a barbarian’s roar. Landing atop on of the few remaining that Dauner was fighting, her knee slammed it’s head straight into the ground with ease. Rising from the position, as if she was standing in the presence of a king she did not worship, her axes flew in a huge horizontal arc.

One of the monsters was met with a bifurcated end and had never seen it coming.

“You.” She did not know his name. Amidst the viscera they stood upon she found time to point towards the woods. More dogs emerging. An unending tidal wave of un death was crashing from that place. Something in the Falwood was creating these things.

“I ask that you take the fight to it’s head. Find out what is behind this. Do not show it mercy.”

Garrod Arlette ​

It was only then that she’d noticed the newcomer. He seemed just a man with a sword. No demon nor superpower protecting him from the swelling flood of nightmares. She nodded respectfully towards Dauner before taking her leave once more.

Several of the creatures were headed for the man. Their distance was far but closing fast. There, she would fight with him. If all played out, then the man of darkness would kill whatever spawned these things, or at least drive it off. And if the horned man spearheaded evacuation, then they all had a real chance of making this out alive.

She did not speak to the newcomer. There was no time. Her focus lay solely and being at his side to fight. She rose her axe to Garrod, signaling their solidarity.

 

[Tharraleos]

Seemingly from the heavens itself, a figure plummeted from the skies. Brandishing a behemoth of a dual edged blade, the unsuspecting hellhound that was its victim hadn't even a moment to process its body being bisected before perishing. From the impact of this individual landing a billow of dust was formed, mostly obscuring the sudden assault. The giant sword was forged not of steel, but instead was composed of opaque purple hardlight and glowed brightly through the debris. The other two corrupted canines that were fleeing with it could only turn to investigate the commotion before promptly meeting the same grisly fate as a duo swift and powerful slashes made quick work of them. But what seemed like the last bit of stragglers was hardly the end.

As the smoke began to settle, the airborne assailant began to be visible. While humanoid and bipedal, the features were entirely animalistic. A white feathered head rested on a khaki brown furred and well muscled body. Both of his hand paws gripped his weapon firmly as his golden irises and highly acute senses scanned the vicinity. Given his mix of feline and avian attributes, one with knowledge of such a beast would recognize him as some kind of Griffin. He had been soaring the skies through his aimless travelling and the sheer amount of malice emanating from this area was impossible to overlook. His impulsive curiosities couldn't help but investigate and if the call for battle beckoned to him, he'd gladly oblige.

Tharraleos was the designation of this creature. His curved yellow beak was subtly twisted into a grin at the opportunity for combat. The energy construct he carried had a few noticeable chunks missing, but was still overall in good shape. He'd place it over his shoulder where it would appear to hover almost magnetically over the pair of folded dark brown wings across his back. With his paws now free, he'd make his way closer to the epicenter of carnage. Those three he disposed of almost had made it fairly far from the battlefield and likely could have lived to terrorize another day. A twin set of constructs would be wielded next, this time taking the shape of pistol-like crossbows with comparable grip and firing mechanism. With his digits ready at the trigger, the beast would proceed forth.

 

[Dauner]

Dauner used demonic energy for the sole purpose of attracting all nearby undead to him. It didn't in any capacity aid in the actual fight. The reason was because Dauner sought the thrill of a challenging fight, as a means to escape his eternal boredom.

Dauner wasn't exactly the best at taking orders. The only two roles he'd ever consented to playing in large scale battles were either commander, or target. As far as taking orders was concerned, there was no worst person at it than him. He was practically unable to do so, otherwise he'd turn into a raging ball of fire, and explode. Or, more realistically, just lose his demonic powers and identity. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to take care of the source. He had already planned on taking care of it anyway.

His brief encounter with Violetta had distracted him and made him lower his guard. Taking advantage of this, one of the hounds managed to sink its teeth into his leg. Dauner punched it, shattering its skull, and getting rid of its hold on his leg. Unfortunately, as soon as he was rid of that one, more managed to accomplish the same feat. Dauner grunted in apparent pain, as teeth after teeth sank into his flesh in an attempt to rip it off his body. The hounds will soon discover that it was useless, though.

The teeth that had sunk into Dauner were now stuck, trapped by thick muscles. Dauner shook his head at the absurdity. He was a swordsman, not a brawler. And there was a sword sitting on his back. One which would make using his swordsmanship much easier. But it will also cause greater harm to the people and the surrounding land. The last time he'd drawn that sword in Segora, several miles worth of land had been corrupted, turning into a barren wasteland. Until he found the materials to perform a sealing ritual on it, he had planned on not drawing it, unless absolutely necessary.

As more hounds swarmed him, he was quickly buried beneath a mound of them. Rather than flashily exploding his energy outwards, killing them in the process, Dauner decided to go with making them become a part of his power. A wave of demonic energy gushed out, completely depleting the hounds of the dark energy that kept them moving. The energy quickly crystallized into a small dark orb. Dauner then brushed the remains of the now re-dead hounds off, quickly taking up a defensive stance to avoid a repeat of what just happened.

---

Violetta Amrita Primrose | Be'sennar | Bunnie Beiderbecke | Garrod Arlette | Tharraleos​

 

[The Herald]

Reality shivered.

Words materialized into the mind; devoid of voice, devoid of source, yet ear splitting in their intensity.

Five rules.

Dauner and a hooded figure stood alone in a void of white light. It gazed upon him. It gazed within him. The power that Dauner had absorbed from the hell hounds was ripped from him in a maelstrom of inky black, swirling and coalescing into a single point in the palm of the Herald. They closed their hand to crush it.

It was not enough.

Pay the debt.

The hand reopened, and this time the dark power was torn from Dauner’s very pores. The cost of his magic, thus far unpaid, was extracted. The lightning that coursed through him was dampened, temporarily reduced to a flicker. Reaper’s Bane quivered, shackled with the knowledge that should it ever be drawn, an appropriate price would be exacted upon its wielder.

Finally, Dauner was bound wholly to Arethil. Subject to its laws, the gift of Nihility was lost forever.

The Herald vanished and Dauner was returned to the field exhausted. It would take quite some time to recover, during which he would serve as a warning to others.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

An axe raised in salute, and a blood stained beauty, with sorrow deep in her eyes, stood with him and all those who fought against these undead dogs of hell. Garrod gave a determined nod, and his fingers regripped the long handle of his greatsword, its time-lost runes lit with a feint glow of magick as his eye found a pack of fetid beasts, trotting and slobbering as they shamble-bound towards them.

Breath pulled into his lungs, rotten and cooked and fresh, and the scent of every manner of flesh seemed to swirl in with it. His brow furrowed, his stance widened as he held his guard low, blade pointed back in the iron tail stance. The air about him swirled differently, as if cold and hot air crashed around him, and he was the eye of a storm to come.

Breath left his lungs, and his sword rose in a wicked arc. The grea-sword whirred up as he shift his hind foot forward with a pivot and twist and the winds whipped forward in a gust that slammed into the pack of slobbering mongrels. The sword's path stopped in a high guard, falcon's guard, the long road of steel raised high above the one eyed-swordsman who stepped forward as he brought the weapon down.

The wind whipped forward, turned sharp, and bisected two dogs at once. Its wake clear, a path carved by magicked gale, Garrod stepped forward once more, broke into a dash as his shoulders shift, and the side he presented to the ravenous enemies grew smaller, bone white relic there with its jagged angles and spines to catch any foe that would break toward him.

Belephus laughed all the while. A hissing and hungry thing.

Following the wind's path, Garrod moved faster than he would normally. As if unincumbered by the weight of arms and armor. The first dog to lunge for him, jaws wide and teeth bared, saw its chest caved in with a hard crunch. Bone cracked and flesh torn. Garrod ripped the blade up and through. He shout. His throat burned and he planted lead foot down, shift his grip as the thickbladed sword turned above his head and its edge angled down for a cleaving blow.

Runes most ancient turned from silver-green to baleful gold. His throat burned hotter with his breath, and he grit his teeth as his blade caught fire. Combustion. Its energy propelled the swing down harder and faster and brighter.

Down came the wash of flame crackling embers with its steel heart, and it sundered the undead hound clean through.

Only, one more clever beast flanked around. Its teeth found Garrod's leg with growl and puncturing bite. Darksteel greaves deflected some fangs, but some still found purchase in the thick flesh of his calf. Garrod growled, near fell as the beast went to shake its fat head, but crossbow bolts punched through its neck and side, and one more cracked through the spine, but as the monster hunter turned to rid himself of his newfound anchor, another beast lunged at his chest. Whole weight slammed into his plate and put him on his back.

Snapping jaws tried to gnash his face, but he had managed to raise his gauntlet up in time to hide his face and neck behind the spiny armor. Bites glanced off the top of his head, skin broke and he could feel those shallow wounds run wet as his blood poured hot and quick.

Tharraleos Bunnie Beiderbecke Dauner Violetta Amrita Primrose