Dreadlords What Lies Beneath

[Edric]

Edric tensed as Ventress stepped towards him.

He half expected she would offer some rebuke, some quick terse word about weakness or getting sloppy. Yet instead she asked a question. His eyes briefly flickered towards the woman, then he looked out towards the rest of the city.

His eyes flickered shut.

A breath entered his lungs as he began to focus, trying to see those little pinpricks of light. His frown deepened. "A dozen."

He said quietly. "Maybe a few mo-"

"You're pathetic!"​

The Forsaken shouted at the Initiates. Voice a howl of anger and rage. Wild eyes peering at the Dreadlords as his tongue lashed out.

"Puppies barking at the behest of wolves."
​

He stared at them.

"Puppets pulled along by strings. No thoughts of your own. No sense of freedom or justice. Just good little soldiers following orders."​

Teeth gnashed together.

"DIDN'T YOU HEAR HER!? DIDN'T YOU HEAR WHAT SHE SAID?"​

The Forsaken demanded.

"WEAPONS! That's all we are to them. That's all we were! Always were! That's all you are!"​

Edric stood in silence, watching as the half-breed screamed limply at the Initiates. Clawing desperately at some semblance of what freedom. The desperation in his eye was painful. The anger, the hatred, all that powerless injustice.

He could feel his chest tighten. He could feel his heart thunder in his chest.

"Go ahead. Go on groveling to your little masters. Torture me. Break me. I'm sure one day they'll give you the pat on the head you deserve."​

The Forsaken spat in Drastus' face.

Alistair Krixus | Ventress | Drastus Tal'deneshaar | Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Torturing would do nothing for them at the moment except maybe make the torturer feel good. The fact was that they were still in an unknown area and still currently outnumbered. Taking the time to torture this man would only serve his the remaining enemies time to reform. They would have better luck just killing the man and chasing after the remainders as soon as possible.

Alistair did not let the sudden emotions get to him, as he continued to remain stoic only a few feet away from the prisoner.

"Only the truly strong are free. Everyone else serves as puppets. The difference between us is that we know our puppet masters, while you do not know who is pulling your strings. Tell us who you made the deal with. They obviously betrayed you. Even in death, you can get revenge."

If Ventress was dead set on them torturing for some reason, he had no problem doing it himself. He believed he was probably a better torturer than Drastus or Evie anyways. Both of them had skills that would help the process, a truly skilled torturer had to have a passion for the science. Alistair had spent several hours studying the anatomy of the human body. He understood which nerves to target to cause the maximum amount of damage and the least amount of pain. Of course, that meant he also knew what to target for the opposite reaction.

Still, the problem remained the same. Torturing in this situation was inefficient He had faith that any of them could eventually break this man, but it would take time that he was not sure that they had.

Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar Ventress Edric

 

[Ventress]

Ventress's gaze slid away from Edric and his assessment (a dozen—manageable) and toward the lamenting Forsaken. She sneered. To think that this filth thought himself to be of appropriate station to interrupt any of them. His judgments were unworthy of consideration, and likely he thought it was terribly profound to restate what she had already said. Yes. Weapons. It was a known fact. Vel Anir would secure its place upon Arethil—it would not fall like the empires of Ages past. And for the kingdom to endure (Ventress refused to truly think of it as a Republic), it required weapons to keep it safe.

The Avian's Shadow Skull made a small movement, a tiny cocking of its head, this the nonverbal equivalent of a mildly surprised "Oh?" when the Forsaken had gnashed his teeth.

Ventress stepped back toward the fallen Forsaken. Just glowered down at him while Initiate Alistair continued to attempt plying the information from him. Whether or not he was successful, Ventress was going to torture the Forsaken anyway. Before he would be allowed to depart with his mortality, he would be made to learn his true place. For daring to attack them, his agony would be exquisite.

"Farewell, friend..." The Avian said, the tiniest touch of despondence in his rasping voice.

Ventress glanced to the vexing apparition of the Avian's grotesque face hovering over her shoulder, her face crushed tight with disapproval...and then it loosened with realization.

"What did you—" She looked back to the fallen Forsaken, and alarm shot across her visage, her next word spoken with such sharpness that broke so thoroughly from her level and cold demeanor that it seemed far more amplified that it actually was. "No!"

Too late. From within the fallen Forsaken's mouth a glow.

And then his head exploded. Blood and viscera so fine splattered all of the Initiates and Ventress herself, dotting all of them in a haphazard mess of red and white bone chips and chunks of gray matter. The Avian's Shadow Skull tittered at the Dreadlords' misfortune, and then disappeared.

Ventress. Was. Livid.

Her nostrils were flaring, her pursed lips bent in a hideous frown, her brow furrowed to jagged ridges. Nothing but murder swam in those golden eyes, and if any of the Initiates had so much as met her gaze in that moment she would have killed them.

But the moment passed. A long, long exhalation from her nose set to relaxing the fury in her expression. Calmed her down. Or so it seemed.

The true Ventress did not look back at him, but her Projection next to Professor Theldwin took a step forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. Her underwrist spike deployed, blowing out a chunk of flesh and blood as the metal burst through his other side, and retracted back into her sleeve. A pitiful series of yelps followed. She was acutely aware that Initiate Edric had only just healed him. But now this was an unsatisfactory state for the Professor to be in.

The true Ventress spoke, again without looking back at him. "Your wounds are too great for you to continue, Professor Theldwin. You will be returned to the city for your safety." Her next words were a thinly veiled warning, "If you do not act as you are instructed, you will not survive."

And then her gaze swept over the Initiates. One by one. "Initiates. This is now a military operation." It was both a lie and not; it made for a convenient pretense, but she cared not one jot about the military.

"Acknowledge that you understand."

Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

The forsaken started spewing nonsense like some melodramatic teenage drama queen that had drank too much cheap alcohol. The moment the forsaken called them puppets she began to laugh, a cruel look on her face that matched the vicious gleam in her eyes. Her petite shoulders shook as if she were giddy with joy and in a way, perhaps she was. Because to her it was clear that this forsaken thought they were being ever so wise, thought perhaps they could get through to the initiates.

And it was funny. Because the forsaken was only preaching to the choir at this point. At least in Everleigh’s case, she knew what she was. Something that would be thrown away like a dirty, crumpled up tissue when she was no longer useful.

“I think someone’s jealous that they were just discarded like the piece of shit they are.” Was all she managed to say before she was covered in gristle and viscera. With a sharp bark of a laugh she wiped the blood and mushy tissue away from her eyes and mouth before pushing her dirty bangs off and away from her forehead. What a shame she couldn’t show off and have the forsaken squeal like a pig.

When Ventress called her to attention was when Everleigh finally glanced over to the dreadlord. She discarded her needles and stood to attention, looking at Ventress. Her face was serious, a blank slate that hid the swirl of emotions that played within her gut, causing her to feel a sense of light-headedness while simultaneously also feeling extremely heavy.

“I understand.” Everleigh said with a single nod, ever diligent in front of dreadlords. And then for irony’s sake, as if to spite the dead forsaken’s and to turn their words into a bad joke, she added, “Use me however you’d like, Dreadlord Ventress.”

Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

The ugly little bastard tried to spit in his face. Thankfully, with his hand so close to the mouth and the lack of creativity, Drasts gloved hand would move to cover the likely infested maw.

But... not before the things head exploded. There was a little clean area on his person where the hand would catch the blast, but everything else was now covered in dead furry fantasy.

"Fucking gross. Cannot wait to kill them all.." his flask was pulled at the endless water was used to clean the gore from his face and hair, which he then offered it to Evie. He also couldn't help but notice the glove was still somehow clean.

Rising to his feet, his eyes would gain that ethereal glow, and slowly, the dead of the Forsaken would begin to clamber to their feet. "Either way you're helping us Asshole Fred." He muttered to the headless Forsaken.

At Ventress' word he looked her way. "Understood. Ready to be used and abused like a call girl in the Port District." Damn, he said that. Oh well, he was getting tired of these mongrel bastards.

Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Edric]

Edric had been standing far enough back that only a bit of blood splattered on his face as the Forsaken met his end. Lips thinned as he stared down at the corpse, his eyes settled on the lifeless form. A dejected, hollowness echoed in his gaze, distant from everything around the group of Anirians.

Pointless. He thought to himself, slowly turning away as Ventress took command of the situation.

They had come here ostensibly to learn, study, peer into the ancient past. All they had found was more of the darkness wrought by those who still lived. A dark bitterness crossed Edric's tongue, and he had to keep himself from cursing the whole situation as Ventress gave her commands.

He couldn't help the disgust that flickered through him. The anger at the utter waste and the memories of what had been done to him. To them. To all the others. He heard Everleigh and Drastus give their ascent. The slight mockery in their tone.

Edric glanced at them, then to Ventress.

"Understood, Dreadlord." Edric said, taking on the same flat tone he always held. Despite everything he was still an Initiate, and they were in enemy territory. Questions got people killed, now was not the time to ask them.

But neither would he play the dog.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair sighed as he looked at the bloodied stump that used to be the prisoner's head. He whispered to himself "Still a puppet until the end. Cut your strings and see how you fall." Alistair stood up from his crouch and performed a brief spell that removed the blood splatter from his face and clothes.

He looked back to Ventress giving orders and then at all the others. This was not what they had been sent down here to do. His previous goals of learning about the ancient history beneath the city had long been forgotten.

Still, there was not much he could do about it. As he had just mentioned to the current bloodstain on the floor. Only the strong are truly free. They were just initiates. None of them would question Ventress' orders, at least not until they graduated.

"Understood," Alistair responded with a curt nod as he straitened himself, now satisfied with his cleanliness.

Ventress Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric

 

[Ventress]

"Good," Ventress said curtly. "Into the Church."

The filth had attacked them here for a reason, she suspected. It was doubtful that they were awaiting their numbers or were plagued with indecision and the timing therefore happened to be coincidental. The Church was the most prominent landmark, the structure to which they were heading before the ambush occurred. If her suspicion proved true, then there was something inside the Forsaken wanted to keep them away from. Something other than the reanimated corpses Initiate Drastus called upon from within.

Ventress's Projection would begin to lead the wounded Professor back the way they had come, back on the long trek out of Vel Tenebria. She hoped the Forsaken lacked the intellect to see it as bait and like rats with their gnawing teeth would go bounding into the trap. If they killed the Professor (and she might well let them, before spawning all eleven of her Projections into the area to expunge them) then Ventress would have a very convenient report to give to the military, one that would enflame the drive to escalate action against these squatting Forsaken beneath the city. In death the Professor could have tangible value to Vel Anir.

"Search the interior," Ventress commanded. "The filth were living down here. Some, maybe, in this specific structure. They may have left an item of note behind."

Her posture had straightened now, and at last her hand dropped from her chest, the phantom pain gone. She noticed, as well, that Initiate Alistair had a spell which banished the blood from his person and immediately she felt a spark of jealousy. But this was the inappropriate place to rectify that emotion. Once the mission was over, she would have to redouble her efforts to perfect such a spell for herself. The trial and error of her dust-zapping orbs had lasted for a lengthy duration, and a number of her uniforms were ruined and small animals killed; lethality came easy for her, but utility, despite speaking of the merits to Initiate Drastus, took practice.

And Ventress entered the Church.

Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh ignored the inappropriate response from Drastus although her eye twitched. It wasn’t inappropriate because of it’s content, on any other sort of occasion, she would have laughed at such a thing. But right now? In front of a dreadlord? The revolution must have changed some things if Ventress didn’t cut out Drastus’ tongue right then and there.

Or maybe Ventress had a soft spot for that initiate? Everleigh would think it over later.

She listened to Ventress’ words and was prepared to fulfill her duties as a initiate. She didn’t look again at the headless corpse. Should’ve started torturing him instead of talking to him. So much for trying to play it nice. The poison eater looked at the church, thinking back to the undead army due to Drastus’ magic. Suddenly she sucked in air through her teeth, beginning to make her way to enter the church.

With poise she stepped over the discarded bodies, ever light on her feet and as a silent as one could be. At least, as silent as a trained killer could be. She was prepared for them to split up a bit and to search, and so she pipped up then.

“I call the far North-West corner.” The back of the church, that was where Everleigh wanted to explore the most.

Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

Rupert would direct the remaining undead to circle the entry to the church, where he stood at the doorway, ethereal eyes watching the Initiates come and go.

Before Drast entered the church, however, he would begin to stack the corpses of undead he had re-animated. He may not be able to pull their soul back to their bodies, but a stronger re-animator might. And the Forsaken could very well have one.

Once the bodies were stacked, he would take his tinder set and light them aflame the old fashioned way, keeping the husks burning away from the church itself.

His teachers had never taught him the risk of another Necromancer, that was something he remembered his father saying of their skills. It required some of the strongest Necromancers to do such a feat, but it was a risk he didn't want to take.

With that done, he entered the Church last, taking whatever section the others hadn't already taken. He just hoped there was something good to find.

Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Edric]

Edric stepped into the church, eyes flickering around them.

The professor was dragged along, still quietly blubbering about his lost limb. His attention so focused on his pain that he did not look up at the edifices around him. Dozens of statues sat within alcoves built into the wall, men and women both wearing what appeared to be armor forged from bone.

All of them were human, so far as Edric could tell, and all seemed to face the massive statue of a Dragon placed at the pinnacle of the Church itself. Edric walked over towards it, noticing the bedrolls and small campfires set up among stone pews. "Looks like some of them slept here."

Edric commented quietly, confirming Ventress' suspicion.

The Initiate slowly turned his head around the room once more, kicking over one of the bedrolls to see if there was anything of note. A small leather journal sat there, and he slowly squatted down to pick it up.

Without thinking he flipped it open, eyes flickering over the page covered in a surprisingly deft crawl.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair watched all the other trails into the cathedral before he turned and looked at the surrounding area one last time. He was the last to enter, but before he did, he pressed his hand against the outside wall of the structure and one of his runic eyes traveled down his arm and onto the wall.

Upon entering the church, he watched Evie and Drastus move off, and then Edric discover the journal. He wanted to take a look at the writings, but his eyes were drawn to the large draconic statue. It was like the statues were begging someone to go explore the statue, so he would oblige.

"I'll take the dragon."

Alistair moved toward the statute, taking out a pair of gloves to inspect the piece.

Edric Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar Ventress

 

[Ventress]

Foolishness. Who placed their confidence in beings of supposed divinity? If these "gods" and "goddesses" were as powerful as their adherents claimed, why had they not come to Arethil themselves and conquered it? The answer, Ventress surmised, was simple. Gods were an illusion, and only the delusional believed in them. Show her a believer in any of the supposed gods who could not be killed, and only then might she consider the proposition to have some merit.

If any of the Forsaken believed in the gods to whom this Church was dedicated, what good had it done them, now that they lay dead at the foot of their alleged holy place?

Ventress stopped briefly in her own observation of the Church's interior. Outside, there was a series of loud BANGS and then a loud BOOM. The sound of rubble falling and smashing on the ground. A terrified scream, cut off at its shrill crescendo. One of Ventress's Projections had found a Forsaken, blew it out of one of the stone-etched cavern homes with a volley of arcane blasts, and then had leaped down from a great height to finish the slaying with her wristblade.

"Not the one we were looking for," the true Ventress noted aloud.

Her eyes swept over the Initiates, surveying each as they searched. She noted that Initiate Edric had discovered an item which might be of some worth. But she took up a special interest in what Initiate Alistair was inspecting. The dragon statue. Emblematic of the entire fiction this building was constructed upon.

She walked up behind Alistair. Stood. Eyes slicing up the statue with visible contempt.

"Primitive," she said. "Befitting the lesser creatures from which the Forsaken are half-spawned. Dragons are merely animals. Powerful and dangerous, but animals. They should not frighten anyone anymore. What mystique is there in something you can kill?"

Maybe graduation from the Academy could be amended to something in this regard: the slaying of a dragon. Killing a fellow Initiate had been terribly easy.

Drastus Tal'deneshaar Everleigh Ebersol Edric Alistair Krixus

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh made her way to the corner that she most wished to search. Everyone seemed to split off on their own, trying to find some item of interest. The same could be said for Everleigh as she slowly brought her gaze over on the corner she had claimed for herself.

She was away from the dragon statue and were the majority of the make-shift beds were located. She noted the alcoves in the wall that held four statures in this corner. Two Everleigh registered to be mages of sorts: each held a staff and wore robes that were indicative of such a class. Although Everleigh focused more heavily on the smaller details. By the certain shapes in the staff as well as the chiseled detail in their robes, she deduced one had to be a cleric and the other a necromancer. Strange. The necromancer hardly seemed like some skeleton or decaying man which was often associated with the foul art.

The last two statues were more simple to decipher: a knight of some kind and then some sort of blacksmith. Everleigh noticed at the foot of the statues there were offerings. It wasn’t the fact that offerings bothered her, people worship whatever they wanted if they didn’t believe in themselves enough, however it was the sort of offerings that were there.

A ribbon, a wooden effigy of sorts, braided hemp, a crown of feathers. These items should’ve been found above ground, shouldn’t they? Everleigh’s gimlet gaze caught something else: a coin. She picked it up, inspecting it. Currency of Vel Anir. What was it doing underground? The face on the back of the coin she didn’t recognize. A previous monarch? She thumbed the coin, trying to make sense of the date that had eroded from being thumbed over plenty of times before.

She raised a dark brow. Interesting. And with a subtle glance over her shoulder, pocketed the coin.

Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

Drastus and Rupert would follow the stench of death, drawn to it like a moth to flame. Evie was enamored in four statues, Edric had found a book, Ali liked the dragon and Ventress was roasting him for liking the dragon.

The youngest initiate in the group would continue on past all of them. Part of the wall had been broken through by the dead he had summoned. Rupert would enter first, and Drast would follow. It would lead to a larger chamber carved into the earth and unseen from the outside.

It was a mausoleum of sorts and the pair would walk along each sarcophagus, some having been ripped open from the inside. The ethereal glow would return to Drasts eyes and Rupert would survey the remaining tombs. One by one, those within the church would hear a series of cracking stone giving way to smaller booms as the undead emerged from another two-dozen stone tombs. Within the church, each pop was followed by a blood curdling shriek.

Drast would grin before releasing a shaky breath. He would come to stop before the largest sarcophagus and frown. From the ornate appearance, its seemed this king had left nothing incomplete. "If you wouldn't mind, Rupert." He would say to his companion and the undead protector would remove his blade and inch it under the corners to slowly begin prying the cover free. With some effort, another loud crash would emerge from where Drastus had gone.

Peering in, that grin turned into a smile, as he reached in and pulled out a sword. There was no way in hell he was going to use it. Yet. But he wanted a trophy. The king was just dripping with fancy things and Drast would begin to put such things in his backpack. Rupert would have some company on the ride back to the Academy.

Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Edric]

Edric parsed through the pages of the journal, reading a tale of woe and sorrow that would have put some of the other Initiates to shame. His head slowly shook as he considered what was before him, but he said nothing to the others.

"I would not be so quick to judge, Dreadlord. The Dragon is likely an early depiction of Anirius.."​

A frown touched Edric's lips as he heard the name of the ancient Anirian god. The Professor having seemingly gathered himself enough to offer yet another lecture.

One that he paid attention to for once.

"Though Vel Tenebrius predates our humble city by some thousand years, it is from one of it's people that we take our name."​

Edric had never actually heard the story of this before. He knew of Anirius, knew that his worship had once been common hundreds of years ago, but had been stamped out before even the first Elven War. When Anirian Society had turned and become something...different.

"Whether man or god, we do not know of course, but it is thought that Anirius first walked among the Tenebrians. A pinnacle of might, representing both the dawn and the dusk. He gifted our ancesto-"​

Before he could finish speaking a loud stone racket echoed through the church as Drastus pried open a coffin.

Edric's head shot towards the opening the other Initiate had found, frowning slightly and then turning back towards the Professor as he expected the man to speak more. The now one-armed man coughed and continued.

"As I was saying, Anirius gifted our ancestors-"​

Again the Professor found himself interrupted, but this time not by Drastus, least not directly. As the wayward Initiate plucked from the ancient grave, the ground around them seemed to shake. The whole of the church quivering, the ceiling throwing off dust.

Then suddenly a massive echoing roar consumed the great all as a massive crack began to form within the earth. It splintered the church in two, tearing at the walls and ripping at the statues. Reaching out and spreading.

"NO!"​

The Professor shouted as Edric leaped back from the splintering earth, the whole of the city seeming to fall.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was busily deciphering some writing along with the dragon statute. He was managing to pick out a few words, but struggling for the most part. Ventress' comment took him away from his work as he looked back to her.

"I would mostly agree, but they were powerful for their time. People crave security and they find that in power."

He turned back to his work when the Professor mentioned Anirius, which was the breakthrough he needed. That had been the word he had been struggling with the most, but that must be what it was. So it was a statue to a primitive Anirius.

Alistair was then about to ask if Drast could keep the skeletons from screaming, as it was difficult to focus on his readings. He never got the chance when the shaking and cracking started. He quickly took a step back from the statue before yelling out.

"Drast! What did you do?!"

Edric Ventress Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar

 

[Ventress]

Ventress merely craned her head to stab at the Professor with a reproachful look. Yes, it was shameful that the namesake of the great bastion of strength that was Vel Anir was itself primitive nonsense. Yet that is what separated the Anirians of today from those of yesteryear. Initiate Alistair's assessment that people craved security was absolutely correct. Only, in the the present time, Anirians need not find the power which fostered such security in lesser creatures; humanity could stand on its own.

Any further thought on the subject, as well as any retort, was summarily interrupted when the ground abruptly sundered.

Ventress snapped her gaze to the fissure in the floor, stepping back a few more paces even though she had been sufficiently distant to begin with. Great showers of dust fell in hazy curtains down from the ceiling and walls, rubble from the cracking structure tumbling and breaking upon the rumbling ground.

"Remain vigilant," Ventress called, her hands crackling now with vicious spirals of gathering arcane magic.

It would be highly preferable if the Forsaken used this catastrophe as an opportunity to strike. Such would save her the trouble of hunting them down and seeing to their erasure.

Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh pivoted on her heel and her mauve eyes widened in dismay. From where she stood, she was most definitely going to be separated from the others. If she didn’t hurry, at least. The gaping mouth of earth had yet to reach it’s widest part if it continued, and Everleigh had leapt over greater distances before.

Not waiting to waste more time with thinking things over, the poison eater sprinted off to where the majority of the others were and jumped over the growing crack, her arms raised up and off to the side as if she were in mid-flight. She was focused on the ground in front of her, until she heard it.

A clicking sound as if someone had just shot repeatedly from a bow—

Before she even glanced over, Everleigh had positioned her arms in a X across her face and ducked her head down to protect her face and neck further; her body angling off more to the side now. If she had been a second too late, the initiate would have had half a dozen darts plowed into her face, the other half dozen flying towards her torso which thankful her leather vest with wool managed to stop.

She landed, and darted to behind a stone pew, quickly plucking the darts off from her arms before realizing it— poison. Everleigh started drooling. A new poison. One she had yet to devour.

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

No sooner had Drast begun to fill his pack full of goodies had those dastardly Forsaken begun to destroy the temple. Those clever little bastards. He had more tombs to rob, too.

Cursing he slung his bag with his rightfully liberated gains and sprinted for the opening. His undead companions ran protection around him. At the breach, a large section would drop, only to be caught by several skeletons. They would not be able to hold for long so he had to run faster than a solitary female in a lone alley with Bull.

Fortunately, they would hold long enough for him, Rupert and a least a dozen of the undead to exit before collapsing beneath the rubble. Fuck. There was now some giant earthen snickerdoodle opening before him, and this one wasn't warm and inviting like the ladies at the Lusty Leopard.

With a quick thought from him, the undead would act, launching themselves across and linking together to form a very questionable bridge for the young initiate to cross. And by the gods, he did. He ran over those dead guys like it was his day job and though some fell to their second death, he was golden.

Rupert would leap the distance and stick the landing, before taking up a defensive position near Ventress. Reaching the group with about fourteen undead, Drasts magick would swirl around him in preparation. "Those crafty little bastards. I wonder how they managed this."

Edric | Alistair Krixus | Ventress |@Everleigh Ebersol |

 

[Edric]

Edric was about to say something when the loud crack of stone cut him off.

"WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!"​

The panic denoted within the Professor's voice was one that Edric strangely shared.

For all intents and purposes his magic made him immune to most mundane methods of death. A blade to the heart would not kill him. An arrow to the throat wouldn't even slow him. But being buried beneath the remnants of a city?

Even he could not survive that. Not with the life that would be offered.

Edric scowled, and then yelled to the others. "Go!"

His voice boomed out within the church, overriding The Dreadlord's words as he grabbed the Professor by the lapel and shoved him forward. The earth itself violently shook, stone and rock splintering apart as the ancient relic began to fall to pieces.

He did not care about the Forsaken, the attacks. All he cared about was making sure they lived through this.

"Get to the bridge!" Edric called, no, demanded, of his fellows.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

It was always when things were just getting good that Alistair was yanked right out of it. He looked to Ventress and just nodded. Vigilant...yeah, he could do that.

This was all a lot like the training he use to go through at the Academy. The proctors would try to overwhelm him with visual information to confuse his eyes. It would be so bad that his eyes would bleed, day after day. This might as well have been an everyday occurrence to him.

The speed runes on his boot activated, while several eyes glowed to life on his shirt and cloak. A combination of speed and perception. It allowed Alistair to weave through the cracks and falling debris without much fear. He could even keep an eye on one or two of his teammates.

"They may be waiting at the bridge. Be ready."

That would be the ideal area for another ambush, besides the gorilla-style attacks they may take while they were making a run for it.

Edric Drastus Tal'deneshaar Ventress Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Ventress]

Ventress banished all of the Projections who were scouring the cavern-side homes for the Avian. Contemptible creature. Her original mission had been to kill Cavill, and in that trust she had been well engaged, yet now this episode with the Avian had eclipsed it entirely. In just a few short interactions with that loathsome wretch, it had become the thing which she desired to destroy more than any other creature or person.

And now was an inopportune time to pursue that goal. She couldn't risk having her Projections out in that search while the Forsaken might possibly launch another ambush on the bridge (already their was harassing fire upon Initiate Everleigh). Conservation of strength was critical, and many times what separated a living Dreadlord from a dead one. She needed to have all of her Projections ready to be summoned.

Ventress walked only as fast as she needed to, perhaps the last of them to exit the Church.

As she nearly crossed through the open portal that was the massive Church doorway, a gigantic plume of dust showered down, devouring her whole for a moment. On the other side when she emerged, her white hair, her white uniform, her fair skin, all of it had turned a shade of dull tan. She was absolutely covered in dust.

And then she opened her eyes, twin golden suns burning with lividity amidst all of the dinginess of that ancient earthen brown. She stood right where the bridge met the island of the Church, and around her was something of a killzone—if anyone or anything got within three feet of her, friend or foe, she was liable to disintegrate them, such was her ire. She was the definition of quiet anger.

A hand reached up. Wiped a line of dust from her face and around her eyes in one slow motion.

And Ventress spoke with a faux calm, talking slowly, as if each uttered word threatened to unleash that anger and that anger might well be her very own demise as well. "We will find them. And we will eradicate them."

Everleigh Ebersol Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh pulled the darts off from her vest, licking the sharp points before tossing them aside. She swallowed any bit she could get. Her self-proclaimed title of a poison eater was accurate. Casting a majority of the darts aside, she was focused on leaving the church with the others. She came up beside Drast and held up a dart in warning.

“You should be good.” She told him quickly as they exited the church, more debris being loosened and soon enough, Everleigh heard the rumble and crumble of one of the large frescoes detaching from the high walls. Glancing behind her and over to her right when she heard a shriek, only to see dark red liquid and a small luminescent hand. If Everleigh believed in karma she would have felt satisfied, but right now, if anything, she only felt a bit of disappointment in not enacting her own sort of revenge.

Ironically, despite everyone assuming that the bridge would be blocked off to them or to see a small force of forsaken, the path was eerily clear of any sort of foes. Everleigh could feel the translucent hairs standing up on the back of her neck, a anxious prickling going down her spine as she suppressed a shiver. She looked back at Ventress completely covered in dust.

“This place is falling apart, let the rocks kill them.” Everleigh said, turning forward and still making her way to the bridge. The water from before was draining, swirling in a lazy circle as if a hole had just opened up from beneath them.

Drastus Tal'deneshaar Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress

 

[Drastus Tal'deneshaar]

Drast nodded to Evie as he took a dart, for some damn reason. He licked it, naturally. Maybe there would be something residual, maybe a little hallucinations, he didn't know and he didn't care. He was ready to for a little post-theft nosh and a few questionable hallucinogenics.

Everyone was yelling run, Ventress was yelling hunt, Rupert was hungry, Drast was fiending for some liquor, and the skellies were all so unhappy. Or maybe they were, all the shrieks sounded the same. Either way, Ventress stopped suddenly after a plume of dust and Drast slid to a stop bumping the poor professor right into whatever ring of magick was encompassing Ventress and by the gods... he just watched a surprised man get incinerated.

It was a confusing time, in a quickly deconstructing place, and Drast did a little lookaround to make sure nobody was looking.. and they weren't. Whew. Hopefully.

The band continued sans one armless professor but plus a bunch of dead guys that had to be something pretty cool, right? And then Drast had a great idea. Best idea ever. Professors body was gone.. but.. there was a selection of dead and undead guys.

So, before Rupert could devour the mans soul, Drast would do something hed never tried before, he put the soul into one of the skeletons. He wasn't sure if that meant there were two souls in it or what. He just knew that Rupert picked up what he was putting down. He was upset, but his best bud definitely helped him do it.

If a skeleton could look appalled, Professor Skellington did and Drast just grinned. "Now you can say you put all your skin in the game." Boom. Double finger guns. Down fleshy bits, but up an arm? Sounds like a fair trade!

Watch out Forsaken, your shenanigans can't stop this group!

Edric Alistair Krixus Ventress Everleigh Ebersol