Ьȴʊє Ͻ a r a v a n 🚙 🚙 🚙 (new thread!)

Favorite Character Poll Round 10!

Lucien Balthazar Mchale - Vicious hunter of humans and dragons.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Vasul Calim Shahrad - Crown Prince of Shahrazad and righteous eagle among a flock of vultures.	9.1%	[ 1 ]
Lorelei 'Ellie' Katerini - Knight Errant and Defender of Justice who will kick your butt!	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Inyri Ven - Sharp-minded beauty and budding lady of wares.	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Eriol Epheis - Mysterious man with an eye for the prize.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Total Votes:			[ 11 ]

This poll closed on November 27, 2014.
No longer accepting new votes.

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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Dragging his forearm across his forehead, he wiped away the sweat that had beaded there, leaving a smear of dirt in its wake. He bit down on his lower lip, eyes narrowing as he concentrated on the masses that were moving ever closer. A slice, and a severed arm went flying in front of his horse, spooking it. The creature reared up, and he held on tightly until the horse lowered its hooves once more. From here, he had a vantage point of what was going on. Abel was currently surrounded by a ring of burnt corpses, and he was standing in the center, waving his torch around menacingly. It was a shame that the boy didn't seem to be educated in how to use a sword properly. He'd probably be an awkward thing, wielding the blade in such a way that it could easily harm someone. Abel had a boxer's stance, bouncing from the ball of one foot to the ball of the other. Was he a man who worked better with his fists than a blade?

If so...

Rasheik urged the horse in Abel's direction, and the creature did not respond well to the demand. He did not like the smell of burnt flesh curling in his nostrils, and he did not like the dead that were littered at his feet. Rasheik sighed and urged the horse back towards the wagons, sliding off and heading out once more on foot. He ran towards the farmboy, and Abel turned, swinging the torch at him. "Careful!"

"Well, whatcha sneakin' up on m'like that fa'?" Abel frowned, then turned back to the masses.

"Your idea was a good one...thank you for helping my son,"Rasheik called over the noise. Abel replied with a curt nod and a grunt. He'd talk to Rasheik later, right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. "Here. Use this." Rasheik removed his katar, passing it to Abel. "Hold it in your fist, with the bar in your palm."

Abel took the weapon in his hand, feeling the heft of it, the weight of the blade that extended forward. He frowned, looking over at the other man, his brow furrowing. He jabbed forward quickly, eyes widening in shock when he realized he had actually pierced something. Looking up, he met the wide eyes of a shambling body, its hands moving to touch the blade where it pierced its thigh. Rasheik reached past Abel to swing his blade, lopping off the head.

A quick grin passed between the two men, and suddenly they were back to back. It had happened in so many stories they had heard before, two men fighting together to defeat the mob before them, taking them on and standing beside one another in a time of action, braving the fear together. Abel felt a surge of pride run through him, and he wondered if maybe he'd go down in history when they told about the time that Rasheik slayed the zombies of Belorner and saved the caravan.

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[Watervoir]

■ □ ■ - - Evelyn Alinari

┐

For the briefest of moments, Evelyn had the feeling of the loss of control. She had been tasked with the duty of overseeing Velius’s safety, but then he assigned her to watch over Aria. It hadn’t become an issue until he left for the gates, leaving her and Aria behind. What could Evelyn do? She couldn’t follow after him without abandoning Aria, and even if Aria accompanied her after Velius, there was no guarantee that she could look after the both of them. But the instant of dilemma soon passed. It was decided that she would remain with Aria. According to the laws of her household, her duty to protect Velius was overruled whenever he wilfully passed it onto someone else. Velius was fully aware of this when he gave her the order to watch over the seer, so whatever consequences done unto him during the time of the temporary handover would not become her responsibility in any way, shape or form. Evelyn took pride in her adherence to the family rules to the letter, especially when the majority of her kin did not.

The cloak of invisibility unsettled her a little, but she was reassured by the realization that the seer’s aura was still present and calmed by the healer’s explanation of the effect asked of by the bard. She was about to return to monitoring the campsite from her location when the woman approached, asking for her help in dispersing her potions. Evelyn looked at the spot Aria was sitting at, then towards the distance where Velius had left, before returning her gaze back to the woman. Hesitance was written all over her face. Of course, Evelyn could attempt to perform the woman’s request to her fullest, but she was unsure of how she could juggle both this task and her current, or how she could possibly turn the woman down. That was when the tattooed woman from earlier stepped in, taking the potions with a brief voicing of her intentions and leaving without another word.

“She can be trusted.” The words could have been for the other woman, but it could have also been for herself. Something was shoved into her hands and she looked down to find two bottles of the invisibility brew in her hands. “...Thank you” was managed before the woman departed to hunt down Nesa.

Rasheik had returned, storming after the boy from earlier shortly afterward. It could have been a scene that would raise a few eyebrows, but not Evelyn’s. She would take note of it, but have little concern for it. A few paces were made after the seer before she changed course, heading instead for Velius’s wagon. She had every intention of returning after the seer, and her charge’s words from earlier burned in her memory.

“Take care of our wagons please. I kind of like my current one.”

Some other things she realized: she had sensed Velius making a trip to his wagon and he didn’t have his bag with him back at the fireside. She threw the wagon door open and it was only when her gaze crossed the sight of the knapsack on the floor that it suddenly occurred to her the real reason Velius had been so concerned with keeping the vehicle intact. She reached an arm for the bag before rejoining Aria at her wagon.

“Hurry up...please.” She was tired.

└

[The Rectumbler]

"I can't say I mind your nosiness. It hasn't become too intrusive yet, and you've really only asked about things that I suppose I'm just leaving wide out there for them to be asked about. And really, without trouble, what's the fun in life?" Beck smirked, flicking at the end of one of Abe's braids, playing with it again to weave it through his fingers. "You should let me do your hair sometime." His voice was soft, and his eyes were trailing over the man's locks. It wasn't a desire to make Abe look more fabulous, but instead it was out of a desire to care for him, and to take physical care of him. With Rasheik, it was demonstrated through massages and gentle touches, but with Abe, it seemed it would be shown through the action of doing his hair.

Another kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he curled the lock of hair about Abe's ear before his hand slipped beneath the covers to settle on Abe's hip, tentatively wrapping about his waist so his fingers could trace patterns on his lower back. "I think you did well as a tiger despite your injuries. If you wanted to learn, I'm sure you could ask Rasheik. He means to teach Daniel anyway. It might be embarrassing to be shown up by a ten year old though." A little snicker was heard, and he buried his face into Abe's shoulder. "My leg is freaking killing me. I thought I could pull this off and be extremely glamorous about it. Lounge in a pile of pillows with my leg sticking out, have a few attractive men around to fan me and feed me grapes. I'd keep myself busy with some sort of hobby or other. But...this is ...not so fantastic. It's not your fault either, so don't feel bad. You're possibly the best part of this experience right now. Albeit, my rescue was beautiful too."

Having been rescued by attractive men in their skivvies had been better than a majority of his convoluted daydreams in which hot men in tiny underwear actually did descend from heaven oily and glistening with ...whatever it was. It could have been grapejuice for all he cared. The rescue had been better because it had been men he knew, and because...well, it was real. Nobody made it up, and it wasn't a memory that could be taken from him. It had actually happened. If only he could fall asleep and dream of it now...

...except he'd have to up the ante to make it even more ridiculous, and so everyone would be naked, and they'd be rescuing him from a pile of cupcakes who were going to make him ridiculously fat and bloaty. Yes, that would be quite a beautiful dream. And so, out of the blue, he asked, "What's your opinion of cupcakes?"

[Nacht s t e a m p u n k]

Watch ❅ My ✾ Arrow ❂ Fly ❃

❅ How was she still conscious? The world may never know. Some force deep within her seemed to hold her body erect enough to continue to walk and her eyes open to enough see where to walk. Bahira was her main support during this. The mare nuzzled her and let a warm breath in her face as if to encourage her on. Velius spoke to her several times, but she only ever heard enough to get the point across. She was to help them fight off the zombie freaks that were coming through the city gates and get the caravan the hell out.

Archer got on the horse, and followed the group to the gate where she mechanically helped set up the barrels of oil. Her arms was almost completely numb by now. Damn, I have to have enough energy to make one accurate shot. The idea was almost laughable to her subconscious. Even in her state, she knew that it would take a little more than a miracle to get the shot right. However, some part of her knew what was at stake.

To each barrel, she gave a small knock to hear how much oil contained. A deep thunk, thunk came out from the first several until she found one that seemed to have a more hollow sound. Lifting the lid, she saw that it was maybe a little more than halfway empty. Ripping off some of her already destroyed shirt tunic, Lucia ripped it into smaller strips and wrapped each strip around the tip of four different arrows. After dipping each arrowhead in the oil, Lucia used a small cup attached to the lid and poured it over the front barrels to a point that they would be easily flammable.

Walking back to Bahira, she gave Velius a look and said in a weak voice (which was all that she could muster at this point), "Have everyone move twenty or more feet away from here once you get all the other barrels lined up. I am expecting a good blast from this." Using some flint from her belt pouch, she lit one of the arrows. It lit so quickly, Lucia had to squint because the brightness hurt. Nocking her arrow to her bow, Lucia took a deep breath and stared down at the barrel. Pulling her drawing arm back, she had aimed for the barrel. Giving a prayer to some god, the Archer let go of the arrow. It landed on the ground a few inches away. "DAMNIT!"

Thankfully, what ever god had heard her decided to give her a little help as the flames caressed the sides of the soaked barrel and lit up. Archer let out a deep breath of relief before lighting another arrow and nocked it for another barrel. "Go ahead, set up more and I will shoot some more before I leave. I am dead on my feet if I do not rest soon, Vel."

[anais nighteyed]

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artwork by Rainxxx

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Kemun was puzzled by the bottle the woman passed to her, and she accepted it hesitantly. Knitting her brow, she lowered her eyes to the object and gingerly turned it over in her hands. The others had received the same, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She tapped her forefinger against the bottle’s side, pondering its purpose. Were they to drink its contents? The merchant reasoned she’d find out soon enough, and without another thought she put the bottle in the pocket of her robe for safekeeping. Looking up, she glanced briefly at the woman’s retreating figure. Kemun noticed she’d taken Reena’s horse, and she was relieved to see it.

Folding her arms, Kemun was quiet as she listened to Velius speak. His condition had her worried, but she couldn’t help but think that he’d earned a bruise or two after supposedly locking the woman in a burning wagon. That was all she thought about the matter. She returned to the cramped storeroom, disappearing for a moment as she fetched a barrel. Pushing it outside, she left it sitting at the top of the incline leading to the city gates. Straightening, she paused to eye the woman Velius had called Archer. She seemed weary.

Then she turned her attention to the great wood doors barring their escape, and she was suddenly businesslike as she scrutinized the gates with care. If wood harvested from dry climes had been used to build them, the gates would burn much more quickly. In contrast, the trees from her homeland were resistant to fire, for the most part. That much she knew. Thankfully, they were fortunate to be in the possession of the oils that the residents of Belorner used in their religious rituals, and that would act as a catalyst to the flames. It seemed luck was on their side.

Absentmindedly Kemun began to tug back her sleeves, and she flexed her fingers as she approached Archer. Coming to stand beside her, she reached out to touch her lightly on the shoulder, hoping to avoid startling her. “You look tired. Lean on me if your strength falters,” she told her. She flashed a reassuring half-smile. “We’re to work together on this. You can put your flint away - I’ll be your tinderbox for this evening.” She gestured at the gates. “Ready another arrow. I’ll light it for you.”

[John Van]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxӺatђeɍ Ƚȋnuʂ Ӻoωʆeɍ

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Prefer the truth? Don't we all.

There was truth in the Holy Scriptures. There was a man named Yeshu, he did extraordinary things and he died for his people. The trouble with sermons was that people tend to take every single story as salt of the earth true. When Linus worked as a scholar and translator for the church, he came across numerous documents that conflicted with the written word. In the old days, people understood the world very differently and most could not read. They also had widespread superstitions and stories that they were familiar with. In order to help ease the burden and strain of converting the non-believers the church, and even Yeshu himself, told similar stories to illustrate a much grander meaning. It was the message that was important, not the words.

True story... a truly true story. The only bare bones truth he knew was what he experienced himself...

He thought for a moment, ruffling the graying locks of hair on his head as he tried hard to remember the beginning of it all. How to start? How to progress? Ho much should he really say to a child?

"For a story like that, I'll have to talk give you a little context."

And so he began. He described the setting, a land far to the west just below the belt of trees that separated the north from the plains, and the protagonist, a man just under eighteen years of age who was lost in himself and didn't see the value in his own life or the life of his fellow man. He was an empty shell of a man with little regard of his influence or potential, instead squandering his talents by counterfeiting official documents and money for monetary gain. One day, due to his inaction, the life of a child was taken. He failed to act and was put on trail to answer for his crimes.

But instead of hanging with his business partners, he was spared. All because one man decided to help him. He never asked for help, he didn't deserve it, but none the less he was spared and was given a choice. Either rot in a cell or live a life of servitude for the people. After four long years of transcribing, translating, studying and searching the man began to feel something. It was like something was picking away inside of him, scratching at the surface until he could no take it any longer. The man felt like he needed to hold onto something, to believe in something greater than himself. He found it and the scratching stopped.

"He became a priest. He didn't know why, but he felt driven. He was no longer serving a sentence for a crime. He was living his life with purpose. He felt the need to do something greater than what he was already doing. Soon after taking his vows, he was approached by the man who saved him from the gallows. A purple sash was tied around his waist and at the end was a silver cross. Our lost man, who had spent the past four years scraping along and finally finding his purpose, was given the opportunity to carry out his purpose. And thus began his journey for the next seven years. It took seven years to complete thirty tasks. Each one a story in its own right."

⊶ • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • ⊷

Here abidith Faith, Hope and Love, these three
But the greatest of these, is Love.

[azora natashi]

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Resuia, despite the fact that they were all likely to DIE, was actually calmly listening to Velius explain the plan. She was tired of running from the Shaharazadian law, she could pick that up later, and instead tried to focus on the all important and very immediate task of running away from Belorner. Calmly. That was until the horse-business was introduced. Then she started to freak out. Funny how running away from the only home she ever knew and facing religious cannibal zombies didn’t faze her as much as an animal did. She was pretty sure that she had thus face been very clear on her dislike for horses. And now she was assigned to one of them. Life, fate and the universe: 1, Resuia: 0.

The courtesan clutched the reigns to the animal when they were handed to her like they were the last thing she would ever touch, the horse’s intelligent black eyes staring at her expectantly. She was suddenly reminded of her irrational fear all over again, despite the fact that it had yet to move. Her reaction to its presence included near hyper ventilation, sweating, darting of the eyes, an overactive sense of her surrounds and a slight nervous twitch below her right eye.

Resuia stuck close to the walls as she was told (and following Kemun closer than necessary), the darkness quelling her anxiety just a tad. In her mind she was still fending off the constant worry of hooves breaking bones while following the leader of their escape group to the storage building. There was a moment of total bliss when she dropped the leather binds that led the horse and ran into the building to help roll out vats of whatever it was that was in there. Amazing how much of the liquid could be crammed into such a tight area, though with a little brutal shoving the barrels were on their way out.

When was the last time the young woman had done any intensive, physical labor? Well, she supposed as long as they escaped alive then she will at least have time to appreciate the aching sores she will receive in her lower back. She pushed the barrels out into the street, even though Velius was being pummeled by some unknown and horribly violent woman. ‘Brute, violent women are the worst. But I guess better him then me.’ She shook her head and went to fetch another tub of the stuff that was really important. He’s got a sword, he can deal with it. And well if not then why were they following him? She didn’t mean to be so apathetic, but she was busy at the moment. The next time she exited the storeroom she saw the knockout punch the violent woman gave to Velius and was raking with guilt. “Ooooh, are you alright?” He could really take a hit.

When the potion was pushed into her hands she was still trying not the cringe at the sight of the pained man writhing on the ground. Though now that she looked at the bottle and its contents she had to stop herself from gagging, it reminded her of the potion that had rendered one of the girls back home half bald. ‘This is so not going to touch me.’ She tossed it over her shoulder and into a trash heap. Resuia took the reins in her hands again, when suddenly the leather binds were yanked from her hands and the horse dragged away by the violent women to be hooked up onto the gate opening thing. Never had she been so grateful to a brute.

Velius gave out the rest of the plan that had some incredibly helpful details that hadn’t been previously mentioned and began the wheeling process of the oil to the gates. Resuia did the same, and when the first barrel was lit in a fiery blaze, she took it as her cue to start. One step, two step, push, push and suddenly the barrel was crashing into the gates, breaking open and splattering everything with flammable oil. The measly wooden doors began to burn in glorious light and she cheered. “Yes! Direct hit!” She couldn't wait to push another one.

[Watervoir]

Ѵeȴɩus Kɩɾʈɑ
ɳoble

He nodded absentmindedly at Nesa, his attention focused on the interaction between Archer and the fair-haired woman. An approving smile laced his lips. His self-assigned objective had been simple: assemble the uncannier forces of the caravan and through a brilliant effort suffused with blood, sweat, tears, and general team work, present a display of sheer magic and manpower – excuse that, woman power – that would put any festive fireworks exhibit in shame. Breaking out of the crazed city of man-eaters was merely a pleasant side effect, its occurrence at this point seemingly assured. He hadn’t expected his plan to work so well – it just showed how valuable magic was when used correctly, and how he knew exactly the way to do it. Call him arrogant, but he’d had experience. And he knew that too.

Archer was exhausted, but she was pulling through for them nevertheless. Sometimes, it seemed as though she wasn’t human and needed no rest at all. But then again, maybe it was the threat of the cannibal apocalypse looming over their heads that gave her the power to summon her strength. “Worry not, my dear,” he answered her. “This will soon be over.” He finished with a sigh.

“Well then.” He turned to the girl enthusiastically rolling down the barrels and the other male who stood a ways from her. It wasn’t clear to him the reason the bard had chosen to join his party, and he had the notion it had to do in part with Aria, but he had decided to put a definitive conclusion on hold for the time being. After all, a performance was about to begin, a splendid one which he would replay on his drearier days in the future, for he was almost certain now that he would have one.

He followed in the girl’s footsteps, pushing a barrel down the incline and watching it shatter upon impact, breaking into a bazillion wood chips and unleashing a massive curl of smoke, flame and heat on the unfortunate gate. He chuckled. “Behold... A grand symphony is about to unfold...”Already, it was gracing his ears: the crackle of flames, the periodical thunk as another arrow made purchase into soft wood, the gentle crash of a barrel against the gates, creating a short rhythmic melodic accompaniment that would drive the piece forward.

With a wave of his hand, he gestured at the man of questionable motives to take his spot and continue his task with the barrels. Velius had another goal set in mind, and he made no hesitation to do it. Time to face the music. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his baton forward and swip. A saddened, disapproving look was on his face as he slid his sword from the man, letting him slump, dead or dying, he didn’t care, upon the dirt floor. The local had been turning away, probably to go alert his people that the gates were burning down, when Velius had caught him from behind through his torso. Talk about back stabbing, but if it wasn’t his guilty conscience that would get him back later for this, he was sure his karma would. Besides, he couldn’t have a critic ruining the show of the century put on by the most virtuosic of performers and the most brilliant of conductors.

It was almost time... time for him to move into an attaca, a direct lead into the final movement. “Nesa! We’ll hold them off. It’s time for you to work some magic.” Time...timing was everything, and it could not have fallen in at better tempo. Once the caravan came, the audience would bear witness to a glorious accelerando accompanied by a majestic crescendo. Soon afterward would be the grand finish: the majestic demise of a sturdy exit born to life by a clash of the cymbals, the dash of hooves and the clatter of wheels out of a city fortified like a fortress enforced by a roll of the timpani, and the success of freedom bodied by the cry of trumpets. In short: a masterpiece.

[artfreek]

~~~~Nesa Comec~~~~


Nesa shoved a barrel into the burning gates listening to it crash. She could feel heat of the fire wafting towards her already. The fire was bigger than she had ever seen and it would be her job to keep the flames off the caravan. She shook off her nerves though it wouldn't help her. She glanced around at the rest of the group all going their own little jobs. The woman shooting the arrows didn't look to good, but she was being helped by the pale woman who could produce a flame in her hands. Nesa was a little surprised by that, but magic was everywhere in their little group.

She shoved another barrel into the pile and the flames crackled loudly. She couldn't help, but laugh when Velius described their setting the gates a flame as a symphony. She guessed you could describe it like that, created with notes that look as though they would crash into, but when played fit together in ways you wouldn't expect. Then she realized that she was part of his symphony, she was just waiting for her cue.

Velius pulled his sword from the body and Nesa couldn't help, but stare for a second. She shook it off though reminding herself that the people wanted to kill them. Besides it was her cue, she needed to play. She skirted the flames and came to the wall. She didn't waste a second launching herself in the air to the top of the wall before leaping back to the ground. She placed herself in front the gate and thrust her hands forward. The wind whipped past her slamming into the gates with the noise of a stampede. It took only a few seconds to get the doors to open and she smiled as she saw the other side.

Her arms fell to her sides for a second before she lifted them again. She moved the air slowly in the circle trying to find balance in power. It needed to keep the flames away, but she also didn't want to launch the caravan into the air. She grimaced at the thought and concentrated more. Soon there was a gate way invisible, but for the smoke and bit bits of charred wood that swirled on its edge. The current was fast enough to whip someones hair round, but that was the worst of it's chaos.

[DEL3R1OUS_MYTH19]

A Blossom fell from off a tree...

______________...It settled softly on the lips you turned to me....

{__Magnus T. Serrata__}

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For the first time... EVER... Magnus was in a fight, and loving it.

There was a look of almost childlike glee on his face as he torched the townspeople of Belorner. Before Magnus would avoid confrontation like the plague, all of those years of getting beaten up by Giants { His Brothers } had left him a little traumatized. But now... NOW he was fearlessly stepping into the fray, the fire in his hand dancing wildly with the same glee that showed on his face. The flames shot from the torch in wide arcs in front of him catching onto the surprisingly super flammable immortality hungry Belornerers. The entire town was obsessed with living forever, and that was a gift so few were worthy of attaining { Rasheik for instance } This was simply Magnus' way of keeping the balance of the Mother's world.

Pale eyes looked around him, passing through the sea of blank faces momentarily freaking out when he noticed a lack of a very manly presence. He whipped around once. twice. THREE TIMES... and finally, there he was { Thank the Mother } Magnus had already begun to cook up wild imagings of how Abel had fallen to the zombie horde and crying out to him, but he'd been too self absorbed to even hear him. The reassurance that he was fine was comforting { He was back to back with Rasheik... All was well clearly} but soon brought on a very enlightening and suddenly terrifying realization. If Abel was way back there, then HE was way up here. by himself.

oh goddess.

As he was composing himself a sharp pain in his side snapped him back very quickly to reality. Eyes widened as he felt the warm liquid that was surely his blood trickling from the wound he now had. He turned to look at his assailant and saw a very hungry looking portly man with a steak knife and a fork. { The little porker was cheating!! No utensils in a zombie horde } The shock very quickly melted away into anger, and after that all he saw was white. The torch in his hand quivered and then exploded... Or had HE exploded? It was hard to tell. What was clear, however, was the fact that the young mage was exacting his revenge on the entire crowd in front of him. At one point it looked as if the fire whipping around him had formed into a tiger. { Probably just a trick of the eyes though }

After a brilliant display of fiery carnage the flames went out, and Magnus stood there amidst the mass of charred belornans, breathing heavily and completely unaware of his state of dress or undress as it so happened to be { It seemed that while HE was fireproof his clothes were not }. The young man smiled, looking to Abel for approval before he, much like the fire, was out... Like a light. The fiery markings on his arms glowing brightly on his skin.

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The gypsies say and I know why..._________________
_________________________________________________...A falling blossom only touches lips that lie...

[Nacht s t e a m p u n k]

Watch ❅ My ✾ Arrow ❂ Fly ❃

❅ As she had readied her next arrow, a woman with silvery hair came next to her and offered to be her lighter. Despite her foul mood which was a mix of pain and exhaustion, Lucia gave her a tight smile and allowed the woman to light her arrow. And though Velius's words were tired, Archer felt a wave of relief flow through her. She let out a heavy sigh as another arrow was let loose on the barrels, this time hitting its mark.

When the gates were fully burning to a point that Lucia could feel it as though it was next to her, she lowered her bow. Plopping onto the sandy ground, Archer let out another sigh and put a hand to her shoulder, only to pull it back with it stained with blood. Damnit. Looking around, she hoped that the caravan would come soon and that she would be able to stay in a wagon for a bit. After this day, the woman doubted that she would wake up tomorrow or the next few days from her wounds. Already her arms were shaking and sweat practically poured from her pores. Fever has returned. I am too weak to do much more.

Looking at the woman who had helped her, Lucia asked her softly, though loud enough to be heard over the crackling and popping of flames, "Where is the caravan? Are they to meet us here?"

[Freya Sauthmagl]

you are not special

you are just another pus-filled sack of flesh

if i were to cut you open you wouldn't bleed

we are all just monsters in human guise

let your soul ooze out of your pores

show me what kind of monster you are

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxЄɪɧɪεη Bɪsɧoρxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

〖 Rhett clawed his way out of the shrubbery. In the back of his throat he could still taste the acidic sting of the vomit. It burned, an unholy purge from the Rhett clawed his way out of the shrubbery. In the back of his throat he could still taste the acidic sting of the vomit. It burned, an unholy purge from the inside out. His mouth was dry. His lips were moist with clinging particles of bile. Unsteadily, and uncaring that he was now caked in three different kinds of filth, Rhett held onto the bush for support as he climbed to his feet. Sharp bits dug into the palms of his hands, his fingers.

At least now he could take a deep breath without feeling like his stomach was forcing itself up his throat. Two breaths. Three.

Satisfied, Rhett spat the taste out of his mouth. It lingered even after.

Everything had changed while he struggled with his innards. Fire blazed. There were suddenly a greater number of people squirming about the area. Faces he seemed to recall were fighting these... people off. Unwelcome visitors, come to loot the caravan's plunder? Saboteurs? Ill-wishers? Belorner did not seem to like tourists, or perhaps they didn't like wagons.

But the fire. How gloriously it crackled, lighting up the dead of night in marvelous hues of orange and gold.

Beautiful, cleansing fire.

On the topic of beauties, a particularly familiar face picked him out of the crowd (as if he could be mistaken for another) and steadily began to make her way over. Fendali held two stupid bottles. "Hm..." he heard her breathe as she neared. "Makte, this woman -- "

His attention wasn't focused on her. Behind her, someone approached. Someone Rhett neither knew nor trusted. Fendali, distracted with her stupid bottles, paid her admirer no heed. Everything suddenly snapped sharply into focus. She was in danger. Very real danger.

Without any word, Rhett lunged forward. He grabbed her wrist and tossed her (somewhat gently) behind him, putting himself between her and whomever it was that thought he would the jump on a lady. The stranger doesn't slow at the sight of the act of heroism, instead pressing forward with the same blood-fueled determination that Rhett knew all too well. But he did not plan to die in this shithole, and was not going to let Fendali meet with any unpleasant fate.

Rhett took in a single deep breath. He exhaled an unhealthy looking purple-twinged smoke, thick and gaseous, into the stranger's face. The stranger stumbled backward, shocked, but when nothing seemed to happen he recovered and made to move forward again. Stopped. Clutched at his throat and fell to the ground, choking.

Rhett smiled as he watched the stranger writhe, cough violently to expel what he had inhaled. Cough until blood trickled out of his mouth. It ran out of his nose, his ears, and eventually out of his eyes. At last, when blue tainted the natural pigment of his face and the veins bulged in his eyes, the man gurgled a last strangled cry and was still.

With one immediate threat out of the way, Rhett shifted his attention over to Fendali. Her past transgression set aside, he stomped over to her without any attempt to disguise his anger. "For the love of God, Fen! If you weren't so busy yapping I wouldn't have had to save your a**!" He glared at the bottles as if the entire encounter had been their fault. If they hadn't have been there, he wouldn't have had to --

Footsteps. Too many footsteps. More than he can rightly count. Rhett turned.

Where there was once one there was now a small mob. They lumped together in a wriggling, multi-limbed deformity of human nature, an army of ants closing in on caterpillars. Strength in numbers, after all.

"Fen... how many friends did you bring with you?" Rhett shifted his gaze from one end of the crowd to the other. He extended an arm, signaling Fendali to stay behind him, and allowed the rest of his body to relax. He couldn't kill well if he was tense, and he'd no desire to end up a bloodied mass like Fendali's admirer. Fendali shuffled around, heels crushing fallen leaves and twigs from the nearby shrubs.

"Ah..." A momentary pause. "...Many, it would seem."

His mouth stretched into something unnatural, toothy and wide. "You've gotten quite popular while you were away."

"Mm-hm..."

A slight shadow of concern passed over his face. He'd never had to kill so many at one time; would the poison spread far enough to kill the lot of them in one swoop? All he could do was try, and hope that he wouldn't be jumped if he had to take another breath.

They drew closer. Closer. So close he could almost feel their breath upon his bare skin, hot and heavy.

Rhett inhaled sharply. Expelled the poison as forcefully as he could manage.

They dropped like flies en masse. They looked so helpless and frail. Sickly. They writhed like snakes, cut in twain. Pleased with this victory, however, small, he allowed the same smile to slide across his face as a droplet of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

Victory soon turned to despair. Behind them, there were more. More than he could count. More than he could comprehend. More than he could kill. The entire city of Belorner was moving against them, and Rhett could not hope to put even a dent in such vast numbers.〗

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxɌhεϯϯ
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxЄɪhɪεn Bɪshooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

pettyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxnothing you believe matters

unsympatheticxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxif i've offended you

venomousxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxi couldn't care less

temperamentalxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxi don't owe anyone any kindness

brutalxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxi wonder if you've realized

egomaniacalxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthis is the kind of monster i am

[anais nighteyed]

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artwork by Rainxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxＫ ｅｍｕｎ
edited slightly.

Standing quite still, she hesitated to review their handiwork. Kemun fixed the gates with a hard stare, and she held her breath. Things seemed to be going along smoothly as far as she could tell, but she wasn’t sure what protection she could offer if the flames posed any danger to them. Her eyes flitted to the barrel she’d wheeled out of the storehouse herself. Deciding to add it to the blaze for good measure, she promptly nudged it with her foot, and it went tumbling down the incline. She nodded once, apparently satisfied.

Though it was barely audible over the noise around them, Archer’s voice drew her attention. The woman’s question gave her brief pause, and the merchant went to sit down beside her on the sand. “I’ll sit here for a spell.” She only planned to take a short rest before returning to her wagon. Kemun cast a sidelong glance at Archer, silently noting that she needed medical attention. “The caravan is closer than you think,” she added. “In all the confusion, I suppose it was easily missed.”

It was a much needed moment of respite. As far as fire-making went, it was rare that she ever exerted herself so much in one day, and she was left feeling humbled and fatigued. She realized, with some small amount of amusement, that she still hadn’t eaten anything at all that night. But right then, nothing was more inviting than a warm bed. If she could somehow manage to shut her eyes and dream for a fortnight, she wouldn’t complain. “I’m thinking about tea,” she admitted quietly, putting her pipe away in her pocket. The gates had been forced open, and she wanted to leave the gilded city behind. “I picked up a delicate herbal blend during my time in Westerwood, and I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. I’ll make it when morning comes.”

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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ABEL'S FABLES
Volume Two Chapter Seventy Four
...oh my!

Abel was thrilled to be back to back with a Bandit King. Every swing of his arm and the resulting thwack as it hit a skull made him feel, well, purposeful. He was good enough to watch the back of Rasheik the Bold. Not that Rasheik was exactly the most...respectable of characters. But, his reputation..the things he had done, the stories that were told...Abel was quite close to becoming the president of the man's fanclub if there wasn't one already. And if there was, he'd stage a coup and take it over.

His body moved with Rasheik's turning as he turned, stepping as he stepped, and he was keeping in perfect alignment with the man. Well, as best he could. Rasheik moved quicker, more gracefully, but he would continue to try his darndest. It felt good, and with every thonk of a skull, every broken bone made him feel like he was manly and brave. Of course, the numbers didn't seem to be decreasing at a particularly fast rate. It could take them a while to get through all of them, and as much as he hated to admit it, especially since it questioned his manliness, was beginning to feel tired.

And then, as if sensing that the procedures were going too slowly, there was a blaze of flame, searing quickly through the masses of the undead, flames lashing at the bodies, licking about them until the scent of burnt flesh and the heat became overpowering. Rasheik watched wide eyed as the flames took shape, became larger and consumed more and more. "Whoa." Abel turned to look at the bandit wide-eyed, and for a moment the two men stood looking at each other in surprise.

Grabbing Abel's wrist, Rasheik turned to pull him back towards the caravan. He could easily handle carving up as many corpses as came his way, but fire -- well, even he could burn. Of course, he stopped when he realized that the farmboy was standing there, stock still, with his jaw agape. What had Abel frozen in his tracks like that? Turning, he too found himself pausing. What the -- ? Good grief, it looked Beck would have himself a new friend. All of a sudden naked men were showing up out of the blue. "Wha's wrong with 'im? He's all....glowy. Ya ok Magnus?"

"He's also naked and standing there like he wants Beck to ravish him. Grab him and ...we'll go," Rasheik said. He had touched enough naked men for one day, now it was someone else's turn. Hesitantly, Abel peeled off his shirt, handing it to Magnus so he could gain some sort of modesty before he wrapped his arm around Magnus' wrist and pulled him in the direction of the caravan. It seemed they were about to depart.

Great balls of fire. <insert collective groan here>

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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Chapter Six

Disappointment lingered in the air as they departed from Belorner. Of course, you probably wouldn't be able to smell it over the odor of burning flesh and buildings as they crumbled to ash. Behind them, they would leave the ruin of a city, relics of a place of prosperity, or so they hoped. They didn't linger long enough to find out. Smoke choked their lungs and stung their eyes, and yet it was a small price to pay for escape. Some might even go so far as to say that it was a small price to pay for adventure, but certainly not everyone. Whereas some of the travelers were feeling the warm thrill of the afterglow from their fight, others were still feeling the lingering traces of fear.

Once they had gotten far enough from the city, they stopped for a night to rest, a smoky plume rising into the night sky, signifying the place where Belorner had once stood. In the morning, a small number group of the passengers made it known that they chose to depart. They were a motley crew composed of a priest and priestess, two travelers, a bandit, and a girl of noble blood. The scene tugged on the heartstrings of Rasheik's guard, and so she too joined them. With some provisions, they headed off over the horizon, and those who were left behind displayed mixed feelings, from the grief brought on by the loss of newly found friends to apathy at the departure of strangers.

Regardless, they had all made it out alive, and their numbers had grown larger, more people joining for the ride across the lands of Albrind. Their next destination was now uncertain with a bandit as their leader. Bethryl was supposed to be the next stop, and there the princess was to meet her prince, and yet, they didn't seem to be heading there at all. In fact, they weren't even going straight towards Bethryl, instead they were deviating south of the town. Some showed concern, the farmboy hazarding a question, but deciding that maybe it would be nice to go someplace else before going back to the place he'd come from.

The passengers spent time resting, some of them making idle chatter, others remaining silent, weary from what they had just done.

Three more days passed, and they emerged from the mountains, moving once more towards the sand dunes. There, on the horizon was a glimmer of something different, something beautiful and foreign, and at first, the travelers could not believe it was real. It had to be a mirage. It was a joke, Rasheik had fallen for a mirage. Rumblings had come from the wagons, some muttered protests and jibs through the night.

When they awoke the next morning, they felt both surprise and relief. The wagons were curled around the edge of a lush tropical grove of palm trees growing by water, sweet crisp fresh water. Could it be, their leader had brought them someplace to...relax?

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