[RP] The Plains of Torment (Open to all)

[tankcannon]

Tank's mead was almost dry, his cigar wasn't lit yet and his rump was starting to lose feeling. He was beginning to wonder how much time he could kill with his cigar when he saw a glint of light along the tree line and a few seconds later heard the echo of a pop. His curiosity renewed Tank rose from the final swift of what was honestly off season mead and swept his cigar into his pocket on the way to the edge of the balcony. The wind carried the scent of the dying trees.

Tank dropped from the balcony and landed in a small cloud of dirt that swarmed around his knees and pointed in the direction he fled towards the woods. The shadows carried Tank to the woods to find a most curious sight. An unseemingly thin brown haired man with a large black bag in tow. His lab coat said researcher. His eyes and hair said not quite a mad scientist but well on his way. Tank decided the only way to know for sure was to observe him in the cloak of darkness.  

[Azana Brown]

James dug out a small sample of soil, scooping it into what was obviously a test tube. Sliding it into a small holster on his belt, he walked onward, dragging the roller case behind him. Best to get samples from multiple areas...the toxins and salt were known to vary in concentration, depending on the intensity of the battling there.

It probably wasn't meant to be such a back-burner project, but they had been distracted so often.  

[tankcannon]

Tank watched. The shadows and the spirits within them witnessed. This was all too obviously a scientist, but of what? What was he doing out here? What purpose did he have. Tank floated amongst the shade of the moon until the scientist bent to take a sample from a small clearing surrounded by dead trees. The air was dry and that same wind blew the aroma of the forest and its two worldly occupants about. "You should be wary of what you collect." Tank began as the spirits in the dark around the clearing echoed his words. "This valley has been blessed. The very soil the source and the trees the monuments. The blood of countless thousands litter this ground. It is said that their will to live stayed in their blood and ran from their bodies. Their sheer want for life keeps the plants from prosperity. That they may never be forgotten." Tank began to circle from shadow to shadow while the spirits of the shade still repeated his words. "the eyes of many of the nameless legions are upon you. What say you for stealing their will to live...right from the sight of their death?"  

[Azana Brown]

James stood, looking around and finding no source of the strange voice. Most ordinary scientists would be spooked, or entirely skeptical, of what was going on. Luckily, he had had enough experience in metaphysical studies to find ghostly voices somewhere on his spectrum of normality.

"Well, never been talked to out here before," he said, keeping things friendly to try and show good intention. "I'd always hypothesized that the overwhelming levels of salt and demonic toxin had poisoned this land during the Cult Clash. You're telling me the fallen, their will to live is choking this area of its own life?" He folded his arms, eyes trying to follow the voice but losing it now and then. "That seems more vengeful than anything else. They died, so nothing else gets to live? There are better ways, more logical ones, to be remembered. Has anyone considered a memorial?"