Against the Night

[Ryan Naismith]

After Silas had found all he could, he didn't head back to the village. Instead, he found a nice, quiet place to rest out in the forest, and did so, until about an hour or so before midday. He had done this many, many times before, having waited a full twenty-four hours and some change. He remembers one time, a guard to some fort had refused to let him in, until he had seen the sun shine on his face. to which Silas told him about Noonwraiths (Ghostly creatures, typically ones that died Violent deaths right before their weddings. They haunt the local fields, and are the reason peasants stop work at midday, not, as one would expect, to get out of the sun.), to which the guard balked at letting him in at all. Silas grunted, shrugging his shoulders as he walked away. There was a monster nest nearby... But it was their problem, not his.
The Alsatian stood, dusting off his armored trousers as he headed back to the village.  He found the little camp by the notice board, clearing his throat to get everyone's attention.
"Right..." he said "I found some tracks, in a destroyed section of the forest. Thing had barged through there, and recently. at least, at about the time I had headed there."
The Alsatian shifted onto one foot, shaking off a small animal that had crawled up his leg
"Anwyways, this thing is huge. Big and heavy, with six legs. Has some sort of acid power, or at the very least, drools acid. It also had some smaller creatures, judging from the tracks I found."
"Thing had no claws either, which struck me as odd. However, I found two holes next to each other in a tree, which also means that this thing probably has stingers of some sort."
The shepherd sat, finally finished with sharing his information. He took a bowl of food, shoveling it into his mouth. It wasn't half bad, honestly. Especially for something he got for free.

[Eden-H]

Nemael began to relax when the hunter and bull of a creature returned, each settling down around the fire and taking some of the proffered food, consuming it quickly. He actually laughed, the sound coming from deep within his chest as each ate as though they had never been fed once in their lives. However, when the offer of names and origins began to crop up, every muscle in his body grew tense and his shoulders subtly rose. Even the welcome and addition of the one who called himself Camille had not brought on such a mood, instead only garnering a brief nod of agreement when he snidely remarked about masked strangers.

Swallowing hard and shuffling in place, he attempted to look as though he were merely getting comfortable again. While he moved around, he nibbled his lower lip and quickly glanced from one person to the next. Indeed they were certainly well-worn travelers, but the likelihood of them having known of where he came from was minuscule. The only threat to this that he could perceive was the hunter and Xavier, however...

No. Clearing his throat, he forced his body to relax and re-checked the minor magic that concealed any features that could never have been hidden beneath the layers of armor he wore. Once satisfied, his eyes rested on the fire as he spoke. "Nemael." Quickly he looked from the flames to the terrier and hunter. "I received similar information from an apothecary. He had tended to a survivor. As for the rumors in the tavern... What exactly did they say?" Though the shot was long, he knew there was a possibility of new information to be gained from the people he had spoken to. All they would need to do was correlate it with what they already knew to figure out whether or not it was possible.

[Cyril]

Camille looked upon the ragtag group; ears twitching as two introduced themselves, and the rest didn't follow. His gaze kept returning to Namael. Pure curiosity; only heightening at his uncomfortable gestures. Then looking back to the group, he listened to the conversations about the hound. Being mostly oblivious and one of the younger members of the camp; he waited and listened. He gathered that the hound seemed to be the leader of a pack, based on what the dog had said.
His tail swayed behind him, and he eventually sat down; legs crossed and hands within his lap. In a break of the conversation; he looked to the group and then Namael and quietly spoke what he thought of the situation.
"It sounds as if the hound is actually a leader of a pack. And that the apothecary is rather... Suspicious, to you?" He mused; tail flailing as he looked back to Xander, returning to his silence. His ears twitched as he continued to watch the gestures of the team, although keeping a quiet smile.
The talk of backgrounds felt as if he didn't need to say anything, and he didn't really want to. Daddy's benefactor and political manipulation weren't exactly things the jackal wanted people to know, and in the event someone with malicious intent heard it, it would become a problem. Even though his clothes made him look as he was, it was better if he wasn't tied to anything.

[Xavier Akafur]

"Welcome back." Xavier spoke to the returning individuals once they had all gathered around the small cooking fire he had made. "I do believe that's everyone." He added after taking quick inventory of those returning.

"For those of you that missed it, I'm Xavier." He motioned to the others. "Drake, Nemael..." He said, nodding to each man in turn. "The rest of the introductions can be made while we move. From the sound of things we don't have terribly far to travel, but I think we've gathered all the information we're going to get on short notice. Personally I would rather kill this thing before it attacks anyone else." He said, standing up and dusting off his overcoat. "Grab a bowl of food for the road if you wish." He added for those that arrived a little late.

"Also, if none of you mind, in addition to your names it would be beneficial to know what kind of combat you prefer. It can be as simple as close or long range, I would just like to know who needs to be where to be most effective when we find this thing." He motioned to the Jackal with the crossbow. "For instance I would assume our friend here would prefer to be back a good distance, as I don't see any obvious way to defend himself in close quarters."

He motioned for the two obvious trackers in the group to lead the way. "If you don't mind, gentlemen. I think we all trust your navigation." He quipped, smiling warmly to each in turn. This expression faded slowly as they (hopefully) moved ahead, and he turned to the larger portion of the group. "As for myself I am more suited to close and medium range combat. I have offensive magic, but it loses potency over distances. I would prefer to work defensively for our back line, and make sure those of you without armor are protected." He spoke loudly enough for the two trackers to hear, as well as some villagers nearby who turned their heads inquisitively as the sudden noise.

 He looked pointedly at Nemael and the newcomer. "Share as much as you are comfortable with...." Clearly he had not missed the former's discomfort, and the latter's lack of introduction.

[Drakeyboy]

Drake listened carefully to whatever information was delivered about the beast they were hunting. He sat quietly sipping away at the stew and when he finished he slid the bowl back at this time jis name was mentioned to the people who returned. As he heard it he simply raised his free hand for a quick hello. One he was satisfied with the placement he stood up and looked around his area where he sat making sure he didn't forget anything which he did he forgot his manuscript. He picked it up and followed the group as he mentioned his skill set. "I'm a mage if you couldn't tell and i can fill any role that is needed but i prefer mid to long combat. As for when i fight mages i prefer to be up close-and-personal with anti magic." He said soon after slipped his blank tome in his satchel.

[Khaki (on hiatus)]

Khaki introduced himself as such and lifted himself up from the ground into a kneeling position. He closed his eyes and began whispering the words of a prayer in his mother's language. The prayer was a relic of the past, but tradition was tradition and it brought him comfort before every fight.

Once it was over, he paused and withdrew a large strip of cloth from his bag and carefully wrapped it around his head. It was a prayer flag, delicately embroidered with many passages and hymns. He fastened it so that only his eyes and ears were exposed, leaving a thin slit through which he could see. According to his mother's family it would keep him safe in every fight. it seemed to have worked so far.

Finally ready, he stood up and walked over to the front section of the group, stopping next to the Alsatian.

"I'll stay close behind you, There's less chance that the monster will notice us that way... Well, good luck to you, friend. May the spirits protect us and lead our hands to victory!"

[Cyril]

Camille nodded to Xavier; the jackal listening slightly. While he followed the group, he listened to the various abilities of the other people and bit his lip while thinking of the way to properly explain himself. He made sure not to fall to the back; walking in the middle of the group. While he didn't feel a sudden surge of power; the jackal felt linked to the life force around him through alliance. As they spoke on positions, he waited patiently before speaking.

"I need to be in the middle of you guys to be strongest, unless we are extremely outnumbered. My offensive abilities are also better used upclose or in the middle. Provided you guys hurt or kill, I can heal. But, uh..." He stopped a bit, looking away in a fit of embarrassment. "My magic doesn't work so well if actual undead are around. Just a warning, of sorts."

He relaxed his standing while they walked; the shift in his position made his beads click against each other very slightly. At first it was a bit pleasant, but then annoying to hear. He stood more upright; making the clanking stop and soothing his patience as he watched either sides of their walk.

[Goblin Cat 😸]

 The canine gave a nod to the hybrid, at the very least acknowledging his greeting before turning to Nemael with a curious expression, “Nothing we don't already know, judging by what's been shared.” He crossed his arms, his face reflecting his dissatisfaction with his findings, “Just that it's toothy, nasty, and has killed a lot of people. You'd think it was an attraction of this town with the way people whispered about it. Some people don't think it's alone, but that's about the only thing I can figure might be useful. Wonder what they plan to do when it's dead, I wonder...” Again, his tail whipped about – either out of irritation or the need to fidget while thinking – it was hard to tell as he stood there. Even with his smaller stature, it seemed as if he could cut an imposing figure under the right circumstances.

 
It wasn't until the others began to move that he did so himself, walking near the front of the group, though not ahead of their trackers. As each member of the party spoke, the bully took the time to at least give a side glance to who was speaking, that white eye of his perhaps coming off as unnerving with how fixated its gaze was. When he was able to, he made his introduction. “Call me Mort. Or if you're feeling flowery, Mortimus Maximus.” He cracked a small smirk at the notion, speaking his full name in a sardonically posh manner. “I prefer getting up close and personal with whatever I'm fighting. I can dish out heavy hits and take a few, too.”

 

[Eden-H]

(Dammit. I accidentally removed my post instead of hitting 'modify'. Well, at least it can go a little more smoothly this time.)


Listening to the bull terrier closely, Nemael huffed out a breath that briefly stretched the fabric covering his face. "At least there is a commonality to the rumors. As for what they plan to do with the hound once it is gone... I am a mite suspicious about their intentions." For the briefest of moments, a scowl distorted the cloth. "First the apothecary and now these people treating it almost with reverence." He paused. "I wonder if they ever intended for it to be killed?"

The thought that occurred to him after his comment caused a low snarl to emit from his chest, one that he had been incapable of restraining but had still bitten back as best he could. However, he had no intention of voicing the thought and rose with the rest of the group. Following, he maintained a decent distance between himself and the party, stalking along the outer edges nearest the trackers. He gave Xavier a sidelong glance when he asked about where they felt most comfortable during combat. "I can be either melee or ranged. However, I can also aid in retreats, evasive maneuvers or getting the jump on threats through the usage of rifts." He considered his next words. "Or lure demons and spirits alike to the battlefield, though I have no control over them."

Stretching his arms over his head, his wings flared out and trembled softly. Bringing both back down and in, he only then decided to glance back to make sure no one was too close. At the same time he managed to see Khaki slipping some sort of cloth over his skull while he murmured under breath. Curiosity flared and his initial intention to ask nothing backfired. "What is that for?"

[Khaki (on hiatus)]

Khaki turned around as soon as the question was asked. The cloth was tight and somewhat muffled his voice slightly but it felt warm and had little impact of his visibility.

"It's too keep me safe... It is a prayer flag, inscribed with passages and prayers of a old language and an even older religion, my ancestors used to wear them before going into battle. It shows that our cause is just and noble and deserves the support of the spirits... whether you believe that is up to you, but i like to think that it has helped me survive this long."

Khaki paused for a few moments and withdrew a small vial of poison and let a single drop fall onto the tip of his steel arrow and let it dry.

"what do you think? do you believe that we'll make it?"

[Xavier Akafur]

As they walked Xavier's expression shifted to a more neutral one, his ears perked as he attentively listened to everyone share a small bit about their combat abilities. Thus far it seemed as though they may be a bit heavy on the back line, with only himself and Mort to take the front. However, the armored man out in the lead had yet to speak up, and based on his gear he was likely to prefer close combat.

"I think we'll manage." He chimed in after they had been walking for some time. The treeline loomed just a few yards ahead of them, and Xavier scanned the edge of the forest dubiously, as if he expected the beast to jump out of the trees right then and there. He turned to Mort, flashing a smile. "I think you're going to have a lot of projectiles flying over your shoulders, so just keep that in mind. I'll likely be back here trying to keep enemies off of the mages and archers, but just yell if you need me up front." He winked and raised a paw, clenching his fingers into a fist. His paw sparked to life with an unnatural flame for a moment, flickering orange under the shade of the trees, as if he had lit himself on fire. The magic faded just as quickly as it had appeared, and the hybrid let his paw drop back down to his side. "I'd like to get a few hits in on the big one, for good measure."

His attention shifted up front. "How far out here did you find the tracks?" He asked.

[Ryan Naismith]

From the composition of Silas' gear, from his heavy armor to the two swords on his back, it was quite obvious what sort of position in the line he would prefer. Plus, if they knew anything about Vorsords, they would know that each and every one of them are some of the most skilled swordsmen in the land. Once the man with the colorful clothes spoke directly to him, the Vorsord simply let out a grunt
"Not too far." He said, deciding that now would be a good time as ever to draw his sword, pulling the silver thing out of its sheath with a metal on metal hiss. The Masterfully crafted blade also had smallish runes along the fuller, which gave off a faint, orange glow. They were Dazhborg runes each of them gave the Vorsord a small chance to set anything he cut on fire, for a short duration. True, it wasn't the hottest of fires, but a fire was a fire, and it burned things.
Soon enough, they came upon the section of ruined forest that Silas had seen earlier. Destroyed was the best word the Vorsord had for it; stumps of trees everywhere, fallen logs, and huge pawprints at somewhat irregular intervals.

[Eden-H]

Nemael smiled thinly as Khaki gave his explanation. "Through my experiences with... them, I am inclined to say it is likely. That and skill on your part." Turning his gaze away from the jackal, he unerringly stared forward as they continued to walk, the question posited by Khaki heard but never responded to. His mind had shifted gears, no longer resting in the present moment. Instead it grappled with the past and his experiences with what the Kuar had always called the Shift. He considered the entities he had seen in the realm and how they presented themselves there, then how they appeared as vastly different creatures once they stepped into the Ereworld. Although his response came out as positive reinforcement, what he truly felt about the spirits that resided there was anything but kind.

Swallowing hard, he snapped back to reality when the hunter finally spoke and the environment changed. Here they were no longer within the shadowed beauty of the woods. Instead they were greeted by pure devastation, the ruins of trees faintly crunching underfoot and massive prints nearly swallowing anyone who stumbled into them. Glancing away from the ruin, he couldn't help the minuscule grin that came to his lips. Delight danced on the tip of his forked tongue and his eyes flashed amusement, every muscle in his body suddenly relaxing and causing his wings to droop notably. He knew if they considered his sudden change in stance they may think he was lulled into a peaceful calm by the inevitable battle they faced or the draw of combat, but the truth was one that was far simpler; one he wouldn't care to elaborate on if asked.

Taking a few paces ahead of whoever stood behind him, he dropped the magic that concealed his spiked, white tail while simultaneously drawing on the energies of the Shift. Within his hand formed the memory of an ethereal leaf blade, purposefully chosen for the adversary they were to face. If the rumors of it spitting or drooling acid turned out to be true, as well as it being furless, the slicing capabilities of the weapon would be useful. However if any of their information was a partial truth, especially in regards to the thickness of the creatures hide, he would immediately dismiss the weapon and fall back to using the scythe-like tip of his tail when it came to grappling range. As it was, he would be incapable of retrieving the memory of another weapon through the energies of the Shift for a time since this one had been summoned. Comparatively speaking, it was harder to keep them stable and in this reality when put against simpler items, such as torches. Of course, there were numerous other risks that came with bringing it into the Ereworld; though none of them were related to summoning the weapon in the first place. Or, rather, not directly.

Resting his tail relatively low to the ground, he mentally and physically prepared for the possibility of needing to fall back on using his rifts to give their melee combatants a better advantage over the massive beast and its minions. He also focused on the consequences of what would happen to him if his ingrained concentration or stamina was torn away. After all, the veil he created in his mind was the one thing that prevented him from solely seeing into the Shift. Losing it would make him completely useless to the party.

[Cyril]

The jackal watched Nemael and Silas both prepare their guard as they entered the demolished arena. His jaw hung open slightly, although he then coughed a bit and stretched himself after picking up his jaw. Since he was one of the more fragile people, he stayed back. But due to his abilities, he had to stay close. Conflicted in mind, he just shrugged to himself and exhaled.

Camille looked around at the group, and after making sure he was quietly in the middle, moved his hands in front of him. Humming softly, he channeled some of his beads' energy to darken the area between his hands; a head sized chunk of rock-like yellow material appearing in his hands after the darkness faded. He leaned more towards the front end of the group, the chunk splitting into several smaller rocks orbiting the jackal in three vertically lined rings.

Quite normally he'd want to send them out to the front, but he also didn't want to get in the way of his teammates who probably didn't know what he was even doing. The material managed to glisten like metal, although it looked and would feel a lot less malleable than metal if touched by hand. He sighed and looked to the frontline who was looking away from him, speaking rather confidently.
"I can toss them and reform them into shields; I'll try not to work against you guys, but I can only move them so quick.. I'm keeping around the front."

At the cost of being a fragile frontliner, he knew his main role was to cover up any mistakes, and deny any surprise tactics. Although, this meant that most of his gaze would be upon the melee fighters rather than the backline, or himself. He gulped quietly, hoping he'd actually have enough skill to manipulate the terrain enough to not become a burden.

[Goblin Cat 😸]

 Unlike the group behind him, the bull terrier did not take any sort of visible preparation when they happened upon the ruined section of the forest. He merely stood there, tilting his head to get a better view of the scene, still ever curious of the creature that passed through. “The thing's got no manners, I'll tell you that,” he said, casting a glance back to the others with a half grin. Despite his air of ease about the situation, he was already at work, blood hardening just in case something leaped out from the bushes to attack him. Doing so would be the equivalent of slamming headlong into a boulder a this point.

 
“If we're lucky, it'll be close and pissed off that we're in its territory,” he commented, that grin spreading further. Truth be told, he never liked to wait around and it showed with how he stepped forward into the wreckage, assuming that the others would follow. “You can't tell me the thing's not territorial with the way it's been snatching up hunters and the like as soon as they enter.” Now he spoke to no one in particular so much as he was speaking to anyone that would answer him. Then, as if his display hadn't been enough, he made a more forward move, perhaps tempting the fates, “Here boy,” he cooed, whistling into the darkness. “We've got a treat for you,” a chuckle, “Actually several, but I'm not so sure you'd like the taste.”