(Story Event) Beyond the Mountain | Page 2

With new commotion, she watched, how Astor was being compared to what was probably a portrait. Concentrating on the man and woman, she felt that the situation was growing hopeless. The man was.. Grey. But the woman. ‘That colour… Didn’t it mean Lethally Dangerous?’ She listened. She listened more.

Her King’s behaviour was.. A play? She knew him. He was smart. He was very smart and had experience in darker life. She suspected he had blood on hands, she knew he could lead. He was crafty, even if he did not look it, his act often hiding depths that would then surprise enemies and allies alike. As someone who.. Had spent quite a lot of time with him, she believed to have good grasp on his character, especially the parts that flashed fleetingly. Of course she did not believe she knew everything and the game was something new so mistakes were normal.

The non reaction to curses, but a reaction to casting spell was; very telling. Even if a gasp left her lips at the brutal interruption of the spell. It was fast. Efficient. And acted as great show what would happen to others should they try to cast spells. She saw that some soldiers, dressed differently, were walking around with portraits, checking the visages… And once they went away, the soldiers were merciless. They hit. They cut. Some people died. Some fainted.

One such man had come over staring at her intently, pushing away her hair (which was matted with blood and hid her face a bit). She hissed at that, ears flattening jerking in the hold one of the soldiers had on her arm, before swaying in pain staying standing only because of the hold on her. Well, she was bit… Overplaying her injuries, but that gut wound was bleeding (hitting her health every few seconds). The man stared at her intensely, comparing her to one of the portraits (she suspected it was portrait), before rolling one paper up, giving it to the man who held her arm. “Keep that one alive.” The man said, his tone flat, no-nonsense voice and she felt a familiar yet different sensation and the gut wound stopped bleeding and then a hiss and yowl of pain left her when all arrows were pulled out.

As the man left, to inspect other Players, it was the last thing she saw before a sack was put over her head. And as she was then made to move, she tried to listen, to the talk, tried to check the map, where they were walking. The soldiers were… Rather silent. Only wisps of words here and there reached her ears. Some mention of a Noble from afar. Some mention of a kid. Much more easy to hear were the sounds the caught people were making (And, they were people, normal, not actually former soldiers people, it must be terrifying to them). She almost missed the exchange between the soldiers around her. “We got the Consort huh?”

“And a Countess.”

‘Ah Shit. They mean me don't they?’ Nobility were commanding officers and would get interrogated much more keenly than a normal foot soldier. Her being mistaken as Consort meant they might want to sue her to get to Astor, the King. Who was her... Friend (?). Perhaps her thoughts were grim, but this world already showed that it had the best and the worst that the real world had to offer and she knew rather better than most just what the worst can happen to soldiers.

She was really not looking toward reaching the destination.

(OOC: I have Asch's permission to double post. My post was too long to fit in one post)

 

All seemed well after Aden's group had gotten past the Aesir blockade. It had taken quite a bit of effort to persuade the gang of pirates to let them through the mountain without resorting to trickery nor violence. After being allowed passage through to the other side, the four of them set out to rendezvous with any other groups that have successfully gotten past the pirates as well.

The trek didn't take all that long. Aside from the difficulties of walking through snow and making certain not to fall into any hidden crevices, they managed to arrive at the designated encampment without encountering any sort of trouble. The rendezvous location was a plateau of sorts, littered by hastily set up tents and barracks as well as multiple stalls that served as commissary, blacksmithing, temporary clinics, and just about anything the adventurers need to restock supplies and prepare for the next phase of the plan.

During this moment of calm and tranquility, Aden though it best to tweak his masteries a bit since he had the points to at least invest on Luck and Wellness in order to get them up to Novice at the very least. After all, it'd be next to impossible to update them when they get themselves into a battle later on. Besides, this seemingly miniscule investment might end up inadvertently saving his hide as opposed to just leaving these at Beginner.

He knew he made the right decision when a hails of arrows were launched without warning towards the camp, sending waves of panic throughout all adventurers and prompting people to search for every bit of cover they could find to shield themselves from the barrage. Aden was lucky enough to have managed to dive under a wagon, though the anguished screams all around him indicated that not everyone had fared relatively well as him. Of course, since he too had been caught off guard by the attack, a few arrows made their mark on Aden's body, most of which were concentrated on his back and shoulder areas as he was running away from the shower of death.

Although he was certain that his Aeromancy would have proven just as useful in protecting himself at the very least from the ambush, he didn't like the idea of using his skills against enemies whose identity/ies he couldn't comprehend at the moment. Knowledge, in itself, is a powerful weapon, and carelessly giving away knowledge would be synonymous to giving the enemy the tools to beat the shit out of you. Seeing as he didn't instantly die from the ambush, he knew that the trade off, momentary pain in exchange for priceless information, was well worth it.

When the volley of arrows finally ceased, Aden quickly got out from his hiding spot, and equipped his bow. Upon looking at the wagon, it looked less like a reliable source of transportation, and more like a pin cushion, or a hedgehog with all the arrows embedded on it. Almost as quickly as the arrow shower ceased, the sound of an approaching army gradually filled the area.

Most of the adventurers' eyes lit up with hope and relief when they saw the Falderen crest on the flags of the approaching army but Aden could easily tell that something was off. The timing of these chain of events since far too... convenient, and from the get-go, meeting with the army of someone who supposedly held nothing but contempt towards you is a strange move on its own. His fears were realized when he witnessed what happened to one foolish adventurer who, overcome by elation at the sight of what he thought was allies, ran towards the Faldereni Army, only to be shot in the throat by a crossbow, captured, and barely kept alive by crude healing magic.

Some adventurers tried to put up a fight when they realized that the people whom they thought as allies and reinforcements, were now flanking them from all sides and pressuring them with a pincer formation. Aden was not one of such people. With the numbers heavily stacked against them, there was no use wasting time and energy repelling such an overwhelming force. The way he saw it, the path of least resistance was the most optimal coarse of action he could take at the moment as there would certainly be plenty of opportunities to turn this whole thing around in a more advantageous time. Besides, surely those that didn't put up a fight would get treated better than those who acted in defiance, right?

Wrong. Everyone was subjected to varying amounts of pain when the Falderen army had completely restrained all the adventurers. As expected, those who acted in defiance had it way worse, but everyone else wasn't safe from the torture methods the soldiers indiscriminately inflicted to the adventurers. Even as one of the soldiers was cracking a whip against Aden's back, the remorseful look of the First Mate his group had bargained with not too long ago filled his thoughts along with the pain of leather hitting flesh.

When the torture finally stopped, a burlap sack was placed on the red haired archer's head before he was forced to move by the soldiers. Only the Elysid would know where in the world these turncoats were taking them but after what they experienced just now, it could only get worse from here on out.

 

Gray clouds loomed above, always present on days when Cain went on trips, always present on days when he planned on going on a quest of any sort. Always present when something was going down. The heavy clouds that promised him an encounter with a certain forest child. The heavy rains when they chased down a player killer in the bloodied depths of Norfova. The premature night brought forth during the fight against Fletcher and his pets. His first encounter with Harveste and her stories of Azog, the heroic tale that truly got him interested in how everything panned out in this world. So many strange and wonderful and climatic events had been heralded by weather, and now that he found himself here, back against cold stone, dark eyes blearily looking up to a gray, gray sky…

Drunk and happy as he was, Cain wasn’t prepared when the skies darkened further, a flight of arrows arcing over the sky before falling down on the group of adventurers. The heaviest sort of rain around. Blinking at their descent, the muse barely had time to tuck in and shield his head before barbed tips scattered against the riverbanks around him. In that same tucked in position, he leapt up to his feet, an arcane spark in his eyes as a purple-tinged barrier rose up, blossoming above him like a budding flower, shielding the area around him. But so many were already paralyzed by pain, bolts digging into their flesh, and Cain didn’t have the leeway to heal them while casting an arcane spell. Distance. He needed distance. A teleport.

His body shimmered, more energy burnt up as it coursed out of his dragon veins like spewing lava, the translucent barrier creaking underneath the weight of the arrows. A leap, to the ot-

Before the midnight-haired muse’s body fully phase shifted, the attack stopped, and an aria of healing slipped out of Cain’s mouth as easily as breathing, musical light seeping into the bodies of the injured and bloodied. It wouldn’t last long, however. Peace never lasted long, not after…

There they were. The rumbling of a war beat, the steps of men that were here for battle, not rescue. If their ambushers weren’t rushing them in this moment of weakness, then it was clear, oh so clear, what the Falderen army had come here for. The original reason for the adventurers not to come in large groups, after all, was because the Aesir had blocked off the routes. The predictable reason for a nation’s army to be able to traverse these paths then, meant that they bought off the Aesir. More blood-curdling screams sounded, fellow friends, familiar faces falling all around as the attack began once again, started with an arrow that buried itself in the throat of someone he could have been friends with. And it only escalated further and further and FURTHER.

Ashiore’s head smashed against stone. Eldhi restrained by four others. Kyupin shot and beaten. Aalam crawling towards the ones that had attacked them. Aden submitting to a force beyond their abilities to handle. Surrechis, tortured into unconsciousness, dragged along like a corpse they were too lazy to carry.

The fury exponentiated, bursting in thick violent gouts as hormones flooded Cain’s mind. He had managed to remain uninjured during the entirety of the ambush. He had remained standing in the center while everyone around him was brutalized. And now, he stood as a member of the scant remnants of the Astorean expedition, face contorting violently as that arcane shield emerged once more, crossbow bolts striking and breaking against its translucent sheen.

But he couldn’t double-cast.

But a support mage was only good in groups.

But vengeful anger alone could not bring about victory.

It didn’t take long for an axe to break through the shield and a gauntleted fist to break his jaw. And from there, it was only perpetual and potent pain in man-made darkness, his arms popped out of their shoulder joints as teeth fell out of his face like candy from a machine. Cain had outed himself as a magic caster, after all, and one could never be too careful in dealing with those types.

When the fire in his heart faded, all that remained was someone too blinded by agony to think, to feel, act.

Yet, in that dark maelstrom, a small part of him continued to experience.

 

Heavy sighs escaped her lips, body and energy exhausted from fighting the Aesir raiders prior to arriving at the rendezvous. Her light blue eyes scanned the area; pleasing to the eye. Precisely, at least it had no Aesir corpses littering the ground from her bombs, that was a great start! Her arms felt sore from swinging her odd weapon of choice against people aptly trained to use weapons in combat against humans, and her mind slow from setting up so many traps at faster than normal rate, all the while making sure none would explode any of her allies and supporting them from afar. In other words, she could really use a break. Without giving much thought about meeting with any newcomer she met before, the tinker was the first to set up her tent, thanks to her expert ability with similar workings to a tent.

She observed the river run peacefully, a scenery that combined with the towering trees was worth the trouble they had to go through to reach this place. Ursula glanced up after peeking outside, her eyes noticing how the gray, heavy clouds were gone from the skies and her lips curled up in a faint smile. “Well, ain’t I lucky. I ain’t gonna have to deal with rain...” She returned inside and sat on the ground to start working on her machinery. Though her attacks and offensive moves in the mountain passage were strong, she had to waste a lot of resources to execute them. Scratching her chin, the blonde blacksmith observed the parts from her detonated traps — a few could still be used somehow, though others were completely destroyed.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of leather being torn for a brief moment. Ursula sighed in annoyance... Really? She came all the way up here, and had no problems with the thick leather pieces over her heavy armor! After her sigh, she glanced between her legs, and, much to her unknowingly twisted satisfaction saw no issues with her pants. However, her eyes revealed an arrow stuck in the ground and a chill ran down her spine when another invaded her tent with a woosh dangerously next to her right ear. “We’re under attack!” the blacksmith shouted, in hopes of communicating with the people outside. Moments later, chaos ensued and she felt helpless when her shouts quickly drowned in screams and shireks of panic and pain outside.

“Fuck, fuck! I ain’t believin’ those fuckin’ Aesirs made ‘dis place look alright just to setup a massive trap!” Ursula rolled to the ground, protecting her body using her heavy armor to the best of her ability. Even so, arrows grazed her skin in many areas, though no arrow managed to hit vitals or pierce her. The blonde stood up after the second volley of arrows, hand reaching out to her pickaxe and some makeshift parts she could use. She could hear the moaning, the suffering, and suddenly the air felt heavier again, just like every time she had to deal with people. That’s why Ursula preferred to do her business underground because, humans were a rarity down there and even her income as a guild member did not come from blacksmithing, — and thus, dealing with people — but rather, from her resource gathering skills.

The goldsmith’s heart sank as she reached outside and only then noticed how heavy her body felt or just how numb was every inch of her skin. Her blurred eyes could make several people in the distance, and judging by the blurry colors in the ground, the newcomers. “Oh goddammit…” Ursula eyed her own body for a moment to check if everything was alright and it turned out her early assessment wasn’t quite right. Her right arm, the one that Amane healed, had an arrow stuck in it and blood colored it a deep red. Her legs felt wobbly and she eventually lost consciousness from fatigue and pain.