RP:Hunting Those That Cannot Be Saved

Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Summary: Xicotl’s thralls are on the move. Kasyr gives Krice a list of towns and villages to scout for signs of these thralls. Volunteering because he is fast and agile, he has been tasked with bringing back samples (living and dismembered) for the Guild's scientists to study.

Somewhere Near Frostmaw

Wielding a full-tang katana of ghroundium and mithril, Krice slipped from his wyvern’s saddle and plummeted to the thralls below. Remaining airborne, the green-scaled Gylworliath banked into the clouds, hiding her presence for the duration of the coming battle.

A week of travel on foot and by air had taken Krice Verta across Lythridel, south from Frostmaw and outward in all directions. He scouted the villages listed by Kasyr - and returned concise updates to the Kensai through his Guild communicator. ‘Untouched’ or ‘Razed. No survivors’. A third of the villages had fallen. Those furthest from Frostmaw had been the first to fall, indicating that Xicotl’s thralls were travelling in toward the City of War. All destroyed villages were accompanied by a nearby healed-over chasm.

Now, as he soared over Lythridel’s destroyed regions en route back to Frostmaw, Krice and Gylworliath happened upon signs of battle in a town deemed safe four days prior; plumes of smoke, fires not yet extinguished, the screams of terrified villagers. He didn’t arrive in time to save the town or its people, despite his wyvern’s aptitude for flight, but thralls blanketed the land; plenty of opportunity for him to slice and grab a few specimens for the Magical Sciences Department.

As he descended upon the writhing masses, they turned in unified retreat; not to escape, unaware of him as they were, but to return literally to their roots now that their task was complete. As with all the other villages that had been hit, this one bore a nearby chasm into which the thralls returned. Leaving his usual katana sheathed against his back, he gripped the silk-wrapped hilt of his new katana - strapped next to its older counterpart - and pulled it free as fell.

Most of the massive horde had found its way into the ground already, but hundreds still remained on the surface. Krice could see among their numbers the careless transport of human victims, dragged like sacks of waste. Aware of Xicotl’s ability to assimilate the dead into his 'army', the warrior knew that he had to stop them from collecting those bodies. Utilizing a renewed freedom of strength found during the Demon archipelago mission, Krice flicked his katana in a forward swipe; air condensed ahead of the reinforced blade and shot outward in an expanding crescent, accompanied by a resounding clap. Not only did this pocket of air slow his descent to land safely, it collided with the thralls and cleaved their bodies in two. And four. And multiples beyond.

After landing in a heavy crouch nearby, the warrior stood and took note of the garbled mess while preparing another strike; of the forty creatures felled, half of them had become clumpy piles of ash and a quarter were writhing, missing limbs but still animated. The remaining five victims had fallen where they were struck, in pieces and a little goopy around the edges but holding their form.

Some of the unscathed thralls turned toward the interloper and screeched in synchronized horror, mindlessly stumbling away from others who had completed their descent into the earth. Flexing strong fingers around his katana hilt, Krice drew his arm back and then lobbed another crescent of condensed air toward the thralls, this time at a clearer vantage point to witness the disintegration of their figures around the cleaving blow - explosions of ash. Such utter destruction of their bodies made collecting body -parts- a little more difficult.

Before the sub-herd could swamp him, Krice drew back his sword and thrust a third wind-crescent into the group; several bodies perished in ashen clouds while others fell in clumps. Only seconds into his attack, the enigma could not yet discern the differences that dictated how the thralls perished; he did not fell one more aggressively than another, or use different techniques. After taking a moment to cast a speculative glance across the matte-white surface of his new blade, he reached over a shoulder to withdraw the other katana and advanced upon the thralls still standing.

Though his left arm and its supporting musculature had facilitated the inhuman ability of compressing air into projectiles, Krice moved with indefatigable efficacy to dispatch the remaining thralls. Katanas whirring at his flanks, he cut through the aged creatures double-handed and noted, as before, that some fell solid to the earth while others scattered on the wind. Enough limbs littered the ground that he didn’t need to worry about cutting off more for collection; instead, his task now was to slay the remnants of Xicotl’s sub-horde.

Hundreds of them swarmed around the enigmatic swordsman, most falling harmlessly at the points of his katanas. He was struck intermittently by their long talon-like fingernails but the consequent scratches were only superficial; regardless, he would not be deterred. After the better part of an hour, Krice had advanced through the masses and stood now over the last still-writhing wretch. Hands and feet removed, it could do little to damage the enigma further. After wiping his katanas on the thighs of his pants, he sheathed them and then knelt on the thrall’s chest. It flailed in an attempt to kill him with its goopy stumps, hissing and screeching as it battered his body. He seemed impervious, however, and pulled the belt from his slacks to secure it under the creature’s chin over its head, clamping its mouth shut. Like this, its ability to cause anyone further harm was greatly reduced.

Surrounded by piles of rotted flesh and swirling clouds of ash, Krice whistled into the air. A moment later, Gylworliath emerged from the clouds and descended at an angle, landing nearby. The beat of her wings disturbed the soil and ash underfoot before she folded them against her back, stepping toward her rider. The warrior reached up to remove a large sack from the saddle, into which he wrestled the ‘surviving’ thrall for transport to the Magical Sciences Department. Leaving it on the ground beside his wyvern, who sniffed the tied top with great interest, the warrior retrieved a second sack and moved locally around the battlefield to collect hands, feet, and whole limbs until the sack was full.

Once the samples were secured to the saddle, Krice mounted his wyvern and took to the skies. It would be a long flight back to Frostmaw but he knew that Gylworliath could manage it in one stint.