RP:Not What We Expected

From HollowWiki

Part of the Souls Out of Time Arc



Location: Denubyrg

Synopsis: Out of all the allies Eirik has tried to gather, the only one to show is Lanara. Though he has hired the great Murum Mors to help in the attack, everything goes awry. The covens thralls attack the town in the middle of his meeting and they put up the best defense that they can! However, Kybella, the leader of this Venturil coven, makes herself known and tears the walls down with her power! Denubyrg is leaderless and left scrambling to find the means to help its citizens!


Not What We Expected

Eirik stands amidst the golden fields of grass and wheat, just outside of the town Denubyrg - dressed as per usual in the trappings of war which he has gathered from around Lithrydel. Nearby the broad shouldered northman, stands a troop of elite warriors who have stagnated in Eborics absence. The Murum Mors, who started as thieves and cutthroats in Gualon and were saved and trained by a gladiator named Akaduis. Their phalanx tactics were put to use in the Archmosian wars where they fought for both sides for the right coin. The group itself was then passed on to a man named Hadrian who was defeated later by Eboric; who earned the right to lead them. In the late king's absence they have fallen to disuse and boredom. It’s only now that they have received payment for a job once again, and rally behind Eirik until this job is complete. “Soldiers,” the northman clamors in a deep voice before them. “We know our enemy!” They all fall to single file attention. “We’ve seen their presence in the west! We’ve felt their damage for long enough. Now we stand to strike back against them. To root them out and cleanse them from your homelands. With me you will find glory. The Mors will yet, have further songs of praise!” Without further word Eirik is confronted by a man named Constantine, a spellblade who left the steel collectective and followed behind him. “I have the reports sir.” A rolled piece of parchment is urgently handed to Eirik. “Let's have a look shall we?” The town in the background continues as normal, with guards patrolling their high white stone walls. A search and seize effort is still in effect at the gates for all those who seek to enter. But Eiriks eyes finish reading the report and he sighs. “Damn. Thank you Constantine.” The lycan is set to meet a few more here this day. He could only hope they actually showed up.


Lanara had received word, at the last minute, naturally, that the meeting would be held elsewhere, and not in her new home. She had covered the platters, heaping with finger foods and desserts, and shrugged into a form-fitting jacket, before slipping out the door. The elf had seen better days, as she was recently defeated in the tournament, so her gait is off, and her pace is slower than usual. The duo of dire wolves walks alongside of her, though the white wolf slinks nearer than the other, as though guarding the injured woman. Lana hears her fiancé, before she settles her gaze upon him, and she inhales sharply, watching as the group of soldiers responds to his war rally, eager to be put to work, and for an actual purpose. She knew little of their history in Venturil, though Eirik shared enough that she knew the basics. Her hands are brought into her pockets, and she walks near to the group, standing somewhat to the side, though she flashes a small smile for Constantine. He was somewhat a familiar face, and he responds with a wave, before handing a scroll to the lycan. The two discuss something she cannot hear, and as Eirik takes a glance around, she catches his eye, and gives him a curt nod. For now, she doesn’t approach him, as she’s eager to hear what he says next, and to see how she could be of use.


Eirik proffers a smile from his scarred visage to Lanara. Is she the only one to make it out here? How disappointing. The other help he had tried to acquire seemed to be a no show and such thoughts are visible upon his features. Oh Lanara would be of great use, but he did expect more of his armed associates to appear. Nevertheless he does have a mission to complete and a battle to plan. “Thanks Lanara,” he offers her a simple nod in greeting. A hand waves to the troop gathered nearby, “This is the Murum Mors.” These two might have spoken about the mors before, but now she receives a formal introduction. They are men in light armor, each equipped with spears, shields and a back up sword. “And they have a storied history as armed mercenaries. We have their help for this fight.” Without further warning Eirik turns to address the whole group as one - you know, business first as always. “Our intelligence has placed them within the plains. They’ve not moved from that home they call a complex! Their numbers have swelled as Kybella grasps at straws. Beasts, men, women and children have been enthralled by her sorcery! That’s not all, for some of these captured slaves are mages as well. They are not all cannon fodder!” His voice finds a break, and drops for a few moments to find the best words. “We’ve located the entrances to their lair. Our job will be to hit each one, and find some way to close them off. We wish to force them to find the exit of our choosing! And upon such a time, they will smash upon our shields and fear the Mors!” He fails to mention that even closing certain entrances will be a difficult task. Their enemies have had a plethora of time to prepare for them.


Lanara shifts her gaze to the Murum Mors, and she responds in kind, with a curt nod, and a small smile on her features. She takes in the extent of their weapons, shields, and armor, admiring the disciplined intent on their faces. If her memory served her correctly, they were some type of mercenaries, which is confirmed seconds later, as Eirik makes the appropriate introductions. She’s about to form a reply, when the male addresses the entire group of those gathered, his voice rising as he’s filled with excitement about having the locations of the enemies. As the crowd goes wild, several yelling insults at Kybella, others inquiring just ‘how’ they would close up the entrances and a few murmuring in excitement amongst themselves, Lana turns to Eirik. “So, what is your plan of action? And how will a group of mercenaries expect to beat an enemy that uses magic?” The elf’s words are clear, though soft-spoken, as she hopes to address the lycan, solely. If another overheard, she couldn’t help it, but this was a rally, was it not? They’d have to address all concerns, before they formed an invasion.


The sky begins to darken. The once blue sky fills with dark clouds to only begin a downfall of rain. The mood among those who have gathered, including the Riddarnir riders who practice in the fields beyond, stop their training. For in the distance a horde amasses - filled with minotaurs, humans and witches. Dressed in arms and armor they have seized from caravans that sought to find their fortunes in Venturil and beyond. Their haggard bodies are riddled in spells - they’re mindless and meander towards the whole of Denubyrg with violence on mind. They care not for the livelihood of those people who have gathered. They care not for the horns that blare at their sight. For instead they continue to march onwards, in hope to slaughter the lives which call this place home. Spellcasters alike begin to hum and mana pools in their chants, pulling down the first crack of lighting from the skies!


Eirik continues without answering any questions, because he is about to answer Lanara’s own. It’s not that he’s trying to brush her off, he just hasn’t quite finished yet. Magic does not always beat might, and he does have a plan. “My brothers of the sword, this witch will crumble before our mi..” His words are cut off by the change of sunlight. Why has it grown dark? To further alert the man a blaring of horns comes from the town. But what is it? The guards scramble upon the wall, and more seem to appear from towers readying themselves for something unseen. Eiriks visage twists back to those high stone walls to watch in bewilderment. Is another attack from the Minotaurs coming? He can’t figure it out what's going on until he twists his gaze to those golden fields of wheat and beyond. They were under attack! “To arms!” Eirik bellows pulling free his own shield and spear! They must defend their town and he again ushers out orders. “Mors! With me!” The Northman bursts into a full charge to meet that enemy head on! “Shield wall!” He calls out as a blast of fire spits across the field at them! The Murum mors answer in kind, throwing up a wall of wooden defense which those flames scorch and char, but to no avail! The wall of death meets its first wave of enemies, whilst they scramble to attack. Their weapons clang against the protective barrier, but spears pierce through cracks and thrust into those maddened people. It seems that Eirik and the Mors could hold their ground against such vast numbers. The riders of Denubyrg form up, and charge into battle scything through enemy lines. A volley of arrows is loosed from atop the high wall into a wave of enemies that has yet to reach them. The gates are closed, and those who were waiting to get in now scramble to find a place they can safely hide!


Lanara watches as the sky darkens, the hair rising on the back of her neck, as she glances to her left and right. She could feel the energy approaching, long before the blaring horns go off, and she understands, all at once. They were under attack! The elf runs in the opposite direction, and climbs a rope that leads to the top of the high walls, scaling it with ease, despite her injuries. She didn’t think to bring a weapon to this meeting, though the witch was a weapon in her own right, with the magic flowing through her veins. Finally, she reaches the top of the white wall, and she hoists her lithe frame onto the top, steadying herself, as she glances upon the other side. Several archers are to her left and right, and her fiancé is momentarily forgotten as she takes in the sight of a minotaur. Never before had she laid her chocolate hues upon something to magnificent, and she eyes the rippling muscles with both horror and awe. The sound of the gates being closed from below snaps her back to reality, as she realizes that the city that has been her home for the past two weeks is in danger. She scowls, and as her hand is raised, a circular orb of fire forms in her open palm, and she angrily hurls it at those that wish to invade Denubyrg. Thankfully, her target is struck, as she watches a trio of men fall to the ground, doing the ever popular stop, drop, and roll, but to no avail, as the fire spreads. Lana watches, while readying another ball of fire in her palm, her dark hues narrowing on her next target.


Even with the chaos of battle, the swathes of targets cut down by Murum mors and riders of Denubyrg, the attacks don’t stop. The mages twist their magic and bring those sprawling flashes of blue hued lightning into play once more. And soon they turn sinister and berate the ground with their touch! A shockwave of noise is released, sending a group of the towns defenders splaying out on the ground. Fire ignites in its wake - the rains not heavy enough to stop it. Lanara’s attack of fire is successful and brings a few down. Meanwhile another horde throws themselves at the Riddarnir, led by a massive minotaur. A giant two handed stone axe is swung full force for their leaders horse - taking its legs clean off its body in a monstrous display! With a grunt of effort, that creature raises the axe and separates the head from the commanders neck! Another flash of fire breaths across the sky, catching more innocents with it’s touch! Several bolts of Lightning reach out and smash against those high stone walls near Lanara in an effort to toss her from that place of perching while ripping holes into their defenses. A few enemies scramble for Lanara, swiping their weapons for her alone. While others still reach out to attack the Riddarnir further with magic. It seems that everything is in a mad panic!


Eirik finds himself lost in the mayhem of battle, pressing forwards as he has always done so. When the time is right, and that first wave has been set upon by their expert spears, he gives a final triumphant announcement. “Break apart!” He and the mors all split in unison, separating that interconnecting wall of shields. Each one strikes out of their own free will to initiate further slaughter within the fields. They pay no mind to the spells being cast around them. To the dying allies and instead continue to press forwards. Constantine further abandons the group and charges after the minotaur chieftain who has killed a captain. Upon reaching that beast, his bare hands reaches out into the thin air and he leans forward. What follows in his wake, is another thunderous crack, and a black fiery weapon appears within his grasp. It’s shadowy blade is scythed through the horned being - but no cut or blood shows evidence of his hit. Instead he suffers from wounds internally, bleeding within his body and falls to his own death. Eirik himself is charging through swathes of enemies, using his own shield to catch bolts of ice and balls of fire slung his way. His spear tip digs into several different enemies as he passes, but it seems that their numbers are beginning to dwindle. To panic and die off at their efforts. Between the volley of arrows and Lanara’s own spells to aid and assist the group they push back against the horde!


Lanara finds that she’s been grabbed roughly by her hair, and she turns her head and chomps down on the male’s upper arm, hoping the distraction would cause him to lose his grip, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts her by her pony-tail, her boots scrambling to grapple the white stone wall, as her hand is yanked back with sheer violence. The man’s eyes are bloodshot, he’s foaming at the mouth, and he looks as though he lost his marbles, long ago. Clearly, he had suffered at the hands of Kybella. They all had. Perhaps, this man was once an innocent, though now he had been programmed to destroy, and the little witch was his intended target. Lana kicks at the air, she tries to swing her arms and elbow him in the ribs, but it all amounts to nothing, as he throws her, with inhuman strength, off of the side of the wall. She screams as she drops about twenty feet, before her hand grasps at the fibers of the rope, and she slams her hip against the side of the wall, holding on for dear life. A ball of fire is hurled down at her frame, and the rope begins to fray, her eyes widening. This wasn’t good. This all was so unplanned. The red-eyed male glares at her from atop the wall, and in a moment of adrenaline fueled fury, she climbs the rapidly shredding rope, her fingertips embracing the licks of the flame. Minutes later, and after sustaining several burns on her hands and forearms, she makes it to the top of that wall, perching near the spot where she originally stood. She kicks the man in the leg, as he howls the entire length of the wall, before he lands with a splatter, on the other side. “Stay. Out. Of. My City.” Thankfully, the assailant’s are thinning out, and she scrambles a few feet and plucks a bow and some arrows from one of their own, that had perished. She glances back at the city below, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Eirik, but she’s unable to see him, as her vision is once more capture by another approaching group. Readying her bow, she snaps the arrow into the notch, and pulls back the string, her gaze steady, as she sizes up the target.


What remains of the horde is only but few, having had multiple mages cut down by the attacks of all combined. They’re enthralled minions find themselves killed or cast aside or pinned down by Lanara’s arrows. Some turn to run, others die where they stand. Despite their attacks against the wall, those who live in Venturil refuse to give up. But just as that horde had come, they begin to vanish. A lone child steps through the field with a half amused smirk upon her face. “Oh my.” Her voice is magically amplified to reach even the ears of those hiding within their homes. “Whatever shall I do with you?” Kybella herself comes to a stop amidst the bloodied field of carnage. “You poor things scrape what existence you can from the fields. You clamor on about war and a united people. But you see?” Her hands reach out to the mayhem that’s been wrought. “You slaughter your own kind. It’s no wonder each town cannot come to terms.” She begins to laugh, maniacally. After her fit of laughter she raises a single hand to point at the wall. Mana fills the very field around her. “Hear my words Goddess. Before my sights is a wall of whites. A guardian of peoples, screaming of plights. Take this power and tear asunder,” The ground near her targeted area begins to quake in response. “Bind this wall for a millenia, down under.” The stone contraption buckles under magical pressure, and is swallowed up in the wake of her attack. “You all stand no chance.” Any attack thrown at her, hits a barrier that deflects it. “I will see you soon Eirik.” The robed child steps away, and only vanishes into a portal which she opens in front of them all.


Eirik has grown tired during this melee attack. Tired of slaying those who used to be allies and finds himself thankful for its end. However short lived that is. When that child in robes appears and begins to speak, he is horrified to know who stands before them all. He throws a spear in her direction and watches it smash into an invisible barrier. Silver eyes look down to his now empty hand, questioning his own skill. Her words do not fall on deaf ears. Nor does her show of power. Kybella is suddenly realized as a serious threat. “Ancestors,” Eirik cant believe what he just witnessed from the witch. The people needed assistance! But her display of power is over too soon and she is gone. Eirik is suddenly visible, standing alone in the field while others work to put the fires out. What the hell just happened?


Lanara narrows her eyes on the child, and after that show of power, and the spell is cast, she sighs. This was not going as her lycan had planned, not in the least. The bow is discarded, as she drops to her knees, needing a minute to assess her own injuries. Nothing is fatal. Though that blow to her already injured hip is starting to smart and the burns on her appendages sting something awful. The migraine would vanish, in time. Though the vision of those injured or dying fills her mind, and she has to look away, biting her lower lip to force herself to remain strong. She had been forced from every place she had ever called ‘home’ since she was a little girl, and this place was at war with a dark daughter of the Goddess. She had never witnessed anyone –that- powerful. She’s filled with doubt, the urge to run, and the need to just curl up in a ball and cry. Would this be a losing battle? Sniffling, she removes her tattered jacket, covered in another’s blood, ands he throws it over the side of the wall, before looking for a new way down. That’s when she sees Eirik, standing along, in the field. She frowns, unsure of what he would be feeling just now, though she imagined it wouldn’t be a feeling of hope, or victory. Eventually, she finds another rope, and climbs back down the length of the wall, weakly landing on the soles of her boots. A short while later, she stands beside the lycan, watching the burning of the fields, her dark hues moist from emotion. She doesn’t say anything; she merely rests her scorched fingers on his shoulder.


Eirik is lost in his own world of thought. This coven had been left to fester and rot within the plains of Venturil for far too long. His old clan had failed to fulfill the contract that he had purchased with his own gold. A sum near fifty thousand gold. He would seek that money back as now the task must be performed by him. “Damn them all,” his voice calls out as Lanara’s finger tips touch his shoulder. “This should have been dealt with forever ago,” he husks to her. His eyes move to meet hers for moments. “Are you alright?” He is checking in on her, to insure that she is indeed healthy. Once a response is given he nods, “I need to help put the fires out and find more help.” His gaze sweeps to the leaderless Denuyrg. “They need it.” Eirik places his hand atop hers for a few lingering moments and then sets off to help those in need.


Lanara leaves Eirik to his own devices, after murmuring that she’s ‘fine’ and moving towards the enflamed fields. A few look at her with disapproval, as they pour buckets of water over the rampant fires. She had wielded fire. She had suffered burns. But, she was still an outsider in this part. An elf. A witch. She was often ignored, and none had befriended her in the past few weeks she had called this place her home. Still, she wouldn’t turn her back on them in their time of need. Yes, she was a witch, but she wasn’t under the ruling of Kybella. Nor did she intend to misuse her magic, or make them live in any type of fear. Hadn’t they witnessed her aide on the wall? She shakes her head, and lifts her arms up, glancing at the sky, her sangria-stained lips parting slightly. “Fire, fire, go away. Rain! I call on you this day. Drench the fields until they’re gold. Make it look as good as old.” Those burn-riddled hands drop to her sides, as she turns away from the two women that wear heated glares upon their faces. A male, however, offers her a smile as it begins to drizzle, and he laughs, as the heavens above open, and rain pours heavily down upon the fields, aiding in putting out the flames, as well as watering the crops and fields of gold. Lana walks away from them all, feeling their wary gazes upon her slender back, as she walks over to Sigrid and Bjorn, the latter gracing her injured hand with a flick of his tongue. “It will heal. Don’t worry, Boy….” She looks around, willing to offer healing to those that may seek it, though she’s doubtful any would accept help from a witch.