02-20-2012, 01:53 PM
The darkness, a comfortable sight in the realm of the Duskwood. So many abandoned homes, lost locations that once were treated with love. Once there roamed harmless wildlife, the deer would frolic in the open areas. Now only death and savagery remain as feral monsters, and worse, prowl in the dark reaches of the wood. It felt like home, wandering through the shadow. Slowly it came, the forgotten village that so many relate to evil and death. It was here the Black Riders came, and scoured all life and left in their quest. The stench of decay was heavy on the air, the moans and rattling of the once-gone echoing from the nearby cemetery.
It was the perfect location.
Step by step, over broken stone and rotten moss, came a thinly figure from the darkness. The moonlight shown over the town, glaring like an evil spirit from the realm beyond. Hacking his lungs out, the approaching figure continued onwards, undaunted he entered the largest standing structure. In some time, before the darkness, it had been a gathering place for friends and family after a long day's work. Now it was nothing more than a rotting tomb for those unlucky enough to be caught in the wake of evil. In the fireplace the figure placed the remnants of a pair of moldy barstools, and a portion of what once was a table. With an incantation and a flick of the wrist, the unfit wood lit into a low flame.
Burning just bright enough to send some shadow into the corners of the room, the rotten face of the figure lit up. His skinless, moldy features unwavering as he turned to face the darkness. A raspy voice echoed out of his barely closed throat, "Perfect. Yes, I think this will be an excellent location. Funny how I can remember it, as if I were here but a few days ago..." The figure moved about, scouring every corner, inspecting every surface. His cold hand, rubbing against the cracking stone of the pillars. He violently coughed once more, "This place has seen far better days than this... and it will only continue to see worse." He went to the bar counter and went to work. Gently removing the black, rune-inscribed tome from the chain on his waist he set it upon the mossy wood. Next he took the dark leather satchel from his side as well and opened it revealing a few empty vials and a pen.
A bony hand unlocked and opened the tome, searching through the pages vigilantly for the right phrase. Almost as soon as he muttered the spell, a dark purple light grew from the satchel. Growing until it expanded to a hole large enough to reach into, the figure muttered to it, "Staff..." And upon pulling his arm out, he had also called his stave into place. He placed the five foot tall iron staff to the side, a faintly glowing crystal held at it's head. Repeating the process several times, the figure pulled forth an array of books, alchemical equipment, and a leather-bound roll of surgical equipment.
The figure turned to his tome again, flipping to the next page, and muttered another incantation to the satchel. The dark purple fading from view back into nothing, as if it had never been. As if remembering an old friend, a circle of markings in the bottom of the satchel light brightly and then faded once the purple light had retreated fully. As the light faded from the dying fire, the last bit to see was the moonlight shining through the broken glass, the faint glow of the stave's crystal, and the burning yellow in the eye sockets of the figure.
The figure turned to a pile of human bones, and intently he gazed at them. As if waving, he muttered something, his hand growing dark from the gathering shadow leaping like flame. The pile rumbled, slowly and steadily the bones reassembled themselves into a brace of beaten skeletons. They looked around for a moment, an echo spilling from the figure, "Organize this place..." With that he found a steady chair and sat, he closed his eyes, the lids barely making contact with each other. The figure sat and focused as the pair of skeletons diligently arranged the books, alchemy supplies, and the like for their master upstairs in the larger room.
When their task had been finished they returned to the thinly man downstairs. He simply waved once more, shadow growing in his hand, the skeleton's collapsing violently to the floor. He sat there for a bit longer, simply thinking to himself.
"It feels good to be in this place, much there is to collect and learn from here. I do hope the locals appreciate my work for a better future," the figure groaned. "It would be a shame to simply lose everyone... I'd have no room for subjects, no one to tell me what ails them..." He chuckled at the thought and stood, the bones in his fragile body cracking into place as he walked off into the darkness of the building.
It was the perfect location.
Step by step, over broken stone and rotten moss, came a thinly figure from the darkness. The moonlight shown over the town, glaring like an evil spirit from the realm beyond. Hacking his lungs out, the approaching figure continued onwards, undaunted he entered the largest standing structure. In some time, before the darkness, it had been a gathering place for friends and family after a long day's work. Now it was nothing more than a rotting tomb for those unlucky enough to be caught in the wake of evil. In the fireplace the figure placed the remnants of a pair of moldy barstools, and a portion of what once was a table. With an incantation and a flick of the wrist, the unfit wood lit into a low flame.
Burning just bright enough to send some shadow into the corners of the room, the rotten face of the figure lit up. His skinless, moldy features unwavering as he turned to face the darkness. A raspy voice echoed out of his barely closed throat, "Perfect. Yes, I think this will be an excellent location. Funny how I can remember it, as if I were here but a few days ago..." The figure moved about, scouring every corner, inspecting every surface. His cold hand, rubbing against the cracking stone of the pillars. He violently coughed once more, "This place has seen far better days than this... and it will only continue to see worse." He went to the bar counter and went to work. Gently removing the black, rune-inscribed tome from the chain on his waist he set it upon the mossy wood. Next he took the dark leather satchel from his side as well and opened it revealing a few empty vials and a pen.
A bony hand unlocked and opened the tome, searching through the pages vigilantly for the right phrase. Almost as soon as he muttered the spell, a dark purple light grew from the satchel. Growing until it expanded to a hole large enough to reach into, the figure muttered to it, "Staff..." And upon pulling his arm out, he had also called his stave into place. He placed the five foot tall iron staff to the side, a faintly glowing crystal held at it's head. Repeating the process several times, the figure pulled forth an array of books, alchemical equipment, and a leather-bound roll of surgical equipment.
The figure turned to his tome again, flipping to the next page, and muttered another incantation to the satchel. The dark purple fading from view back into nothing, as if it had never been. As if remembering an old friend, a circle of markings in the bottom of the satchel light brightly and then faded once the purple light had retreated fully. As the light faded from the dying fire, the last bit to see was the moonlight shining through the broken glass, the faint glow of the stave's crystal, and the burning yellow in the eye sockets of the figure.
The figure turned to a pile of human bones, and intently he gazed at them. As if waving, he muttered something, his hand growing dark from the gathering shadow leaping like flame. The pile rumbled, slowly and steadily the bones reassembled themselves into a brace of beaten skeletons. They looked around for a moment, an echo spilling from the figure, "Organize this place..." With that he found a steady chair and sat, he closed his eyes, the lids barely making contact with each other. The figure sat and focused as the pair of skeletons diligently arranged the books, alchemy supplies, and the like for their master upstairs in the larger room.
When their task had been finished they returned to the thinly man downstairs. He simply waved once more, shadow growing in his hand, the skeleton's collapsing violently to the floor. He sat there for a bit longer, simply thinking to himself.
"It feels good to be in this place, much there is to collect and learn from here. I do hope the locals appreciate my work for a better future," the figure groaned. "It would be a shame to simply lose everyone... I'd have no room for subjects, no one to tell me what ails them..." He chuckled at the thought and stood, the bones in his fragile body cracking into place as he walked off into the darkness of the building.
Do you have what it takes to join the Fighting Blues?
Do you have what it takes to defend your homeland?
Will you stand up in defense of the innocent? The weak?
Will you stand up in defense of Justice and the Law?
Do you have what it takes to defend your homeland?
Will you stand up in defense of the innocent? The weak?
Will you stand up in defense of Justice and the Law?