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Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi. Patient's Room.

Xandar was amused by the careful looks he got from everyone, that it seemed all eyes were on him and this conversation. It was funny how even other Eyriens feared a man such as himself, but could he blame them? Xandar grew up his entire life never fearing a single man, besides his father, and he had killed his father with his own two hands. Nobody had stood in his way since, and it was only the power of an entire kingdom that made the Warlord Prince think twice about what he did. The Ebon-Grey could only take him so far, there were few who rivaled him, and even less who possessed the Black Jewel. Maybe it was better that Xandar didn't have the Black Jewel, but some days he wished he had. But still, he could be worse off. There were very light jewels in his presence, all of their lives snuffed with a snap of his fingers. At least, the ones he had met so far. The strange man who liked having staring contests with him didn't seem to be from around here and a bit more competent than some he had met, but nothing he couldn't handle. He hoped that he wouldn't be a thorn in his side, he seemed very suspicious of him, an the last thing he wanted was dramatics. However, this healer... she wore the pants here so it seemed. It was truly as if the two adults were talking, and this mother was trying to deal with her children in the mean time.

Once the Red-Jeweled woman took his glance, eyeing him up before speaking to him, it took a few short moments before she finally agreed to speak in private. This discussion of his injuries were not one he'd like to have with anyone besides the one who was going to treat him, and he would also like to hide the severity in case anybody had any ideas. There was still a large bounty on his head after all, and he didn't want anybody getting a cool idea to try and capture him when he wasn't at full strength. But, even in this current state he was a force to be reckoned with, and he would act proud and powerful for as long as he could. As he got up from his chair to follow her the little minions seemed to spring up as if on cue. Oh it was adorable, the little children afraid for her mother. She was the only one who could even stand up to him, and these people wanted to stay for security? They would honestly only get in her way if anything happened.

After a bit of bickering and pointless arguments the lady of the house shut them up with a single hand raise, switching to her Eyrien tongue as she addressed them. Wow, a sensible woman who knew what she was talking about and had some balls to say it. A+. She finally shut up the children and told them to leave the adults to their business. Xandar walked slowly to the door, sighing as he stretched his large wings out, extending them far before folding them back in again. She was starting to like this woman, which was probably more concerning than anything. The kind of people he liked were like him, and he knew it wouldn't be an easy task repaying this woman. She'd milk him for all he was worth at this rate. But what choice did he really have?

"All these rumors, calling me by my alias. Yes, there are many rumors about me I'm sure. The only thing exaggerated about them are why I did things, not what I did or how I did them. If I was here for your souls I would have announced it when I walked in the door gentleman, but I'm not here to kill anyone, especially not your precious healer. Everyone else in the room? I could care less. But, I suppose if I made trouble I would not get the service I want. My business is with the woman, and not with any of you. I came here for what I want, and when I get it I'll be on my way." Xandar said, walking over to the door as he put his hand on the door frame.

"Now if you'd excuse us, the adults are talking." Xandar said smugly before disappearing into the hall behind Faeril.

Once they had gotten into the patient's room, Xandar sat down on the examining table or whatever she called it and stretched a bit, yawning. He slipped off his tunic, vanishing it as he was now shirtless and his whole upper body was on full display to the woman.He wasn't shy in the least, he had nothing to be ashamed of, and she wouldn't be the first or last woman he'd take his clothes off around. However, there was one spot on his torso that was fairly unusual. There was some bandages wrapped around his torso, some pads pushed against the side of his ribs. He vanished those as well, and a nasty looking wound was shown as he lay on his side. It was wide and deep, and it seemed like it was taking a lot just to not have the wound gushing blood everywhere. There was only so much healing he could do on his own, but this wound only got worse by the day.

"If I could do this myself I wouldn't have come, but this is a bit serious. This wouldn't be the first time I've had a life threatening injury, however, this one I can't just tough out. A week ago I was ambushed by some of the Queen's men, I was turned in by one of the people I thought I trusted for my bounty. Fucker caught me off guard before I could get my Ebon-Grey, hit me hard. If I hadn't flinched when I did I would have been captured for sure and this injury would have crippled me. I burned the whole place and the bodies to the ground and left. It's been getting worse and I've felt weaker every day. I have a bad feeling this isn't normal."

Xandar sighed, staring at the wall as he said this. He hated this moment of weakness, of need, having to get help from somebody he barely knew. His pride would have to wait for now, as he wasn't stupid enough to have himself die or get captured this easily. If he had to play nice for a bit and bite the bullet he would. He just had a bad feeling about this woman, not the fact that she wouldn't heal him. The barkeep wouldn't send him to some place he didn't trust, but those words still rung in his head. She'd put him right, one way or another, although he might not like how she did it. It couldn't be that bad.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi

Xandar waited for the other two to arrive and crossed his arms, standing behind them as Denvar knocked on the heavy wooden door. After a few clicks and a swift swing of the door, a woman appeared with bright blue eyes and dark hair. An Eyrien woman, who was much smaller than him but he could tell that she was very capable despite her small stature. This was definitely the woman, and she took no time to push past Denvar and call him out. By his title no less, 'The Reaper' was a name that almost everybody knew him by now, most of his other names lost to this one. Death, destruction, murder, war, the name was carried with a certain despair and weight to it. Rumor carried by the winds speak of slaughters and massacres of hundreds of men, even his own father put to death by his own hand, Xandar Markov was the last of his lineage. Years of living rogue and on his own, fighting against the queens and being hunted have shaped these rumors so harshly. A man that once fought for a cause, for rebellion, and for honor talked about like a walking serial killer. A reaper only came for those who deserved death, and their death came swift, but a reaper was not above killing those who got in his way. Fear would be a rational reaction to the sight of Xandar, a man of great strength and size, but this woman walked right up to him, knew exactly who he was, and was fine with it. It might have not been the most respectful greeting, but he needed her help so he wasn't going to go about and start any fights. He would have to be on his best behavior, and try to figure out who these people really were, and what they were about.

"If you know who I am then you should well know my loyalties, which are quite exclusive to myself. I don't think I need to explain much more than that." Xandar commented, smirking as he gave her a knowing look. He was well aware that she must know the bounty on his head and how he got it. He wasn't concerned in fighting anybody but the Queens and their people who were spreading evil and tyranny about his people. He refused to bow to those he did not agree with. As he stepped through the door he flipped back his hood, casting a heating spell on himself. He instantly dried off as he stepped through the door, completely dry as a bit of steam came off of him. He vanished his cloak, becoming a bit too warm from the heating spell. His jet black hair was cut about medium length, wavy and thick as he ran his hand through his locks. His bright gold eyes reflected the light brightly as he took a look around, taking in the view. The front room was of a wealth he was more familiar too, plush but heavy furniture, a fire place, and it seemed a bit cozy. His eyes also glanced over to the kitchen, where he noticed another set of eyes staring back at him.

A tall, slim man with white hair and blue eyes watched his move ever so carefully. His body was relaxed but he could feel the cold stare piercing through him was those ice blue eyes. It seemed that the Xandar had attracted more attention than he was hoping for just by walking into the room. This was usually the case, if the man didn't catch anything from his nickname Xandar's sheer size and presence alone was enough to make people worry. This is why for the most part he kept his Ebon-grey vanished. The sight of that jewel alone had people for the door. This glare however did not intimidate him in the least bit, and he locked eyes with the man for a brief moment. His warm, glowing gold eyes looked back at his blue ones, ever so calm and confident, as if saying 'Watch me all you want'. This moment ended with a slight smirk before he turned and walked deeper into the front room. He unclasped his leather armor, sending that into the void as well as all his weapons. He was left with a black sleeveless tunic which opened in a v neck on the front. It was rather tight, the strings on the v neck puled tightly as the cloth clung to his frame. The back was torn open near the shoulder blades to make room for his wings, which now rested neatly on his back. He sat down on one of the chairs, this legs spread a bit and he leaned on the one arm rest, holding up his head with his hand. With the other hand he absentmindedly played with his ring, the Sapphire.

"Now to answer your question of why I'm here, I was in need of a healer of your talents. I came by Boar, as I used to know the son of the man who owned it, and asked if he could help me out. He pointed me in your direction, and I trust him, so here I am to ask of your services. As for this one on the couch, I have no idea who she is or why she's here, I was simply told to bring her along and that you'd want to see her. Before today I hadn't met the witch in my life. Truth be told with her attitude it'd be best I hadn't, but alas." He chuckled, not even glancing at Dareen as his eyes were fixed on the fire. He knew she wasn't very fond of him, and in his mind he was just waiting for her to dare to something so he could put her in her place. But he had to behave, and so he wouldn't try to start violence. But, taunting and belittling her wasn't out of the question.

"My business here is solely with you and your services. I can discuss it more in detail with a bit more... privacy. But in short all I ask is for you to do what you do, I provide compensation, and I'm on my merry way to go about business as usual. I'm not here to try and stir things up in this lovely town of yours. Starting needless trouble when I have better things to do is the least of my concern." he noted, looking right at Faeril as he said this. He wanted this event to be as quick and painless as possible, and hopefully this would go over smoothly. However, he had a bad feeling that this little detour would take longer than expected.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Outside of Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi

Xandar joined the two of them outside as and sighed a shallow breath. It seemed like Denvar was at least going to take care of their little witchling, and she seemed at least somewhat cooperative now that he put her in her place. Still, if he didn't have to deal with her, he wouldn't. Besides, what kind of witch carries around weapons and armor like that if they weren't expecting a fight? As suspicious as it was, he had no desire to concern himself. It would be better to let the tiger-eye jeweled prince handle the woman. The rain fell down heavy as he stepped from the cover of the building, letting the rain fall over him and cool him off. He stretched his shoulders, large bat-like wings spreading out far on either side of him. "And the woman still thinks her opinion matters? Charming. While you handle that Denvar I'll meet you up there. I'm not going to wait any longer than I have to." Xandar proclaimed, immediately jumping up in the air and with a flap of his wings he shot off into the sky towards the particular Eyries on the mountainside closest to Aren. He had grown rather impatient, flying fast and weaving through the rain as he set off for his destination. It wouldn't take him very long before landing and retracting his wings to his back. He'd be met by a lovely garden, although he assumed it would look much more lovely in nicer weather. Well, it wouldn't hurt to knock, although he debated on waiting for the other two before moving on ahead. Not for very long, but he thought about it. After all, it was Denvar who knew these people, not him.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi

Xandar had a deep, boastful laugh to himself, almost as if somebody had said a terribly wonderful joke. Was this witch serious? Quite the balls on this one, he'd give her that. Either that or she had a death wish. He could tell from he that his craft proved far more powerful than hers. His initial offer was nice in comparison, most times he would be a lot more... violent about these things, he could have simply knocker her out and dragged her body out of the bar. He had no attachment to this woman and cared little for her well being. The only reason he was asking was because Randalvar asked to bring her along with. To be quite fair, he had no idea who this woman was or what she would want with Dareen. That was none of his business, it was simply his job to get the witch over to the healer. After his laugh his look got a bit more serious.

The hand with his ring cast out, the sapphire glinting slightly as a strong force was exerted. A strong grip could be felt out Dareen's neck, cutting off the oxygen as she was lifted a couple feet in the air, almost hitting the ceiling He brought her over to him, lowering her so that the two were eye level. His eyes were dead serious, and it was clear he was getting a bit of a temper. His patience had run out. "I do not care who or what you are, and you should be kissing my boot and thanking me that I haven't killed you already. You should well know your place, I owe you nothing. All you need to know is you're coming with me to see her, and after that I couldn't give a fuck. Your life matters little to me, it's laughable to think I care about your feelings or need for knowledge. I will grant you this, for having even the nerve to talk to me. My name is Xandar Markov, and I am like no man you have ever met before. Remember and fear that name, witch."

After that he loosened his grip on her neck, turning around before tossing her head first out of the entrance to the Winged Boar. Xandar sighed, cracking his neck as he slowly started to walk out of there himself. Maybe in different circumstances he would be more reasonable, but he's been on the run, injured, and very impatient lately, and it needn't make much for him to lash out. However, he would try to avoid needless bloodshed for now.

"Denvar. Would you mind leading the way for me? If it's no trouble to you, I'd like to make this trip as swift and painless as possible." he muttered, walking past him as he stopped near doorway. "Oh, and Randalvar. Thank you again. I'm sure I'll see you again soon enough, maybe have a drink and have some talk. I appreciate your hospitality. Oh, and I'll toss that out for you." The warlord prince noted, picking up the belongings of the yellow jeweled witch with his telekinesis and hurling it out of the Winged Boar in her general direction.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi

Xandar nodded at the older man, finishing off his mug and sliding it gently away from him. It seemed the lord was not terribly angry at him over the death of his son, although it seemed it did take him a moment to get his bearings. But like many of their race, death and war was part of their heritage, and people dying in battle was non an unusual occurrence. The Eyrien race was almost desensitized to death itself, becoming part of their culture, the dream was to die a glorious death fighting for what you believed in. Although frankly Xandar was not ready to die just yet.

The warlord prince stretched and nodded as Randalvar gestured to Denvar. It seemed that the brooding man in the corner who was questionably sober would guide him to what he was looking for. Or at least, what he had hoped for. A rogue warlord prince with lots of capture bounties on his head could never be too cautious of people. He hadn't made it this far believing everything that strangers told him. However, he was slowly running out of options and these were the friendliest faces he had seen in months, which was almost hard to believe. As he was lost in thought he turned to see the woman next to him spill the contents of her drink all over the floor in what appeared to be a clumsy accident. Dear lord, this was the person he was supposed to take with him to see the local healer? Hopefully she was specialized in brain cells, because it looked like this one might be lacking. A sigh blew out his lips before nodding to the bartender, standing up from his stool and looking over toward the other warlord prince. "Well, as long as right is better than my current state, I have no room to complain." Xandar said in his Eyrien tongue, taking a step or two towards Denvar. "Xandar Markov. It's a pleasure." the man said, giving a bit of a nod towards him in respect. Normally he was never this nice to anybody, but in this instance it would be unwise to be rude to the people helping you.

"Well there's no rush, but I'm ready to now if you like." Xandar mentioned, before turning around to face the woman in the room. His tongue switched to common, and his voice was commanding more than questioning. "Woman. If you know what's good for you, I'd suggest you come with us. There's somebody who wants to see you, and they're not taking no for an answer. Keep your mouth shut, nod your head, and you'll be fine." Xandar said to Dareen, his bright eyes looking straight into her as his words echoed in the room. His expression turned ever so softer as he gave a nod towards Randalvar and spoke in Eyrien once more. "I appreciate your kindness. If there's anything you would need from me feel free to ask."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi

The trip through Aren, Askavi was lonely and tiring to say the least, as being on the run from the law constantly always made you look over your shoulder. Years ago he wouldn't be so worried, a bold and confident man with many allies by his side, now reduced to being a rogue who could have a sword pulled on him if he walked into the wrong place at the wrong time. These days he wasn't as active in his attempts to fight the power, often keeping to himself and doing what he could to survive. Most of the time this was stealing, either discreetly or by force, to get what he needed day to day. His assets that he had on him were all but run out, and the rest were taken by the Queen herself. Greedy bitch. His name was torn apart as a traitor, and while some still thought highly of him, many were now under the thumb of the twisted Queens. Whether they believed it or not, if Xandar was an enemy of the Queen, he was the enemy of his own people. Time was running out, and he was running very low on options. The reason he was walking through these parts was to find the name of the person by the name of Randalvar. His friend Handovar, who was a close ally for years, had told him of his father and the Winged Boar before his death. Randalvar was a Warlord who owned the place, and while he was hear mostly to spread the news of Handovar, hopefully he could help him with his movement. Or at the very least, find him a decent healer. A few days back he had attempted to assassinate one of the twisted Queens. This had proven unsuccessful, clearly being outnumbered, and he had managed to get out of their alive and not under capture. Not without a fight, and he did manage to damage or kill people within her inner circle. However, the injuries he sustained were serious enough that he could not go about his business as usual. He needed help, as much as he hated the idea.

As the storm as about to pour from the heavens, Xandar stepped through the entrance of the Winged Boar. A terrible thunder shook as he stepped in, some rain already pouring outside as his figure was lit up by the lightning. Standing at 6'7" and weighing 247 pounds of intense muscle, it was clear that he was an Eyrien warrior by that fact alone. However, Xandar wore a black cloak that covered most of his large frame, his hood covering the majority of his face in it's shadow. When the lightning flashed, his dark gold skin on his face was revealed for a split second. His much brighter gold eyes stared out from behind his hood, slowly scanning the room around him. There were two individuals in his immediate vicinity, both possessing some aura of power to them. A tiger-eyed warlord prince was holed up in the corner with a mug, and it was clear that this was not the man who he was looking for. That man only got so much as a glare from Xandar before his eyes turned to the older man behind the counter. The purple dusk warlord, this was the man he would be looking for, and he could only assume this was Randalvar. Xandar took a seat on the bar stool in front of the Warlord, making eye contact. There was no doubt in his mind that he had sensed him and who he was, especially when he pulled back his hood just enough to reveal his face to Randalvar.

"I assume you're the owner of this bar, Lord Randalvar." he said in a hushed tone, sighing softly. "I'm not here to start trouble as many have done before I can imagine. I come bearing news that I wish I did not have to give, but you deserve the truth. Your son, Handovar, was a close ally of mine and I considered him a brother on the battlefield. However, fate was not so kind to that man, and he died for the cause that he believed in, joining my band. I mourned his loss and avenged him by my own hand, but I try my hardest to try and continue what your son had fought for. Sadly I have been unsuccessful as of late, barely managing staying alive myself as all my men have all but died, left, or been captured. I come here to tell you that your son died an honorable man in glorious combat, and that his will lives on within me." Xandar said, taking a moment of silence as he looked up at the ceiling of the bar. He would give anything to have a friend in this world like Handovar, but Xandar's fate was almost just as cruel, living in this empty world where everybody seemed to be an enemy. Xandar's hands were folded on the counter, and there was a faint glint of sapphire coming from his right ring finger. He let the father take his time to process the information before he spoke again.

"The other reason why I was here to ask you for some information, and I would not be so willing to ask for help if the situation did not call for it. I have some... injuries. Something worse than I can handle on my own. Before I can go on without my agenda, I need to make sure I don't keel over days from now from an untreated injury. You wouldn't know of anybody that could help, would you?" Xandar said, his voice almost a whisper as even he didn't want to hear himself speak these words. He absolutely hated the notion of relying on others to be alright, but at this point there was no other choice. His pride would get him killed one of thee days, and he needed to stay humble long enough to be on his way. "Let's just say my latest escapade did not go exactly as planned."

A few moments later, a woman quite literally armed to the teeth had entered the tavern. To be fair, Xandar did carry three blades, armor, and a bow and arrow. Most of this was concealed by the cloak however, the bow and long swords strapped across his large back, his large sword in the scabbard on his left hip and the quiver hanging from his right hip. However, it was very clear that this woman wanted to be seen armed and dangerous with a sword, shield, and bow. There were markings on her face, and she seemed to walk with a confidence while scanning the room. Xandar gave almost a chuckle, but simply kept to himself as he only looked for a split second before turning his head back to face the bar. The woman had sat near him however, and made it clear that she wanted some alcohol. As one did. He ignored any glance she may or may not have gave him, hearing the sound of the bow clack against the wood as she set it down. If this was one of the Queen's people come to pay him a visit he would lose it, although he very much doubted this was the case. Some random person passing by he imagined. The warlord prince in the corner hadn't spoken a word yet either, and it seemed almost too peaceful to be a normal day. Xandar had a feeling this peace wouldn't be kept long, as the storm would attract more and more business as people looked for shelter and a drink.

Xandar covered his face with his hands, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. The barkeep at least hadn't seemed to garnish any hate towards him for what happened to Handovar, but it was a shot in the dark whether the man would be helpful to Xandar or not. These days were getting worse by the minute, and he was half tempted to ask for an ale of his own.

🔵 Venture Academy - Superhero School. (Always accepting.) 🔴

Saturday: Team meeting before capture the flag. Early morning.

It was final the day of capture the flag, and a few days had passed so that students could apply for a spot on each team. There was only a certain amount of spots, however, so the staff picked the students based on their performance in and out of school, among other factors. Once all the applications were in, white envelopes were slipped under the dorm room of each person who had made the event with their team name on it. Every one of you received an envelope under your door, looking to see that your team name was "Blue Team". Evidently, the other team was the red team, and thus the trash talk began all that friday afternoon. Lots of people complained about which team they were put on, if they got picked or not, and trash talking the opposite team. The teams seemed pretty even, veterans and rookies, older and younger, only the best of the best were chosen to compete on this large stage in front of thousands of people. There was a lot of ads and publicity for the event, heroes such as Ghost and Supernova getting interviewed before the event.

Friday, day before the event

Friday was the assembly where both teams were called together so that the rules could be explained. There were two teams, with squads making up 7 people. There were 26 squads on each team, alphabetically assigned, so it was clear that this would be a huge capture the flag game. The map was kept under wraps, but each team had a base with a large flag they had to defend inside the base. It was big enough to it would take a normal person two hands to carry it. Once a flag was grabbed by the opposing team, it would be shown to every single person on both teams via a tracker. Once the flag is brought back to the opposing base, it would count as a point, and a new flag would replace the stolen one. If the enemy team takes the flag from the flag carrier, they must return it to their base right away. The event would last the whole weekend until the time ends, and the team with the most points would win the event.

Other small things were also discussed, such as the safety measures that were in place. Students were allowed to use the full extent of their powers, and even injure classmates to extent, but you weren't allowed to murder your fellow classmates. There were trained staff and medical teams on stand by observing the fighting area and taking those unable to fight anymore. The flags were also not to be tampered with in any way, otherwise the flag would not grant the team points for capturing it. This also was true for defending the flag, but if a defending team tampers with their own flag, the other team will be awarded a point and a new flag will spawn. The superheroes would be wearing newly made costumes with their team color on it. It could be just like their old suit or completely new, but it was important to have the team color in order to establish teammates in combat. Super suits much be worn by participants at all times, or risk disqualifications. Any kinds of weapons, however lethal, will be allowed for this event, according to school regulation for the event. For example, no nuclear missiles.

The assembly was long but it was very informative, and any other questions were fielded by the staff members there. Team captains were also assigned to each team, assigned with helping coordinate their teams and were based on skill and seniority. The area would the capture the flag match was held would be secure, allowing no members to exit the area, unless for medical or extreme purposes. Last but not least, there was an incentive to winning this whole thing, and there would be some kind of secret prize given to the winning team. This was an event the whole world would be watching, many agencies and fans seeing which of their favorite super heroes would come on top. Teamwork, individual performance, and other abilities would be closely watch to see which heroes, win or lose, are the cream of the crop. Winning is the priority, but showing that you got what it takes was also very important for up and coming heroes.

Saturday, Blue team meeting area on campus

It was a small little lecture hall, and there were all the blue team members in attendance. The blue team captains were sitting in the front row, with a black band around their arm to signify this. This would also be the case for the red team captains. A staff member stood at the front of the lecture hall, tapping the mic to get everyone's attention.

"Good morning ladies and gentleman, boys and girls. Today is the day! You will fight for honor, glory, and bragging rights in front of thousands of fans. The pressure's on. You will get one hour to discuss your plans before you are transported to the field. On the field, you will have half an hour to prepare defenses and get a good layout of your home base. Once the signal sounds, the game will officially start. Good luck everyone."

DEAD ISLAND 💀🌴

Cole Anderson

Suddenly, there was a voice echoing over the intercom. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere in the hotel, considering the alarm went quiet when the man spoke. This was certainly bad, especially since the man clarified that it was safe in the control room. Did that mean that there wasn't anywhere else safe in the hotel? Or outside of it? Despite the alarm telling them to all get the hell out of the hotel, this guy wanted them to make it to the security room. He didn't want to stay in this damn hotel anymore, but what choice did he have? He had no idea where to go once he got out. And there was no telling if anymore of these... creatures, out there.

"Well, it looks like that's where we're gonna go. We really don't have any other options." Cole said, looking over to his fellow survivor. She seemed very distressed, vomiting, her hair a mess, quickly packing whatever she could. He didn't blame her, and if it wasn't for the pure adrenaline and survival instincts kicking in, he would be a mess too. This shit was scary. But hiding and being scared wasn't going to save his ass, because it looked like nobody else was going to.

Cole peaked out of the door, looking left and right. It seemed most of the zombies hadn't made it to the top floor, the barricade preventing them. However, that also means they couldn't use the stairs to go down. He remembered there being a fire escape in his penthouse, remembering what the man had said over the intercom earlier.

"It looks like our best bet to get down there is the fire escapes. We may have to do some balcony hopping until we find a good path for getting on the fifth floor. That's 15 floors down. And I have a bad feeling that the farther down we go, the more of those things we're gonna find. Maybe there'll be other survivors too."

Was he really going to go up against these drug infected, sick, mutant humans hell bent on killing him? What if there were more than just two? And what if there were more people in trouble? Could he risk saving them all?

"Come on, let's go. The sooner the better at this rate. Just grab whatever you can as a weapon and stay close to me. As far as I'm concerned, it's kill or be killed once we get down there."

Alinda Williams

Alinda had taken the short time on hand to change into her clothes. Pulling her black jacket over her top and buttoning it, and sliding her jeans over her shorts.

She had heard the voice on the intercom too, and was slipping her sneakers on as she listened. The fifth floor? Fifteen floors down? In a hotel overrun with these psychos? Forget it.

Of course her rescuer was right; what other options were there? No cell phone, no signs or sounds of other people. No immediate rescue effort to be seen. For all they knew this was happening all across the island. They couldn’t just stay here, waiting for a rescue that could be days, or not at all. They needed to find a safer place. The security room was really their only shot it seemed. And if there were others in the hotel that survived, surely they heard the announcement as well. They would be heading to the security room too, surely.

When her new companion mentioned finding a weapon, she rushed over to her suitcase. After rifling about and tossing some clothes to and fro, she pulled a small switchblade from within her bag. She stood and flipped it open with a sharp click, and then closed it back. ”Got this after I left the airport,” she said as she slipped it in her right front pocket”All types at a place like this, and I couldn’t exactly bring my gun from home.”

She reached over and grabbed a bottle of water from her nightstand, and a bag of corn chips, tossing them to her rescuer, since he was the one with a bag. She went ahead and slipped her cell phone into her back left pocket, and grabbed another bottle of water from her bag. She had started to leave when she briskly spun around and grabbed a flashlight from her nightstand.

”Alright,” she said, looking to the man,”that’s all I can really think of. Lead the way, stranger.” she finished, tossing him the flashlight.

"The name's Cole... Cole Anderson." he said, catching the flashlight in his hand. It was weird to him, and he had finally realized that the two literally didn't even know each other. They just met a few moments ago because of... that dead body outside, and now they just agreed they were going to work together to survive. It was weird that in times of need, humans instinctively just banned together. There was no reason for him not to trust her, after all. Hopefully with that switchblade she would hold her own. He didn't know how many things were out there, and there were only so many he could hold off with just MMA gloves on. Speaking of MMA, it just occurred to him that she also had know idea who he was. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing, and he honestly expected most people not to know about him, being a small celebrity.

"And you are? Just to be formal here, I guess. That, and so I know what to shout to get your attention." he whispered, chuckling and trying to at least make a little light of the situation. The two of them made their way down the hallways, dimly lit by the alarm as Cole flipped the flashlight on. As expected there was little resistance as they made it to his penthouse, swiping his key card and entering his hotel room. Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the balcony and took a good look at his surroundings.

"Holy shit." he said abruptly, flicking off the flashlight and shoving it in his pocket. As far as he could see, there were several crashed cars, a few houses on fire, corpses ripped apart and scattered around the island. Random debris, luggage, and trash thrown everywhere. Although it was clear that some of those corpses were walking around, some faster than others, aimlessly walking around the island. These fuckers were everywhere, and it seemed they were lucky to have been on the top floor and woke up only to the two of those zombies. Would they still be alive and gotten through the night if they were somewhere else?

Cole looked down at the fire escape, and it seemed somebody had already used it, from the broken glass and blood trailing down it. It only went down maybe 5 floors, but it was a start. There were other blood trails on the balcony, but it seemed as though those people had taken a one way ticket to pavement town. He didn't try to see if those body were below him, even though he had a feeling if they were, they either had walked away or eaten like a chicken wing at the bar.

"Let's get a move on then." he said, careful where he was stepping as he walked onto the fire escape. After helping Alinda got on with him, he slowly descended the fire escape. The sounds of alarms, burning fires, and screaming, both near and far, assaulted their ears as they went down. Most of it was coming from the island around them, but some of those screams were also coming from the hotel itself. They knew that their were survivors, but how many were actually safe.

As they got to the 15th floor, the end of the fire escape, it seemed like there were three corpses on the balcony that led to it. One was slumped against the wall, and two others were almost right in front of the stairwell, looking like a few chunks missing from them. Apparently whomever had fled his penthouse party hadn't made it very far. "Oh god... just, watch your step."

Alinda nodded rather blankly,”Alinda, Cole. My names Alinda. I’m a-uh... journalist from New York.” She was still trying to process what was happening. Her panic for the moment was gone, replaced by unsurity and... doubt?
It seemed that she still couldn’t seem to process this. These people overcome with some kind of madness. She avoided looking at the dead man on the floor nearby.

She followed Cole past the now dead woman and to his own suite out of hers. Fortunately there were no more of these psychos to contend with, for now anyway.

Though what little optimism she clung to seemed to dissipate as she heard Cole swear and joined him in looking down below at the chaos. ”Oh my God...” she said bleakly, seeing more of these afflicted people below, hearing screaming and witnessing as the island itself descended into hell it seemed,”They’re...everywhere. The island. What the hell is this? Cole, what-“ she stopped herself from asking. He, like her, had no idea what was happening.

She complied with her new companion as he lead her down the fire escape. It took every fiber of her being to constrict the fear that tried to overwhelm her. Any second she expected one of these blood-washed lunatics to leap from a window and drag her inside, or knock her from the fire escape down to a crushing death.

She took steady breaths as she followed Cole, keeping her arms pinned at her sides as she followed. At the sight of the corpses at the base of the fire escape she had to clench her throat tight to avoid vomiting.

My god! she hissed”Have they been eaten? Are these afflicted people cannibalizing each other?”

She couldn’t bear it anymore, she leaned over the railing nearby and released a torrent of puke over the side, clear and putrid.

Well, it did seem in fact like they were eating each other. He had guessed they were at least biting each other, remembering back to when the large man almost tried to bite him. But to think they were eating each other? It was a lot worse than he thought. Also, it seemed like they weren't attacking each other. Most drug addicts usually didn't care about whether they hit their fellow drug addicts or not. With this some kind of illness? A virus? But to have spread this quickly already... Something much worse was going on here. He wasn't so sure that any of them were safe at this point. This was hell.

"You may want to try and keep some of that left in you. If this island has gone to shit like this, I doubt the McDonald's is open." Cole said, gently patting her shoulder, trying to at least calm her down a bit. If his body wasn't full of adrenaline, he stomach would most likely turn as well. This stuff was just... gross.

As they descended to the balcony he turned on the flashlight, taking a good look around the room. It was small, a bit of a mess, some dried blood. Nothing stalking around the corner anyways. After helping Alisha down from the fire escape, one of the dead bodies started to move. "Alright, hopefully the stairs aren't barred off on this floor. If not we're gonna have to find another... What the hell?' the body creaked and cracked as it turned it's head towards the two of them. It was a middle aged woman in a business suit. Her arm was almost to the bone and her torso was eaten to ribbons, but she slowly shambled over to them, going to get up. The other two bodies, although not as damaged, slowly started to rise as well. The lady made a screaming sound, launching after him.

"What the... how is she even still alive?" he said, seeing her body launch at him. He side stepped out of the way, grabbing the back of her neck and sending her off the balcony. There was a loud screech followed by a sickening splat, other zombies on the ground turning to see what caused the noise. It seemed like her screams attracted some friends, as banging could be heard at the door. The other two zombies were slower to get up, but they were only mere feet away from them.

Cole looked down and saw that their was a balcony down a floor and to the left, although it wasn't close enough to simply jump without risking a 15 foot drop. "Look, we need to get to that balcony over there. I want you to start climbing across, the windowsills are big enough for you to stand on. Just hug the wall, go slow, and don't look down." Cole said, as one of the other two zombies approached. He kicked it square in the chest, causing it to stumble and fall back. Even louder banging could be heard on the door, and it didn't seem like it was going to take much more.

"Look I'll be right behind you, just go. We don't have too many options, and I really don't wanna go back up. This might be the best chance we have."

Alinda just couldn’t process this. That woman, she looked like a corpse. A live, moving corpse. She had to stop herself from freezing up as she saw what she saw, and when this man effectively threw her over the railing. Alinda didn’t know what she felt, aside from terror obviously. Disgust, wonder, additional fear?

She felt weak at the knees as she saw the other two “corpse-people” begin to rise up.

The banging at the hotel door seem to snap her out of her sub-catatonic state along with Cole urging her on. She blinked several times as he directed her on what to do. Climb across window seals huh? Alright, simple... In truth she didn’t care for the idea, but what else could they do? No point in turning back. The door was obviously out of the question, as was a fifteen story drop.

”Right,” she said with forced confidencewe've got this. Climb across and jump, simple. Just... watch our back.” she said, indicating the creatures that persisted back in the room.

”Look, here...” she handed him her knife from her pocket as she stepped up onto the nearby, narrow, windowsill.

”Kill them.” she insisted.

Cole nodded, catching the switchblade in his hand and snapping it open. He watched as she climbed up on the window sill. He really hoped they weren't coordinated enough to follow them, but what other choice did they have? He at least needed to clear the other two in the room. That would give enough time for his new companion to get far enough over where they wouldn't be in any danger. "You're doing great, just keep it up. Don't worry about me."

Although the truth was, he was most certainly worried about himself. One of the two remaining zombies, the one he hadn't kick, charged at him, but instead seemed to throw a punch at him. He blocked, caught a bit off guard by it as the zombie pushed him into the balcony. He now half hung off of it, trying to keep his feet firmly planted while holding the man off of him. The zombie bit into his shoulder, but the leather protected him, the teeth having a hard time piercing the hard leather shell. This gave Cole just enough time to shove the blade right through it's eye socket.

After a few quick stabs to make sure it was dead, the body seemed to pin him against the balcony as the other zombie approached. Struggling fiercely, he managed to slide the body off of him just in time to throw a left hook at his attacker. It stumbled back, and Cole didn't give it any time at all, following up with a clean roundhouse kick, snapping it's neck in an awkward spot and having it lay in a heap. Only moments after this he could hear the sound of the door breaking, holes starting to peak through and soon hands were clawing out.

"Shit." Cole muttered, knowing there were seconds left before that thing burst. He had to risk a jump. All those years of parkour would have to pay off, as he leaned back at the edge of the balcony, hoping to take a running start. As soon as he took a deep breath the door burst open, and several of the things sprinted towards him. Only a mere few feet away he dashed himself, using the railing as a stepping stone before launching himself off the end of the balcony. A hand was mere inches away from grabbing his leg, but now out of the reach of the zombies, he was sailing towards the balcony, hopefully in reach of anything. He extended his arms out as far as he could and managed to catch the bottom of the railing with his right hand. All that adrenaline running through him was the difference, in inches, between living and dying a horrible death.

"Well hey, uh, I made it like I said."

Alinda dropped down onto the balcony, falling to her knees slightly from the impact. She stood briskly and looked back up, the things above snarled and growled, though didn't seem to be leaping after them. Fortunately. All they did was flail about at the edge, roaring in fury and waving their arms at the pair. She looked to Cole then back up abruptly, and then back to him again.
"Knife," she held her hand out ,"you can fight man, I need a weapon."

She hoped they didn't have to do that again. Despite the much needed adrenaline surge, she didn't like the idea of tight-roping along balconies and windowsills while waves of cannibals tore at them. "We need to go, get to the security room. That or... maybe a car? I mean we might could make it to the parking garage. What do you think?" In truth Alinda didn't want to be at this accursed hotel any longer, she just wanted to flee, to get away and maybe find a ship or a plane or some way off of this island now.

"I don't know... I'm more worried about right now and getting out of here alive. Come on, the security room is up ahead."

Tales from Frontier Village: A Rune Factory Roleplay {Always Recuriting/Accepting}

Auron Lockhart

The trading festival was cancelled. Great. Auron sighed as he sat at the local tavern, sitting on a bar stool as he sipped on some rum. At least the weather was a bit nicer here. Auron wore a white dress shirt that was opened and has the sleeves cut off, dark blue trousers and some brown boots. His blonde hair was swept to the side, a bit of a mess in all honesty. He was detailed with going all this way to escort the merchants to their destination. Sadly, monsters have overrun the site and there's been a delay. For how long, he has no idea, but they were to stay in town until they could attend the festival. Being mostly a trading city, the storm coast got a lot of good allies and money from this festival, and a lot of income was depending on it. And so he sat, with nothing to do but sit at the local tavern and waste his day away. Besides training, there wasn't a whole lot to do that he found.

Well, there was gambling, which he had done plenty of. As a coast guard, he had passed lots of times with card games, and it was a great way to pass the time. He didn't gamble all the time, but he was good enough at the game to win some kind of money. And so he sat down at the poker table and bought himself a hand. With a straight face and his sword on his back, the coast guard grabbed his chips and cards and took a good look at them. Hopefully the people around the table didn't make too much of a fuss, because if all his hands started like his first one, he'd be doing quite well for himself.

DEAD ISLAND 💀🌴

Post incoming tomorrow