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Coming Soon!

(or whenever I get off my lazy ass)

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Confidence surged through Finnegan as the first of the undead met it's end-- his adrenal response flipping on it's head the instant his feet were back beneath him.

The ceaseless pounding of his own heartbeat smothered screaming pain of his missing finger to little as the Apostle bared his teeth-- and try as she might; Atzi's words would fail to find purchase before Finnegan would lunge toward the nearest Zombie in a tunnel-visioned fury!


Decaying chunks of skull and brain splattered across Finn's face and tabard as three consecutive blows caved the temple of the second Zombie. As the second fell, Finnegan reeled to face the third-- only to find it suddenly restrained by an incredibly muscular Woman.

For a moment, his frantic breathing began to slow.

"Ahhh.... hah... Thanks for the help..."

Finnegan nodded gratefully to the newcomer as he bent over to retrieve his knife, "We... haah... Shouldn't stay here too long... Dont know where we are... But if theres undead... I'll bet there's a N-"

The color drained from Finn's face as the words caught in his throat, his eyes locked on the woman who had been behind him from the beginning.


Unnaturally pale skin contrasted against the dark fabrics of a gothic dress.

"A N-N-Ne-"

Glistening, inhuman fangs and predatory orange eyes adorned a sinister grin.

"Ah- A N-N-Nec-"

Finnegan's eyes darted between the two Women rapidly as conspiracies flooded through his head.

Were these two working together?

Why the hell was he here?

What kind of profane ritual did they need to keep him alive for?

The young Aposle swallowed dryly, nearly tripping himself over the table he'd laid upon only minutes ago; but managing to keep his balance. For a moment he stood still, nearly frozen in trepidation-- before launching himself over the table and making a mad dash for the door!



"Shit! SHIT! SHIT!" Finnegan cried out in panic as the Zombies rushed, and promptly overwhelmed him. Cut and slice and stab as he would-- the Apostle's efforts did little to dissuade the living dead from their onslaught; his opposition only serving to catch his knife in the decaying flesh of one of his attackers.

Rotten blood gushed from the wound, causing his grip to slip from his knife as the Zombies tackled him to the ground.

"Fu- fuck!"

Any semblance of chivalrous attitude Finnegan had previously displayed all but vanished as adrenaline surged through his veins. The Militiaman flailed and twisted as he tried to wrench free of the Zombie clinging to his side and the one that currently had hold of his throat.

It was far from enough.

Just as frantically as he was attempting to escape the grasp of the undead; the undead themselves sought to feed upon his living flesh. Though Finn had managed to keep the one on his side at bay-- the one that hung over him; it's undying grasp wrapped tightly around his throat, pulled it's reeking jaws close...

Finnegan fought to push the abomination away from him-- just enough to get out from under it. Every time his left hand reached out to push the creature back, the oil-like slick of blood caused his hand to slip, again and again until--


A scream echoed through the halls of the Catacombs as blackened teeth cut through the first joint of Finnegan's ring finger.

A second surge of Adrenaline pumped through the young soldier, sound and smell fading into obscurity as his vision began to tunnel. The sound of his own heartbeat pounded wildly in his own ears as the Zombie clutching his side began to make headway toward his neck as well.

And then a black object slammed into the skull of the second Zombie.

Whatever the Woman might of said-- it never reached Finnegan's ears.

Whatever ornate carvings decorated the black object that had landed beside him-- Finnegan payed no heed.

All he knew; all that mattered-- was that he had a weapon.

His right hand formed a white-knuckled grip around whatever the object was-- and swung it hard into the temple of the Zombie that held his throat!


Again and again, he bashed the Zombie's skull with the odd flail he had been supplied; ravaging it until it's grip would loosen enough to break free! With a violent jerk, Finnegan whipped the pommel of his newly acquired weapon into the face of the second undead as he kicked away from his assailants, scrambling to get back to his feet!


Luminous eyes slid open as Finnegan sat up abruptly; pulling free of what necrotic husk still clung to him. A womanly voice from behind the young Apostle exclaimed in disbelief at his sudden revival, eliciting a strange chuckle from the man she had thought dead mere moments before.

"It would seem so Sister!" Finnegan replied cheerfully; his hands vigorously rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "I'm just glad to be back in Av-"

Finn's words abruptly halted as a small box appeared in the edge of his vision. He'd thought it a trick of the light at first-- but now that he looked at it... It seemed to contain a strange depiction of a vaguely familiar woman sitting atop a gear... And were those words?

In a single moment, the surreal feeling that had followed the dream had all but vanished; replaced instead by a surge of adrenaline-fueled panic.


Finnegan's fearful scream echoed throughout the catacombs as the heel of his boot slammed into the forehead of the lunging Zombie, throwing it back-- in addition to sending him ass over teakettle off the other side of the table. Hurriedly scrambling back to his feet, Finn took a defensive stance in front of the Woman he had woken with; drawing his hunting knife as the trio of Living Corpses continued their shuffling advance.

Finn's eyes shifted warily between the three undead; gritting his teeth nervously as he tried to remember the basics of CQC.

"If you’re forced into using your knife-- you've already screwed yourself. So you better be paying the FUCK attention!"
Drill Marshal Dearan

He could almost feel the end of the Drill Marshal's cane jam into his ribs as the words reverberated sternly inside his head. Raising his left arm to act as a shield, Finnegan shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet; his knife-wielding hand poised to slash and stab away at whatever got close.

"I'm not sure who you are miss, nor how I got here-- but stay behind me. God willing, I'll get us out of this mess and back to safety!"

I'd definitely want to learn more about the setting details before anything else-- but this seems like it could be neat.
Blood Knight Gaming for me lads

As per usual-- consider me interested!

I've already got an idea I really like for something like this.

@Rune_Alchemist@Crimson Paladin@Cu Chulainn

The knight rubbed his chin in contemplation for a quiet moment before rising to his feet; dusting his hands as he'd deliberately scuff away what he'd etched in the dirt with his heel.

"Based on what you've described--" Reinhardt began, sighing quietly as he began his assessment. "I'm confident what you saw was a type of Dragon... A Wyvern, specifically. Which is; fortunately, the 'weakest' of their kin."

Motioning for the children to follow him, Elias would move toward his horse; continuing his assertions as he'd adjust the saddle for a shorter rider, "That said, Wyverns only tend to show up in the vicinity of a much stronger dragon... Which means that even if its a similar case to the Cyclops we fought back in Redwater Point, its unlikely to be alone."

"The two of you can ride on my horse while we take you two back to the village you're staying in. If we find Elnith on the way there that'll be all the better. Should we run into any Harzel knights, they have little business trying to stop us now that we know the culprit behind these attacks is a dragon. Which begs the question..."

Reinhardt's gaze swiveled to their Elven tag along, "It may not be a Fomorian like we'd originally thought, but would you still be willing to lend your aid to this hunt Sir Elf?"

@Rune_Alchemist@Crimson Paladin@Cu Chulainn

Reinhardt listened intently to the words of the two children; slowly nodding as he came to understand their situation.

From the sound of it-- Elnith had indeed been to this village previously, even managing to stave off the 'midnight-skinned Fomorian' during one of it's attacks. Further, if the little girl's description of the creature was to be believed...

This wasn't a Fomorian.

It was a dragon.

Or at least something similar to such a beast; the likes of which hadn't been seen since the King's old hunts of glory... Especially not the black-scaled kind.

Regardless of whether or not the creature in question was the genuine article-- there was something that needed confirmation. Kneeling down as Ethelred asked his questions first; Reinhardt carved something into the ground with the tip of his finger before looking back to the little girl.

"You mentioned a glowing orange crest on the creature's chest. Did it look like this?

@Rune_Alchemist@Crimson Paladin@Cu Chulainn

"Dammit!" Reinhardt hissed as the Fomorian hed harpooned launched itself toward him, the creature's sudden lunge catching the Knight by surprise! Without a moment's hesitation his fist cocked back; intending to meet the creature head-on!

Fortunately (or unfortunately) the Fomorian would never get the chance to be properly introduced to Reinhardt's fist-- as a staff would mercilessly strike the creature from the air! Releasing a small sigh, Reinhardt gave the Elven Warrior a small nod in thanks.

"Even outside the Laughing Wood-- it never ceases to amaze me how little regard for their own life Fomorians have... Especially ones as weak as these." the knight irritably grumbled as he dismounted his steed and wiped the blood from his harpoon with a rag before stowing the tool once more. Kneeling down, he'd briefly examine one of the slain Fomorian corpses; noting that none of their number seemed to be malnourished or hurting for food... Was there perhaps a den of these Fomorians nearby? Some sort of outpost for whoever was orchestrating these attacks?

The Knight's gaze turned toward the children as he rose to his feet once more.

Retrieving a waterskin from his horse's pack and removing his helm, Reinhardt approached the boy holding the sword; taking a swig himself to show that the contents were safe to drink, before offering the waterskin to the children. "I apologize for the rudeness of our Elven companion-- but yes, Sir Ethelred here and myself are indeed Knights; just not Knights of Harzel. I am Sir Reinhardt... Now-- as the Elf was asking, do you know anything about the creature that attacked this village? Further; why are the two of you out here alone?"
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