Rosenrot

Current Mood in One Gif

I'm so fucking tired but I won't get to sleep for at least another... 3 hours. Just end me, tbh.

What Are You Listening To?

The Plague Knight Chronicles: Chapter 1

Lua was pleasantly surprised to learn the armored stranger knew more of the Curse than most. The apprentice had just opened her mouth to respond to Mergoux when the ground slipped away beneath her feet. Some distance below, she landed on her back, knocking the air from her chest. Dirt and dust choked her lungs as she tried to regain her breath. In the dim light, she could see Lucian's hand reaching down to her. The apprentice accepted his assistance. Once she was on her feet, Lua looked around, making out what she could of their surroundings. Some sort of catacombs, no doubt attached to the church above. At least it wasn't the sewers. Just the idea of being ankle-deep in human waste was more horrifying to Lua than any corpse-strewn tunnel.

“Yes, Sir.” Lua reflexively responded, pulling the browned mask down from her face. The once-red cloth was soaked with muck. The apprentice retrieved her wax as ordered and ran the pink brick down one of her swords, then the other. An orange light emanated from one of the bone mage's adornments after the dark-skin woman had beseeched some unseen entity. In the brighter light, one could see a glistening coating along the edge of her blades, a little present for the Cursed.

A child's voice called out for help and Lua frowned deeply. Was this a trick of the Cursed, or simply a very unlucky child? Most likely, the former. The sharp sound echoed off stone walls, making its origin difficult to pinpoint. Another cry rang out and Lua whirled, swords readied. She took a step in that direction, only to hear another wail come from the opposite way. “Which damned way is-” Lua started when another sound came echoing to them.

Bonk

Bonk

Bonk

A skull, barely big enough to fill one's hand, bounced out of the dark and rolled towards the group. Lua set her jaw and looked at Lucian. “Guess it's that way.”

What Are You Listening To?

The Plague Knight Chronicles: Chapter 1

Lua's eyebrows lifted as Shiara snatched up the old raven's shovel at the first opportunity. This dreary morning was proving to be more interesting, and irritating, than she'd expected. The armored stranger joined in the conversation without introducing herself, merely giving a nod towards the Raven Lords before posing questions to the impudent bone woman. Lua returned Mergoux's nod before looking to the mage.

“You want to have a chat with the Cursed? Be my guest. When he gives you one of these, you'll understand our business.” She said harshly and swept back the damp hair obscuring a wide scar along her forehead. The central, jagged mark was dotted along one side with tiny scars, showing where crude sutures had once reattached part of her scalp. As long as Shiara was holding one shovel hostage, the apprentice had twice the digging to do, so she set to work.

When she disturbed the surface, a bubble briefly appeared in the mud before popping. Decomposition gases? If the corpse was rotting normally, that was good news. Still, she should've been able to smell the rot, even through her mask. Another shovel-full, another bubble. That wasn't right. Lua had desecrated more than her share of graves, and that was too much gas. She pulled the mask from her face and sniffed.

That smell... Not rot, not shit, but...

Dust?

What Are You Listening To?

The Plague Knight Chronicles: Chapter 1

Lua’s irreverence was poorly concealed inside the church. She made no effort to clean her boots before entering and left her face masked. She had been raised in the ways of the old gods she was named for, though her family’s practices were a well-kept secret. While Lucian explained their intent to the incredulous bishop, Lua stood silently with her arms crossed. She thought about the day another holy had come to the hamlet where she grew up. He’d come with shields of red and white for her father, and all the men, to carry.

-30 minutes later-

The bishop tried to deter them from their morbid endeavor with warnings of damnation. Lua failed to suppress a scoff. If they burned their dead to begin with, instead of burying them, this could’ve been avoided. Unsurprisingly, the bishop was easily persuaded and soon, she was following her mentor towards the hanged man’s grave.

A voice called out across the graveyard, another person telling them not to disturb the graves. Lua looked the woman over from afar. The stranger’s posture told Lua she wouldn’t be as easily swayed as the bishop. Somewhat further off, another figure was visible, though that one seemed content to watch and wait, for now.

“It appears we’ve attracted an audience as well as an interloper.” Lua grumbled to her mentor as she drove the shovel into the wet ground at her feet. Best to have both hands readied until they could better assess these strangers. Her eyes remained on the newcomers while her fingers drummed on the hilt of the sword hanging by her right hip. She was becoming irritated with others interfering in their business, wasting their time. Guards, priests, and now... Lua scowled over her mask. “Who are these people?” She thought aloud, then glanced upward to the ravens circling overhead.

One bird veered off, descending as it passed over the strangers, though it remained well above them all. Lua was still early in her apprenticeship and her ability to see through her raven’s eyes was unreliable, but good enough in this case. She could discern that neither newcomer was dressed like an average resident of Kenfort. The more distant one appeared to be heavily armored and that was concerning. News of a brawl amongst such an... eccentric group, in the cemetery no less, would spread quickly. Lucian had made her aware of the rumors already circulating about themselves and their fellow Raven Lords. At best, the resulting xenophobia would cripple their investigation. At worst, fear and paranoia could make the common people more susceptible to the curse and the whole city could begin to turn. “Time to make another friend, Lord Barrett?” She asked, jerking her head in the direction of the vocal stranger.

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

The Plague Knight Chronicles: Chapter 1

The stenches of rot and ruin were not as bad as the reek of cities, Lua had come to know, and Kenfort would apparently be no different. The smell grew with the morning light and the persistent drizzle did nothing to ease the mounting stench. As they neared Kenfort, Lua noticed that the stagnant air was increasingly saturated with something more perturbing than just the smell of shit, something rain couldn't wash away. She groaned.

Apprehension tingled in her hands and feet, working its way up her limbs. Lua shifted in her saddle and her chainmail tunic rattled. Around her waist, there was a thick black belt with two curved short-swords attached. She rolled her right shoulder to adjust the pauldron resting there. The unfamiliar weight of new armor was always uncomfortable for a while. A red and black crest skillfully painted on the rounded metal was already marred with a fresh scratch. The mismatched piece covering her opposite shoulder was heavily scuffed and dented; cracked leather straps barely held it in place. It needed to be repaired or replaced, but refugees were poor employers and a Raven Lord's purse was perpetually light.

Lua brushed dampened hairs from her face with a black-gloved hand. A scrap of leather held most of her dark hair back, but the shoulder-length strands were quickly coming loose. A single glance at the refugees walking beside her, vulnerable in only their ragged clothes, reminded Lua how fortunate she was to be so uncomfortably well-armored. The survivor's faces were the most difficult for her to look at, though. They were dirtied, bloodied, and expressionless as they slogged through the mud while the Raven Lords shepherded them towards safer pastures. Their blank stares, aimed not quite at the ground, not quite at the sky, told her that they were reliving the horrors they'd just escaped. Not nearly enough time had passed for Lua since she'd been so much like them and her own features soon took on the same slack expression. One hand left the reins and her fingers repeatedly stroked the tanned scar running along her hairline. In her mind's eye, distorted images were taking shape.

Fire, metal, screams, fire, metal-

A sudden bark snapped the young woman from her unpleasant memories. Her hand quickly returned to the reins. The dog's noises seemed muted, stifled by the weight of the air, but still the animal's aggression was unmistakable, an early harbinger of the Curse. Leather creaked against leather as her hands tightened anxiously around the reins. Whatever peace the survivors hoped to find here would undoubtedly be short-lived. Ahead of her, Lord Barrett looked over his shoulder at her and gave a slight nod towards the front of the group. Lua's boot-heels dug into her mount's ribs and the unremarkable beast quickened its pace. The swords hanging from her belt bounced in time with each trotted stride. The old raven pulled ahead of the refugees and she was close behind.

Just before they reached the gate, she pulled up the red cloth encircling her neck, covering her mouth and nose against the stench now burning her nostrils. Behind her mask, she smirked at the exchange between Lucian and the guards. Her mouth was hidden, but the glint in her dark eyes betrayed her amusement. Few argued with Lord Barrett, and none for long. There was some fun to be had, though, in guessing whether those who tried would survive the quarrel. The Kenfort men were smarter than they looked, though, and quickly acquiesced. Lua felt a pang of disappointment.

Through the opened gates, the church's pointed steeple made a towering silhouette over the nearby buildings and the refugees shuffled towards it, following the old Raven's instructions. The news relayed to Lucian by the Kenfort guard caused Lua's jaw to clench. She listened to her mentor's thoughts on their next step while they followed the survivors towards the church. She considered his suggestion carefully. Everything was a test with the old raven, and failure was not taken lightly. Lua did not want to spend the next leg of their journey penitently jogging behind her own horse, again.

“Agreed.” She answered loudly, trying to be heard above the urban cacophony. “First, we need to find where they buried him, see if he's risen yet. At least we don't have to worry about the family, since he already chopped 'em up for us.” She said in an unaffected tone. Her dark eyes scanned passersby, looking for signs of the Cursed. The citizens of Kenfort would likely pay no mind to someone muttering to themselves or picking furiously at a scab, and that was exactly how the Curse spread with such horrific ease.