Sol Grim

The Dead and the Dying

Dallen joined Elizabeth as she started browsing through the arsenal of weapons. He holstered a desert eagle and a magnum to either side of his hips, and needed both of his arms to pull the .50 caliber sniper forward. He sat down next to the sniper, while the others in the group went over the plan to enter the mall's back warehouse.

"We get through this city, we're clear of the military," Dallen said to Elizabeth. "We can all go our own ways, if anyone wants to." He suspected the woman wanted to be on her own for awhile now, though the little girl easily swayed her to stay. It was love. Something Dallen remembered, but wasn't sure if he could ever feel again. He wanted to stay with these people because he knew them, and the rest of the world was different now. "I think we should keep moving together, but I won't stop you from your decision. Here."

He handed her a gun and a mini flashlight. "We don't need to stay together, but we don't necessarily need to split up either," he said, then pointed up to one of the abandoned towers that loomed above them. "You go on foot to the warehouse, easier to avoid the walkers. We'll stay in that building for three days, if the horde blocks you in. If not, signal us on the roof if everything is okay, by nightfall. If we don't get the signal, we'll move in."

Giving Dallen a side glance as he sat down, she arched a brow in his direction wondering why he was there. Her attention was on the arsenal in the back, but she still listened to what he was saying even if it wasn't at the forefront of her mind. Forehead creasing as he mentioned going their separate ways, in all honesty Elizabeth couldn't say what it was she wanted to do. Everything felt so hopeless.

Reaching out for the gun and flashlight, she tucked them both away. “Thanks,” she said, giving him an appreciative nod. Her gaze following his hand, she stared up at the tower. After haring his plan and not finding any faults she agreed. A slight smile on her face, she confessed, “I really just didn't want Blake with me.” If things got too rough he'd probably end up stabbing her in the back and leaving her to the dead in a desperate attempt to get away. He wasn't a pathetic man. Clapping the man on the shoulder, she gave him an apologetic look since he was going to be the one stuck with him. But after seeing the way Dallen had handled himself back at the hive, she knew he wouldn't take any bullshit from him.

"Oh, was that it?" he smiled, almost forgetting the feeling of it. "I'll handle Blake, we just, haven't had the chance to relax enough for it yet." All of them were in survival mode, not really having much to say to one another than bark out orders and commands. Everyone had a voice though, and it's what kept them moving and alive.

Even if she didn't need to she said, “Keep her safe.” They both knew who she was talking about. Once she finished gathering her supplies, she rejoined the others as they finalized their plans to enter the warehouse.

Dallen looked over to the little girl. She had been with them since the start of it all now, about a month or so. Nobody really kept count of the calender days anymore. She was brave, and sometimes Dallen looked over at her for strength in himself. She was the only thing now in this world that brought a sense of calm. He held her hand and brought her over to his group, filling everyone in on the plan.

...

Steven used the bolt cutters to create an opening in the fence. While the horde of the undead could be heard from the side of the mall they were on, they couldn't be seen. All it took was for one of the walkers to see them, then seconds later the rest would be rushing after them. They had to be silent.

While Dallen, Erin, Briggs, and Blake climbed the unforgiving stairs up to the top of the tower next to the mall, the rest quietly went through the large lot and approached the warehouse doors. The pastor Leroy Book stayed on ground level outside of the fences, he remained in an alleyway inside the military truck.

"Our people are at the doors, let them in," Leroy spoke to the lady on the other side.

"Copy that," the lady's voice replied.

...

A backdoor swung open and Kenjen, Elizabeth, Steven and Ethan entered. The plan was to get in, gather any intel necessary, then signal they were okay and staying the night. Then in the morning, they would all be ready to exit the city together in the truck. The sun was rapidly dropping in the sky as darkness began to sweep over the city.

They were met by the woman they had just been speaking to, she spoke to Leroy from her handheld radio as she offered the group forward and into the warehouse. "We have your people, we will stick to the plan."

"Welcome," the elder lady spoke to them. She had a calm pose about her and a soft, kind smile. "I am Sarah Coffman. We didn't think there were any survivors left after the dead swarmed us in." She talked as she led them down hallway after another, a few of the mall group greeting them at each doorway. They were dressed like average people would at a mall, some of them holding rifles in their hands.

"We were swarmed to, been on the move ever since," Kenjen replied. "How many people did you say you had? We might not all be able to fit in our one truck." More and more of the members were revealed as they passed through the warehouse and into the actual mall.

"It's okay, we have busses under us in the garage," Ms. Coffman informed him.

"We thought you guys needed help?" Ethan chimed in. "If you got the transport and the people, I mean, if we all go at once we can clear the dead and be on the highway and out of this city by the next morning."

"Military truck like that, must be loaded with weapons," Coffman said. Everyone stopped, they were all standing by the hot topic store when Ethan raised his rifle at the lady.

"Not really, what's your game lady?" Ethan said, as the mall group all held their weapons up at the newcomers.

"Whoa!" Kenjen said, though he still aimed at one of the members. "Everybody calm down! We can still work together!"

"I was hoping I could at least get you all to the food court where the rest of us are, but this will have to do," Coffman spoke. "We've been here for about a month now, since it all started. There were more of us, but they didn't see it our way. And frankly, we're not accepting new members. Lower your weapons now or you all die."

"You die too," Ethan said back, aiming direct at her face.

"We just want your weapons and your truck," she said. "No one needs to die love, we're not murderers. I just came to the mall with my nephew to buy clothes for him. When all the dead came, the cowards and the murderers came out from the people here. They barricaded rooms and locked people out to die. My nephew was in the halls when I was locked in a store. He was torn apart alive, just on the other side of the gate. I survived because of a coward. We've killed them all, and we've taken back this mall. Now it is our home, and like our god has promised, he has brought you to us with weapons. But unfortunately you all are not allowed to stay."

"You killed the others but your not murderers?" Steven pointed out.

"It is not murder to kill for your own survival," she replied. "The strong will inherit the earth. Now please, lower your weapons."

"We've all lost people," Kenjen said. "No need for any more to die."

"You lower your gun BITCH!" Ethan commanded, now pressing his rifle to her forehead. "You go first!"

"I don't care for my life, child," she said. "It was our god's will to wreak the dead upon the living, because we are cruel and evil creatures. We are all dead. But if you lower your weapons, we will only take your things. Then we will let you go."

"Bullshit!" Ethan spat.

"We have others, they will kill you all if you do this," Steven spoke up.

"Our people are already after them as we speak," she informed. "There's no way out. Give up and live, or fight back and die."

The stalemate stayed strong, as everyone was pointing guns at one another. The rest of the mall group was joining in from the court yard area, all running up to help their own. They weren't dressed like normal mall people, instead they wore brown cloaks with hoods. On their faces they wore a dead person's face, skinned from the corpse and superglued to their own. They joined the standoff, but they only had knives on them.

"The fuck is wrong with there faces?" Ethan shouted.

"We are the skin-changers," the hooded face wearers all spoke as one.

...

Leroy smoked a cigarette as he was about to comm Dallen and tell him the plan was running smoothly. Instead he heard a noise, something like a rock flinging by and hitting the wall. He got out of the truck and looked around the alley, keeping his mp5 firm to his chest. Another rock flew by.

"Mother fuckers, who's out there?" Leroy spoke, his voice cracked and shaken. "I'm armed mother fuckers, come get some."

Behind him a door opened in the alley, and the undead started coming out. One by one, walkers filled the alley.

"Fuck!!" he said, Leroy opened fire.

...

By now the skies were dark, the silence broken by the rapid shots the pastor let loose. Dallen and the others of his group had reached their positions, all tired but ready on the top floor of a 42 floor abandoned building. Dallen had the .50 cal sniper set up at one of the opened windows, aiming down at the mall and getting a feel for the weapon.

The gunfire broke the plan, as Blake tried to reach Leroy through the handheld radio. There was no reply.

"I'll go back and check on him," Briggs said. "Keep looking for the signal."

...

Leroy fired off a few more rounds, taking out a majority of the undead. As he attempted to reload, a being rushed out and grabbed him from the back. His weapon fell, as he struggled with what appeared to be a walker, but it wasn't trying to bite him. Another one came out and grabbed Leroy, both were stronger than him and eventually held him still, while another came out. Now Leroy could see, in all his fear, they were not walkers. They were humans, wearing dead people's skin.

"Wait, wait..." Leroy spoke in a panic. "What do you want from me!?"

"Man dressed like a preacher yet he doesn't beg for his god when he's about to die," the skin changer in front of him spoke, his voice harsh and low.

"Who are you?"

"We are the cult, we are the skin changers," he replied. "Now we have your weapons. There is no longer a place for a man of god here, not in the new era."

They all pulled out their knives, and each of them stabbed into the pastor dozens upon dozens of times until he was dead. The lead skin changer had a smile under his worn dead face, as he ordered the rest to kill the ones in the tower.

The Dead and the Dying

CHAPTER 2: Survival in the Decay



The truck they used to escape the hive had proved to be extremely useful for them. Stockpiles of weapons and ammunition, from M16's to a rocket launcher, all neatly put away in the boxes in the back. Of course General Brooks wouldn't be able to let something like this go. Night after night, they kept moving and staying on the road. They slept in shifts, only stopping to move vehicles out of their way and to siphon more fuel.

The first few nights the helicopters could still be heard off searching for them, sometimes too close for comfort. Missiles with the ZVirus would fire off through the night's sky, each heading to different parts of the country. The general and his rogues were tearing the world apart, one city at a time. The virus spread like wildfire. It was already too late for things to be turned back to normal, even with them having the cure. Briggs and Dallen wanted to go back to the hive, to attempt to kill the rouges. Majority decision ruled out over it, as there were far to many under the general's rule. They needed an army.

28 days later the group was still on the road. They were parked on an empty highway in the hills just outside of the next city. The same as everything else, the city was still smoking at the heart of it. From the distance it looked just like Mecha city did after the chaos.

"Looks like a bad idea," Kenjen told the group. He was on top of the military truck with Steven, looking at the city through some binoculars. "...like everything else."

"We need food, medicine," Dallen started. "We can just drive through, if any of the walkers are there we have enough ammunition to get cleared and get out."

"We should have stayed in the country," Blake spoke up. "Found a farm, we need a place to stay. To hunker down. We can't keep running forever."

"They would eventually find us, you know that," Dallen said, speaking of the military rogues that created this outbreak. "We've lost them, but our trail leads here. We go through the city, we will lose their trail for good. Then we find a safe place, we just have to push a little longer."



By noon they all rolled into the city inside the truck. The engine was loud, but the city was empty. As the towers came closer into view, Leroy Book put an army helmet onto Erin's head that sunk her hair in. The little girl was the only one unarmed, but they had to bring her regardless. Nowhere was safe anymore.

"Keep the truck moving slowly," Dallen told the driver, Briggs. "We scavenge the surrounding area for supplies, only quick things. In and out. If we see the dead, blow your whistles and get back to the truck." Along with the weapon stash they stole from the general, they also had a few whistles and flares. "Ready? Now."

Briggs kept the vehicle at under 5 mph, pausing on the brakes frequently as a few of the group ran off in either direction. They ran into the nearby houses, using their melee weapons to break in if needed. Kenjen snapped a door open with a crowbar, then quickly ran inside and headed to the kitchen, where he filled his bag with various goods from a stocked pantry. Steven and Ethan both had luck on the other side of the street, coming away with canned goods and bottles of water. These homes were freshly evacuated, meaning those living in them probably didn't have the time to pack.

Everything went smoothly. All scavengers returned with loads of food, water, and over the counter meds. It was enough to last them a good long while, but not forever. When everyone returned back to the truck, they continued on at a faster pace. They had enough fuel to get them beyond this city, but what came after that no one knew.

Suddenly the radio on the dash of the truck crackled on with static, and what sounded like a voice. Briggs messed with the frequency until the voice was clearer. It was a woman's voice. "Help! Please, help us! ...trapped in the mall..."

Briggs drove the truck over a hill that overlooked the city. On the other side of the barren freeway was Meadows Mall, which was mostly surrounded with the undead. They huddled mostly around the large parking lot, except the warehouse area of the mall which was seemingly open and clear.

"Yes, you. The military truck. We saw you coming into the city," the voice continued. "Oh, please have a radio. Please, we've been trapped in this mall since it started. There's only a few of us, we're good people! Please, we'll run out of food soon."

As the woman spoke on, the group had a little talk amongst themselves. If they were to help, they would not only have to lose some of their supplies, but they could risk their lives. If they didn't help, those within the mall would eventually starve, or succumb to the undead masses that clawed the walls around the massive building.

"We're barely alive as it is," Blake told them. "Just keep going, we have to look out for ourselves."

"For once I might have to agree," the pastor added. "Being nice nowadays means being dead."

"Come on, are we savages already?" Kenjen spoke up. "We have to help them, because we're the only ones who can. That has to be what we're about. It has to."

"I'm with Kenjen," Steven added. "It's what's right."

"What's right will get us all killed Steven," Briggs said. "We have to keep moving. This is about survival now."

"Survival doesn't mean we abandon our own," Kenjen said. "It's us and them."

"Tell that to the general..." Blake added.

"I say we help," Ethan chimed in, feeling his conscience way over him.

The rest of the group looked over to Dallen, Elizabeth and Erin so that they may way in.

"Whatever the majority vote, we stick together," Leroy Book told them all. "At least until we're past this city and far away from here."

"I say we keep moving," Dallen finally said.

Only two votes left to decide, and the little girl's vote counted amongst them. They were a group now, and whatever the majority was, would be the direction they would all take.

The Dead and the Dying

“Lizzy, we're coming!”

Dallen tried the door. Locked. He gave a nod to Briggs, who fired three shells through the knob, splintering the wood frame. As they rushed in, private Cole released his grip on Elizabeth's throat and he reached for his baretta. Dallen fired first, striking the man down with two shots to his chest. Cole flung to the floor, losing his weapon and spitting up blood where he lay. Dallen stood over him with his handgun aimed at his face.

"W-wait..." Cole spoke. "I can..."

Dallen pulled the trigger, blowing the man's brains out from his skull and onto the cold flooring. Kenjen sighed, but was already adapting to the new situation, as he knelt down and picked the man's key card from his pockets. Leroy handed Kenjen the knife back as he took Cole's baretta. "Yeah," the pastor said. "Lets get the hell out of here."

Dallen took a knee next to Elizabeth and Erin. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a nod.

"I'm glad you're okay," he told her. "Now we have to go." There was no time for anything, as the action had already been placed. The room boomed with noise from the generators, and it didn't seem like anyone else in the Hive had been alerted. This was just Cole's thing, along with those that followed him.

"Check this out!" Steven yelled. He was at a terminal, clicking various buttons until the map of the hive popped up. "We have to get past another hall, a few stairs, and then we can get to the tunnel through that exit." He pointed at the map, indicating exactly where he meant. "Looks like the tunnel uses a lift to the top. We use that douchebags keycard and they'll think we're him. Hopefully."

"What's that?" Briggs asked, pointing to the top of the screen where many different smaller videos were playing.

"They access everything through the terminals," Stevens said. "Those are security cameras watching all of the rooms." Stevens clicked on the prisoner video, which was completely blacked out. "Cole must have blacked out our room so he could...well, you know."

"That means we don't have a lot of time," Dallen added.

"No, what's that!" Briggs said again, pointing at one of the screens.

Stevens clicked it to make it larger. The security camera overlooked a room with many cells within it. As more options appeared, Stevens clicked the images larger. There were things in the cells. Some appeared to be human, at least at one point. Others appeared more animalistic.

"They're experimenting with the virus," Kenjen spoke. "With, humans."

One of the creatures was as large as a horse, but it was black and brown colored, with gorilla sized palms and a wolf shaped snout. Its teeth were as sharp as a razor, and they covered the majority of its face. It crawled in its cell on all fours, twisting its head in all directions of the room. It was patiently waiting to be freed.

The next screen showed the scientists. They were working on something on their table, a few caged monkeys and rats making noise behind them. The screen after that showed a few of the soldiers, some walking down halls, some sleeping, others at desks or at the firing range. None of them knew they had escaped, at least for now. Stevens cracked his neck, then went to work using the keycard to engage in the terminal interface. Within moments, he had every screen blank and the doors they needed unlocked.

It was as simple as a swipe from the keycard, and the circular elevator came down to meet them. All of them bordered, then the rise began toward the top. It was quiet most of the way, with a few clanks and crinks sounding off from the old machinery. Then the alarm sounded and a flashing red light pulsed all around them.

"Relax," Stevens told the group. "The alarm is for the outage I just gave them. I kept the lift running, we should reach the top before any of them figure out what's going on."

A radio crackled on. "-Cole, Cole where are you..??-"

Kenjen pulled up the radio he took from the dead man.

"What are you doing?" Leroy spoke up.

"-One of the subjects escsaped from E4!- -Send help!-" Kenjen did his best Cole impersonation, trying to send whoever was on the other end toward the test subjects they had seen.

"-Copy that, on our way-" the radio voice told them.

It worked, and as the majority of the soldiers were distracted, the elevator reached the surface. The metal door opened up and the night's sky came into view, with hundreds of stars shining brightly throughout. The lift ended up becoming a helicopter pad, it was next to a few large warehouses and an even larger military base. A week ago this place was beaming with military life, now it was completely barren and silent. All those that stayed here stayed underground in the hive, for the most part.

Briggs gravitated the group toward a few military trucks, as they all quickly checked them. "Here!" Ethan called out, finding keys to one of them in the visor.

"I'm driving," Briggs said, which took no quarrel from the student. Once everyone was piled in, Briggs started the engine and they took off.

...30 minutes later...

The radio crackled back to life.

"-Impressive, I must say that was not expected so early on...-" the general spoke into the comm. "-And to take out four of my men in the process, very impressive.- -But I can't let you all go, especially so early into the apocalypse. You're all too important to the greater cause.-"

There was a silence, as no one took the radio to speak back.

"-There is no escape, all you've done is delay the plan.-" "-If the deadites don't get you, we will. I can promise you that.-"

Dallen grabbed the radio and turned it on.

"Looking forward to it," he replied, then threw the radio out of the window.

The Dead and the Dying

"Larson and Nelson. Or...you know, Nelson and Larson...?" Riley said with a sly grin.

"What about...Larson and associates?" Dallen replied, he couldn't hold his laugh in.

"Nelson and Larson it is," Riley said, ignoring everything Dallen had said.

The two of them were both in fine freshly tailored suits, looking into the blank office space they had just purchased to start their firm. It was not only the beginning of a successful lawfirm partnership, but it was the also the beginning of a great friendship. Dallen popped open the bottle of champagne and poured them both glasses.

"You think we'll make it?" Riley asked in a serious tone. He was confident in both of their abilities when it came to understanding justice and the legal system, yet nothing was ever certain.

"I know we will," Dallen said and clinked glasses with him. "We're survivors."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present Day: Day 6

Dallen stared blankly as the general smashed his best friends face into the cold floor. His brains were scattered, pieces still left remaining in the room.

The room went dark again. Ethan immediately began working on his lockpick, while Dallen remained motonless, his eyes starting to tear. It felt to him as if the silence lasted forever, but then a click sound and a sigh from Ethan.

"I got it unlocked," he said, the kid was clearly good at thievery. "Lets get the fuck outta here!"

"No, they're watching the hallway and that's the only way out," Briggs said. "We have to wait until the timing is right, when there's less of them. We have to be quiet."

"What?" Blake spoke up from his cell. "What if the timing is never right? What if they kill us all like that, one by one. Someone new tomorrow, I don't wanna go out like that! I mean, what have we got to lose?"

"Blake, you got Lucy and Gwen killed," Dallen stated. "If we get out of this, I'm going to kill you."

Blake immediately became silent.

"Briggs is right, we wait."

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Day 7

None of them slept well. Dallen dozed off for a moment or two, but to him it felt like he was awake the entire night. All he could think about was his daughter, and how he had failed her. Her voice rang into his head over and over again, her cries from when she was shot. His thoughts started to overlap reality for him. Dallen looked out onto the cold, dark floor and saw his daughter's dead corpse lying next to the bits and pieces of Riley's skull that still remained in the room. They were both dead, yet she still stood before him as if she were still alive. He wiped his eyes and smacked his head, and when he looked back toward her, she was gone. Was this even a reality anymore? Steven had thrown up in his cell, and that smell mixed with the flesh of Riley brought a reeking disgustful taste in his mouth.

Suddenly the lights flashed back on and the military rouges came back into the room. This time there were only three of them, led by private Cole. He quickly picked Elizabeth and they took her out of sight and down the hall. Dallen gave Ethan a nod and he quickly went back to work at opening the locks.

.....

Private Cole was the type of man who always wanted to do whatever he wanted, and this was finally his opportunity. Only a week in to the apocalypse and he was already planning on ruling others. His wife had left him several months ago, his sons hated him. All he knew was to take what he wanted, and forget everything else. At this moment, he wanted Elizabeth.

"Watch the halls until I'm done," Cole told the men with him, he was holding an unconscious Elizabeth over his shoulder.

"What about us?" one of them asked.

"What about you?" Cole said, his tone quickly intimidated the others. Cole had a reputation for cruelty, even in the military. "Watch the halls until I'm done, that's a mother fucking order soldier!"

"Yes, sir."

Private Cole went into the next room. There were large generators making enough noise to mask the surrounding area. He set Elizabeth down on the cold flooring and started to removed his shirt.

........

With the cages open, the seven of them quickly made their ways to the exit, leading to the hall. Dallen grabbed one of Ethan's lockpick's firm into a fist, nodding his head that he was ready. Briggs gave a nod back, knowing that none of them had much else for a choice. The door swung open and Dallen rushed out, he tackled the nearest soldier and stuck the pick as far deep into the man's throat as he could manage. The dying man gurgled on his own blood as Dallen kept prying the pick deeper, while also holding his dead weight and dropping him to the floor. It was the first person Dallen had ever killed, and yet it came so naturally. It was all about survival now. Briggs picked up the man's shotgun, giving Dallen his handgun. Kenjen got the knife stored in the dead man's boot.

"Why don't I get a weapon!?" Leroy Book whispered. "I'm a man of God, but I know how to shoot mother fuckers. I wasn't always a pastor, you know." Kenjen gave the pastor his tactical knife. "My man."

Briggs peered down the next hall, pointing up two fingers to let them know there were two enemies. With a quick sigh, Briggs turned the corner and opened fire. A few rapid shots from the shotgun easily mowed the soldiers down.

The sound was masked from the large generator noise, except private Cole heard everything. The private turned toward and away from an awaking Elizabeth, his knife holstered at his belt and his gun aimed at the door.

"What the fuck was that?" Cole shouted.

"We need him alive" Kenjen said, speaking softly to the others. They had the door surrounded, ready to burst in and save Elizabeth. "He can get us out of here."

Private Cole fired a few shots through the door to keep them back. For the moment he forgot about Elizabeth, as his back was turned to her.

Erin came peeking around the corner, her curious eyes watching the hallway stalemate. Dallen held his hand up to halt the others from entering, not sure if Elizabeth was dead or alive.

The Dead and the Dying

yay autosave!!! Finally!!

Edited my last post cause I was drunk lol.

The Dead and the Dying

so totally ripped resident evil and the walking dead lol. Just be happy I didn't leave it as a cliffhanger!

The Dead and the Dying

Day 6 morning

"Of course not," Dallen replied, closing the zippo and bringing them back into darkness. "Anyone have a lockpick?"

"Yeah," Ethan spoke up as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He suddenly had a new realization of hope, as he pulled a pick from his belt. Luckily the military men left them all alone with whatever they had on them. "Almost forgot." He immediately began working on his lock. "I used to break in to places, so sue me."

"We didn't say anything, brotha," Briggs chimed in. "You get us out of here, I'll praise you forever as the greatest theif that ever lived."

"Someone's coming," Riley quickly said.

Ethan put his pick away as bright lights suddenly lit up the room. Everyone all had to experience the blindness together, taking some time for the majority to adjust to the sudden change. The steel door at the end of the room opened, and in walked three armed military men. They walked to the center of the room as a few more soldiers entered the room and stood. Two of them approached the cages and opened them all, one by one. The group was pulled out and lined up in a half circle, all of them forced on their knees.

From left to right, Riley, Briggs, Steven Burwell, Erin, Ethan, Elizabeth, Pastor Leroy Book, Kenjen, Blake and finally Dallen.

The seemingly eldest of the soldiers stood firm in the center of everyone, two of his trusted men on either side of him. "My name is General Brooks, these two here are private's Cole and Peterson. We are the United States military, well, at least what's left of it. You will not speak unless spoken to, or there will be consequences. Every action has a reaction.

"Now, you're probably wondering why we dragged all of you way the fuck to the middle of nowhere. It's quite simple, really. I'll give you the jist of it, pictures included!" The general twirled one of his fingers and one of his men pushed in a projector into the room. "I'm more of a visual learner myself." He paused only to cough and clear his throat. "I know we just got adjusted to the light, but we're going back to the dark." Another wave, and the lights shut off, save for the projector screen. It was blank for the moment.

"Now, as you may know," he started again. "There are people dying and coming back to life, then they're eating everyone else. Kinda strange, if I do say so myself. The jist of it is, the world is at war. My men and I have been assigned to SG17-KV, otherwise known as the Hive. A military research facility built 70 miles under the surface. You are currently in the lowest level of the Hive, there is no escape.

"This facility was created for one purpose, and one purpose only. Create biological weapons of mass destruction for the United States of America."

"'Murica!" Private Cole shouted. His eyes were wide as he looked down each one of the prisoners.

"So when we heard that the President of our great nation decided to shut us down, we did the only thing we could," the General continued again. "We started world war 3."

"You started this?" Dallen couldn't help but to speak out. "You're all insane."

Cole almost rushed in to shut Dallen up, but general Brooks stopped him with a single motion.

"I can see how you might assume such, from a civilian point of view," Brooks said. "Mecha City was an accident. One of many missiles malfunctioned and came back on our soil. The mist is under our control. Ready for the big reveal? You, yes all of you, have the cure within you. I don't know how or why, hell I don't care. All I know, is my men have been ordered to watch Mecha City survivors. Something in your blood makes you immune to the virus, and now we need your blood to make an antitode. See, we're all here for a good cause. Perhaps the best cause of all, the cure."

A picture of the Hive they were all in came onto the projection.

"The entire military is behind this? The president?" Briggs spoke, not caring for the rule stated earlier about not speaking.

"No, no, no," the general sighed and pulled out his sidearm, aiming it at brigg's face. "The governement went dark on day 1, it's when everything started. It's been only six days since Mecha City was hit. In that time, we lost contact with the world. We took control into our own hands, and when everyone on the outside is dead, we will use the cure to make this world great again. Unfortunately, we'll be needing all of your blood to save the perfect humanity. See test subject number 13..."

The projection changed to a shirtless man, he was inside one of the cells they had all just been in. It took Dallen a moment to realize that it was Tyler, from back at the court building. Dallen looked to Elizabeth to see her reaction.

"It took us 12 subjects prior to the apocalypse to learn that we don't need to study your blood," the general said, lowering his sidearm back to its holster and pacing around the room. Private Peterson was handed a steel baseball bat, as he swung it around playfully a few times in the background. Private Cole had a wide smile across his face, as he knew they were getting to the good part. "All we need is the blood itself, and we've found out that the quickest and most efficient way to do that, is with private Peterson's friend there."

The private started to pump himself up, as everyone in the group started to realize that he was referring to the baseball bat.

"This is subject number 13 after the procedure," the general said as the projection changed to another image. It was of Tyler's corpse, his head caved in from the bat to where he was unrecognizable.

The soldier's all raised their rifles and aimed at the group, keeping them in place. Dallen was already clenching a fist, though he also realized there was little he could do.

"We dump the body with our research team, and they come up with this," the general held up a green vile, the antitode to the virus. "I'm telling you all this because I don't like to bullshit people, you get everything up front with me. Now, we need to reserve supply, so you're all going back into your cages until we need more. For right now, just one of you will do."

A white sheet was sprawled across the floor, as the general slowly walked past each one of them. He only shook his head at the sight of the little girl, then nodded his head as if he was ready to choose one of them.

"You're all heroes," the general said. "Kill that one."

The soldiers rushed forward and forced all of them back into their cells, all except the one he had picked to go first. There was little any of them could do as they were all helpless. All they could do was watch.

Riley was dragged onto the sheet. He was terrified, as thoughts of his family were all he could think about. Private Peterson stepped in and smashed his steel bat over the lawyer's head, knocking him over into a shaking frenzy. The private continuously bashed in his head until he was tired himself. Then the men rolled the corpse into the sheet and dragged him away. The lights shut off completely again.

The Origin: A Devil Returned (Arc Two)

Bam. post up. I don't know what font to use to make the breaking sections look all fancy like, so you get bold. On another note, I'm trying to buy a house currently so I'll be quite busy for a little while, just letting you all know even though this rp is slow so it shouldn't matter. Cheers!! ((time to get drunk))

The Origin: A Devil Returned (Arc Two)

After they left the Remade village, Cyril led them forward until after the sun had fallen, and their horses had begun to stumble against unseen rocks and pits in the ground. In the dark they dismounted, and for awhile they struggled into Alasa had gathered enough to create a small fire. Suddenly, the darkness was forced to flee back into shadows as they stood there on the side of the road.

"Get as much rest as you can." Cyril ordered, pulling his own pack from his steed. "Alasa, you're on first watch with Sampson. Make sure nothing sneaks up on us in the night."

The sky was clear up above, and the ground dry beneath them. It was a perfect night to sleep out under the stars, picturesque even... And yet after what had just happened, what they had just seen and dealt with destroyed whatever peace there might have been. Diane, still splattered with mud, gave just a single glare in the direction of both Cyril and the Paladin before she set her own roll out upon the ground. The Sentinels stepped gingerly around her, in order not to set her off.

Alasa sat himself in one direction on the road, while Sampson sat on the other side of the camp. Gortul sat down, beginning to sharpen his axe, and Kisarin joined him, cleaning the bits of gore and coating of blood from his own blade. Alsius stood a little away from the spot picked as the camp for the group, a cigarette already smoking away. The Paladin, meanwhile, simply knelt by himself, and began to pray, even as Cyril sat down by himself and began to think.

Cyril did not consider himself to be any better than anyone else, especially when it came to unpleasant deeds. He had first wounded a man severely when he was fifteen, and then the next year he had ended up killing someone. Since then, try as he might to avoid it, every so often he had ended up killing a bandit; when the war had broken out, he had killed plenty as well.

Sometimes it kept him up, but he always fell back on how it had been necessary. It had been necessary to kill the bandits to keep himself and his friends alive. It had been necessary to kill the H'kelans for the same reasons. Gartian was a requirement simply because the man wouldn't have given up until dead.

Seeing torture like that was a different matter entirely. He still felt sick to his stomach. Perhaps there had been no way around it either; the entire village had been Remade, beyond helping, but there was a difference between killing in self-defense and interrogation...

Slowly, he shook his head. It was the first time he had ever seen any number of Remade, and he didn't want to see one ever see again. Their drive, their fanaticism, it was something beyond mere mortals could do; and the way that the man had instantly gone from weeping to singing praises, even as the nails within him began to burn that was completely, utterly unnatural.

The Gifted had fought against that for years during their war. What had they had to do in order to survive? In order to be able to function? How had they gathered the resolve they needed to do that time, and time again.

How could Yaguar, a man who had fought against those who could Remake, fall to using it himself, nevermind how was he able to do it in the first place?

He brought both of his hands together, interlocking his fingers as he stared towards the fire. He felt sick, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Stark and Damon

Through the quiet travels leaving the Remade village Stark absently chewed on the inside of her cheek-deep in thought. So many questions were whirling in her head-this information was bad news. From the few stories Alice had told her during their starting travels- The Gifted, like Ser Joachim were the ones who fought against the Remade...the people like in that village and eventually the people who MADE the Remade. How did they even do such a thing? Why do such a thing?

What would happen if this power was unleashed again? Stark knew very little, outside of the verbal story telling she had heard from Alice and some of the stories she had been able to read in texts in the library, about details of the last time something like this had happened.

Her thoughts were snapped in half as Alasa lit a fire and Cyril gave them all orders to rest. Stark felt her eyes follow Damon to where he went off to pray.

She began to chew on her cheek again, now raw and bleeding, as she thought back to what had even happened inside of the village. What her teacher had done. She had nothing but pure adoration of the man and trusted him with every fiber of her being but she wasn’t quite able to understand just what he had done. Whatever he had specifically done was brutal- the noises they had all heard had been testimony to that- and had infuriated Diane at the sight of it. She glanced at the woman, feeling her shoulders sag at the emotions written all over her face, as she finished setting up her own space on the edge of the fire light before pausing and glancing over at Damon once more.

She steeled herself as she squared her shoulders and crossed the camp to where Damon prayed. Stark took a knee, clasping her hands together as she quietly spoke prayers of her own.

The Paladin’s prayers continued on, unaffected by Stark’s presence. The man just continued his murmurs:

”... let Silvae forgive me, even as I depend upon Danmun’s strength; let Yumio understand, even as I seek for Azim’s blessing…”

In a cycle he went around, pleading one Divine’s forgiveness while asking support from the next; he continued even after all Seven had been exhausted, so that in turn each Divine had been both asked for forgiveness and assistance for what was to come. Only then did he finally open his eyes, relaxing ever slightly, as he brought one hand up to push his glasses up his nose slightly.

”Ye have questions, dear child?”

Stark prayers had been shorter- her kind scarcely able to put forth the focus to ask for guidance and to give her strength.

She’d stilled when her teacher finally finished and addressed her. She was quiet for a moment longer before simply asking, ”What happened? What did you do?” there was no accusatory tone to her voice or any kind of negativity. Simply the desire to understand.

”What I had to do.” The Paladin spoke simply, continuing, ”I nailed him to the wall to keep him still, to prevent him both from attacking me and possibly ending his own life. I was prepared to do more as necessary, but the King’s presence forced my hand to become even heavier, to reveal his condition.” He did not ask for understanding, or forgiveness.

Stark swallowed hard as she listened to Damon explain what he did. She, of course, had killed people and done terrible things but that was in battle. That was in war. This...this was done after the fighting had finished. ”Do you regret it? What you did to that man? Was there No other way to prove to His Highness about that man’s state?”

”I cannot regret what I did. It was what was necessary; the fact that they were not screaming Yaguar’s praises while in combat proves that they were prepared to go to the grave with their secret. Only through pain could I force them to the point of despair where they would call upon their perceived savior.”

”Perceived savior…” Stark quietly echoed back before adjusting and facing Damon fully. ”If we can kill Yaguar will the Remade go back to the way they were? If there are others, I mean. Will they go back to their own mind and body and sense and never have to endure such pain again?”

He shook his head. ”There is no guarantee. Some will immediately descend into madness, and kill each other. Some will fall into the deepest depression, and end their own lives. Some will never be the same again, shattered fragments of a person. Very few, if any, will become what they once were.”

She couldn't help the hand that covered her mouth or the fear and disgust flash across her face.”So being remade takes away everything that makes someone human...it turns them into a doll…” It was the easiest way for her mind to process everything before more questions came. ”If that is what happens to them then it was a mercy killing back in the village. What we did. It was out of mercy.” Of course she understood it was to protect themselves but before she could vocalize that another, much darker thought, bubbled up.

”Mister Dubois...if one of us is somehow remade...what will you do?” she knew what the answer would be but she needed to hear it.

”Put ye down as swiftly as I can.”

Her throat tightened once more and she felt pinpricks in her eyes- blinking away the tears threatening to fall with sheer will power. ”How can one avoid being Remade? Not all of us are Gifted…” Despite the set of her brow and the strength of her will her voice still shook.

Slowly, Damon shrugged. ”I do not know how Yaguar sets out Remaking yet. All I can suggest is to avoid being caught.”

Fear was crawling up her spine now. ”We’re going to lose people aren't we…” It wasn't a question. Stark closed her eyes for another moment before giving a half bow to Damon- a habit she still has yet to break. ”Thank you Teacher. If you’ll excuse me.”

”I wish I had something more pleasant that I could tell ye. But I will not lie to ye.” He nodded deeply.

”The day you lie to me is the day the world ends.” She quietly said over her shoulder as continued back towards her resting spot;hands in fists to hide the shaking and a sad smile on her lips.

Stark and Godfrey

Godfrey’s kettle bubbled on the tiny burner, the merry and diminutive rumbling of the water boiling contrasted with the stunned, sickened silence that surrounded it. The king had called for rest, but after having experienced that surprise attack, Godfrey wasn’t exactly up on resting just so much. Instead, next to his kettle, he’d set up the apparatus he’d used to make the enhancement concoction for the Pirate, and busied himself with preparing the ingredients to make some more of it.

Formulae flashed through his mind, and he set out several vaguely-labeled flasks and bottles on the flat workspace that his cart provided.

Silently, he looked over the group, counted how many there were, and then looked back down at his supplies. Maybe he’d have enough to make a dose for each person, if he was stringent and didn’t waste anything. He sighed, rubbed his head.

Stark had quietly sat down and observed Godfrey- though not really paying attention to his actions. The quiet of the night and the silence of the group was driving her insane as her own thoughts just echoed louder and louder. ”What are You creating Ser?” she quietly asked with a tilt of her head.

He regarded her, and a vision of Stark, but faster and stronger, danced across his eyes. “This,” he said with a bit of vocal flourish, “is a concoction that increases the amount of information you can intake during a fight, effectively making you faster than everyone else.” He let a little bit of pride slip through his words, despite the general malaise that the party suffered. So long as someone was watching, he would definitely have a bit more energy.

“It increases production of adrenaline, and opens up the receptors for that adrenaline, so that the world effectively slows down around you…” he began, and rattled off for a good fifteen seconds about this effect and that function. “Truly,” he said, and held up a flask which had just finished distilling, “better than magic.” He turned, and grinned a half-grin at Stark.

“This is the same infusion that I gave to the pirate, who repaid me with such wonderful face markings as I still have. You can ask him if you don’t believe me!”

Lighten the mood a little, maybe that will help raise the spirits.

Stark tried to give at least a smile as Godfrey explained what he was making. ”I dont doubt you See Godfrey. If his Highness believes you enough to bring you with us then I don't doubt your creation. Does it work with all kinds of people or strictly non magic users?”

That question brought him to a dead stop.

“I’ve never even thought about that. Stark, you brilliant thing, I’ve never tested it on a magician before, and I would never have even thought about it! This is why I keep you around,” he said, and pulled a sheaf of paper from a portfolio in the cart. The papers were covered in scribbles and formulae, but he found the one he was looking for with no effort.

“...I don’t see why it wouldn’t work, but I have no idea if magical residue in the body will change the effects. I’ll have to run tests-- and that would have to be separate tests for those with inherent magical abilities, those with acquired abilities, and those with abilities granted by the Divines…” He trailed off for a moment, then looked back at Stark.

“You brilliant girl!”

Stark couldn't help but tilt her head curiously as Godfrey praised her. Such an odd thing to say to someone just asking questions. She pulled her knees in towards her chest and hugged her knees as she followed his train of thought. ”I think a good person to test would be on Miss Leon- er. Alice. She doesn't have strong magical presence but she is able to spell her sight when she is using her weapons. She might help you. Maybe Christopher? He is a half Divine and so is Ser Drosil Detail and Shadar. They might give you different results.” Stark paused and chewed on her cheek again before swallowing and speaking against, ”I can offer my own services as well. I was born is above average sight and hearing due to my bloodline so that would give off results…” She flushed before adding quickly, ”I think! I'm not sure though. Uh, I just was thinking aloud. I'm sorry. “

He scribbled down the names she’d mentioned. “Tonight’s not the night to start these tests, no. Nobody would be in the right mindset for it. Nobody but me, that is, ha ha…”

There was a brief pause, and suddenly, he straightened up, and tucked the papers back into their place. “I, uh… I got a little excited. My apologies,” he said. “I’m not a mad scientist, despite being both a scientist and what others might call mad now and again.”

He leaned back on the cart. “What’s this about a bloodline--” he started, but just then, the kettle whistled right next to him, and he jumped with a start. “Ye Divines!” he cursed, and put his hand on his chest, taking a breath.

“...it seems tea is up, if you’d like a cup?” he said, and, with another deep breath, shut off the tiny burner and picked up the kettle.

Godfrey was such an odd man but Stark couldn't help but chuckle under her breath as he gave apology. ”No need to apologize Ser. No harm done.”

Never had Stark been so thankful for a kettle to scream, though she winced at the noise, than in that moment. She pushed away the anxiety building inside as Godfrey offered a cup of tea. ”Yes please.”

She perked up after a moment before twisting around and pulling her pack closer to her body- flipping back the top flap and pulling out various items. A book of the Divines, bundles of first aid supplies. A water skin. ”Aha! she exclaimed as she pulled out a simple silver tin.

She replaced the things in her bag before popping the tin with a smile. Inside was a sizable bundle of dried meat and a cloth around a bundle. She undid the bundle to reveal cookies; vibrantly colored for some. Others had cute designs. There were one or two plain looking ones as well. ”A friend of mine at the castle made these for me. He said they were called sugar cookies. I hadn't had a chance to try them before we had to leave. Think it'll taste good with tea?” Stark looked up at him with a smile in her offering.

“You’ve never had sugar cookies before? Oh man, strap yourself in, this is going to be a ride for you,” he said, and put a pinch full of dried, dark leaves into the scalding water. He set a teacup and, lacking another one, a round glass flask next to the kettle, and bustled in his things to see if he’d brought any cream.

“Depending on where you get them,” he started, “they are called different things. They are primarily butter and flour, with sugar to sweeten the deal. My manservant used to have them brought in from all over the world-- there’s such a dearth of variety! Lavender, nuts, thyme… Of course, I’m terrible at baking, despite it really just being another chemical reaction based on applying heat to a mixture.”

As he spoke, he poured the tea into the cup and flask, and handed the cup to Stark. “Do you know how much further it is before we get where we are going? I kind of wasn’t really paying much attention.” Truthfully, he liked being around Stark, even if the situation wasn’t the best.

Stark shook her head, ”Mistress never liked my Lady having sweets and that rule extended to the rest of the house. I recently discovered that cakes can actually be different flavors other than vanilla. I got a stomach ache from eating too many flavors too fast.” She mused quietly as she watch Godfrey work with the herbs.

She nodded in understanding about the not cooking. ”When Miss Alice found me she did all the cooking after I burned a hole through her cooking pot in our travels. I just gather the food and she cooks it. The cooks at the castle don't let me cook either. Not after I burned salad once.” Stark smiled into the back of her hand before she grabbed one of the cookies with a cute design and bit into it. She positively melted as she tasted the baked good.

”It's so gooooood.” she quietly stated as she took smaller bites- as though saving it and savoring the flavor. The water mage corrected herself and lowered the cookie before wiping away crumbs, ”I believe we should be arriving into Kyora tomorrow. Perhaps midday or so
“ Looking around camp she sighed, ”Don't expect to be there long Ser. It's not a time for dilly dallying unfortunately. It may be best if we are constantly on our toes.”

He nodded, sipped his tea. “I am only here because I am on my toes all the time, I suppose. Being doctor, chemist, and prescriptionist is a lot of work.” And poisoner, and delivery boy, and gravedigger, and…

At least it was quiet. For now. Who knows what kind of trouble they would meet with when they actually reached the city? And what would happen thereafter? It was in Godfrey’s best interests to not be left behind or killed, so he resolved to be at least useful enough to be considered worth keeping around until this whole thing blew over. He looked at the rapier and pistol hanging from the belt on the cart, and rolled his eyes slightly.

“Truthfully, Stark, I’m not the best person to have in a fight. I’m kind of cowardly, and not very great at anything but a gentleman’s duel. The king appointed me with some fancy title because I was useful once, minorly. I’m not really sure why I didn’t just tell His Majesty that I could not possibly leave my shop…”

Stark finished off her cookie and was already going for another one but fell short as Godfrey spoke. ”No one expects you to fight Ser. I mean no insult but we all knew you were joining us as an alchemist- not a fighter like near all of us. With that aside we will all do what we can to protect our own.”

’Put ye down as swiftly as I can.’

She visibly flinched as Damon’s words echoed through her head- playing it off as a cough into her hand. ”Do you think perhaps you didn't tell him that because you subconsciously wanted to go?” The girl could be thought provoking...sometimes.

“What? Divines, no, this is a nightmare. You think I’d hang around the king on purpose? In my line of work?” he said, and then blinked hard. “I mean, being a chemist and all that.” His eyes landed briefly on the small, nondescript case strapped to the front of the cart.

“No, adventure is not my style. I like things to be self-contained, easy to study, easy to execute. Travelling wasn’t really something I did as a kid, either-- My, uh, good father preferred I stay on manor grounds for the most part.” He decanted another vial of the concoction, and then sipped his tea again.

“Why are you part of this… this whole thing?” he asked back.

”I don't really see what being a chemist has to do with not being around a King but I’ll trust your judgement.” She cool stated before sipping on her tea as he continued to speak before pausing at the question directed towards her being there.

Stark slowly lowered the tea and looked down at the cup in her hands, ”I didn't have anywhere else to go…” She couldn't tell him she had a bounty on her head from Jasi- it would scare him off. So she kept it vague.

”I was forced to flee my home in Jasi and ended up here. Miss Alice saved my life and we traveled together. We traveled to Gurata at one point and came across his Highness when he was still a Prince and the Sentinels and Alice asked to join them. I didn't want to be alone so I went with them.” There was a heavy pause before she continued with a slight smile, ”I honestly hadn’t expected to stay here this long but everyone here accepted me and welcomed me and didn’t see me as the servant i used to be. They saw me as their equal and...I just couldn’t leave that.” Her ever reflective eyes scanned over their campsite before looking to Godfrey, ”The longer you stay with us the more at home you’ll feel. I promise.” It was such an innocent heart filled statement.

Godfrey leaned back, let that idea sink into his mind. “Hopefully we will be able to ‘be at home’ in better circumstances than an active murder investigation and subsequent surprise attack by people dispossessed of their humanity sooner than later.” He rubbed the bruise on his knee tenderly. “I mean, I like a good friendly duel as much as the next guy, but that was a little overboard, don’t you think?”

Overhead, the sky was dark but clear. Godfrey looked up at it absently. “In the end, everyone’s pretty equal. Some people have better genes or are smarter or are stronger or whatever, some people are resistant to diseases or poisons, some people are great at solving puzzles and mysteries, some people can throw around mumbo-jumbo primordial energies like it’s a toy. Everyone’s good at something, I guess. Who’s to say what things are more important than others?”

He paused for a second, then grinned slightly. “Well, besides me.”

”With the villagers being Remades,” Stark put and extra emphasis on the ending word, ”What would have happened to them if we hadn't killed them would have been cruel. There is no fixing a Remade person Godfrey. Killing them breaks the strings that their controller has. It lets them die as humans- not dolls.” Starks throat had a knot in it before she continued quickly.

”We all may be made the same but society as we know it forces us to be grouped. The haves and have nots. Sadly, this is a world I was forced into. Being a have not made me realize that family isnt sitting under a roof with food maybe available. Its sitting under the stars surrounded by people I trust and care about. Its waking up knowing you're welcome and don't have to look down when passing people in the halls. Having some sort of a home is being happy with those around you is what I'm trying to say I think.”

Stark flicked a crumb at Godfrey, “Oh really now? I would throw the idea that those with the brains and those with the power make the decisions but it seems you think you can fall into those categories.”[/b] Of course she was teasing as she finished off her tea and another cookie.

“Well, of course. I:m both the smartest and the most powerful person around here,” he said, and stretched. “Nobody is smarter than me, ever, anywhere in the world. And the smartest are the most powerful. And the most powerful get to make the rules, no? So the only rule I made is that I get to make the rules. You can be my Chief Baking Advisor.”

The last of the concoction finished distilling, and he decanted it out. All in all, he had eight doses of the adrenaline-boosting, prescience-granting concoction ready for the next incident that would go down.

“You’ll be in charge of making sure nobody has a cookie deficiency in the realm. Think you are up for the task, Chief Baking Advisor?”

Stark couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. ”You got it boss!” she cheerfully stated back just before a yawn began to creep up on her.

”How about we start in the morning okay boss? I think it's time for rest.” she offered as she closed her tin of cookies and wiggled into her little sleeping area. ”Don't stay up too late boss. We still have to travel.”

“Tomorrow it is, chief. Get some sleep, I’ll clean this stuff up and follow suit.” As she settled down, he busied himself with washing up the pieces of glassware and putting them away on the cart, before unlatching one of the sides of the cart, which laid out flat just large enough to sleep on, providing he didn’t kick around too much. What happened in the morning would have to wait until the morning-- after today, he was tired too. He rolled onto the surface, and wrapped himself up in his jacket.

Around the fire

Just when Dalious had accepted the fact that he killed so many people in his past, he had to come across and kill four more innocents. They tried to kill him, so he felt justified. However, it was after the matter that he found out they were under some magic. Maybe had he known prior, he might of tried to just knock them out, and the thought of it was eating away at him. He tried to shake it from his mind, drinking more rum to cool his nerves.

Pulling off his leather armor and placing it on the ground, he grabbed one of his canteens and a rag, then started to clean the blood from the sigil carved at the center. He cleaned it even after the mess was gone, trying to keep himself busy until weariness drew over him. Looking to his right, he realized he was sitting next to Diane. While others seemed to avoid her, mainly for her wrath, he decided to give it a shot. He felt a bit of sympathy for the woman after all that had happened lately, and wanted to ease her evening if even slightly.

"Would you like me to clean the mud off of your clothing for you?" he asked. "...I mean, not while you're wearing it of course. Or, not that I mean for you to get naked...I, well you would have to get naked, but...I mean, assuming you could change into something else. Behind a tree or something, I wouldn't look at your nude body...not, not that you don't have a nice body. I would look at your nude body, umm...not without consent, of course..." He realized he was digging the hole deeper, so he turned his attention to the meat cooking over the fire. "Is that done yet!?"

At first, Diane didn't even look over to the pirate, focused entirely upon the fire in front of her as she continued to stew in her own anger. However, as he began to speak and kept at it, embarrassing himself further and further, she began to slowly turn her head towards him. Her expression had settled into something that wasn't quite anger or indifference, but something in between; a cold sort of irritation that seemed unusual for Diane, who was known to be quick to hit things.

When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm, all things considered. "No, thank you. I'm not so desperate yet that I need my possessions pawed and myself ogled yet. Perhaps if you had any sense, maybe, but considering that you asked the question at all that clearly isn't the case." Suddenly she stood, picking up her bedroll and dragging it away with her.

Across the fire, Kisarin couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He had finished cleaning his blade by that point, the massive hunk of metal standing where it was stabbed into the ground, and it was he who was cooking the meat. Just a little while before Sampson had slipped into the camp proper with a few dead rabbits, and in a matter of moments Kisarin had them skinned and placed over the fire.

"Didn't go too well, did it my friend?" He shrugged, looking back down to the rabbits. "Give it a couple of minutes and these should be ready, at least. Consolation prize."

Dalious sat next to the fire, watching Diane leave from sight. Everything they said about her was true. He let out a huff, then carefully sniffed at his canteen filled with rum. "That normally isn't how it goes with the ladies, I swear!" he said as if he were defeated in combat. "Someone's tainted my rum." He said with a silent point towards Stark's direction. Drinking liquor while riding a horse all day gave the pirate a steady buzz for the night, along with the muscle cramps to go along with it. "I should have heeded the warnings that are spoken about her. Avoid eye contact, best for everyone."

Dalious shifted his sense of smell toward the preparing food, and it brought a smirk to his face. He almost lost thought as he stared deeply into the crackling fire. It was a soothing method of keeping his mind empty. "Kisarin, I remember you. Heh, from when I was...much younger." Dalious took another swig from his drink and hiccuped. "I was a part of a bad group back then, your men wiped us out. I hid and watched, and I thank you for it. I can now finally see, they were evil men. I almost was. Now we fight together. Funny how things turn out. Anyway, I'll take mine rare, if you don't mind."

With more than just a little amount of interest, the Chieftain listened to what the pirate had to say. The more he spoke, the more a vague sense of recollection began to dawn upon Kisarin's face, memories of long ago coming back somewhat, but not completely; Kisarin was content with them not coming back all the way, and said as much with the following:

"I see, my friend. Well, the past is the past, after all. You survived, and you learned from it. There's no shame in that. Let bygones be bygones, so that we can focus on what's happening now..." Briefly, Kisarin went quiet, a black mood coming over his face, before he shook his head. "Rare it is then, my friend. Now that is a real kind of meat."

With that, he tossed one of the rabbits over.

"Cheers, mate."

Kyora

They left early in the morning, and didn't stop again until they saw the massive, sparkling jewel that was Kyora came into sight. Even Cyril, who had never seen the city-state before, was taken back by the sight, and simply amazed... but the reality of the situation soon set in, and he was the one who pushed them back forward, towards the gates.

At first, they were treated like any other of those clamoring to get into the city... But then Cyril's crown was noticed, as were the Barcean sigils, and in some cases their weapons. The crowd parted for them quite quickly, so that only the guards stood between them and the city streets. Judging from their stances, they seemed to be prepared to stop them, and Cyril tensed, getting ready himself for what might be coming...

But then, quite suddenly, the guard line seemed to melt away, a captain waving them off suddenly. At first, Cyril couldn't tell why, but as the captain stepped out of the way as well he saw Joachim standing there, waiting, and slipping a small money purse back out of sight into his robes. Cyril held back the sigh of relief that wanted to escape, pleased that the Wanderer had been waiting for them; he had no idea how he was going to find Joachim easily in such a large, unfamiliar city.

The group moved forwards, and the Wanderer fell into step beside the King. He also immediately began to speak:

"He is pleased to see all of you made it. He expected some to remain behind, but he is surprised at those who did..."

Cyril glanced back, blinked, and then looked back to Joachim. "Wait, everyone should already be here. A group left with Christopher before we did. They didn't arrive?"

Joachim frowned, and shook his head slightly. "No... perhaps they ran into trouble along the way. There is nothing we can do now, only have faith that they will make it on time..."

The King was silent for a moment, and then said, "There was another problem as well, that we ran into. I'll tell you when we reach.... Where are we heading, exactly?"

Joachim gave a slightly rueful smile. A few minutes later, and they were at the Hermit's Abode, and the King felt some of the first doubt about Joachim he had in this whole affair:

There was no way they were all going to fit inside.

And yet, somehow they did, settling down either in rooms or at tables. Cyril and Joachim found one booth for themselves, and in a matter of moments the King had told the Wanderer what had happened on their travels. Joachim paled, and slowly brought both hands to his head, hunching over slightly.

"He was afraid something like this would be the case. It was Yaguar who slayed the God King Mazami, and when it happened there was... a transference, of some sort. It was only a matter of time before those abilities manifested themselves..." He shook his head slowly. "It is good to know, beforehand. We'll be able to prepare for it."

Slowly, the Wanderer exhaled, and looked up to Cyril after he lowered his hands. "There is something about this place. It is where his Master-"

Up above, a door slammed.

Joachim swallowed. "His Master, who is the Master, currently resides. And he is being difficult for him, as in this one."

The shock of the presence of a Divine wore off more quickly than Cyril would have expected; then again, they had already met one before. "What do you mean-?"

"You didn't tell me the King would be bringing his entire kingdom along with him." The voice boomed across the room, which fell silent. Slowly, the Master walked his way across the room, and stopped next to the King and Wanderer. The King quickly bowed his head, but the Master merely snorted, saying, "Whatever, let's get this over with. If I get what I expect, then I get to kick you out that much sooner. You, King. You realize that your current problem is more than just a little the fault of the idiot who is sitting in front of you, don't you? Then why do you come to help him?"

Cyril blinked rapidly, surprised, and slowly looked up to the Master. For a moment he was quiet, and then, "I do not blame Joachim for the failings of his previous companions. I consider him one of us now, though, and that means we will help him in his time of need, no matter what the reason. Even if Yaguar wasn't threatening the East as we knew it, I would still stand with him now. He wants to resolve this quickly, and with the least amount of bloodshed. I admire that in him."

"The least amount of bloodshed-?!" Suddenly, the Master's hand shot down, and Joachim squawked as he was lifted. There was a brief struggle, before the Wanderer was thrown back down into the seat harshly, and the package that was now in the Master's hands was ripped open by the Divine.

From it fell a surprising amount of weapons, which had been packed tightly together. Two sickles connected by chains were the first to clatter onto the wood, and they were followed by several wicked looking throwing knives. Next came a double bladed dagger, followed by yet another with a prong. A folded spear clattered down, and then finally a chain with both weight and hooked blade fell.

"Those are not normal weapons, King. They are made for maiming and crippling and killing. For shedding blood."

Slowly, the King looked up, but not at the Master; instead, he looked to Joachim, who seemed embarrassed, ashamed, and yet still resolved, meeting the King's gaze with only a little hesitance. For a moment, Cyril was quiet, and then he said, "I think Joachim gathered those with the best intentions. He thought he would be fighting by himself, and was preparing for the worst sort of fight. We're here now, though. He doesn't need those."

Silence reigned for just a few moments... And then the Master scoffed, turning and dropping the torn package carelessly. "Fools, the lot of you. Fine then!" Joachim went rigid at the last two words, which had been barked out like orders. The Master looked over his shoulder. "Tomorrow, I whip you back into shape, boy. Be ready, and hopefully you'll be fast enough to make it back in time to help your friends, before Yaguar gets bored. Be up before dawn."

Without saying anything else, the Master left. For a moment more silence returned, and then Joachim slowly exhaled, bowing his head. "He thanks you, King Serio... And he apologizes."

Cyril shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Joachim. You did what you thought you had to do. Now, you can adjust."

Middle-Earth: The Fifth Age

Yea that would be pointless to rp a bird. A squirrel on the other hand has my vote.