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Devestation of the Damned {GRP}; {P, Emery}
Topic Started: Sun Dec 4, 2011 9:16 am (988 Views)
Emery
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"Emery... It's a boy's name."

Emery shrugged at this. She knew her gender shifting abilities were thanks to a tattoo, but she had been gifted with it at such a young age that she couldn't imagine not being able to become male and female. Both genders were equally comfortable to her, and it made no difference what she had been born as. Her ears perked, however, as she realized that there was a sound outside besides the rain and the dead. It sounded like someone chanting.

The wall beside her exploded inward, most of the resulting shrapnel bouncing off the paladin.


"No!" a crazed voice from outside shouted. "You're still alive! Stay still while I take another shot!" Emery wondered if their attacker thought they would actually pay attention to this. Before she could run on her own, the paladin lifted her off her feet and tucked her slim body underneath one arm.

Her moral compass was one with several arrows, each pointing a different direction. The two most prominent pointers where given to her by her mother and Father Jethro, and the often clashing philosophies were enough to give Emery headaches. On one hand, his mother's advice suggested he should leave the man carrying her behind at the earliest convenience. He couldn't escape, but she could leap down and burrow under the earth and beyond the undead's front, escaping the necromancer and leaving the paladin to his fate. Another part of her, one grown by the former abbot of the monastery, made her feel almost responsible for the paladin's wellbeing, enough that she was uncomfortable with simply abandoning him. As she usually did when faced with these dilemmas, she sought out logic to balance out her illogical feelings. If she could support them, she went the route of Father Jethro. If she could find no logical reason to do so, she followed the advice of her mother.

She brainstormed quickly, finding several reasons to stay with the paladin. First, her attempts at burrowing had proven ineffective already in a town half buried in mud. Second, she didn't know what other dangers there were beyond this, so it was best to wait and leave him when the danger was past, not at the first sign of it, as he was far more effective at defense and offense than she was. Finally, the paladin had proven himself strong, skilled, and intelligent when it came to fighting. There was no reason to assume that, even if this was a trap, there wasn't a way from him to escape it just yet. She had three logical reasons to stay with her rescuer now, so it was best to inform him of their situation.

"The man commands a great deal of undead," she began, still watching through her Ariel eyes as she spoke. "He arranged them before he attacked us. Also..." she hesitated a moment, but managed to continue, "There are some undead he commands who have armor similar to yours, though the symbol on them is different. They seem to be more in control that the rest, and have weapons. I...I'm not sure how to help beyond that."
Edited by Emery, Wed Dec 14, 2011 6:34 am.
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Val
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Escape was an option lost to Krieger and his companion. Sure, he might be able to toss her down to a lower level so she might try and escape, but there were too many undead about, not to mention the age of this building... From the two blasts that the necromancer seemed to so effortlessley cast, there was no telling just what kind of damage to the construct's structural integrity there might be. The paladin would lower his young companion back to the ground, gently, before looking back to where there was once a wall with a picture hanging upon it. The situation was already bad, and simply proved to be growing worse. And as he heard the words of the Young Gemini pass into his ears, it was clear that without some sort of divine miracle, there was little to no chance of escaping unscathed. This was something which proved problematic.

"Death Knights..." He would mutter, spite lining his voice as the words growled out in his odd voice. Death Knights were one of two things, paladins fallen to the curse of undeath, forced against their will to fight for some creature that could control the dead... or worse. From what Emery had said, it seemed that these Death Knights were the worst kind, those who held control over themselves... Which meant those wh willingly gave themselves to death, whose very souls had been corrupted and who most often had the ability, themselves, to control the horrors of rotting flesh known as the undead.

Indeed, these Death Knights were sentient and wicked things, working alongside the necromancer for promise of their own bits of land across Imythess. The cloaked man would look to his companions, his smile dropping for a moment before he would shout at them, "What the hell are you waiting for!? An invitation!? Go and kill the paladin!" The fallen paladins would look to their self-appointed leader with distaste, one calling out at him, "Watch your tongue, boy! We were skilled enough to kill a wretch like you when we were alive, we're more than capable in death!" The knight in his heavy armor would begin marching his way to the necromancer, fully prepared to make his point, yet without even much thought into the matter the sorcerer would soon have him on his knees, doing nothing more than raising his hand and clenching it into a fist. A second death knight would go to the aid of the first, drawing his blade and charging the necromancer from behind, but would also fall quickly, the necromancer having just turned his hand slightly.

"New era, boys! New power and most o all, a new chain of command! Now get up there and kill me a paladin! I need somebody to sit on and I don't think any of you are opting for the job!" With the order shouted, the necromancer would allow them to be free, and begrudgingly they would march their way into the building.

"I don't suppose you have any other abilities that may be useful at this time, would you, Emery?" Krieger would ask, knowing only one way out of this mess... And even then the chances seemed like they may be slim against several of his accursed bretheren.
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Emery
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Emery studied the layout of the field once more. The bickering Death Knights and their necromancer, their boots being muddied in the earth between the ruins, the multitude of zombies surrounding them, directed by a central force. She had an idea of how to free herself, yes, but the issue was her protector. How would she liberate him? She found a somewhat weak point in the perimiter: only three zombies. However, she wasn't certain if he could move fast enough dragging her along. He certainly couldn't fight as well.

"I...There might be a way..." she said as quick as she dared. "There's only three guarding an alley behind us and a bit to the left. You can make it out that way." She fiddled her fingers as she worked out her own part. "We need to separate though. I can make a distraction while you escape. You need to run, and we'll meet up later. Trust me."

She couldn't say anymore, the necromancer and Death Knight next to him were wrapping up their chatter. Soon there would be another crash of magical force that could tumble the whole building. Before this could happen, she ran to the broken wall and leapt, twisting her body so it would land face up on the ground below.

She was dead before she landed, her eyes vacant and staring upward, limbs limp as the rain plastered her long hair to her cooling skin. The necromancer laughed.

"What's this? Tossing out your allies hoping to slow me down? Maybe you aren't the staunch defender of goodness I thought you were!" Cold fingers gripped her thin arms and dragged her body away. "Or maybe you thought you could please me with a gift? I am, pleased, Paladin, but now it just means you'll have a friend in undeath!"

There was another blast of magic lightning. Hands that seemed even colder than the dead rested on her chest.

"What a pretty little drowling," the necromancer said. "Your plaything, perhaps, paladin? Well, now she's mine." Surges of necrotic magic filled Emery's corpse, electrifying every limb, but failing to raise her from the dead. "What? Why is this -"

It was all Emery allowed him to get out before she canceled the effects of her Mourning Breath tattoo. She grabbed the front of the necromancer's robes and brought his head down as her own rose, cracking his skull against the augmented might of her own head. The Death Knight's sword rose and fell, striking Emery's raised arm, now covered with sharp black armor like the rest of her body. With a touch of her finger, she poked at the Knight, sending him flying backwards.

"I'm not Drow," she said, annoyed as ever people made that assumption. Her Backlash tattoo squirmed in her skin, holding energy from the first lightning spell the necromancer cast. She didn't know much magic, however. It was never a major part of her education either under her mother or with the monks. So what was released all around her wasn't lighting; it was wild magic, chaotic and beautiful, striking at its caster as well as the zombies and necromancer.

She burrowed underground, using her Arial Anchor to judge where she was. Now, she thought as she dug through the softened earth, dodging underground debris, she had to hope the paladin actually listened to her and escaped. She suddenly realized it was possible he chose to leap out after her and...No, she'd just have to trust he did make it out.
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Val
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While the Necromancer might have been caught off-guard by the false-hood of the girl-thing's demise, he was by no means injured by it, even as she had brought his face to slam into her enchanted head, for the necro's own power was too much to allow such an injury, or most injures for that matter, occur. He was a powerful thing, with only one weakness that had ever been noted by a pair of sell-swords, and damn them both to hell for figuring it out, though luckily it seemed to be their little secret. so far. Though this headbutt did jar to the front of the spellcaster's memory... He would have to go back and kill those two, preferrably with one of these Death Knights in front of him. Ah, hell, why not all of them? Though then there was another question, take them with or without will?

Krieger would panic at the sight of his companion leaping from the building, watching her flop to the ground below. He was afraid for a moment, clenching the handle to his maul tight with both hands, yet he stopped himself from leaping off as he saw Emery launch herself into action, taking the group by surprise. So it seemed she had more than she cared to discuss, and to sacrifice herself for the Paladin... Perhaps there was a chance for her to find the path of goodliness yet. Krieger would make sure that his companion was gone, burrowed into the ground, perhaps how she had gottten into the room from earlier, before he would begin to leave, hopping down the destroyed stiars and to the elvel below, then quickly sprinting down the next flight and heading in the direction which the gemini had suggested.

His mind raced for a moment, wondering if Emery would be okay and if he could navigate beneath the stone structures. He prayed for Emery's sake that she could, and that they might meet up, for there would be not enough air for her to breathe in below the ground, and to pop up in this city of dead would be a death sentance, though at the same time Bach pondered on if he would even be able to find her through the thick sheets of rain and the constant low rolling of thunder.

As he would begin to make his escape through what had seemed at first to be an unguarded exit, the paladin would quickly find himself blindsided by a heavy force, he could feel electricity rolling itself through his body. He watched as Lucius Arbiter flew from his fingertips and beside him through the air, black lightning arcing from his body as he seemed to fly several yards from whatever thing it was that hit him.

"I thought to myself... What paladin would be so stupid as to come into the middle of this city without help..." A voice familiar to Keieger would sound out as he came to a stop in his roll on the wet ground, groaning slightly in pain, "Then it struck me! Kind of like how I struck you just now! Third Templar of the Tenth Paladin Order of Chaon, Third Son of the Half-Tarhis Hebben Zezwak, Krieger Bach!" The paladin would lift his head to see a fat figure before him, covered in a bastardization of paladin armor, black in color with trim of silver.

"Burhardt... Madman." Krieger would mutter, forcing himself to a knee and taking a deep breath, hearing a booming laughter from the fat man. He had become an abomination twice over, a Death Knight and an Astroth.

"You figured it out! Good! I almost worried you forgot about me, brother."
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Emery emerged from the dank earth, he Arial Anchor marking this as a safe place to surface, relatively speaking. It was at least out of sight of any undead. She crawled out, breathing the fresh air and cursing inwardly. Digging through dry dirt was bad enough, but now? Now she was caked with mud, her robe and clothing heavy with it, her long hair a solid mess of it. She was wet and muddy and cold and trapped and tired and hungry and lost among the dead. Emery found herself curling up against a wall, feeling the rain pound on her and cause the mud to run down in clumps. She shivered, wondering if she could stay here forever.

That is, until old lessons came to the fore. Don't be sad, her mother said as she stroked her hair. She had no reason to be sad. Sadness helped for a time, but after that, it only wasted your energy, preventing you from acting. It made you sit leaning against a wall as the undead drew ever closer. Besides, why get sad, whispered the ghost of his mother's voice, when she could get even?

Emery stood, her small frame trembling under the mud. With the care of a craftsman laying out his tools, she unlocked all the pain and fear she'd suffered and stored away throughout her life, honing them so they pointed outward. The death of her mother, the prison of the monastery, the monks that still hunted her for fleeing their grasp, the terror instilled in her these past few days, the goddamn necromancer that made her dig through the mud and ruin her clothes and her hair...

Studded metallic chitin coated her skin, washing clean of mud far more quickly than her dark skin did. They would pay. All of them. She would find that necromancer, chop off his legs, his arms, his tongue. Cut off his bits, force him to choke on them as she pulled every foot of intestine from his belly. And that Death Knight, she'd make him wish he stayed dead, slice him as fine as sheets of paper from the feet up...

She reined in her rage, forced it to work for her, let its fire fuel her, but not rule her. She needed to escape. She'd lost track of the paladin, which was for the best. He could go about his business, and she would make it out on her own. Her ears twitched as she heard the sounds of footsteps. She blinked and looked down from above. Two undead had approached. They didn't seem to hear her, and stood just on the other side of the wall, the heavy stone wall.

She turned and faced the light stone. She reached out two fingers, and tapped the wall. The tap translated into a concussive forced that rattled the ruins as it sent the collapsing wall atop the two unlucky undead. They still flailed under the rubble, but Emery gave them not a glance once she was certain they were trapped. She bent down and picked up the spear one had been carrying. It wasn't a quarterstaff like she was used to, but it was of far better make than her old branch, and it could stab things. She wanted to stab as many things as she could.

Looking down on herself, she began to walk, almost wishing more undead would arrive so she could cut them down, but knowing she shouldn't strike out unless she needed to. Escape was her priority. Perhaps she'd run into the paladin, perhaps not. She didn't care at this point. She was running on a lifetime of anger. Passing companionship was not part of her thoughts.
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"Well... What are you waiting for?" Burhardt would ask, a low chuckle coming from the very pit of his large stomach, his voice holding to it that same instant echo as Krieger's, but it was clearly more crazes and lower, "Get up! Lift the Lucius Arbiter to strike me down! The holy maul chose you after all, didn't it?" He would laugh again, lifting a double-bearded axe as large as the Lucius Arbiter upon his dark-steeled shoulder. Burhardt's helmet obscured his face, and Krieger wished that it would obscur his voice as well, yet it did not... And he could only wonder what sort of axe his brother held... Then it struck him, not literally... not yet, but a memory.

"That's Infusco Quisling... Isn't it?" Krieger asked, standing tall as he wiped some of the rainwater from his glass eyes, pulling his Silver Hounds hood back over his head, giving a glance to the Lucius for a moment and the back to the Infusco, his elder brother laughing.

"Good! Good! You remember what we were taught! Now all we need is the Casimiar Deponent and we'll have a family reuinion, won't we!?" He laughed, a mention to the eldest son of Hebben Zezwak, and it would be during this time that Krieger would make his rush for the Lucius Arbiter, of the three weapons the goodly one. Quickly did he get the Arbiter into his hands before rising its handle up to block the oncoming axe-head of the Infusco, the evil weapon of the three. Why it had been that three weapons depicting good evil and neutrality would be cast to the sons of Zezwak was a mystery to Krieger, yet one he could not answer at the given time. He met his brother's blow well, but even as the enchanted steel of the axe-head and the maul-handle meet that electricity, black as night, jumped from his older brother's axe and through the paladin's body, forcing him back to the ground upon his hands and knees, though Burhardt would not finish it just yet.

"Your weapon's as corrupt as your soul, madman!" Krieger shouted above the rain, his wicked and undead brother laughing at the top of his lungs.

"You mistake it, brother! My soul is far more corrupt than even the Infusco Quisling!" As he laughed, thunder would roll in unison, revealing clear to Krieger that his brother was the source of this mighty storm, using his powers as a once-Tarhis, now an Astroth to create a storm most fierce to mark his presence.

"You see, as you had retired with your family, I sought out my power! And when I was killed, it became clear to me as I met with a demon most foul! It was the demon of my soul, an Astroth! And as that became clear, so did the true potential of the Quisling!" He laughed, taunting his wounded brother for not unlocking his full potential.

And where was their brother during this? With the Casimiar Deponent? The Greatsword which could save Krieger from this? Nowhere even near the ruined city... Perhaps at home.
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She snuck through the ruins, ducking out of sight whenever undead came into view. The storm provided wonderful cover, the sheets of rain veiling her somewhat and masking her footsteps. It was also, however, playing havoc with her Arial Anchor. If she wasn't looking straight down, she was blinded by the rain. She gave up on it after a time. She might as well use her own eyes.

She missed it terribly, though. She had to pull back and hide behind a piece of broken masonry at the sight of two more undead. She paused and looked again. They looked to be fighting each other, and a second inspection proved that true. As she watched, she realized it was the paladin. He was fighting one of the Death Knights and it looked as though he was losing.

She should leave him. She could make it on her own. She didn't need him. He'd done his part, and now he could go about his little paladin way and kill undead at his leisure. Still...

Still, his mother's advice whispered, he could still be useful. She wasn't safe yet, and helping him here would endear him to her even more. Perhaps she could even enlist him in helping her escape even father than she could alone. Also, oddly, she felt a sense of...obligation to help. It might have been the old abbot's teachings leaking through, but still...

She snuck around the masonry, keeping low as she circled around, hidden by the crashing rain and thunder. She might have only a single chance, she thought as she searched for an opening in the Death Knight's armor.

The Death Knight seemed to be speaking with the paladin, though the words were drowned in the downpour. She waited until the Knight seemed somewhat distracted and rushed across the distance, feet slipping about in the mud. She still had enough speed, however, to jab the spear into the Death Knight's back as hard as she could. All she succeeded in doing was breaking the spearpoint off on the Knight's armor. A backhanded swing from him sent her flying and rolling in the mud. Her armor absorbed most of the blow, but not enough to prevent what felt like cracked ribs. She laid still, fighting to breath through the pain, fuming that she was muddy again after finally getting washed clean. Perhaps, though, she gave the paladin some sort of opening.
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Krieger had absolutely no hope, no faith that his brother would simply allow him to walk away from all of this... Even before he became an abomination to all that was good, when he was still alive, Burhardt was the shady one. His thoughts were never good things, his plans always at someone else's expense. Because of this, he was given the Infusco Quisling. A double-bearded axe, the invert of the Lucius Arbiter. The Infusco was forged in Hellfire, a corrupt weapon to the very core. Back then, however, it seemed to be nothing more than a black-steeled weapon, fully capable of hacking but not much else... Clearly it truly was the brother weapon of the Lucius Arbiter, its powers only working for one person and only working when they proved themselves worthy to wield it.

Krieger looked up to his brother from the wet ground, slowly forcing himself back to his feet... True potential... Krieger wondered what their brother's power must have been like, what creature he was associated with or if he even had a power hidden within his soul... With two brother being good and evil, celestial and abyssal, could the eldest be nothing more than a mere man? Did he have any power at all or could his power make them both drop to their knees? Krieger wondered, resting in a kneel for a moment, trying to regain his strength from the electrical shock.

Burhardt lifted the Infusco Quisling high into the air, ready to bring it down and end his brother, yet he found himself quickly interrupted, a force ramming into his back with annoying force. For a split moment he just stood there, wondering what it was that actually tried to attack him, and quickly pivoted around to backhand whatever was there.

Krieger did not stop to worry about what was going on, who the distraction had been or if his brother's armor might be enhanted, as the Death Knight turned, the Paladin sprung into action, taking up the mighty maul, the Lucius Arbiter into both of his hands, swinging in a full circle, dropping the hammer low to the ground as he turned away from his brother before lifting it high into the air, using its force and the strength in his own legs to leap into the air, Maul high overhead before bringing it down upon the back of his brother. By coincidence or fate, as the hammer lashed out against the armor, a bolt of yellow lightning would shoot down from the dark clouds overhead, slamming into the Arbiter as it connected to the armor of Burhardt, knocking dust, dirt and debris into the air with ease.

Before the mess even settled, Krieger would emerge from the cloud of debris to see what it was who had been the saving of his life and would offer a hand in aid to Emery, "Best we leave before the necromancer realizes where we are."

Unbeknownst to Krieger, however, the necromancer was watching from the shadows, smiling to himself, "That... was interesting..." Would be the words he muttered before commanding the death knights to move out and begin wrangling up the undead once more, not wanting to waste any more time with the Paladin and his little pet. He had big plans, and the Paladin wasn't going to be a threat to his operations any longer on this day, he could see that.
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Damn undead. Damn paladin. Damn conscience! What had it gotten her!? Her rage flared up again, goaded by the pain in her torso, lashing about for a target. It settled on her own sense of...whatever it was that made her attack an armored foe with just a spear. Each breath was torturous now, and she was muddy and in pain all because of her damned conscience. Perhaps she could have escaped on her own before, but if the paladin didn't finish off the Death Knight and aid her, there was no way she'd get away from this damned place. She struggled to her elbows, letting her chitin armor melt back in her skin. It was, most likely, the only reason she was still able to breath, but she hated how it looked, and if the paladin failed to take out the Knight, she was going to leave a nice corpse, thank you very much.

A hand intruded her field of vision. She shrunk back until she realized it was unarmed and attached to the paladin in question. "Best we leave before the necromancer realizes where we are," he said.

She took his hand, wincing as she steadied herself with her freshly crafted staff. "Hurt...my ribs..." She said, trying to take shallow breaths. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the Death Knight began to twitch. "He's not dead...redead...however it...goes. I want out of here now."

She got to her feet. "I want...a bath...and new clothes...and no more damned undead...and new ribs...and...your damned name." She couldn't keep calling him paladin, not now. She had no choice but to join him at the paladin outpost now. Her ability to run was gone now, and paladins would have healers. She only prayed they hadn't heard of her, or that her personal paladin would help her, even inadvertently. She realized her last request was asked with a bit more venom than would be found polite. "...Please?" she added.
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Noting her injuries, the Paladin would be quick to help her off of her feet, maneuvering to get elf onto his back for easier maneuverability with the maul in his left hand. He had no idea what the lightning was or where it had come from... Let alone how he could endure its power so readily, yet now was not the time to care or overthink such trivialities. What he wanted to focus on was escape, making sure that this young one would have its life before her. Once he made sure that Emery was secure on his shoulder, Krieger would begin to move, first tumbling a bit, almost seeming as if he would fall over, but quickly readjusted himself before moving at the pace of a jog, with the pain througout his body it was all that he could manage to muster, much fast and he might pass out from fatigue, and in this place it would do only the hungering dead good.

"My name is Krieger Bach... That Death Knight was my brother."

The Death Knights worked their power in unison, controlling what undead they could, forcing the shambling horrors to one spot where they could keep an eye on their rotting pets. The necromancer, however, was of course no where to be found during this, wandering off on his own, not needing the hordes of undead to fight his battles... He could make those whenever he needed to. He wandered through the ruins of the city, wondering what it must have looked like in life... Probably looked annoying, he though.

Krieger would not stop running, barreling past and undead he saw and towards the direction that Emery had earlier mention. He regulated his breathing so he wouldn't get exhausted too quickly, he watched his footing in the rain so that he wouldn't slip. Eventually he would be able to see the warm orange glow of the large bonfire of the Paladin camp, the last bit of hope they might have in case the necromancer and his forces decided to hunt down the stray Bach.

However, the necromancer found himself wandering back to where the fallen Bach was, the Death Knight forcing his fat form to his feet, stumbling over his own weight to get back to normal condition, one hand planted firmly on his helmeted head.

"Lightning..." He would groan for a moment, lloking for his axe on the ground... He hadn't expected to get hit by lightning in the back of the head... He found that it quite hurt.

"Yeah, it looked like it hurt... That's part of what made it so damn funny." The necromancer would say with a chuckle before turning on his heel and beginning to walk away... There were lots of nuisences in Chaon, between sell-swords and paladins, there were many things that could keep things fun and interesting.

As Burhardt would find his weapon, his accursed axe, he would look its form over for a moment, wringing his fingers around its dark handle before bursting out into mad laughter, "Right you are! How fun! I can't wait to see what it's like when he accesses his powers!"
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Emery remained still as she rode on the paladin's shoulder, each step taken jostling her injuries. They were headed toward the lighter grey on the horizon, the telltale lighting of campfires. Soon they'd be surrounded by a entire outpost of paladins, and she was still undertain how safe that would prove for her. It seemed her actions, no matter how painful, had earned her a touch of trust from the paladin Krieger Bach, enough at least that he admitted to her that his own brother was a powerful undead Death Knight. The rain began to lessen, washing them both clean rather than pounding on them like falling pebbles. She made her decision. He'd confided something in her. Perhaps explaining her situation to him would aid her in staying free.

"Before we get to the outpost," she said, gritting her teeth at the deeper breath she took, "I need to tell you why I...I fear going there. I escaped from a monastery, one I was raised at from a young age when my..." she couldn't finish the sentence, not aloud. The pain was still there, and she didn't need tears clouding her tale. "It was fine there, until a new abbot took over, and I was treated not as an initiate but a prisoner. I escaped, and they've been hunting me. I don't know why, but they seem satisfied with...they've used deadly force against me." She paused, wincing as she drew more breath.

"That's why I'm afraid. Other paladins I've come across recognized me. I'm easy to describe, I suppose. Not all, but some. I've done nothing wrong. Any sins I've done are the sins of a child, and I did my best to obey the rules of the monastery when I lived there. I don't know why I am hunted, but I have done nothing I can think of to earn my death. That's why I was in the ruins. I was hiding.

"I need healing," she continued, "But I refuse to return to the monks, and I will fight back if I can't flee. So...please, if you can, Krieger Bach, I only ask you hide who I am, and let me leave in peace. Nothing more."

She fell silent. Perhaps she had just doomed herself by speaking the truth to Krieger. Still, he was the closest she had to an ally, and that was something she desperately needed.
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Through the pain, through the rain, through the low thunder, through the beating os his heart and through the heavy falling of his booted feet upon the ground, shaking him to the very core each step ringing in his own ears... Krieger listened closely to the words of the gemini on his back, though he did not slow for even a moment. To hear her words... Perhaps it was simply this young one's age that Krieger sympathized, not because she had aided him and not because he saved her... but because of his own missing child he had a weak spot for such a thing, a tale. He had no idea what it was but he believed the young being on his back. He saw that in her situation there was no reason to lie but he did not respond to her words as he ran, focusing on the task at hand. He did note that the rain was waning, though... Burhardt's power was loosening.

"C'mon, Burhardt! We've gotta get going..." The necromancer would chime out with a smile as he walked away from the Death Knight, actually trying to order the mortal Astroth. All he got instead of cooperation was a laugh from the corrupted soul as he rested the double-bearded axe upon his shoulder, his eyes unseen behind his helmet. The necromancer stopped, looking back and not losing his smile, "Something funny, Bur?" He would ask rhetorically, pivoting around on his heels, stretching his arms out to either side. His peace in this matter didn't last long though as a rock slammed into his stomach, the size of Burhardt's large fist which sent the Necromancer folding over in pain and falling to his knees as he began to cough. "Son of a..."

"Don't mistake me, Necromancer... I know your weakness and I'm not your pet! I think you're fun to hang out with, but I'm half ready to cut that ego of yours down to size." He would bellow, marching his way through the mud to the fallen sorcerer, using his free hand to lift him easily into the air, "I don't answer to anything... Especially not you."

"I didn't tell you to--"
"Shuddup and stop being rude, I'm talking. Now where was I?" Burhardt would ask himself, tossing the Necro back to the ground like a ragdoll, "Right... I'm going somewhere, bye!" And like that the Death Knight would start walking away from the nNEcromancer who simply started to laugh. He always came close to being a lich but nobody ever went that extra mile... Too bad.

After a while of running Krieger would finally arrive at the Paladin camp, the veteran soldiers of good caught in conversation with each other, worries audible about the retreating undead and the waning rain. Bach would fall to a knee before the bonfire, the head of the Lucius Arbiter in the ground as he lowered his head in prayer, breathing heavily to keep from hyperventilating. His muscles screamed and burned from the run after having been electrocuted.

Within a moment several paladins would approach the templar, two of them having their hands upon the handles of their weapons, ready to strike out... Krieger would turn his head to see them clearly, freeing his hands from his maul for just a moment so that he could help the gemini from his back before standing tall, face-to-face with the paladins.

"Krieger, you've done well but... regarding this..." The paladin speaking would motion to the darkly elf, "Thing... We have orders to--"
"Stow your orders." Would come a sharp reply from Krieger as he reached for the Arbiter, dragging it in front of him, standing with stoic power, his legs parted just slightly and his hands overlapped upon the end of his weapon's handle, only his glass lens eyes could be clearly seen between his hood and his collar.

"I know full well about this young one, Emery. And I have decided upon a ruling..." Krieger would pause, eyeing the paladins with their hands readied to draw their weapons, making sure they came to attention before continuing, "By the Guidelines of Good set by Acuro Zeidenzar, Head Founder of the Tenth Holy Order of Paladins of Chaon, two-hundred and twenty-seven years ago, of which I, Krieger Bach, the Third Son of the Half-Tarhis and Half-Human Hebben Zezwak, reside as the Third Templar and Acting Judge in this encampment, the "Golden Gate," of which contains mostly members of the First and Last Holy Paladin Order of Taras, I decree that the former Monsatary Initiate by the name of Emery has proven capable and fit of surviving the harsh lands of Chaon on his and her own. By this decree I order that word be passed through all of the Holy Paladin Orders of Chaon older than the Tenth be submitted the following: that the Mark that has been placed upon Emery be lifted as per my ruling. No longer shall this individual be permitted to be hunted based upon actions before this decree." Krieger was experienced at giving rulings... When he had retired from this work he retired into being a Judge of the Tenth Paladin Order. Once this had been his job, and due to his ranking in this camp it was his job once more and he found his ruling correct. To his words, the Paladins would lower their stance and return to standing casual, saluting Krieger Bach.

"Then shall we heal yours and her wounds, Templar Bach?"
"Treat hers first..." This being said, Krieger would turn to Emery, nodding his head, "And please try not to run... If you wish to leave this camp after you are healed I would suggest waiting for the next supply wagon to leave on."
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Emery
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Things at the paladin encampment went differently than Emery expected. At best, she assumed she'd be taken to the paladin's leader, Krieger Bach speaking as her champion. At worst, she planned a long night fleeing and digging every step pained by her cracked ribcage. What she hadn't grasped, it appeared, was that the man who set out alone to the heart of the ruins, the man who fought the undead hordes without aid, the man who rescued her and bore here to safety...that man was the leader of this outpost, or was so high in rank that it made no difference.

She was treated by a female healer, her entire body beginning to relax and unwind in the soothing glow of her healing magic and a light bath. She was given new clothes, far too big for her small frame, but comfortable and clean. Either because of a sedative in the drink the healer gave her, or the release of stress that being warm and safe and snug on a blanketed cot, Emery slept, perhaps her first deep sleep since the undead rose. The light of a weak sun through a crack in the healing tent stirred her awake. She brushed her long hair with a spare comb, braided it, wished she could inspect herself in a mirror, and rose to wander through the camp.

The paladin's that were up, a surprising number, largely ignored her as long as she stepped out of their way. Some looked at her in puzzlement, others with disdain, but none were confining or harming her, so she ignored them. With her new clothes, for a given value of new, it would be a simple matter to find some new shoes, a cloak, and slip away from the camp before someone took capturing her into their own hands. She could even sneak some supplies and gold and leave the ruins better than when she entered them except...except...

She felt a sense of, what to call it, obligation to the paladin who saved her. She didn't know what she could do for him to relieve the sense that she owed him, but perhaps he'd be satisfied with her thanks. He was a paladin, after all, and kept telling her that saving her was simply a duty for him. She found a paladin who didn't look too busy and didn't seem upset at the sight of her presence.

"Excuse me," She said, wearing an expression of sweet innocence. "Could you tell me where I would find Krieger Bach at this hour? I need to thank him again for rescuing me from the undead."
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Val
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Krieger was quickly healed by a brother paladin after Emery was gone but his duties at the camp had only begun. He could afford no time to rest, not with the knowledge he had gained when out hunting for the source of this madness. A necromancer more powerful than most and his own brother fallen to corruption. Information such as this could not be permitted to go any longer than was needed without being relayed to his superiors.

It only took a moment for Krieger to be led to the main tent where he would wait alongside the Marquis of the paladin order. For two hours they would wait in that tent standing tall and motionless like statues, awaiting for the crystals in the box before them to become active. The crystals would come to life, three of them hovering from the small wooden box and to separate points before the two.

Formed from the magical light of the crystals were three ethereal versions of their superiors. The current Duke of the Tenth Paladin Order of Chaon, who stood tall in his heavy golden armor. The plates of the holy armor were engraved with various arcane runes and upon his left shoulder sat the preserved head of a mighty devil he had slain. The second crystal formed the appearance of the Duke of the Eight Order, a hooded figure with a long sword at his side. His robes were a dark golden color and beneath them one could see the tell-tale signs of armor hidden away. And the final figure which formed in between the dukes was a figure they all knew quite well. Krieger was surprised to see such a figure at a report like this. Was there something that he did not know?

The final figure to form was none other than the Lord of the First Holy Paladin Order of Chaon. An Archangel who showed no age, and a name that all paladins of the Orders knew. Tirial stood a head taller than the others, no clear weapon or armor in sight. He wore hood-less robes which allowed his long silver hair to fall down upon his back. His skin was as white as snow and his eyes glowed like the Winter sky. Without hesitation Krieger and the Marquis fell to a knee in respect to the Lord, bowing their heads low.

"Raise yourselves, Krieger and Hathan. Speak of what you have learned." Again they would move swiftly and without hesitation, rising to their feet at the command and returning to their powerful statue-like stances.

"Upon searching the well-known ruins of Imythess I discovered two things that have shaken me, Lord." Krieger started out, "The first of which is the existence of a necromancer that seems to have power greater than the norm. The second thing is about my older brother, Burhardt Bach. He has fallen and his soul corrupted. He has now become a Death Knight of considerable power, his soul twisting into that of an Astroth and possessing the power to create a low-level hurricane."

"Many paladins fall, Krieger." Came the words of the Eight Duke, cold and sharp like the blade at his side, "And there are many necromancers that wander this world... I'm more interested in this elf you found."

Almost as if on cue another of the crystals would come to life at the words, rising from the small wooden box and in front of the Lord. The figure formed would no doubt be that of the monastery leader which had run Emery off...

Outside, with Emery, the Paladin she had addressed would look down upon the young one.

"Templar Bach is currently inside of the Main Tent conducting official business with his superiors. You can wait around for his business to be over and thank him then."
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Emery
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"Oh, alright," Emery said, rethinking as her original plan failed. "Could you tell me where I can get some breakfast, then? While I wait?"

"The mess tent is over there, young elf," the paladin said, pointing.

"And, perhaps, where I could find my cloak? It was muddy and I didn't have it when I awoke."

"It should be in the laundry tent, which is three over from the mess," the paladin said.

"Thank you," Emery said with a quick bow before hurrying off. That was all she needed to know, and she didn't want to get caught up in a discussion with the man. Catching the scent of cooked meat and cabbage, Emery made her way to the mess.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The monk's image bowed, a humble looking one in a hooded brown robe similar to Emery's, if of better repair, distinguished only by an antique gold chain heavy with a bejeweled amulet. "Paladin Krieger Bach," the figure said. "I am the sixty-eigth Abbot of the H'Bokin Temple. I understand if you've never heard of the place. We go out of our way to be unnoticed. It has come to my attention that you have managed to capture a dark haired elf by the name of Emery, and believe it to be a simple case of a child run away from home. It is far more grave than that, Sir Paladin. Believe me when I say if this was a simple case of an initiate wishing to leave, he would be taken back to the nearest town of his choosing with our blessing.

"The creature you found is far too dangerous to be allowed free reign, Sir Paladin. I have dispatched my own agents to collect it, but I am trusting in you to ensure it does not escape before they arrive by any means you deem necessary. Do not let your senses say you to compassion in this matter just because its form is that of a child. Any force needed to keep it from fleeing will be forgiven."
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