[IC] Hunted & Haunted: Stonetown

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....The sun was approaching it's zenith, no more than an hour away, and the shadows thinned and dissipated more and more each minute. A fair wind failed to cool off the travelers skin from the sun's heated rays. The sky was littered with smoky cloud trails that gave the traveler a forlorn feeling that they might come together and begin a downpour. With a mind to get out of there as quickly as possible, the traveler resolved himself and began marching slowly but with long even strides towards his objective: Stonetown.

Saint Yggdrasil squinted lightly as he always does under any sort of natural light. Even at night, the reflection of the moon forced him to squint for comfort and he had always wondered why. Any attempt to keep his eyes wide open resulted in a discomfort and tingle in his eyes. He must have tried it at least once every day he was out on the road and traveling even though he knew it was hopeless. He assumed it was something to keep his mind distracted while his body did the work.

The road melted from dirt to gray cobblestone under his boots and he found himself in front of the archway leading into Stonetown. Until now, nothing seemed out of place but the stillness in the village ahead only reminded him of all the stories and rumors he had gathered over the last few days. Tales seem to lead more towards a curse or a monster attack than any ghosts or kidnappings but what was out of place was the abruptness of the tragedy. When a monster attacks a town, people flee and survive but this time not a single resident has turned up and his ghost wards are not alerting him of any spiritual forces.

"Oh, right." Yggdrasil shook his head. A few simple gestures with his fingers and a breathed word created a small ward embedded itself into him. Most unnatural creatures and monsters should activate it. Or so he hoped. It would not be the first time he wrongly identified the problem and relied on his wards too much. He knew he'd get killed someday but he would rather die in old age than in the middle of his life. Besides, he would not allow himself to die; he still had so much work left to do and no one else was going to do it for him.

With a last look behind him, making sure his horse was safely tethered to the tree, he placed a foot inside the town. Nothing. He had expected a chill or one of his wards to alert him but it seemed empty though he would not shake the unease he felt. Whatever had made an entire village vanish must be pretty bad.

"Maybe none of my wards work against it?" He looked behind once more and checked on his horse. He could still see it clearly meaning he had not fallen into some dimensional trap. Again.

He shrugged his thoughts aside and concentrated on moving deeper into the town. A sign told him he was on 'Mason's Way'.

Not a single trace of struggle was to be seen. Windows were immaculate if a bit dusty, the road was clean of blood and bodies, and even the ground was empty of overturned carts and abandoned items. It's as if the entire village had simply tidied up before leaving without any of their possessions.

To his his left his saw a tavern of some sort, the doors wide open. "The Straw Man?" He thought it was an odd name for a tavern inside a town known for it's stone.

It's only then, at that very moment, that he saw something in the corner of his eyes. Trained reflexes and instincts kicked into overdrive and he curled down ready to jump and place a curse on whatever he saw but his mind quickly unscrambled itself and he found himself staring at a statue.

Yggdrasil straightened himself and looked around himself to make sure nothing new showed up at the wrong moment and then returned his gaze to that of the statue. It was staring at him. The statue was that of a young woman who laid her arms down on the railing of stairs of someones home. It was a fine piece of work and every curve captures and her smile contagious but he realized she was not looking at him but at down the street and out the village. She must have been made to seem as a welcoming and friendly town girl.

"I must be getting old; jumping at statues. What next; my own shadow?" He sighed and looked back into the tavern. It was the only building that broke uniform and proudly displayed varnished wood instead of cold polished stone. It must have been an old building for the architecture was different than the rest of the town and must have been the first tavern around when the town was still known as Milltown. He had always believed food to be the path to a man's heart and his love for food only asserted his masculinity and that made him feel even more male than ever.

However, the road was always harsh, even when it was fair. Hot breakfasts and suppers were rare even for a Saint. God certainly didn't send him anything to feast on during the cold winter nights outside. He laughed softly to himself and made his way over to the bar. Colored glass from green to red, blue to violet filled the counter and he picked himself a bottle marked 'Vodka'. Looking at it momentarily with slight hesitation, he gulped down with haste a long swing that burned his parched throat. With a chuckle, he threw the bottle against the wall and watched the glass and liquor fly across the tavern floor. He had to make sure he wouldn't absentmindedly drink the whole bottle while searching for clues. It would not be the worst he's ever done but he doubted he could save this village while drunk.

"Might as well put a few wards in here in case something is prowling about. abandoned places always draw in creatures." He began marking the entrance door and the floor directly underneath it. Anything with violent intentions would be paralyzed as soon as they walked over it.

Yggdrasil looked far into the room and saw the staircase leading to the second floor where he assumed he would find lodgings for guests. If he learned a thing or two from a lifelong career as a breaker it's that there's always something in the guest rooms. It might be just a spoon out of place and have nothing to do with anything but it's always something. At that, he set off toward the second floor.

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....Despite being in enemy territory, Balthazar somewhat felt at ease. It had been so long since he had left Arcadia that he nearly felt giddy somewhere deep down. The different sights and animals interested him and he believed he'd like to build a summer house somewhere in this land when he conquers it.

He ran a hand through his sable hair and cleared the sweat that dripped from his forehead. It had been so long since he had had an opportunity to remove his helmet that it was almost cruel that the sun was hot enough to hardly make it feel as if he had. Day in and day out he wears the blasted thing until he can actually feel a small pool of sweat forming inside and with no safe place to take it off away from the eyes of others.

However, being in enemy territory, no one knows who he is and without the helmet no one would ever find out. It was ironic, really, that only in enemy territory he was free to live out in peace and when he is home he feels more at war than ever. He smiled at his musing and cast it away. Eventually, things would settle down and well... Hopefully, things would end well.

Distracting himself, he looked ahead as he approached Stonetown. He had been looking for it for a few days and it was finally there. He had secured his horse and belongings in a small farm not too far away and paid handsomely with a promise of more if everything is just as he had left it. There was little of actual value so he had little fear of anything being stolen but supplies and amenities were scarce out in the wild and he would like them back for the trip home. He had only brought a small knapsack where he had concealed his helmet as that is one item as valuable as his life.

His light armor and whip glistened in the sun and from far away, the orange and red of his clothes would make him appear as a moving flame ever approaching forward. He had wondered whether it had been wise coming alone but he could have not afforded any of his subordinates to guess the nature of the incursion and so he had no choice but to move out alone. He enjoyed the solitude as much as anyone else but he would have welcomed the company of well trained and experience soldiers at his side.

It was just then he noticed the soft sound of hooves on grass. His eyes tightened as they darted to the source and found a horse safely tethered against a tree.

“Could someone be here?” He wondered as he approached the animal that shied away from him. He inspected the animal's burden and found only traveling gear and rations. Nothing aroused his interest or suspicion. It would not be the first time profiteers came to steal from the misfortune. He supposed he would execute them if he finds them after taking any information they may have found within the town.

Leaving the horse be, he entered the town and made his way down Mason's Way, as the signpost noted his path, and upon arrive at an intersection he thought he heard something move in the distance.

“Looks like justice will come soon for these pilferers.” He thought to himself as Balthazar tightened the grip on his whip and made ready for an encounter.

He shuffled through the mass of people in the street, dodging the occasional inconsiderate or downright clumsy fellow when necessary. This combined with the staggering of his steps due to the uneven cobblestone and his upbeat stride almost gave him the appearance of dancing through the narrow street. His violet-trimmed doublet and slacks reinforced this perception. Ordinarily, one with his intentions might dress a little less conspicuously, but he was not much one for being inconspicuous. His name was Marcus Haywood, known in these part for being a small-time traveling merchant. But today he was not here for trading. Not with the living, anyway.

After rounding the final corner, he saw what he was looking for. It was an unremarkable tavern, but as he crossed the threshold his hopes swelled. His eyes also watered from the stench of liquor and testosterone floating through the air. Scanning the rat's-nest, he found what he was here for. Navigating the maze of tables, chairs, swinging arms, and even a fallen patron, he approached a pair of men at the bar. One of them, the one who was making short work of a glass of ale, he recognized as Lawrence. The other he presumed was one of the others in their party-to-be. "Lawrence, buddy! Getting drunk already? It's hardly noon!"

Edit: Totally rewritten due to a failure on my part.

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...Yggdrasil had searched room by room and, as he had always believed, something was out of place: one room with the bedsheets ruffled. Either someone was in town sleeping up here or everyone disappeared when the bed was unmade.

“What an useless clue.” He sighed out loud and looked up and down the hallway one last time. Absolutely nothing came to mind on what else to do in this building and he gave up on it.

As his head turned back to face the staircase, he thought he saw a glint of light sparkle in the corner of his eyes. Stopping frozen for a mere second as he worked it out in his head, he began to move slowly toward the window and looked out down on the street below.

The window faced an alleyway between the tavern and another building and through this alley walked an armor clad man with a bellowing orange cloak. A rolled up whip was held tightly in his right hand and a certain determination in the walk made Yggdrasil believe there to be some sort of trouble ahead.

“Who could that be...” He wondered. He did not seem like a local but more of a passerby like himself and that only meant that the man down there was also looking for something within this town. And Yggdrasil loved competition.

A small creak, ever so soft, flew to his ear and made his senses enter guard mode. His green eyes darted down toward the stairs as his mind recreated a map of the room below and tried to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

“It seems the man did not come alone.” He thought to himself as his fingers traced a quick but effective symbol at the top of the stairs. Anyone who would walk over it after he finished casting it would get set on fire. At least, it should unless they were some sort of powerful witch or a demon. Perhaps it was a man made of ice?

“Focus!” He breathed harshly to himself and began a slow decent down the stairs. Lowering himself, he stuck out his head from the side and observed the room below only to find a woman looking around the tavern.

Her hair was black as night but her face still soft despite a strong and determined look that haunted her features. She was beautiful in her own petite way but what drew his focus more was her weaponry. He could not help but wonder whether the armored man was friends with this woman and whether that meant trouble.

He looked away from her toward the door and saw his ward was still intact. Deciding she must be harmless, at the moment, toward him he decided to bring himself upright and walk down to greet her. He wasn't about to spend the rest of the day cooped up in here hiding from others armed or unarmed.

“Greetings. Can I get you anything? We have some excellent Vodka.” He began smiling but cautious descent down.
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...Yggdrasil made his way down to the foot of the stairs and there he made his stand still uncertain whether it was wise to make nice with the new arrival but he figured it was better than arousing any suspicion. He figured to think that as the stories of Stonetown where fresh so adventurers or the like would be coming and going every now and then until the initial excitement died down.

"That's too bad; the selection here is quite good." He took a step forward. "Might as well take a sip, not like the locals are making any use of it." He smiled and looked about to make sure no one else was skulking about. Being a saint required him to seem as least violent as possible and that meant to barely ever be caught with a weapon. Even in the direst of situations, it was considered an omen for a saint to ready for battle but what most did not bother to remember was that he was a breaker first a saint second.

Even without weapons, Yggdrasil was a dangerous man thanks to his experience and knowledge magic but he had to admit stabbing someone was faster and effortless compared to creating runes or curses. He liked the lifestyle however, it kept him away from direct confrontations and forced him to live instead of being bested in a fight. He had very little proficiency in any physical activity either way.

"Autumn? Pretty name; just like the season." He extended his hand in greeting and hoped the woman would be in the same mind set as him. Others always complicate the simplest of things. "I am... Ziggy. A fetcher of some sort. I was hoping to find what my client required in town as the object he seeks tend to be found in odd places such as this. Do you know anything about this... tragedy? I'd like to get out of here before whatever did this finds me." He finished off with a warm smile.

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...His eyebrows raised a little when the woman called herself an exorcist. It was more in interest than surprise, really, but he had always had a slight aversion to them. He believed in the good of what they could do but it only empowered religion and that was one thing he would rather prevent. Maybe more demons would run rampant across the world but at least it wouldn't be some silly ideological problem that a mass genocide would only aggravate.

"Yes, my demons and the like tend to leave rare alchemical substances or perhaps even artifacts when they're suddenly forcibly banished from our world and, well, there's always a good market for them." He retracted his hand and let it slump at his side for the moment. "I personally am quite the breaker. Places like this are... normal to me. I'm sure I could be a valuable asset to you if we do get to the bottom of this." In all honesty, it would have been simpler to reveal his true self and order her home but her gaze was somewhat strong and he knew that she'd follow her orders despite a saint's wish.

It wasn't the first time he lied on his identity. Ziggy was just your average breaker that could go unnoticed wherever he pleased but when he announced himself Saint Yggdrasil well then there was concessions, dinners, invitations, praying, begging, and so on. In those situation it would be impossible, and very impractical for a man of a stature, to sneak out. As luck would have it, few know how he looks the further he gets away from the papal city so a simple change of name gives his the status of a typical man.

Besides, an experienced swordswoman would facilitate dispatching any hostile monsters in the area. Or any other armed individual he may have seen skulking about.

"Yes, the upstairs is like the rest of town. Nothing out of place or unusual as if everything had been left and walked away from. Being a breaker, it shames me to say I know next to nothing as well yet but I've only just arrived. Anything could have happened but everything seems to tell me something made these people disappear such as mass hypnosis or some sort of blackmail. Unless, there's some powerful magicks hidden in this town somewhere." He looked away from out toward the window. In all honesty his best guess was the people were taken by something or some sort of force they could not even see but he's yet to see anything of the sort in all his years though he knew it was not impossible. "I suppose I could join you, seeing as I am unnamed and you seem quite capable. If I spot any magic I will safeguard you from it as long as you keep anything from jumping at me." He laughed at his own little comment carelessly.

"Don't go up those stairs. I may have left an immolating rune laying about." He smiled and gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"

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....It was a sight he was all too familiar with since the very first days of him entering the king's army. Monsters often hunted and preyed on lone soldiers at their posts and waited until night to raid in larger numbers. Soldier camps were nothing but thin tents made of sheets surrounded by spits and wagons. Monsters were quick and cunning and would easily draw out or overpower a soldier who had too much too drink or decided to relieve himself too far from the latrines.

A necrophage was common sight in the army as war brought many dead bodies for them to feast on and soon you had an entire nest of them. This one was a strange necrophage for he found himself in a town with no people and no bodies. Another oddity was the high noon sun shining down upon it and they were creatures of night that only came out in sunlight in great numbers or in desperation.

Balthazar did not like this one bit.

If necrophages were out and about in a ghost town, it meant there were no carcasses or living humans to find. The thing was now looking through windows and walking slowly as if unsure of what to do with itself. Balthazar wondered why this one had remained instead of finding new hunting grounds. Something must of given it the idea this was still a good place to be.

His light armor clinked softly as he made his way out of his hiding place and faced the creature, whip in hand and ready. The necrophage whirred around with a nasty snarl at Balthazar – if he did not know better he would have thought the creature famished.

He had wished his weapon be made of silver right now as clerica only affected demons but his skill alone should help him overcome the damned monstrosity but, as a man of war, he preferred having all the advantages.

With quick feet and surprisingly light steps, the beast assaulted Balthazar with an attempt to land squarely on his chest and arms raised and ready to flail him but Balthazar was just as quick and tumbled to the side against the wall and whipped the beast with a quick flick of the wrist on the side. The strength in the whip was lacking but still touched the creature hard enough for it to bring it's arm back but left no real damage.

The whip was an odd weapon as the actual power did not come from it being able to kill or main the enemy. Whips were made to subdue, control, and show dominance over the opponent with only flesh wounds if used properly. Though, a proper whip could still rip skin and muscle to shreds if applied expertly and he was an expert.

The necrophage hissed and approached more warily, it's dull black eyes in contorted in anger but dull in the inside. Balthazar moved slowly along the wall until he reached a more open area and he could put more weight behind his whip but the damned thing jumped in front of him and and tried skewering him with its hand. The blow landed mildly as Balthazar grabbed the arm before it could fully impact and drove the sword end of the his whip through it.

Howling, the necrophage lashed out and scraped his weapon arm as it bounded away to put some distance between them. With the corner of his eye, the rest of it squarely on the necrophage, Balthazar looked for the damage caused and saw three red gashes through his ripped sleeve. The damned beast had got him right between the armor plates. It was either lucky or very bright but that mattered little now. Balthazar had the advantage.

Balthazar had all the arm room he needed to keep the beast at bay and took full advantage of hit. He rained cracks of his whip at the necrophage, some meant to hit, some meant to warn, but little by little the necrophage began backing up and looked uncertain in which direction to approach so it did its best to stand its ground.

However, Balthazar had no desire to toy with the flesh-eating monstrosity and gave it a surprise flick to the eye. The necrophage's head flinched back and temporarily it could not see anything or faced the right direction as it tried to stabilize itself.

As it's head returned to face Balthazar, one eye swollen and closed, the second eye barely had the second required to register that it was in danger. Balthazar had taken the chance to run up the creature and, with the sharp end of the whip, rammed the hilt down into the things brain.

There was a short chocking sound and blood oozed out of the injury as the creature slumped dead upon the floor. Balthazar wiped his whip across the ground and reached into his pocket to reveal a tinderbox.

He set the body on fire and began walking away from it. Necrophages were best reduced to ash. Already that their bodies were unholy, no need to attract other carrion beasts with a freshly rotting corpse.

It was as he began to turn the corner that he noticed a pile of rubble on the ground. A strange thing to see for a town that seemed immaculate in all its nook and crannies. As he approached, with a cautious look toward the burning corpse behind him, he realized the rubble was that of a statue.

He could only tell the statue was of a human because a half of the face remained distinguishable from the rest and it had been staring at his fight from the very beginning. The odd thing was that the statue had only recently broken as he could still see the dust particles of broken stone that had not been swept away by the wind or hidden by the rain. Scratches, those much resembling to that of a necrophage, were seen all across the rubble and he wondered whether the creature had attacked the statue when it mistook it for a human in its hunger?

He heard steps and a voice coming from the other direction. As he turned, he realized someone calling out inside the building he had just passed and down the other path he saw a large man and black haired woman making their way down the street. Could they be who the horse belonged to? They could not have arrived together or their belongings would have been together.

“Treasure hunters and pillagers.” He spat the words with a bit of disdain. Deciding it was time he found out more about the interlopers, he made his way to where the voice came from and found himself in the back of a storeroom filled with musty and dark tanks of, what he presumed, beer and ale.

Moving through the dimly lit room, he strode quickly and opened the only door he could find and found himself emerging in the back of a bar with shelves of colored bottles and in front of him stood a large muscled man.

Balthazar did nothing. As a judge, he would let the others do the first move before he began. Justice always gave a chance and never jumped to conclusions. He smiled to himself, knowing it was mostly crap for many judges. After all, they were the law.

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....Yggdrasil was pleased the exorcist had accepted the alliance so readily and honestly. It was pleasant when he met smart and tactful people. He had met enough ignorant barbarians to write entire volumes about but no words could encompass the joy of a world of men that makes sense.

They had only momentarily stepped out when they had heard a man yelling from the building they had just left. Honestly, Yggdrasil felt surprised that there was more than Autumn, he, and the man from earlier loitering about. The universe must have thought it to be a good day to gather a group of strangers in a strange town.

As they retraced their steps, he found himself behind Autumn as she blocked the entrance and he decided to remain at the door frame and look as to how things unfold.

Before them stood a large and muscular man with red hair and visible scars sprawled over his body and Autumn was seeing whether he be a friendly man or a dangerous cutthroat. Not that the man could best both of them at once.

“Autumn,” He whispered near her ear. “There's a paralytic rune where you're standing. If he aggravates and steps on it, it'll shock him and stun him if he's not too enduring.”

Just then, another man emerged from the back of the tavern all clad in light armor and orange garments with a complimentary cape. His face was hard and sharp and Yggdrasil could already tell this was a dangerous man but it was to be seen how he would respond on barging unto them like this.

Yggdrasil noticed Autumn eying his weapon and he understood what she had noticed. Despite having no helmet on, this was definitely a judge. Being a saint, he had met many judges as he traveled the lands and spoke with the nobles and kings on behalf of the church but he could not recall seeing this one before. There was only so many judges in each kingdom and he figured by the man's youth that he must not have been a judge long.

“You just call them like you see them, don't you?” He said audibly to Autumn as she called the man as an agent of the crown. The judge was probably trying to keep a low profile and Autumn had nearly revealed him. He had hoped the man would not see his cover blown as some sort of threat. A judge would decimate the both of them or prove troubling enough to force them to take a day to recover and Yggdrasil did not have time for any of those.

The real problem here was: would the judge recognize him?

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....The situation bothered Balthazar in the slightest way. Not only where there here looters but it seemed as different groups had decided to stroll into town all at once. It had to be some sort of joke God felt like playing on them.

As the woman spoke, he realized who she was from her attire. The holy items she carried could only mean that she was from the church and with a weapon in hand she must be an exorcist. He was too far to look into her eyes and the light erupting from behind her from the doorway silhouetted her far too much.

“Hail, strangers.” Balthazar began, deciding it was best to play the role the woman had given him. “I do work for the king here. The rumors of the town have bothered him and he wanted this matter resolved. With the possibility of war coming here in a few years he desires to have stability in his kingdom or he won't have anything to defend.”

He made his way around the bar and seated himself on one of the stools, arms crossed and revealing the whip in his right hand. Balthazar began to think that as long as they thought he was one of the local king's men than there would be little problem if they even found out that he was a judge.

He had no issue joining hands with these men and woman but he wondered just how useful they would be. The tall red haired man did not seem strong physically and he could discern no weapons, the large brut was a brut, and he disliked the church and their emissaries.

It's like someone made sure to not give him anyone ideal.

“There are necrophages in the area. I've just slain one but there could be more.” He thought of adding the particularity of the statue he had found but decided to keep it to himself. The faster these people were out of here, the better. “However, if you have no official business here, I suggest you leave. The king wants this over with quickly and discreetly. I can't have brigands and thrill seekers lurking about.”

This would at least weed out their intentions and hopefully some sort of clue as to what was going on here. Damodeus wanted to know whether this was a natural incident or if something had caused it and to bring back whatever held this much power. Balthazar did not know why the king wanted it but it was not really his place to question so far. Yet.

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