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Alexa Morrow

"Wanderer is not the term I would use... more of a... soldier of fortune."

0 · 1,142 views · located in Vasquera

a character in “Deadman's March”, as played by Zentose

Description



Alexa Morrow



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”Silence is a true friend that never betrays.” – Confucius


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Name: Alexa Morrow

Age: 23

Race: Human

Gender: Female


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Hair and Eyes: Alexa has long, dark brown hair that reaches down between her shoulder blades. She doesn't take much care of it, simply washing it when she bathes, yet it remains rather good looking, not extremely fair, but still rather pleasant. Her eyes are a deep, dark, piercing blue.

Complexion: Her skin is relatively pale, yet still has a slightly dark tone, as she is a newcomer in the desert. She has faint scars along her back from being whipped by her mother.

Height and Weight: 5' 9'' (175 cm) | 141 lbs. (64 kg)

Body Type: Alexa has a rather medium-sized body, not narrow and slim, but not wide and broad. She has a muscular waist; she exercises it daily to maximize her mobility(The abdomen is the key to all swift mobility in combat). Her arms are strong, but not as strong as the average swordsman. She has very strong legs, allowing her to spring very fast and also do long jogging for a good while. She has a medium sized bust, she would prefer it to be smaller, but there's nothing she can do about it, she's tried.

Preferred Clothing: Alexa wears a light leather jerkin, as well as leather boots, gloves, and pants. She has light chainmail, but only wears it when necessary. She always has a large cloak with her as well, covering most of her body.



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ImageFighting Style: Alexa favors a composite bow, expertly using her agility and stealth to her advantage, often taking out opponents before they know she is there. That is not to say that she cannot perform under pressure, for she keeps an extremely calm head throughout combat. When faced with close ranged combat she utilizes a short(60 centimeters) steel spatha sword in her right hand, and a steel stiletto dagger in her left, which she uses to quickly take down opponents using skillful maneuvering, as she is unable to overpower most people.

ImagePersonality: Alexa plays her cards close to home, because she has to. Human interaction is something she desires, but she was always unable to find someone to interact with, as interaction usually led to nothing but pain. The few people that have understood her either ended up dead or left her, but she still wants nothing more than to find someone that won't die on her or leave. Despite her sordid history, she is caring and kind most of the time, but is subject to fits of anger, being tempered only by loss or a desire for justice. Alexa cannot handle loss in a very good way, as it has brought nothing but pain to her life, when she experiences a great loss, she becomes ruthless, deadly, and frightening. Alexa also has a strong desire to see justice done in the world, she knows that the world is not black and white, but she still has a personal code of right and wrong which she tends to heed. She will not pursue justice as she would revenge, but she still wishes to see it done.

Alexa can put on a strong demeanor in the face of the greatest pain, sorrow, and misery. She can seem calm, cool, and collective(and remain relatively so) under nigh-any circumstance. Even during her fits of anger she keeps a calm head, she just gives into her baser desires. She dislikes bad parents(specifically mothers) and has a soft spot for children. She constantly gives to poor orphans and such, not wanting to see children starve on the streets, and she is always protecting them if they're in danger(whether it's from the city guard or the merchants they steal from). She gets involved in physical disputes, but tends to stay out of vocal ones, so she usually watches to make sure it STAYS vocal. Alexa has a soft spot for the Deadmen, she dislikes but does not stop those who insult them as they walk by, or refuse them services, but that is out of self-preservation, as she would become a pariah if she did any differently.

Brief History: Alexa was born in a small island kingdom to a wealthy merchant, a man named Bodhan, and his wife, Tiffany. Bodhan was a kind man, he ran a fair trading business with many people from many different lands, and always treated both his wife and daughter with love and respect. Tiffany was scornful of the attention her father gave, her being a selfish woman. Alexa was always treated horribly whenever Bodhan was away, but she never told him anything about it when he returned.

When Alexa finally told her father of her mother's transgressions, Tiffany killed him before her daughter's eyes. After disposing of the body, Bodhan's brother, Michael, took over his estate, and married his wife(as was the tradition of their people). Tiffany was unenthused about this, but luckily for her Michael had his eyes on another, an eleven-year-old Alexa. Tiffany told him he could have Alexa, and Michael tried to do just that, only to have his throat bit out by Alexa. She broke her mother's leg with a chair and set the house on fire, leaving her childhood home accompanied by a macabre serenade of the screams of her burning mother.

Stowing away on a merchant vessel, Alexa made her way to another continent, another life, another city. She began to steal within the city, taking scraps of food and what money she could get, she was good at what she did, but she was overly cautious, going many a night without food. During this stint as a beggar and thief, Alexa learned to rely on herself, as well as how to move quickly and perceive people well. She met a man(and stole his coin purse) when she was fourteen who saw something in her, not the clichΓ© potential, but the pain. He saw all the pain in her eyes, as he had the same eyes. The man was a soldier named Alistair Cromwell, more specifically, he was a Deadman. Most people avoided him like the plague, casting aspersions of pox and death on him and his family. Alistair was a kind man, for what it was worth, he was down-to-earth and honest, all-in-all a good man while sober. After much "convincing," the enforcers allowed Alexa to stay with Alistair, and whenever he had time he would show her how to fight, he knew the basics of archery but favored two swords. She built immensely on the groundwork's he laid, developing her archery skills greatly, and learning how to fight with two swords as he did. Eventually she switched to a sword and a dagger, finding the imbalance easy to use to her advantage, given her stature.

By the time she was nineteen she was crafted into a powerful killing machine. Alistair died for a second and final time in the same year, his head removed; the constables of the city did nothing, not caring for a slain Deadman. Alexa conducted her own investigation, leaving a trail of dead in her wake, she found the men she was looking for, she killed them in the most violent and painful way she could think of. She ran from the city after this, stealing a horse and riding off.

Her surrogate father was dead, just as her real father was, both killed, and she was powerless to stop it. She went from town to town, taking odd jobs here and there to get money, just enough to keep herself drunk, happy, and alive. Once she was twenty-one, she met another Deadman, this one was a woman. Her name was Zoya Poltorik, she was in her mid-thirties and was an amazing fighter, favoring two swords, just like Alistair. Zoya's unit had been killed and she was injured greatly, Alexa nursed her back to health and joined her, as she couldn't return without completing the contract. Alexa and Zoya became quick friends, Zoya bringing Alexa out of her depression and Alexa giving Zoya a reason to continue fighting, as she had none other than fighting itself before.

Alexa and Zoya were together for almost two years, when Zoya finally completed her mission, it was a long drawn out campaign against a cult of mages trying to summon an army of Colossi. When it was over Alexa received her first kiss, however unwanted, from Zoya, before parting ways. Although Alexa had no romantic feelings for Zoya, she still thought of her as her only friend, and was sad to see her go. With a heavy heart, Alexa left the area she was in and rode off, to the deserts of Shevasse, hoping to find work or some sort of calling.

Theme song:Wildfire, Part II: One with the Mountain - Sonata Arctica

Other: She has a brown and white horse named Chevalier.

So begins...

Alexa Morrow's Story

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Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow
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#, as written by Zentose

Alexa Morrow


The scorching desert sun hung overhead, illuminating the light sandstone buildings. The people aimlessly wandered throughout the small marketplace as Alexa skillfully traversed the herd. She hadn't been in Shevasse too long and was still getting used to the ungodly heat that permeated around her throughout the day. A small child ran and bumped into her, trying to run away afterwards, only to have his arm grabbed in the process.

"Let go!" he yelled in protest.

"I believe you have something of mine," Alexa responded, looking into his eyes.

"No!" he yelled again, hiding his arm behind his back in an non-stealthy manner.

Alexa reached behind his back and ripped her coin purse from his small grasp. She scoffed and said, "You have some skills, but you need to pick your targets better. Don't go after someone with a visible weapon, just for self preservation. Go after the merchants once they close up shop, or the richer folks right after they've purchased something," She let go of his arm and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the boy.

"Thank ya' ma'am!" he said, shocked.

"Run along now."

He nodded before trotting off.

The town was much smaller than the one Alexa grew up in, it has more opportunity, and more people to share that opportunity with. She hadn't the time to reminisce however, she had a job. She continued on to the Inn, where she was meeting someone who had posted a job offer to someone who could fight monsters. Alexa needed work and assumed it would pay well, seeing as the Deadmen did that sort of thing usually. She entered the Inn, it was relatively cool in comparison to the outside, and it was not too full either, a few people here and their enjoying their drinks and meals. Alexa wandered over to the bar, where a cute barmaid was, she had dark skin and black hair which was kept in a ponytail.

Her greens eyes moved over to Alexa. She smiled beautifully and said in a honeyed voice, "Can I help you, sweetie?"

"I hope you can," Alexa said, returning the smile, "I was wondering if you knew where a man named Arlo Tann was."

"Aye, Arlo's just over there," she said, pointing to a table where a large man sat. He looked rather old, but still in excellent shape, his muscles clearly defined through his clothing.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Alexa smiled at the barmaid once more before sauntering to Arlo's table, sitting across from him.

"Who the hell are you?" he said in an angry tone, slamming his flagon on the table.

"I'm here about your job offer," Alexa said, looking him in the eye's with a monotonous expression on her face.

"I wanted someone who could fight monsters, if I need a refill on my drink I'll call for you. Now leave."

Alexa scoffed, "I could kill you and every person in this room in five seconds, then escape the city without a scratch on me."

"Bullshit."

"Want to test me?" Alexa glared into his eyes.

Arlo sighed, "I suppose I am short on time... Very well... The aqueduct's blocked off and water ain't flowing to the city. Without the water, we all die."

"This seems like a job for a mason, not a mercenary."

"There is something nefarious about the stop in flow, we masons aren't fighters."

"Okay, then this seems like a job for a Deadman, not a mercenary."

"I don't trust those freakish living corpses..."

"They do their jobs well, why should you care?"

Arlo scoffed, "Plus, if the head mason sent out a bunch of Deadmen for a structural problem, it'd take even longer for the water flow to get back."

"That's a bad thing, isn't it?"

"For the people yes, but for someone willing to seize the opportunity, no."

"Ah, I see," Alexa didn't like the plan Arlo had, but she needed money, and the small town seemed relatively tapped out as far as work went(which was odd, seeing as the area was flooded with monsters).

"The Deadmen are leaving later today, you'll have to hurry."

"I'll ride out as soon as possible," Alexa quickly left the Inn, moving through the marketplace once more. She moved to the city gates and received her horse, Chevalier. He didn't like the heat much, but he could still ride well. Alexa saw the Deadmen loading into the back of a caravan and knew she had to hurry. She pet Chevalier's neck once before grabbing hold of his reins and riding out.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow
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#, as written by Zentose

Alexa Morrow


Chevalier and Alexa trotted past the Caravan. Alexa caught a glimpse of a mountainous beast coated in black armor being loaded into the Deadmen's caravan. He was a curious sight to be sure. The hot sun would have boiled a man alive in his armor, but it's a good thing he was already dead. Something made her feel uneasy about the man, it was not just in the way he looked, or the fact that he was chained, but his callous and intention-less movement. But she hadn't the time to waste watching the group of Deadmen gear up, she needed to move.

The relentless sun beat down upon the sands, making Alexa's blue eyes burn. She squinted a bit before kicking Chevalier in the side, causing him to ride a bit faster along the walls of Gaudi's. She reached the aqueduct after a short time and began a slight gallop, enough not to tire Chevalier quickly, but still enough to keep well ahead of the caravan. Alexa wasn't used to the desert, the hot sun, the endless sands, she had an amazing sense of direction in forests, which she was used to, but the sands were constantly changing, a mercurial expanse of sand and death awaited any who ventured from the walls of Gaudis. She didn't care however, most things in her life were ephemeral after all, why not the landscape as well?

After a time, she found the problem, and it was quite a problem.

She rode up a dune and gazed upon a rare sight. A Dune Serpent, dead. One of the braces of an aqueduct had been smashed to pieces by a great Dune Serpent, the water fell down upon the sands, smashing into the rocks, as well as the dead, bony, corpse of the serpents. Around it were dozens of mangled corpses, torn to pieces, crushed, and bloodied. Sand Reapers. How they had managed to kill a Dune Serpent, Alexa didn't know. All she knew was that there were still too many Sand Reapers around their kill, too many for her to take alone. It meant she wouldn't get paid for the job.

She sighed, "Well Chevalier, I guess we should still help take care of them, even if we won't be able to complete the contract..."

Chevalier neighed back.

Alexa rode back down the dune, out of sight, then hopped off of Chevalier and petted her, "Stay here."

She pulled out her bow and loaded an arrow up, she sprinted to behind one of the aqueduct supports that was a good ways away(but not too far to shoot) and waited.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack
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Trista Anerwyn


The wagon stopped. Peering forward, Trista squinted to observe the scene for herself. Lying over piles of shattered stone rubble was a slain Dune Serpent, shredded and split open in a myriad of gaping wounds. Water from the disconnected bridge spilled down into the sands and she could only think: What a terrible, terrible waste. Standing around the wreckage was a number of armored men, tribal, perhaps. Trista directed her arm out toward the back.
"Everyone out!"

The caravans unloaded and the Deadmen disembarked, nearing the aqueduct. Upon closer inspection, Trista realized that the figures surrounding the carcass were not humans. She held her shield at her left side and halted the troops with the sword in in her right.

"Reapers," she simply said, eyeing them as they worked at the corpse with their weapons and tools.
"You don't reckon they'll leave if we ask them nicely?" a Deadman toned in sarcastically as he approached from behind her. Despite the light quip of his, his tone suggested that he knew exactly what they were going to be dealing with, and that it was certainly no joking matter.

"We'll make the first move," she gestured with her weapon. "They're not leaving until they've taken everything they want, and that means the bones, the meat, not to mention the water and the colossal trophy they'd love to bring back to their dens. We go in, stomp them out, and we get to work on that broken bridge." Trista turned around, watching as some of the heads bobbed and weaved around for a better look at the creatures. "One thing I'd like to make clear before we jump in," she shouted for the Deadmen to hear, hitting the blade against her shield as a call for attention. "Once we engage, do not attempt to flee no matter what the circumstance. Not only will they outrun you, they will chase you to the ends of the world until your are dead, and that means back into the ground dead."

The sand reapers did not take long to notice the presence, first sniffing the dry desert air around them before finally watching them walk down along the support pillars, raising their weapons up in their hands. There were sharp growls and roars as they approached, others making indiscernible threats and gestures. One of them was clearly the chieftain of the lot, donned in the skulls and weathered skins of dead monsters, presumably ones it had personally killed. It propped its spear vertically into the dirt and the bone charms strung from the neck jingled like rattling stones as it did so. Baring its teeth, it snarled and waved off the Deadmen with a fierce sweep of its arm.
"Pghah! Pathetic, miserable humans," it snapped. "Always looking so foolishly for death out in these deserts. This is no place for you." It shook its spear at them and a low guttural sound rang from the back of its throat. "Do not waste our time here! Your bones are worth almost nothing!"

"Ignore them," Trista said calmly, noticing that some had slowed in bouts of caution. They were right to underestimate humans. Reapers were far stronger, faster, and more experienced in combat than most venerable soldiers could ever hope to be. She remembered her first encounter with these beasts. She didn't take the expedition leader's advice, and she ran as far as her legs could take her, which wasn't very far because she had been split clean in half in a matter of seconds. That, understandably, took ages to recover from even with the help of magic. But as it stands now, she'd fought these things a countless number of times along fellow soldiers over her years, and while they were certainly as skilled and powerful as they appeared, perhaps even more so, one gets used to slaying such creatures. Deadmen and living humans could not be compared.
"Kill them," she ordered.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes
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#, as written by Aporia
It took about a couple of hours before the wet brown robe turned just damp and the time spent until then was rather uneventful. Condors attempted to attack the flock before one of them was blinded in both eyes by the reflection of a certain pocket mirror and briefly entered a frenzy, wildly clawing at the air, and the other condors around it. While it may have been just a scratch, the predators started to fiercly fight amongst themselves as the prey simply moved on.

"Ar tai, kΔ… tu nori?"
Duok mums kraujΔ…, kraujas yra jΔ—ga, karas ir taika.

They wanted blood and at any moment, David could give the sand spirits blood by slitting the throats of one of the sheep, preferably a ram but then he risked putting stress on the flock and under the intense heat of the desert, they're already tired. Seeing the slaughter of a sheep by no less their shepherd would probably cause them to either scatter and waste more time or to drop over dead themselves. As ridiculous as it sounds its happened before and will most likely happen again in this god forsaken excuse for a land.

The cheese had unsurprisingly gone bad in the heat and was forced to be thrown out and what was left to eat was the salted meats and bread. It filled enough of the stomach with a swig of water from his canteen. David knew the importance of eating and drinking in moderation, especially when traveling, as fighting with a full stomach results in nothing but death and vomit, neither going well together or separate.

For what seemed to be another hour after eating, he could see, right on the direction towards town, the giant skeleton of what he can only comprehend to be the remains of a snake-like monster. Two groups stood off from one another, one of whom were considerably taller then the rest and were adorned in something of charms, while the other had different varying sizes of persons and individuals.

Fights have a remarkable quality to be quick to finish. It was a testament to how frail the body was. There was no way he could get around the fight before it was ended and he'd be the next target and it's more safe to assume that both were hostile forces until he could closer identify them.

"Abe, wait and hold." The collie obeyed the order, and turned around to keep himself and the sheep in place while David grew closer and closer to the conflict. He could enter the ranks of the battle unannounced and give the surprise attack needed to provide safe passage.

The sand spirits were begging, almost screaming for blood, their voices ringing inside his head. Nobody seemed to have noticed the veiled man in the brown robe with the crook except for one stray sand reaper. The bones which hung off him clanked as he rushed into a full sprint with his bone axe raised, his speed surprisingly fast for the giant of a monster he was, the tribal warrior.

David pulled the trigger of his crossbow and let the bolt fly from the inside of his robe straight into the gut of the creature, the pain causing the thing to lose it's balance and to fall and tumble on the sides, stopping mere inches from the shepherd's feet. Had the warrior been given the two seconds to swing his blade from the ground, he might've scored his kill for the day, but as soon as he hit the ground, the small shepherd was already on his chest with two daggers in hand, stabbing wildly through the exposed areas of throat, two, three, six, eight times. The Sand Reaper was still breathing, his throat exposed, gurgling and he squirmed, screaming in a mix of anger, pain and incredulity as the sand started to swallow him up, his words contorted and undecipherable, but loud none the less.

The shepherd got up from the body, his back hunched, entire front of his brown robe was stained with the red splatter, as well as some parts of his makeshift veil straw hat. He took some of the sand in his mouth, took his knife in one hand, the crook in another, and ran towards the strange column before another two more of the tribal warriors, one carrying a shield and bone-sword while the other carried a a spear, most likely the group of the aggressors of the conflict, came towards him.

He lured the first one to the pillar, spun around it, spat out the billow of sand in his mouth from the other side, into eyes of the one with the sword, causing him to be blinded, trying to force his eyes open by hand. David quickly took advantage of the opening to get to the warrior's side to use him as a temporary shield against his fellow spear ally.
"Move!" The creature shouted but it was too late, as the unprotected hamstring of the warrior with the sword and shield was slit and he was forced to a kneeling position, unable to stand, shouting something about his leg.
"Dalis bΕ«das! The shepherd shouted towards the one with the spear when suddenly the sand that was under his right foot sunk down four feet, catching him by surprise but leaving David the chance to charge, flipping the end of his crook around to the sharpened end to use as a spear before lunging at the warrior and taking him to the ground.

The tribal warrior's spear slashed through the side of the shepherd, cutting through fabric and skin, the blood ran, and the pain was all to familiar but David had gone through the bone armour into the reaper's chest. He backed up from the downed warriors, hands and feet still burrowed in the ground like a rabid dog, the straw hat veil fallen off and his human face clearly visible, growling almost before the incantations came loose from his lips.

The sand spirits were ecstatic.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes Character Portrait: Eolan Kalris
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#, as written by Mosinau
Nobody had expected Eolan to leave the wagons, and he had not expected it himself. After all, the mission itself was no concern of his; he had insisted that the only service required of him for the job was maintenance on the deadmen. An opportunity had arisen, however, and if there was anything worth the disturbance it was a fresh dune serpent corpse.

Unnoticed by those who had exited the second wagon before him, Eolan approached the back of the group and pulled back his hood, looking past them at the scene below. There was indeed a young serpent lying across the ruins of the aqueduct, a pack of reapers surrounding it. Even from a distance, he could see they had already picked the monster clean. All six eyes had been removed, its horns smashed to powder or claimed as trophies; the tentacles were nowhere to be seen. Most of the valuable parts were taken; it was now his priority that these creatures not be allowed to escape. He examined the group of reapers one by one, his gaze settling on a particularly decorated specimen as the most likely culprit. A shaman, perhaps? He stood out in front of his pack, trading shouted obscenities with the deadmen from the first wagon, taking no notice of the fall of water beside him gradually slowing to a drip.

Before long, there was a disturbance, a lone warrior sowing chaos in their ranks. Scarcely had the chieftain turned away from their group to look when an enormous torrent of water was abruptly let loose from the mouth of the canal and plummeted to the ground with a deafening crash. The force of the blow extinguished the reaper in the blink of an eye, and both parties froze, shocked into dumfounded silence.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes
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#, as written by Zentose

Alexa Morrow


She didn't wait long, as she knew she wouldn't. The Deadmen came in, brave, ready, and a bit brutish. They alerted the Sand Reapers to their presence immediately, and readied themselves for an assault. It was clear who the leader was now, an attractive woman armed well, eerily reminiscent of Zoya actually. Alexa smiled before turning from the sight. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Time seemed to slow down as she quickly moved out from behind her cover, her dark clothing juxtaposing the white sand well, making her extremely visible, though her distance was great enough that none of the Reapers noticed her, as they were mainly focused on the Deadmen. She drew the string back with grace and let loose an arrow. It silently, harmoniously, traveled across the sands, entering the skull of a single Reaper.

Alexa hadn't the strength or skill to take on more than one Sand Reaper up close(she was only human after all). So she decided to do what she did best, let others die in her place while she picked off foes from afar. One of the Deadmen seemed particularly ferocious, charging into the fray like a wild beast, something about her excited Alexa. But she quelled the feeling, as she always did when using her bow. With untold speed she launched even more arrows into the enemy group. As the Deadmen forced their way through, a few of Sand Reapers diverted their attention to the two strangers there as well. One a Sheppard, the other, was Alexa.

Three Sand Reapers left the horde to attack Alexa, whom had fired a good volley into their group and had finally received the attention she deserved. Their bone armor clanked around as they moved on, the charms they wore making a macabre symphony of their arrival. She slowly began moving back as she fired arrow after arrow into the oncoming group. She took one of them by hitting him in the eye and the leg, he fell down, unable to move as she fired half a dozen arrows into another one's chest. Alexa got one arrow off into the last one, hitting him in the arm before Alexa tossed her bow aside, drawing her blade and dagger. The Reaper brought down a large and chipped bone-cleaver towards Alexa, whom narrowly dodged the strike. She rolled around the Reaper and stabbed him in the side with her dagger. He used his off hand to knock her away, the dagger remaining in his side. She was knocked a few meters away, she quickly rolled up again.

The Reaper let out a howl as it swung it's cleaver horizontally at her. She ducked and sprang forward, slicing his leg, and grabbing her dagger once more. He didn't fall, despite the grievous wound in his leg, he didn't even seem to slow down as he rushed towards her once more. He was ungodly fast, swinging the cleaver at her once more. Alexa moved away just a bit too late and got a large cut on her arm, the blood flowed for less than a second before she sprang up and jabbed her dagger into his neck. She was breathing heavily as the Reaper stood still, the blood leaving his neck slowly. Alexa ripped the dagger out and watch him fall before she fell down herself. The cleaver had sliced right through her jerkin, her arm was bleeding profusely. She realized that she was lucky, as normally she would have received a much worse wound, possibly a deadly one.

She took only a second before getting up again. Her bow was on the ground not too far away, but she noticed the third Sand Reaper, eyeless and hobbled, approaching her only a second too late...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack
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Screaming in anger, Kryssis clove off a reaper's arm. The appendage fell to the sand, still writhing almost as if it wanted to try and avenge its severance by running her through with the weapon held fast in its hand. The infuriated reaper swung at her madly with its other hand, the wild blow just barely missing her. The creature's claws grazed her midriff, drawing a trickle of blood and nearly knocking her off-balance. She plunged a saber through the reaper's throat, the blade cutting straight through its spine and killing it almost instantly. Without even pausing to catch her breath, the Wyvernjack ducked down under the wide arc of a swinging blade. The massive sword whistled just over her head, and she felt it sucking the air along with it. The damned thing meant to cut a hole in the world itself! She righted herself, staring for only an instant as the behemoth chugged onward through the melee, obliterating everything his weapon touched. She spat out a swear and a blessing on the giant's path, diverting her attention back to the struggle at hand.

An axe sunk down into the sand just inches in front of her, and instead of simply raising the weapon again, the reaper charged forward with the head still buried in the ground in an attempt to crush her underfoot. Rolling aside, she narrowly managed to avoid the assault, and crippled the reaper by slitting its hamstrings. It came crashing down to its knees with a shriek of pain. Kryssis turned a sabre upside down and sank it deep into the thing's back, sawing it up through the beast's spine. It convulsed and choked, blood leaking from its mouth, until it slumped forward. Its slid off her sword, its own weight sufficient to unsheath her weapon from its corpse.

Her eyes turned up and caught on a sight aside from the main fray. A lone figure facing off against several reapers at once. Most were dead, but one was just injured and seemed rather vengeful. It was hell-bent on claiming a kill, and the fighter's attention seemed to have been pulled from this approaching threat. Ordinarily Kryssis would have seen this as merely an unworthy warrior being killed by their own carelessness. The desert claims weakness with death, as was the order of life among the wastes. But something stirred down in her gut that pushed her feet against every command her mind yelled out in indignation. She closed in on the reaper just as it was about to strike and with a swing of her sabres the head went falling to the sand with a heavy thump! and rolled off down the slope a ways. She spared the girl a glance, her face expressionless, and then raced back into the battle.

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Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack
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Alexa Morrow


Alexa had her hand on her dagger and her other hand on her blade, knowing she hadn't the speed to take out the Reaper, or even avoid the blow. There was some irony to it, really. Being killed in the Desert, in the middle of nowhere, when helping Deadmen. The Reaper was bringing its weapon down upon Alexa, when its head was detached from its body. There was a slight thump when the head fell against the sands, and a louder one when its body fell to the ground, lifeless. A woman, a Deadman, was there, her blades soaked in Reaper blood. Her face showed no emotion, yet her body showed ferocity. She threw a glance Alexa's way, which Alexa met with her own. Her eyes were beautiful in their own way, different, some might say inhuman.

"Thank-" Alexa began before the woman charged off into the fray once more, "-you..." Her movement was gorgeous, feral, bestial, but logical, it was mesmerizing, Alexa felt like she was in a trance for a moment as she watched the woman run and fight. She snapped out of it after a moment and grabbed her bow again. The pain in her right arm was manageable, and she would get to it once the Reapers were all dead. The Deadmen were sending a volley of arrows down upon the Reapers, their numbers grew thin while the Deadmen pressed on. Alexa saw the monstrous creature clad in armor that she saw back at Gaudis, it was slicing through the crowd a reapers like a warm knife through soft butter. He was a beast, plain and simple. The bad feeling she had when she first laid eyes on him was amplified as he fought.

Moving her gaze away from the beast, she returned her gaze to the ever decreasing horde of Reapers, if they had been human, they would have fled. She raised her bow once more and began to fire into the horde, this time it was very unlikely that they would have the strength to send another detachment her way.

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Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes
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#, as written by Aporia
For just a moment, David had just stopped from the mere shock and surprise of the effect of his action, seemingly halting the beast in its place as his shoulder collided into the thing's leg. Just as quickly, he tried pushing into the thing's leg but with no effect, both the shepherd was not strong enough and that beast too heavy.

With one hand on the sand near the beast's foot, the sand spirits spoke in schizophrenic voices, demanding blood, peace, rot, and change, and now even the water spirits spoke, arguing with the latter. The incantations felt heavier as they left the shepherd's lips,strained and reduced to a whisper.

"KelionΔ—s ir sustabdyti mano-"

The kick took the tiny man completely off guard, taking all the air out of his lungs sending him flying a few meters ahead through the dust cloud, and landing hard on his bloody side, his crook fallen somewhere in the sand. The pain swam in his head like acid to his brain, blurred for a moment, his ears ringing, seemingly dead until the blurred shape of something came into his view. A rush of instinct took over as he finally inhaled a breath of fresh air and plunged the knife in his left hand into the feet of the reaper that was too busy.

David got back to his feet quickly, his gut aching as he did so, and slashed the reaper's bare hamstrings. When the creature fell to it's knees, the shepherd realized how he did it so easily, coming up from behind the warrior, and it having his hands full with the wild woman carrying the two scimitars. The marked face of the shepherd gazed upon her for just a moment before he jumped to the back of the kneeling reaper and kicked off it to the opposite direction, using the downed creature as an obstacle and to run from the woman who so easily tore into these creatures.

His footing was just off, nearly falling before recovering and discovered the original beast that had so easily reduced him to such pain, in the direction he was running towards. In a mix of desperation and survival instinct, turned on the balls of his feet to the side, where a sand reaper wielding a battle-axe that was taller then David himself stood, and he stopped in place, falling backwards on the side as the creature was ready to strike.

The desert was too hot to fight in, the heat taking it's toll on the man's endurance and his spirit, frantically letting loose words from his lips, panicking too much for them to take effect.

The arrows pierced the reaper's side in an instant, these not from an ordinary volley, but just a single lone archer that he couldn't see. In that instant the beast paused, as if stunned for the moment, garnering the opportunity for the shepherd to get back on his feet, spotting his crook lying a few feet away, near the beast.

David didn't see the same hulking monster everyone else saw, he barely saw any creature as one of a whole but just limbs and parts, simple, easy targets. There was no such thing as thinking. Just do.

The shepherd panted, desperate for air as he looked at the giant, swaying left to right, spotting and swiftly picking up the head of a beheaded warrior by his feet, lips moving ever so softly.
Didysis smΔ—lis, gali jums padΔ—ti mano ΕΎingsnis-" He charged straight towards the giant, shouting the last words to the top of his voice like a battle cry,

"ir aklΕ³jΕ³ mano prieΕ‘ai!" The wind blew for a moment, before the sand around the warrior suddenly kicked up, creating a large sand-cloud to lower the visibility.

Just as the shepherd stopped on the balls of his feet to jump and roll to the other side, he threw the disembodied head of the reaper at the Thing to give it a false lead in it's blindness. From now, he'd rely on his memory and what shapes he could make out neaar him, going towards and feeling the crook that lay near the ground of the creature as he quickly circled around it, ready to use it's extra length to hook the thing's neck from behind. Even with the full weight of his body, he'd have to push with his legs against the creature's back to make him yield.

Ha. Yield. In the very least take him to the ground and try to use the knife to stab through the armor.

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes
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Trista Anerwyn


The forces of both ends had considerably thinned. Trista raised her head and looked off to the side, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over her for a second or two. It definitely wasn't in her imagination, as those further off seemed to charge more aggressively than they had before, which wasn't surprising for the reapers, but for the Deadmen that was certainly something new. She might have to investigate the cause some time later. She wiped the blood from her sword, noticing that all of the remaining reapers were engaged in combat unlike the Deadmen, some of whom were already sitting down to rest in the middle of an ongoing battle. Stepping indifferently over the corpse of a Deadman that had been split vertically in half, she made a brief headcount of who had made it out so far and the totals were as expected, aside from a few anomalies.

The barbarian girl and the armored warrior were still standing, which Trista had largely anticipated, and while that in and of itself was a merit, they had also managed to rack up a formidable death count under their names. Skill was a valuable asset in a world where so many fell to death of inadequacy and she was glad to have them on her side, despite the implications likely to have arrived with the package.

And then there were the outsiders: The man with the shepherd's cane and the rogue archer. The former was currently having some trouble dealing with the released half-ogre, so she might have to lend a hand over there. As for the girl with the bow, she seemed to be in need of some triage, although that wasn't to say that the man was not. She couldn't let debts go unpaid, but there was only so much that was in her power to give, so aside from that, the most she could offer was a ride back to Gaudis in the wagons. It was a simple matter, considering that the caravans will be considerably lighter on their return trip. The vultures and scavengers can have what remained of the dead and dying.

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack
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Alexa Morrow


Alexa lowered her bow, she had run out of arrows, and the battle was nearing a conclusion anyway. She slipped the bow onto her back, the string tightly clasping her chest. She looked at her arm, the blood was still flowing, she knew she had to seal it, but didn't want to strip in the middle of a warzone to do it. Sighing, she trotted over to the dead reapers around her, she pulled the arrows from them(no sense letting them go to waste) and stopped for a moment when she got to the headless corpse of the Reaper that was to be her demise. She lifted the head up and smiled, not at the fact that he was dead, but at the memory of the woman. It wasn't an attraction per se, more of an intrigue. The woman didn't give her so much as a nod, just a cut, a slash, and off into the fray once more. She wanted to get to know this woman, her savior.

She pulled her arrow out from the Reaper's eye then tossed the head aside. Not wanting to enter another battle, she kept away from the last remnants of the fighting. She slipped two fingers into her mouth and whistled, Chevalier galloping towards her. Alexa patted his neck then moved to the saddle, mounting him swiftly, her arm stinging a bit. Taking a deep breath Chevalier walked over to the Deadmen's wagons. One of the soldiers took notice and went for the commander.

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: David Hayes Character Portrait: Eolan Kalris
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Trista Anerwyn


Trista was just about getting ready to intervene when a call from behind turned her attention away from the scene. A Deadman stood at her side, gesturing and pointing to the bow-wielding woman she had spotted earlier, who was now heading toward the wagons. Figuring that the problem would work itself out eventually, she left the three men to their own devices and began walking back, sheathing her blade and dusting off her gloved hands. As the scent of blood quickly began to fade away from her senses, she felt the wind begin to pick up, and with it the dry, bitter taste of the desert.

"Good work out there," Trista commended, looking up at the woman as she approached her. "You look like you could use a hand. We've got men on standby that can patch you up and I'm willing to offer you a ride to Gaudis if you're interested." This kind of thing didn't happen too often and she decided it was as good a time as any to display a little hospitality every now and then. "Wouldn't mind getting you a drink when we get back either. Unless you're not the drinking type, of course."

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes Character Portrait: Eolan Kalris
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Her hands shifted around the hilts of her sabres, eyes steady locked onto the battle between the giant and the two men of magic. Something inside her wanted to get in on the skirmish, but as it seemed it was already dying down that urge dwindled and disappeared. She cast her gaze about - side to side - and slid one of her swords into its scabbard, turning and heading back toward the wagons. The slaughter was done with, nothing more demanded her attention. Nothing more interested her, to be blunt. Absorbing the sight of the dead and dying littering the sand - soaked with water and blood - was the next best thing to a fight. The heavy scent of iron in the air had her lips curling softly into a smile for a few moments, her eyes sparkling at the butchered humans and reapers, both. She envied the Deadmen who'd been killed, truthfully. She hated this stiffening prison more than she could ever express in word - and not for any lack of intelligence. This abhorrence went beyond description, it could only be known by its bearer alone.

As she neared the train of covered transports, she noticed the girl from earlier.. the one she'd saved. Trista was speaking to her. Kryssis paused, her expression muddled between interest and confusion. Why had she saved this person? It wasn't as if she cared. So many had been killed by her side in the battle, and she hadn't so much as tried to help them. But she had gone out of her way to rush to this girl's aid, and she could not figure out the reason behind this act if her life depended on her. It had been a split decision, something vague- undefined. Spiritual was not the right word, because Kryssis lacked any religious side these days. Of course, beforehand the nearest interpretation of "spiritual" as far as she was personally concerned was much different than it was for most others.

Gathering herself together, the Wyvernjack's eyes darkened to indifference. This was not something she could let take root. She may be dead, but she was still herself inside. She was a warrior, forged through pain, anger, death and hardship! She cared only for herself, and involved herself with others only so far as how to hurt them the most. She sheathed her second sword and walked around one of the wagons, climbing in and laying down atop one of the benches, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes stayed open, glued to the canvas overhead.

Goddammit, it still bothered her.

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack
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Alexa Morrow


An attractive woman approached, she had an aura about her, one of strength. She complemented her and offered help and a drink. Alexa smiled a bit and responded, "Thanks, I would like not being murdered by a wayward creature on my way back to sanctuary. And I could use a drink after today."

That was when she caught a glimpse of her savior. The woman seemed permanently indifferent, as if in a constant state of apathy. She had the same expression as she did when Alexa first laid eyes on her, the unconcerned face was interesting, she was drawn to it. The woman was a mystery, an exciting mystery that Alexa intended to solve. Who was this woman? Where was she from? Why did she save her? How did she die? So many questions and no answers to speak of, all she knew was that the woman had saved her life, and she needed to speak to her. She watched her for awhile, saw her blades, studied her clothing, completely forgetting about the woman she was already talking to. She snapped back into reality when the woman crawled into a wagon, out of sight.

She shook her head slightly then looked back at the woman she was speaking with, "So... who is that beautiful woman with the fur clothing?" She wished she hadn't mentioned beautiful in there, but it was too late to stop herself at that point. She bit her bottom lip and smiled awkwardly before saying, "I'm Alexa by the way, Alexa Morrow."

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow
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Trista Anerwyn


"It's a dangerous place," she concurred. "The name's Trista." She led her to the open caravans, cupping one hand around her mouth and waving with the other: "Venir!" One of the wagons shook slightly in response and a rugged looking old man poked his head out, squinting and resting his hands over his knees. "We've got a live one here," she continued, watching him climb out the back. "Make sure she gets some treatment."

Trista turned back to her and continued the conversation while she waited for the enforcer to arrive. "The one you ask of is a new girl, came in yesterday without a pulse and now she's here, out on her first assignment. A quick word of advice for you, if you care to take it: Make sure to watch yourself around her if you're planning on getting any closer, the fiery vixen that she is."

The sound of clanking chains and metal plates grew in volume until it finally came to a halt in front of them. The man's voice was rich and deep, if a little dry, coming off as incredibly welcoming. "Quite the young flower we've got here," he smiled, holding his helmet near his chest and performing a little half-bow. He fixed it back over his head and gestured for Alexa to show her wounds. "I'd like for you to hold still a moment miss, if you would please." A hazy white light spiraled slowly around his hand, dancing around his fingertips. "I assure you, the process is entirely painless."

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Agnes Aramor Character Portrait: David Hayes Character Portrait: Eolan Kalris
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Trista Anerwyn


A reverberating scream filled the air and Trista felt her fingers twitch at the noise. Spinning around, she located the sound at its source. "Stay here," she quietly said to Venir without turning to him. "Come with me, Agnes," she said as she passed by one of the wagons. "Bring the half-ogre's keepers with you." A girl with sharp crimson hair leaped out enthusiastically, the sound of crunching sand under her feet satisfying to her ears.

"The metal man's got to be put down!" she shouted out to the two enforcers that had accompanied him in chains, walking backwards as she talked. "Make it quick!" Trista unsheathed her sword for good measure and held her shield firmly in hand, swiftly approaching the scene. Agnes rushed past her in a blinding dash, the sand kicking up in billowing waves of grains and desert smoke.

She drew back her sleeve as she ran, the runes engraved into arm glowing a brilliant red as she chanted under her breath: "Acht'ji vahk zau eras." She tackled the half-ogre plate and all, a massive wave of force crashing in after her - The surrounding area exploded upwards in a flurry of spraying sand and blood as if to force a crater into the ground below them. When the dust settled, Agnes was sitting on top of the armored beast. "Move an inch and I'll rip off your arms and legs," she whispered, though she wondered if he could even register her words.

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack
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An ungodly row reached Kryssis' ears, and she perked up in an instant. It did not sound like Deadmen fighting reapers, which was highly unlikely anyhow - unless reinforcements had arrived for their enemies, but she would have absolutely been aware of that. This was.. this was something else. She jumped out of the wagon and tromped through the sand, hands open and swaying as she walked, denoting a calm and almost peaceful state of mind. Which was very different from how she usually appeared- body tense, hands balled, eyes sharp and skittering around. The tussle between the giant had grown, with even more joining into the fray. She'd caught a glimpse of the redhead before, though she knew nothing of the girl really - even less than she knew of Trista or.. any others, for that matter.

She cocked her head to the side, nonchalantly addressing the motion of the fight- her pupils like an artist's brush. They left no lines or colors, but accentuated the existing scuffle. The masterpiece was already made, she was merely appreciating the work that lay before her. She didn't smile, she didn't look excited - she just.. watched. There was something to be said of Trista's bravery, Kryssis admitted to herself. Not even Kryssis, as battle crazy and blood-starved as she was, would fight the giant unless she wanted to die - again.. gods, she hated having to add that every time. But, there the girl was, adding herself in among the number challenging the monster's might.

Glancing to her side, Kryssis noticed that Alexa was nearby, her wounds being treated by a healer of some kind. Almost an instant later she was watching the melee below, again. Even with the strength of those Trista had gathered, Kryssis wondered if it would be enough to best the beast. It was an interesting enough prospect to not only draw her attention, but hold it as well. If they succeeded in binding the monster then it would be quite a testament to the DMD - or at least a scant few within its fold.

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes
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Alexa Morrow


Alexa hopped off her mount, she smirk and glanced over at Trista, saying, "A fiery vixen, eh? Sounds interesting."

The doctor had a welcoming countenance and tone, a very friendly aura about him, despite Alexa's tendency to be healthily paranoid, he made her feel comfortable. She began to remove her jerkin when a bloodcurdling scream resonated through the area. She was about to charge out to find out what the hell was going on, when the doctor's hand clasped against her shoulder and stopped her. Trista ran off and commanded the doctor to stay. Alexa hissed a bit before staying put, removing her jerkin and revealing her chainmail vest atop her white, sleeveless, undershirt. The chainmail jingled a bit as she tossed her jerkin atop Chevalier's saddle, watching the scene transpiring before her eyes. The massive crater in the sands that was formed by that single woman was frightening. If the enforcers were so fearsome, why need the Deadmen? She continued watching as the Doctor did his work, mending the flesh with painless magic. The resilience of the Deadmen knew no bounds, butchered and nearly cleaved in half, but still able to fight. This woman, this Trista, was impressive, to say the least.

As the scene transpired, Alexa's thoughts moved back to the woman(whose name Trista had neglected to mention), who had reappeared at this point. She caught a glance from her green eyes and felt her cheeks flush pink. Her uncaring glance was ephemeral to say the least, but Alexa focused on the fact that the woman actually looked back, as if she cared for her safety. She smiled as the doctor patched up her arm.

"All done," he said, smiling.

"Thanks," Alex responded, nodding at him.

She got up and pulled her jerkin back on, grabbing her bow and a single arrow, bodkin. She moved close to her savior, within a meter, then quickly turned around and walked in an arc around her to see the fight that was going on with the armored beast. She readied the arrow but kept the bow lowered, as she didn't want to invoke the creature's ire, seeing as she couldn't survive being cut in half, unlike Trista. It was then that the creator of the scream she had heard earlier moved back into the fray, contorting the sands to his will. Alexa didn't trust this man, something about his demeanor was off.

Alexa always trusted her instincts in regard to people, as when you get to know someone they could lie. First impressions never lie, and neither do people's movements, only their hearts and speech can lie, for that is what one should never trust.

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: David Hayes
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Trista Anerwyn


"We lost a lot of men out here so you don't have to worry about space," Trista said as she walked by him, taking the hint at his unease. "We'll put your flock in a separate wagon and close up the back. That's the other girl," she pointed to the one with the bow. "Though judging by your reaction, I'll assume that you've never met." She ushered both the shepherd and Deadmen on standby into the wagons.

"How many more times is this going to have to happen?" Venir sighed, holding up Trista's limp hand.

"You do your job, I do mine," she replied, pulling her arm from his grip. "If you'd like to take my place, I'd be more than happy to offer you a spot among us Deadmen."

"Very funny," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "The only way us enforcers could stay in the game like you guys can is by being Deadmen, and I don't take fancy to the idea of becoming a walking corpse." He patted her on the back and grinned. "Keep at it. Maybe one day you'll find a way to become completely human again."

"That kind of magic doesn't exist," she answered, despite not being sure of something like that herself. He shrugged.

"Maybe not."

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Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: David Hayes Character Portrait: Eolan Kalris
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Trista Anerwyn


The remaining Deadmen were back on the wagons, some relieved that it would be less cramped on the return trip, others worried that on the next assignment, they would be the ones to make wagons lighter. Trista sat with her hands at her sides, back hunched and eyes weary. The Deadman she had talked to on the way to the aqueduct was no longer with them, and though it wasn't a rare occurrence, it was always an uneasy one. They'd give their reports and put themselves on standby until some other disaster wound up at their doorstep. For a division of soldiers tasked with fixing problems, they could use a good deal of fixing themselves.

The wagon stopped. Trista was the first to disembark, standing by the back as she watched the rest of the men pour out. The guard captains approached the caravans to hear the details of the mission, which they would then relay to their superiors. There was no reward or compensation involved. Only a dreary wait for their next job. But until then, they were free to do as they pleased as long as they didn't cause any trouble and showed up at the outpost headquarters every morning to check in.