NPC Sheet's Story

"O-Oh my! Ivan, stop worrying about pointless things... focus on getting to your destination. S-Sorry for reading your mind again..."

Myon had 'over heard' Ivan's thoughts and thus gave him her opinion. She didn't know if she could fend of 1 husk by herself, let alone several. She was pretty weakened and had also noticed her fading. She had no time to panic or feel sorry for herself, one scout had gotten a little too close.

As much as it hurt her to do so, she used more of her energy to produce a copy of herself to distract the husk. The copy intercepts the scout and attempts to stall by means of semi-possession, preventing all movement for a short time. As the copy faded, Ivan, the monkey, and Myon had gone far out of it's sight.

Then came the problem of what was ahead of the threesome, a few husks were waiting for them. They were spread out in a way that prevented the small group from going around them.

"I-I guess we go through them? You have any more magic Ivan? Or any tricks Monkey? I need time to recooperate... I used up more energy than I had... I-I'm sorry..."

Seriene sorta just stood around in her bunch of chunks of ice with the incapacitated bunny woman.
She was probably killed by something while she was at it. Being not combat focused and generally ignored y'know.
Which may or may not have resulted in bunny girls death. "I wish I'd been a paladin instead." would probably be the Draenei's dying thought.
Or maybe she just got lost. Who knows. The end.

NULL

When they’d set out for the defensive lines, all that blocked them were piles of the dead. Now, an alarmingly large number of those dead had been awoken. Their movements were not as shambling or slow as one might expect for things that suffered broken bones and missing limbs. If anything their fervor was greater than before.

Three blocked their path, each bearing the wounds of what cut them down. Flanked on either side of the leader were deformed corpses. The one on the right was cut nearly in two down the middle, it’s head resting on a lopsided torso, sliced down to the waist by the little girl’s sword. The thing on the left had a hole in its middle, like its viscera had combusted, blowing it open. They dripped down its legs, red and white and covered in mud.

The air smelled still of burning flesh from magic Ivan’s attack. Her companions were overspent, she alone could clear the way to safety.

In front was a creature almost unscathed, save for its face. Its huge pink tongue flopped against its neck and chest, its lower jaw completely missing, probably knocked clear by Tiotio’s own bo.

It charged, a huge broadsword raised to strike her.

She planted her feet wide and bent her knees. Gripping the bo in both hands, she dropped it in the mud, and pushed off, spinning around it and calling a huge gust of wind to her, larger than she’d ever successfully controlled.

Her feet landed and she brought the bo up, aiming it at the jawless thing. The air rushed down her arm, but before it reached the bo she wrenched her arm over. The force of it snapped her bone in two, but the wind traveled down the bo in a wide arc, lifting mud and debris, and taking the soldier off its feet.

It slammed into the lopsided soldier with such force that the precarious head dislodged and dropped to the mud. The two bodies lay in a crumpled heap, but before the jawless one could recover Tiotio was on top of it, driving her bo into its eye socket, down against its skull. Slamming furiously to end its unnatural life. Bone and blood, gooey and solidified, flew up, splattering her robes.

A sharp tug yanked her backwards. The soldier with dangling guts had her tail in its hands, pulling her off his fallen comrade.

“Go now!” she yelled to the others, her words devolving into an animal screech as she tried to round on her attacher.

With her broken arm Tiotio could not bring her bo around in time to block its swing, and metal bit into her back. Ignoring the pain she reached into her bag and took an acid vial, throwing it into the thing’s face. It loosed her grip on her tail and she was free.

The bo in her good arm, she struck at its neck, the wood punching clean through and out the other side.

With with little strength she had left, she made for the Nameless line.

"O-Oh my! Ivan, stop worrying about pointless things... focus on getting to your destination. S-Sorry for reading your mind again..." The ghost communed to him. "As long as you stay out of my memories and nightmares, there is no need to be sorry." He thought in the hopes it would reach the ghost.

With the scouts having been dealt with by help of the ghosts trickery. The next hurdle appeared, a blocking line of the risen husks. One of them charged at the monkey and it acrobatically countered the attack, however the sound of breaking bone made clear she hadn't done so without harming herself.

Another of the husks went at her grabbing her by the tail to drag her off it's comarade. The monkey screeched at Ivan and the ghost, the exact words he wouldn't know, but the messege was clear. Ivan ran through the now broken line, towards the defencive line of the nameless.

Another scout which had been further forward seeing if it could pick off a healer or a mage from among the nameless turned at Ivan as he saw him aproach. The husks armor and dagger were imbued with a white light, probably from the same source that had risen the dead husks.

Clutching the rats mace in one hand and his last crystal in the other he ran at the scout and slammed his open palm at the throat of the husk, abusing the gap between it's headgear and the chest piece. The crystal fell into the husks armor and incinerated the husk. However the husk had managed to slash at his striking arm in the meantime and out of the slash wound blood began to flow, the pain itself was unnoticable among the thousends of pain singals his arms were already sending.

But now finally he, the monkey and the ghost had managed to get to the rest of the nameless. Out of breath he stumbled to one of the healers at the back and dropped himself onto the ground. He would probably have to wait, there were others in worse shape than him, especially visually. One of the nameless dropped next to him and rolled up his sleeve, uncovering the wound. He quickly bandaged the wound and ran off to off to one of the healer, exchanged some words and ran to the next wounded. The healer then moved towards Ivan and began healing his wound and the internal damage. He could only assume the boy had noticed the unusuall muscle tension or in another way had noticed the damage.

Myon seemed frantic. Her body was getting more and more translucent by the minute. She was too far from her Physical body, Aera.
She feared the worse...elimination of existence. If Myon fades away Area will too. No matter where she looked, her Mistress was nowhere to be found. If she was able too, she would have broke down and cried. She didn't want to disappear, having accomplished nothing.

Aera however, was trying hard not to laugh as she bopped her ghost half on the back of the head.

"You seriously need to calm down. You really think I'd let you or I fade away? I'm not that careless."

Myon's body began to slowly become murky white as her ghostly form returned to normal. She was exhausted but Aera seemed to be full of energy. Aera had quite a few nasty injuries again, and even part of a blade stuck in her left thigh. There was no real time for an assessment as another husk drew close.

Without so much as a second thought, Aera spun 'round and smashed the husk in the side of the head with her sheath only to follow up with her fist knocking the husk to the ground. In a rather fluid motion, she unsheathed her sword and cleaved the downed husk vertically in half. Returning her sword to its sheath and the sheath to her side.

"Cheh... not so tough when their on the ground now are they?"

Qwerty, aka Experiment 'Sludgepile', was having bitter-sweet feelings about today. Considering the recent events that transpired since he, though technically he was an it, having been transported here shortly after his latest success story in the murdering business, it was definitely the strangest day he had. This was a rather impressive feat, due to him being a sentient human-shaped pile of organic sludge wearing sweatpants and clasping on a pair steel pipes as clubs. Having gone through from a sudden series of rapidly changing events, Qwerty had ended up in the thick of a grand battle, perhaps even large enough to be a small war of sorts, and was loving every minute of it. However he was immensely infuriated when he was met with the sight of various husks being resurrected from the dead, while others that were already among the living were bolstered in strength, snarling in rage and frustration at the shadowy underlings, especially those that fell by his own hand earlier.

"You got to be f***ing joking! Do you b***ards have any idea how hard it was to murder that many of them? Sure it was a right laugh, especially the fella whose head I squashed by bashing the two pipes together, but they did tons of slashes and smashes and other injuries beginning with S's on me!? Granted some of them have healed up now, that's the case with this weird healing factor junk I got, but one of them tried to chop my head off! The c**t! If there dead, leave em dead, ain't fair otherwise you cheating cowards!", Qwerty babbled furiously, having indicated to various wounds that adorned his sludgy body, including a clean stab wound through his side, a missing toe, and the previously mentioned incriminating attempt of cleaving around half way along his long snake-like neck. It was obvious he was hampered by the numerous wounds on his body, his already cumbersome speed impeded as well as his advantageous strength, and though his wounds were still healing, it was occurring at a snails pace. He wasn't ready for being in the thick of it and he begrudgingly knew it.

As the husk hoard approached, Qwerty made the shaming decision to retreat, an action he never was comfortable with, but saw it necessary as he began lumbering towards the defensive line, grumbling under his breath as the shadowy underlings were figuratively and occasionally literally nipping at his heels. He hastily battered back a few husks that got too close, desperately pushing them back with his great steel pipes he wielded as clubs, as well as spitting clumps of acidic slime, as well as adhesive slime, in an attempt to slow their numbers, still scrambling towards The Nameless and fellow competitors striving to survive.
"This just ain't f***ing fair I tell ya! reviving the dead while im heavily injured is just a wimpy loser way of a come back!" Qwerty raged to no one in particular, now at half-way to what appeared to be an iron fence that wasn't there earlier, with all sorts of combatants fighting nearby.

Pravus fought from behind the metal fence the construct had formed around them. They were at the forefront of the shadow's assault, their little structure bearing the brunt of the strongest soldiers these dark warriors had to offer: the blessed survivors. He thrust the end of his shovel at the exposed neck of one of these enhanced shadows through the gap in the various metal extrusions separating them, cutting deep through it's jugular which put it out of the fight in the long run. For now it fought on with what little time it had left to fight with.

But there were more and worse yet, they were learning from each others failures. These blessed units may not have had the years of veteran training he possesses but having survived for this long into the fight they were starting to better defend themselves, starting to exploit weaknesses in their enemies.

Even though he tried to keep them away from his metal fence, viciously stabbing at every one of them that came close, there was little he could do about the end result. The blessed shadow's hacked and beat upon the fence with their swords, pressing against it with their shields as the prongs chipped and bent. The spikes brought forth by the construct were quite sharp but rather thin, not designed to properly repel an enemy force's full on assault. Even a solid spiked garrison would fall in these circumstances however as the only ones defending it in particular were him and it's maker.


Looking back towards the nameless he saw the main defense line had been pushed back, the blessed warriors who weren't concerning themselves with the two of them had swarmed around the spiked road block to engage the line with their best and brightest. In his distraction Pravus felt a blade come through an opening in the fence and pierce through his armor in the lower left torso, just above the hips. A shocking sensation struck him as he felt the magic of their blades bring about a long forgotten feeling: Pain. The holy energy in the blade served to dredge about an old sense as old and seemingly distant as his other memories, jolted forward into the present by the all too familiar sting. As the blade drew from his side the pain lingered as a real wounds suffering would. He grunted, falling back from the side he was injured from before regaining his composure.

Despite the pain he fought through it, forcing himself to fight on regardless of injury. Lowering the grip on his weapon he gave himself a longer reach with the head of his shovel. He brought it high above his head and feigned to strike a separate enhanced shadow before twisting around mid motion and bringing the edge of his shovel down upon the arm which previously held the blade that had wounded him so, leaving a blessed shadow warrior wandering about the battlefield clutching only a shield.


Despite Pravus's efforts, felling a good number of these divinely blessed shadow fighters, the fencing around them was about to collapse, inviting the remaining survivors to flood on in once it yields. He knew he'd need to fight his way back to the line should that occur but with the weapons being enchanted in the matter they were he stood a very good chance at being cut down upon trying to bypass the shadows which had opted to go around them and engage the Nameless's lines directly. He braced himself, standing next to the metallic humanoid as prepared as he was ever going to be at this time.

The beginning of the end, the end of the beginning.

---

It was with a bang, and not a whimper, that a new being arrived to the field of battle. His stitched and scraggly top hat perching perfectly atop his head and a mask that hid his features jolting slightly as he thumped into the ground just ahead of The Nameless defensive line gracefully. His limbs not reacting to the fall he had partaken of from the outer edges of this material plane as he strode forward with the tapping of a cane held loosely in one gloved hand, it was mere moments after he landed that the entire ground upon his landing point was eviscerated along with the husks that had arrived. A cavernous hole created and flooding with the sands slowly as he proceeded to walk towards the main combat and its participants, a husk with glowing blade leaped towards him, and was swiftly met with an elbow to the jaw that surely would have sent the creature flying. Had there been any creature left to move, however instead the man lowered his elbow and continued walking with the world perpetually slowed around him.

He eventually arrived at his destination and removed his top hat and mask, propping them upon his cane which he lodged into the ground at the centre of the battlefield. However despite his entirely uncovered features no matter what way you looked at him, it was obvious he had a face and head, features like any other being, yet none could be seen and nothing was truly visible. Not even an out-line of hair, and yet it was certain he was not bald, his teeth and glowing red eyes were visible however, both horrifyingly sharp and equally able to rend flesh from bone. However it was with presentation of these teeth in an impossible grin as he removed and began the placement of these objects which began the beginning of the end, a strange dark aura manifesting in reality behind him, he kicked the cane up from the ground and allowed it to fly carelessly into the battlefield with his personal affects, and began his work.

---

---

He first launched himself into the nearest armoured husk, leaping into the air and slamming a knee into its skull, a hand reaching behind it to grasp its ally to use its own head as a pivotal point, a point he used to spin his body in a hurricane of kicks that crashed through husks and sent waves of wind that tore through rows of their brethren beyond the initial point. Upon landing he flashed far across the battle field and planted his footing solidly upon the sands, an open palm and rigid fingers meeting a husks spine as the momentum of his travel passed into it with full force, along with several thousand volts of electricity that chained across the immediate area, his eyes met a group fleeing to the back line, a monkey woman receiving the full penetrating gaze he laid upon the collective group.

He continued to flash all across the battlefield, elbows, knees, fists and palms colliding with husks at a rapid pace in dozens of fighting styles. Each impact shaking the entire battlefield or passing some form of power along through the enemy lines until eventually mere seconds after his arrival half of the enemies remaining forces had been wiped out, he finished off one more blessed husk with a flipping kick that left him sailing through the air in the opposite direction to its skull. It was with a light thump then that his top hat returned to his head and the mask landed perfectly in his coat pocket, the cane spinning and landing in his out-stretched hand as he floated above the remaining fighters.

With a graceful spin he landed upon the ground and brought two hands together, a clap ringing out that silenced all other noise as the man, or perhaps the creature ,placed its hands swiftly upon the ground, a dark energy flowing through its finger tips for a moment before it stood. Corrected its top hat and its tie and deftly stepped out of the way of a fountain of blood to its left, one that was simultaneous across the battlefield as the remaining army erupted into a fountain of gore and destroyed armour. An eruption that was followed by a shock-wave of shaking earth and immensely strong wind that threatened to blow away those who were uncharacteristically weak. The silence that had flooded the battlefield finally lifting with a roar of noise.

It was with this final hurrah that the man dissipated entirely, a piece of parchment floating down to a certain marble skinned Incubus bait within the field, containing a name of an inn, and the blood enscribed symbol that almost whispered its own name "Apocalys". In the distance atop the hill which all this had begun, the retreating head of a temple like Golem could be seen, the Grasslands clear of all its hostile life.

Null

((NULL))

Tiotio paid no mind to the sounds behind her. Her attention was on the wounds on her arm. The bone was still broken, but the burns were closing thanks to healing magic that twisted around her arm, white tendrils that wove in and out of each wound.

She assumed the huge noise signaled the entrance of the mountainous creature into the battle. It was a shame, it seemed for a moment like they might survive.

It was actually the lack of sound that caused her to turn. If she was right that the mountain was hewing a path through the field, there should have been more - more crashes, more screams. Instead there was something of a silence falling over the field, heads turned to watch whatever was happening.

Her bo rested in her coiled tail, and as she turned she reached for it, fearing she would need to fly into battle again. Her hands stopped on the wood, but did not lift it.

A lone figure moved at impossible speeds, taking down risen corpses, and those who had been given unnatural energy. She could not fix her eyes on any feature of the man, they slid past like liquid.

A charge rushed out of him, bolts tearing through the figures all around him. The air still light with electricity, he lifted his eyes to their fleeing line. For that moment he completely ignored the enemy, his gaze as sharp from across the field as it would be inches from her face.

His eyes gave her only a glimpse of the true being within. Cold gripped her chest, even as blood rushed through to head, her mind trying to process all she’d truly seen in those eyes.

The moment passed and the man fought on, making obvious just how simple the work that had nearly killed her and her allies was for him.

As quickly as it had started, it was over, and the man gone. In the absence of battle the field seemed almost obscene, exposed. The fighting had left a scar on the land much deeper than anything physical.

The healer had done an outstanding job, Ivan's wound gone as was the pain in his arms. Which meant it was about time for him to stop sitting around and being usefull. He stood up and saw a man as untangible as night, yet very clearly there. His eyes could barely follow the movements of the man, even from this distance, as he gracefully slaughtered the husks with great speed and a multitude of differently styled strikes. He realised that if the man unsatisfied by the slaughter of the husks were to turn on them they wouldn't stand a chance. On the distant hill he saw the golem was slowly turning around and moving away, it seemed that the enemy was no longer interrested in prolonging the fight.

Only moments later the man dissapeared almost making it seem as if the husks had simply collapsed in on themselves rather than being beaten in such a rapid succession and the man had simply been an illusion. Whether he was or not didn't matter, it had turned this almost hopeless battle into a technical victory. The enemy had retreated and they still had people standing, however the price had been high many were dead and even more wounded. The slain husks, probably mere minnions of which there are thousands more just waiting to sotrm out of the woodworks. The only thing they had gained was some experience in battle, and the rats mace, nothing worth even one lives lost in this battle.

Ivan picked up the mace from next to him and looked at the vile green glowing macehead. The masked man had tasked him with sucking it dry, and he hadn't even done this much yet. There are better ways to make use of it than to simply siphon out all of it's energy, and with the battle over there is no need for him to siphon the energy. If only the damn thing wasn't so massive, if he somehow could break off that handle it would be easier to manage. He grabbed the bottom of the mace, laid the head on the ground and began kicking the mace. However he didn't make the thick wooden handle budge, he wasn't nearly strong enough to cause any damage to the handle. Hopefully he could find someone who might be able to break the handle.

He was preparing for the metal fences inevitable failure when an enigmatic character presented itself upon the field. A strange figure in well worn clothing adorned with a patchwork top hat and a mask which obscured it's features crashed into the melee, scattering many of the enemy shadows in it's wake or so he saw from his position.

After the dynamic entry Pravus wasn't entirely able to see the whole event. He caught several glimpses of the strange figure, now hatless and without it's mask, running about punching and kicking wildly at the many shadows. He could tell significant damage was being done to the enemy forces from the occasional sights of the enemy warriors being knocked through the air. After some time the stranger recalled it's belongings as it used some form of magic to stand suspended in the air as though it were earth beneath it.

When the figure descended he could not see what it did but it's effects were clear enough. There was a sudden silence that drowned out all other sounds on the field. The remaining enemy forces all exploded in a gory mess followed by a massive blast of wind. He held his ground as the wind hit, refusing to topple under the air's rush.

After that the figure was all but gone with little left but dead bodies and a small piece of paper which flitted it's way over towards the incubus. He looked around to see there was no more combat underway, only the dead and those who he had fought for if for no other reason than to survive this battle. He noticed that in the wind blast had knocked his hat off but luckily it had caught on one of the metal spikes. He simply walked over and took his hat off of the sharp metal protrusion, setting it back on his head.

He stepped over to a space in the wall where the various metal blades were beaten and bent. There was a narrow gap the now dead shadows had made in it. Keeping careful mind not to catch himself on any of the sharp points or edges he climbed through the opening and over some dead bodies which had been trodden on and pushed up against the base of the fence by the feet of the previous blessed attackers.

Over the hill the head of the golem could be seen disappearing as the remaining lieutenants left the scene of the battle. Looking down the field was a mess. The magic used by the stranger had killed the remaining shadows in such a way that made them unburiable. On top of that many of them were destroyed by the many magics used during the battle. He was not opposed to the use of magic in warfare but the stranger's parting spell was gratuitous in Pravus's own opinion. He was not pleased to say the least.

He made his way around the bodies, searching for an open space of ground ideal for burying them. With his shovel resting upon his main fighting hand's shoulder he strode up to the top of the hill and looked out towards the direction the golem and remaining lieutenants had retreated towards, searching the landscape for any signs before he'd resume his solemn duty as a Grave Tender.

Ivan watched as the assumable leader of the nameless spread a tapestry and picked up the rabbit that had led the 'game' before everything got out of controll. The battlefield began to glow as his senses faded to his new location. The rats mace still in hand he found himself together with everyone else on that battlefield in an worn down mansion. The presumed leader lifted his hand and the mansion shut in on them. Windows and doors slammed shut, and the sense of arcane energy under the flooring made it clear to Ivan that even from below the place was shut. The man moved on to comfort the younger ones. Ivan wanted to help him, but he knew that a stranger with an heavy armament wouldn't be much of a reassurance, nor did he want to want to reassure them with words he'll have to eat later.

The nameless vacated the room under the guidance of the man, you could feel the sadness in the air. To Ivan it felt just like the day they were all forced out of Thylysium, battered and beaten the survivors had made it out of that place and even then they had to continue on fighting. He was his own broken smile in the man as he reassured the children and teenagers as they had lost their parents, just like how Ivan had done on that day and the week thereafter.

After the nameless had left the mans smile turned into an angered frown, in fact his very likeness seemed to change. As if he was being pushed forwards in age with years passing every second, untill he stood there bearded and grey haired. He crossed his arms and looked at the group. It seemed that they had done something very bad, but beyond ignoring the rabbit Ivan couldn't think of anything that they had done wrong, and even that didn't seem as something wrong.

"You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves. The same offer from the recruitment stands, but only for those who are useful for more then just hitting, their is no room for cannons in a game of survival and I need people who can do more then just fight, people who have the right morals." The man said a growl as he picked at something stuck piercing his torso. He then followed up by saying: "Temporary lodgings are up the stairs and to the left, you each get a room to share with a person of your choice, choose wisely. Tomorrow morning once we've made sure we are under no further threat I will come to your rooms and each pair will individually explain their reasoning and justify why I should trust them with my people and to represent them in further guild games. If you make the cut I'll De-brief you and bring you up to speed on everything that's going on, and what exactly this world is, if you don't its the same deal as the recruitment. You go home. A certain red headed demon is resting in the farthest room facing the front of the building, those who require healing will find their lodgings sufficiently enhanced by magic for their particular needs."

The stairs split in half making way for the man to take his leave and returned back to normal as the man silently spoke his thanks with a smile. "I don't exaclty know what to make of him. His heart is definatly in the right place, his words are sincere and he seems like a good leader overall. But I am not too keen on him holding back so much vital information, especially with the chance of another attack present. Well, he is gone now, so I might as well make due with what I have. Just like before. Now to find someone willing to share lodging with me..."

The battlefield was gone, and now they were in a house, a huge house. The posture of the Nameless spoke of rest, of safety. They felt comfortable in this place, even if the horror of the battle still lingered in their minds. Tiotio allowed herself to feel the same comfort, her body weary, longing for rest.

The leader walked among his people, his care and devotion to his followers obvious.

As she relaxed, Tiotio felt an animal instinct to retreat to somewhere isolated. To tend her wounds in a quiet place without being observed. She lept up and over heads, clammered up a large bookcase, and sprang out to a chandelier. She always felt safer at a height, looking down at the scene rather than taking part in it.

The chandelier swayed back and forth as she settled, resting her bo across her lap and watching down at the crowd below.

"You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves.” The leader continued, explaining they might still be allowed to join the Nameless, and that they would be given lodging for the night. When he was done he exited into a gap that closed behind him.

Tiotio considered his words as she studied the great hall they were in. Did she truly want to join the Nameless? It had not been her goal, simple knowledge was her goal, and she’d gained that. The Nameless where powerful, but few, and they faced great enemies. Without the intervention of outside aid, as in the battle, it seemed the Nameless might not be around very much longer.

The hall spoke of former glory, lost now to neglect. Cracks in the masonry were filled with dust. Webs covered most high surfaces, including the chandelier; white threads of it clung to her fur as angry spiders worked around her to fix the damage she’d done to their webs.

The man had mentioned the guild games, another topic she longed to know more about. She might gain the most knowledge about such things as a participant, and she might find no better chance to do that than with the Nameless.

Though she would have preferred to stay perched high in the chandelier all night, the mention of magics that might ease her body enticing. Below her people mingled now, uneasily, trying to find a companion to share a room with.

She dropped straight down, landing hard in the midst of the others, some staggering back in surprise. She spotted those who’d fought with her in the field, the little girl with the sword, magic Ivan, the beak masked-man, still caked in mud from their struggled against the rat.

It was appealing to approach one of them, but she longed to learn about those she’d not yet met. Her curiosity pulled her toward a strange figure who looked if anything, slightly bored at their surroundings. She was an imposing looking woman, with vibrant red eyes and white hair. Her skin was even more pale than her long hair, like she might have been carved out of a fresh snowbank.

Tiotio looked up at her, “Do you plan to stay? We might share a room if you do.”

Pravus was ascending the hill from which the enemy had retreated from. As he climbed higher along the path to see where they were going off to something happened. He only managed to turn just in time to see the leader of this rag tag group of entities lay down a rather large rune inscribed on some form of cloth. This wouldn't of garnered even a fraction of his interest at that moment as he still had his duty to maintain if it were not for the light that enveloped the battlefield. Without warning Pravus was abducted from the scene of the battle.

---

Standing in the old halls of a luxurious mansion he peered from his marred mask, scanning his surroundings.
Is this another test? His mind kept it's battle ready edge keen for more challenges. Pravus wouldn't of been overjoyed but he would not of felt upset had this change been another trap sprung on him to fight through. What he got instead was the supposed leader who had yet to even introduce himself milling about the mildly crowded foyer with people who were not present at the battle. Pravus was no fool. It dawned on him quite quickly that this was not another challenge at all but a stop, an end to which the nameless leader yanked him to without his consent.

This figure went about consoling the residents as a shepherd tends to his flock. He felt no warmth in his heart for this so called kindness the leader had expressed to their own and his opinion of the man changed not. He listened as the man turned from his herd and faced the warriors from the battle they fought for him. This man shifted his appearance to give him a more veteran appearance before he spoke, a rather unimpressive magical ability as it is a familiar effect from his own society prior to it's gruesome downfall.


He listened to the man's words carefully as he spoke. He was ordinarily grim but this man had done something that displeased him greatly. Those who died on that battlefield were simply left to rot while the living got to rest, magic tending their needs like busy maids while this man struts about pretending to be a fatherly host. Because of what their leader did he was not able to bury those who died and give them their funeral rites. Almost anything else the nameless leader could of done would of been inoffensive but directly interfering with his duty was a direct offense to him. The grim dead had become graver.

Ordinarily this would be the point where he would of simply left these people to their fates and gone on back to bury the dead back at the battlefield but he was a careful listener. When the leader here said he would send them home he knew exactly what the man meant. Back home, back to Tiatha, back to Sed. There he still had to finish burying the rest of his people but even if he were bury them all he would need to come bury those that died at the battlefield as well. He could not omit a single person from this, to do so would mean failure on his behalf and he could not afford to fail his father again.

Despite that though he knew there would be some serious challenges with finding his way back to this realm. If he was to have any chance of returning to the field where all those who died at that battle still lay then he would need to remain here, at least for now. As much as the idea of proving himself to this two-faced shepherd felt wrong like the sensation of having one's thumbs trapped in thumbscrews he had little to no choice but to convince this man that he was needed here.


Lowering his head he turned his thoughts from this unpleasant predicament towards other concerns. He was rather damaged from the battle, most of his gear broken save for his trusty family shovel still firmly held in his hand but his first thoughts were not of himself but of the spirit he encountered during the battle. She and her living counterpart were of the most relevant interest to him for he was sworn to serve the needs of each spirit so that they may pass safely and comfortably into the afterlife. He would need to learn of how this girl managed to separate her spirit and remain active as soon as possible though. If the girl's spirit was torn from her body by dark magic against it's will or perhaps if it was simply the girls greed, forcing her own spirit to serve her, then he would be forced to release the spirit so it could pass on into it's designated afterlife freely. Other than that he would tend to it's needs until it is ready and able to move on from this world to the afterlife
of it's own belief.


He walked over to the swordswoman and her spirit, addressing Myon as he arrived within casual talking distance.
"Hello Myon. It is good to finally meet you under less hurried circumstances. I have been hoping to speak with both of you but the battle demanded my attention at the time. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier." He politely greeted them both, the spirit a bit more than the body as he is more familiar with Myon and he finds himself more comfortable speaking with fellow undead such as spirits and other reanimated entities capable of civility and conversation. Even though he was rather bitter about the current situation he found some comfort in the opportunity to speak with Myon freely now.

"My name is Pravus. It is a pleasure to meet you." He removed his blood stained mud caked glove and extended a rather clean but somewhat damaged hand to shake. Though she may be a spirit if she were to shake his hand she would find it just as solid as though her form was solid as well.

Qwerty was still trying to wrap his head head around what just happened to the army of husks that were just here. Just as he was being over run, barely able to scrape a futile attempt to defend himself as he was covered in multiple wounds from the relentless shadowy minions, and despite his regenerative abilities, each healed wound was replaced with three more, the husks were suddenly being pulverized. Before the sludge monsters eyes, husks were battered, pummeled, beaten, crushed, and annihilated left right and center, the cause a mere blur as he wiped out the enemy forces, those attacking Qwerty included. As he scrambled towards the defensive line in a panic, Qwerty managed to catch a glimpse of the one responsible, a strange man with no facial features apart from red glowing eyes and a grin made of sharp pointed teeth, dressed in a fine suit and disappeared as soon a she arrived when retrieved a cane and top hat.
"Who the f*** was that? And how did that ba**** move so fast? It was him right? S***!", Qwerty snarled out to no-one in particular as he then slumped onto the ground in a mixture of exhaustion, being weighed down from his slowly healing injuries and frustration. In truth, he was relieved that the stranger had decimated the husks, but he was infuriated his lack of ability to have done it himself, especially by someone much smaller than he. After all, what use was a battle crazed monster that couldn't finish battles?

This question that was swimming around Experiment Sludgepile's head had no time to be answered, as it was replaced with thoughts of utter bafflement on his sense fading when a great flash of light occurred, replacing their surroundings with an aging but grand mansion, placing the members of The Nameless and the competitors that stayed in what seemed to have been quite exquisite and opulent, until time had done it's damage. Qwerty would have more time to enjoy this mansion as the widows and doors suddenly slammed shut, leaving him all the more confused but still immobile as he slowly healed, his puzzlement lowering bit by bit as he watched the Nameless comfort each-other, guild leader included, showing little concern for them as he swore under his breath at his injuries.
"Guess it was some magic stuff again, sure seems to be a lot more in the norm around these parts. Wherever that is.", he grumbled before his scowl changed to a slight grin as he found his leg was now functioning as normal, though the other was still dangling about from being hacked at. His expression reverted back to of disdain however, as he noted the through injuries from those husks beside his leg. His left arm was barely hanging on, his shoulder almost entirely cleaved through, while the other was still with a gaping hole at his elbow, while his chest and snakeish neck were littered with slashes, cuts, dents, and all sorts of wounds. Qwerty was lucky to be a pile of sentient plasmophlemge, he would of been very dead indeed otherwise, and he knew it.

"Great, more bloody hocus-pocus.", Qwerty then proceeded to complain as the guild leader slowly shifted into an older appearance, after his guild members had left the room, his smile replaced with a face of anger. Qwerty listened to his words with unusual worry until the powerful man left, via even more 'hocus-pocus' having split the wooden stairs in half as he wandered away through a gap he had made for himself, before the stairs came back together, shutting behind him.
Though the guild games sounded as if they held much promise of future violence for Qwerty, the slime based behemoth knew he had little other talents than combat, let alone morals that this group that mourned the dead and had genuine care for each other. He would have to lie his way in. He wasn't going to let the chance promised to him as he was transported into these lands slip away.

Qwerty now was left with a different predicament however; he would have to share lodgings. It was something he greatly un-accustomed to, often being given his own room due to his girth. He peered around at the other remaining competitors, fully confident that none of them would try to kill him in his sleep. Anyways, he could just return the favor and eat them while they were asleep. Qwerty sighed as he propped himself up clumsily, with his pair of pipes used as crutches, and sat up, before blabbing moodily; "Alright then, how the f*** are you lot? I'm Qwerty, may have heard of me, mercenary fella, made of plasmophlemge, good at hitting things with pipes. You ba****ds on the other hand I don't know anything about. Anyhow who wants to share a room? As long as you don't use some weird magic sh** when i'm sleeping"

"That looks like a problem... Do you need help with anything? I can't fix the armor but I could maybe help with the injuries..."

Myon looked at the damage which had been done to him and suddenly flew over to a now sleeping Aera. Noting the still present knife blade in the thigh, she panicked. Jumping to the worst possible conclusion, that it would get badly infected and then lose the leg entirely.

Frantically flying about, she accidentally flew into a wall with....no sound at all as she flew through it. Much to her surprise she ended up in between the wall, unable to pass through what is behind it. She tried reentering her and Pravus' room but couldn't find it as she was lost.

"Oh no.....Who is going to believe this one? A phantom getting stuck in a wall. As if I have not caused enough problems, now there is going to be complaints about a phantom making noise in the wall. Why can't I fly through it?? I-It's so dark a-and scary.... Help me please!?"

She continued her cry for help which was muffled to anybody not inside the wall. To make things worse, she was flying around the building, passing by or through the rooms by the dark corridors which were the inside of the walls. Her cries must have disturbed a lot of people and she hoped nobody would be mad as she continued to look for a wall she could pass through. Perhaps the same energy which allowed her to take physical form is also preventing her from using her spectral form's ghostly abilities? Not that it mattered, all that really mattered was for her to get out of the walls before somebody punches a hole in one to shut her up.

(Null))