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I awoke no more than an hour later, cursing myself for being so careless. I have been following a man for 5 days towards the camp of a man known as Francis Brummette. He had sent out invitations to many established warriors throughout the world. He was going to raise an army against the Underworld. I had not received an invitation, but I had to go. A few months ago, those I love had been taken by the Underworld's Army. Alexia, and my 3 younger siblings. I had to get them back. So, traveling to where I heard it might be, I found a man boasting about being "the greatest warrior of them all!" and I followed him towards the camp. It's been five days since then, and the camp is in sight. I decided to wait awhile until the man was inside before going down.
It was dark, I had fallen asleep again. Gah! I strapped on my sword and quiver and made for the camp. I walked towards it, the moonlight almost fully blinding me, but I kept my eyes fixed on the torches burning throughout the camp. I quickened my pace, anxious to get there. I arrived at the entrance where 6 men with steel armor and spears stood guardian. "Show me your invitation please" said the man who looked to be the leader; he had his armor engraved and carried a long sword instead of a spear. "I do not have one, but please let me speak with Francis." I said calmly. "Go home boy. You're too young for war." he told me. I grabbed him by his armor as the guards closed in around me. "I have no home to go back to. My home has been destroyed and the people I love killed or taken prisoner. Now let me in, or I'll kill each one of you to get in myself!" I could feel my body heating up. No, not now. Please not now. "Uh...uh...you....you can go in" the guard said. "My thanks." I replied with a smile.
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"Our enemy closed off and killed most of the messengers Francis," Another man spoke, "we haven't heard from them in the longest time and only a few warriors are here."
"Which few?" The large man asked, anxious to hear the list.
"We have Danguroo from the West tribes, Westwald from the Castle of Rensong and the war hero Fero." Another councilor read from a paper.
Francis stood in silence and began to rub his head, "Nothing from Yuni?"
"Nothing sir," the first spoke, "Nothing at all..."
Francis' rampage subsided and was filled with worry and concern. He looked down at a large map of the land and ran his fingers over it. "We have vampires attacking from the north, wares at the east, demonic bloodsuckers to the west and south east as well as Ogres coming from the northwest and we only have three of our original heroes?" He looked up at the three men who avoided eye contact. "Grand... just fucking peachy..." he whispered and looked back down at the map, running his fingers over the new battle plans he was hatching in his head.
"Sir!" A guard ran in, panting, "a man demands to speak to you!"
"Tell him I'm busy!" Francis screamed back.
"But sir, he's desperate to join..." the guard tried to argue.
"We don't need fool hearted warriors! We need heroes!" He picked up a glass and threw it at the guard, shattering it near his head.
"But sir! He... he lost his family..." the guard spoke, now halfway out of the tent in case he threw something else.
Francis looked down at the map and was panting lightly, feeling the stress start to build up. His large shoulders went up and down with each large breath, thinking hard. He didn't need someone messing up all of his plans, but he didn't have too many options... and his family was gone now... he knew exactly how that felt. Everything was weighing in his head.
"Sir...?" The guard spoke up, "What say yo-.."
"Bring him in..." Francis said, glancing over at the guard and turning back around to look at he map once more.
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The large man sighed and shook his head, "Rise me boy-o, rise..." he didn't like accepting a man like him into the ranks, but didn't want to jump to conclusions. "Can you hold a sword?"
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Ghost opened the letter that arrived by homing pigeon (also known as Carrier Pigeon) several weeks ago with the location. Fool. Ghost believed this Francis Brummette to be a fool to carelessly give out the location of the camps site, but desperate times call for desperate measures. At least that's what Ghost tried to convince himself of. Howling behind him turned his attention away from the letter. Ghost closed his eyes to concentrate on the parasite arm and felt them. 100 yards and closing. Lycanthropes. Shit. Ghost hates lycanthropes because of their sense of smell, since they were among the hardest to fool and easiest to be found when moving through their patrols.
"Horse, you'll have to meet me there. CAMP!" and Ghost hit the horse on the romp, sending it hurling down the overgrown path towards the settlement of humans half a league away. He just hoped it made it, horses were hard to come by since they fed much more than a measly human.
Ghost, the Pale Rider, turned towards the hard, long, quick steps of the lycanthropes. Wolves. Wolves have among the best sense of smell, much more keen than the wererats, cats or birds. Ghost drew his high silver-concentrated sword. Silver is a purifier and if it wasn't for his masters Pure-White attire and demand for silver in his out-fittings and weapons Ghost wouldn't have survived this long. The sword is a classical kite shape, wide base and narrow to a piercing point with a cross-guard tilted upward. The blade itself gleamed well polished with many scratches and gouges but sharpening kept it well tuned. "Bleed for us!" Ghost shouted at the 3 werewolves as they leaped over brush and through trees into the small clearing that Ghost waited for them in.
Ghost wished he had his plate armour on, not this measly chain mail and leather he was traveling in. The chain mail didn't clink together because of the rubbery wax coating he rubbed onto it, it just had to come off or it would rust the chain.
The first werewolf, jet black, in halfman halfwolf leaped past Ghost, racking nail across his kite shield in a fly of sparks. Ghost countered the next one, with a slash across its abdomen while it leaped to clobber the lone swordsman while he fought off the passerby werewolf. The airborne werewolf, grey, landed in a jumble and worked its way to its feet. The third werewolf, grey with black stripes, blocked Ghosts advance on the fallen werewolf.
The wolves began circling Ghost, sniffing the air. Ghost fought off the gorilla tactics of the werewolves. His arm was beginning to buzz, similar to a running current. The wolves growled before resuming their tac.
Ghost feinted a thrust and turned it into a diagonal slash, ripping a wound from thigh to shoulder on the black wolf, spewing its intestines and bowels onto the ground, the black-grey wolf took the opening and came face-to-face with Ghosts kite shield, stunning the beast before the blade entered below its chin and exited through the skull. The other wolf growled, it's glowing eyes sinking into the forest, watching Ghost all while. The bruises would fade much like the immediate sense of danger, but it was always there, it never went away. Ghost wiped his blade on his tunic after decapitating the werewolves and they transformed into their human hosts body.
"Halt! the guardsmen at the front gate held crossbows level with Ghosts chest, he saw his steed past them in the stalls, a boy and girl were tending the horse. Ghost furrowed his brows. Horse likes children? "Papers, leave, or be shot." The guards looked on edge, Ghost saw their fingers twitching by the bar to release the bolt that would thud into the chain mail.
Ghost lifted the cloak out of his way and retrieved the envelop and held it out to one of the guards to pass it to their commander. "T-The Pale Rider!" Ghost nodded towards his white horse being brushed by the children. "Sire, you've been expected, please follow this gentleman while I inform Burmmette of your arrival." The leader of the guards hurried off, probably because he wanted the good news credit rather than letting his underlings get it. Ghost looked behind him. Probably because he's afraid. Ghost followed the guardsman into the camp and looked around. The place reeked of sorrow and despair.
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He continued to talk until he saw the pale man guarded by some of his warriors. "I'll take it from here men," he said, "you are dismissed." He saw the men leave and looked over at his arm, "I hear you have an interesting dysfunction... is it true?"
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"Lexes! Finish cleaning the stalls out or so help me!" The children laughed at Lexes. A burly man rounded the corner of one of the stalls and walked forward to greet Lord Edward and Squire Lewis, "they're good kids," he said, "but no discipline," the smile and fatherly affection showed.
"It's good to see you again, Döllan, this is a fine horse you bred here," Lord Edward patted Snowflake's ubharnised back. Döllan grinned ear to ear. He is one of the finest breeders and trainers of the Western Coast, but a humble man he is not, nor does he brag; confident, just confident. Lewis smiled at the children as they led the pure dove-white horse into the stall to begin brushing her.
"My Lord, prince Arthür is waiting for you in the courtyard for sparring. Will squire Lewis be accompanying you?"
"No, he has a--"
"-defender of justice even though he's had some bad history." Ghost blinked at the stalls and the two dirty children playing with Horse, feeding him bits of apple.
"Lord Ghost?" The captain inquired, looking at him puzzle-eyed.
"Just Ghost, captain. What can I do for you?"
"Would you like some coffee? It will warm weary bones." The captain has burn marks across the lower section of his face and one eye was milky.
Ghost, the Pale Rider, watched the intruder approach from the reflection in the guards helmet, he foot taller than himself, red beard and bellowing orders. /Lord Burmmette, no doubt./ "Thank you, captain Ross, for the warm drink," Ghost said to the departing captain with his men. Ghost turned to give Red Beard a look over before he spotted the youth beside him . /A servant? No, too dirty. Definitely not a scholar. Useless./ "I hear you have an interesting dysfunction... Is it true?" Ghost walked up to Lord Burmmette and offered his hand. Many men ward Ghost off as a boogeyman for his eerie appearance, others believe the horror stories.
"Lord Burmmette, I presume? Mind if we walk? I would like to take a look around." Ghost began walking, taking the whole camp into account but keeping the barrier to the wilderness nearby. The main reason for making a round around the inner perimeter is to check how many daemons lurked outside this beacon of civilization.
"It's nostalgic," Ghost muttered out loud. There were small gatherings of broken families, around fire pits and large tents. /There is no more love in this world. Nonthing worth saving anymore./ Those thoughts echoed the parasites too closely for comfort.
(OOC-- "/" means italic. I am on my phone typing this which makes this harder as well as longer to type. My last post which had the italic code didn't register it, so I thought this forum couldn't use it. Long storey short: found out just now I can.-OOCzu
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He could not stop thinking about where he was and how he got there. He was a soldier now. He couldn't act like some awestruck boy. He was going to be fighting side by side with heroes, and maybe become one himself. Only time will tell. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come, but tonight...it would not. "Get you'selves re'ey lads! We're un'er attack!"
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