NOTW XXIV - The Age Of Despair (Bannor Thread)

The adept somehow still manages to keep up with the regiment running to home. She of course has the luck of not having to lug heavy armour around, but still it's an ordeal for her. As it is for the rest of the regiment.

"While I am saddened to have to condemn somebody to death - a fellow Amurite even - we cannot ignore your silence, Shadowbound. This is a task all of us have to accomplish together, and only by standing together as a regiment will we truly root out the vile beasts behind this deed."

"But I resent your implicit accusation of all of the Amurites, Archer. Do you truly think we still allow necromancy and entropic rituals in the Amurite lands after Hyborem made his bid for the world? Either way, we have to work together - whether we are Bannor, Amurite, Grigori or Kuriotate."
 
Nikki was never as well trained as the fighters, and she's having real trouble keeping the pace of the others.

I...*gasp*... I... can't we... stop... *gasp*... need... rest... bit...

She slumps down on a small rock, giving the others no chance to do anything but stop.

Just a bit... I'll be up again... shortly...... Shadowbound, if you're the monster behind this then curse you to the hells you brought Kwythellar...

She casts a very dark and determined look at the warmage, then resolutely stands up again.

Let's go, what are you all waiting for?
 
"Perhaps if your people had shown such good sense sooner, Adept, Hyborem's coming might have been delayed at least a bit longer. In any case, while the Caswallawn may have taken prudent measures to restrict those darker spells in light of the Infernal threat, I would not be at all surprised if some channelers of entropy and death had already been too far corrupted to heed his warning. I have no personal grudge against the Amurites, but you must admit that where evil magic is clearly being used, we must at least consider this sort of possibility."
 
The old man bitterly recovered himself as the people headed off, using a stick as a walking aid as he hobbled after them.

"I think now is a great time for praying." he grumbled. "May Sucellus save us all."
 
"Alas good Archer, I fear you are at least partly right. Before the Sheaim succeeded in bringing Hyborem to this world, I have heard stories that the Amurites pursued knowledge and magical power and did not particularly care about the consequences. Even while many of these darker mages often deserted the Amurites in favor of the Sheaim, the Amurite Empire is not free from blame. But Dain's recent measures against necromancy have been a turn for good, and have seen many evil mages dead.

I do not know whether the Amurites still stand proud, though. If only I could see Cevedes once again..."


She cast a hopeful look over the lands, hoping to see the high spires of Cevedes in the distance. Only dark clouds and smoke were to be seen.
 
Evening 2: Bannor

Not surprisingly, Niklas was the first who’s strength failed, for, while well trained in the “physical arts” she was not built to be a runner. The regiment settled into a manageable march, and they discussed the death of Renata.

As they crested a ridge, they felt an oppressive, hellish presence overcome them. With a cry, the Archer loosed an arrow into the sky, felling a demon that the confessor identified as a stirge.
“One of the watch dogs of hell. I fear the demons know where we are, now.”

They marched in silence as long as they could, then set to building a camp, and attending to the unpleasant matter of executing the one they deemed the murderer.

The Amurite battlemage was brought forward, and made to kneal in front of the confessor, who asked him: “do you have anything to say?”

Shadowbound looked up at him in silence.

“Well, then. May your Soul be saved in the afterlife.” With that, he brought his ceremonial sword down, lopping off his head.

Spoiler :

Shadowbound, the amurite mage, was innocent


It is Night. Any items will be voted on the next morning. (Sunday at 3ish)
 
Bannor Morning 3:

A piercing Shriek woke the Bannor regiment. As they scattered out from their tents, a rain of fire struck them down. As the Archer unleashed arrow after arrow into the sky, the others in the regiment tried to make a stand. Finally, after a grueling combat, the demon’s dispersed, leaving the regiment to tend to it’s wounded.

Spoiler :

Confessor Nictel is Injured (cannot vote for two days, unless healed)


Another shock awaited the regiment. Among the rubble and torn canvas and burning ground lay two bodies, visibly long dead. The Rationer and the Camp follower lay on opposite sides of the camp, but both bore signs of violent attacks. Their throats were cut, and demonic runes carved into their foreheads.

Spoiler :

Niklas and Lightfang are dead and Innocent.


This time, the Prior had time to perform the appropriate rites over the dead, and released their souls to Junil’s vault.

It is now day.
 
{ OOC: Um, don't you mean to say Niklas and LightFang are innocent in that spoiler? ;) }
 
The swordsman bows his head as the prayers are said over the dead. "Nikki, lass, forgive me for being so hot-tempered. I never meant anything ill to happen to you."

A single tear falls from his eye, and he turns and walks away as soon as the prayers are said, furiously wiping his eyes with his hands, mumbling, obviously still in shock: "No, not Nikki, lass, not her. Why not anyone else? Not Nikki, never her..." His mumbling slowly fades away as he reaches the outskirts of the camp and sits down, shaking his head.
 
Blood. So much blood.

Shaking his head, the Servant looks up from the bodies and glances at the rest of the group.

Sure, I'll clean this up...

But whichever of you is responsible for this mess can rest assured - I'll be leaving your corpse for the buzzards!
 
"Alas, poor LightFang and Nikki. Surely you did not deserve the grisly fate that awaited you here... at least you will be welcomed in the afterlife of Junil."

The adept briefly looked around... searching for D'Artagnan, the Grigori woman.

"D'Artagnan, could you please get over here and take a look at our good confessor? This man is hurt, he needs a medic! Please try and patch him up a bit so we might be able to get to safe lands sooner..."

She sat down, dejected. Dead people again.
 
OOC in TF2 spirit: Medic!

*Cough* *cough* Blood spattered on the rocks.
"Luckily my wounds are only those of the flesh, it could have been worse. Two more dead of our brave regiment. Such tragic deaths at the hands of these foul demons!
*cough*
Sepuku can you scout ahead to see which way is safest?
*cough* more blood splattered on the clothes of the Confessor *cough*
I need to rest."
 
How long more till we reach the Bannor homelands? At this rate, we'll all be dead in 3 days - and to do last rites every day is just too much. The Prior sighs, wishing he were in Bannor again.

Who to die now? Shall we follow the old rule of silence? 13thRonin, speak now for it is a random vote which I will change to another random who doesn't speak.
 
Later, the Swordsman returns to the others, having pulled himself together and visibly shocked. He speaks up in a serious and concerned voice. "I... Have something to say. Earlier today, Winston Hughes approached me and threatened me on my life. He told me this situation was too grave and he was now taking matters into his own hands. He told me he'd kill someone tonight, whether it would be me or someone more suspicious. He inquired about my life, possessions and soforth with the threat of killing me at night obviously hanging just over my head. Whether he does threaten in good will or in bad will, I do not care. He plans to murder someone tonight, and we cannot let that happen. I want Winston Hughes, the servant, to hang."
The swordsman looks at the others with an expression of fear painted in his face. Fear of dying.
 
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