When seeing people enter the room, the man lazily gets to his feet to greet them. "Hey there, you forgot me.” He says with a broad grin, “I’m Mo.” While approaching, he eyes everyone and their equipment. “So, what did I miss?” Mo asks keeping his smile, “Ten of us to save the world? Interesting . . . ”

As Mo gets closer he looks up at Willow with amazement “Hullo.” and continue on to greet the others. “What an interesting bunch of people? A giant girl, a man in an iron mask, a dwarf, an elf and a scary bandaged girl.” Mo thinks to himself. “I’m going to fit right in!”
(After finding out what happened and finding he will need a Ghost touch weapon and armour)

Mortimer strolls over to the armoury to purchase a Ghost touch Greatsword and Breastplate, he takes his great sword and puts it into the brown bag that is tied to his belt. He then takes off his breastplate to reveal, a broad man and a dirty white shirt. Mo then straps on the Magical Breastplate. “So, what now?”

Dusk dismounted from his shaking mare onto equally strained legs, taking a long glance back in the direction of the hovering Linsempti. The four Aqinarrans and their mounts were far behind them and most likely dead or soon to be. There was nothing to be done for them besides moving ahead with the information they had to take back to the council at Wanqir.

The silence in the area is apparent to the elf, even if he has long since abandoned the practices of the woodland elves. It seemed that even the earth itself knew that something dreadful and dangerous now tread upon its surface. The humans decided that the danger had since passed from the creatures that came from the Mt. Venerro and to rest the remainder of the night rather than try and continue straight to the city. Dusk only nodded and began to walk down his horse so he could ride it the next day.

Only the Scout remained to watch over them as the humans, dwarf and Xira slept through the night. Dusk rested long enough to feel refreshed but soon woke and sat near the centre of the camp, going over the fight with the Linsemptus creatures in his head, again. How many would stay in this fight now? How many would simply give in to whatever terms these creatures offered? Would they offer any? What in the name of the Gods were they to begin with?

____________


It was well into the night by the time they had reached Wanqir but still they made haste for the citadel. It had been a hard ride and still there was work to be done.

Dusk watched Mitsuru, Akihiko and the Scout disappear beyond double doors to explain their losses to the council. The others began to shuffle about, perhaps still stunned by the deaths.

Dusk, too, was a little shaken but he attributed this uneasiness to the manner and hatred with which their enemies had attacked. Of course, he had seen, and done, some evil in his long lifetime. Many kills had been made for less than moral reasons and many clients and required tasks that led to the same ends.

But this seemed... different. Somehow, there was no love lost between mortals and these Linsempti, only hatred grown. Like for a long time they had sat and stewed upon it, letting their hatred for the residents of the material plane consume them. Perhaps this was the source of their strength, or a bargain was made long ago to be free from wherever they had arrived.

Dusk now noticed a large, brown-haired human standing among them. His swagger denoted an ego and a confidence in his abilities, whatever those were. He introduced himself has Mo.

"So, what did I miss?" he asked, leaving an ignorant grin adorning his face. "Ten of us to save the world? Interesting..."

"Fourteen," said Dusk beneath his breath.

"There are fourteen. Four humans were slain by whatever it is we fight," he said, louder and clear enough for everyone to hear. "Remember every life until the task is complete. We stand on the backs of the dead."

Dusk grabbed the cowl of his cloak and dropped it over the edge of his face and moved into the armoury. He was going to need some new equipment before they moved against these creatures.

(Done finally. Won't be able to post anything until next weekend if there's an update or replies: Midterms)

Long after the sun once again took its sovereign command of the domain of the sky, Willow felt cold. Thanks to the years of upheaval past, rare was the man, woman, or child who had not already familiarized themselves with the phenomenon of death, though here, a full year after those times, the old wounds were proven to still carry pain. Even more so, almost, for after that wondrous day when the times of trouble finally ceased, it seemed as if the world would be alright again, but those foolish dreams were cast down with this latest tragedy.

They returned to Wanqir, late in the summer evening, when the sun was already going down on the fourth day since Twilight. Mitsuru and the Scout, as well as the tag-along Akihiko disappeared into Council meetings from the moment they arrived at the glorious Citadel. Just about as quickly, Armand and his companion, Deunan announced that they had business to attend to and departed, while the tall dwarf Manalagna disappeared with significantly less ceremony. If indeed he had decided that this quest was too much for him, Willow could hardly blame him. To have actually been dead and resurrected to life was something entirely more than the average person ever expected to have to deal with.

Inside the Citadel awaited an unkempt man who had arrived too late to join the advance party. Come to think of it, that may have been the only thing that saved his life. Could his tardiness have been the only thing keeping him from adding to the death toll? Or would his presence have significantly altered the battle in favour of victory? Such thoughts were useless, for they wouldn’t bring back a piece of Yin or the others large enough for Mitsuru to magick back to life (It occurred to Willow to ask).

Willow had hardly the patience to listen to the man introduce himself. She was too upset to even become self-conscious when he marvelled at her height. He went about jovially introducing himself to the party, who were taking the chance to depart to tend to their own needs. Only the mysterious elf, Dusk, the scythe wielding Xira, the newcomer Mortimer, and herself remained in the front hall of the Citadel.

Dusk murmured something under his breath near Willow. He looked up at Mortimer. “There are fourteen. Four humans were slain by whatever it is we fight," he said, louder and clear enough for everyone to hear. "Remember every life until the task is complete. We stand on the backs of the dead."
His speech touched Willow more than she thought. Perhaps the tall, dark-clothed elf had something of a heart beating inside his thin frame after all. With a twirl of his cloak, the elf stalked off to the armoury, where not long ago wrestled her team in a terrifying bumble. And now their bodies lie cold, assuming they even have that respect afforded them. Willow thought. She could almost hear Joseph’s voice, telling her that not all the world was as dark and pessimistic as it sometimes seemed.

She gazed thoughtfully at the black and bandaged scythe over Xira’s shoulder. “What good is the power to cause death?” She asked bitterly to herself, though louder than she intended. (Xira has room for a response, should she choose to do so).

An uneasy silence filled the hall. With nearly no information on the enemy, as well as the loss of teammates, the situation seemed grim. No, grim would be a bit of an understatement; morale was low, and was there even a way to fight those monsters?

Then again, for one, morale was of little concern. Krixa did not respond to Willow, merely shrugging, and gazing back at her with dark, cold eyes.

Finally, after a few hours, the doors to the Council chamber opened, and from them came Mitsuru and Akihiko. They seemed a bit weary, as they stepped back toward the party, but it was likely simply due to fatigue, rather than impatience with the Council or from the low morale.

When the two reached the party, that was when Mitsuru spoke. "We certainly do have much more time than we anticipated. Do you recall that unseen boundary that the Linsempti could not cross? Upon consultation with the high wizards and the diviners, we've been able to verify that it is indeed a boundary; it is the furthest point where the world of the Linsempti has overlaid our own. Apparently, the Linsempti are unable to completely leave their own world, or simply choose not to, and so stay halfway in between the two. The boundary, of course, is expanding. However, its rate of expansion seems to be rather slow, estimated at perhaps only a couple feet per day."

"I'm afraid it doesn't mean we can rest easily." The Scout's voice can be heard from above, "The Linsempti will try to make the boundary expand faster, namely by creating more cracks within the world."

Mitsuru continues for the Scout, "Our current objective now will be to try to intercept the Linsempti that search for a weak point to strike. Their forms, if the diviners are right, are akin to oversized snakes, and their first target was seen as a small temple between Aqinarr and Venerro. It will take about three days to get there if we stay on our side of the border and cross only when we have no other option. Is everyone clear on this, and does anyone have anything they wish to contribute?"

(Once again, I'm very sorry for the late update... I hope this game is still alive...)

Willow left the Citadel at a quick pace, though she didn’t make it very far before her gait slowed as her anxiety passed. She hardly paused long enough to let Mitsuru know she would be back with a nod before she escaped. She hadn’t meant to make such a scene, if indeed anyone noticed the haste of her departure. Xira probably noticed, that horrible girl with her eyes so cold and unfeeling.

Out in the cool night air, Willow’s head cleared, and her escape seemed more and more foolish as time put it in perspective. Those heartless, killer’s eyes had pushed some emotional meter inside her over the edge and suddenly felt the direst urge to get away.

Only the sky retained a touch of day as the traumatized continent was again bathed in inexorable darkness. The sun was just past the horizon and still cast its rays into the air just over the curvature of the planet. After a few moments of aimlessness, Willow found herself at a grassy park with a number of trees in it. Without conscious decision, she set herself down, back against a thick trunk.

Why must there be so much death? Was there not enough blood spilled and life lost before? Willow gazed around the darkening park. As she surveyed the domain of her vision, it occurred to her that these trees were not new, that they must have been planted long before the times of troubles, and had survived through them to continue growing strong today.

An impulse idea fell upon her, and unlike her usual self, she reacted to it. She quickly stood up and stripped off her breastplate until she once again was clothed in the same simple blue tunic that she had been wearing when this latest crisis began. She left the silvery pieces, the breastplate, grieves, cuisses, studded leather bracers, and other pieces of gear she couldn’t remember the proper names of, in a pile at the base of the tree. That task hardly completed, she wrapped her arms around the tree and began to climb as though she were a little girl again, without a care in the world. She passed a few levels of branches until she came to a satisfying altitude and lay back in the boughs. The becalming effect was instantaneous.

As peaceful and warm as it was up there, with the breeze blowing a soothing whisper through the leaves, common sense demanded that she not attempt to stay there all night. At any rate, the experience was less than perfect with the unnatural, white scars defacing the starry sky under which she used to sleep so long ago. What good was the power to cause destruction? She looked down to the ground and judged herself to be a safe enough distance before she slid out of the tree from one branch lower, landing with a thud. She placed her armour carefully in her magic bag and continued to her second stop that night.

--

Joseph was a tiny explosion of emotion the moment she showed up at the Inn that he was staying at. He talked quickly and excitedly, bouncing from frustration to exaltation to apprehension as he paced around the room with complaints that the guard wasn’t letting him leave the city alone and that practically all the other travellers and merchants were paralyzed with fear and refused to travel anywhere, so he had resorted to trying to hire an escort to Aquinarr. He broke off in mid rant to change subjects with hardly a breath, he wanted to know what was happening with her and why she was in the city and what was happening back home. Willow took a single step forward and Joseph cut off immediately and stepped up to her. “I’m glad you’re safe.” His head was the perfect height to rest on her shoulder as they embraced.

She told him that if he went to find Private Mist, she would be travelling to Aquinarr with an escort in the morning and he would be able to join them if he could get his cart ready before they left the city. Of course he refused, knowing that she was here in Wanqir now. She tried, but she found that she could not press him to go; her heart was set to the task. Truly, it probably wouldn’t matter within the slightest bit whatever city he was in.

“So you have to leave again in the morning?”
“Yes, we will be travelling to a temple between Aquinarr and Venerro to stop these monsters from getting any further into our world. They think that the Linsemptus—that’s what they’re calling these things as you’ve heard—seem to be unable to come too far into our world and so they’re trying to break through the barrier between their world and ours. I don’t know what it all means, really, but I know that we have to stop them.”
“And so you and a few other people are going to try to hold back their entire army? It sounds to me like you need more ‘volunteers’. I don’t know a sword except that the pointy end should be directed away from you, but if I did, I’d be there with you.”
“I know, you’ve said that before, and I’ve told you before that you would make it two feet before I strangled you and dragged you back, behind even the elders and children.” Joseph smiled at the old joke.

“If you really badly wanted to help me,” she said after a moment, “I need you to find me some magic weapons.” The shop talk grabbed his full attention. “What kind?”

“These Linsemptus creatures aren’t entirely there—I nearly dropped my sword yesterday when I swung through one of the bastards without touching it. The others have been saying something about a type of magic that can make them taste the steel every time, and I’m thinking I could use something to that effect.”

They went out into the young night and Joseph took her to a Girhn salesman with whom he was acquainted. He and the salesman argued for a moment over the price she could get for her own sword before gold changed hands, then they went about purchasing a ghost touch sword, which was where Joseph really proved his haggling skills. To look a stranger in the eye and tell him you weren’t going to pay that much money was something Willow knew she could never do. She tried to stare into the salesman’s eyes while he dealt with Joseph, but he glanced at her in mid sentence and she had to avert her gaze.

--

In the end though, she got herself a sword which she could rely on to cut through the Linsempti. They decided that she didn’t have the money for another sword, even if they could actually find another of these relatively uncommon items within the same night. They separated and she went back to the Citadel where she would find sleeping quarters, but not before making one last stop.

On her way to the Citadel, Willow’s path took her past an open temple where people were praying for an end to this crisis, in sharp contrast to the lively marketplace which made one nearly forget about the sky. She lingered outside and across the street for a minute. Was Yin religious? What about the others? Despite having no real answers to these questions, she found herself inside.

She lit four candles, one for each of the soldiers who died when they were flung from their mounts and trapped. She didn’t know anything about what kinds of prayers or ceremonies she could say, so she left. She passed the donation box on the way out, but with the costs of war as unexpected as they were, she chose not to offer anything. She promised herself that she would, though after the crisis passed. If it passed. What good was the ability to cause destruction? To protect that which you love from destruction.
At the same time as this thought occurred to her, she had an epiphany about Xira. In reflection, neither revelation had anything to do with the other, but nevertheless they struck within short order of each other. She thought about the scythe that Armand had been convinced was evil and needed to be destroyed, and she thought about Xira’s change of personality when talking about her past.

Feeling strengthened by the events of the night, she returned to the Citadel where no doubt everyone else was already trying to get some sleep. She crept in, hoping not to wake anyone already sleeping and found herself a room and fell gratefully into the bed.

--

Mitsuru approached her the next morning, having noticed that the girl hadn’t visited the armoury to borrow some magic weapons. In truth, Willow didn’t really feel comfortable just going in and taking something for herself. Nevertheless, the attentive councilwoman handed her another ghost touch longsword, explaining that she could only find one in reserve. “Thanks, I have one of my own. This will help.”

Willow had been planning to rely more dominantly on her new sword with her attacks, but now she didn’t have to worry about either weapon slipping through. Quickly she unstrapped the hilt on her right hip and replaced it within her magic bag, strapping on the borrowed weapon. When she was preparing for the journey, she considered not putting on her armour, reflecting on it’s uselessness against the Linsemptus, but ultimately decided that she would prefer to wear it, a decision reinforced by the idea that there might be more than just Linsemptus to face that far from civilization.

They gave her a black gelding to replace her horse from Wanqir, which was still being cared for after the taxing march it was forced through the other night.

(Hates forgetting which hand was dominant for each character. I think I made her right handed though...)

Dusk paid only just enough attention to Mitsuru to absorb the message she relayed. Dusk was only slightly anxious to be out of the confines of the council's hall, if only to be away from the humans and dwarf. The feeling of being collared and controlled was almost never welcome for the solitary elf. After several decades of a solitary existence, the ambiance of the world became calming and welcoming.

"Our current objective now will be to try to intercept the Linsempti that search for a weak point to strike. Their forms, if the diviners are right, are akin to oversized snakes, and their first target was seen as a small temple between Aqinarr and Venerro," said Mitsuru. "It will take about three days to get there if we stay on our side of the border and cross only when we have no other option. Is everyone clear on this, and does anyone have anything they wish to contribute?"

Dusk only shook his head slightly in response. The Aqinarrian lieutenant, Willow, was first to leave the citadel. The others mingled for a few moments but Dusk needed space and since he had already taken a few borrowed weapons imbued with the ability to strike incorporeal creatures, he made his own way for the door without a glance back.

From the citadel, Dusk's first instinct was to rest but he ignored it and made his way through the darkened shadows of the city. His mind was restless as he roamed the alleys and back ways. Keeping to the shadows he avoided other beings, humanoid or otherwise. Eventually he found a rough wall and clambered up onto the roof of an older building.

The cityscape was akin to the open ocean with swells of rooftops rising and falling as Dusk jogged along them. He kept his footsteps light, not wanting to disturb the occupants lest they deem the need to search for the cause of the pitter patter of footsteps on their roof.

The sun seemed somewhat restless in the sky and Dusk sought shelter from its heat. He sat in the shade of a clock tower for most of the afternoon, only moving to stay in the shade or turn his head to watch the occasional bird go by.

This wasn't the first time Dusk had found himself disappear into a myriad of thought and emotion alone. Over the past century he had dropped into these meditative states more and more to escape the strangling feelings of his involvements with other mortals. For some time he had struggled with the path that had led him to this moment in time, or so it felt then, and now, in a weird sort of way.

Evening came and the air cooled while Dusk simply sat beneath the waning shadow of the tower and the sun dipped below the far horizon. He pondered what it would feel like to be on the horizon, even though he knew that such an event could never happen. He pondered what the moment when his life would cease and his death would begin would be like. He wondered if he would be conscious of the the change, or if it would slip past him.

As he pondered and wondered, the evening gave way to night and lanterns illuminated the street for the night watch. The sky cleared of the milky haze of left over light bending about the air and distant points of stars glimmered overhead but Dusk took no heed of them or the drop in temperature.

It was nearly midnight by the time he rose to his feet. By this time, half of the night watch had changed over and the other half was just about to. He trotted along the rooftops seeking a place to exit from the rolling swells of plaster and stone. Finally finding one, he slipped down, bouncing from a balcony to a high wall before dropping to the cobbled alleyway.

He found a path back to the inn he had first wandered into that fateful day when the world had first cracked. The tavern was empty but for an older woman who yet cleaned from the night's mess and a few drunkards who had passed out before they even finished their final mugs of mead.

Dusk sat for a while before retiring to a room for a few hours. Rest came easy and Dusk felt exhaustion weigh on him as hard as ever. The bed was soft compared to ground and at least he didn't have to dig holes.

~~~~~

Before first light, Dusk was up and gone, again. He returned to the Citadel before a few others had awakened and simply waited, losing himself in a sea of recollections about the Linsempti, trying to remember anything about them that he might have heard in legends or myths that might be true.

Soon the others were awake and Dusk prepared for the journey with a fresh steed and repacked things. It was time to set out.



(Done. Good Lord, I apologize for not finishing or communicating. I'm still in but work has been more tiring than expected with a 12 km round trip commute every day.)

After checking out the resting quarters given to him, Mo takes to the streets, his natural tendency to wander taking over. He goes around the city with no set path in mind, but somehow, after a few hours, he arrived at the farm. As Mortimer strolled up the cobblestoned path to the house at the edge of the city, he couldn’t help but grin at what he was about to do. Raising his right hand, he gave three solid taps on the wood door in front of him.

A short lean man with graying hair answered the door. “How’s it going, old man? It’s been awhile,” Mo said with a wide smile.
“Mo! Where the hells have you been? Just showing up after five years. Come in, come in,” gesturing with his hand, “come, have a seat.”
“Hey, how have you been?” Mo asked as he gave the man a strong hug.
“You should come by more often, your mother gets yappy when your not here,” he said, taking a seat.
“Actually, I’ll be leaving the city tomorrow. I’ll be gone for almost a week,” he stated, “could you hold on to some things while I’m gone?”
“Just leave them in your room before you go.” said Tom, “where are you off to this time?”
“I’m helping save the world,” said Mo, sporting his habitual lopsided grin, “I know what you’re going to say. Don’t worry I’ll be fine, it’s in my blood.” Giving a wink, he proceeded to his room. He reached into his magic bag, pulling out his armour and tucked his armour in the corner by his bed.
“You’ve come a long way, I can still remember when you first left. You ran off to join the army, and then quit to go wandering the country in the middle of the times of trouble. Now here you are five years later. All I can say is, don’t die. You know how your mother worries about you.” Tom said leaning on the door frame.
“I’ll do my best.” Mortimer then stood up hugged his father, “see you in a week or so.”

As Mortimer wandered down the street, he cast his gaze upon the sky. “What have I gotten my self in to?” Sweeping his hand through his hair, “thanks, dad,” he said to the night sky, and continued to the Citadel.

Dawn approached as normal, save for the now-familiar crack breaking the sky in twain. Yet, at dawn the party quietly assembled. Few words were exchanged, since there was no need for them; words could wait until after they reached their destination.

Riding at a decent pace across the plains, it was impossible to tell exactly where the barrier between the two worlds was when one glanced off to the side. Where would the Linsemptus be unable to touch? Unwilling to take a chance, although they would be at the border and thus unlikely to come across resistance at this point, Mitsuru deemed that the party's path would not go close to the border at all, and would pass through a small farming village along the way.

Perhaps the lack of people along the route might have been a warning, or the lack of sound except for the wind... but there was little in the way of wildlife. Burrows hidden underground lay abandoned; dens in the tall grass were bare, and not a bird could be seen in the sky. The influence of the Linsemptus overthrew the natural order, being something not supposed to be in this world, thus the natural world rejected it, and avoided it.

Even predators didn't have a reason to prowl the plains... or at least, most predators. Reaching the town, or rather, the remains of the town, the party stopped briefly at the wasted ruins. Buildings were torn down or burnt to ash, storehouses were laid bare to see them pillaged, and a few humanoid bodies could be seen among the destruction.

A few figures were neither dead nor still, however. Barring the path, a roughly humanoid person resembling a rat more than anything else stood in the way of the party. He snickers once or twice, before giving a shrill whistle. As one, a number of other rat-like humans crept out of hiding, surrounding the party. From a tent in the centre of the village, a large creature could be seen emerging from it. It was a majestic wolf, although its bright red eyes clearly deemed it to be something more sinister. Or at least, it appeared to be a wolf, until it reared back on its hind legs, revealing it to merely have a wolf head and a fur cloak, concealing a very hairy humanoid body underneath. Strangely, the werewolf wears fingerless gloves of unwashed and dirty white material, as well as a blood red ruby amulet. Its fiery and cold eyes glares at the party.

"This is our turf, and if you wish to pass, you'll need to pay the toll." He says, his voice rough and coarse coming from a form more suited for growling and howling than talking. "So... your things or your lives... what will it be?"

(There is a total of 9 wererats, spaced evenly around the party. They're armed with various utensils; 3 have swords in one hand and each have a strange stick in the other hand (one stick is a vivid red, another is a vivid blue, and the last is a vivid yellow), 2 are carrying an assortment of daggers carried on overloaded belts crossed over their chests, and the other four have pole-axes. They all look about ready to try to forcibly dismount a few members of the party.

The werewolf I have described, but another detail regarding the werewolf is that one of his eyes is fiery and brightly burning, while the other seems dim and cold.

Anyways, you have a number of options... one of which is you can indeed attempt to overrun the were-creatures and bypass them entirely, but that's up to you. The creatures are standing about 10 feet away at closest, so it's easy to whisper and converse to each other as well.

I think that's everything... and so update is finally finished! Yays! )

Dusk rode easily along with the rest of the party as they left the city. They spoke little and Dusk eventually withdrew into his mind and let his horse walk along beside the others without much thought for their surroundings.

His mind wandered between topics, touching on what might be happening in other cities that were farther from Mount Venerro. How would those politicians be handling this sort of disaster? Did they even know it was happening?

They would know; mages with the power to send a message across the world with but a wave of their hand would see to that. What they would do, however, was another question entirely.

Dusk's thoughts did not wander to lovers or friends, for not many remained alive when he had last heard of them and those he had known were alive had likely passed on since then. He did find himself thinking about the young tigress that he had left outside of the city not much more than four days prior.

Probably surviving, he thought. Just as she had done before I'd ever heard of her.

It felt odd to think that way. Mortal creatures, at least more mortal than him, had seldom stirred his heart, especially of late when it seemed the world had hardened his soul. Yet, in its own way, the feeling of concern was welcoming. It felt good that a common enemy bore down on the world in such a way that he would be able to feel something towards another creature without fearing that they would turn on him, or vice versa.

Mitsuru had been mentioning to some of the others that their path would not take them close to the boundary where the Linsempti would be able to track or witness their travels. Truly, though, such a foe would be trying to use magic to discern all forces mobilizing against them. At least, that was what Dusk would do.

They would also pass through a small village that lay outside the city to provide for the farmers who lived off the land. Dusk's feelings of concern for the tigress quickly vanished as he spotted a thin haze of smoke coming from the road up ahead. His heart hardened and he felt his soul retract behind the barriers he had long perfected against death, destruction and the horrors of mortal existence.

Several thin plumes of smoke rose from the smoldering remains of some buildings. Dusk's elf eyes could discern humanoid shapes in the rubble, though not enough detail remained to discern the race or even sex of the unfortunate dead. Most buildings were no more than ash and rubble, though a few walls barely stood among the ruins.

Even among the dead, however, all was not still.

Dusk narrowed his eyes as a large humanoid rat stood in the centre of the main road through town. It saw them approach and snickered to itself before calling in a shrill whistle. A rustle belied movement in a circle around the party and the group found themselves surrounded by wererats, all of whom were armed.

From a stained tent near the centre of the ruined town emerged a great wolf's head and then what appeared to be its body. Until it stood, revealing plainly what its fiery red eye had strongly hinted at.

"This is our turf, and if you wish to pass, you'll need to pay the toll," He says, his voice rough and coarse coming from a form more suited for growling and howling than talking. "So... your things or your lives... what will it be?"

Dusk backed his horse from a prodding pike and stared at the creature with the intensity that only an elf can muster.

"We should kill them," he said in a low voice that would not travel far, after he drew up the grey hood of his traveling cloak. "We can spare the time and it will be good to whet our blades upon flesh that exists totally in our world. Retain a sense of victory before despair pushes us beyond our sanity."

(Dusk attempts to draw a dagger without notice = Sleight of Hand +10)

They have fled, Willow thought, our brothers and sisters of the earth have sensed the approach of the unnatural monsters, that which rent their heavens, and they have run from its presence. From the great skylords to the smallest burrowers, they run to escape this invasion. The mirthril-clad girl surveyed the dead plains around her. And when they reach the ocean, they will have to choose between plunging into the surf or facing the horrible Linsempti, if we cannot turn back the tides of this invasion.
Just as bad as the unnatural invaders, however, were those who took advantage of the people’s fear and distress for personal gain. Such people thrived during the time of troubles, and even now still stalked the land, terrorizing those who strayed too far from the rebuilding civilizations across Tiancann.

The lifelessness of the day made Willow glad that she had decided to don her armour that morning. Useless as it would be against the Linsemptus, its familiar weight provided a layer of comfort against the hopelessness of fighting the unknown. Also, though she knew it not, it would be put to good use before the day was done, as the husk of the farming town came into sight.

The bodies of tragedy were haphazardly stacked or left to fester where they died. It wouldn’t be a new sight to anyone there. Almost reflexively Willow began to build up her shield of despondent indifference, to detach herself from the horrors that lay before her. None of the anguish and empathy felt in her heart reached her face beyond a permanent mourning mask. Few people survived the time of troubles without learning how to seal their emotions away, and of those who did, most went cracked from the weight of the despair.

The brutal destruction of the peaceful farming community did not long remain a mystery, however. The cruel shapeshifters responsible for the carnage remained at the scene to lay claim to all that they had mercilessly conquered. Apparently they had won the ownership of the ruins and the land around by rule of might and any who wished to pass unmolested were required to forfeit a toll. A burning hatred filled Willow as she leaned back from her gelding’s reigns. The horse beneath her shifted in place, as if reacting to its rider’s anger. "So... your things or your lives... what will it be?"
The lithe elf, Dusk, returned the leader’s magical gaze with his own a withering glare. “We should kill them,” he whispered to Mitsuru. Willow nodded her assent and sized up the werewolf. The magic that plainly glowed in his eyes would be to his advantage and her detriment if she was not careful of it. Also, it looked like three of his rats openly brandished wands of their own, which they likely knew how to use to great effect.

(If and when all hell breaks loose because we declined their offer)

With the pretence of considering the shifter’s demand dropped, Willow dug her heels into the haunches of her mount and spurred it past the halberd wielding rat man, reaching for her swords at her waist as she closed on the leader. Common lore stated that shifters such as these instantly healed back any wound not made by silver. Having no silver weapons on her person, Willow determined that she would simply have to cut something that didn’t grow back fast enough.

(Pending deviations between my initiative order and the actual one, Willow is riding without hands (Ride +4) around the flat-footed wererat between her and the boss while drawing her longswords and attacking him (yay elevation bonus) with +17 attack bonus. If initiative falls such that the rat has come up to melee range, she’ll trample it and draw her swords while moving to the werewolf, without the attack. If the werewolf acts before me and does something screwy enough to mess with my plans, I’ll modify them then.)

Mortimer simply tried to follow Mitsuru, trying not to fall off his horse in the process. He would stare at the ground, occasionally glancing up at the others to see if he was on track.

This isn’t so bad thought Mortimer, as he smiled and tightened his grip on the reigns. It's just a horse.
Looking up he saw the several thin plumes of smoke rasing from the smoldering remains of some buildings. His smile faded as he tightened his armour. When they approached the village, he almost forgot he was on the horse. Did the Linsemptus do this? No, can’t be, they're ghost like, Mo questioned himself as he looked down in thought. Doing so, he saw his mount. Startled, he grabbed the saddle and the horse gave a little jump.

Mortimer seemed to be enjoying the ride, other then the balancing. But his face became like stone when he saw the Were Rat snickering. It was them, they did this. He thought with conviction, They don’t deserve to live.
"This is our turf, and if you wish to pass, you'll need to pay the toll." He says, his voice rough and coarse coming from a form more suited for growling and howling than talking. "So... your things or your lives... what will it be?" All this did, was rune Mo’s mood further.

"We should kill them," Dusk said in a low voice. "We can spare the time and it will be good to whet our blades upon flesh that exists totally in our world. Retain a sense of victory before despair pushes us beyond our sanity." The giantess gave her assent. Mo just rased his hand to his greatsword in response.

(Once battle commences)

Putting a little pressure to the horses right side, to turn the horse, Mo releases. Now facing his appoint, with a big sweeping motion, Mo slides out his greatsword. Mo’s eyes flashed a dark yellow for a moment, then a very quiet and low-pitched tone arose, it grew louder and louder, within a second it stoped. As a silvery membrane enveloped Mo, and evaporated as soon as it came.

(That was a standard action Power, called Empathetic feedback I’m using 10 Power points. Effect: 'You empathically share your pain and suffering with your attacker. Each time a creature strikes you in melee, it takes damage equal to the amount it dealt to you or 5 points, whichever is less. This damage is empathic in nature, so powers and abilities the attacker may have such as damage reduction and regeneration do not lessen or change this damage. The damage from empathic feedback has no type, so even if you took fire damage from a creature that has immunity to fire, empathic feedback will damage your attacker.' I’m using the Augment, it adds 1 point to the damage per power point, and I’m using Five.)

With the general consensus quite clear amidst the emotions of the allied companions, it was also sure that battle would soon breach the plains. Mitsuru, Akihiko and Xira had nothing to contribute to the discussion, and mentally prepared themselves for battle. Yet, even as Dusk drew his blade, the werewolf's one good eye burned with fury.

"So be it." He proclaims, spreading his arms to be ready for combat.

Having drawn his blade first, Dusk hurls it through the air, the blade bursting into flame as it flies. His aim is true, and it lands with a sickening thud into the shoulder of the werewolf. The speed of the throw and its accuracy catches the werewolf off guard. He grunts and recoils in pain, quickly pulling the blade out of his shoulder without a second thought and dropping it onto the ground. (9 damage to the werewolf)

"If you would choose your death, then I will gladly oblige!" The werewolf roars, holding out its gloved left fist. Seemingly from within it, a long pole of finely woven wood appears, one end appearing to be tinged with frost and bearing an icy crystal, the other end appearing to be burnt, with a blazing ruby held within its grasp.

He expertly twirls the staff, baring his fangs and pointing the icy end towards the party, before bellowing something halfway between a growl and a word. Immediately, the ground underneath the group becomes shadowed, and a cry of pain from the Scout above warns them an instant before impact.

Giant slabs of ice, or at least that's what it feels like, fall down from the sky, pelting the party in its entirety. (19 damage to all) In the werewolf's right hand, a longsword (for medium-size people anyway) appears. It is of a strange make, its blade glistening red, its guard looking more like claws extending outward, and with the hideous glowing depiction of a cat's eye for its pommel.

"Looks like you're not the only cold ones here, Mitsuru and Xira!" Akihiko calls to his charge.

"This is hardly time to joke around!" Mitsuru retorts.

However, amidst the frenzy of the ice, Willow pushes her horse to go forward, despite its pain. It breaks free of the storm, and gallops past one of the wererats, who is too shocked by the advance to react in time. With both blades in hand, Willow slashed what would have been a grievous cut over any normal man across the werewolf's torso. Unfortunately for her, the werewolf's flesh was far more resilient than she had anticipated. (1 damage to the werewolf)

Xira is next to act, slipping off her horse, which runs out of the storm and away from combat, while drawing her scythe. Even through the snow and ice, the Death Scythe's dark aura is clearly visible as it activates. She rushes forward, before bringing it down upon the wererat wielding the blue wand. The unfortunate creature shrieks and twists away in vain, before crumpling to the ground. (28 damage to the wererat, it's dead) Xira grits her teeth in pain, as the wounds upon her hand open once more, spilling her own blood because of the deadly blade. (18 damage to Xira)

Mitsuru, a master of the element of ice in her own right, focuses, bringing the already available cold to bear. A small sphere of ice shoots from her palm, before sharply impacting one of the other wererats, this one being the one holding the red wand. Its eyes widen, and it shrieks, before it is frozen and shatters from the strength of the cold. The red wand remains, glistening upon the ground. (23 damage to the wererat, it's dead)

Akihiko, like Xira, also dismounts. Instead of wasting his time on the small fry, he rushes after the leader. Despite being slowed because of the snow, he runs up to the werewolf nearly as fast as Willow's horse.

Mo, unlike the others, takes this opportunity to prepare himself with a defensive ability, and draws his blade.

The Scout is the last to act of the party, although no one can actually see her. Amidst the sound of the falling ice, her soft voice is completely assimilated, so the lightning bolt that strikes is rather unexpected. However, the flash of light is quite visible to all as she pinpoints and singles out the last wand-wielding wererat, which crumples to the ground and twitches from the impact. (20 damage to the wererat... it's technically not dead, but definitely in the negatives)

The six remaining wererats begin to falter, their nerve threatening to break.

"Attack!" The werewolf commands, "That is, of course, if you still wish to be considered part of the pack."

With this, the wererats quickly switch their tentative retreat to a full on advance. The dagger-wielding wererats quickly hurl two daggers, one at Mitsuru and one at Mo. Dusk feels the blade nick his arm, however, all things considered, the prick of the blade was little concern to him. (4 damage to Dusk) Mo simply raised his greatsword, and the small dagger was halted against the width of the massive blade.

Willow hears a clang and feels a slight impact upon her back. However, as much as the halberd-wielding wererat might have wanted to try to hurt her and impress its leader, its blade failed to penetrate the armour.

Sensing himself also being attacked, Akihiko instinctively ducked, and over his head a second halberd passed by, with the unfortunate wererat behind him scowling at his failure.

Seeing that these creatures are quite weak, and he himself is rather protected, Mo relaxes, a bit too much, for a halberd cuts through a joint in the side of his armour. An electric shock accompanies the pain of the cut, making the wound hurt a surprising amount for such a weak enemy. (13 damage to Mo) However, the wererat that hit him screeches in pain, although it has no idea just how it got hurt. The poor creature looks around fruitlessly for its non-existant attacker. (10 damage to the wererat)

Dusk hears the huffing of the wererat that comes up to strike at him, and the halberd is swung, but Dusk neatly avoids the blade altogether.

Round 1 Status

Scout - Yellow
Mitsuru - Yellow
Akihiko - Yellow (barely... still mostly green)
Xira - Yellow
All horses - Red
Mo - 46/78
Willow - 53/72
Dusk - 38/57
6 wererats remain, one of which is very very pale (the one that hit Mo), and the others are unharmed
The werewolf looks more angry than hurt

Dusk grunted and crouched against his horse, holding stiff to the saddle as the freezing shards pelted the entire group. His dagger had struck and injured the werewolf but not enough to stop him. Willow rushed him on her horse and struck a glancing blow with one of her swords. It grazed the bastard creature's shoulder and left a small trickle of red. Just enough to sting, not enough of to really take him out of the fight, either.

The rest of the party attacked and Dusk easily ducked under the clumsy swing of a halberd. As he did he let his connection with the material world fade and the world blurred as if he had opened his eyes under water. Being as a ghost had it's benefits, such as not falling through his horse and into the ground. Instead, Dusk neatly rolled sideways to the ground, being just tangible without effort to land there and not fall through the world.

Or perhaps the earth was not the same earth as before. It felt solid enough but he had never pondered the thought before and wondered slightly why it came up now. Things had always happened the way they had always happened. Maybe it was this crack in the sky and these Linsempti that had come through it to kill and destroy them all that made him think this way. Maybe it was simply because one day not long ago he had changed. Maybe he had always wondered and had simply never really thought too hard about it.

Dusk's conscious mind snapped back to attention and he felt his eyes staring into the back of the wererat that had just swung a halberd past his saddle. It stopped where it was and looked around a bit but not behind it. Not to where Dusk had drawn his brilliantly edged swords. Not that the bandit could have seen the blurred weapon anyways. Or perhaps he could, but definitely not the hand the wielded it.

As Dusk's stroke fell, so did his tenuous hold on the ethereal realm and he felt the breeze against his cheek again. The sounds and screams of battle rushed back to his ears. He longed for the silence of ghosts.

(Ethereal -> 10-15ft move to behind the wererat + Draw Sacred and Ghost Touch shortswords -> Attack with GT

Round 2: If Rat not dead -> Full Attack vs. Rat. If Rat dead: -> Draw dagger 2 and throw vs open opponent. If no open opponent, move to attack next living wererat)

When the ground fell shaded and the scout cried in pain, Willow didn’t look up to see what the threat was. She only threw her arms over her head and spurred her mount on, trying to shield it with her back. Drawing her swords, she moved in to bring the giant wolf’s attention to her.

The blow she delivered immediately sealed to the point that it was little more than a long surface wound. While she expected this, it was discouraging to see the edge taken out of her attack.

An impact against her back alerted Willow that the rat she passed had followed her. Unable to watch them both where they stood, Willow leaned to the right of her horse, guiding it to strafe a step in that direction, while she attacked. Her focus remained on the werewolf before her, but she broke off from him for a second to keep the rat behind her from getting cocky.

The only life these brutes seemed to know was dominated by strength, where violence and intimidation were the tools used to satisfy their greed. To that, their life of violence would end by violence, if Willow had to cut them a hundred times before they succumbed to mortality. To that, their judgement for their worldly deeds awaited them.

(5-ft step right, full attack on werewolf, with one attack reserved for trying to deter the rat behind me. Willow will keep attacking the werewolf and saving any AoO for his casting unless the rat provokes one to go back to a flanking position this turn (and thereafter, saving for werewolf). Until the rat is dead, she will use her last attack on him or any others in melee range. All subject to major changes in the flow of battle.)

The poor creature looks around fruitlessly for its non-existant attacker. “How does it feel!?” Mo shouts, “not as fun now, is it!” He swoops his greatsword up to finish the job. “Now die.” Sending the massive sword down upon him.

Mo turned away from the rat. “Now for you.” Mo shifted his ice-cold gaze to the wolf. He guided the horse to face the wolf. He then galloped towards him. “You’ll pay for what you have done!” Mo brought the sword up in both hands, to begin his assault. First he swung sideways, then brought it down.

(That’s an attack action hopefully killing the rat. A move action to the wolf. Then a full attack action on said wolf.
P.S. If rat not dead attack again then the move to wolf then attack.
I'm so sorry it took so long.)