The Gravefells - RPLOG
Participants
Date
2/7/477
Log
Even in these shadow-held lands, the sun is expected to shine during the daytime, but something is amiss today. Out of the blue - practically overnight, for anyone who has been watching - a mist has sprung from the earth. White and impenetrable, no one can see any more than a few feet into it before all vision is lost. A wall advancing outwards towards the south and west, it blots out the sun for all those standing near, turning it into a pale imitation of its usual self.
There is no one to meet anyone who has arrived, no guide to show the way. Only the tiniest of whispers on the wind which may have been carried out from the mist's heart by air magic - or perhaps one's imagination - serve to draw anyone who may have been in the area to it, perhaps out of morbid curiosity.
Kalt makes her way cautiously to the edge of the fog wall, dismounting before sending her steed off as the Vixen double checks her armor. The plates and bindings bound properly, and her spear in her right hand with her shield in her left as she keeps her helmet down while awaiting others...
Heavy steps rumble across the misty grasslands as Fenris arrives on the shoulder of his bulky, bovine golem, Behemoth. Something was very, very strange here. He alights from Behemoth's shoulders and sniffs at the air, peering into the approaching wall of fog. He nods to Kalt, who has arrived before him. "I'm not sure what we are looking at," he says quietly, "But I don't think it is Her." He carefully checks his gear and secures the collar of his coat to protect his chest and throat. "But who can be sure?" he asks.
Cassidy approaches quietly and without much warning, dropping lightly from the air to land aside Fenris and Kalt with a soft thump and rustle of her white robes. "Hello, Kalt, Fenris. Good to see you both again." She reaches up to adjust her mask before straightening out her garments. "Quite the unusual situation, isn't it?"
Selena approaches through the haze and mist, shivering a little uncomfortably. The beings already gathered are given waves in greeting; "Cassidy, Fenris... Kalt. You've all been well, I hope?" The wolfess's slight pause is punctuated by her looking aside somewhat.
Not long after the others, a coated leonine figure steps cautiously towards the fog wall. Besides the usual clanking of metal equipment and such rattling upon his back, he accompanied by a distinct crunching sound within his jaw. Produced from a bag, he treats himself to a delicious and crunchy bakery snack along his travels. "Good evenin' to ya," Dio greets with a small spray of crumbs. "Strange bit o' fog this is. Could it be a new spirit o' somethin'?" Reaching down, he finds the nearest small rock and tosses it randomly into the fog.
Siyu is dressed in leather and mail today as he's out adventuring, the pretty looking rodent pulls his long hair back ,and tucks a skullcap on. Keeping his pouchs of poultices and powders well in line as he follows along with the group. "What an odd thing to see...is this normal? I mean, normal for shadowlands..." he glances at Fenris. "Her? You mean boney?" the lack of proper noun clear on his voice. Though the rodent makes sure his sword and dagger pair is still tight on his hips, a slight nervousness from the diminutive rodent.
The wall of mist has no reply for the musings of those observing it, continuing to pour outwards - at a snail's pace, perhaps, but unmistakably so. Inpenetrable and silent, the only way it seems that anyone can learn anything about it is to step within its confines - but who knows what dangers lurk within, should one take such a foolhardy step?
From the heart of the mist, again..."Help...if anyone can hear us...help. This is not natural." As if the obvious needed saying, but it does sound a little hysterical. "By the Creators. Someone. Please."
Kalt grunts gently to Fenris as she pulls her visor down, before looking to Selena as she nods. "M'figurin' we ain't got many options right? If'n it's her, well... We'll be findin' out." She gives a stout nod, before raising her kiteshield once more as the voices come out to the group, the vixen pursing her lips then before she takes a deep breath and begins to walk into the mist with her shield raised. "Let's go stickin' together though..."
Fenris nods to the others as they arrive his gaze fixed into the swirling mist. "Yes, Siyu," he says, "That is who I mean." The tiger blanches a bit when he hears the plea for help and his jaw sets in determination. "It is probably a trap," he says aloud, "But I cannot ignore a plea for help." He fingers the bronze lantern insignia displayed on his belt. The tiger looks at his fellow Lightbringers in the group. "Time to bring the light, right?" he says with a grin, following Kalt into the mist, Behemoth rumbling at his heels.
Cassidy folds her hands behind her back and nods. "Yes, time to do our duty, as it were," she moves off after Kalt, following close behind. "I've got your backs," she adds, as she starts to flex her fingers in preparation for whatever might lie ahead.
Selena shakes her head. "I've been here plenty of times before, and I can safely say this isn't 'normal'." She replies to Siyu, letting out a somewhat loud sigh. "Well, either way. Fenris has a point; a light would probably be useful if only to give us a point of reference to follow." She notes, bringing a small orb of flame into being just in front of the group and offering a hand out. "Unless someone has rope, we have no idea how deep the fog bank is either. Keeping our hands together until we're through should stop anyone from getting separated if it is."
"I don't think I can be trustin' some spooky fog I tell ya," Dio proclaims with a strong nod, and of course followed up by another delightful crunchy treat. "But it ain't like I got 'nough scars." Tying up the string around his bag o' treats, his tucks it away within his coat and pulls his tower shield to the front. "If we're all within' huggin' distance, it won't be too bad. An' remember, the safe word is... Banana."
Siyu winces at the mist, "I think it would be incredibly easy to get lost in that..." he looks around at the relativly grassy plain for a lone tree, or a fairly big rock. Pulling out a length of rope from his bag, "And that sounds ever so much like a trap for the gallant..." he mummers. "Wait...hold on! I..." and then people are going into the bitch, "Flame it..." he grunts and pulls out a spare sword. Pounding it into the turf and tying the rope around the handle. Then tying the extra around his waist and bounding into the mist after the group.
The mist is cold and clammy, strangely sticky and pliant as it comes into contact with the skin. Yet it has no smell in and of itself, and does not seem to directly harm those whom it comes into contact with. The most there is, perhaps, is a foul tinge to it when one inhales, perhaps the stench of rot, but that is all as everyone steps straight into another world altogether.
The mist itself can't be more than perhaps twelve feet, a simple outer layer like the shell of an egg. Within...the first thing that one notices is the smoke. There is no need for Selena's little light: the old battlefield is aflame, lit by the flaming arrows that sweep through the air from the hastily-constructed defenses. Gone are the quiet, peaceful grasslands that until a day ago were laid south of Mossy Stone - some malign force has transformed them into a battlefield of burnt grass and scorched earth. One is able to see clearly the silhouettes of beings in tarnished armour and wielding equally ancient weapons, locked in battle with - yes, those are unmistakably shadows and the shadow-touched. Yet they are but spectres - shadow and beings alike fall to the ground as they slay and are in turn slain, dissolving into cold, white mist while even more coleasce out of that same substance to continue the fight.
The spectres may be immaterial, but the fire, smoke, arrows - and the weapons they wield are very real. Thankfully, they seem to have little interest in the living as they are locked in eternal battle with their shadow counterparts - but the risk of being caught in the crossfire is ever present.
Selena looks over the battlefield with a look of mortification on her face. "... So many..." She murmurs to nobody in particular, before swallowing and looking back tot he group. "It's all work of an old one; all of this." She quickly explains, giving Fenris an appreciative nod for his efforts in magical protection.
Such a strange fog. Dio couldn't help but stick out his tongue and attempt a good taste of it. Naturally, he wasn't rewarded well and it only spoiled the aftertaste of his snack. With the battle now in view, the lion watches silently in awe, yet his shield still sits carefully in front of him in case any wayward projectile decides to soar in his direction. "How interestin'..." he muses under his breath, even giving a pinch to his golden arm. "Ow! Thought I was dreamin' o' somethin'. But this is somethin' awfully familiar. The first attempt to take back Mossy Stone back when the shadows 'ad it under control didn't work out so well fer Lord Robert 'bout twenty-seveny years ago. I remember we used to talk 'bout some o' the battles with shadows in my mercenary camp."
Kalt frowns at the battle taking place infront of them, her hands moving to place the spear upon her back before drawing out her broadsword. The blade alighting with creator's fire, to perhaps help her in any measure should they come into the crossfire. For the most part however, she keeps her shield raised and at the ready as she takes a deep breath. "... Point the way, an' we can go an' try'n figure this all out... Give'em rest an' all."
Ghosts of the past. Bile rises in Fenris's throat, long buried terrors and memories arise at the sight of the terrible shadow attack before him. The burning wagons, the screams of the dying. The tiger swallows hard and waves a hand through the air, doing his best to make a shield of tumultuous air. He has a feeling that these are shadows of the past, but best not to take a chance on how real those arrows are. He frowns a bit as something seems to interfere with his mathemagic.
Fenris looks to Dio as he explains what the group is seeing. "Lord Robert," he mutters to himself, fiddling with something in one of his deep pockets. "I suppose it's time we see how we can help," he says a little louder, burying his own remembered terrors for later.
Cassidy reaches into a fold on her robe and withdraws the spirit-made dagger, flipping it around to hold in reverse grip as she nods quietly. "What a foul place indeed. How should we proceed?" Her eyes dart back and forth under her mask, taking in the sights of various portions of the battlefield. Certainly not the kind of situation she was expecting. A full on battle? Especially one from the past? Not every day you see that.
Siyu bursts out into a...not mist...with a rope around his hips. He huffsa small bit and unties himself, feeling a little foolish, but he figured it was a good idea. He lets it drop and then looks out across the battlefield, "Where the hell did an army come from? There arn't any troop movments out here. Who would move an army this close to Mossy? And with Shadows? What in the..." he chitters a little bit and flicks his ears at the other conversations, "This is somehow the past? Lord Robert's attack?" he flattens his ears, "The dead walking, but not their bodies, their spirits..." he watches the eternal struggle. he looks around, "So who was calling for help?" he lets the question hang. A quick took to Fenris, "Hold on, can we help...SHOULD we help. Is this illusion, spirits, or just some...trick of Mossy Stone. I would act without first figuring out what we should do..."
Give them rest, but there is no rest for these souls. Trapped in the last moments of their lives, the spectres fight from trenches dug with earth magic and behind wooden palisades, meeting the never-ending tide of shadow that pours out from the city - which oddly enough, seems far newer than it is in reality. twenty-seven years newer, to be precise. One by one Lord Robert's outriders die, only to be raised from the mists to fight again, perhaps in the vain hope that they, by some miracle, will be able to escape the gravitas of history and change their fate.
Such a miracle is not forthcoming. By all appearances, they seem to be cursed to die every day...forever. But to what ends? For what purposes? Just as one might ponder these, the voice calls out again from the middle of the strife:
"Help. Please. There're so many of them. Every one we put down, two more appear from the ground. There doesn't seem to be any way out. Can anyone hear us?"
Kalt begins to slowly move forward as the voice calls out once more, the vixen takes a deep breath as she does so, and keeps her shield and sword at the ready. "... Well, whatever's callin' us, s'closer in the middle of it all... M'figurin' if'n we keep our hands to ourselves, an' ain't drawin' attention, they ain't gonna go an' try to kill us." The Vixen's words riddled with uncertainty, and her motions slow and easy to recall if the group decides upon another path.
Fenris's ears perk at the sound of the plaintive cry amidst the tumult of the battle. He remembers well the horror of a shadow attack. "We hear you," he says, following Kalt, "How can we help?"
Cassidy closes her eyes and nods. "The way I figure it... If we help the spirits 'win' here today, though it won't mean anything in history, it might at least let them rest." She tightens her grip around the hilt of her dagger, a frown creeping across her face beneath the white. "Either way, we can't really just sit and do nothing, can we?"
Selena looks out over the battlefield again. "I don't know if we can, Cassidy." She replies to the woman. "You saw them reforming from the mists. There's something else going on here." The wolfess muses. "I can see if Kendrac has anything to say about this - it doesn't match up with any of the old ones I've seen before.
"Mighty sad this is." Dio holds out a vertical palm in front of him and mouths a silent prayer, one to mourn those who have passed in battle. As a mercenary, he couldn't help but feel for the poor tortured souls. "There's gotta be some kind o' 'eart o'... somethin'. Anythin' that might create such a curious shroud 'round an eternal battle."
