The Plagueman Cometh (Accolade)

[Wrenmae]

He would never admit that he dozed. In the waning hours of evening, his vigil was interrupted by the wearieness of the journey he'd been on to this point. In the trees he rested fitfully, his dreams plagued by shadows and skulls. He dreamed of the graves he'd filled in Zeltiva, he dreamed of the hollow nuit faces on Sahova and the leering smile of Rhysol. He dreamed of the people he'd lost, the people he hoped were still alive.

But his dreams were torn form him by the single scream that split the night's silence. Momentarily panicked, Wren nearly fell from the tree, catching a branch and holding himself over the drop before pulling himself back up.

Zan said nothing, but transmitted what he saw to Wren. The creatures were four legged monstrosities. Quick, dangerous, a large bat-like spread of wings and rows of razor teeth. They looked serpentine, hungry, and angry.

Cursing to himself, the mage scrambled down the tree, his body already shifting again, growing quicker as he took aspects of the Zith, his tarnished yellow eyes his own torchlight in the darkness.

The first of the beasts had already dragged the first caravan guard off into the sky, and the other was snatched before Wrenmae reached the camp. The tents were a small modicum of defense against the creatures, which seemed more interested in the easily grabbed prey than seeking it past the tent fabric.

So it was no surprise when two of the creatures caught the night beneath their wings and dove toward Wrenmae, jaws and claws open and willing. The mage was no stranger to combat, perhaps, but he was still groggy from sleep. Reaching to his hip, he pulled one of his long dagger and hurled it at the closest Balicani. The blade was well thrown, aided by his ability to pierce the night with stolen eyes. Metal bit flesh and continued through, piercing the Balicani in its gaping mouth and through the top of its head. Thrashing, the creature winged past him and crashed into the campsite, rolling to a spitting, twitching, curling mess as it tried to push the blade from its head, too enraged and hungry to realize it was already in its death throes.

Unluckily, the other was too fast for the hypnotist to pull his other dagger. Shrieking, it descended on him, its long neck bent around to aim a bite into Wren's neck. Falling back, the mage threw up his arm to intercept the jaw, the steel-cloth cloak catching the teeth as they bit down. Although of stunningly strong construction, the strength and pressure of the teeth pierced the cloth and bit deep into Wren's arm.

It drew its head back again, winging up around the mage and around him.

Its partner tore the dagger form its mouth, shivering with the damage to its brain but far too furious or hungry to care. Spitting blood it scurried across the ground and tore into the first tent it came across, scything simple cloth away from it as it attacked at the people within.

But Wren only saw a moment of that, throwing himself flat as the Balicani above him winged low over his head. Rolling, he was reaching for his other dagger when he felt strong claws scrabble against his cloak, grab hold, and yank him from the ground. Immediately, Wren threw the hood of the cloak over his head, brief protection from an expected bite.

The earth grew wider in his vision, pulled higher into the air by the vengeful thing. It might have gotten higher, too, but a blast of sudden heat and Wren was tumbling from the air with his assailant. Zan had risen from the trees and fired a fireball directly into one of the monter's wings, punching a burning hole through it and sending both predator and prey to the ground.

Wren his with a crack and saw red. Pain echoed through him as he tried to roll away from the furious monster still trying to bury its teeth into his body.

He felt it on his back, felt its teeth trying to tear at his cloak and then...nothing.

Zan engulfed the creature in his form, grown to the size of a horse, and held the thrashing monster inside till its struggle grew feeble and finally, stopped.

Wren, however, gripped his wounded left arm and spit curses. What the petch WERE these things? The monsters Minerva had spoken of? Gods! Even one was enough to nearly kill him.

Reaching for his Vayt blessed dagger, he plunged it once into the monster's chest, ensuring that even if it somehow did not drowned, poison would do it in before it could revive to exact revenge.

Bleeding, exhausted, Wrenmae started back for the camp, limping when his right leg refused to obey him correctly. He'd twisted or broken it, surely, but for now there was still one more of those things loose in camp.

He needed to kill it.

After all, more death would just attract more predators.

[Accolade]

The camp was a mess, blood and flesh rained down from the tree tops from the creatures first onslaught. Some of the tents had been destroyed and others had been knocked over by the rampaging people trying to get out of the way and others going for their weapons. Minerva had escaped the tent well before anything happened to it, and was hiding with the rest of the woman behind the wagons while the men tried to fight off the beast. The Balicani had landed into the camp and was fending it off from the men as if it were his home.

Some of the men were archers and raised their bows to fire upon the creature from afar, and others, armed with swords and other weapons yelled and poked the create as they tried to force it back and out of the camp. There were bodies laid about, some were dead and others still alive and in need of medical treatment. The archers attacked first, firing arrows at the creature. A wide spread of spiky points descended upon the Balicani, a few of them piercing into it's flesh and others just missing their mark.

The creature scurried back into the shadows to hide itself and waited out an opportunity. There was a silence, only muffled by the slight chatter of the men wondering if they had killed it over not. Suddenly the creature became air born and swooped from the shadows to stab it's long horns into the chest of one of the men wielding a bat and slinging him into those behind him. The archers quickly regained themselves and aimed to fire again, but the creature had already lifted back into the dark skies and was coming around again.

More arrows were fired, but in the darkness it was very hard to pin point where it was and how soon to fire. It was futile as they learned, the Balicani swooped down right in the middle of the group and snatched up yet another person and returned into the sky with him. His cries were short lived, fading between the distance and the teeth that ripped through his head and neck.

The archers continued to fire into the night, hoping that the Gods would guide their arrows to their target. The women continued to scream and hide between the wagons whenever they thought the creature was flying overhead. Minerva dropped down and crawled underneath one of the wagons and held her shield and sword close. She hadn't seen where Wrenmae had gotten off to, or if his body was amongst those already slain.

[Wrenmae]

Trudging back toward camp, Wren had only a little time to reflect on what he'd killed. After thinking it over, he had gone back to drag the dead Balicani with him to the circle of frenzied fire he saw in the distance.

As he stepped into the circle of light, archers cursed and turned to fire on him, mistaking his approach for one of the predators, back to ravage them again. Instead, a bloodied Wrenmae dragged the body of one beast into the campsite and dropped it, falling to his knees and gasping, holding tight his wounded arm.

"Gods, man," One of the archers said, "You killed it."

"Yeah," Wren answered, "But not without a cost. I see no other bodies but counted at least two or three more. They will return and we must be ready."

Before the caravan guards could speak, Wren was pushing himself back to his feet, his voice cracked with authority and he wove in strands of hypnotism into his words, the subtle order to 'obey' as he spoke.

"Quickly. We need a count of the dead and to redistribute any lost weapons." He picked his own dagger from the ground and sheathed it, "First aid for those who need it, but conserve your supplies. The beasts come at us during the night and they come quickly. We'll need to reconfigure the watch and make as much time as we can by day. We need alert fighters in the evening so some of the guard will need to sleep the day to be ready in the night. I think it's safe to assume they'll harry us till none remain...I aim to be the surviving party in this battle, and I doubt I'm the only one."

He paused, spotting Minerva under the wagon and offering her a small, but hopeful smile.

"We need to move, treat the wounds fast and be prepared to move at daylight. If the creatures come at us again tonight, we need to be ready, so archers retrieve what arrows you can and make sure you make your shots count."

[Accolade]

The camp was a mess now, blood splattered the tents and surrounding trees. Another small fire had been lit to help keep light in the camp. Many were dead from the grizzly attack, and more wounded. It had been a slaughter and the guards themselves hadn't expected anything larger than wolves. They had been mistaken and it had cost them all that night.

Some of the people had already started to run to their loved ones and trying to help those that had been wounded. Others wept as they looked on at what was left of their family, friends after the savage attack was over. By the time Wren returned, the camp was already shaken and even the slightest noise would cause them to jump.

Once they realized who it was, the guards were surprised to see him alive and so was Minerva. The young plague blessed was still under the cart, but only because a woman had been holding her tightly there during the assault by the Balicani. Finally, she was able to wiggle free and pushed herself from under the wagon taking her sword and shield with her.

She came into a horrid sight and having no one she was close to, Minerva just looked at the chaos around her, before slowly making her way over to where Wren stood. It was a surprise to see, the very things that had killed the Knight and squire the night before, had just been bested by this man, her..companion. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to wonder, that if he had been in her city, if he had been her friend maybe he could have saved her to.

The rest of the women spilled out one after the other, and those with healing knowledge of any kind went to help the wounded while the rest started to pack up what they could that hadn't been damaged. The remaining guards and able boded men worked to move the dead around, but there was a problem. An argument had broken out, one panic stricken merchant wanted to pack up and leave at once, and he had manged to get others to join in with him.

The people were scared, angry, and didn't want to have to deal with another attack. But there were others, the caravan guards and a few others, who thought they should wait until morning as Wren did. One short, balding man stepped forward close to the lit fires so that all could hear and see him and spoke for the group.

"We need to leave now. There are too many hurt and not enough guards left to protect us all. Take what you can, and leave the rest but we have to move now!" Another man stepped forward to add his thoughts and about how dangerous it was to travel by night.

Minerva looked on with the same emotionless stare that she had since they arrived. The young woman still felt detached from it all, as if she were watching a show at a theater. Even as she stood there by Wren and wondered how many people would die just because they were standing there, but she didn't seem to care.

The camp was in an uproar as the men continued to argue on what actions to take, and had split the remaining people in half in their decision. Wren had a choice to make, he could try and settle the argument and get the camp back on track, or he could take his silent companion and leave the rest to their doom.

Something had to be done either way, and with all the commotion and lights, two more Balicani were on their way. But there was something else, a man, dressed in slightly expensive armor stood against the wagon looking on. He had went unnoticed for a while because he didn't speak much, but he was there and his eyes were directly on Wren, or was it Minerva he watched?

[Wrenmae]

One of the women tied fresh gauze around his wounded arm, securing it as best she could. It was more the job of the moment than something that would last. She murmured apologies, promising to take better care of it once they were safe again. Wren almost told her not to bother, that his wound could never be infected. But instead he simply nodded and let her go on her way.

He needed to focus on bigger issues. Technically speaking, he and Minerva could slip away in the chaos. It was likely the beasts would resume their attack on a larger food source than simply himself and her. It wouldn't be hard either, just string up the corpse to his horse to Maladict later and leave with her.

Minerva said nothing, a ghost beside him with her shield and sword. She had offered no hand to comfort Wren or smile to celebrate his return. Much of her was numb, distant. Putting his uninjured hand gently on his shoulder, he offered a brief smile before striding toward the fire light.

The merchants were already beginnings to pack their things, arguing with the guards that as the employers, they had the right to make the call. They would all die as they were, especially arguing like that. If Wrenmae saw the man with the expensive armor, he chose not to say anything to him, instead stepping into the circle of firelight and holding out his hands.

"Enough! We were attacked while disorganized before. Continuing to squabble like children will make things no better."

One of the merchants scowled, "By what right do you-"

"What right?" the hypnotist challenged, "What right? I slew one of the beasts and have just as much a reason to survive as the rest of you. Now. We know what they are..." he gestured to the dead one he'd come back with, "And we know what they want. Trying to travel in the night will only drive the caravan apart. If we can wait till the morning we can better coordinate our actions...but you'll need to listen to me."

"Why should we?" Another asked with a sneer, "For all we know, you brought them with you! We had no troubles till you and her entered the camp."

There was muttered agreement and Wren scowled.

"Bring all the wagons and horses together, have them encircle the camp. Caravan guards have their weapons ready and bows aimed at the sky. If they come in, the first few shots will matter most. Women and children cram beneath the wagons and those able to fight will communicate. Any movement, any shadow, we report to each other. Alone, the monsters are enough to overcome at least three of us, but if we all pool in together, we can kill them before they sink their fangs into any of us. Circle our camp with torches, it'll force the monsters to land before they engage or at the very least, illuminate their descent."

The merchant who had spoken first before crossed his arms stubbornly. Catching his eye, Wrenmae spun a tapestry of hypnotism to send into his aura. He twisted the threads of fear into a lattice and threaded between them with awe for the easy way Wren had spun out the tactic. Wrapping that with a need for safety and a distinct doubt that half the party could overcome the monsters or navigate successfully by night he sent the whole of it flowing between their eyes.

Blinking, the merchant nodded slowly, the tenseness coming out of his shoulders as his arms lowered. "Perhaps...I was being too hasty," he said, almost surprised at himself for speaking, "Splitting us will only make easier prey...let's listen to what the stranger has to say."

The other merchants, losing a leg of support to stand on, caved as well...more interested in their personal safety than any powerplays for leadership.

Wren nodded, turning and winking at Minerva...and that's when he caught sight of the man in the armor.

Strange, he didn't remember seeing him before...and that armor would have certainly made him stand out among some of the other ill-equipped mercenaries.

Striding over, Wren dipped a short bow.

"Well met," he said first, "I'm Wrenmae...I don't suppose you have some experience with these kinds of situations, do you? I'd appreciate some help from a more....seasoned veteran."

[Accolade]

Dean Tate was the man's name, a hired mercenary to travel with the caravan during this journey. Dean had been down on his luck and hadn't worked a well paying job in some time. With the caravan business and the length of travel, he was sure that he would make much more than his normal pay. But he turned out to be less than what it hoped for.

This pissed him off, and if it wasn't for the fact that he had to complete his job before he was paid, the mercenary would have left the group sometime ago. But now he faced a different problem, he hadn't expected to face such danger and the pay simply wasn't worth it. Dean had thought to run before while the fighting went on, but realized that he still needed his cut.

That's when an idea popped into his mind and he saw a way to make out big and with little effort on his part. He also hadn't expected the new comer to be so strong. Killing a Balicani was no easy task and this man had done it alone. Dean wondered about this man, and what his intentions were, as hard as it was to tell.

"That's good work you done. Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't saw it.. Which I didn't, but good on you."

He tilted his head again and looked towards Minerva. That was what bothered him, he couldn't yet tell what kind of man Wren was, but one look at her and he could see she wasn't a fighter or mercenary. This also made him question what he had to expect from the man in front of him. Could he be trusted? Was he such a good chap?

"You hear them? bickering on like children, I'm surprised that any of them even made it this far. I'll tell you what I know, when those...things come back. Their all going die, and I don't know about you, but I don't plan on going down with them."

He looked about again, making sure that no one was listening in on their conversation. "I say we let the bloody beast have them. Then, after it's all over we, you me and your friend there can scoop up the loot and make off like bandits. What do you say Wrenmae?"

[Wrenmae]

For a moment, he really considered the proposition. The mercenary was an opportunist, as most of their kind were. They straddled the line between thief and guard like walking on a thin wire, it took little more than a stiff breeze to tip them one way or another.

Glancing back toward Minerva, he took her in for a moment. She was tired, exhausted even, and her frame shook slightly in the cool air. With the three of them, perhaps they could navigate one wagon all the way to Ravok...certainly it was possible.

But...

The strong devour the flesh of the weak. Those with power would always control those without it. At a crossroads of fealty, Wren considered his options. He had no personal connection to these people, and certainly if he left them to die...they almost certainly would. The monsters were powerful things, and he didn't have the stamina to keep up with more of them.

But at the same time...

He'd taken too long to answer and his new friend was watching him warily. If Wren turned on him now, the entire caravan would band against him. Thieves were tolerated about as well as the monsters from the sky.

After a moment more, Wren shook his head slowly.

"A couple seasons ago I would have taken your offer, but I have to consider the factors here." He jutted a thumb back at Minerva and then to the others still talking quietly around the fire, "I haven't run this trail before, and I don't know much about the surrounding area. What if we wander into a nest of them? These people are capable of fending off the monsters...but only if they work together in an organized fashion. You. You want to cut and run and hope that the monsters won't seek you out among the gore...but if they are still hungry? What if this party isn't enough? We have more of a chance to survive with more folk than with less."

He turned away from him, crossing his arms, "Choose your battles. This is not the time to play opportunist. Our unknown is an unknowable quantity of powerful creatures. If we don't stop that unknown, all plans made are pointless."

Sighing, he turned back and offered a tired smile.

"Not that the offer isn't tempting. Still, I'd rather known what you know about the creatures themselves...if anything. Besides." His smile turned into a grin, "Those that die here were never strong enough to make it out anyways. You're a survivor, yes? Worry about using the situation to your advantage...the only loser among us is the one that doesn't see the next sunrise."

[Accolade]

Dean wasn't pleased with Wren's answer and frowned while he folded his arms. It was a golden opportunity in his eyes, but nothing he couldn't do on his own as well. He wouldn't start a fight, that would have been a waste of energy and blood. If Wren wanted to stay and be a hero, he would just step away and allow the winged beast to kill him also.

"Well that's too bad. I was rather hoping you had a good head on your shoulders. But I guess we can't all be as smart. Guess that's that then, you go on and be a hero and I'll be here in the morning. But I'll make you a promise, if your friend survives...I'll take good care of her."

He gave Wren a wink and turned away to seek shelter in the shadows of the night. Menawhile Minerva stood over two guards that had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. Their injuries hadn't been deadly, but with two blights in the same place injury turned fatal for some. Most hadn't realized the truth and just assumed their wounds were worse than they thought, but Minerva knew and she figured that Wren would also.

"What manner of...? He was..he was ok. His wounds weren't that bad and now..now!" one man cursed as he tried to make sense of his friend's sudden drop. A few others, non guards were also getting worse. Some had been attacked and their sores had turned to rotting flesh and even those with normal colds were in the early stages of pneumonia. The people were worried scared and started to fear the Gods had turned on them.

Minerva turned away from the group and made her way over to see Wren. The look on her face was as it had been always, but there seemed to be a bit of worry in her eyes now. "Looks like I bring you only trouble Wren, and all I wanted was to get away from all this. Are we stuck here? The men seem to think more of those things are on the way. Is that true?"

There was a very subtle flapping sound in the air as the Balicani returned, both dive bombing into the camp to scare the group, hoping to cause them to scatter for an easy pick off. There were screams and cries as some did just that, while others stayed and huddled together. Dean hovered in the shadows watching it all and keeping his blade at the ready. The beast came around again swooping low for a pick up and racing into the center of the camp. Minerva and another woman turned and ran for their lives, but the woman was picked off, and the force of the sudden push knocked Minerva to the ground.

[Wrenmae]

Wren bit back an urge to slap the girl when she whined at him. He had far more pressing matters than handling the woman's emotions. The Balicani swung overhead again, dipping down to rake their claws at the air and terrify the survivors.

"STAY IN FORMATION!" Wren shouted at the guards and merchants, stalking into the center of the camp and searching the dark sky above them, "You damn fools will be food in their belly if you-" One swooped, knocking Minerva to the ground before grabbing another woman. Wren kept his eyes on where Dean had dropped, not venomously, but with a man like that there was rarely a reason to let him slink too far out of your attention.

The injured died slowly, their wounds putrefying, corrupting. He channeled their cries of pain out, took a deep breath, and dashed from the cover they had made. Minerva was struggling to her feet as the other Balicani wheeled and dived down at her.

Wren drew one of his throwing daggers and hurled it up into the diving creature, tearing its wing and forcing it into a hissing tailspin away from the blond haired Shroud. Wren yanked her up and pushed her back towards the caravan. The Balicani that had taken the woman had long since flown in the darkness, leaving only the injured and Wrenmae.

Both circled each other warily, the Balicani spitting dirt and broken teeth from its unexpected landing in stone and rock. Wren stood with another throwing dagger in hand, holding out a long dagger in case it decided to charge.

The caravan guard watched him warily, too frightened and tired to cheer, only blindly accepting the death that was seeming to unfold before them.

Snarling, the creature seemed to pull back for a moment, but only an instant before lumbering on its short, powerful legs, kicking up mud in its wake, wings outspread.

Wrenmae dove away from it, rolling on his injured arm and crying out as agony leached into his body.

He took to his feet as the Balicani came at him again striking for his body with long teeth and snake-like quickness. Wren swiped his long dagger sideways, catching the edge of the Balicani's strike and sending it over his shoulder. The beast was upon him in an instant, claws scrabbling to pierce his flesh as it drew back its head for another strike.

Wren drove his blade into its neck, pounding it through bone and cartilage till it came out the other end.

Shrieking, the monster withdrew, but not before scything its claws up towards Wren's face, hooking a gash down his chin and catching part of his neck.

His hand pressed against the wound immediately, fearing the rush of blood that heralded a swift and inglorious death. Luckily, it hadn't caught any major artery, though blood squirted through his fingers, ruby red and glistening.

The monster reared back, a devilish light in its eyes and prepared to strike again, but it was interrupted by the hiss of a crossbow bolt that landed in its side. Turning, it glared at the caravan guards hatefully, charging towards them without a moment's hesitation.

Scattering back, crossbow bolts were fired that found no home in Balicani flesh. Dragging himself from the ground, Wren drew another of his throwing dagger and hurled it into the beast.

It wheeled, and one of the caravan guards hit it with another bolt. It turned again, unsure what it hated more, which enemy it most felt like tearing to pieces.

Wren hurled another blade, two caravan guards detached from the circle and surrounded it. One by one they staggered the creature, filled its body with bolts and blades before it finally thrust one last hateful lunge at Wren, falling short and spitting blood before lying still.

The hypnotist circled around it, driving a blade into the back of its skull and twisting.

It twitched, once, then died.

Turning back on the caravan guards, he stumbled into the circle with the fire, collapsing to his knees. His eyes found Minerva, and they were mercilessly unforgiving...at once furious she had run out of the circle he'd built and disappointed in her cowardice.

Just what did Vayt see in her?

"Do you think that's the last of them?" One of the guards asked hesitantly.

"I'd reload," Wrenmae answered grimly. "Not many more we can take before we'll have to cut our losses."

[Accolade]

Minerva moved away from the fire, but her gaze still bore it's reflective wonders. She hid amongst the women who were happy to shelter the young woman, having no idea that they put themselves more at risk the longer they stayed around her. The wary Shroud didn't care herself, her survival was at the front of her mind, and whether she achieved that with Wren, or with these people, it didn't really matter.

It almost surprised her how much she didn't care about the rest of them, but she had decided days ago that she would live no matter what. The cries of the wounded had settled as many of them passed out from pain and were taken by Dira. The only sounds that remained was the weeping of the women, and the yells of the guards as they staged a way to fight off the last of the beast. Minerva watched in awe as Wren expertly took down another of the beast. The man had strength in him and she admired that, but as her young mind continued to spin, one moment his strength was appealing, and the next even he didn't seem like someone that she wanted to be around.

There was another paying very close attention to Wren, Dean watched him from the shadows and the mercenary was impressed, but in the wrong way. The man had planned to take down the caravan and steal all their wares. There had been no better time in history to attack a loaded caravan and make off with tons of loot, and he wasn't going to miss this. But Wren was in the way, and he didn't trust him. So he waited for his moment, and when Wren stumbled back into the circle and dropped to his knees, the mercenary struck.

He came in low and from behind, pulling a curved dagger from his belt as he approached Wren. Dean threw himself against the man's back and dug his blade into his lower back and held it there. The mercenary would ride the wave as Wren struggled, and it wasn't until the guards pulled him off that Wren would get a breath. Dean was slung to the ground hard, and as he turned around, he found two cross bows aimed at his throat. "By the Gods, what did you just do? Traitor! I'll end you now!"

Quickly Dean lifted his arms in defeat and even dropped his dagger. The man stared wide eyed at the two guards as he tried to steady his breath "Wait..wait! You don't understand. That man can't be trusted, he can't. He just tried to get me to join him in his plan. He's going to kill us off after the beasts are gone and make off with the goods!" The guards paused, giving each other a look as well as to Wren before they turned back to Dean. "I-I can't fight like him. None of us can, so I took my best shot while I could. Now do us all a favor and finish him before he finishes us!"

Both guards took a step back, but only one of them kept their crossbow on Dean, the other turned and aimed his at Wren. The mysterious stranger had been very helpful so far, but even he had to admit that none of them knew him, or where he came from. If Wren were to look up, he would see Minerva standing over him, shield and sword in hand. She stared down at him with the same blank, emotionless stare as she did everyone. "Wren? Are you dying?"