Morus
11-09-11, 02:23 AM
Open to anyone. Post when you like and how you like. I'm not looking for anything deep in this thread, just zombie killing action and activity for the site. Any questions can be PMed to me or mentioned in this thread (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?23638-Corpses-from-the-Copses&p=191965#post191965).
Concordia clung to secrecy like Vesta to her veil; the more one explored, the more the mystery asserted its dominance. Under the blanket of Nox, every cracking tree branch and soft whistle in the night took on a more sinister shape. The trees were no longer symbols of a lush and thriving forest, but tall pillars of portentous perfidy packed steadfast in their place; foreboding edifices emptying wayfarers of their wits. The warm, cloudless sky above was unobservable through the thicket of dark, damp leaves. Every step encased one's foot in caked mud, and fell trees and sharp rocks made the trek deplorable. Only a desperate fool would fumble into such an inhospitable environment.
Traveling through Concordia, Morus found himself, as ever, drawn to danger by necessity.
As he slept the night before, the oneiromancer entered the ethereal plane. Morus sought answers through dream, but answers came from questions. The dreaming warned of great peril; screaming it with such agitation that the auspices could not be ignored. Through sleeps eyes the boy had happened upon the name of one hamlet, Tamora, nearly twenty or so miles from the edge of the forest. He had awoken the next morning in a cold sweat. With dawn's horizon crawling overhead, he set off for remoter regions of the forest, arriving at his destination just before noon. Tamora was a shanty town at best; tents lined beaten paths and the population conspicuously looked conspicuously uniform. As soon as he had stepped into view, Morus felt the stare of every person on him. Still, they did have problems and they promised a tidy sum if the urchin could solve them, dubious though they were by his lackluster appearance. A wolf had attacked the town the night of Morus' dream. From the frantic retelling of each toothless villager, it was a monstrous black beast of staggering size. It was a wolf like none had seen before, and before an alarm could be raised, it had killed their livestock and carried off an infant into the brush. They tracked it as best they could, but were all too fearful to continue as the reached the outline of an disused fort. There was no doubt among them that the creature denned on the perimeter.
And so the boy had walked for hours until the sun had set, though his path had been darkened before that. The villagers had given him a map of the area and babbled instructions, but he had somehow managed to get lost. His despondency grew into a single obsessive thought each time he stubbed his toe on a rock. His shivers intensified with each new, strange noise that could not be explained away with the wind. The bleak blackness seemed all encompassing as the urchin blindly felt tree trunk after tree trunk. His stomach's violent protests seemed to finally crush his spirit. But with that echoing growl came dim sight from the clearing up ahead. Where the trees were sparser, masoned stone and hewed wood made the crude outline of a once remarkable outpost. Fort Williams, the locals had said, strangely knowledgeable in its route and history.
A smile broke on his lips as he hastened his pace into the clearing. Moonlight broke through the canopy above, highlighting the grim state of disrepair the buildings were in. Timbers of once proud palisades had toppled into ramps for easy access over the stone foundation. Cracks in the ground appeared all around where earthen works collapsed, no doubt from an unsuccessful sap attempt. As the boy stepped carefully on splintered logs, he could tell both roofs had collapsed on the barracks opposite each other. The only structures that had weathered the decay to any degree were a small wooden watchtower in the center of the grounds, and a small stone citadel towards the rear.
However, with each new beam of light came the realization that a heavy mist was forming with unnatural speed. The air around was scented with rot that burned the back of the boy's throat. His eyes and ears frantically attempted to perceive some cause for the sudden change. Slowly, like the beat of a powerful drum, he heard hobbling footsteps drag nearer and nearer. The gaps in the palisade bore witness to stumbling figures; shrouded black shapes that released a low groan the closer they came. Soon the empty fort began to fill with a sea of vague creatures.
Morus ran to climb the watchtower, thankfully reaching it before the mist obscured the ladder. Though the metal rods creaked, the boy's frame was not enough to break them. At the top, the ground below was masked so throughly that the urchin was still unsure of the type or number of his attackers, only that their combined chorus of noises grew maddening. Trapped though he was, he looked frantically about him for some source of hope. A few planks of spare pine and a hammer rested near his feet. Should any monster venture up, he was prepared to defend himself with every once of feeble force.
But a subtle sway began to form in the tower.
Concordia clung to secrecy like Vesta to her veil; the more one explored, the more the mystery asserted its dominance. Under the blanket of Nox, every cracking tree branch and soft whistle in the night took on a more sinister shape. The trees were no longer symbols of a lush and thriving forest, but tall pillars of portentous perfidy packed steadfast in their place; foreboding edifices emptying wayfarers of their wits. The warm, cloudless sky above was unobservable through the thicket of dark, damp leaves. Every step encased one's foot in caked mud, and fell trees and sharp rocks made the trek deplorable. Only a desperate fool would fumble into such an inhospitable environment.
Traveling through Concordia, Morus found himself, as ever, drawn to danger by necessity.
As he slept the night before, the oneiromancer entered the ethereal plane. Morus sought answers through dream, but answers came from questions. The dreaming warned of great peril; screaming it with such agitation that the auspices could not be ignored. Through sleeps eyes the boy had happened upon the name of one hamlet, Tamora, nearly twenty or so miles from the edge of the forest. He had awoken the next morning in a cold sweat. With dawn's horizon crawling overhead, he set off for remoter regions of the forest, arriving at his destination just before noon. Tamora was a shanty town at best; tents lined beaten paths and the population conspicuously looked conspicuously uniform. As soon as he had stepped into view, Morus felt the stare of every person on him. Still, they did have problems and they promised a tidy sum if the urchin could solve them, dubious though they were by his lackluster appearance. A wolf had attacked the town the night of Morus' dream. From the frantic retelling of each toothless villager, it was a monstrous black beast of staggering size. It was a wolf like none had seen before, and before an alarm could be raised, it had killed their livestock and carried off an infant into the brush. They tracked it as best they could, but were all too fearful to continue as the reached the outline of an disused fort. There was no doubt among them that the creature denned on the perimeter.
And so the boy had walked for hours until the sun had set, though his path had been darkened before that. The villagers had given him a map of the area and babbled instructions, but he had somehow managed to get lost. His despondency grew into a single obsessive thought each time he stubbed his toe on a rock. His shivers intensified with each new, strange noise that could not be explained away with the wind. The bleak blackness seemed all encompassing as the urchin blindly felt tree trunk after tree trunk. His stomach's violent protests seemed to finally crush his spirit. But with that echoing growl came dim sight from the clearing up ahead. Where the trees were sparser, masoned stone and hewed wood made the crude outline of a once remarkable outpost. Fort Williams, the locals had said, strangely knowledgeable in its route and history.
A smile broke on his lips as he hastened his pace into the clearing. Moonlight broke through the canopy above, highlighting the grim state of disrepair the buildings were in. Timbers of once proud palisades had toppled into ramps for easy access over the stone foundation. Cracks in the ground appeared all around where earthen works collapsed, no doubt from an unsuccessful sap attempt. As the boy stepped carefully on splintered logs, he could tell both roofs had collapsed on the barracks opposite each other. The only structures that had weathered the decay to any degree were a small wooden watchtower in the center of the grounds, and a small stone citadel towards the rear.
However, with each new beam of light came the realization that a heavy mist was forming with unnatural speed. The air around was scented with rot that burned the back of the boy's throat. His eyes and ears frantically attempted to perceive some cause for the sudden change. Slowly, like the beat of a powerful drum, he heard hobbling footsteps drag nearer and nearer. The gaps in the palisade bore witness to stumbling figures; shrouded black shapes that released a low groan the closer they came. Soon the empty fort began to fill with a sea of vague creatures.
Morus ran to climb the watchtower, thankfully reaching it before the mist obscured the ladder. Though the metal rods creaked, the boy's frame was not enough to break them. At the top, the ground below was masked so throughly that the urchin was still unsure of the type or number of his attackers, only that their combined chorus of noises grew maddening. Trapped though he was, he looked frantically about him for some source of hope. A few planks of spare pine and a hammer rested near his feet. Should any monster venture up, he was prepared to defend himself with every once of feeble force.
But a subtle sway began to form in the tower.