Private The invasion of the Damned

[lbrasz44]

The bandit that just got dazed the puched never stood a chance. As the man wiped his mouth and turned to look at his enemy, his eyes grew wide seeing a blade already swung at him horizontally.

Thorral watched the head lop off and roll away, smiling to himself. Althought that was for a moment when he sees another bandit charge straight at him. From the momemtum of the last swing, the greatsword was to his left side pointing down with his main arm- the right- across his body. This was the perfect position to seamlessly move from the swing and into a lunging stab, which was exactly what Thorral did. The blade pierces through the bandit, stopping in his tracks, blood already starting to drip from his mouth. The bandit then slid off and into the ground as a bloody heap of mess.

Its been a while since I've done good combo... smiled Thorral as he moved on to the next batch of bandits.

 

[cazzer14]

Cyrus lay in the three-man tent with Edwyn and Jaygue. All awake. All alert, as was their custom. Through their experience, they had learnt that danger, whatever form it took, could come from anywhere, at any time, such was their horrid luck most times. Cyrus was about to speak to Edwyn, about to make an attempt at time-passing, idle conversation when a piercing scream echoed in the cramped shelter.

The trio all turned to look towards the source of the sound. Jaygue had been sat releaxed, resting his eyes, but now he sat up, sword drawn, Edwyn was just as ready to fight. They all heard Geran cry out ''Wake up you fools! A Clan of Bandits approach!''. The three of the elite members all burst out of the tent, and took defensive positions alongside their superior. The bandits kept running towards them, fearless in their desperation of money and lust to kill things. They paused momentarily when they saw the rest of the Witchers amass behind the four leaders, but they continued their charge nonetheless.

When Geran, Jaygue and Edwyn went for their own selected targets, Cyrus ran towards the enemy, heading straight for a large Nord brigand wielding a large battleaxe. He sprinted fearless, without hesitation, without any weapons. For a moment, the Nord wondered exactly what the hell Cyrus was planning to do, but he found out as a elbowed clothesline struck his throat, tearing the jugular and killing him in an instant. One down.

Another bandit diverted his charge when he saw Cyrus, and ran towards him with a shortsword. He swung horizontally at Cyrus' stomach, and was surprised when his blow didn't connect, as Cyrus dodged the strike by sidestepping. He followed up his dodge with a counter-strike, using one arm to grab the bandit's shoulder, pulling him into a incoming elbow strike going for the brigand's face.

Stunned, the bandit was vulnerable to being manipulated, and Cyrus used this opportunity to grab the murderer's sword arm, and force it into the holder's stomach, warm blood oozing out of the wound, before the man collapsed dead, the cold and snow consuming his corpse. Two down.

A third bandit came from behind Cyrus, looking to get a cheap stab in whilst he was occupied, although he too was confused when Cyrus turned to parry the stab with his forearm, the armour especially reinforced there, so he could block such attacks. With the same arm he used to parry with, he followed the retracting sword with his arm, pushing it and the bandit's arm down. He grabbed the brigand's hand and used the sword to slice the bandit's own leg, bringing him crying to the ground, and releasing the sword.

Lying in agony, nursing his gushing cut, the man looked up to Cyrus as he struck the sword into his heart. The screams immediately ceased. Cyrus took this brief time of not-fighting to look around. Everyone one else in the guild seemed to be doing fine, killing their own bandits. Cyrus tried to count how many brigands were left alive, when he felt a searing, painful prick in his arm.

He turned to look at the source of the stinging, to see that he had an arrow stuck out of his arm, crimson dripping, squeezing out from where the arrow had pierced. He didn't know where it came from, but he winced as he snapped the arrow in half, so only a little bit was sticking out of the wound. That would hurt more later, when it needed to be pulled out and sterilised.

He jogged to a bunch of bandits crowding around one of his fellow Witchers, and prepared himself for another skirmish.

 

[meben15]

As the man with the dagger slumped to the ground Jaygue spun around, trying to deflect the sword stroke of his other attacker. It seemed like many of the remaining bandits had decided to swarm him, Geran, and the others fighting on the central line. The mans thrust his sword at Jaygue with a suprising speed, however he managed to deflect most of the blow due to his lightning fast reflexes. The sword did graze his right shoulder however, bouncing off his ebony chainmail and inflicting a small bruise.

The bandit had obivously anticipated the attack to be a killing blow, beacause he was now overextended due to the angle that Jaygue had deflected his attack. Quickly Jaygue countered in a series of lightning blows. The bandit hardly managed to block the first two and on the third Jaygue managed to pin the mans sword to the ground. Before he could even think of backing off to realease his sword Jaygue's gauntleted fist came flying towards his face wreathed in silver flames. As it connected the mans head exploded, splattering blood and gore everywhere.

Jaygue had little time to revel in his victory however, as another bandit charged at him with a mace. With his sword lowered to the ground, Jaygue had little time to react so he attemted to sidestep the swing, raising his sword to deflect. He almost managed to do it, but when he deflected the mace it clipped the side of his head, making his vision blur and blood drip down into his right eye. Thinking he had all but won the bandit swung at him again in a frezy. Despite his injury, Jaygue was able to pary each blow instinctively. As he backed of slightly he began to recover from the injury, turning the tide on the bandit and begining his counter attack.

 

[Mini Mongo]

Geran and the guild were fighting bravely against the numerous horde of Bandits, every now and again a vast number of arrows would shoot at the Guild, meaning they would need to duck for a moment.
Their was nine Bandits remaining and Geran was fighting of a Nord, he carried a shield and sword both being steel and full steel armor apart, apart his helmet.
He was a tough opponent but not much of a challenge against Geran, the Bandit then charged swinging his sword then knocking Geran back onto the ground with his shield.

For a moment Geran laid still, lifeless but then he regained his senses as the bandit was about to make a killing blow on Geran.
Geran rolled to the right dodging the sword and grabbing the bandits hand pulling him down to the ground.
Geran then rolled over onto the bandit, his knee's on the mans wrist so he couldn't counter, and Geran began to hit the man constantly with his fist, the blows badly hurting the Bandit causing much pain due to the ebony gauntlets. Finally the man laid lifeless and Geran un-sheathed his dagger, he raised it high into the air and brang it down onto the Bandit head, finally killing the foe.

Geran then stood as another bandit charged at him, before coming into contact he threw the dagger piercing into the mans shoulder, Geran then picked up his greatsword and swung it will full fury, bringing the blade crushing down onto the Bandit.
Two more bandits lay dead, and the remaining men ran into the blizzard hiding from the Guild, usually now they would chase down the Bandit but instead stood still.
As the Bandit's disappeared in the blizzard a huge amount of screams began to echo in the wind, it was surely the Bandits being killed.........but by what.

Geran tiled his head looking at the remaining men, unfortunately during the fight another Witcher had died, which angered Geran as in only 10 minutes two of his great Witchers lie dead.
His glared into the mist, raising his blade far in the air as the men cheered of victory.
But the screams stopped them, as a huge figure began to emerge.......it was a werewolf.
Geran was shocked for a moment, but stood ready for battle. He un-sheathed his silver greatsword.
''Prepare men! A werewolf approaches us. Show him why you are my witchers!'' he shouted at the height of his voice.

They were fine, eager for battle. Not even tired from the prior battle, some were wounded but fine with another battle.
He looked at Cyrus and Edwyn, they were prepared, then Jaygue who merely looked angry ready to kill the scum.
In a way Geran was happy, smiling at the thought of the Bandit being killed, but his smile dimmed as the werewolf began to sprint towards the Guild members, Geran stood at the front prepared for battle.

 

[MissingOne123]

Ambrosia slammed her sword through the neck of her enemy, snarling fiercely as he fell to the ground, his moans of agony turning into low, wet gurgles as blood dripped from his mouth. She yanked her blade free again, giving the body a harsh kick before stepping away from the blood-soaked mound. She lifted her head, squinting as she strained to see through the darkness.

She watched as Geran fell to the ground with another foe, and was ready to fire another pillar of ice towards the quarrel when the bandit raised his sword and readied himself for the killing blow, though Geran was faster. They rolled through the snow until the guildmaster had him pinned and swiftly ended his life. Huffing, she dropped the ice forming in her hands and turned around. A figure loomed in the distance, large and hunched over.

She curled her lip, taking cautious steps back as she put her palms together. At the first sound of "Werewolf" she attacked. The flames in her hands casted long shadows across the snow as it soared through the air, hurtling towards the furry monstrosity. It struck the werewolf's lower torso, scorching the surrounding fur and burning it's flesh.

Glancing to the side, she eyed her stinging shoulder, the sleeve of her robe caked with scarlet. Cringing, she pressed a hand over the wound. Within seconds her fingertips lit up with magic, warm light engulfing the injury and removing the gruesome gash, leaving only a dull ache in it's place. She shook it off and straightened up, bending her knees as she backed further away. Her spells always worked better at farther distances, while her sword was used for close combat.

 

[meben15]

As Jaygue retaliated the bandit he was fighting looked panicked. With two powerful sword strokes Jaygue beat down the mans defenses and slashed his throat. The remaining bandits ran away at the overpowering might of the Witchers. Jaygue looked to see that one more of there number had fallen to the renegades. He scowled, this contract was already going wrong.

As the bandits ran into the mist, Jaygue heard screaming. Whiping the blood out of his eyes Jaygue gripped his blade tighter as he cast his gaze into the mist, searching for the creatures attacking the bandits. Then out of the mist came a huge, hulking monsterous creature. Jaygue recognized it as a werewolf. As soon as the beast became visible Ambrosia threw a ball of fire, hitting the creature in its midsection. The beast howled in pain and Charged towards her with amazing speed. Thorral atempted to stop the creature, but as soon as he made contact with it the creature just smacked him aside like he was nothing. Jaygue was amazed the beast was able to throw aside the big man, this was a powerful creature indeed. Quickly Jaygue conjured his own ball of silver flames, hurling them at the beast. It yelped as the fire hit it in the shoulder, turning to look at Jaygue with its dark, feral eyes. Jaygue charged towards the beast, holding his katana in both hands.

 

[lbrasz44]

The fight with the bandits went along easily with the rest of the witchers that remained alive holding off the bandits until they retreated. Looking around, Thorral realized that another witcher has fallen. Meridia guide you brother. Thought Thorral as he went to close the man eyes. Then there was a howl.

Turning around, a werewolf stood not to far from the witchers. Laughing out loud yelling, "I love a challenge!" Thorral then ran straight at the beast. This particular one was huge, and even though another witcher casted a flame spell, it didn't seem to bother it too much.

Thorral was determined to take down the beast with his sword raised high and charging mercilessly. The werewolf was close now. Not stopping the charge he begain to clench his arm and shoulder muscles, preparing to swing his blade down but then... the werewolf simply swiped his claw, hitting Thorral at his side and sent him flying to the ground in the most anit-climatic fashion.

Thorral was lying his back and barely used his elbows to raise his upper body slightly up with a dazed look. This werewolf just flung aside like I was nothing?! Then with his vision slightly blurring due to the force to the hit, Thorral layed back down. Yeah I'm out of this fight... too hurt...might as well rest a bit.

 

[MissingOne123]

Ambrosia continued backing away, careful to keep a fair distance between she and the beast. She winced as Thorral was thrown, watching as he struggled to get back to his feet. The werewolf was proving to be a fierce enemy, though she was confident that they would be able to take care of it.

She summoned another blast of flames, her aim off. It flew straight past it's head, barely searing the end of it's fur. Cursing, she glanced over as Jaygue began attacking head-on. She tensed, clenching her jaw. Did he not learn from how Thorral was tossed?

She shook her head, pushing the thought away. The other Witcher was fine, by the looks of it. Nothing to worry about. They were all strong warriors, and could take care of themselves in battle.

Sparks formed in the palm of her hand, shooting forward in a chain of blues and purples, bright against the darkness of the night. She struck the werewolves chest, sending the electric currents across it's body. She watched as the creature twitched, too preoccupied with the searing lightning against it's flesh to care much for Jaygue and the way he was charging forward with his weapon out.

 

[Star Gazer]

The Jester climbed the nearest tree to spend the night. Sure Geran offered him a tent, but he found trees to be much more comfortable. He saw the bandits coming from a mile away. "A pack of bandits, how bizarre! Time to see how brave they are!" He whispered, sad at the loss of his lute. He watched as they came closer to the camp, and struck at a sleeping witcher. Everyone woke up, and both groups fought mercilessly. The Jester watched as a couple of witchers died, and the bandit force was stopped. There was a howl in the distance, and The Jester heard the pitter-patter of many feet. A whole pack of wolves were charging towards the group! When wolves encounter an enemy, the alpha-dog picks on the weakest link to attack. A single howl was heard, and he saw only one wolf attacking. It seemed like this tactic was used by werewolves as well. It knocked one of them to the ground, and took a lightning-bolt to the chest, but didn't do any more than flinch.

 

[Mini Mongo]

Geran charged forward bringing his silver greatsword down heavily into the werewolves shoulder, to his surprise it didn't go far perhaps only 1 inch, this Werewolf truly was from a large and tough pack.
As he brought his blade out of the Werewolf it went for a blow against Geran, only just missing him as he dodged the attack Geran managed to counter attack swooping his greatsword to the werewolves legs, making it howl out in pain.
The werewolf then brang it's arm up heavily smacking Geran back on the ground.
Geran saw the Werewolf about to jump onto Geran and he only just managed to get his greatsword, making it act like a pike as the Werewolf jumped into it, the wound went deep into the Werewolf but steel alive he turned and fell back.

It then returned after say a minute, Geran only just able to see the trail of blood, this way he could get his sword back, and then the Werewolf came out of the mist again.
Geran had only just been able to get back up, extremely tired from being weighed down by the heavy armor Jaygue managed to help him up.
Geran stood able, his steel greatsword at the ready as a counter measure the beast charged at Geran sprinting towards him Jaygue managed to spread out his weapon on the ground making the beast tumble to the floor before getting to Geran, it now laid on the floor helpless.
Geran glared at the beast ''Prepare to die!'' he shouted then looked at Jaygue.

It was then that Geran and Jaygue exchanged looks, Geran was tired and badly wounded and Jaygue probably heavily bruised from being knocked down as well.
Geran and Jaygue brang their weapons up into the air, both hitting into the beasts neck and head almost at the exact same time, killing the beast.
Geran smiled under his helmet, Jaygue stayed emotionless but was probably proud of the kill in his head.
All the Witchers fighting of the beast perhaps had weakened it, but it was then that the entire guild stood in shock.
A pack of 5 werewolves were sprinting to the guilds direction, anger in the eyes one stood out obvious to the rest, a huge bulking Werewolf, probably the pack leader.
Geran then saw the Jester by his side, ready to kill the pack leader, Jaygue and Ambrosia stood ready and the rest of the guild prepared for the 3rd attack within 30 minutes to begin.

 

[Star Gazer]

The Jester hopped down from the tree. With the one wolf dead, many others came. He saw Geran approaching him from behind. The Jester charged towards the pack, and they charged towards him. They were both going full-speed, and the Jester winked at them, turning invisible before they collided. The wolves attacked the air where they saw him last.

 

[meben15]

Jaygue grimaced as they finished the beast. As they turned around five more werewolves apeared out of the mist, one a great hulking pack leader. Jaygue flexed his shoulders, trying to shrug of the pain of the werewolfs paw hiting him. He thought his shoulder might be dislocated but there was no time to worry about that now. Stepping over the body of the creature Jaygue stood by Geran's side, making shure to put himself between Ambrosia and the pack. She would be of no use to the group if the werewolves got to her. He also looked to were Thorral lay on the ground, he would be fine as long as the wolves didn't attack him now. It was doubtful they would do so with so many other more dangerous victims.

 

[Mini Mongo]

Geran ran behind the werewolf pack leader and stabbed his sword into it's neck, not even penetrating it's skin, Geran was in shock by the strength of the werewolf.
It was clear to him now it couldn't die without a silver sword, and no other guild members had one.
Without thinking Geran ran into the mist being chased by the Pack leader, he managed to pick up his silver greatsword and instantly turned swinging his weapon, luckily it managed to push the werewolf back in time.
He swung it again only just penetrating the skin of the Pack Leaders rib.
Then against he went for a counter hit with great strength slicing the Werewolf right into it's upper arm, the blade managing to get quite far into it's skin Geran knew it's weakness and would take advantage.
But before having a chance to strike again the Werewolf swung it's great hand against Geran, not only making him stumble from the voice but the claws managing to cut into the ebony.

Geran went for another swing but the werewolf managed to dodge and hit Geran again, his arm hit badly, as he went for another hit to the Werewolves upper arm it did not have the same effect and merely only just pierced the creatures skin.
At this point Geran's mind wandered the how the guild was faring against the werewolves as he heard a loud scream from a Witcher, a cry for help then a great thud. Geran heard as the merciless werewolf began to rip into the Witchers body, he looked up into the stars mumbling under his breath ''Meridia guide me, give me the strength to kill this beast.''
As he finished his sentence the beast ran into Geran knocking him over and came back for another run.
For once, Geran thought his end would come. And merely closed his eyes.

 

[meben15]

Jaygue backed up slightly at the werewolfs charge. Geran ran to retrive his silver sword as four of the werewolves charged the other guildmembers. One Came at Jaygue, who was blocking its path to Ambrosia. The beast had obvously seen her cast magic at its fallen comrad and wanted to make shure she didn't get the opportunity again.

As the beast charged Jaygue stood in its path, ducking to the side at the last second and chopping at its stomach. It howled at him, siezing him in its great claws. When it raised Jaygue into the air, intent on tearing him in two, Jaygue growled back at it kicking it in the face several times. When that seemed to only annoy it he summoned up all his strength and coujured a whirling tempest of flames around himself. Yelping the wolf dropped him and he stabbed it in the chest. To his dismay the creature was not very hurt by the strike at all. He simply raised himself up, snarling and ready to kill. Jaygue, laying on the ground, his body battered by many wounds, raised his sword in a vain attept to ward off the claws of the beast.

 

[Star Gazer]

A werewolf gnawed on one of the witcher's bodies, and let out a long roar as The Jester appeared and sliced at his vulnerable throat. It made a clean incision as the werewolf fell backwards, clutching his neck with his claws. The two other werewolves charged for The Jester as Geran took on their leader and Jaygue was pinned by another. The Jester threw his dagger, hitting one in the chest. The werewolf pulled it out and charged, throwing the small blade to the ground behind him. The Jester climbed up the tree he was once in. It's leafy branches made him almost invisible, but the bells on his clothes gave him away. They followed the jingling of bells.

 

[MissingOne123]

Ambrosia watched as Jaygue and Geran finished off the beast, keeping her muscles tense and acutely aware of her surroundings. She stole glances at each direction, ready to attack. Her eyes followed the Jester as he leaped from a tree and charged down the pack, weaponless. She frowned, her eyebrows knit in confusion. What was he thinking? She was about to yell, tell him to get his idiotic self back, when he vanished. Her jaw fell, hanging open as she shook her head and looked away from the two werewolves fighting among themselves, begrudgingly respecting the Jester just a bit more for pulling something as daring as that.

She returned her attention to the other werewolves, pushing past their defense and wrecking havoc, leaving battered and bloodied Witchers in their wake. Straightening up, she shot another pillar of ice towards one of the nearby monsters, the sharp end piercing it's flesh. The werewolf gave a cry, clawing at the ice frantically until it fell to the ground, shattering into many smaller shards at it's clawed feet. Enraged, the thing charged towards her, falling onto all fours and quickly picking up speed.

Sucking in a breath, Ambrosia continued backing away, shooting ice at the monster. It staggered and tripped, growing angrier with every hit, and gaining with every miss. Cursing, Ambrosia drew her sword and planted her feet firmly on the ground, bracing herself.

The werewolf swung a massive paw, scoring a hit at her thigh, and Ambrosia smashed the hilt of her sword against the side of it's head in return. It growled menacingly, stunned long enough for Ambrosia to strike again, her flaming sword cutting through the air and slicing at it's arms. She slashed and dodged, refusing to accept the pain until the deed was done. The wolf man reared, intending to smash it's weight down on top of the smaller mage, though a look of terror took over it's face as she thrust her sword arm into the air. The blade pierced through it's body, the end sticking out of its back. With a great heave and a grunt, she clutched the handle with both hands and managed to shove the creature off of her and slam it's shoulder into the ground.

It gave a howl of agony and lashed out once more, it's claws raking along her sides. Snarling, she yanked out the blade again. She stabbed at it's chest, watching emotionlessly as the blood leaked out, dying the snow around her feet red. Once the thing was dead, she yanked her sword free and backed away, limping and breathing hard. Her robes were ripped, some places soaked in blood the blood of her enemies, others her own. Everything was cold and numb, but she pressed forward, refusing to feel the pain until afterwards.

Gritting her teeth, she sheathed her sword at her hip and pulled herself back up and scanned the area. Swallowing hard, she pressed a hand to her side and looked at the blood seeping through the fabric. Wincing, she looked away and bit down on her lip, feeling too drained to do anything about her wound. She'd just have to patch it up like the rest of the guild once the fight was over.

 

[Star Gazer]

The beast of a werewolf had Geran pinned in his place, and Geran was pushing his jaw away from his throat. The Jester watched as Jaygue and Ambrosia killed theirs. There were only two now, the leader, and the one pursuing The Jester. He jumped off the tree-branch onto the beast's back, jabbing his red and blue ebony dagger into the wolf's skull. The carcass fell onto Geran and brought the Jester down with it. The final werewolf grabbed the jester's clothes and carried him away, the maniacal clown laughing while being dragged.

 

[cazzer14]

Cyrus heard a ear-piercing, unmistakable scream of sheer horror, primal agony, followed by the equally unmistakable sound of a howl. A werewolf's howl. He turned around and felt a bolt of fear shoot through his body, momentarily, but the feeling was still there. He shook it out of his system though, and replaced it with the eternal courage a Witcher was trained to have implemented in his emotions all of the time, whatever they were up against.

As good as he was in unarmed combat, he didn't fancy his chanced going toe-to-toe against a feral lycanthrope with his bare knuckles. Despite his nature, Cyrus forced himself to take a more supportive role. He needed to sit this one out, and hope that the rest of the Witchers could deal with it. The combination of a huge disadvantage and the pain of his arrow-wound seeping in due to the used-up reserves of adrenalin meant that he was incapable of participating in this fight.

Cyrus decided to make use of himself though, and scouted the area for any injured Witchers that had fallen in battle. He instantly caught sight of a Breton girl holding a huge gash on her arm, and a stab wound in her abdomen. Cyrus went over to her and proceeded dragged her into the shelter by her shoulders, clutching her armour and pulling her through the bloodied snow. He winced in pain as the movement caused agony in his injured arm.

Once he had he rested in the shelter, the fire still ablaze in the cold, disturbed night, he touched her cheek and slid his hand down to her neck, to try and find a pulse. She was still alive. Just. Cyrus headed back outside to where the rest of the Witchers were holding off the Werewolf. He had a huge smile as they had slain the beast. He congratulated them on their kill;

"Ha! And I heard Werewolves were tou-"

His sentence cut short as he, as did all of the other triumphant Witchers, turned to see a pack of 5 stronger, bigger Werewolves appear from over the hill, howling loud and charging fast toward the group. One was clearly more elite than the other four, obviously the alpha-male. As each werewolf chose their own targets, Cyrus crouched down, werewolf-less, and thought about what he could do to help slay the vicious beasts. Normal swords barely scratched the werewolves' tough skin, his fists were even worse of an idea to use.

He glanced over and saw that Jaygue had been pinned down by his own personal beast, and was about to have his face realigned by a savage cosmetic surgeon. Cyrus quickly rose to his feet and ran toward the creature, his sense of bravery larger than his common sense. Without any other split-second ideas in his head, he drop-kicked the beast in it's side. Surprisingly, the blow was forceful enough for it to be knocked to the snow, it's hind legs blindly kicking and it's howl... howling in confusion and bewilderment.

Cyrus lay on the ground, sat up to face the beast as he watched it rise up and growl at him, malevolent red eyes staring into his. It charged straight for him, ignoring its previous target as it headed toward its improvising assailant. Cyrus scuttled to his feet desperately as he did the only thing his primal instincts could let him do.

Run.

He sprinted past several barrels, and looked over his shoulder as the beast burst through them, there was nothing that was stopping it getting to its prey, a determined vengeance in the otherwise goalless monster. Cyrus continued to scamper for his life, his feet sinking into the snow with each step. He turned the corner of a wooden shack in the woods, and found silence. Complete silence.

Cyrus panted for a while, looking around for the beast. No sign of the drooling, deadly creature was visible, audible or apparent in anyway. he heard manic laughter in the distance, echoing in the mountain air. The laugh of the Jester, no doubt about it, it made him cringe in the same way.

The wooden shack burst into splinters, and the werewolf, even more enraged and increasingly so, roared in frustration and commenced another pursuit on Cyrus, who in turn high-tailed it the other way, dodging trees and hopping over fallen branches, snow clinging onto the decaying wood. He hoped he was fast enough, he could hear the beast's panting just behind his head, and he could feel the warmth of its saliva dripping from its canine teeth.

He ran faster then he ever had before.

 

[Mini Mongo]

Geran pushed the body of him, glad he was saved but rather shocked by his savior. The werewolf was still slightly moving, but only by a small line, and Geran stabbed the Werewolf, putting it out of it's misery.
He stopped praying and stood, charging into the Werewolf that had grabbed the Jester Geran swung his mighty Greatsword but only cutting the beasts neck, which appeared to be a sever weakness. As it bled badly.
With the werewolf pack dealt with Geran sheathed his sword.
Geran then walked from the mist to see another Witcher dead, teared apart from the beasts. Geran walked up to her, even though teared limb from limb he went down to crouching level, kissing her lightly on the forehead then slightly raising his mouth and whispering to her ''Meridia guide you, may she bless you in the afterlife. Or doom you to hell''

He then stood up and saluted her, the Witcher was in a incredibly bad state, her legs torn badly and torso bitten three times or so.
Geran then picked the Witcher's body up over his shoulder and put it next to the fire, gathering the other to bodies and doing the same respects.
Though ''the Whisper'' as the Guild called it sounded harsh, all Guild members knew of the meaning.
It was considered that Meridia would bless you if you stuck to the ruling of the Guild Master, and it would carry on for the Guilds life.
If you stuck to the ruling, Meridia would guide and bless you, if you broke your tenant to Meridia and service to the Guild Master you would be doomed to hell, to service her in the realm of Oblivion.
He then called over Cyrus and Jaygue, then walked to Geran and saluted the dead then looked at Geran
''Burn the carcuses and give them their rights as all the Guild Members will, we leave in a hour.''

Geran then walked to his tent and sat in their, writing a new entry in his journal.
He thought about the ones who had fought and died.........or the poor Witcher who never even got a chance.
Then his mind returned to how all fought so bravely against 20 bandits and 5 werewolves, hee was still shocked by the fact the Jester had saved him, but relived that in his mind he was clearly meaning well.
Though a utter madman Geran was thank-full, he would of owed him if he hadn't of stolen his food, but never-mind.
The Guild would have to rescue the Jester later, but for now they waited.

 

[lbrasz44]

Vision blurred and ears ringing, Thorral was still dazed as he tried to stand up, his bance clearly off. Damn... lucky shot for that beast. Stumbling a little bit, he noticed that not only that the one werewolf that blindsighted him with its claw was dead, there were 5 five more carcass' lying motionless on the ground. There were more? How the hell did we survive this one? Looking over, he noticed one more witcher dead. A girl, torn to pieces. Guess I got lucky...

Walking with a limp, he made his way back to the group. It apparent that everyone looked like hell, similar to himself. Ambrosia was riddled with gashes, the masters with a few cuts and wounds themselves... everyone got hit hard at least once.

''Burn the carcuses and give them their rights as all the Guild Members will, we leave in a hour.''
Thorral then gave the dead their rights and made his way back to camp to get his horse and belongings. The walk up the hill took longer than it should have, with Thorral's head pounding at each step. He would love to just lie down and take the day off, but the guild was supposed to start their assignment today. The previous fight a major distraction. It made Thorral wonder about the guild. If we barely held our own against some werewolves and bandits, how are we going to even survive the next month? Almost half of us are gone already and we haven't even made it to our first destination that was supposed to be 10 minutes away!

Struggling upon his horse, Thorral knew that his time in the guild will be filled with uncertainty in the future.