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Hareveth: A Forsaken Tale


Valkrae

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Alexis gulps, her eyes widening in fear once again as she's forced to chose between death or pain. Looks like it's the pain-train for her as she reaches out and grabs Gideon's hand, her "skin" instantly starting to let off steam and overwhelming agony hits her, causing her to stumble against Gideon.

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O'Connor simply stared and watched as the others panicked around him, his fists maintained in front of his face.

He knew these elves and shadowy sorcerers weren't to be trusted - a strange, blurry memory reminded him of this, and this only, and he decided to keep his distance from them both.

When the monstrous creature was heard, however, he instantly removed his attention from the smaller threats around him and focused on the shadowy figure forming along the horizon.

He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, ripping his sleeves off of his shirt to form a rough tank top. Having no other place to put them, he tied one of the sleeves around his arm, fashioning an armband of it, and tossed the other to the ground.

He could do nothing but grit his teeth and stare back towards the creature manifesting itself a short distance from the group as he backed up into Inis.

"No weapons?" O'Connor quickly muttered through clenched teeth.

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The Corporal stared at the beast, slowly backing away.

Seeing Inis run, he realized he wasn't going to make it out alive on his own for now, and without another word, he turned around and gripped Cain by his shirt collar, yanking him along with as they sprinted after the others.

"We're falling back!" He finally shouted to the other human as they shot through the grass and leapt over creeks, trying to keep up with the others.

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The group finds cover in the otherwise abandoned village. The creature screeches overhead, apparently not even focused on them in the first place. It screams off into the distance, searching for more worthy prey.



The village itself seems relatively new, with the buildings not suffering much damage over time. Towards the middle of the town, there is what seems to be a marketplace, with various stalls, and to the right of that, a blacksmith. To the left, A large stone temple resides, and right down the center of the marketplace is a large building with no windows.

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Inis steps away from the wall, interposing herself between O'Connor and Cain, her eyes flashing dangerously, "And what exactly would waiting for you have achieved? Other than increasing the chance of us all getting killed? Without weapons we couldn't even attempt to take on something that big, it just isn't feasable; while everyone else ran inside, I stayed at the door, wielding a stick. If that thing had actually had a go at us, I would have been the first, and probably only line of defence stopping it eating an injured ...Woman...? And the man helping her, so if you want to keep having ago, I will just go ahead and remove you from the little internal list I am keeping of people that I consider worth helping; is this getting through, shitskull?" Inis' face is flushed, and her breathing heavy from the tirade, which had been performed at the top of her lungs. "I don't know about you, but the only things I can remember are my name, how to hit things with a stick, and that since I woke up, I have been interrogated by half a dozen people, threatened, chased by some thing, and been forced to sprint across a large stretch of land; so I am in a bad fucking mood, keep up or be left behind; I want to get home as fast as possible, and I would prefer to do it without being accosted at all sides by some pathetic, degenerate, excuse for a human who probably couldn't think his way out of a paper bag!"

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Gideon takes the time to dust off his clothing, seeming entirely unaffected by the outburst. "In any case, the name's Gideon. I am... I was-... I don't recall. While I'd like to stay here and talk more, I'd rather not have those two snatch /all/ the weapons from over there, hmm?". With that, he heads off after Cain, to the smith's.

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Name: Arebur Steelhide.

Age: 22.

Race: Minotaur.

Fears: Losing his honour, being killed in an unworthy manner.

Likes: Honourable combat, hearty food, booze.

Dislikes: Dishonourable opponents, lies.

Short Backstory: A huge minotaur, one of the many sons of a minotaur tribe, he was taught to fight from an early age. His hands and horns became weapons, and he was brought up on the minotaur's strict code of honour and combat. During a tribal skirmish, he was locked in mortal combat with another bull minotaur, when there was a soft pop and the raging battle disappeared, to be replaced with this new setting.

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