in darkest nightReplies: 8 / 61 days 4 hours 31 minutes 55 seconds
- [Allowed] Loxi
[center [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWruBwPNBOs ♫]]
[center [pic http://i.imgur.com/twRP0k6.jpg]]
[center [b [size20 Hidden deep within thick, dark woods lies the village of Brynham.]]]
[center The inhabitants of this town and the surrounding forest call themselves Brynfolk. They are stout, stoic and hardy, dealing with the glum, oppressive atmosphere and the rough climate on a day-to-day basis. They go about their business, tilling the fields and herding their livestock, whilst occasionally accomodating to a traveler who lost themselves in the woods. Though they are nothing short of entirely normal, they are an enigma to the outside world.]
[center The Brynwald, around Brynham, is as dark and foggy as one would expect of a forest most claim to be haunted, and it is, indeed, a terribly dangerous place. Roads are the exception, not the rule, and they only skirt through the forest's edges, where the trees are not huddled together closely, as though plotting against the outside world. The forest seems perpetually shrouded in twilight during the daytime, and is black as pitch during the nighttime. Leaden skies and a steady drizzle are part of the day-to-day life during spring, summer and fall. Winter is terrible - Everything freezes over but the well in town, and the world is blanketed in thick snow. Bandits stalk the wood's edges, preying on the lost and daring, and the Brynfolk claim that far more terrible beasts and grisly fates await those who venture to deep into the woods and fail to find their way back out in time.]
[center [pic http://i.imgur.com/ACEEiQl.jpg]]
[center As of recently, the woods have grown quiet. No travelers have been reaching Brynham, spare for one man who calls himself an adventurer. The weary Brynfolk trust him little, but he has proven helpful, participating to work around the town where needed, occasionally even making ventures into the treeline to hunt.]
[center What is most peculiar about this traveler's arrival, however, is that he has not shared his name with anyone, and that he came during a particularly dark period.]
[center The Brynfolk had been suffering. A young woman had gone missing, disappeared without a trace, and ever since children have been disappearing in the night, erratically, with only hoofprints left in the village come dawn. Any sentries that are put out to keep watch are found dead, and soon sundown marks a period where the village locks itself down entirely, with villagers huddled together in their homes, fearing what may come for them. Cattle, too, has been disappearing as of recently, and the latest harvest has disastrously failed.]
[center Only one person seems to know what is amiss; The crazy, drunk old fool, who often tells tales about kingdoms lost to the sea of time, great ancestors of mankind who once called the land that is now the Brynwald their home. He weaves tales of shadowy monsters in the woods, cackling witches and devious werewolves hidden among the townsfolk. Two nights after the arrival of the traveler, he was found dead in the muddy streets, his throat slit cleanly and his limbs removed.]
[center Did he know too much? Did his suggestions, that something evil stirs within the nearby tomb, claimed to belong to an ancient hero, hold any truth?]
[center [pic http://i.imgur.com/udHH1KF.jpg]]
[center [b [size20 O O C]]]
Simply put; This will be a dark fantasy 1x1 RP based around the little town of Brynham and the surrounding woods. Our characters will try to get to the heart of the mysterious happenings in and around the town. For all intents and purposes, Brynham is based on dark ages Germany. There will likely be a romantic subplot. PM me for any further elaboration. You are free to either play as the traveling 'adventurer', or one of the Brynfolk.
[center [b Rules]]
The ability to post upward of 1500 characters; Post limit will be determined based upon your preferences.
The ability to post consistently. Daily or weekly posts are not requirerd, but are appreciated.
The ability to put yourself into a train of thought consistent with that of a towns(wo)man of Brynham.
A willingness to cooperate when it comes to determining the direction and plot of the roleplay.]
[center [b Skeleton]]
I look forward to anyone willing to cooperate. PM me if you are interested and have read through the thread. I would appreciate it if you'd name the title ''In Darkest Night''.
You don't have permission to post in this thread.
Oh perfect, Amalie thought. Tonight could not get any worse. She looked over to the boy in the background with pity in her eyes, but he was better off missing a leg than dead. Let’s just hope his family agreed in the morning when they learned of all this.
The red haired woman watched as the stranger attempted to prep the boy for the makeshift surgery. He tore his other sleeve off, an action that confused her, as there were plenty of other options in this house. Still, he had nice arms so she couldn’t really complain. Shaking her head this was definitely not the time to be thinking about that. She turned her focus to the boy, taking his hand and placing his head on her lap to make him more comfortable. Not that she expected it to really distract from his pain.
Her father headed into the back to grab the linen Conrad requested. He had to run upstairs to retrieve it, but the man returned with an armload. Setting all but one of the sheets next to the blue-eyed gentleman, he took the final one to slip underneath Sebastian. It would make for easier clean up.
When things got moving, Amalie took the man’s advice at not looking. Her eyes stayed glued to Sebastian as she cooed at him to try and take his attention away from the freighting reality at hand. Eventually she gave up, as she was sure he could not hear her over the sounds of his own screaming. And as loud as he was, it was not enough to drown out the horrific sound of the saw dragging through flesh and bone. The woman was sick to her stomach.
When the procedure was through, the green-eyed gal still couldn’t look up. Sebastian’s screams had faded to whimpers and she began her words of comfort once again although she was half sure he had passed out. She didn’t stop until she herself calmed down enough to do so. Finally she looked up, red stained just about everything. Even in the dim light it was vibrant as ever. The scene sent shivers down her spine. [b “If it’s safe to move him there is an extra bed upstairs. He would be more comfortable there.”] She didn’t know if that was a good idea or not.
Axel chose then as the time to inquire as to what had happened. She responded first. [b “Sebastian was outside for some reason and he was attacked. By the time I made it out there what ever it was had gotten away… He claimed it was a monster.”] She then looked to Conrad. While she had seen most of it, there was a chunk she had missed. Just how much of the assailant had he caught when he ran out?
He felt frightful when she dashed out of the room, knowing all too well that he might have to put her down next to the boy if he miscalculated the situation. He was franctically tending to the wounded leg, gauging how much blood the makeshift bandage had absorbed, and counting down the seconds to ensure he didn't keep the tourniquet on for too long, in which case he might as well cut the boy's leg off, regardless of his state. He'd suddenly note a change in the boy's breathing; it became rapid, rather than remaining stable. He reached over to feel the boy's forehead, only to be shocked by how hot he felt.
His eyes moved over to the wound. Something that resembled a red streak of rash seemed to be travelling outward from the wound, up the boy's leg. He knew that this could be a clear indication of blood poisoning. He pressed down on the rash, which to his dismay failed to fade away. He was about to break the news to the boy when he heard Amalie come in, after a while. She took him apart, thankfully, and handed over the saw. [b ''I'm afraid I have to,''] He whispered, a grave look on his poorly-lit face.
He gave her a moment to react. [b ''He's showing clear signs of blood poisoning. It's up and above the tourniquet already, so I'll have to cut the leg. Any doctors who could treat him are weeks away, by which time he'd be dead. Come with me, he'll need all the support he can get. I advise you not to look. Make sure he doesn't, either.'']
He lead her back into the room with the boy in it, the saw behind his back. [b ''Sebastian,''] He began, placing the saw down inconspicuously. [b ''Look at that red line on your leg. That means you have blood poisoning. If it travels too far, you'll die. Do you understand that?''] Of course, he allowed the boy a moment to process this. [b ''I have to cut your leg off. Don't look. This will hurt.''] He gestured for Amalie to comfort the child. He cut off his second sleeve using his skinning knife, using it to blindfold the child. He reached out for a second wooden candlestick and placed it between the boy's teeth. [b ''Bite down on this.'']
He removed the tourniquet, applying it again a bit above where the rash seemed to have ended. Axel seemed to have awoken, and Conrad, without ado, gestures to the tailor. [b ''I need a few rolls of linen.''] He took up the saw, placed it on the boy's leg, and began the long and horrifying task of sawing through it entirely, attempting to block out the pained howls.
Once finished, he took the rolls of clothing Axel had provided to tightly dress the stub, after which he'd make sure the bleeding had ceased.
Everything coming from Conrad was alarming. Her hands shook thinking about what might have to be done. What made it all worse was that she had experience with this sort of thing and could do nothing for the boy. Nothing that actually mattered. [b “I will get started… um, we don’t have a lot around here for accidents like this, but if you need some more cloth to bind his leg I can get that.”] It was a tailor’s shop of god’s sake, she wasn’t even sure they had a saw. The woman would look nonetheless. First she would get started on the soup though.
Shuffling around in the pantry, the woman found a couple of things that she needed. Luckily there was still come venison left. The trimmings and what was left coating the pot would make a fine stock. There was just enough water left in the house to fill the pot halfway. Sure it would have been better to have a bit more, but she didn’t want to run all the way to the well for that now. It was bad enough that she was going to have to go out to the wood shed out back.
Placing the pan above the hearth, the embers were still faintly gleaming below. It should be an easy task to reconstitute the fire. Grabbing a log from the neatly stacked pile nearby, she set it in the thick of the glow. Blowing lightly, it flickered up and grabbed ahold of the new fuel. The flames quickly wicked up the side a new warmth radiating off. Knowing that it would continue on this path she left it to consume the wood. Now it was time to find that saw.
Coming back to the front room, things were not looking much better. Amalie felt fear for the boy welling up in her stomach. She didn’t want to linger in this scene, outside almost seemed like the better option. Carefully taking up the torch again, she opened the door. She couldn’t see anything lurking in the shadows. Swift as she could she ran out to the shed. It was a small shabby building. It housed the few tools they had. Sure enough there was a handsaw hanging on the door. Taking it along with a few extra pieces of wood she hurried back to the house. Once there she motioned for Conrad to follow her away from Sebastian. [b “I found this,”] she thrusted the handle towards the towering man. [b “Hopefully you won’t have to use it.”] She made sure to keep her voice low and the blade out of the boy’s sight. There was no need to scare him anymore.
Tending to the boy was proving to be disastrous. He was badly hurt, and Conrad had to keep his wits about him in the event that whatever did this to the boy returned. He was busy applying pressure to the wound when he heard the soggy noises of boots approaching. He looked up, warily, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw the tailor's daughter hunker down beside him. His attention immediately returned to the boy. He took the lad into his arms and lifted him up by any means nescessary, trying to block out the boy's pained yelps and whines as he carried him in.
He used a single arm to clutch the boy to his chest, sweeping the living room table clean with the other, before laying the boy down upon it. He took his skinning knife, used it to slice off a part of Sebastian's trousers, to expose the wound, and immediately took on a grim expression. It was fleeting, however; he did not want the injured boy to see it. The best he could get in this town was a herbalist, which would do very little, now. Whilst Amalie kept the boy awake, he cut the sleeve off his own shirt, tying it tightly below the boy's knee, reaching for a nearby candlestick to turn it into a tourniquet. Once he had it applied, he pulled Amalie aside for a moment.
[b ''It looks dire for him. I've tied the wound off as well as I can, but the flow implies arterial bleeding, meaning he has quite a chance of bleeding to death. See if you can get some broth going over the hearth, and feed him. He'll need all the strength he can muster.'']
He offered her a faint smile, but his sullen mood soon returned. [b ''And we might need a saw, in case I need to amputate his leg.''] That didn't come out too joyfully, but Conrad immediately returned to the boy, tending to the minor wounds on his leg as well as he could.
Her father introduced the both of them. Amalie acted cordial enough, finally having a name to put to him made her feel a little better about him up with them. Although, she still wasn’t ready to completely clear him of suspicion.
Sleep did not come immediately. The red haired woman was kept awake by her fears. Unnatural night, and a stranger in her home was a lot to deal with all at once. And when she finally did find sleep it was neither restful nor deep. Tossing and turning for most of her little rest, Amalie shot straight up as the blood-curdling scream pierced the air. She was up to her feet just as fast. In only her nightgown and a shawl she had grabbed along the way she ran downstairs. Her hair whipping behind her in a tight bound braid. The first place she went was to her father’s room. He was still sound asleep, safe in his bed. Next was to the front of the house. Conrad was nowhere to be seen.
Not one to stand still in times such as these, Amalie was determined to see that he was up to no good. Quickly darting out the door, she saw fire flickering in the dark not twenty feet from her door. The woman went straight that way, only to see the figure of the raven-haired man at the edge of the light. Next to him was Sebastian, the neighbor’s boy. Rushing over, he was clearly treating the boy. Not something she would expect of a kidnapper and murderer, although she would have the story from the teen when this was through.
Coming closer, Amalie crouched down next to the boy. He seemed to be in shock. It wasn’t surprising considering the deep gash in his leg. There was blood everywhere, but Conrad was already tending to it. [b “We need to get him inside, before things get worse.”] She motioned for the man to grab Sebastian and go back to the house. As he was lifting the adolescent, she went to retrieve the torch that looked though it was going to fizzle out. Taking it up, she held it at an arm’s length as she hustled back to her home.
Setting the light somewhere safe, she returned to Sebastian’s side. He was still shaking, but had seemed to regain some of the color in his face. [b “Basti, what were you doing outside at night?”] Her voice held a criticizing tone. It was one that came from concern. She knew he was smarter than that.
Placing a hand on his arm, the child was ice cold to the touch. Alarmed, Amalie took the shawl from her shoulders and wrapped it around the boy. [b “What happened to you?”]
It wasn’t until then that he spoke. [b “I-i-it was a monster… I saw it in the light!”] His voice was urgent and wavering. The chestnut haired boy was on the verge of tears. [b “It had my leg, it was going to drag me off.”] From there he looked up at the tall man. [b “If you hadn’t of come…”] He cut off there, but his expression was thankful.
Surprised to hear any of this, Amalie stood in silence. She had no more reason to suspect their visitor, but the idea of a monster did not set well with her. That couldn’t possibly be the truth. The dark was playing tricks on him.
Upon hearing that the recent, terrible events could likely play out again that night, Conrad turned. He instinctively reached for his bow, briefly stroking the hickory limbs of the hunting implement. After the shadow of doubt dissipated behind his eyes, he regarded the woman, properly. Squatting down by the fire, it was hard to see him for how tall he was. Nonetheless, his introduction came with a smile. [b ''Conrad Allard. Hunter by trade, adventurer by chance.''] It took him a short moment to memorize their names, and he turned to return his attention to the meal over the fireplace shortly after.
Spending the night at the house of a family he scarce knew left him feeling as though he'd overstay his welcome. With a quick, but thankful nod, he answered Axel's statement. [b ''Very well. For my own sake, and that of the poor sod who'd otherwise clean me off the streets, I'll stay. I insist I keep watch for the night, however. I've no duties to attend in the morning.'']
At least that made him feel as though he'd answer kindness with kindness, and so it came to pass that, after a hearty and filling meal, he ended up perched before a small window in total darkness, eyes set on the point where one normally could see stars, but where only clouds dwelled that night.
He'd almost fallen asleep, despite his watchfulness, when a cry rang out through the streets, echoing between the cramped spaces allowing people to move from house to house. He immediately sat bolt upright, skinning knife in his hand. He could barely discern movement, prompting him to leap towards the hearth. He'd prepared a torch, which he lit eagerly. Without waking or warning the Schneiders, he rushed outside, making sure to shut the door behind him.
He hurled the torch after the vague blur disappearing into the night. It went just wide of its mark, and briefly lit the dark figure for all to see. Conrad took no heed, he was too busy fussing over the injured lad, curled up in the mud at his feet. He couldn't be older than fifteen.
Being in his seventies, Axel Schneider’s hearing was not at its peek. He hadn’t heard the traveler come in. It wasn’t till he smelled the savory aroma of roasting meat that he rose from his work desk to see what was going on in his kitchen. Surely, it wasn’t his daughter. That girl seldom made anything that required the fire. So he was rather curious who had come into his home.
Rounding the corner, he saw a man he’d never met. It told him exactly who it was. The wanderer that had ventured into their village looking for a place to stay a while. Axel heard he was sharing meals with the families around town. It must have been their turn. Smiling, the elderly gentleman entered the room. [b “Hello there, sir. It is nice to finally meet you. I apologize for not hearing you come in, you see my ears don’t work so well these days.”] He chuckled at his own expense.
It wasn’t long after that when Amalie came walking down the street. She had been visiting the family of a friend that had gone missing. There was still no sign of her yet. The same could be said about all the children who had seemingly disappeared. No one knew what was happening, well not anyone credible. People were at a near constant state of unrest. It was then that she noticed the smoke coming from her house. Chest filled with worry she began to sprint towards the house. It was still too early for her father to light a fire, or so she thought.
A shadow slowly began to engulf the town, nearly two hours before darkness should have fallen. With it a new fear came over the woman. As she reached the door to her home she threw it open only to slam it shut behind her. The feeling that something dreadful was approaching consumed her. Amalie swiftly moved around the house, closing any windows and curtains. It wasn’t until she had finished shutting off the house that she realized a stranger stood in their midst. Her father was unalarmed, and so she chose to stay quiet about it and instead focus on the darkness.
Amalie’s hair was a mess from running about and her speech slightly uneven to match her breath. [b “Something is wrong outside. I think it’s going to happen again.”] The comment normally would have been vague, but with the town’s situation being what it was the meaning of her words was not hard to infer.
A looked of concern touched the old man’s face. [b “Well, I suppose it would be best for you to stay here until it passes, friend.”] He was clearly trying to make the best of the situation by downplaying it. It was a habit of his that Amalie did not care for. She herself took refuge in knowing that there were no children in the house and the fact that Sonja, her friend, had been swept away while she was outdoors. It was unlikely that anything would happen if they holed up where they were. It was terrible of her to take solace in other’s misfortune, but what mattered most to her was her father.
Looking over the stranger, she thought this must be the man that everyone was buzzing about. It was odd to her that he would appear at such a trying time for them, and when no one else had come or gone. The fiery haired woman was skeptical about him and a nice meal wouldn’t chance that. She didn’t hide the sentiment on her face.
He crouched down on the precipice, peering quietly into the sparsely wooded glen below. A hickory flatbow in his left hand, he narrowed his eyes and evaluated the dreary undergrowth. After a few moments of silence, a slight movement caught his eye. It was that of mottled fur, showing briefly in between two bushes. The mating call of a fallow buck sounded a few moments later, no less than a foot or two from where the hunter had previously seen the animal. With a movement honed by years of practice, he took a broadhead arrow from his quiver and laid it upon his bow. A blind shot would miss or wound the animal without killing it quickly enough for him to collect it. He'd have to be patient. He could still observe movement behind the bushes, but it mattered very little.
It came into sight. For a moment, it was just Conrad and the buck. He drew the bowstring taut, and just as the deer looked up, it was struck by the broadhead. It pierced the animal's lungs, prompting it to flee, though it could do little other than collapse. It took a while to descend the cliffside, but he could leave the glen using the slope on the other side, which would lead him back into Brynham. He took his skinning knife in his right hand upon finding the buck. He sank to his knees, laid his bow aside, and began work on the trying task of field-dressing the deer, stripping it of most organs. He left everything for the scavengers, bar the tongue and the heart, which he carefully wrapped in cloth and stored in his pack. After heaving the buck onto his shoulders and collecting his bow, he set off to Brynham.
The walk from the glen to the butcher's shack took about an hour. He'd met with the man before, and offered his help in providing meat for the villagers during his stay. The workshop was abandoned when he arrived, so he quickly got ready to skin the animal, which he handily did. Once done, he began separating the remainders into healthy cuts of meat to distribute around the village. Every kill, he handed out free flesh to a different family, whilst letting the butcher keep the rest to sell.
He'd paid a visit to the baker, the fletcher, the tanner, and now he'd arrived at the tailor's house. He had heard of old man Schneider in the tavern; He was not too socially active, but well-liked by the townsfolk, and he'd stitched up Conrad's tunic a few times, though it had always been delivered to the traveler by one of the local children. He gave a short knock at the door, and when nobody opened, he went in himself. [b ''Good evening, master Schneider,''] He called out politely as he shut the door behind him. From the lack of the sounds of a fire and the accompanying scents thereof, he deduced that dinner wasn't on yet. [b ''I've brought you some meat, and I'd like to cook for you as a token of my appreciation for your work.''] He looked around, momentarily, before trudging towards the hearth. A neat pile of logs and a few sparks from his firestriker introduced a gentle, warm glow to the room. It took a while for the heat to spread, but it eventually did. He took the liberty of finding the lard and basting some of the deer meat with it.
From then on, it was a matter of minutes before darkness crept over the town, and the tailor's dwelling was filled with the smells of roast venison.
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