Atulon's Pass (Full)(Started!)

[Yorgmiester]

"Dammit, Seiben!" Io said, lowering her fists. "I would punch you too, if you weren't so brittle. Snap like a toothpick, you would." She started to the right, as if to slip around him, but then leaped to the left, hoping to trick him and get at the lumberjack. Seiben was, however, too fast. "Stop being so damned reasonable." she muttered with a scowl.

"Don't listen to him, babe. He deserved it."

"Thank you, Yan." Io said, turning to look at him smugly. "But I think we've discussed this before. Don't call me 'babe'." With that she delivered a measured yet punctual backhand to the side of his head, like a mother batting a child's ears.

"You *****!" Griger yelled in a nasal voice as he staggered upright, holding his bleeding nose. "You broke my fucking nose!" Despite his injury, the big ruffian was still fueled by anger, and more than ready to continue the fight. Lunging forward, he slapped his free hand on Seiben's shoulder, preparing to shove the smaller man aside. Griger never got that far, though, as he was, at that instant, struck from the side by one of Cossan's fabled pile-drives.

Both men went skidding across the floor and disappeared into a tangled mass of drunkards.

~~​

Fighting throughout the tavern had escalated very quickly. It was mostly due to the alcohol, anger, and general bad feelings brought about by the long blizzard, although it could not be denied that several of the unit's soldiers played key roles in it's development. Whatever the case, the melee had begun to reach a dangerous level. Increasing levels of weaponry were appearing, and the chances of serious injury or death were climbing.

That all changed in an instant.

The front door burst open, it's heavy wooden frame creaking as the rusty hinges churned. A figure clad in heavy, ornamented armor followed just behind the door, thin wisps of frost and strings of falling snow drifting off of it as the bearer of the gear strode into the room. He was followed by another, and another, and another.

The brawling gradually ceased over the period of a few seconds, as those less inebriated quietly informed those still swinging. A hush had fallen over the room, as everyone stared at the door for a few moments and then turned away, going back to drinking or talking softly in the corners.

Heavy-clad soldiers continued to pour into the room until there were eighteen of them. Most of them quickly walked to the bar, their gear and mail clinking with each step. They all wore matching armor, covered in intricate designs and symbols, with high-crested helms and wide shields across their backs. Each one bore a curved sword at their hip.

"Who'r they?" one of the villagers, who had apparently not been out of his house much, dared to whisper.

"Ramparts...." Otlina replied, after staring at the man in surprise. "... elites of the Emporer's Chosen. Don't mess with them." She turned and and walked towards the stairs, after one last glance at the newcomers. It was apparent that there wouldn't be much more action down here tonight.

"Wimps." one of the local meatheads mumbled under his breath. "They sit at the top of the military food chain and do nuthin', then get paid loads for it." He froze as he felt Io's hand on his shoulder, flexing as if getting ready to strangle him.

"They've got more balls in their left pinky fingernail than you've got in your entire body." she hissed into his ear. "How about you go insult them to their face?" She let go of him roughly, ramming his chest against the counter. "Watch yourself."

The Ramparts were a special division of the Emporer's Chosen, elite soldiers tasked exclusively with defending the realm and it's people. They could not be bought, hired, or manipulated. They could not be killed, either, or so it seemed. They lived their entire lives training and being indoctrinated in the ways of the Empire and how to best defend it, and contrary to popular belief, were not payed all that much. Their lifestyles required very little funding.

Despite their mandate, the Ramparts had gained an unfavorable reputation among the people, due mostly to their rigid code of conduct and "unquestionable" beliefs. They were definitely not pleasant company, especially in an environment where debauchery and wild celebration was the norm. Yet they were nearly the most competent warriors in the Empire, and there was no doubt that they could drop everyone in the room within a matter of seconds.

"You should learn to control your men." said the Rampart's captain as he sat down at Rinus' table. He was a tall man with blonde hair, in his late thirties. Elndral Biron was his name.

"I have greater things to think about than the public decency of those under my command." Rinus replied, chewing on his last bite of steak. The Ramparts had been here almost as long as his own unit, having arrived just a few days afterward, but hadn't shown their faces much. They were staying in the boarding house across the street from the inn, and had stayed inside most of the time, praying or meditating or whatever it was they did.

In many cases, Rinus would be glad to have them around. Not so here. The presence of the Ramparts meant that something big was going on, and in these times, big usually meant bad. This wasn't supposed to be a big mission. The task was to simply escort a little less than three hundred villagers down the river to the port, and yet a unit of Ramparts had been sent, with no explanation as to why they were here. It had Rinus more than a little worried.

Elndral sighed, motioning over his shoulder for one of his soldiers to bring a beer. "My men were feeling a little cramped, and so I decided to let them come over here for a few drinks." He looked at Rinus carefully, trying to discern the man's thoughts. "Nothing like letting loose for a while."

Rinus said nothing, simply finished his food and took a long drought of ale, than stood to leave.

"We'll get word soon." Elndral said, in an attempt to be reassuring. Rinus replied with a grunt, then turned and left, retreating up the staircase and to bed, leaving the now unnaturally quiet Common Room to creak and groan in it's brooding thoughts.

~~​

One by one, the other members of the unit disappeared upstairs as well. The villagers began to trickle out the front door to their homes, or simply fall into drunken slumber where they lay. The fire cracked and sputtered away, now emanating a kind of uncaring aloofness rather than warm comfort. Dalder served the last few drinks and then vanished to his own quarters. Presently the Ramparts left as well, leaving the tavern in quiet solitude for the few conscious ones that still remained.

 

[Sporky111]

Orson shuffled up the stairs to the bunks shortly after the Ramparts arrived. He didn't particularly like them. They seemed too blind in their faith, unable to make intuitive choices.

Several of his team mates were already in the room, in various states of injury and health, but all solemnly quiet. He sat on his cot and stripped off his shirt, then inspected his ribs. Under his left arm was red and sore from his bad landing over the chair, but nothing serious. I'll be fine.

He pulled off his boots and crawled into bed, not quite tired but not seeing any reason to stay up. For a short while he looked across the room at the window, the faint glow from below illuminating the snow, but the source of their confinement soured his mood and he rolled to face the other direction.

 

[Yorgmiester]

~ Time: 2:30 AM
~ Conditions: Temperature freezing, heavy snow and strong winds, visibility zero.

There was a somber *thump* as the last of the logs in the Common Room's fireplace fell into the ashes and smoldering embers, it's dismal glow furnishing only a few feet around it in some semblance of warmth. In the corner, a sleeping villager stirred slightly, curling into a tight ball and muttering some inaudible string of words. The walls continued their groaning anguish, a deep falsetto to match the shrill whistling of the wind through unseen cracks.

~~​

Hooves, bearing down mercilessly on snow and ice in a frantic rhythm. Freezing, biting air rushing over numbed face, stinging eyeballs. Pounding of a heavy weighted beast beneath, the loud and throaty rush of air through desperate nostrils assaulting the rims of burning ears.

~~​

Lera tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep, constantly staring at the walls and ceiling. She swiveled her head and gazed towards the curtained window, as if some vile creature might slip through it. Turning once again, she forced herself to close her eyes, drawing the flimsy covers up around her neck and shivering.

~~​

Dalder Morris cursed silently and pushed his sheets aside, stepping out of bed onto the cold floor. Shivering, he slipped into his shoes and shuffled over to the small personal fireplace in his room, tossing another log onto the embers. Before turning to go back to bed, he glanced at his window. On an impulse, he reached up and cracked the pane open just a nudge.

The terrible scream of wind hissed through that crack, along with a handful of pale snow and a gust of bitter cold. Dalder hurriedly closed the window and drew the curtains, shuttering to himself as he quickly crossed the room and dove into the safety of his bed.

~~​

The shrieking cry of an anguished wind penetrating deep into the soul, then stretching outwards and engulfing the slumped and weary body. Cracked, bleeding, blackening fingers clutched around a frozen leather string; frosted eyes barely discerning the road ahead. Whiteness. Labored lungs and bloody, breaking legs. Slow, agonizing death.

~~​

Somewhere in Highburn, a child slept. Safe in his cushioned, billowy, feather-soft world, the little boy rested, his mind in some happy place. A small smile crept upon his lips, his arm tightening around the stuffed dog that slept next to him. His curly blonde hair fell in innocent locks around his small face, his cheeks and resting eyes buried in the softness of his pillow.

The ceiling creaked loudly, extenuated by a hiss of wind through some tiny crack, and the boy awoke. Staring about the room in sleepy fright, he pulled the covers up around his head. Just then, a music box on the mantle began to play. His eyes turning towards the sound, the boy slowly relaxed and gazed at the box with a smile of wonderment, listening to it's soothing melody.

The entire house suddenly shuttered under a terrible gush of wind. The music box tipped over the edge of the mantle and fell, shattering on the floor as the music abruptly ended amid the noise of breaking glass.

~~​

A lone rider plunged through the snow and wind, his horse barreling towards Highburn on feeble, exhausted legs. The man slumped over the saddle, his back bent low under the pressure of a hundred fighting miles. His legs barely gripped the sides of the animal, his feet flopping about feebly in the stirrups. Frozen sweat caked the side of the horse, long plumes of frosty foam stretched from it's mouth across it's cheeks. Blood ran down it's legs and decorated the snow. The rider looked up suddenly, a burst of joy radiating from his mind, as the looming shadows of walls appeared on both sides of his vision.

The horse galloped through Highburn's east gate and plowed through several snowbanks, whinnying pitifully before letting out one final scream into the darkness and then keeling over into the snow. The rider leaped off of his mount as it died, uttering a muffled, hoarse cry as he hit the ground. Then he was up, fueled by desperation, bolting into the shadows of the nearest building and rushing towards the closest door he could find.

~~​

"Captain! Captain!"

Rinus awoke suddenly, slapping a strong hand onto the arm that shook him. Staring down at him was a scared-looking villager holding a lantern. The rest of the room was still dark; daylight had not come yet. The only sound besides the constant shriek of wind and creaking of wood was the moaning and groaning of his men, many of which had been awoken or had not been asleep.

"What is it?" he asked sleepily, sitting upright. The man looked very worried.

"A horseman arrived."

Rinus bolted to his feet, his eyes wide, his heart instantly racing with both hope and fear. "Where is he?" Even as he asked this, he was pulling on his shirt and boots.

"In the Common Room, captain. Please hurry!" with that the villager turned and left hastily.

Rinus hurriedly pulled some warm clothes on and rushed downstairs. A group of men and women were already gathered around the messenger, who sat in a chair by the now roaring fire, covered in blankets, with his feet in a bowl of hot water. Dalder was rushing back and forth between the fire and the firewood, the women were piling on blankets, hot water, and warm towels.

"When did he get here?" Rinus whispered to one of the men who was standing nearby.

"Just a few minutes ago." the villager replied. "Someone has been send to inform Captain Elndral."

Rinus nodded, then quietly approached the messenger, being careful not to startle him. The man looked awful; sunken eyes with heavy black bags, hair frozen with grease and sweat, nose bleeding and lips cracked. His skin was red and covered in blisters, his fingers were black with frostbite and curled into talon-like forms. His body shook uncontrollably, his eyes stared lifelessly into the light of the fire.

"What can you tell me?" Rinus asked after a few long moments.

The messenger muttered something inaudible and then coughed violently. One of the women brought a cup of hot honey-water to his lips, and he drank it all. Then, after some more coughing and another cup of honey-water, he finally spoke, in a low, hoarse whisper that caused Rinus to have to lean forwards to hear him.

"An... an army..."

"Who's army?" Rinus asked slowly. "Our army?"

The messenger shook his head, and Rinus leaned back, suddenly dumbstruck. Although he had asked the question, he was in no way ready for the answer.

"They... very close..." The messenger began to cough again, and he was brought another cup. After downing the drink, he took a few seconds to breath, and then continued, his voice a little stronger.

"They are very close. Many, many." he winced in pain and coughed. "Came out of... nowhere... like ghosts. Fa-Falkin... is gone. Destroyed."

This last bit of news hit Rinus like a thunderclap to the chest. Falkin, destroyed? That was a catastrophe on infinite levels. Not only was it bad for the thousands of people who had lived there, but now Highburn's evacuation plan was rendered useless. In essence, they were trapped. Now he was worried.

"They are coming this way." the messenger continued. "Up the valley." his eyes grew hollow and gray, his breath coming in raspy, strangled whimpers of desperation. It was clear that he was dying.

"How long do we have?" Rinus asked as he stood.

"They will be here by sunrise."

After several rushed commands to the villagers standing nearby, Rinus turned and bolted up the stairs, his mind running on instinct and training alone, as the information he had been given had yet to sink in. In only a matter of seconds, he had burst through the door to his units boarding room.

"Wake up!" he bellowed, backhanding several of them as he rushed past their beds. "We are leaving, and the whole town with us! Gear up, soldiers, the evacuation has begun!" Stopping at his own bed, he hurriedly began putting on his armor and gathering his effects, even as he continued to roar his orders to the groggy unit.

"An enemy army is approaching! We have three hours to get every single person out of this village!" His armor clinked into place as he fastened it tight. "Split up and cover the entire town, checking every single house, every single hovel, every single damned outhouse and dog pen!" His helmet, for lack of a better place to put it, slid onto his head. "Gather everyone at the West gate! You have three hours!"

He slung his pack over his shoulder and then rushed out the door, as outside in the howling wind and driving snow, Highburn's alarm bell began to sound.

 

[Lost In The Void]

Winter's hands, cover the heroes
Those who gave their lives for freedom
Their sands, their hours clocked zero
Those who fought. Set straight and determined


Emma awoke to the bells in the city ringing. Her arm still slightly stiff where she had struck the drunk the night before. She remembered the night's events only vaguely. She had enjoyed more than one pint herself that night. She remembered the lone soldier, the man who had defended her, what was his name?

She stood up, pulling out the small mirror she did possess. She quickly worked on her thick raven black hair, being careful to make it look pretty and practical. It was a battle she faced everyday, though today, more than most, due to the rush. Finally she finished and dressed herself before stepping down the stairs of the pub. She heard scuffling and shouting, sounding much like one of the soldiers. Soon he was bolting up the stairs and yelling for his comrades to wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felon awoke with a start as he was slapped awake by Rinus. He heard evacuation orders, they were leaving today? Three hours? This was too soon, what had happened? There were too many questions to be answered, but Felon pushed them aside and worked on getting dressed as soon as he could. He was soon ready and practically jumped down the pub stairs, colliding with the same woman he had spoken to and defended from the night before. She barely moved, still appearing dazed from the night before. He grabbed her shoulders, "We're evacuating today, we need to leave. Go home and pack what necessities you have, no luxuries, we need to pack fast and move faster."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma's gaze sharpened and she ran out of the pub to where she really lived, rather than where she had simply passed out. She began to pack, furiously throwing things into a tattered pack she had kept from her last move as a child. None of her expensive perfumes, none of her dresses, she left those, instead grabbing foods, thick clothing, whatever she could find.

She soon had everything she needed and was stepping out the door when she turned around running back into the building. She tore open her dresser, throwing various articles of clothing around until she found a small box. She opened it, staring at it fondly. It was a locket given to her by the village when she left. It was a symbol of finally being independent, of becoming a woman. Tears rolled down her eyes as she remembered the fire that had taken her village and why she was here. She couldn't leave this, it was something she did need. With trembling fingers, she clasped it around her neck. Only then did she finally leave the house to those that would destroy it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felon was running through the village, calling for the evacuations. Most panicked and began to pack, but some of the older men, some who would have been soldiers in their own youth, protested heavily, saying that they should stay and fight. Felon tried to reason with them; they would return home again. They would retake their land, but for now, they did not have the resources; they couldn't fend off an army. This convinced most of the older men to finally see sense and move towards leaving their homes.

His arguments were too feeble for one family though, "We need to leave," he pleaded with the stubborn man and woman who stood at the door, "Can't you hear the bells? They are coming, we must leave."

The man hardened his heart to what the soldiers was saying, "The Gods will protect us, they always have and they will continue to."

Felon was exasperated, "The Gods would want you to live, come with me, think of your son; your daughter, they need to be able to see the winters past this, the breaking of the ice, the first flowers; they need to live," a tear ran down his cheek, "I lost my son and wife too long ago, I don't want you to suffer the same."

The man's eyes softened. He turned his head to his wife and nodded. She hurried into the house and Felon heard the scuffling of feet as the house exploded into action. Felon smiled and walked away from the house, knowing that one less family would be broken today.

 

[Shapsters]

Aryana jolted up in her uncomfortable cot as soon as Rinus stormed into the sleeping area. Her light sleeping kept her alert and ready to go at a moments notice, she heard her Captains orders and was out of her bed and ready to go in a few seconds. Diving into her chest she threw on her armour, gathered her bow and arrows and threw her cloak over her shoulders. She sprinted down the stairs as the others gathered themselves, the biter winter winds stung her face as she opened the front door. A hiss spread throughout the bar as the harsh wind blasted into the building but quickly disappeared as the door shut behind Aryana. She pulled her warm, furry hood above her helm as she ran toward the stable.

As she was readying herself, she had already assessed who she would save first. At the back of the village lived a woman and her young son, they were without a man and would need help. They would take the longest to reach the city gates and the horse would certainly help, the others would take care of the rest but the young boy and the mother were quite far away.

*****************************

Zieg slept soundly in his bed. The house where he and his mouther lived was quite far from the town center, even with good weather the sound of the bell barely reached the house. Too say this weather was less than good is a huge understatement, with howling winds that blocked out the loudest of sounds, the alarm bell spreading throughout the town was unheard by the boy and his mother.

 

[Sporky111]

Orson stumbled out of bed after catching a backhand from Rinus. He wasn't awake enough to get specifics, but he heard the words "evacuate", "three hours", and "west gate" so he hurriedly pulled on his armor and went downstairs.

The cold outside instantly shocked him awake as the frigid wind cut though his armor and clothing and straight to his bones. He shook his head and ran for the nearest house and banged on the door. A yound girl opened it and looked out curiously, behind her the house was already bustling with activity. Likely due to the alarm bell ringing so urgently.

Orson looked past her and spoke loudly into the house, "We're evacuating now, time is short. Only pack necessities and meet at the West Gate."

* * * * *​

Bunching his blankets around his shoulders, Ochrem stood up out of his bed. He lived in the same house as his son and daughter-in-law, and a soldier had already been over to tell them of the evacuation. They were already hurrying around the house packing their necessities, deciding what was needed and what could be left.

Ochrem was simpler, and more deliberate. He took his cane and took a few steps over to his dresser and took his satchel in hand. He gathered a collection of his medicines and put them in, then took his trinkets and lovingly packed them. They were various objects of precious metal and jewels, collected over his travels as a soldier. They would be all he left to his grandchildren when he left this world, and he couldn't leave them without inheritance.


On top of these, he packed a pair of clothes and then closed the satchel. He wrapped it over his shoulder with stiff arms, then gathered his blankets once again and left his room.

 

[ThreeWords]

Spoiler: OOC

Since I haven't used him yet, can i make an edit to William, my villager? I'd to make him a her, change the name to Rachel, and edit some stuff into the appearance section. That shouldn't disturb too much, should it?

Spoiler: Said appearance change

Though between girl and woman, Rachel is nearer to womanhood; she is tall for a woman, with shape coming to hips and chest. The appearance of maturity is increased by her grey blue eyes, which watch the world, taking in everything around her with a quiet observance that speaks of her great potential in her profession. Her mouth, though not overused, is wide and sensuous, and oft gifted with a smile which balances the apparent age with a sense of youthful carelessness, for she has yet to fully assume the burdens of maturity
As befits a hunter, she wears simple, dark clothes which are more for practicality than show; they allow her to move silently when she needs to, and are surprisingly comfortable, though look unflattering and unfashionable to those who judge merely by look
When hunting, she ties her red-brown hair back, though otherwise she lets it hang loose, down to her shoulders.

(For the purposes of this post, I'm gonna take that as accepted, unless Yorg says I shouldn't, at which point I'll edit)

Sieben fought through the blizzard, going between the houses and rounding up the villagers. Thankfully, he was almost finished; this house was the last, then he could get back and help get the main group ready to leave

Ducking under the eaves, he hammered on the door. "Hello?" he called, and was answered with a creak as the door opened, through which a girl looked at him. She looked vaguely surprised to find a man in armor, but hid it well. "You'd better come in" she said quietly, and opened the door further.

Inside, the girl turned out to be nearer a young woman, and though Sieben kicked himself for even noticing she would be quite the woman in time. She said nothing, avoiding his gaze, and instead called out "Dervish!"

there appeared a tall lean man, who nodded to Sieben, then spoke without other greeting. "It's the foe, isn't it? I'm no fool, and I know the way this war is going; they'll send a force here to wipe us out, and you seek to evacuate us into the blizzard."

Before Sieben could respond, he went on, "It's madness, but apathy is death and an action must be taken. We've packed some things in readiness; though we did not expect to leave so soon. Rachel, fetch the packs while I awake Lana" to Sieben he said, "I will wake my wife, and we will be with you shortly"

Spoiler: OOC

I have no more time. More tomorrow!

 

[The Hairminator]

Yan cursed quietly for himself in the blizzard. Why did the enemy have to attack in the middle of the damn winter?

He had been assigned to guard the west gate, and keep calm among the amassing villagers. The tension and waiting around, doing nothing, was however taking its toll on him.

"Sir Soldier?"
Yan turned around, and noticed the small boy who had approached him. "My brother says the enemy is coming, and that we're all going to die. He is wrong, right?"

Yan didn't know what to say. In truth he wasn't too sure of their survival. "Well, with any luck, the enemy army has frozen to death on its way here. We're not taking any risks though, and we're evacuating you. You'll all be fine, and in spring the war will be over and you can return." He said with a hardly convincing voice. His uncertain tone of voice was however lost in the howling wind, and the boy lit up. He happily walked back to his family.

Right there, and then, Yan wished he had never joined the military.

 

[Yorgmiester]

Spoiler: OOC

Since I haven't used him yet, can i make an edit to William, my villager? I'd to make him a her, change the name to Rachel, and edit some stuff into the appearance section. That shouldn't disturb too much, should it?

Spoiler: Said appearance change

Though between girl and woman, Rachel is nearer to womanhood; she is tall for a woman, with shape coming to hips and chest. The appearance of maturity is increased by her grey blue eyes, which watch the world, taking in everything around her with a quiet observance that speaks of her great potential in her profession. Her mouth, though not overused, is wide and sensuous, and oft gifted with a smile which balances the apparent age with a sense of youthful carelessness, for she has yet to fully assume the burdens of maturity
As befits a hunter, she wears simple, dark clothes which are more for practicality than show; they allow her to move silently when she needs to, and are surprisingly comfortable, though look unflattering and unfashionable to those who judge merely by look
When hunting, she ties her red-brown hair back, though otherwise she lets it hang loose, down to her shoulders.

(For the purposes of this post, I'm gonna take that as accepted, unless Yorg says I shouldn't, at which point I'll edit)

Spoiler: OOC

*grumble grumble grumble*

Very well. But you're treading on thin ice, Mr. Words. I've got my eye on you. -.O

The boarding room was instantly a buzz of activity. They all knew the drills, the procedures, the frantic series of perfectly executed actions that each was required to perform with utmost speed. Even if half of them were severely hung over, their bodies responded with systematic memory that had been ingrained into their instincts from the day they joined the unit. Gear was moved and stored in a matter of seconds, armor strapped and secured, legs forced into a steady rhythm out the door and down the stairs even as their owner's brains were still waking up. There would be time for worry and concern later.

As the others rushed downstairs and out the front door, Io ran down the hall, banging on the doors of the Inn's other patrons. Most were already awake and gathering their belongings, most of the doors were already open to let in the heat. Wobbling groups of hungover men and young naked couples poked their heads out as Io passed, their expressions fearful and questioning. 'Pack up and head to the West Gate' she repeated, over and over and over again.

The last door, at the far end of the hallway, was closed. Coming to a halt, she lifted her fist and then banged loudly, three times. Grasping the door handle, she was about to throw it open, when it eased open on it's own accord.

A hunched old woman stood there, with a sack thrown over her shoulder, which seemed to be her only belonging. Next to her, under the crook of her arm, stood a small boy, who was apparently both blind and disfigured somehow, for thick bandages covered almost his entire body and face, including his eyes. Io's countenance softened as she looked over the pair.

"We heard yelling. Has the evacuation begun?" the old woman asked, peering up at Io.

"Yes, it has. Gather only the belongings that you can't afford to lose, and meet at the West Gate as soon as possible."

~~​

The cold hit Buyir like a wall as he exited the tavern, the door acting like a portal between the warmth and solidity inside, and the freezing chaos and uncertainty without. He was instantly fully awake, as if he had jumped into a frozen lake. Wrapping his arms and cloak tighter around himself, he charged off into the driving snow, staying close to the Tavern's walls as he headed for the stables.

Cossan was not far behind him. The two of them burst into the stables and instantly went to work, saving little time for enjoying the warmth. The horses were nervous, their eyes wide and nostrils flared. Buyir went about the stalls calming them down, as he fastened their saddles and bridles. Cossan began hurriedly loading the pack horses with supplies.

~~​

Jutani, and most of the others, experienced much the same sort of cold impact as Buyir, when exiting the tavern. The only difference was that he didn't have the warmth of the stables to look forward to, no quick dash across the frozen hell. No, his purpose was to stay in the frozen hell, head out into it's depths, in fact. His intent was to run about and perform many physically demanding tasks in the frozen hell.

It wouldn't be fair to say that the absurdity of it all did not cross his mind as he plunged into the ice and snow, or that the thought of turning back and finding some indoors job did not present itself to him. He persevered, nonetheless, and soon enough the first house loomed suddenly into his vision through the dense mixtures of black and white.

"Gather your needs and head to the West Gate!" he yelled as he ran up to the shack, his voice struggling to carry through the blizzard. As he approached, the door swung open, and a family rushed out, a large pack on each of their backs. They had already been warned, and were cleary prepared ahead of time.

Nodding to himself, Jutani tugged his cloak closer around his neck and continued to the next house. They had not been prepared, obviously, as the inside of their home was a complete mess of frantic panicking. Jutani was "forced" to enter the sheltered stone building with a fireplace and hot water, and get things under control, beginning their packing himself, then leaving them with several pointed and simple instructions.

~~​

"I said carts! No, carts! Carts!"

Rinus had gathered a number of the local men near the middle of town, and was currently trying to explain to them that they needed carts. Two supply carts had been loaded a month ago when the unit arrived, in anticipation of an immediate evacuation, but those supplies had quickly been stored back in their original places once it became clear they would all be here for a while. Now those two carts were being re-loaded, but Rinus knew they would need more, and was trying to get these men to understand him, which was difficult in the blizzard.

"We. Need. Carts. Carts!"

"You mean like wagons?"

Rinus nearly punched the man right there. "Yes, yes, like wagons. We need as many as we can get, loaded with food and supplies, at the West Gate! Understand?" The men nodded and then ran off into the inky darkness, going to find their cousins and fathers and brothers and sons, to commandeer as many wagons and work animals as could be found.

Rinus stood alone, surrounded by nothing but darkness and cold, by himself with his thoughts. The only noise besides the hiss and moan of the wind was the seemingly faraway ringing of the alarm bell, the only sight visible through the haze of frozen air was the occasional dull glow of a small window or lantern floating in the darkness. The desperation of their situation was beginning to sink in. Where could they go? The mountains would not harbor them for long, and their only avenue of escape, Falkin, had been destroyed. They truly had nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.

Shaking off the depressing feelings, Rinus forced his mind back into soldier mode, and trudged off into the snow. He needed to find Elndral and start coordinating how they would get all of these people out in anything like an orderly fashion.

 

[Nukey]

Krinilik was standing by one of the market stalls, lifting goods from the shelves and placing them onto wagons for the voyage ahead. Food was the main concern, followed by bottles of alcohol and water, all of which thrown onto the carts with little thought regarding how it should be sorted. For the most part, the alcohol was cheap and tasteless, and food was no more than simple grains; chosen for how much of it they could carry, rather than how good the quality of the provisions were.

"Hey, big guy..." One of the villagers started, slowly stumbling towards Krin and the rest of those packing. "What`s wi' all th' cheap bilge water."

Krin turned towards the man, a dumbfounded expression on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Th' stuff ye`re packin'. `Tis all garbage." The man replied, slurring his words and speaking with an accent that Krin couldn't understand if his life depended on it. Oh, bloody hell. This is gonna be a pain in the ass.

"Well, sir..." Krin paused, scratching his head and averting his gaze in attempt to buy some time. "We are trying to carry as much as we can. After all, this could be a long tri-"

"Oh, I see! Ye`re hoardin' all th' good stuff fer yersef, that 't!?" The man interrupted. "You army types be all th' same. Makin' me stick wi' th' bilge watery grog while down th' good stuff behind me aft. Why, if I had a sword I drive 't into yer neck an' reclaim what`s mine!" The man began walking back towards the crowds, madly cursing and mumbling nonsensical gibberish to himself along the way.

Damned peasant... Krin sighed and proceeded to continue packing goods, quickly dismissing what he had previously heard as little more than a mad man's rambling.

Spoiler: ooc

Well, I'm back and I see you've made a fair deal of progress without me. Joyous.

Also, seeing as I find this random NPC to be somewhat amusing, he might make a few more appearances. If allowed, of course.

 

[ThreeWords]

As Dervish went returned into what must have been his bedroom, Seiben saw Rachel reappear, moving slowly and carrying two packs. He stepped swiftly over and Took one from her, hefting it onto his own back. It wasn't light, but neither was it full; they obviously didn't have everything they would need. "Is there much more to pack?" he asked the girl

Rachel looked up, giving the soldier a quizzical look, then realized the confusion, "We don't need much, sir," she said quietly, "Me and Dervish, we're hunters, see? We used to go up in the highlands for weeks, and we're used to making do on next to nothing." she paused, then added, even softer, "We'd be fine with just one, if it weren't for poor Lana. She took ill a while a go, and she can't hardly manage without us. We'll need all herbs and the like to keep her well, especially with the blizzard."

Sieben nodded, though he knew not what to say. He was saved by the return of Dervish, who was supporting a frail woman, who had once been merely slim, and was now wasted away by some disease. Sieben suppressed a shudder, for he knew too well that such an invalid would never last in the blizzard; and a death early in the evacuation would wreck the morale of the villagers. he looked up to see the girl looking at him, and in her eyes he read the same thoughts. Worse, if she knew it, so did Dervish, and that would be eating him away.

Helping his wife don a thick winter cloak, Dervish said, "Rachel, fetch the bows. We'll go now. Where, sir," he added to Sieben, "Are we to meet?"

"The West Gate," the soldier replied, shifting the pack, then he opened the door and headed out into the storm

 

[TheSentinel]

Silas stocked for the impending voyage. All his life, he wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to help people. He thought his training and years of experience would prepare him for anything. But this? Escorting an entire village to safety, most likely through the already treacherous mountains? Nothing could prepare a man for such a thing. Still, Silas knew he must keep his spirit fiery and comfortable, even if his body was frosted to the bone.

Silas pulled a box of something, apples, he thinks, out of a hut. He lugged it toward the road cutting through the town, awaiting the supply carts to arrive. His winter protection shawl flapped and battered in the wind. It had not been tested in this way before. The icy wind blew with a howl, drowning out most sound around him. This left him with only his thoughts. He did not like to be left alone with them. They keep poor company. Hopefully, everyone can get loaded up and head out soon. Silas had a bad feeling about the next few days. He hopes it doesn't turn out to be prophetic.

 

[Sporky111]

Orson stepped out of the last house in his immediate area and was assaulted yet again by biting wind and snow. He trudged forward into the snow, shielding his eyes. Regret was foremost in his mind as he took the full brunt of the cold. His cloak was still sitting next to his bed, forgotten in the delirious rush to get the evacuation started, and he wouldn't go back for it for fear of reprimand.

After a seemingly endless stretch of waist-deep powder, Orson found his destination. He opened the door and stepped inside, not even knocking. He shook out his hair and beheld his family, finishing the final stages of their packing. There was a large pack for each of his parents, and a smaller bag for his grandfather.

"Orson." his grandfather said, "We've already been warned. Or, are you here to bid farewell to our home?"

His mother rushed over and embraced him, heedless of the stinging cold armour he wore.

"We'll be back." Orson said, trying to foster confidence in them even when he felt none himself.

 

[The Hairminator]

Yan was still cursing by himself in the midst of the blizzard. He pulled his hood tighter over his head, managing to block out the howling sound of snowflakes tumbling by. He watched the people gather, and his state of mind was far from his cheerful old self. He had seen life and death before, he had seen innocents die by the steel of injustice. Many times. Too many times, and with time you become numb, and deep down stop caring about the lives of people you don't know.

This was different however. Falkin was gone. Gone forever. Where would they go? Where would they take these people? Yan watched the crowd with growing despair, and wished he hadn't been sent to guard the gates alone. He needed someone to cheer up.

 

[Yorgmiester]

"Fredrick, hurry!" One of the village wives stood by her front door, her hand on the doorknob, with her baby child tucked against her chest. A young girl stood nearby also, carrying a large bundle. The father was dashing about the house, picking up the last few odds and ends that had been forgotten.

"We have time, Ellie. Don't worry." he said hurriedly, even though his own heart was pounding fast. Snatching up a bundle of shawls from the floor near the fireplace, he ran over to his wife and swiftly began wrapping the baby in yet another layer of protection.

"By the gods, Fredrick, we don't have time for this!" the woman spoke with tears of desperation. It wasn't that she was lazy, or uncaring, it was just that she always got this way when danger or sorrow were close at hand. She panicked.

"Come ON, we have to go!" grabbing at her husbands hands, she started tugging away and trying to get to the door, pushing him as if he was a hindrance to their escape. "Fredrick we cannot delay!" Gently but firmly, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, and he pulled her in tight, hugging the child between the warmth of his parent's bodies.

"Calm, Ellie, calm." He spoke gently to her as several tears ran down her face. "We'll be fine. They won't leave without us." She gradually stopped shaking, instead leaning in closely to huddle in her lover's embrace.

Placing a loving kiss on her forward, he leaned back ."Now, can I wrap the baby?" he said with a smile. She wiped the tears from her eyes and held the child out, and Fredrick wrapped it up in the warm shawls. The process took a few seconds, but it would be worth it.

"There we go. May as well be wearing a fur coat." he said with a grin. She smiled, then headed for the door, this time at a walk. Fredrick took the other child's hand and then pushed the door open, and the family went out into the blizzard, heading for the West Gate. As the bitter cold encased them, the baby began to wail.

~~​

Rinus trudged alongside a large wagon being pulled by a pair of oxen. Behind it was another one, both carried a large supply of food. They were the biggest wagons the village had, and the only oxen it had. There were a trio of cows as well, but they were not cart trained and were being hastily slaughtered behind the tavern. Meat would soon become a commodity.

Otlina emerged out of the darkness to his left, bearing a torch which she was having trouble keeping lit. No words passed between them, as speaking was becoming an increasingly tedious exercise. She had finished and double-checked her run, and now she would accompany him to the West Gate to await the evacuation.

They were joined by several families and a dozen or so loners on their way, and soon the crowd of gathered villagers loomed before them. Ramparts were standing here and there, directing people on where to stand and what to do. Large wool tarps were being passed out and used as makeshift shelter for the young and elderly as they all waited for the stragglers to arrive.

An hour and a half. Not bad. It's a good thing these people know the meaning of danger. Rinus thought as he approached Elndral. It had occurred the him that most of these people probably had no idea why the evacuation was beginning so quickly and suddenly, but they had lived in this harsh land for long enough to know when something was up.

"My men are almost done their rounds!" he yelled into Elndral's face as soon as the two were close enough. Elndral simply nodded, then motioned towards the grouping of wagons and pack horses near the gate, into which the two ox carts were just mingling. "Supplies are ready!"

Rinus nodded in satisfaction. At least something had gone right. Everything was moving smoothly. Glancing towards the direction of the tavern, he noticed Buyir and Cossan approaching, leading the unit's horses. Frigid wind buffeted their manes, and tiny icicles dangled from their mouths and nose, but the animals were happy to be out of the stable.

Turning towards the gate, Rinus waved Yan over. Once the soldier had got within earshot, which was basically right in each other's helmets, Rinus gave his orders. "Yan, you and Buyir are going to do one last sweep of the town, on horseback!" he yelled. "You take the north half, he'll take the south half! Make use of that powerful throat of yours!" he grinned despite the cold and slapped Yan on the back, sending him on his way.

As soon as the soldier was gone, his smile faded. Turning to face the crowd of people, he stood silently and surveyed them, pondering the lives and fates that he now held in his hands.

 

[Shapsters]

Zieg quickly sat up in his bed, he heard a pounding on the door and saw his mother run past his room. He crept to hard doorway that looked down toward the front door as his mother shuffled toward the door,

"Stay in your room Zieg!" she warned before she opened her door, a howl of wind blew through the house and Zieg could hear only parts of the conversation, "Evacuation?- Oh but-"

That was all Zieg heard, but that was all he needed to hear. His eyes widened as his mother shuffled back toward him, a calming look was upon her face as she approached him.

"Zieg, I want you to get your pack from your closet and then gather your important things. Be quick about it and when you are done, get your heavy boots and coat on." she calmly instructed the boy and smiled sweetly, but despite her fiend calmness, her young son could tell she was worried, "Hurry now!"

She lightly pushed him into his room and hurried off into her own. A few minutes later she emerged, carrying the essential supplies for her and her young son, she met Zieg waiting at the front door, admiring the beautiful soldier and bundled up in furs.

"Excellent son, I hope you packed wisely!" she smiled at Aryana, "Should we go now?"

Aryana nodded and ushered the two out of the house. Zieg's mother knew what to pack for because Aryana had warned her of the current situation. The three of them pulled their hoods over their heads as the cold winds nipped at their faces.

"You can put your belongings on the horse and your song can ride her if he wishes. I will walk with you until we reach the West Gate" Zieg nodded and climbed upon the horse, "Hopefully we will be of the last people arriving, I hope that almost everyone has arrived once we get there."

Aryana was fairly calm, but at the same time quite worried. It was people like this she worried most about, young children, women, the elderly. How were they to survive the harsh winter winds and snows, all alone and without warm houses?

 

[The Hairminator]

Yan rode along the houses in the northern part of the town, checking any remaining houses for lights. The snow made his job a lot harder, a few times he wondered jokingly to himself if he'd even be able to find his way back to the gates.
"Easy there, Vin" he leaned forward and mumbled into the horse's ear. Although a horse from the northern lands, even she wasn't prepared for this weather condition.

Yan reached the last house. Empty. He drew a sigh of relief. But as he turned his horse around he saw something. Silhouettes, two persons on foot and one on a horse. As he rode closer he recognized Aryana with two other villagers he vaguely resembled having seen at some point.

As he approached them Aryana turned around with a suprised face, but soon recognized Yan. He leaned down, as close as he could get to her from horseback and yelled, "The gods sure blessed us with nice weather for our little picnic."

 

[Quad08]

Samuel trudged through the deep snow towards the Southern Gate of the town, hoping to find the town guardsmen at there posts and able to help with evacuation.

Muttering every curse he could think of under his breath, Samuel wrapped his fur coat tighter around his as the wind cut into his face through the slits in his helmet, frost beginning to form on his unshaven beard and bushy eyebrows.

The Southern Gate was a tall wooden structure that faced the rocky, uneven road the soldiers had first traveled to this town. A guard tower faced the road, always manned by archer or two. They would be a vital help in the evacuation of the village and journey ahead.

The tower stood tall in the dark night, standing out amongst the snowy white trees past the gate. To his great annoyance, the tower looked empty.

Time to find out if it truly was.

"Hey! Anyone up there!"

He shouted above the wind, his eyes watching for any sign of movement

"Go away!"

Came the faint reply. Arching his eyebrows in curiosity, Samuel made his way forward

"Get down here! You're needed to help with the evacuation!"

"No!"

Came the stubborn reply

"I'm safe up here! They'll never find me!"

Unsheathing his large warhammer, Samuel walked underneath the tower, looking up at the trapdoor above him

"Come on down or I'll smash this thing down!"

"No you won't! You're a solider of honor and justice..."

Samuel laughed

"All I know is that we got allot of cold people and we're going to be needing some firewood"

There was a pause from the unseen voice in the tower before the trap door slowly opened, and a tall, lanky man in faded leather armor with a bow and arrows hoped out, a look of pure terror on his face. Nodding in approval, Samuel grabbed the man by the shoulder and started to lead him away

"Now then, are there any other hiding places we might be able to weed out before we leave?"

The archer shook his head

Samuel smiled

"Good, now lets get to the caravan. We need to get on the move as soon as possible"

 

[Yorgmiester]

The eeriness of an empty space that should clearly be inhabited is something that haunted storytellers, explorers, and historians for centuries. The soldier's mindset that Buyir possessed did not much lessen the affect, as he rode slowly through the desolate northern half of Highburn. The cold, wind, and darkness served only to strengthen the notion that this place was already dead; that battle had already come and passed, leaving nothing but destruction and decay in it's wake. The muddled forms of buildings barely visible around him, although clearly intact, reminded Buyir of ruins.

"Evacuation!" he yelled yet again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. His voice was snatched out of the air as soon as it left his mouth, quickly smothered away in the wind. Little good it did. He also had a small bell, which he rang frequently, but nobody emerged from the houses. Nothing moved, save for the driving snow against his eyes and ears.

A figure appeared through the haze, trudging towards West Gate, and after a few seconds of studying it Buyir recognized it as Ravius. He gave a meager wave, then turned back towards the houses. It was at that moment that his sharp eyes caught a speck of reddish light, where a curtain was hastily closed over a window.

~~​

Ravius was reluctant to acknowledge Buyir's presence with a wave; his arms were already tired enough. Hell, his entire body ached. Just moving in this maelstrom was torture. Instead he chose to simply continue onwards. Or at least he would have, if he had not suddenly noticed Buyir break into a gallop off towards one of the houses.

With a grunt and a groan he navigated his slow, steady stride across the street towards where his fellow soldier had gone. Upon nearing the house, a rather interesting scene materialized in front of him; Buiyir's horse stood shivering just under the eves, Buyit himself stood directly in front of the door, bathed in warm firelight... with a blade pointed at his throat.

"What's all this?" Ravius asked gruffly as he approached, his hand going to the pommel of his own blade. A villager stood just withing the door, a scared yet resolved look on his face. The man held an old sword, probably a family heirloom, in his right hand, it's tip leveled at Buyir's neck. Buyir was glaring at the villager but otherwise not making any sudden moves.

"This man means to force us out of our home." the villager said flatly, clearly making an effort to keep his voice level. "We aint' leavin."

"You have to go!" Buyir said forcefully, shuffling slightly away from the sword tip. The villager maintained his composure, keeping the blade between himself and the soldiers whom he believed were a threat to him. "No, we don't!" he said angrily. "This is ou' home, we mean to stay!"

Ravius peered past the man into the house, where two teenage boys and a large, matronly woman stood. None of them looked like they had any intention of going anywhere. With a sigh, he turned to Buyir and laid a hand on the large man's shoulder. "Let them be."

"No, they've got to come with us!" Buyir exclaimed. "They'll die if they don't!"

"It's their choice."

"We can't just let them die!"

"Yes we can!" Ravius yelled harshly, his frustration and anger suddenly venting through those three words. There was a moment of silence, and the villager slowly lowered his blade, stepping back as the two soldiers stared each other down. Ravius let out a long, frustrated sigh and stepped between Buyir and the door, lowering his voice to speak to his comrade.

"Yes, we can." he repeated slowly. "We're soldiers, not heroes."

Buyir glared at Ravius for several seconds, then at the villager. Stepping away from them, he turned and stalked back to his horse without a word. Ravius threw his hood over his head once more and glanced back at the house with a gloomy look, as the front door shut with a depressing thud.

~~​

Roughly three hundred villagers were finally gathered at the west gate, basically the whole population of Highburn. Six large wagons were laden down with food, supplies, and the elderly, as well as numerous smaller carts that were being towed by donkeys or very strong men. Flags of varying sizes and shapes were being spread throughout the crowd, to prevent people from getting separated from the group. A last, hurried meal of bread and water was being passed around. They were almost ready.

Rinus had gathered a number of the local hunters and trackers in preparation for their trek into the mountains. The closest place that anyone could think of was Rickety, the name the locals had given to an old ruined tower about two day's journey into the foothills and lower skirts of the mountains. The place had served as "hunter's rest", a place where local woodsmen could always come to seek shelter and some rest while out in the wilds. It was abandoned this time of year, but still promised the best, and indeed only location where the villagers could possibly find protection. The woodsmen would be instrumental in guiding everyone through the blizzard.

Looking up from a barely audible conversation with Shilas Onde, the town's expert hunter, Rinus noticed the last of his unit returning. Samuel returned with an archer in tow, Yan and Aryana with a mother and child. Buyir and Ravius were alone.

"You're finally back!" he yelled to them as they approached. "Mount up and prepare to leave! We'll be taking directions from these fine gentlemen." He motioned to Shilas and the group of woodsmen, then trudged off towards his own horse. It was hard to tell, as this weather had everyone in a bad mood, but it seemed that there was some tension in the air between two of his men, namely Ravius and Buyir. They had never got along particularly well.

Shrugging it off for the time being, Rinus reached his steed and stopped for a moment, relishing the relative wind shelter it's large body provided. Then with a sigh, he climbed atop, and turned to face the crowd.

~~​

 

[Shapsters]

Normally Aryana would have chuckled at Yan's quip, he was usually able to make her smile in stressful situations. However, this was, in her mind beyond a stressful situation because despite her calm demeanor and reassuring words, she was evaluating the towns chances of survival. The village was full of young children, women and the elderly, sure there were strong men as well but a man with large muscles has no power over the harsh winter winds. They were sitting ducks out in the wild, and if bandits or wildlife would kill half of the village, then surely the bitter winter would kill the other half?

She glared at him and said no words, he had known her long enough to know that if she did not chuckle at one of his first jokes to not try again. The four of them walked in silence until they reached the West Gate and were instructed by Rinus,

"Yes sir." she responded, pulling the young boy off her horse and climbing aboard the tall, white horse herself, "Ready to leave sir."

She stared out into the blank, white wilderness in front of her. That is where they were taking this village, into the snowy, seemingly endless death trap in front oh them. For the first time in her adult life, Aryana had stopped assessing the situation, for she was terrified about what was to come. So scared, that she didn't want to think about the horror that awaited them once they left the safe, reassuring walls of the village and wandered into the lifeless death trap of the mountains.

Her full, red lips cracked and bled in the harsh cold, a lone tear ran down her cheek.