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    Song of the Moment
    by LulzA

    Alistair watched in awe as the show went on below. "This is amazing." He commented to his newfound friend. The ranger was never one to be impressed by any type of magic, but there was something powerful about the crystals and the energies they breathed into the world. When all four pillars were glowing, a blinding light overtook the square, forcing Alistair to shield his eyes until it all darkened again. When he looked at the stage, he knew something wasn't right. The only pillar remaining was a raging pillar of flames and the King of Dasuto Umi, that had taken center with a hand stretched to the heavens. Alistair felt a sudden sense of dread come over him, his hunter's instincts kicking in. Time and space seemingly being distorted all around him. "It's dangerous to remain here!." He yelled to Cirrus, but before he could jump from the balcony a powerful shockwave erupted outwards from the stage throwing Alistair against the building behind him, his head bashed hard against the stone. He fell to his knees immediately, his vision blurred and a terrible ringing in his ears. But there was no mistaking what he heard. Screams of terror as everyone below was blown to pieces by the forbidden magics at work. He tried to regain his footing but his attempt was feeble, as one of the blasts of magic struck the building he was on he was flung to the square below.

    When Alistair regained consciousness he heard more screams and sounds of blood splattering across stone. He stared up at a blurry shadow hovering over him. As his vision focused the shadow became a terrifying form of a walking corpse missing a large portion of it's head. It let out a guttural scream as it lashed towards the Ranger's face, Alistair only barely able to roll out of the way. He stumbled to his feet, feeling a sharp pain in his chest, likely the result of a fractured rib. With his breathing labored and sharp pains at the slightest movements he reached to his back for his bow, grabbing nothing but air. "Dammit." He cursed the misfortune as he instead reached into his boot for his hunting knife. "Come on and attack me you ugly ghoul bastard. I'll gladly kill you a second time." The creature lunged forward prompting Alistair to step to the side and bring the knife down into the top of it's head, the blow knocked it straight to the ground but didn't stop it. It grabbed at his leg and pulled him down with it. He hit the ground with a thud, feeling the sharp pain in his chest again. The creature climbed on top of him, but Alistair wouldn't be killed so easily. He stabbed it in the face and knocked it to the ground beside him. Finally ending it's wretched afterlife.

    Breathing heavily he stood up straight, surveying the area for his dragoon friend, what he saw disturbed him to no end. Hundreds of the undead shambling about the square, attacking anything that moved and in the center of it all the imposter king laughing maniacally at his creations.


      "It's dangerous to remain here!." Alistair yelled to Cirrus, who didn't quite have the same instincts as his friend. He assumed this was another part of the ceremony, and was about to say as much when the dark magic activated and blasted everyone back. After the fact, Cirrus could clearly remember seeing the effects- The epicenter was pretty much center-stage, and there was a perfect circle of impact where the audience was pushed back, ever-expanding. The invisible force that caught them hit the balcony as well, and both the occupants and anything loose were pushed back. Alistair bounced off solid brick and away from Cirrus, who crashed through a glass door and landed inside of the building. He struggled to get to his feet, then what felt like an earthquake passed by and knocked him down to his knees. It happened several more times, and through the broken door he could see red missiles shooting through the sky. Each time one hit the ground, another violent quake set off, so Cirrus decided that being inside would be safer than outside at the time.

      After a short eternity of explosions, things seemed to have died down, and Cirrus was still alive and conscious. Sure, he was rattled like dice in a tin cup, but he managed to survive. How many others did, though?

      His father was on the other side of town, but what about his mom and sister? They were so excited to see the Requiem ceremony that they ran ahead, they had to have... Cirrus forced himself not to think about his family, just concentrated on walking straight for the moment. He reached the doorway and looked out to see absolute hell stretched before him. There was a ring of corpses around the stage as if to give emphasis to what was happening on it. The imposter king Ebraham had impaled King Farrel, and who was gloating over what he had accomplished.
      "Your Wind Crystal is mine." Ebraham declared, taking the green gem and dumping His Majesty's body.

      The bastard had assissinated Puerto De Oro's royalty, slaughtered its citizens, and from the looks of it he bulldozed her architecture as well. Cirrus had never in life felt such hatred for one man, and he was momentarily consumed by it. With every joint aching and most of his muscles throbbing, he bent down to pick up a twisted metal bar that was blown separate from whatever it was a part of before. Both ends were jagged and sharp, and it was just about long enough to be a dagger. Basically, it was the perfect debris to plunge between Ebraham's ribcage.

      "Festum concisas carnes et mortui resurgent viventium. Dance Defunctorum." Ebraham's cursed lips let out another magical incantation, this one almost subtle compared to what preceded it. A sickly purplish-whitish glow pulsed and spread out to cover the ground like a mist, then slowly faded. After a few seconds of silence, Cirrus started hoping the spell backfired. But then there were movements within the crowd until the vast majority of bodies were moving around. Cirrus smiled in surprise, thinking that there weren't nearly as many casualties as he had expected. But after only a few seconds the movements gave the shambling monsters away to what they were- zombies that he raised from the dead.

      "This can't be happening," Cirrus whispered in shock. No mortal being could have that much power, or at least he had been told. He looked on in horror as the walking corpses filed out through the streets and into the rest of the city, probably off to finish off the rest of the devastation of the city. He wanted to jump down from his perch and assassinate them, to thin out their numbers so that he could minimize the damage his hometown took, but for all of his wants he might as well wish to go back in time to avoid the catastrophe as it happened. He just sat there, heartbroken, waiting for this next danger from the bastard king to subside. Until then, he ducked back into the relative safety of the bombed-out building so as not to be seen, and listened to the carnage around him.

      Not nearly enough of the zombies had left for him to attempt an escape, at least not a confident one, but he felt like he was going insane hiding in the shelter. Finally, an opportunity came to him in the form of a familiar voice;

      "Come on and attack me you ugly ghoul bastard. I'll gladly kill you a second time."

      Cirrus' head shot out past the wall and looked down, witnessing Alistair take out a particularly mangled zombie. The monsters around him took notice and started shambling in his direction, but Cirrus had never felt happier from finding out he wasn't the only survivor. He dropped from the balcony onto another zombie and jammed the metal he was carrying into its chest. He wrenched it free and put his back to Alistair, trusting his friend to cover him.

      "Thank Odin you're still alive," Cirrus said, picking out which of the townspeople he was going to take out next.
      Originally posted by Wade
      Everything is hidden in plain sight, like in Men in Black. We've all just been neuralized to think it is "normal".



        "You know how many of your shipmates drank that poison? You should probably go check on them before they die" The assassin was a cheeky little thing.

        "One-Eye! To the sternpost storeroom with yeh; all antidotes to the deck. I be takin' our new friend to the brig!'

        RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE. The deck shook violently and all attention turned back toward the city. And then the world went crazy.

        "CRASH!" Waves of magical force bombarded the ship, tossing all hands on deck overboard and splitting the hull wide open. From mast to bowsprit, the front half of the ship plows through the docks and strikes a warehouse, and flips over and into a tariff office. The severed rear half takes on water and sinks into the harbor...storerooms and all.

        "ME SHIP! ME BEAUTIFUL SHIP!" The Hellfish has had to abandon his anchor in the harbor...unable to haul it and swim for shore at the same time. The assassin has escaped (shot in the back and cast into rough waters and most certainly having a bad day...but hes escaped).

        Any chance of getting antidotes to the poisoned crewman has sunk with the stern and stock. Bugger that...the Hellfish can get a new crew...but his Ship!!!!!!

        A foul wind blows from Center City. It carries maniacal laughter and the soulless moans of the undead. From there comes whatever dastardly deed be responsible for sinking his ship...The Hellfish is sure of it...

        "OI! I'M GONNA GET YA!" Its berserking time. The enraged pirate charges into the undead horde with arms outstretched like battering rams and doesn't stop plowing through corpses until he finds a zombie with a battleaxe.

        With a skull-crunching hammerfist and a violent jerking motion, the zombie's battleaxe is now the captain's battleaxe. Its no anchor, but it will do. The Captain presses on to ground zero.

        "SEVEN HELLS! Whats this about!?" Captain Hellfish cleaves his way over to a dragoon and a ranger fighting for their lives. They're hard men...they'd be dead if they weren't. That much is plain. They must have some idea whats going on.

        Before they can speak, an undead shambler the Captain had thought rightly slain begins moaning and clawing at his boots. Its nary more than a pair of arms attached to a severed torso and half a head, but it moans and claws.

        Captain Hellfish steps on it.

        "Are ya daft lads!? SPEAK UP!"

        Last edited by Post-Crisis Shob; July 11th, 2015, 02:14 AM.


          "Boom!" The deafening sound of the ship being blown to bits was the last thing he heard before the explosion knocked him into the sea to drown. Luciano felt a sharp pain in his back after he regained his senses before swimming back to shore, unsure of what was going on. He turned his head to see the remains of Hellfish's ship after it was torn apart by the blast and it all came back to him. The last thing he remembered was that he was shot from behind after planning to assassinate the ship's captain and then everything fading to white, after that he found himself in the ocean just a few meters away from the shore. He continued to swim, or at least what movements his body could muster, fighting against the sharp pains in his back until he eventually got back to shore.

          "That man isn't dead." He chuckled to himself. "Maybe i'll get to settle the score with him soon. I need to find help at the moment." He slowly picked himself up and began to limp back to the city, or what was left of it.

          As he approached the now decimated city, a trio of zombies approached him. He instantly recognized the smell of death that they carried, a smell that he was well accustomed to. "What the hell happened? Just how long was I out?"

          Suddenly, one of the zombies lunged at him and Luciano instinctively threw a throwing knife at the monster, stabbing it in the head. Much to his surprise, this didn't slow the zombie down one bit and unable to react due to his injuries, he was greeted with a zombie fist to the face that sent him flying and hitting the ground hard.

          "Celero" Luciano chanted without hesitation. Time began move in slow motion around him, as he got up to his feet as fast as he could, and ran towards the city. The zombies began to follow him though they weren't fast enough to catch up with him and were eventually left behind. He needed answers as to what was going on, so he ran in spite of the pain he felt in his back.


            "OI! I'M GONNA GET YA!" was heard off in the distance. Greg assumed it was simply a citizen cursing the being who made this nightmare come to realization."This who crap is nuts...I need to find a god damn boat and get out of here before its too late" he complained beginning to drag his staff from exhaustion. Although the staff looked rather light, it was actually considerably heavy because of all the mana stored in its crystal.

            Halfway towards the docks, Gregory sensed a sudden spike in magical power heading towards him at break-neck speed. It couldn't have been a zombie, as the average mana signature would link to the Dark Mage's. Howevert they simply did not match. He cut onto the users path and waved his staff at hopes whatever to come would stop.

            [Gregory Marsh]


              Luciano spotted the man that stood in the path he was travelling in from a few meters away and slowed himself down so he would stop a few feet in front of him. He noticed that the man was wearing Black Mage robes. Was he the one who caused all this? Not likely. If he was the guy, he would have been blown to bits by now. Luciano grunted in pain as he fell to one knee out of exhaustion, and took a few deep breaths. That spike of adrenaline he had before was now gone; now it felt impossible to continue running in his condition. "Hello. Do you know what has caused this mayhem?" He greeted the man between deep breaths.


                "SEVEN HELLS! Whats this about!?" A thickly accented voice boomed over the general commotion of the undead. Cirrus turned to see a bear of a man positively tearing through zombies. Good, he thought, another fighter that can keep zombies away. Another survivor of this attack.

                "Are ya daft lads!? SPEAK UP!"

                "We were attacked by King Ebraham!" Cirrus explained. He emphasized Ebraham's name by jamming his metal rod into the eye socket of one of the zombies. When it didn't stop moving, he grabbed the monster's shoulder and the handle of the weapon and twisted them, snapping its neck. Now he was out of a weapon, at least for the time being. "He cast some kind of Chaos-level magic that wiped out most of the town and turned them into zombies!" One of the stumbling nightmares wandered in his direction, and without a weapon to kill it with, Cirrus hit it with a right hook, smashing his metal greaves into the undead's face and breaking its teeth. At least it couldn't bite them.
                Originally posted by Wade
                Everything is hidden in plain sight, like in Men in Black. We've all just been neuralized to think it is "normal".


                  Surprised at his sudden drop, Gregory flinched and stepped a foot back. "Hello. Do you know what has caused this mayhem?" the man asked clearly in pain. It was at this moment he reached in an attempt to give him a helping hand.

                  "Yes...but we surely do not have time for me to explain. All I shall tell you is this, there is an extremely powerful mage here who can deal catastrophic damage in an instant. You were coming from the docks yes? Are there any boats?" he replied in urgency. Gregory had a well thought out plan that would hopefully benefit the two.

                  [Gregory Marsh]


                    Watching the stage through the rifle's scope, Jack had very good view of the Crystal Requiem ceremony. "Two-thousand and two-hundred years ago, Ivalice was on the precipice of ruination. A great darkness arose from the eastern lands and sought to rain despair across the world..." The old story of the four Warriors was being told. Jack had heard it his whole life and had no real reason to doubt it. He had seen warriors give their lives for many causes, and he had seen powerful magic at work in the world. Everything fit, as far as he could tell. He didn't doubt it like many of his contemporaries did and definitely agreed with the idea of a celebration for those who had sacrificed themselves for their nations. "The Black Mage bore the power of the Fire Crystal. They say he burned with desire, vigor, and daring." Jack noticed a particularly malicious look on the Datsuu king's dark face. He had met King Ebraham personally more than once in military ceremonies and this expression felt very off from the man he knew. As soon as the king began laughing and cracks formed on his face, Jack knew that he was an impostor! Lining his cross hair over the impostor king's chest, he readied his rifle. The sedative-coated cold round was still loaded, he would incapacitate this impostor. He pulled the trigger as the word "Ultima!" erupted from the false king's lips.

                    The bullet was caught midair by the distortion and sent flying off in a different direction as the spell launched blasts of energy in every direction, killing nearly everybody and causing several nearby buildings to crumble. The balcony Jack was standing on caught a blast and plummeted towards the ground, bringing him down with it. Moments later he awoke in a daze and attempted to reassess his situation. It was an absolute horror to see the carnage around him. Bodies were everywhere, buildings were completely devastated and on the stage was the King Farrell, impaled by the impostor. Jack bolted for the stage, leaving his rifle behind, and grabbed the knife from his belt. The corpses slowed him along the way, reminding him that there had been absolutely no survivors near the stage. This madman had murdered scores of thousands in an instant. As he neared the stage, the impostor finished an incantation."...Dance Defunctorum." The shock wave of the spell hit Jack full force and threw him off his feet. Around him, bodies were rising up with pained cries as the Necromantic spell brought them into undead existence. It was too late before Jack realized the spell had affected him too. Reaching for the Holy Water in his satchel, he was devastated to realized it had been lost when the balcony fell. He fought the pounding headache and ache to consume delicious, coppery blood-covered flesh. He felt his body begin to stiffen and his movements become less fluid as he ran back towards the place he left his rifle. Using the last of his articulate movement he slung the rifle over his shoulder and proceeded to look for his satchel.

                    "I h...have to find my s-s-stuuufff.." His thoughts were becoming jumbled and cumbersome "W-what was I loooking f-... food. FOOD! EEEEAAAAT! KIIIIIILLLL!! N-no... need h-help..."

                    He shuffled down the alleyway, keeping his thoughts about him as best as he could. His only hope for anyone noticing was that he wasn't an actual corpse... yet. Maybe if he could just somebody, anybody... He felt his tongue go limp and his jaw lock up as he did his best to groan:

                    "HUUUURRRRRPPPFF....MEEEHHHH..." (Help me.)
                    Last edited by Tyler_D; July 12th, 2015, 06:23 AM.


                      Preparing to creep through Hellfish's vessel, Decker was struck with the overwhelming feeling that something was, quite simply, wrong. The celebrations had stopped, it was quiet. With the sound of an off blast in the distance however he regained his confidence and steeled himself for his current goal.

                      "Must be the fireworks," he muttered with a dismissive tone, only to have his thoughts abruptly broken by the ship itself sending him hurling overboard, it's burly form literally breaking apart with an impressive explosion. Quickly steadying his thoughts, Decker began to swim for land, panicking and worrying about what could have possibly caused this chaos. Clambering onto the Docks, his thoughts were, yet again, broken by a figure shambling towards him. Dismissing it as a drunk, Decker was horrified when it's true form was revealed by the nearby lighting; a rancid, decaying abomination recently broken down into a mindless zombie. Shoving it aside, Charlie scanned the nearby area in an attempt to plan a reasonable course of action. The crew of the ship were drowning, if they weren't dead already. Nobody to save there. The captain was heading for the centre; evidently, at least from a distance, he hadn't been made into one of the abominations.

                      "I need to know what did this before I skip town," he thought, turning a corner to head back to the ceremony. He was greeted by a small horde of shambling corpses and quickly decided that the grounds simply wouldn't be safe for him to traverse. Clambering onto a nearby building be began to head back in, using his impressive agility to jump between the buildings that were close together; minding the inevitable rubble and debris that might hinder him. Finally making it to the centre, he was able to gain a grasp of the sheer devastation that had been caused. And, perhaps more importantly, the threat that the city now faced. He wondered if the standing force in the city; the mere mortal warriors, would be able to hold out against this power. Turning around to head back, he was greeted with three more of the walking corpses.

                      "At least I don't need to hold back," he grimly remarked before assuming a combat stance and readying to fight.
                      Last edited by Delirium; July 10th, 2015, 11:14 PM.


                        Edina grunted as she was thrown against a wall from the force of the spell. She fell to the ground, discombobulated, and used the strength she had left to force herself to stand up. Who the hell is that, she thought, who was powerful enough to cause such a blast? Several of the people in front of her were killed, and she was in awe at being still alive by whatever miracle had protected her. Everything in her body ached, however, and she had a hard time even walking. She disappeared behind one of the buildings, determined to regroup with her people. She didn't care about everyone who just died, what was important was getting to safety and figuring out what to do next. As she was walking back, one of the undead must have seen her, because it started to walk after her while she traversed the alleys to her hideout. She never noticed it the whole time, but it was slow anyway. She entered the hideout and nearly stumbled in, coughing.

                        "Blackrose, Ma'am! What happened?" one of them asked as he and a few others rushed to her aid. They helped her stand.

                        "The crystal requiem.. Something.. Some magician.. Killed everyone.." She took a seat. "I survived, but just barely. I don't know what else happened after that, I left as soon as I could stand."

                        "It's alright, ma'am. Whoever did this to you, we'll pay them back!"

                        "No.. don't concern yourselves with it, not now.. His power is monstrous. We need to do something though."

                        Suddenly there was a banging on the door. "Answer it," she commanded one of them. The man slid open the eye hole and to his surprise, it was a woman who looked rather bloody and pale. She moaned, banging at the door still.

                        "Hey! Who are you?" he demanded. No answer.

                        He started to open the door, when Blackrose called him. "Don't open it. What do you see?"

                        "It looks like a walking corpse, ma'am! She's all pale and her eyes are glazed over with madness!"

                        Blackrose handed one of her men Poppy. "Shoot it for me, I can't hardly get up." The goon went to the door and shot it in the head through the eye hole. "That man must have used some kind of necromancy on the townspeople. We have to be on our toes." The goon returned her gun.

                        "What's our next order of business, ma'am?"

                        "Well, I'm going to need to heal up first. Post two watches outside the door."

                        "Yes ma'am!" Two male goons, a warrior class and a lancer, posted outside the door with their weapons.

                        "I'll need a marksman in the top room too, to aid them from the window."

                        "Yes ma'am!" A marksman class woman grabbed her rifle and went upstairs.

                        "Someone bring me soup. I want some soup."

                        A couple of goons went to make her soup.


                          "Ebrahim sunk me ship!?" The captain took stock of the culprit; this was no foe to be blindly rushed. It would take a crew to fight him; better armed and better trained then his last. Nay...he couldn't be rushed. But the Captain needed a new ship, and the mad sorcerer needed a stern comeuppance. "Ho-hum; ol King-o-Ghouls won't mind me liberatin' a frigate o' the Royal Navy, will he?" The Captain turns back toward the docks, regarding the dragoon and the ranger. Armor and a sharpshot; 2 very good things to have. "What say ye' lads? Thar be a spot in me crew in it for ya!" The Hellfish neglected to mention that said "crew" now consisted entirely of he, himself, and whosoever he could gather on the way back down to the city wharf. "Lucky that; I be look in' for a new first mate!" The Hellfish also neglected to mention that just moments earlier, his last matey died soiling himself.
                          Last edited by Post-Crisis Shob; July 10th, 2015, 11:29 PM.


                            Alistair was thankful to see the knight still alive and grateful to have his help. "Thank Odin you're still alive," Cirrus had commented to him. "Heh" the ranger loosed a short laugh. "Only barely alive, I'm afraid. I took some damage in my fall and can barely move." He put his free hand to his chest where he was feeling the effects of a fractured rib. "By the way, you wouldn't have seen a b-" "SEVEN HELLS! Whats this about!?" a rough voice interrupted Alistair's question. The Hellfish barreled his way through dozens of the ghouls then proceeded to smash one's head with his foot alone. "Are ya daft lads!? SPEAK UP!"

                            "What manner of beast is this?" It was all Alistair could think as Cirrus explained the situation to the newcomer. "Ebrahim sunk me ship!? Ho-hum; ol King-o-Ghouls won't mind me liberatin' a frigate o' the Royal Navy, will he? What say ye' lads? Thar be a spot in me crew in it for ya! Lucky that; I be look in' for a new first mate!" Alistair wasn't especially fond of boats or large bodies of water, but any place away from this nightmare would be an improvement. However, they had obstacles in their way that would surely prevent them from moving forward. Namely, the several dozen ghouls that were quickly surrounding them. "You make a tempting proposition, Sir. However I'm afraid our guests have other plans." He stopped for a moment to wave his small hunting knife around. "I'm also sorry to report that I'm well out of my element in close quarters combat. I'll be nigh useless to you without my bow."


                              As Idris exited the alley, he saw the woman in white from earlier. At first sight he assumed she might have been one of the zombies but she did not have the trademark eyes of the undead. This woman was the one from earlier and when she had cast the protection spell it was confirmed she had been a white mage. He stopped for a moment and looked back at the main roads still filled with zombies chewing on their meals. The scraps left anyway. A dozen or so were shambling towards them. And as far as he could see there were hundreds just in the square alone. Probably more all over the city as well. This was straight out of those horror stories from back in the day of the Warriors of Light. This woman only seemed slightly injured, all things considered, during this chaos. And seemingly not by an undead horde. " T-thank you. " He managed to get out. Mostly out of shock of seeing a survivor that wasn't about to get eaten.

                              " We need to get some place safe. We won't last long out here at all. The docks are our best be- " Idris was cut off by the sound of a gun shot. " Idiot..." he thought. The undead would be attracted to such a sound. And sure enough the undead who were shambling towards them began shambling towards the source of the gun shot. Which was unfortunately still dangerously close to the three. The zombies began making their way down the alley ways drawing ever closer to the sound. Perhaps some poor soul got trapped by these things and decided to take their death in to their own hands but there was always the possibility someone was walling themselves up in one of the buildings fighting for their lives. Then there was another gunshot. From higher up now and the red mage looked up to see a woman with a rifle in the window. Though not some scared citizen who didn't know what they were doing. Perhaps she and other survivors were there held up? It would definitely be safer in numbers but the undead could also be upon them all soon.

                              Part of him said to leave with the white mage to go to the docks. This was one of those situations where you couldn't save everyone and he had his own family member to worry about people who with every shot they took at the zombies made more and more attracted to that spot. But the other part of him reminded him that these were peoples' lives at stake in there as well. Perhaps other families. Either way, it would eventually be suicide to try. He looked back to his new companion, hoping for a tie breaking opinion. Some sort of moral opinion that either way he could live with acting upon.


                                "All of the boats were destroyed. Not a single one left." Luciano replied as he took the man's hand and helped himself up. "There should be a few survivors here. We could regroup with them and fight the zombies off. But I'm in no condition to be running around." As curious as he was for answers, his top priority was getting medical attention. He would soon be dead weight if he didn't get the help he needed.

                                "Surely there must be someone with healing magic, or even a White Mage around here." He asked. "I just need someone to heal my wounds. Then I may be of use to you."
                                Last edited by Max; July 11th, 2015, 12:02 PM.


                                  Alistair mentions that hes useless without a bow.

                                  "Bullocks lad; you know how to use one of these, don't yeh?" The Captain unholsters his flintlock pistol and musket and hands them over to the ranger. "Take it; I'm shite with 'em. Till we get yeh a proper bow."

                                  The captain is coming down from his berserker bloodrush and seeing--not just looking, but for the first time truly the scope of the destruction around him. Truthfully now he doubts he'll find a single seaworthy ship in the entire city. If it can even still be called a city. Rubble Field rings more true. But it has to be worth a shot. They'll be all manner of wreckage washing up ashore; its as good a place as any to try and find a new bow for Allistar (or whatever else they might need to escape from this hellhole). And the coastline seems as good an escape route as any they're likely to find.


                                    Any kind of doubt Cirrus may have had about the Captain dissipated when he handed off his pistol to Alistair without a second thought, although he would have gladly given his allegiance regardless.

                                    "You wouldn't happen to have any kind of a spear handy, would you?" Cirrus asked, painfully aware that he couldn't do much without some weapon. As it stood, he was just throwing zombies around so they weren't a threat for however long it took for them to stand up. The plaza had been very nicely vacated, but there were still too many of the walking dead for him to scavenge anything, and none of the enemies seemed to be armed anyway.
                                    Originally posted by Wade
                                    Everything is hidden in plain sight, like in Men in Black. We've all just been neuralized to think it is "normal".


                                      "All of the boats were destroyed. Not a single one left." the man replied as he accepted Gregory's help. Dreading his answer he shook his head "Damn it all". The thoughts of how to better the situation ran through his mind. However at the moment he could come up with nothing to say.

                                      "There should be a few survivors here. We could regroup with them and fight the zombies off. But I'm in no condition to be running around. Surely there must be someone with healing magic, or even a White Mage around here." He asked obviously in seek of medical attention. Gregory briefly closed his eyes to focus his sensing on the mana signatures in the town. "I found a pure mana signature. This means he,she, or it contains the ability to use white magic, sorcery which heals to be specific" he replied.

                                      Suddenly, Gregory noticed a fairly large crate in a nearby alley. Surely this crate would be able to contain the both of them. "I have an idea, since you and I are in no condition to fight hop in that crate over there." Gregory said while pointing to the alley. He ran over making little noise as he also sensed a couple zombies nearby. Once near the crate, he lifted himself inside and sat waiting for his new acquaintance.
                                      Last edited by World Order; July 11th, 2015, 05:29 PM.

                                      [Gregory Marsh]


                                        "I've seen enough," Decker muttered with disgust. He wondered if the city really would be lost; at the very least, he could from his vantage point see the odd straggler attempting to fight off the hordes of shambling corpses.

                                        "No point in trying to save anyone, this is a lost cause. Better skip town now," he thought, finishing off the last zombie with a penetrating blow to the chest before lifting it and throwing it off the nearby balcony. With haste he began to double back to the Docks; his plan was simple. If his ship was in one piece, he'd get in and ride it out and head down to the nearest city, keeping as close to the mainland as feasibly possible. Once he reached a city, he'd alert them to the threat of this figure before getting as far away as possible. If his ship was destroyed, and at this point it seemed likely, he'd dive for what belongings he could (any coin, the loot from tonight's exploits) and either attempt to use his agility to scale the walling or swim out and circle round the city, heading on foot to the nearest settlement. He'd let people know what was coming, sure, but ultimately his safety was what would matter in this situation.

                                        A gunshot broke his train of thought; "At the very least it'll draw attention away from myself," he grimly muttered before preparing to move onwards. Carefully manoeuvring back towards the Docks along the rooftops, Decker made every attempt to avoid any combat with the now zombified citizenry that happened to be on the rooftops at the time. Reaching the Docks, Decker was able to grasp the sheer magnitude of the damage done to the scene. Quite bluntly, everything was in tatters. Jumping down, Decker headed towards his own ship, stopping at it's location. It was heavily damaged, and certainly wouldn't survive any feasible journey, but perhaps it might last for simply sailing out and around the walls to nearby land. Decker leaned down, inspecting it and weighing his options.
                                        Last edited by Delirium; July 11th, 2015, 06:54 PM.


                                          Luciano followed Gregory to the empty crate and watched as he crouched down and hid inside. Luciano followed suit, and stepped into the crate and crouched down across from his new companion. "What now?" He asked. Sitting and waiting in this crate until someone spotted them, wasn't really the most optimal solution to their problem, he thought. Surely, Gregory must have some other plan to get them out of this mess. At first he'd considered going back down to the underground tavern in the outskirts of town, but it was too far away for him to travel in this condition. "If we can't find anyone to help us, then the next best thing to do would be to raid a few shops for medical supplies. Surely there must be a few around."