Gathering in Defense of Darkshire

[Kelly MacAryn]

As he crossed the threshold of the Darkshire gates, a mildewed, erosion-pocked limestone arch hosting a pair of massive iron-bound wooden doors, Kelly was very nearly overcome by a wave of vertigo. The stress and exertion of the entire night seemed to catch up to him all at once, and he had to lean heavily on his staff to keep from falling over, staring down at wet, dirty cobblestones while his vision pulsed. 

It's official: Setting out without a real weapon was a stupid decision. Just because I could summon one if I needed one didn't mean I'd get the chance.

He frowned. Failing to over-prepare, he was fairly certain, wasn't like him. 

I rushed into this. The return of my haunt made me overconfident. Also, somehow, I guess I didn't expect to get tired. I don't think that used to happen to me. 

Lesson learned - just because I'm regaining some of my advantages doesn't mean I can afford to skimp on due diligence. 

Kelly's introspective analysis was interrupted when he became dimly aware that someone was talking. He blinked hard, shaking his head in an effort to clear the fog from his mind, and looked up into the sallow, stubbled face of an obviously concerned guard. 

"Could you repeat that?" the traveler croaked. 

"I asked you, sir, if you need help." said the guard.

The man didn't look sick exactly, but he didn't look healthy either - too much stress and not enough sleep, if Kelly was any judge. His equipment, on the other hand, was well maintained and well used : oiled chain-mail and leather, with a battered but still serviceable helmet. There was a buckler on his arm and a short-sword at his hip.  

"I'll be alright, though I appreciate your concern. I'm a prime," Kelly said, clearing his throat. "I heard about the upcoming attack, and I came here to help you... At the moment though, I could use a place to rest. It's been a long night." 


The guard snorted, scratched at the back of his neck and muttered something Kelly didn't quite catch. Aloud, he said, "There's an empty cell in the basement of the gate-house that you could use. It's warm and dry, and the rats are pretty tame. Otherwise, if you'd prefer something a little more posh, there are taverns in town with rooms to rent." 

Kelly thought about it, pictured himself falling face-first in the street on his way to a tavern and just falling asleep right there on the cobbles. He looked around. There was a sturdy, gray stone tower beside the gate, its parapet even with the town's walls. It had archery slits facing the road, and a single wooden door. The rest of the town loomed nearby, wet bricks, dark wood and stained granite looking gnarled and sickly in the gray morning light. 
 
"The gate-house will be fine. Just remember I'm down there, please. In spite of appearances, if anything happens, I can help."

The little cell was mostly as-advertised - a small stone room with a door of iron bars dividing it in two, accessed by a trap-door in the gatehouse.  There was a barrel of rainwater in the corner, and a pile of dry hay on the floor. Kelly leaned his staff against the wall, lay down on the hay,  and fell asleep before his eyes were all the way closed.



He awoke in the middle of the afternoon, feeling much better, but also slightly confused. 

The traveler had dreamed of penguins, with strangely articulated flippers and squawky little voices. Penguins wearing labcoats. Penguins in mechanized armor firing great, big guns. Penguins eating elaborately unhealthy dinners, side-by-side with human beings and other, less familiar creatures. 

Right before he woke up, a bird with little red and orange feathered crests on his head and a suede red leather vest had poured him a drink, and told him he was still forgetting something important. 

Kelly sat up and rubbed his face. 

That's the second time time in two days. 'Something important'... I'm forgetting a lot of things. It would be nice if my subconscious would give me some actual details. 

While he tried in vain to sort out why his brain was full of birds, Kelly used the water-barrel to clean himself up. By the time he was finished, the contents had turned oily and black. The next order of business was his wounds. He spent three more hours sitting somewhat impatiently still, drawing on his Omnilium reserves to repair the gash in his torso and the worst of his cuts and bruises. 

After that, it was just a matter of summoning himself a new shirt and tying his hair back in place. Even that small delay was irritating. 

In the end, I guess I didn't save any time at all. It's only luck I've had the opportunity to recover - I need to do better than this. 

With bitter self-recrimination driving the penguins from his thoughts, Kelly took up his staff and climbed the ladder. 

It was past time he introduced himself to the people in charge of Darkshire's defense.

[Kelly MacAryn]

Kelly was annoyed to discover that while the trap-door leading to the gate-house's ground-level was open, an iron grate had been placed over the threshold. Close examination, and one or two good shoves, revealed it was secured somehow to the stone floor outside by a thick chain woven between the bars, and fastened with a padlock the size of his fist. 

Typical.

The prisoner rapped on the bars three times with the end of his staff, called "Hello?" and waited for a response. 


I guess I shouldn't be surprised. They're preparing for a siege, and I didn't exactly arrive looking my best. In retrospect, offering me the cellar was probably a calculated move. I wonder what would have happened if I'd said I wanted to find an inn? 

"Sarge!" yelled a man he couldn't see, a young voice cracking with excitement, "The stranger we left in the lockup's awake!"

Kelly climbed back down the ladder and waited, using the time to further straighten his ponytail, and to roll some residual stiffness out of his neck and shoulders. The joints popped. Although he was mostly healed, save for some moderate-to-minor cuts and lingering bruises, his muscles were still tight from the previous night's trials, afire with ephemeral aches. 

After a brief time, the prisoner heard voices above him, in whispered conversation. One was the voice that had called out. The other was, presumably, the Sargeant. The hushed discussion went on for about a minute, and when it stopped, a helmeted face appeared, kneeling by the grate. It was the gaunt, tired-looking fellow who'd directed Kelly here, looking down at the prisoner with an expression that was equal parts thoughtful and dour. 

"Hello again,"  said Kelly. "I hope you're feeling as rested as I am." 

The Sargeant's pale lips twitched. 

"You're funny. Well, funny-man, I'll make this short. Earlier, you said you were a prime. Show me, and answer a couple of simple questions, and I'll let you out of there. Otherwise, here you stay until someone has the time to deal with you. D'you understand?" 

Kelly nodded. "Completely." He said, and held out his hand, calling forth a scintillating, prismatic orb. It cast dazzling rainbow shadows on the walls as it pulsed with possibility. The guard made a satisfied noise, nodding his head in turn, and the prisoner closed his fist, snuffing out the ball of Omnilium.

"Good enough?" 

"It'll do. Now - Who are you, and why'd you come here? Are a part of the Darkshire garrison?" 

Kelly shook his head. "My name is Kelly MacAryn, and I've never been here before. As for why I'm here now, a man called Forester contacted me. He told me your town was under threat, and I agreed to help."

"You agreed? Just like that?" 

"It wasn't a hard decision. Leaving aside the fact that I'm a person who values lives, if Darkshire falls, Count Dracula gains control of the Pale Moors. Speaking in terms of the overall strategic situation, that's a disaster I'd prefer to avoid." 

The Sargeant frowned, squinting down at the Prime in the pit. 

"'The Overall Strategic Situation?'"

Kelly smiled warmly. "I take as a wide a view of events as I can."

"Riiight... Why is your blood purple?" 

"Because I'm not completely human. It's not a secret. But I'm not a monster either - just a different kind of person."

"And you came here alone."

"Yes."  

The Sargeant rubbed his stubbled chin with a leather-gloved hand. He sighed heavily, the beleaguered weight of decision written plainly on his features.

"Well, we know you can fight - the boys on the walls saw you doing in that monster. And heaven knows we could use a few more Primes right about now."

The man retrieved something from his belt, fiddling with the chains. The lock opened with a resounding CLANG!

"I've got other places to be. Don't make me regret this."

[Okor]

The Moors were silent. Carrion birds slept, nestled in the warped and twisted branches of squat trees whose branches stretched to block out the dark grey sky, and the constant drizzle of rain that sustained this swampland. A corpse shambled through the mire, its broken jaw hanging open, festering remnants of brain matter lodged between its teeth as it roamed the fens, searching for its next meal, ravens perched upon its shoulders, prying rotting flesh from their host’s body. It was some kind of comforting serenity, the cycle of life, death, and undeath a natural feature of this ‘Verse. All was as it should be: The struggles of mankind against the muck, the triumph of humanity over alien masters that sought to drag them down into the cold embrace of the grave, only to rip them away and send them forth to share their gift of eternal existence.

Yes, this was the way the Moors were meant to be. Quiet. Sliding ever-closer to destruction. Hopeless.

Enter the wildcard.

A black blur burst from the gate, the shining sheet of Omnillium parting as the Deliverator’s Carriage arrived, its grille set aflame with an illusionary inferno. Said grille impacted with the wandering corpse’s head as it flew over the pathway below, its wheels spinning in the air as the screaming skull embedded itself in the digital blaze.

The vehicle impacted with the packed earth, tires hugging the winding path as it took off, ripping the remains of the remnant beneath them into bloody slurry, rotting vital fluids feeding the eternal thirst of the damned ‘verse.

As the sable sliver of steel raced off into the night, Hiro turned to Okor, his Asian-African features illumined by the orange glow of the consoles set into the dashboard, shouting over the sound of the music flooding the cabin. “The hell did we just hit?”

Pestilential pauldrons shrugged in shotgun, a twisted horn scraping the roof of their vehicle. ”A walking corpse, in all… likelihood.”

“In all likelihood?” Hiro’s dreadlocks whipped around his head as he shook his skull. “Man, what if we hit a person?”

”Then we pry out whatever remains from the front of the vehicle when we stop, and.... Remake them.” The ancient warrior chuckled to himself, this moment of revelry interrupted by a hacking cough brought on by the infinite infections lurking within his body. ”There are few laws, and fewer consequences within Omni’s realm. The only justice is that which we create.”

A low whistle escaped the hacker’s mouth as he pondered the possibility of vehicular homicide. “Look Okor, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but… Just how much experience do you have with hordes of undead? You obviously have a lot, but I really gotta ask what side of the walls you were on.”

A gurgling laugh was the first response, mirth forcing its way past the phlegm and rot infesting the plague marine’s throat. ”It does not serve you to hold your tongue, Protagonist. You are here because you are clever and… quick-witted. The Gods granted you these gifts, and it would be a shame to squander them. You asked a question, and it shall be answered.”

“On Barbarus, I marched against the dead, and prosecuted them with blade and flame. After that, my relationship with Undeath became…” The gangrenous giant paused for a moment, the maggots within him writhing, swarming through his body as a macabre parody of bodily functions. ”Complicated. I have seen the Plague of Unbelief propagated throughout worlds, and through this benediction, I have gleaned an understanding.” Thin wisps of smoke rose on the horizon, the telltale sign of tamed flame. Their previously human ornament groaned as they made another sharp turn, dodging around a sunken stump, churning the mud beneath them as they continued their journey, nearing their final destination.

“Well then Okor, in all of your years of heading a zombie Horde, why don’t you share your insight on this situation?”

”Of course. But first, a question, of a… Rhetorical nature: What is the most dangerous weapon in the dead’s arsenal?”

The hacker paused for a moment, cruising beneath a twisted pair of trees, their blackened branches stretching after the streak as it moved past, eager to adds its inhabitants to the bones clustered around their trunks.

“The human mind. Walking corpses aren’t that scary, but we make them terrifying, ‘cause we still think of them like a person.”

Ebon fangs bared themselves in a grin. ”Precisely. Fear and Despair will kill more than any dead man’s hands. To add to the hordes of the walking dead, you must take away their reason to live. Find the… familiar and the loved, and desecrate them. Add their numbers to the horde, and send them against the defenders. Once life has been stripped, the death-dealing begins. Isolate the weakest, and fall upon them with overwhelming force. The horde grows, and they will only fall into ruin.”

“Shit man, that’s a little grim. How do you deal with that? If you’re gonna say ‘Kneel down before them and embrace eternal life’, I’ll have to stop you there.”

The stone walls of Darkshire drew near, their mossy and cracked flanks watched over by soaked men in rusted garb, clutching halberds in shaking hands, the only source of warmth on this damp night being the pipes held between chattering teeth and the cast-iron braziers dotting the bulwarks.

”Ha. Ha. Ha,” laughed the Heretic of Horus, each syllable too mechanical, too measured to be real, a mere attempt at humanity rather than a true show of emotion. ”No. The key is to deny them. The only resource they crave is flesh, and flesh is erased by flame. If you take up a… defensible position and sequester the civilians inside, then it takes but a single dead one to crawl in through a sewer to rot the fortification from within. No more than eighty percent of the defenders should man the walls, lest internal strife fell them.” He ran a hand over his helmet, cursing his lack of loquaciousness. ”It is a… Complicated science. Siegecraft is not my specialization.”

“Don’t sweat it, man. If I wanted somebody to sit in a trench for 5 months while we tried to wait these dead bastards out, I would have Omni’d up a robot. The Gods granted you the gift of kicking ass, and it would be a shame to squander it.” Hiro spoke, his voice adopting the seismic slowness of Okor’s tone. Their vehicle turned, drifting towards the oaken gate, ripping furrows into the mud as it skidded to a halt. “Well, let’s go kick some rotting ass.”

The pair opened their doors, the fetid atmosphere permeating their nostrils, the air rank with death and decay. ”Ah, the stench of ho-” any reminisces on Okor’s part was cut short by a cry from the walls.

“THE DEAD RISE!”

This call was answered by the discharge of siege weaponry, a wooden shaft as thick as an arm flying forth from an arrow loop, the ballista bolt punching through the dessicated daemon’s stomach, pinning him to the Deliverator’s chariot, the flame-lit skull embedded in its grille laughing at his misfortune. He looked down, claws grasping at the oversized arrow impaling him, trying to free it from his ever-hungering guts, which even now attempted to pull the organic matter deeper into his unnatural gullet.

He sighed deeply, watchmen approaching him, glaives pointing at his rusted gorget, cautious of the newcomer.

”Unfortunately, this is not the most hostile welcome I’ve received.”

[Hiro Protagonist]

"A Dark Revenant!" One of the guards yelled as Hiro stepped out from the driver's seat, the bruising and damage from his fight with the Sage not doing his appearance any favors. He looked over at Okor, pinned to the car's hood, and immediately did away with any thought of laughing. The marine's stoic and grim expression foretold future consequences, exacted in a precise and carefully measured manner. Sighing as the A Team of the gate guard marched closer, stained and sharp halberds at the ready, the Digital Daimyo drew himself up to his full height, and twitched his head to the side as an errant crossbow bolt thwipped right past his ear.

"Dude. Right to the racism? I will turn this sweet fuckin' car right the hell around and you can deal with Army of Darkness by your own damn selves." The hacker-ronin walked over to Okor and inspected the damage, his back towards the guards. Never show those in authority that they have any power. It arises contempt in the cop heart. A soft, clinking sound broke the gloom as a brave guard decided to apprehend the unholy terrors currently darkening their doorstep, and Hiro drew his brand new pistol one handed and aimed it without looking; the dark, menacing angles of the firearm dousing any flared courage. "Would you give me a goddamn second? You already pinned my co-pilot to my car. He's not a bad guy, really. Underneath all those weapons and spikes and infectious fluids, he's got a heart of gooo.....bronnn...something that doesn't tarnish."

The five guards cleared their throats awkwardly as they backed off a step and formed a defensive stance, keeping an eye on the treeline in case the appearance of the two Primes was merely a distraction. "One moment, Hiro...I will free myself." Okor sounded almost bored, and soon enough there was a sharp snapping sound, Hiro staring in fascinated revulsion as the marine's innards formed a mouth of bone and acid, chewing their master free. A hulking step forward, and the only indication of damage was a vague, Okor-shaped outline of rust and a fist sized hole in the grill.

Wordlessly, Hiro brought the pistol around and shot the still moving zombie head adorning the grill, pulping the undead flesh with a high pitched whine and a soft thwipping noise as the monomolecular projectiles made mincemeat of the rotten skull and bone. A look of glee crossed his features, before he adjusted his goggles and adopted the cool, collected hacker persona. "So, yo. I'm Hiro Protagonist, Agent of the Empire. He's Okor Paleblood, Well-Known Ass Kicker. We're here to help defend your town from the incoming hordes of generally unfriendly ghosts and goblins. Dig?"

The guards shuffled amongst themselves and gave the two of the newcomers rather unfriendly looks. Finally, what seemed to be the leader of this little welcoming committee  (judging from the astounding handlebar moustache jutting from his helmet)  stepped forward and announced in a clear voice, "You will be escorted inside the city gates, under full guard. Your conveyance will be towed inside and stowed in the militia yard until such time as you are deemed to be telling the truth. The Captain of the Defenders will be the judge of that."

The soldiers fanned out and surrounded the two Primes, marching them inside the gates. Leaning over to Okor as an aside, Hiro muttered. "Pretty sure if we had ill intent they'd already be on the ground and we'd be carving a swath through their town."

Okor pointed upwards at the rows upon rows of arrow slits, each one backed 3 with a shining bolthead and a grim face behind it. "I would. You would not be. Unless you can dodge 60 projectiles at once."

[Kelly MacAryn]

The ground-floor of the gate-house was a simple, torch-lit room, with arrow-slits in one wall, and a single wooden door leading to the street. It had walls and floors of bare gray stone, and a set of four metal ringlets bolted to the flagstones at each corner of the trap-door that led to the cellar: the anchor-points for the chains that had secured the grating. There was a desk in one corner of the room, covered in papers, with a duty roster posted on the wall beside it, and a plain wooden staircase leading to the next floor of the tower. A large stack of barrels and crates was tucked underneath the steps. 

Kelly took all this in with passing interest, noting that the desk was heavy enough to serve as decent cover. He'd been suffering from exhaustion-induced tunnel-vision when he arrived, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. Now that the traveler was rested and released, he was appreciating the return of his mental acuity.  

Of course, even though he was no longer technically imprisoned, Kelly still wasn't quite free to go. 

"Reggie here will take you to see Commander Atelos," the sargeant said, indicating a blond, baby-faced, lanky young man holding a crossbow. The boy was wearing chainmail that was slightly too large. "The commander's in charge of defense-planning, so he gets to decide where to put you. And if anything should happen to Reggie on the way... well, you seem bright enough. I'm sure you understand how this works."

The traveler said that he did, and the tired sargeant left, pausing briefly on the stairs to shoot him a final, cautionary glare. 

Kelly waved, suppressing a vindictive impulse to counter the glare with a grin, and turned his attention to Reggie. The young guard was staring up at his much taller, broader charge as though the Prime were an unexploded bomb. 

"It looks like this is your show now," Kelly said, shouldering his staff. "Lead the way."

They didn't end up making it very far. 

No sooner had the door of the gatehouse creaked shut behind them than a muffled mechanical roar split the stillness of the new-fallen night. It started low and distant as little more than a growl, but quickly rose to a pulsing crescendo that reverberated over the top of the wall and echoed off the city streets.

Kelly stopped to listen, his thick brows hunkering low over sunken sapphire eyes that gleamed with interest.

A car?  Here?

As the sound of the engine grew closer, it brought other noises with it - the grinding whine of high-traction tires tearing the hell out of a dirt road as they took muddy corners at inadvisable speed. The hissing spray of soil and gravel being thrown into the air like the wake behind a speedboat.  

And, of course, the thumping back-beat of a damn-near thermonuclear stereo-system. 

Someone likes Indie-Punk... 

Reggie looked at Kelly then back at the gatehouse, clearly nervous, and torn by indecision. 

"Calm down," said the traveler, listening as the mysterious vehicle skidded to a halt. The engine and the music both cut out, and two doors slammed. "I think it's -"

"THE DEAD RISE!"

The call came from the walls, cutting off Kelly's attempt to reassure his nervous escort. Reggie made his decision, yanking open the door and charging back into the gate-house. The guard hefted his crossbow and took up a position at one of the arrow-slits. From somewhere further along the wall, the unmistakable THWAK of a light siege weapon going off was followed swiftly by the shrieking crunch of tearing metal and the hiss of a lethally offended radiator. 

Kelly stayed where he was. He was fairly certain that, even in the Omniverse, armies of the damned didn't sound like a back-country street-race. 

Five guards, led by a man with a mustache of legendary stature, thundered down the gatehouse stairs as the gates swung open, and rushed out to greet the new arrivals, halberds held high. 

The traveler hung back and observed, lurking in the shadows of the gate.

The car was impressive, low, dangerous and dark, with bright red digital flames flickering on the hood, but the passengers were even more-so: The dark-complected man with the sword at his hip moved with a natural grace and confidence that spoke of considerable physical skill. Kelly smiled as the man chastised the guards, admiring his boldness, and took note of the swordsman's moment of joy as he blew apart the zombified hood-ornament. 

The hulking mass of corroded armor and putrefying meat, on the other hand, seemed to promise nothing but brutal uncompromising violence at first glance. His body-language though, such as it was, was far more restrained than his cyberpunk companion. He could evidently afford to be - judging by the ballista shot he had just ignored, the armored figure's powers of survival were apparently far more advanced than even Kelly's own. 

Kelly listened to the introductions with interest.

Hiro Protagonist? That has to be an alias...And he's an agent of the Empire. Assuming he's telling the truth about that, maybe I should have come as Alan Mayhew after all. I'll just have to work around that as best I can.

He had no idea what to think about Okor. The squelching pile of chitin-encrusted plating and shambling rot looked like a monster, but there was clearly more going on than that.  Kelly simply didn't have enough data to form a clear picture. 

As the group of guards surrounded the newcomers, beginning to lead them into the city, Kelly became aware of a presence at his shoulder. It was Reggie, his empty crossbow dangling from his belt. The boy was clearly trying very hard to look like a professional guard, in charge of a suspicious Prime, and not the only person how had fired without receiving an order. 

When the procession passed through the gates, the young guard approached its mustachioed leader, exchanging hushed words. The older man didn't look terribly happy, his mouth forming a thin line, but finally he nodded, saying aloud, "Very well, private. But you are coming with us."

Reggie rushed back towards Kelly, opening his mouth to explain, but the situation wasn't hard to read. The traveler was already heading towards the group, casually positioning himself in the center with the other two suspicious Primes.

[Okor]

A steady stream of rain fell from the forsaken heavens, the constant impact of water droplets against the chosen’s carapace serving as an ersatz heartbeat. A veritable cloak of airborne contagions and scavenging vermin coalesced around him, shifting as he turned to face the oncoming individual, the stench of Omnillium cutting through the miasma surrounding him, the all-too familiar reek of Omni’s energies. Prime.

Syphilitic saliva flowed between his fangs, a pavlovian response to the proximity of pure power, the innate desire to tear the raw energy from the new arrival’s flesh suppressed by what little humanity remained within the rotting hulk. Hiro’s eyebrows rose in a questioning manner, the swordsmaster noting the lack of blades upon the modern mage’s person.

They extended a hand, the slight figure clad in denim and cotton a stark contrast to Hiro’s leather jacket and Okor’s ancient armour. “Kelly MacAryn. A pleasure to meet you both.” They spoke in a carefully measured tone, each syllable deliberately enunciated, giving the impression that they were choosing their words from a vast library of responses, rather than actually talking to their equals. A calloused and scarred hand gripped Hiro’s glove, a lazy pulse of luminescence flowing across the circuitry embedded within its make. “Dimensional traveller, psion, part-time monster hunter, and full time... Problem Solver.”

The Samurai of Semur responded in kind, his dark eyes still bloodshot from the pleasant night of self-pitying debauchery they had been torn from. “Hiro Protagonist. The greatest swordsman in the Omniverse, Hacker, and agent of the Empire. The Big Guy’s Okor. He comes from some dark future or other where they trade hygiene and air fresheners for badassery. S’quite tragic. Don't fuck with him because he can get his head cut off and completely regenerate. Also, he does this freaky thing with his rib cage, it's like watching a car accident, you can't look away.” Hiro shuddered, the memory of Okor’s savagery unleashed upon Dante’s abyss scarred into his mind.

Hiro yawned and stretched, the blades upon his back rattling as he took in his surroundings, his relaxed demeanour a stark contrast to the fear and worry permeating the atmosphere of the walled city. “So, what brings you to this beautiful little slice of the Omniverse?” Kelly laughed at this question, his mirth a mirror of Okor’s earlier attempt at humanity. “I was contacted in Coruscant. Apparently they’re going that far abroad for allies. I’d imagine it’s looking rather grim. What about yourselves?”

Hiro sighed as he pulled a flask from his jacket, draining it in a brief instant before throwing it into the rain-glutted gutter. “Y’see, I had just finished brawling with a little lightning rat that came up to my damn knees. I was all set to continue a night of drinking, trying to forget what it’s like to have a chubby yellow hamster coming at me, when this damn heap of shit comes out of the sewer, talks me into coming with him on this damn fool’s errand, and now I’m here in this damn swamp, about to relive Dante’s fucking Abyss all over again.” He turned and spat, a phantom pain revisiting his groin, the steel girding his loins a result of a hard lesson within the undead-infested island.
”The Abyss was not that terrible,” spoke the rotting raider, redundant lungs forcing out a deep, rasping voice, the infectious tones bouncing off of the cobbled stone walls as they continued their journey through Darkshire. ”There were a few unfortunate deaths, but in all, it was an… interesting experience. Our time there hardly left us unprepared for this.” He ended his sentence with a hacking cough, the corruption within him consuming him at a pace matched only by his regenerative abilities.

Hiro shook his head, dreadlocks gently shifting. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to put ‘Experienced Zombie Slayer’ on my resume.” He sighed, kicking a discarded, rusted helm to the side of the worn dirt street. “You know, I thought of something. We’ve got a wizard, a warrior, and a rogue. Add in a cleric, and we’ve got ourselves a half-decent adventuring party.”

Okor coughed in a polite fashion, the runes carved deep into flesh and ferrous armour alike burning a sickly green. Hiro scoffed, slapping Okor’s back before what little sobriety remained could scream in terror at the thought of touching the gangrenous giant. “Well, I suppose you reek enough for two unwashed vagabonds. Look, Okor, we’re gonna go get in contact with the local authorities. Are you gonna come with us, or are you going to head off and do something vague and sinister?”

”The latter. I must find my… flock.”

“Well, that’s about par for the course. I’m sure you’ll show up once there’s blood in the water.”

Okor turned, departing the Psion and Protagonist, footsteps echoing down the graffiti-ridden walls as he stalked down into the slums of Darkshire. Fear, despair, and disease all combined, a beautiful bouquet to his warped senses. The lost and the damned, calling out for salvation.

And what kind of a hero would he be if he denied them?

[Kelly MacAryn]

Kelly flexed his fingers, adjusting his grip on his staff, and watched Okor go. When he was certain the armored titan was out of earshot, the psychic turned casually to Hiro and asked, "How concerned should I be about the way his stench makes the inside of my chest itch?"

The self-proclaimed Greatest Hacker in the Omniverse shrugged. "As far as I know it doesn't actually do anything besides smell balls-nasty.  You get used to it."  He paused, frowning and reached for a flask he no longer had. After fumbling in his jacket for a moment, he continued: "Well, actually, you don't. Okor's some kind of stink-genius. His smells have smells. But I think the important thing for us is that he commits violence in the same way he commits odors - and honestly? After this shit goes down I'd bet you Kong-bucks to dollars that its the violence you'll remember when you think of him."  

The traveler nodded, reassured. He panned his gaze across buildings and alleys as they continued their trip through the rain-slick streets of the post-twilight town, past shuttered storefronts in sturdy brick walls and wooden homes with the lights on, windows barred, and doors shut tight against the dark. As near as he could tell, they were the only ones on the street besides the occasional group of soldiers. The militiamen went about the tasks of preparing to defend their town by the soft orange glow of lantern-light, moving in twos and threes.

Kelly was tempted to ask about Okor's lack of interest in coordinating with the locals, but provided he'd read the rotting warrior correctly, the psychic suspected he knew the answer. The way the man - if he was a man - had been introduced, his reaction to Hiro's crack about adventuring parties,  the glowing runes and stoic demeanor, all combined with his parting words, seemed to indicate that Okor was some kind of votive warrior, though for who or what Kelly had no idea. The decayed fighter likely had his own rules and codes to follow, and would do his job as he saw it regardless of what the leaders of Darkshire thought. 

Hiro's confidence that the putrid paladin would arrive when he was needed, evidently based on previous experience, lent strength to Kelly's hypothesis, making him more comfortable with letting the topic lie - and besides, Okor was hardly the most urgent topic at hand. Kelly brushed a stray, damp strand of hair out of his face and said, "Good to know. I'm sure it will be quite the spectacle, but I think I'll be too distracted to fully appreciate it. Speaking of which, seeing as how we're going to be heading into battle together, we should probably talk tactics."  

Kelly turned right at a shuttered market square, rain-drops pattering on sack-cloth awnings and pooling between cobblestones. Somewhere, a wooden stall rattled. He stopped when Hiro didn't follow him, and looked questioningly back over his shoulder. 

"Where are you going?" asked the swordsman.

"The town hall is this way," explained the psychic. "It's one of the two places that the garrison commander is most likely to be, and it will be faster to stop off on the way to the main garrison than to circle back after walking across town. I thought I'd potentially save us some time by optimizing our route."  

Hiro hurried over. "Wait a sec.  Have you been here before?" 

Kelly shook his head. "This is my first time. I memorized a map of Darkshire before I came. It seemed like the thing to do." 

The traveler neglected to mention that he'd seen the map weeks ago, in the Frozen Fields, and that he hadn't been planning on coming here at the time. 

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I'm a psychic. I have a powerful brain. Surely its not that surprising." 

The no-longer-quite-so-freelance hacker scoffed, and stuck his gloved hands in his jacket pockets. "Well shit, I'm impressed. I mean, you could just check the dataverse and save the head-space, but your way works too."

"Yes it does," said Kelly, smiling shrewdly as they resumed their hike. The ringing of his iron-shod staff against the wet cobbles echoed off bricks and stonework, sounding hollow in the dark. "And it saves time in an emergency. I like to be prepared. Speaking of which..." 

"Right. Tactics. Isn't that a conversation we're supposed to have after we link up with the locals?"

The traveler's eyes seemed to sharpen in their sunken caves, sparking blue against the dull lamp-light of the Darkshire night. "Of course. It's just it occurred to me that as both Primes and outsiders we're probably going to be asked to do a lot of the heavy lifting, so we might want to kick some ideas around."

Hiro took a hand out of his pocket and rubbed his bleary face. "Man, you may not have noticed, but I am not in an ideas kinda mood right now," the digital duelist said. He returned his hand to its leathery lair and sighed. "But if you've got any thoughts on how to make what we're walking into suck less, I'm all ears."  


Kelly answered the jibe with a good-natured chuckle. "I'm afraid not. I was thinking more along the lines of 'try and keep track of each other', 'provide each-other fire-support when feasible', that sort of thing. Ways in which we could back each other up." 

Hiro nodded tentatively. "Yeah, well. I'll see what I can do. No promises though - with how my luck's been going lately, this is gonna be chaos." 

"It's a battle," the psychic said, grim amusement flickering across his face. "No matter what we do it's going to be chaos. The only question is whether it devours us, or our enemies. In my experience, planning and preparation go a long way towards making the difference." 

The hacker grunted. He was getting a headache. "You're not wrong, man. For both our sake, I hope that keeps working out for you." 

They walked in silence after that. The rain slacked off, but the wind kicked up, tearing at the rooftops of Darkshire and howling in the eaves. As the two men walked, Kelly wondered about Hiro, and what exactly his role as an 'agent' of the Empire entailed. Was he a spy? A mercenary? Some kind of heavily-armed diplomat?

If he's law enforcement, there's an excellent chance we're going to end up on opposite sides of a conflict at some point. Should I ask? He's clearly not in the best psychological shape at the moment...

Leave it alone. Prying might make him start thinking about where I'm from, and the last thing I want is an Imperial officer trying to look Kelly MacAryn up back in Coruscant and finding Alan Mayhew. Of course, I could claim the reverse of the actual situation, that I'm the alias, but I'd prefer there be as little connection as possible. 

They wound through the wet, dirty streets until the buildings around them grew tall and sturdy. This was the richer part of town, such as it was, the administrative and financial center of the city, though several of the more elaborate residences had their lights out, and chains on the front gates. Kelly pointed with his staff, indicating a well-lit pile of hewn and sculpted stones which seemed to squat among the surrounding architecture. It was doubtless a proud building during the day, but looked in the dark as though it were trying, poorly, to hide. 

"That should be it," he said. "Darkshire City Hall."

"Awesome," responded Hiro. "Let's go inside where it's not so goddamn cold."

[Ash Williams]

The evil dead slayer grabs his boomstick along with his holster from the guest room and made his way through the ground floor of the tavern he spent the night in but somebody put him in one of the vacant guest rooms. Still, the staff was active at this time of the day but it was after noon in the Pale Moors. From all the alcohol that Ash consumed, he sure had a long time of rest from all the action that went on. He still does remember encountering new faces from the battle that he might see more while helping Darkshire out. The waiters and waitresses in the tavern were at least trying to be busy by doing a little dusting or cleaning in parts of the bar area. No one was not at the tavern now due to the time and possibly what day it is. Ash made his way through the dead bar towards the front door. His movement was now catching back up to normal speed after the bad hangover he had earlier.

The door opens by Ash seeing the streets in this part of Darkshire wasn't too crowded and busy but residents were going on with their normal business. Guards even made their daily patrols through this district for everyone's safety.  Daylight was still normal and cloudy almost just like yesterday when he arrived. For himself, stretching happened with his arms raised high behind himself and hands clasped together but his real left knuckles only popped while his metal hand did make some metallic noises. After stretching a bit, Ash embarks on the streets to at least get to know more about this town since he's most likely going to have to live in it for a while. Some guards he came across realized that was the prime that helped them defend the west gate. Honor and Thankfulness were given to him from the service he offered which Ash was humble to their response. All though Ash wasn't popular yet with the whole militia of Darkshire as some guards haven't heard word of him.

It was now in the Afternoon time while Ash was strolling through some of the streets he hasn't set foot yet in the town. Some were pretty active such as marketplaces but others were normal such as filled with homes on each side of the street with their chimneys puffing out smoke coming from their fireplaces. As Ash was minding his own business, a group of militiamen comes across him were talking about some of the new primes that just came in. Ash couldn't help it and turn around towards the passing batch of soldiers.

"Did you guys said we got new primes?" responded Ash making the men stop and face Ash recognizing him with his prime appearance.

"Apparently so, just so this is between of us and we don't want to get the town into a big scare but..." said one of the soldiers in the group looking back and forth to see if their were any townspeople in presence.

"There is some kind of new threat being built upon this town." continued the stranger.

"Oh come on, don't we got enough to worry about already such as Dracula and his goons?" said Ash concerned with his arms crossed.

"I feel like we get more enemies everyday with in this dreadful city." mutter one of the militiamen from the group

"This time it sounds like it's coming from an organized group of primes that want to cause terror and they don't sound like they are associated with Dracula though." said the soldier that was the first one to speak to Ash earlier.

"As I thought I could've maybe got a break today, count me in then." answered Ash at the group.

"If you wanna help, I suggest you head for the city hall." said the soldier with information

"That's like near the garrison, right?" questioned Ash which he has never been to the town hall yet.

"Yeah, it's not that far. Somewhere around there" confirmed the soldier.

"I'll be on my way then." finished Ash with the patrol group and heads his way towards where the garrison is at.

At least this town had some street signs pointing in the right direction since he has been visiting places he is not familiar with. It took him at least half an hour to get to where the garrison was at that he visited it before. The time now was at least had to be in the late afternoon which some rain did start pouring upon the city. Wetness surrounded the streets and buildings with some residence hurrying for shelter so they won't catch any awful sickness from the weather. For the rain, it was steady and not too hard to be completely soaked in about a minute. Coldness even begin to fill the air which made Ash want to found this town hall quickly.

He wonders around a bit in the square trying to find the city hall. Ash even asked a couple locals in the area which helped him point in the right direction. After six minutes of still walking around to find this building, the evil dead slayer comes across it with the architecture looking more national then the others in this district. Ash starts making his way towards the entrance of the city hall while being a bit damp and cold.

[Okor]

The slums were sequestered down a sidestreet, rotten planks and worm-eaten canvas serving to protect the scum sheltered within. The omnipresent rain within the Moors poured down, rivulets running into the gutter, their path obstructed by the itinerants attempting to eke out an existence by sifting through the flowing sewage. Jewelry, coins, and other trinkets joined the waste matter, waiting to be freed from the stinking slag by one desperate enough to pry a diamond from the reeking rough.

It was for that purpose that Okor found himself drawn to this purgatory, this half-life where men neither lived as men, or found peace in death. Nurgle’s influence waxed strong here, the Plaguefather’s willevident in every sore, wasted limb, and bloody cough. Each soft plea for respite was the meat and drink of Nurgle, silent prayers for succor sustaining the Gangrenous God.

A peal of thunder accompanied the lightning strike that silhouetted him against the stone of the alleyway, his hulking mass clad in darkness as a blazing eye glared at the destitute dredgers, swaddled in filth and rags, eyes too fixed on the cobblestones to notice the Champion.

This blissful ignorance lasted until the next thunder crack. A bedraggled woman glimpsed her visage through the eye left uncovered by a dirt stained rag, her limbs twitching, aching for the stimms that had come so easily to her back before she made her admiration for Darkshire known on the upper tiers. She screamed, her voice still hoarse from her prior evening of begging, yet still enough to rouse the runaways and vagabonds lurking within the shanty.

A man, arms thick with corded muscle and coated in scars, emerged from a shack forged from shattered shields, the hook replacing his right hand and the fury burning in his eyes having driven him from the guard long ago. Another joined him, unfurling from a roughspun hammock strung between a pair of rainspouts. The madness emanating from his grinning mug was palpable, a mind broken by years of constant warfare reforged into a barely passable human being, etiolated flesh evidence of a life spent shrouded in shadows.

More cowered in the darkness, their humanity hidden beneath shitstained rags. The muscled miscreant approached, roaring as they drove their hook downwards, angling it towards the corroded gorget of Okor’s armour. The secondary struck true, their pointed prosthesis burying itself into mummified flesh, a wild whoop escaping their bloodied and cracked lips, only to be silenced as a rusted gauntlet impacted with their already battered face, sending them and their teeth flying in opposite directions.

A gurgling laugh escaped Okor’s throat, looking upon the two yet standing, scavenged shivs clutched in a hand far too steady, and a hand that never stopped shaking. ”At… Ease. Had I wished to end your lives, I would have done so.” The survivors shifted, their hardened eyes unwavering, blades clutched tight as they guarded the huddled masses from the wasted warrior. “Then why have you come, to this damned slum?” Spake the maddened one, his song-like speech simply another chain wrapped around the shattered remains of his mind, one more method to keep him from gnawing off his own fingers.

”I have come for you. The dead march upon the walls of this city. They feel no pain, know no fear, and have no desire but to feast upon your flesh.

I’m here to even the odds.”

“What does that entail?” Questioned the addict, her broken pride and dependency upon Coruscant’s chemical cocktails adding an uncertain quaver to her voice.

”Look at yourselves,” said Okor, spreading his arms wide. ”You have allowed this realm to control you. You have been broken in mind, broken in spirit, and broken in body. Now, dead men who know nothing of your struggle, know nothing of what it’s like to suffer, come to end your lives on a brown note.”

“And how the fuark do ya propose we stop that?” Said the brute, resetting his jaw with his only hand as he began to stand, a pair of broken tusks indicating his parentage.

”What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Throughout everything this ‘verse could throw at you, you survived. You may not have… lived, but you have endured. Tell me, what do you believe your purpose is in this existence?”

“Is it not to enjoy all the pleasures of life, to best forget the strife?”

“Ta hear your name cheered with every raised tankard?”

The woman’s response came later, an upper-class Coruscant education serving her well. “... To exist?”

Leprous laughter greeted her answer. ”Exactly. All that life grants you is a chance. What you do with that chance is in your hands. And for how long have you been told you’ve never had a chance? That you’d never crawl your way out from the gutter, that you’d never be able to be considered worthy again. I’m here to let you reclaim what you have lost, to prove to man and monster alike that you are deserving of respect.”

The hulking half-orc attempted a laugh, stymied by a rasping in his throat. “And what in the nine hells makes you think we can do shit? I’ve got more sores and scars than a bedridden streetwalker, Damien’s nuttier than a fuckin’ pecan pie, and Jess ‘as been looking for a fix for years. The hell makes us so special?”

”Because you are scarred. Because you have been beaten, bent, and never entirely broken. Every wound is an attempt on your life that failed, scar tissue upon your soul that makes you strong. Darkshire needs that strength to survive, it needs… heroes, who will make what sacrifices are necessary to protect it. I can show you how to break the chains of fate, how to spit in the face of fear itself. I can give you the chance to save this land.”

“And will you take it? This is your opportunity, your shot to rise from the mire and muck, and take your rightful place among the lords of Darkshire. What say you?”

The maimed mauler stepped forward, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, gimaching. “Keith, d-” they raised a hand, silencing Jess as she attempted to warn him off. He took a deep breath, looking up at the gangrenous giant. “I’ve been treated like shit my whole life. That sure as hell didn’t get any better when my hand got lopped off. Now, we’ve got the largest horde approaching, and some rotting bastard’s here promising me a chance to do something with my shitty life. And you know what?

It really couldn’t get worse. So fuck it all, I’ll drink your damn kool-aid, if only so I don’t have to get fucking eaten alive by the dead.”

A gingivitis-ridden grin spread beneath the rusted helm as Okor proffered a bare wrist, veins filled with toxic corruption.

A twisted hook pierced the skin, setting free the sanguine sacrament.

Diseased blood dripped from the wound, an erratic rhythm of stops and starts, the binary nature of Asherah apparent.

Cracked, parched lips supped at the syphilitic solution, a hefty host shuddering as his heart stopped, and his eyes closed, a hook reflexively driving itself towards his chest as they panicked.

His eyes opened, seeing the rot and pain that infested the world, the festering wounds upon reality. He saw the cruelty inherent in nature, the inevitability of the end. He saw that it wouldn’t be today. It would never come today, but tomorrow. You made whatever sacrifice it took to survive the day, and fought like mad for the chance to see tomorrow, knowing full well that you merely delayed death. But what choice did he have? To die?

Life was a drug. Every breath you took addicted you, and it was a habit that was notoriously hard to break.

His eyes opened, seeing the rot and pain that infested the alleyway. His skin crawled, shifting as his newly acquired infections ran rampant, killing nerves and quieting the agony that had plagued his existence.

”Nurgle…” He whispered, coughing as a smile spread across his fanged face, freed from pain, from fear, from mortality.

Okor raised his hand higher, blood flowing freely from his wound.

”Come forth, and fight for your future. Nurgle asks for nothing more, and demands nothing less.”

[Hiro Protagonist]

Hiro and Kelly entered the old baroque style building, faded oak beams rough with splinter above their heads as they walked inside. It was a scene of...well, not chaos, but definitely a flurry of activity. People were crossing the hallway to and from different offices, stacks of paperwork and crinkled parchment exchanging hands as they navigated around the bureaucrats and garrison commanders until they reached the front desk.

A harried bureaucrat looked up from stacks of books and eyed the approaching Primes, their manner of dress just esoteric enough to mark them as outsiders. Hiro's glowing kimono coat was a bit more flashy than Kelly's more subdued manner of dress, but before the telepath could finish opening his mouth to address the clerk, he was cut off. "You two Primes here to assist with the defense?" The man asked them hurriedly. He waved them around the desk and pointed up a large wooden staircase towards a larger office door, clearly marked "Burgomeister".

Shrugging, the Hacker and the "accountant" ascended the stairs and knocked on the office door. Hiro leaned to Kelly and whispered, perhaps slurring his words just enough. "They seem a bit more panicked than outside...I guess the soldiers are more used to this." Kelly nodded in agreement. "Governmental employees are not typically enthusiastic about conflict on their doorstep. Further away for other means, perhaps, but not when it's about their own survival."

A strong commanding voice came from inside the office that made the two Primes look up sharply although the effect was slightly marred by the addition of a reedier voice about a second later.

"Enter."

The scene inside the office was simple, but grim. They could feel the weight of the coming battle bleeding through the walls. Two men stood around a table, one wringing a Tyrolean hat between his hands as he poured over maps and troop listings on the large circular table. The other was nearly a foot taller than the nervous man, dressed in gleaming bronze shoulderpads and a flowing red cloak. The man wore an intimidating helmet on his head that left most of his face uncovered, and Hiro felt the same feeling he'd experienced the first time he met Okor's gaze. Like he'd been pinned to the wall with the large spear the ancient warrior was carrying.

"You are here to aid in the defense." The Spartan said in an even tone, not a question so much as a statement of fact. Hiro nodded blearily and began his introduction. "Yeah, uh, I'm Hiro Protagonist and this is....uh...Kelly, righ-" He was cut off again by the Spartan, although Hiro didn't mind much. Talking like a drunk surfer would not immure himself to the warrior. 

"I am Commander Atelos, leader of the Garrison. If you are here to help, then know this. The dead march. The city is in peril. I hope you come in good faith and with brave souls. If you break and flee in cowardice, your names will be remembered here, for all the wrong reasons. But if you stand tall and succeed, or die standing on the line, you will also be remembered."

Hiro blinked blearily behind his goggles, secretly thankful the mirrored lenses hid his bloodshot and tired eyes. He just nodded in agreement to Atelos' speech, while Kelly looked at the table and memorized the troop listings and topographical maps. Atelos turned back to the other man and pointed at the map. "Dracula's forces approach rimward, opposite the direction of the Nexus gate. The bulk of the militia is being stationed at intervals between the city walls and the outlying barricades, 100 yards out. Archers will be stationed on the battlements, reinforced with the battlemage unit."

He turned to Hiro and Kelly once more. "What are your capabilities? I would expect you to focus on other Primes when they appear, but when you are not actively countering enemy Primes, you will be stationed in the midst of an infantry unit"

Hiro gestured to his blades. "I can do that." Kelly nodded in agreement. "As can I." The Spartan nodded in acknowledgement, and pointed out the door. "Meet with the sergeant outside the gates. He will assign you to your outer defensive units." The garrison commander gave them both a steely look that made the straighten their spines and filled them with the urge to salute. "For Darskhire."

[Revan Noctis]

<From First venture in a new land>

Revan had made it through the gate as easily as the others however he noticed this one was extremely different from the others he had been to.
He had been to the Frozen Fields but this place had a chilling effect that was worse like it had all the heat sucked out of it.

The plant life here seemed half dead in some places as if life was quite literally being drained away by the land beneath it barely keeping itself alive.
Looking up at the large moon hovering over head he knew that this place was probably one of if not the most dangerous verse he had found so far and he had walked willingly into it.

He appeared to be in a city that certainly appeared to have had better days as many windows were covered by large planks of wood nailed down.
Revan realized immediately how wrong this verse felt in every fiber of his soul but he had come here to offer his sword in defence of this place and its people as it was the right thing to do after all.

He began to wander the stone road and he looked at the people that surrounded him mostly soldiers it seemed very few civilians were out and about probably good considering the coming danger that had been reported.
He quickly came across a busy building that took his interest surrounded by guards the building seemed somewhat beautiful in design showing that at some point this city had obviously thrived.


Once inside Revan found the inside far newer then the outside had been and everybody seemed quite busy with paperwork and other such things though everything seemed much more advanced still then his own world.
He immediately caught the sight of two other people in the office that were very obviously out of place here he did not want to presume but it was entirely possible they were other primes that had found their way here.

It seemed they were discussing battle plans with whoever was in charge here and Revan felt the need to listen in the more information he got the better his chances of not only winning but surviving too which may end up being more of an issue then he first thought.
Commander Atelos certainly appeared to have things sorted out and luckily the city appeared to have been prepared for war as the existence of such walls would have suggested.

The term battlemage certainly caught his attention he had not been expecting magic to be used so widely enough for such a thing but it made sense in a way with even he himself having unlocked some level of magical potential.
It seemed other primes on the other side were expected this caught Revan by surprise a bit the shock that Omni had brought evil primes to this world as well was a thought that disgusted him though he appreciated being warned of such things by the commander.

If he was expected to fight other primes when they came he was worried for they would probably be far more powerful then he was being so new to this world though it was perhaps time he stepped up so to speak.
The others were asked to meet with the sergeant outside the city gates to be connected to an infantry unit not a bad move the man that appeared as a prime seemed to have a sword suitable for such a task.


After thinking it over for a few moments Revan had decided for himself where he would place himself as much as he would have loved to fight at the very front and perhaps he still would yet he had better plans.
With the archers on the battlements near the gate would be where he would take his stand there he would be in a position he was happy with to defend against the hordes of undead that would come.

He wished he knew more about what undead they were facing and how they would be attempting to enter the city whether they had magical ways of getting in or if they would obey the laws of war that he had learned all his life.
He knew he had to be ready for anything and ready to be tested and he was happy to have the opportunity he just wished so much innocent life was not on the line as it were.

The two primes seemed to salute ending the conversation with the Commander and once he thought it was acceptable he stepped forward moving toward the maps checking to see if they held any useful information.
The city seemed rather simple at least compared to the endless Frozen Fields or ocean of the Vasty Deep neither of those had any real direction to them and now he was able to see maps of troop placements and terrain all most useful to him.

He hoped the defenders had chosen the best locations he certainly knew that this would be all or nothing and if they failed nothing would certainly be the end result once this city was burned or worse corrupted into some undead bastion.
He noticed with the two gates located in the city it was possible for not only the people of the city to flee but also would give whatever forces of evil were at work here the ability to escape the Pale Moors and threaten other verses such a thing could not be allowed.


Exiting the office building he followed the others toward the main gate which was easily enough to find once you took into account of where the streets and buildings were placed and how the wall was designed.
Wide open people were moving in and out of it mostly civilians in and soldiers out he however had to split off moving toward an opening in the wall that no doubt hid the staircase up to the wall and though it was possible he might have been early he needed to check to make sure he picked the right spot.

He stepped up the stone staircase quickly passing only one soldier traveling down before he was on the top of the wall overlooking both the city and the dark drained landscape on either side.
Walking along the wall admittedly he was enjoying the view and the walls did somewhat remind him of his home world which made it hurt even more knowing an attack of such monstrosity would soon be arriving.

Finally very close to the gate he began looking for somewhere he felt comfortable shooting from taking his place between two other archers both seemed as young as he was if not more so.
Moving up it seemed they were extremely surprised that a Prime had decided to join them as Revan understood by now the effect his existence had on people in the omniverse though he had no interest in abusing such an honour if it could be called that.

For now the two archers said nothing to him though they did share looks of confusion with each other after looking him over Revan hoped they were ready for the fight ahead as he could tell it would require all their concentration to win.
Pulling out his bow he aimed it out testing to make sure it was ready for battle as much as he was and then he lowered it looking out he knew horrors were coming the question was only when they would arrive.

[Kelly MacAryn]

Kelly was quiet as he accompanied Hiro down the front steps of Darkshire's town hall. For all that the meeting with the town's military commander had been brief, it had given him a lot to think about.

He and the hacker were going to be used as elite infantry, and to counter enemy primes. That much was in line with what Kelly had expected, and didn't merit much further thought. Atelos himself had been interesting - he came down a bit heavy on the stoic commander persona, but it was a useful enough affectation, and he seemed competent. No, what had the psychic distracted were the charts and maps that had been strewn across the table in the war-room, every detail of which were now preserved in his remarkable memory. With concentration, he could see them as clearly in his mind's eye as if the table were still in front of him.

The strategic situation isn't awful. We have fortifications, and the field has been prepared. There are archers on the walls, and magical support. Our infantry is stretched a little bit thinner than I'd like, but the formations are mobile enough to compensate... hm. With the resources at hand, I don't think I could have done much better. Atelos knows how to defend a city. 

Stepping down onto the rain-slick cobbles, Kelly grimaced. 

The issue is the interior. On the off-chance the enemy commander is extremely clever, and has spent a few months preparing this, the approaching army could be a feint for an infiltration - a distraction that can't be ignored. If that's the case, they' ll have succeeded in luring the bulk of the city's forces outside of the walls. 

Unfortunately, that remote strategic possibility isn't something I'm in a position to address right now . Even if I was sure Atelos, or Skendor, if I could find him, would listen me, Darkshire has barely one-thousand infantry. That's too few to be able to divert any forces from the primary defensive lines without creating an opening. I'll have to be satisfied that if our enemies are being unexpectedly subtle, they're going to encounter at least one major tactical stumbling block.  

The traveler thought of towering, seemingly indestructible Okor, stalking through Darkshire finding his 'flock', and the grimace turned to a thin smile.

It was beginning to rain again, a light, freezing drizzle. The damp haze caught the hearth-glow from the few windows in the square that remained lit, twinkling in the night as though attempting a sorry substitution for the absent stars.

"What are you smiling about?" slurred Hiro, rubbing his temples. "We just got a 'go die for your country' speech from a roman dude wearing a cape, and you look like you left a whoopie-cushion on his chair. That is deeply unsettling, man."

Kelly clapped the tired swordsman on the kimono-clad shoulder, setting his face in a more amiable grin. "I was just thinking that based on what I saw of the battle-plan they're working up in there, our chances are pretty good. Of course, we're probably going to end up in the vanguard, so 'pretty good' is relative. Still, it's not like neither of us has done this before."

Not that I have a clear recollection of how it went...

Hiro didn't answer. Instead, the Greatest Swordsman in the Omniverse thrust his hands into the pockets of coat, turned his face towards the clouds and gave a loud sigh. His breath sent a billowing cloud of condensation into the air, where it vanished in the rain.

The two Primes wound their way back through the midnight alleys and avenues of Darkshire to the street where they had first met, scant hours before. They walked together, but each man was alone with his thoughts. When they arrived, the city gates of Darkshire were barred against the night, and men with torches walked the walls. The lights were on in the gatehouse, shining from the arrow-slits in the gray stone tower. 

Kelly pounded on the gatehouse door with his staff, counted to twenty, and then pounded again, calling, "Hello? This is Kelly MacAryn. I was here earlier? The Commander sent me." 

Several seconds later, a panel in the door slid aside. A pair of eyes appeared for a moment, then the panel slid closed again, and the door opened. The torchlight from inside the gaurdhouse painted the Primes in shades of orange, casting their elongated silhouettes onto the cobbles behind them. In front of them was a Darkshire soldier that neither the psychic nor the swordsman recognized. The man looked annoyed. 

"You're the Prime we had in lockup," he said.  

Kelly nodded, blowing a stray strand of wet hair out of his face, and smiled. "Yes. And I do appreciate the loan of the cell. I was in serious need of a place to rest."

Hiro and the guard both stared at him. "They locked you up?" asked the cyber-samurai. The psychic shrugged. "I can't blame them. I'd had a pretty bad night, and I'm sure I looked like a remarkably suspicious character." Hiro gave him a very blank look."No shit. I can't imagine why, mister thanks-his-captors."

"No harm was done," said Kelly, "and it never hurts to be polite. But that's beside the point." He turned his attention back to the guard. "Commander Atelos instructed us to meet with the Sargeant outside the gate for our unit assignments?"

The guard grumbled. "We just sealed these gates," he said. "Just got the camp set up outside the walls. We're not going to open them again without orders - but there's a ladder you can use. Follow me."

The man led the way into the gatehouse, up several flights of stairs, past bunks, a common-room, and a small armory, to the top of the tower, where a rope ladder lay curled against the parapet. Beyond the walls, a hundred campfires shone in the dark, illuminating tents, wooden barricades,  earthworks, and men-at-arms, busy even at this late hour.  

The ladder bounced and shook as it unfurled down the side of Darkshire's walls. The guard said, "The sargeant-at-arms in charge of personnel is in the tent directly in front of the gate. You can't miss it." 

He looked at the two Primes expectantly. 

"Got it," said Hiro without enthusiasm, and began to climb. 

"Thank you," said Kelly, and followed. 


The sargeant they were looking for turned out to be the same slightly-sickly looking man who had offered Kelly the cell in the gatehouse basement. After giving them permission to enter, he frowned as they ducked through the flap of his moth-eaten tent, looking up from a pile of maps and charts which he'd been studying by lantern-light, piled on a crude wooden table.   

"It's about time you showed up," he said. The frown deepened. "Aren't there supposed to be three of you?" 

Kelly shook his head. "Okor is staying in the city for now, I'm afraid."

 The soldier was clearly annoyed, but bit back whatever venom was on his mind, remaining all business despite his obvious fatigue. "Fine," he said, waving them over, and the Primes crowded around the table. 

"You," he said, pointing at Kelly, "are going here." He indicated a unit near the front of the defensive line. "Just behind the vanguard. I've seen you fight, and I know you're smart. Look for the unit in half-plate armor with the green armbands. They're good men." 

The sargeant turned to Hiro. "You I don't know," he said. "But I'm guessing you're a swordsman, and judging by the make of that blade I'm guessing you're fast. How fast, exactly?"

"You're looking at the fastest swordsman in the Omniverse," said the tired technologist, failing to completely stifle a yawn. The soldier's expression didn't change, but it was a very vocal sort of stillness. "I'm putting you here." He pointed to a spot on the far edge of the outer vanguard. "This flank is weaker than I'd like, and they need support. Do what you can." 

Kelly and Hiro looked at each other. The two positions were on very nearly opposite ends of the field. The sargeant studied them for a moment. 

"Is something wrong?" 

The psionic strategist shook his head, tapping his fingers against his staff. The clammy dampness of his sleeveless cotton shirt, a sensation which he thought he'd gotten used to after spending so much time walking through the mists of Darkshire at night, was suddenly bothering him again. "Not really. We'd discussed mutual tactical support earlier, but if these charts are accurate, then I can't argue with your analysis. We'll go where we're needed." 

The sargeant rubbed his face with his hands, and leaned back on his stool. "Good. Then go introduce yourselves -  and get some rest. Gods know we're all going to need it."

 

 







    







 

[Ash Williams]

Ash walks in the city hall of Darkshire which the interior of the place was similar to the garrison he visited earlier but had a formal touch to it then being militaristic. Politicians were present here of Darkshire that help govern the last civilization standing in The Pale Moors. The evil dead slayer was dressed outdated then the secondaries running the town hall. Two primes passed by Ash as he comes in noticing that one of them looked pretty cybernetic and doesn't look like the locals from here as the other one was taller wearing clothes similar to Ash looking casual yet combat ready. Another prime follows behind them not too close, dressed with a robe and hood over his head that Ash couldn't even see his identity.

As Ash was walking up to the political office, he crosses paths with the commander that was in charge of the operation to defend the west wall that Ash helped out with last night.

"There's the prime that help make the operation a complete success! How you been after yesterday?" said the commander satisfied from Ash's assistance.

"Hey commander, well alright after the whole celebration. Man, you people aren't really much a stick in the mud after all." replied Ash back to the commander.

"Yes, we do actually celebrate our victories when it is necessary." stated the commander

"Anyways, I'm guessing the reason why your here is because that you heard the news of the assault that is being planned on this town. It sickens me that these disgusting uncivilized monsters want to annihilate us from this land. I wish that we have the size and number to destroy Dracula's forces. At least we been getting help from primes that are outsiders to this verse. This time it isn't just secondaries that are going to attack but coordinated primes that are commanded by them. I bet that they will likely be in the battlefield also making sure that this assault works out. It was nice to talk to Ash once more but I need to get back with the others to plan more on this assault. Meet up with Atelos in his quarters and he will give you the details about this attack. Good luck on the battlefield, soldier." said the commander pointing where Atelos is located in the city hall then saluting back at Ash which the prime does as well.

Ash walks pass the main desk of the town's hall and comes into a long narrow hallway with offices of politicians on each side. After passing four sets of doors on the right side, he finds the wooden door that has black iron plaque letter pinned spelling "Atelos Office". The prime knocks rhythmic on the door which gets a immediate response with a loud voice from Atelos granting access. They started chatting about the plans of defense of this battle and was notified that other primes he will be working with. After there conversation of the conflict, Ash opens the door of the office and shuts it, leaving the spartan's workplace.

Vacating the premises, the evil dead slayer heads out towards were all the primes were told to meet up at. Nighttime was present outside with street lanterns lit and everyone cozy in their homes away from the darkness. The trip to the designated wall took at least twenty minutes to get to on foot. A guard stands by the gateway doing his duty making sure nothing comes in and out. He notices Ash's appearance and directed him into the gatehouse that had access on top of the wall where the rope latter gives entry to the outside. Ash climbs up the stairs and comes out of the gatehouse on top noticing Revan and the archers with their bows not far where the top of the rope latter was at. The sight of them makes him smirk as he walks over to the latter facing them.

"I prefer close and personal." stated Ash with his charisma then starts climbing down the roped latter which was causing it to shake from his presence. His boomstick was holstered in the back as well on his body.

The prime reaches the ground and hops off the latter landing on the ground. He begins to walk over where the intel tent is set up at. Sergeants were discussing the plans in the tent when Ash arrived. They notice his appearance and discussed the strategic plans about the positions.

"I've gotten word on your fighting skill when you were on the front-line of the west wall. We will be putting you up at the front to help out with the vanguard. Others are nearby resting up and I suggest you introduce yourself and get some shut eye before this chaos unfolds." commanded the sergeant at the prime.

Ash nods in response and walks out of the tent towards where the primes were holding up at. There is a tent not too far from the sergeants which he notices the primes he saw from earlier walk into the sleeping quarters. The evil dead slayer follows in as well to see if he can meet who he was teaming up with this fight.