The Dead Ones
Chapter 1 Yamaha
(Maps exaggerated so it take at least one day to cross one standard map. Fighting is more realistically tuned.)
(Dead ones based on game BOTS)
Yamaha, daughter of Sony the mage and Packard the merchant, greatest archer of the northern fields ventures down the trails of Geffen on her quest for glory above all that had ever come before her. Her dark skin was painted a few streaks of green pain upon her cheeks, Peco-peco feathers in her dark red, cat shaped hair. A crossbow upon her back and bow across her chest, she trekked off to meet her comrades, who were waiting for her in the Ork lands.
No green ork, nor sorry Goblin could withstand her strength or speed. Any monster who saw her would flee from her steps as the past tales, passed from creature to spawn, of arrows in the night woke in them.
Her dark leather skirt sported green apples, her bronze mail gleaming and her embroided leather plate scarred with much weather. She was a well seasoned fighter.
"Hello. Where fare you traveller?" she says, coming across a mage, grey eyed with distant gaze. He does not heed her but makes for a popporing in the shrubs.
She tries again. "Mage! Are you new here?"
The mage strikes the bushes a few times until a plop sounds and some five jellopy pieces scatter.
She tries with a bit more attitude. "Oi! Blinky! Are you deaf or something? Hey!"
But the mage just ignores her with his emotionless, if not soulless face. To her astonishment, as he walks away from the jellopy, the pieces rise up, in one bunch, and follow to him and into his pack as he continues to hunt.
"Neat trick!" she says. "That would save me a lot of hassle bending over a lot for all those perverts. Where did you learn to do that?"
The mage doesn't answer and continues on his way, spying out a Faber crawling seamlessly along.
"I'm just trying to be friendly. What a jerk…" Yamaha grunts, launching an imaginary arrow at his butt. "If I could only just…!" she sighs, heading to the island of Izlude to stock some arrows.
…
"A jug of your best ale man!" says Yamaha, slapping some coins on the table.
"Umm… This is an equipment shop…" says the storekeeper.
"So it is, get me my arrows worth thanks!"
"Right away maam." he says, registering the cash and whistling to the assistant to get some arrows. "Won't be long. Next?"
"Wish to sell… Gain money…" says the spearman behind Yamaha, barging his way through. "Have items… Wish to sell…"
"R… Right away sir!" says the man, seemingly nervous. He busily counts the large amount of loot, primarily jellopy, and starts to deal the cash. Meanwhile, Yamaha gets her arrows and packs them, staring oddly at the stranger.
"Here's the money sir." says the storekeeper, and the spearman snatches it away. "Have a good…" but he is already gone. "Day?"
"Strange folk these are that are in the hood these days." says the assistant, sweeping the floor. "Bad times brewing for sure!"
"Strange if not a little scary…" says Yamaha to herself. She notes the lifeless grey eyes that the man shared with the mage she met earlier, as if all their soul was drained and replaced by a never ceasing jellopy machine. "I hope it's not contagious!"
…
She steps outside to see a brawl, a very one sided brawl. A strange warrior was holding the grey eyed spearman by his collar, hoisting him off the ground. The spearman made no reply but tried walking in mid air, somehow not noticing the attacker.
"Hey! Put him down!" says Yamaha, but the stranger doesn't notice her either. "Some people are just so…"
"Who is your master?" says the stranger, clad in a dark brown cloak and hood. She saw a bow slung across him with a quiver of arrows beside his pack. Strangely he also had a shield, silver and blue with a picture of a crown with a sword. "What are you that lurks in this man?"
The grey eyes stops struggling and looks at the stranger. "Release me… You are in my way…"
"What are you!" he demands again.
"Release me…"
"Is that all you will say?"
"Release me…"
"YOUR NAME!"
"You are in my way…"
"I am Vionaron, servant of the Most High, wielder of the flame of Daleth! Speak and answer me!" and a great majesty and power was revealed about him from his head to his toes. Yamaha stepped back and for a moment as she saw the transformation, the grey eyed one faltered and blinked as if in fear, but only for a moment.
"Release me…" continues the spearman. Vionaron glares.
"Hey!" buts in Yamaha. "He doesn't want to talk! Just put the guy down! Ease up man!"
"You stay out of this!" says Vionaron, giving her an angry look. Yamaha is disliking him more every second. "What are you!" he says, ramming the grey eye to the side of the building.
The spearman grabs Vionaron's arms swiftly and strong like a vice. "We are the dead ones…" he says in a tone raspy and faint. "Release us… or die…" Vionaron's expression just gets more tempered.
"Break it up you two!" says Yamaha. "If you want to fight at least do it somewhere else that's not in public! Go get a room!"
"Die…" repeats the spearman and then Yamaha notices smoke coming from his fists where he was grabbing Vionaron. The spearman suddenly screams a call in agony. Looking around, Yamaha realises six more figures had arrived, two mages, two swords and two merchants all with grey blurred eyes.
Yamaha backs away as the figures move in on Vionaron. "What's going on here…?"
Vionaron releases his grip on the spearman, pulling his fists back he punches into the chest, crushing his opponent in to the horror of Yamaha. The other dead ones charge up at him.
Few could match the skill of Vionaron when it came to the sword. With one in each hand he stops the chanting of the mages, notches the axes of the merchants and breaks the swords of the remainder. The air is filled with a strange mist and the bodies lie lifeless.
Vionaron cleans his swords on his cloak and with some pity and remorse coming over his face, stands still for a moment in prayer. Yamaha holds a taught arrow to his head.
"What have you just done?" she says greatly angered. "Do you have ANY idea of what you just DID? MURDERER! Praying cannot rid you of the blood you shed!"
"They attacked me." replies Vionaron. He doesn't make for his swords and holds his palms up, in a gesture of not wanting to fight. "And they are not what they seem." he tries to walk away but Yamaha moves in front with the arrow pointed between his eyes.
"You're staying here until the citadel guards arrive! I'm sure they'll know what to do with scum like you!"
"I'm sure they do." says Vionaron. "Let me pass archer. My fight is not with thee."
"I am Yamaha, archer of the great forests of the north, Vio. Now back up and keep your hands where I can see them! Now!"
Vio grumbles but complies, raising his hands he backs to the wall. He was as tall as Yamaha, with dark hair with a slight green sheen to it. Two long bits at the front protruded like floppy bunny ears. He wore a short poncho over his chest over a black vest and white shirt. His pants were battle worn but what caught her eye was his gear.
Two swords, a shield and a bow she could see. Assassins used two blades, swordsmen used shields and archers used bows that was certain. Upon his wrists he wore mythril, like his shield, as was his thigh plates and shin high boots. Very richly garbed. She had no doubt the blades were of a similar make.
"We're you looking for a fight Mr. Rich guy?" she says, easing a little.
Vio gets her point. "No… But he is." he says, pointing behind her.
She scoffs at him. "Like I'm going to fall for…"
"D-I-e…" wheezes the spearman, even as he runs up with his javelin, his chest expands like a balloon, healing itself. Vio frowns and closes his eyes as the man prepares to run him through. Yamaha, too shocked to do anything else, shoots the dead one in the head. Apparently he was now a very dead one.
Yamaha trembles as she observes the corpse fall backwards. "By the gods! How did he… What have I…?"
"DOWN!" shouts Vio, and Yamaha ducks hastily to his voice. Three daggers fly from Vio and into the guts of three of the seemingly dead ones who were rising. "RUN!" he commands. Yamaha obeys, deciding to regroup with some other, less hostile adventurers to see what they thought of the whole debacle.
A merchant and the two swordsmen arise next, their sawn limbs healed back on.
Vio grimaces in disgust as a head tilts up back on its socket. He presses a button on his wrist and a grapple iron no less shoots out at the Merchant's face. It is swung around and KO's the swordsmen in a fell sweep and there is quiet again. But even as the mist fades, the spearman stirs.
Soon Vio hears the sound of other slow feet moving his way. It was high time to leave Izlude.
…
"What am I doing?" thinks Yamaha, halting her run across the bridge. The green fields of Prontera were before her, safety in the trees and where other decent folk might help her. She shakes her head. "This is insane! I'm no coward! I'm the greatest archer there is! I shouldn't be running! Why am I even listening to that guy?" and she decides to have a glimpse at what was happening, though none too hasty to see those creepy dead ones again.
Two knights with shaded helmets step on the east exit. Yamaha takes note and strides quicker to the West exit to the town. An assassin with a smiley mask blocks her.
"Hey! Let me pass." she says, hiding her fear with anger. The two knights continue to approach behind.
"You are… in my way…" says the assassin in a toneless drone, much to the agitation of Yamaha. "Die…"
Yamaha falls backwards before two throwing stars can hit her. The knights raise their shields and the stars embed harmlessly. The assassin unsheathes his wrist blades and bears down upon the shocked Yamaha, too confused and bewildered to react. She glimpses back to the knights and thinks she can make out the slight glimpses through the eye slits of shining, pale … grey eyes…
…