Bones & Dust
Jul 22, 2022 18:42:53 GMT
Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 22, 2022 18:42:53 GMT
New rp to get the creative flow going again! Set in slightly futurish times, but not far off of modern.
It was a cool night, the sounds of the forest haunting in its echos. The chill in the air felt ancient, forcing a stillness that was unnatural, unnerving, and would deter most from staying in its space. There was a forlorn bird call ringing through the air, but no response came, no stirring of leaves to suggest it had actually been a bird singing in the night.
The stillness was disrupted by the flickering fire, traditionally surrounded by stones and the makings of a small camp. Only the makings, as one of the pair had been resting by a tree and the other had never quite mastered the complicated and probably unnecessarily large set of poles and tabs that comprised the small, uneven tent that now sat not quite haphazardly between two tree trunks. The circle of mushrooms next to the tent was not within crushing distance should anything happen to the tent, but it was close enough to be a danger to any would-be intruder.
Once the fire was lit, Ryder helped his companion to settle on a log next to it, draping a blanket about his shoulders and putting a water bottle in his hands. Then, seeing no action, guided a drink of water, repeating some of the gestures with friendly encouragement to keep going. When his suggestions went unheeded, he finally gave up and began securing their perimeter. This mostly meant he looked around for the fifth time since finding the spot, making sure there wasn’t some trap door under a shrub or tree branch he had missed before. Their proximity to the fairy ring kept them safe given the risks it posed for any to step within it, but Ryder wasn’t used to having to worry about something attacking or being drawn to the firelight, and his unexpected companion was at risk of almost everything.
Sitting back down by the fire, Ryder tried to relax as he normally would, but found himself more than idly checking around them, certain he heard rustles in the undergrowth whenever he wasn’t looking, which of course was just paranoia. Anything that would attack them here wouldn’t bother sneaking up. He finally stretched to ease his tension, cracking the bones in his neck before slumping again, propping his chin on his hands as he stared over at his odd companion. The listless stare was unsettling to see, so familiar but foreign on a living face. It had barely shifted since they encountered one another a few days prior, with only glimmers of a frightened young man who still had some mind and spirit intact even after everything he had been through.
Ryder sighed heavily, giving in to the urge to check on his self-appointed charge. He made sure he was warm enough but not too close to the fire, steady on the log bench but not stiffening into a husk. Another guided drink, and Ryder sat down beside him, rubbing his face with both hands. “What now, Charlie?” he asked the other, not getting any reaction for the randomly chosen name. Sitting so much closer and staring up at his face, Ryder finally noticed something that gave him a short term task that could actually be completed. “Hm. My guess is that you have been missing for a few months, if that scraggly little mess on your chin is all the beard you were able to grow. I mean, the Unseelie don’t care if you’re clean and fed when they send you out, do they?” he began, talking as if actually getting answers, standing again to dig into his bag as he went on.
“Let’s clean you up a bit. Don’t want you to be any harder to find by your people. I mean, you seem like a nice kid. I’m sure you had people looking for you when you up and disappeared. But they might not recognize you if you’re so scruffy. I mean… I’m not cutting your hair, I got no idea what barbershop pomade and gelatin… stuff might have been going on there… but we can at least get you a shave. Ok, tilt your head bac-“
Ryder had finally found the dagger he was looking for, moving back to Charlie and reaching out to lift his chin when the dead eyes landed on the blade. As if by instinct, Charlie lashed out, his expression as flat as ever even while attempting to kill the perceived threat. It was in his efforts to not accidentally cut the man that Ryder stumbled back, realizing almost instantly the mistake. Of course one of the Unseen Army would be trained to see any weapon as an enemy to destroy, but the stumble back had floored him, knocking his hood off his head, the firelight dancing against the bony features of his face.
Charlie’s attack suddenly fumbled, eyes widening in sudden fear and shock as he jerked back, breath so sharp and fast it was almost stopped. Ryder quickly caught up to him, the dagger dropped as one hand gripped Charlie’s shoulder, the other coming up to the side of his face, his voice soothing.
“Charlie! Charlie, it’s me - it’s Ryder. It’s ok, you’re safe… I’m not going to let anything happen to you… ok? That’s it, Charlie… good…”
The smile could be heard in Ryder’s voice as Charlie began shaking, as this also meant his breath began shifting into gasps that slowly grew longer, eyes closing as Ryder pulled him close, hugging Charlie’s face to his chest and running a comforting hand down his back. “That’s it… I got you, kid… Hah, if I had known that this would have helped break you away from the spell, I’d have done it days ago!” he said with a laugh, relief flooding through him. A breakthrough at last! Maybe… he really could save this young man, unlike all those others. This time, just maybe…
————
It had been thirty years since the dead wouldn’t stay buried, when the world was forced to face the fact that magic truly did exist after all. Farmlands transformed overnight back into their ancient woods, but rarely as the natural, safe depths that were familiar to modern man. One could never tell if that owl hooting in the dark was benign, an echoing memory, or something else altogether. Few trespassed into the misty shadows as it was rare that they would come out again, more than likely to disappear without a trace. There were the occasional survivors who would return from group attempts, but they rarely lasted for long once outside.
The roads had been remade to circle around the forests, often with high fences to prevent the roaming legions of the undead from trapping vehicles and adding to their ranks. The first attack by the Necromancers had wiped out entire cities across the world, converting all who came into contact with their weapons into the undead, a mindless army whose goal was simply to consume and destroy. At first so much was done to destroy them, but even the charred bones would rise again. The only strategy that worked was to eliminate the Necromancer, as the army would die with their master. With this newfound knowledge, the situation was slowly contained, and while the threat of a breach ever loomed, life began to return to its modern ways, if punctuated with occasional tussles and the uneasy truce between the Fae and Unseelie races and humans. More people ended up moving to the cities, as the open spaces of the world were shifting into dens for monsters, forcing humans back down on the food chain. Trains were the new favorite means for travel, as they were faster and better enclosed and reinforced for any attack in the open lands, and easy to seal underground in the cities. It also lessened the threat of becoming one of the so-called ‘Lost Ones’ of the Unseen Army, men and women stolen from their lives to serve sorcerers using necromancy on the living, fodder for the war against the Necromancers created by unknown forces.
Ryder knew better than most what those unknown forces were, or at least who they convinced to break the laws of nature, as that was how he had saved Charlie. One of the last few standing in a bloody battlefield being overrun by the undead, forced to keep fighting to the death by their master as he hid behind his puppets. Ryder had already taken out one of the two Necromancers from that field, but opted to kill the sorcerer who had cursed the poor souls he’d stolen rather than chase after the other Necromancer. Like having their strings cut, his puppets had fallen with him, but to Ryder’s surprise, Charlie had survived. Ryder could only assume he was still new to the Army, only partially linked and so not yet fatally bonded to the Unseelie sorcerer. But damage had still been done to the young man, and Charlie’s recovery and return to his life and people was now Ryder’s goal.
This was why they were traveling to a smaller mountain town, with high fences and armed guards facing the lowlands on one side and a resurrected forest on the other. The location was far more isolated and easily accessed than the larger cities, as there were fewer people and fewer resources to guard, and more routes to escape through. With a few quick words at the gate, Ryder easily gained access for the two of them, chatting up the guards and excusing the somewhat vacant gaze of his companion. Ryder was able to prompt enough of a response from Charlie to keep them from looking too suspicious, but the shock from that one night had proven to have lasting effect days later. Charlie had slowly started to act like a human again, if still in a haze and unable to remember his past. A trigger finger, perhaps, on responding to any perceived threat, but at least he no longer saw the bony figure of Ryder as one.
Even the sight of a dagger didn’t make Charlie react when it was in Ryder’s hand the night after the breakthrough, so he had finally been cleanly shaven, if still rough with the shaggy dark brown curls and dark circles that made his grey eyes look haunted. He was of average height, lean in build, even perhaps a little underweight from his time with the Army, with softer features that normally would have indicated a warm and friendly personality. All that could be seen of Ryder was that he was average in height and build, with a hoodie that shadowed his face and a long trench coat that came down almost to his ankles. There was good reason for this, as the dagger was not the only old-fashioned weapon he carried. With such generic qualities the two went unopposed and openly into the town, barely getting a cursory glance as they wandered the streets of the town.
One might have wondered some thirty years before how someone’s entire face could be hidden in shadow, but with the resurgence of magic returned small spells and tricks, primarily in the use of disguises - the face, the voice, even full appearances for the more complicated spells. All magic had a cost, if not always upfront, so it had been societal taboo at first to use it. But with life moving on with an ever present threat of an undead apocalypse, the concern for it simply faded away. Only two things would frighten humans enough anymore - creatures of magic, such as the Fae and Unseelie, spoke a language that was somehow universally understood but was far from human in origin. The undead didn’t speak at all. Any figure, no matter how human they looked, who couldn’t speak the local human language were attacked on sight. Charlie didn’t say much, of course, but no one seemed surprised to not see Ryder’s face as he rambled on to his companion, heartily returning any greetings given or insults thrown by the few who seemed to notice them.
Ryder was, of course, ecstatic to find the local bar was open, dragging Charlie along. “C’mon! Oh, I’ve been dying for a pint! I need it so much! You probably need it too, so- wait! They have age limits nowadays, uhh… you’re old enough, aren’t you? I think so - can’t tell how old anyone is anymore. Well, I don’t think they’ll card here anyway. I hope,” he went on as he went up to the counter, leaving Charlie a few paces behind to actually order. Drinks acquired, thankfully with no ID required, he immediately downed the entire first glass without so much as a cough, to the amazement of the bartender, then happily carried the other two glasses back, handing Charlie his glass. At first taking the glass out of reflex, Charlie began to look at it quizzically, as if on the verge of remembering. Inspired, Ryder reached out and lifted Charlie’s hand, gently clinking one mug against the other. “Cheers, mate!” he said before downing half again, Charlie slowly lifting his to his lips to mimic the gesture. The taste seemed familiar, as he began drinking more heartily after a few moments, although hardly in the same realm as his protector. Again, the grin could be heard rather than seen as Ryder patted Charlie’s shoulder.
“Hah, nicely done! We’ll take it easy to start, not sure if you’re a lightweight or not. I mean, I could carry you out again if I need to, if I can get the right angle… and not pop something… Mm, what I wouldn’t give to feel the buzz a bit though…” Ryder noted, staring into his glass wistfully, sighing and reminding himself that he should be grateful to at least still enjoy the beer. Didn’t matter if it disappeared into ash once it went past his throat. Besides, he thought as Charlie again took a deep swig of his beer, watching one’s mates get drunk and tracking their behavior for blackmail material was quite fun as well.
And after only a week from rescuing him, Ryder thought he could see the faint glimmer at the end of the tunnel that was Charlie’s recovery. That was certainly something to celebrate.
It was a cool night, the sounds of the forest haunting in its echos. The chill in the air felt ancient, forcing a stillness that was unnatural, unnerving, and would deter most from staying in its space. There was a forlorn bird call ringing through the air, but no response came, no stirring of leaves to suggest it had actually been a bird singing in the night.
The stillness was disrupted by the flickering fire, traditionally surrounded by stones and the makings of a small camp. Only the makings, as one of the pair had been resting by a tree and the other had never quite mastered the complicated and probably unnecessarily large set of poles and tabs that comprised the small, uneven tent that now sat not quite haphazardly between two tree trunks. The circle of mushrooms next to the tent was not within crushing distance should anything happen to the tent, but it was close enough to be a danger to any would-be intruder.
Once the fire was lit, Ryder helped his companion to settle on a log next to it, draping a blanket about his shoulders and putting a water bottle in his hands. Then, seeing no action, guided a drink of water, repeating some of the gestures with friendly encouragement to keep going. When his suggestions went unheeded, he finally gave up and began securing their perimeter. This mostly meant he looked around for the fifth time since finding the spot, making sure there wasn’t some trap door under a shrub or tree branch he had missed before. Their proximity to the fairy ring kept them safe given the risks it posed for any to step within it, but Ryder wasn’t used to having to worry about something attacking or being drawn to the firelight, and his unexpected companion was at risk of almost everything.
Sitting back down by the fire, Ryder tried to relax as he normally would, but found himself more than idly checking around them, certain he heard rustles in the undergrowth whenever he wasn’t looking, which of course was just paranoia. Anything that would attack them here wouldn’t bother sneaking up. He finally stretched to ease his tension, cracking the bones in his neck before slumping again, propping his chin on his hands as he stared over at his odd companion. The listless stare was unsettling to see, so familiar but foreign on a living face. It had barely shifted since they encountered one another a few days prior, with only glimmers of a frightened young man who still had some mind and spirit intact even after everything he had been through.
Ryder sighed heavily, giving in to the urge to check on his self-appointed charge. He made sure he was warm enough but not too close to the fire, steady on the log bench but not stiffening into a husk. Another guided drink, and Ryder sat down beside him, rubbing his face with both hands. “What now, Charlie?” he asked the other, not getting any reaction for the randomly chosen name. Sitting so much closer and staring up at his face, Ryder finally noticed something that gave him a short term task that could actually be completed. “Hm. My guess is that you have been missing for a few months, if that scraggly little mess on your chin is all the beard you were able to grow. I mean, the Unseelie don’t care if you’re clean and fed when they send you out, do they?” he began, talking as if actually getting answers, standing again to dig into his bag as he went on.
“Let’s clean you up a bit. Don’t want you to be any harder to find by your people. I mean, you seem like a nice kid. I’m sure you had people looking for you when you up and disappeared. But they might not recognize you if you’re so scruffy. I mean… I’m not cutting your hair, I got no idea what barbershop pomade and gelatin… stuff might have been going on there… but we can at least get you a shave. Ok, tilt your head bac-“
Ryder had finally found the dagger he was looking for, moving back to Charlie and reaching out to lift his chin when the dead eyes landed on the blade. As if by instinct, Charlie lashed out, his expression as flat as ever even while attempting to kill the perceived threat. It was in his efforts to not accidentally cut the man that Ryder stumbled back, realizing almost instantly the mistake. Of course one of the Unseen Army would be trained to see any weapon as an enemy to destroy, but the stumble back had floored him, knocking his hood off his head, the firelight dancing against the bony features of his face.
Charlie’s attack suddenly fumbled, eyes widening in sudden fear and shock as he jerked back, breath so sharp and fast it was almost stopped. Ryder quickly caught up to him, the dagger dropped as one hand gripped Charlie’s shoulder, the other coming up to the side of his face, his voice soothing.
“Charlie! Charlie, it’s me - it’s Ryder. It’s ok, you’re safe… I’m not going to let anything happen to you… ok? That’s it, Charlie… good…”
The smile could be heard in Ryder’s voice as Charlie began shaking, as this also meant his breath began shifting into gasps that slowly grew longer, eyes closing as Ryder pulled him close, hugging Charlie’s face to his chest and running a comforting hand down his back. “That’s it… I got you, kid… Hah, if I had known that this would have helped break you away from the spell, I’d have done it days ago!” he said with a laugh, relief flooding through him. A breakthrough at last! Maybe… he really could save this young man, unlike all those others. This time, just maybe…
————
It had been thirty years since the dead wouldn’t stay buried, when the world was forced to face the fact that magic truly did exist after all. Farmlands transformed overnight back into their ancient woods, but rarely as the natural, safe depths that were familiar to modern man. One could never tell if that owl hooting in the dark was benign, an echoing memory, or something else altogether. Few trespassed into the misty shadows as it was rare that they would come out again, more than likely to disappear without a trace. There were the occasional survivors who would return from group attempts, but they rarely lasted for long once outside.
The roads had been remade to circle around the forests, often with high fences to prevent the roaming legions of the undead from trapping vehicles and adding to their ranks. The first attack by the Necromancers had wiped out entire cities across the world, converting all who came into contact with their weapons into the undead, a mindless army whose goal was simply to consume and destroy. At first so much was done to destroy them, but even the charred bones would rise again. The only strategy that worked was to eliminate the Necromancer, as the army would die with their master. With this newfound knowledge, the situation was slowly contained, and while the threat of a breach ever loomed, life began to return to its modern ways, if punctuated with occasional tussles and the uneasy truce between the Fae and Unseelie races and humans. More people ended up moving to the cities, as the open spaces of the world were shifting into dens for monsters, forcing humans back down on the food chain. Trains were the new favorite means for travel, as they were faster and better enclosed and reinforced for any attack in the open lands, and easy to seal underground in the cities. It also lessened the threat of becoming one of the so-called ‘Lost Ones’ of the Unseen Army, men and women stolen from their lives to serve sorcerers using necromancy on the living, fodder for the war against the Necromancers created by unknown forces.
Ryder knew better than most what those unknown forces were, or at least who they convinced to break the laws of nature, as that was how he had saved Charlie. One of the last few standing in a bloody battlefield being overrun by the undead, forced to keep fighting to the death by their master as he hid behind his puppets. Ryder had already taken out one of the two Necromancers from that field, but opted to kill the sorcerer who had cursed the poor souls he’d stolen rather than chase after the other Necromancer. Like having their strings cut, his puppets had fallen with him, but to Ryder’s surprise, Charlie had survived. Ryder could only assume he was still new to the Army, only partially linked and so not yet fatally bonded to the Unseelie sorcerer. But damage had still been done to the young man, and Charlie’s recovery and return to his life and people was now Ryder’s goal.
This was why they were traveling to a smaller mountain town, with high fences and armed guards facing the lowlands on one side and a resurrected forest on the other. The location was far more isolated and easily accessed than the larger cities, as there were fewer people and fewer resources to guard, and more routes to escape through. With a few quick words at the gate, Ryder easily gained access for the two of them, chatting up the guards and excusing the somewhat vacant gaze of his companion. Ryder was able to prompt enough of a response from Charlie to keep them from looking too suspicious, but the shock from that one night had proven to have lasting effect days later. Charlie had slowly started to act like a human again, if still in a haze and unable to remember his past. A trigger finger, perhaps, on responding to any perceived threat, but at least he no longer saw the bony figure of Ryder as one.
Even the sight of a dagger didn’t make Charlie react when it was in Ryder’s hand the night after the breakthrough, so he had finally been cleanly shaven, if still rough with the shaggy dark brown curls and dark circles that made his grey eyes look haunted. He was of average height, lean in build, even perhaps a little underweight from his time with the Army, with softer features that normally would have indicated a warm and friendly personality. All that could be seen of Ryder was that he was average in height and build, with a hoodie that shadowed his face and a long trench coat that came down almost to his ankles. There was good reason for this, as the dagger was not the only old-fashioned weapon he carried. With such generic qualities the two went unopposed and openly into the town, barely getting a cursory glance as they wandered the streets of the town.
One might have wondered some thirty years before how someone’s entire face could be hidden in shadow, but with the resurgence of magic returned small spells and tricks, primarily in the use of disguises - the face, the voice, even full appearances for the more complicated spells. All magic had a cost, if not always upfront, so it had been societal taboo at first to use it. But with life moving on with an ever present threat of an undead apocalypse, the concern for it simply faded away. Only two things would frighten humans enough anymore - creatures of magic, such as the Fae and Unseelie, spoke a language that was somehow universally understood but was far from human in origin. The undead didn’t speak at all. Any figure, no matter how human they looked, who couldn’t speak the local human language were attacked on sight. Charlie didn’t say much, of course, but no one seemed surprised to not see Ryder’s face as he rambled on to his companion, heartily returning any greetings given or insults thrown by the few who seemed to notice them.
Ryder was, of course, ecstatic to find the local bar was open, dragging Charlie along. “C’mon! Oh, I’ve been dying for a pint! I need it so much! You probably need it too, so- wait! They have age limits nowadays, uhh… you’re old enough, aren’t you? I think so - can’t tell how old anyone is anymore. Well, I don’t think they’ll card here anyway. I hope,” he went on as he went up to the counter, leaving Charlie a few paces behind to actually order. Drinks acquired, thankfully with no ID required, he immediately downed the entire first glass without so much as a cough, to the amazement of the bartender, then happily carried the other two glasses back, handing Charlie his glass. At first taking the glass out of reflex, Charlie began to look at it quizzically, as if on the verge of remembering. Inspired, Ryder reached out and lifted Charlie’s hand, gently clinking one mug against the other. “Cheers, mate!” he said before downing half again, Charlie slowly lifting his to his lips to mimic the gesture. The taste seemed familiar, as he began drinking more heartily after a few moments, although hardly in the same realm as his protector. Again, the grin could be heard rather than seen as Ryder patted Charlie’s shoulder.
“Hah, nicely done! We’ll take it easy to start, not sure if you’re a lightweight or not. I mean, I could carry you out again if I need to, if I can get the right angle… and not pop something… Mm, what I wouldn’t give to feel the buzz a bit though…” Ryder noted, staring into his glass wistfully, sighing and reminding himself that he should be grateful to at least still enjoy the beer. Didn’t matter if it disappeared into ash once it went past his throat. Besides, he thought as Charlie again took a deep swig of his beer, watching one’s mates get drunk and tracking their behavior for blackmail material was quite fun as well.
And after only a week from rescuing him, Ryder thought he could see the faint glimmer at the end of the tunnel that was Charlie’s recovery. That was certainly something to celebrate.