[ET] A CONTRACT FULFILLED

[Petsch2k 1851]

 

 A CONTRACT FULFILLED

 

 

 

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GUILD FIELD CONTRACT REPORT

Filed by: [Louis II, Vice-Guildmaster, Petra Chapter House]

Location of Operation: [Outskirts of Riviense]

 

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I. MISSION OBJECTIVE

The Vice-Guildmaster seeks to squash a dangerous cult that has taken root within the lands of the Archduchy. His network has informed him that there is a patrol of cultists operating alongside the north eastern outskirts of Petra. Recover their heads as proof of kill.
 

 

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II. OPERATING PARTY

Rank / Role	Name	Order	Status
Grandmaster	Lothric	Order of Helwyr	Active
Orderman	Pepe	Order of Helwyr	Wounded
Orderman	Irulan	Order of Helwyr	Active
Orderman	Adonael	Order of Helwyr	Active

 

 

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III. ACTION SUMMARY

The Order of Helwyr departed the northern gates and set off on their hunt for the cutlist patrol. They managed to successfully ambush the Cultists and engage in combat. A brief skirmish ensued; all Cultists were slain and beheaded. They were brought back to the Guild and passed verification. Minor to Moderate wounds were sustained.

 

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IV. RESULTS & VERIFICATION

• Objective Status: ✅ Completed
   
• Proof Submitted: 4 heads of confirmed cultists
   
• Reward: 20 mina per head — Total: 80 mina
   
• Verification Officer: [Louis II / Vice-Guildmaster]

 

 

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THE MISSION

 

In the Military District one could see many workers going in and out of a building hurriedly. The Paradisian Guild was setting up a Chapter House within the capital of Petra. Within a Vice-Guildmaster giving the Order of Helwyr their first contract. 

 

The Vice-Guildmaster eyed the Ordermen of Helwyr. “The Guildmaster has high hopes for the Odre of the Petrine, and for the Order of Helwyr…” he stated plainly as he briefed them on their first contract. To kill and bring back the heads of cultists that seem to be rising in activity in the area, terrorizing the populace and harming current trade routes. Soon after the Vice-Guildmaster said his farewells and wished them luck in battle before continuing guiding the workers leaving the rest to deliberate amongst themselves.

 

Lothric “We'll engage from afar and advance once their archers are dead, then.” His head bobbed once before he replied, “We'll search them for any strange icons, too - things that might answer more questions than a corpse can.” 

 

Adonael Amethil: “We have only three of us. Lothric, once we have confirmed their location, give me time to prepare. I can make up for the lack in our numbers.” he said as he tucks a dagger into his belt and stands up. 

 

Lothric sidestepped and gestured for Irulan to follow alongside him. He began to brief her, rambling a summary of their discussion. “…We'll be going on foot. Stealthy engagement….” 

 

As they set off on their mission, they began to reach the Autumn woodlands.  “Hold up.” said Irulan as they clambered up onto the lifted roots, bracing herself on the ashen tree-trunk. From her position, she looked down into the sloping treeline, looking for signs. “Quiet, now,” said Lothric “Keep close to the trees and move swiftly.”  As the Ordermen traversed the Autumn Meadows, they would feel a sinister aura lingering, the faint smell of blood, the taint of rot. So far there was nothing in the clearing ahead, but they slowly continued onwards with their hunt. “.. Smell that?” said Irulan, but the expression which dawned on her face and her tone indicated she knew that they had picked up that same scent. The group came to a slow stop at the top of this embankment. Irulan clambers upon the roots of a tree, peering off. The scent of rot and blood lingers in the air. 

 

Lothric's nose wrinkled as they drew closer to the clearing. The scent of decay seemed rather strong, even at a distance. His brows furrowed as he continued forward, albeit slowly. He placed his boots between clutches of leaves and dry grass - avoiding crunching them underfoot. “Yeah,” he spoke plainly, his tone low and measured. Pepe de Trastámara would continue his walking inwards through the treelines, his Helwyr garb making barely a sound, padfoot treatments granting him an array of stealth that is grand to hold. He would crouch to the ground, eyes of acuity seemingly scanning the --- area for any foe. During this, the Helwyrs spellblade would have drawn his arbalest, not loading it just yet so as to not strain the bowstring. 

 

Irulan stooped low behind the roots, but pointed out into the clearing. Something morbid lay in the grasses far ahead. The clearing was large, the forest surrounding this giant empty circle of grass and fauna, if it was another day it would have been a beautiful trek through these lands, but an open field on a mission such as this, it was a death trap. “Should we follow the treeline left?” Irulan suggested “With our backs to the mountains- I think that'd be a safe bet.”. Suddenly a murder of crows raised into the air, towards the east, lothric's gaze lingered on the distant, grisly scene. His left hand tightened around his shield-grip as he said, “See that?” - “Just so, Irulan. Left, rotating clockwise to get nearer. We can get a bit closer, yet still maintain our cover.” His gaze scanned the flying crows before dropping down to the opposite edge of the clearing. Irulan's eyes lifted to follow the crows. She set her jaw, and then those golden orbs flooded with silverlight until they became entirely opaque. A wispy fog rose from her form, and fell like upwards drifting tears at the corners of her eyes, connected. 

 

Adonael Amethil: “Walk around the trees. Catch them from the side. Allow me a moment, Lothric. I can summon my wolves now.”. “There'd be more noise as we travel through,” Lothric warned. “Let us wait until we are closer, then.” Adonael nodded as he continued to follow his brothers-in-arms. Lothric strode onward, still stepping clear of dry leaves and grasses as he went. Irulan began moving leftward, slipping a bolt from her belt-quiver. Pallid fingers turned ashen and then formed blackened claws. Fog mixed with flakes of ashy smoke as she breathed out. Some odd mixture of aura and .. Something else. She flicked a blackened claw along the bolt-head, inscribing into it a rune instilled with a rumbling heat. The arrowhead became alight with a steady flame. She carried it for now. 

 

“I'll provide cover,” she said, crouching behind a root. The elf loaded that flaming bolt. “You three move to the next tree-line

 

“…Let's skirt the base of the mountain. Quick as we can. … On the other side, Adonael. There, you should be free.” His head bobbed towards Irulan before he braced in preparation. Adonael Amethil's gaze casts to the nearby trees, curious were he to find any scouts over the small space. 

 

[!] Towards the South East another noise could be heard, laughter. The stench of blood carried by the wind grew stronger. It seems they were very close, and unseen. 

 

“I’ll summon now, Lothric.” He urges more this time, gritting his teeth at the smell. Queasy to blood, this elf was. Irulan lay her loaded crossbow atop the roots so that it could be utterly stable. She shouldered it, and returned her attention to the south-east treeline, even as fog and mist whipped about her focused form. 

Pepe de Trastámara would nod to the words of Irulan, placing his arbalest away upon his back, instead a small runic glyph flashing upon his grasp as a sword of castle forged steel appears within his hands. Along with this glyph would the singular eye of Pepe glow golden , and a distinct picking up of a draft of winds around the Helwyr spellblade. 

 

Lothric's lips drew into a line as the noise. “…Very well, Adonael.” He stepped close, then quickly marched in tandem with Pepe to cross the clearing and enter the opposing line of trees. Adonael Amethil's hand reaches forward. His spelltome rises from his side, and opens wide. Words dance across the pages, lifting up as black ink that flies into three large dots before him. From within these dots, flesh and sinew begin to sprout, forming into a trio of beating hearts in the air, rapidly growing bone and muscle from it, extending further until three skinless wolves sat before him. Fur and eyes came last. The hounds do not make a noise, entirely subservient to their maker. Adonael grimaces, “I can control only this many with precision.” 

 

Moments before battle…

 

Lothric and Pepe would see the patrol come into view, they were still hidden and as the rain began to fall, so did it dampen their sound…. Irulan made her best imitation of an owl's cry. A warning to her companions as they continued down the embankment. Adonael Amethil gestures forward, and two wolves follow closely behind Lothric and Pepe. A third remains between Adonael and Irulan. The wolves hunkered down low to the ground, making no noise but for their paws on wet grass. Adonael begins forward, to the right to avoid being seen hopefully. Lothric sank down against the stones and lowered his shield. He peered back towards the others and awaited further information; his head of platinum hair would be too visible if he tried observing the enemies himself at such a close range. His breathing stilled and a silent rasp of steel matched the pattering of rainfall - he lay in the grass against that stone, armed and alert. 

 

 The cultist patrol finally came into view, chainmail and plate rattled as they wielded arming swords and shields. They chattered amongst themselves before one stopped in his tracks as he looked left…. Irulan immediately released her crossbow, poised and aimed upon that party of cultists. The one who turned left, within her sights. A metallic thud rang out as her bow released a flaming bolt in his direction! 

 

FWMP! The Cultist warrior that turned was about to shout as his eyes widen seeing the Ordermen come out of the wood works. But Irulan's bolt pierced his skull, he saw pitch black after that. In the realm of the living his body slumped to the ground alerting the rest of the warriors. They screamed their war cries before charging towards the Helwyr. Night fell. 

 

 

The skirmish had begun. 

 

Immediately upon spotting the patrol Pepe placed the helmet hanging off of his belt and atop his head, there would be a sudden conjuring of the winds draft upon a sphere of seemingly pure mana arcing

ferociously encased in a pocket of air floating above the helwyr. He would move forward, blade in hand, his footsteps light and without sound from the cascading of the rain and the treatments of padfoot. If the men could not see, Pepe de Trastamara would be akin to a Ghost. The three wolves all begin to rush forward. They do not bunch up, but spread out, intending on acting as a wide-spread 'wall' between the Helwyr group and them. Adonael himself hits the floor, laying in the grass and peeking out from a prone position. Absolutely muddy. 

 

As the bolt whistled overhead and landed true, Lothric immediately braced himself against the dirt and pushed - forcing himself up to his feet with the shield between himself and the group of cultists. He charged in the wake of one wolf, ashen irises flickering across the field to assess the positions of who remained - and their armaments. It seemed he was focused on approaching the nearest tree for added cover. 

 

“Archer next,” Lothric bellowed to nobody in particular. He strode forth, bridging more of the gap between himself and the cultist warrior before him. His blade rose and rested flat against the edge of his shield, which stood between himself and the warrior being attacked by the wolf. Irulan couldn't help but flash a grin as her bolt struck true and the man collapsed a moment later. She rose up, and with that she became alight with moonlit fog. It snarled around her form, snatching at the winds which began to whip about her 

 

The singular cultist archer would lock in on Pepe, drawing his bow as he aimed towards his chest. He let go and an arrow flew in the air. The wind which surged around Irulan now reached its full potential. Encompassed in a vortex of moonlit vapors, this barrier expanded out to reach a 4 metre radius, capable of halting projectiles as powerful as those delivered by a crossbow. She maintained a focus on this spell solely, her teeth gritted. Mist spilled from her nostrils with each ragged exhale. The elf moved forward, determined to defend her friends from further attacks. “Adonael! With me!” Adonael Amethil moves up along with Irulan to not be flung about by her barrier! “Ah - That's so cool!” 

 

Pepe de Trastámara would have an arrow loose upon his chest, his attempted rush being met purely with sheer force. The winds gathering around the Scion, would be dissipated by the pain. In return, he would continue moving towards battle, his blade dragging against the --- ground as he moved forth to the archer that loosed the arrow upon him. A distinct vengeance within his eyes, one of them glowing fiercely as a distinct aura of heat would emanate from the helwyr, he plans to grant pain. As he would rush forth, the Mad Helwyr cackled as he moved close to the Archer who was unable to defend themselves within the range. His steel blade rushed in for a stab right upon the upper chest region of the archer, and in the meanwhile a spark of flame would spark upon the free hand of Pepe, his plan of revenge coming to fruition! As Pepe stabbed the archer, his blade would sink into his chest as the cultist screamed in pain. He eyed Pepe with pure hatred before his body went limp…

 

The last remaining wolf would charge the Cultist Warrior, but he was prepared, he swiftly struck down the wolf killing it. He let our a roar as he cursed the Ordermen. Adonael Amethil: “Right…” Adonael frowns when hie last wolf falls. The corpses melting into nothing. Instead he brings one hand up, and once more ink moves up from his pages. The relatively tired looking elf narrows his eyes, and the ink would move into an orb before his other hand, which ignites into a fire, blazing gold and the size of a fist. He murmurs to his wife. 

 

The closest remaining cultist warrior would quickly begin his charge towards Irulan, screaming curses at them, the stench of blood and rot was strong…Adonael Amethil steps to the right then, and lifts his spell up. That projectile of his flying off towards Cultist Warrior C, a mot of flame. He knew it would be going into the field of air, so he calls aloud - “Irulan, drop your barrier!” Irulan's grin faltered some as she recalled she was, in fact, not a scion anymore. Irulan heeded the caution of Adonael and in an instant the winds vanished. Though fog did whisper about the ground at her feet - stirring when the cultist came charging through it. The cultist got to about an inch of Irulan before she vanished, leaving behind a silhouette of fog. A streak of silver light zipped backwards and to the right, where she re-appeared in a burst of vapors. She staggered out of that translocation, her head spinning. The Warrior would fall to his knees as the projectile burned him, he screamed in agony as he dropped to the floor…. 

 

Adonael Amethil turns around to face the woods. His focus upon any others that may be watching, keeping a lookout. He trusted the big lads to get the last warrior. “Yikes..” Irulan grimaced, turning to see the cultist collapse into a heap of smouldering remains. She glanced at Adonael with a stupid grin on her face, impressed. Her aura subsided as she disconnected, but still replenished her crossbow by cranking it back, using her boot to aid with leverage. “Charming.” 

 

Pepe de Trastámara came from behind, his silent steps proving themselves handy as his sword now ENWREATHED IN COMBUSTIVE FLAME would be now ready to deliver his strike. A horrific stab that would be plunged into the unprotected back of the Cultist. And upon its contact upon the Cultist, a devastating KABOOM would ring out through the forests! Birds flying away from their nests, for there be an explosion!  Lothric's gaze flickered from the oncoming attack, to Pepe, and back again. He bladed his body towards the cultist and their sword landed square against his armored shoulder and scraped down, delivering a shallow cut onto the high elf's shoulder. He lurched to the side, making way for Pepe's final explosive strike to land upon the remaining cultist. 

 

As Pepe swung his flaming sword upon the back of Cultist, it would break his spine, and a loud CRACK could be heard. The Cultist Warrior eyes rolled back as Pepe's sword hit…. The cultist patrol has been slain, The Guild shall be pleased. 

 

The Order of Helwyr had proven their worth. 

 

 

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[Keening 1264]

Lothric spent a while bandaging the thin gash upon shoulder and resting.

Already, he was on the mend.

 

"A job well done," the high elf remarked to his compatriots.

[Hodgeling 403]

Irulan patrolled the clearing in the days that followed the hunt. The bodies of victims had since been burned, the cultists discarded. The scene of blood and rot had now gone altogether, and a calm had fallen upon the valley. She sat upon root, solemn eyes cast down the embankment to where those zealots had thrown themselves so readily upon steel. The arbalest hung loosely from her belt, and she smiled, recalling how swiftly one had fallen prey to a very lucky shot.