Simr Lars, Knight of the Floral White, adjusted the haft of his halberd to suit his need for comfort. There had been a time when he preferred the blade over the standard and wreaked a bloody toll upon his enemies. A rumbustious joy of memories played out at the corner of his mind, the stuff of glorious deeds and tragic tales of fallen heroes. But that had been years ago since his first introduction to the world. Since his chance to face the red monstrous foes. Time forged him as a terrible foe, wiser and more cautious than charging recklessly into battle. And he longed to move.

He centred himself at the area of the hamlet, waiting for the one man that requested his audience. Snow stacked upon his helmet that measured how long the knight stood out in the open. He could have moved, but the cold didn't bother him. Unlike the average humans, Partishans were created out of sturdier material, and they could weather any storm, hot or cold. Though that did not mean most were immune to a degree of patience. In truth, most avoid interaction with their lesser kin if they could help it.

Lars turned slowly, studying at a nearby statue to pass the time. The marble construct suffered greatly under the cold exposure as large cracks began to form and break in a gradual crumble. Overgrown roots coiled its body like a lover, tightening with its razor-sharp thorns that grated the surface. Its head was lost, buried somewhere under snow or forever lost to time. He could imagine what the statue looked like before its degradation. As one of the few knights who appreciated the work of art, the figure would have been a spectacular sight if not a reminder that portrayed some beastly presentation.

A land of beasts and monsters. Lars could not fathom what to think of it. The discovery back at the longhouse didn't surprise him much more than a grim confirmation of their growing predicament. Remnants of the legion and a contingent of Partishans were hurdled to a realm bereft of their kin, replaced by a new element that they have not yet encountered. The mere idea of animals with the mind intellect similar to a human was enough to make Lars snorted in amusement. His kinsmen would take no pains to hide their contempt, disgusted to rid of these creatures when given the command. But he knew better. Even as he knew that Grand Callus would seek compromise with the beastfolk to ensure their survival. He understood the reason for the temporary cooperation. That did not mean he liked the idea of contacting these abysmal creatures.

A crunch of snow caught Lar's attention by the ear as he shifted at the prime target in black and blue uniform. The soldier approached in a steady, almost mechanical pace of movement, almost unafraid to meet him. Between the difference of the two, the Partishans were bigger, stronger and far quicker than the mortals. Their sight alone would be enough to make any lesser kin tremble with unease or fear. But seeing the uniform, Lars could expect the dull fearlessness of the Blue Jay whether they were brave or mad. Or sometimes both.

When the soldier came inches close, he clapped his boots together and slammed a fist to his chest, gesturing in a salute. "Designated Javin of the leading vanguards," he spoke in a loud manner, directly on point without doubt in his voice. "I offer my apologies for the late delay, my grand."

Lars remained silent, his head slightly inclined at the soldier that stood before him, acting more like a statue at this point. Javin was about to utter something when Lars silenced him with a gesture. He had no love for the legion. No love when hundreds forsake their duties to the Empire at the closing year of the war. Though the legion had quashed the resistance with brutal precision, they had never regained the trust of the Partishans.

"Enough with the platitudes, Blue Jay," Lars hissed, uncaring to remember the soldier's name. A dash of blue and gold caught at the corner of his eye as the mixed group of Jays and Cardinals concluded the last sweep of the house. If he had to admit, but one thing about the legion, it would be their efficiency to get the job done. "Take me what you found and be done with it. My patience are finite."

Javin stared at the knight, his features indifferent or rather good at masking his emotions. "Fair enough, my grand," he said, bowed his head slightly without a hint of mockery. "If you, please, follow me." He shifted a turn. He eyed at the two nearby cardinal soldiers with a steady gaze. At a command, they fell in line from behind, their stance poised and muskets ready.

Lars treaded their trail that led them to the source, the reason for his time wasted on. Like the rest of the hamlet, black roots coiled around the home as if it tried to prevent any intruders from granting access. Thick pile of snow almost submerged the entire building. If the structure were left undisturbed, it would have been lost altogether. Lars neared to one of the walls and jostled the snow aside. His keen eyes caught traces of weapons and other obscure claws that marked the rough stone. He shook his head, stifling a sigh of boredom.

"Right this way, my grand," Javin said, and the two legionnaires behind him proceeded to enter first into the building, their movement almost had a hint of urgency to it. Lars took notice of that and paused as the Blue Jay once more invitingly gestured to the entrance. "If you please."

Lars lowered his head from the door frame that was too small to fit his oversized body. Adjusted the light from the room, he stared at the reason for Javin's distress and his body stiffened. 

The room had been torn asunder, wrecked by some wild, feral predators that prowled for trace of food. Most of the floor had been removed, taken inch by inch with incredible force and replaced with a giant gape that lead deep below the earth. To where the knight stood, it looked more like a burrow.

"We were unsure how far the tunnel leads when discover it," Javin began, striding from the side of the knight. He stared at the entrance and shuddered, a cold chill ran behind his spine.

Lars did not respond, kneeling to one knee to inspect the ground with grim silence. His eyes spotted something of interest and he scooped up from his fingers to hold a feather. It was the size as near as his arm, black like midnight which reek of dried blood and rot. He detected a small measure of power, sick with the familiar foulness like the dagger from the longhouse. 

"For the time being, nothing has emerged from underground," Javin continued and glanced at two of his men, signalling them to depart. They did so gladly and left without a word. "We've set explosives to blast everything to rubble. With your command we can…"

"That won't be necessary," Lars pushed himself to his feet and Javin felt a twitch as he loomed forward in an intimidating presence. "Save your time for expense, Jay. You will not destroy this place."

"Pardon?" Javin asked, unsure if he heard it right.

Lars turned away to look down once more at the burrow. His eyes twinkled with savage eagerness as if a prey had present itself for the kill. "Fate has given an opportunity," he said, his knuckles popped like a fire of musket rounds. "We will not waste such a chance."

Javin stared at him, wide-eyed. He was about to protest this course of action. Instead, only silence remained in his lips, hopeless to reject of what came next.

"Bring back your men," Lars said with a mirthless chuckle. "It is time to see what lay underneath our feet."

They proceeded down the dark, abysmal tunnel, uneven and ragged as if rushed by uncaring hands, or something monstrous. Dried stains of blood smeared against the walls, painting the scene of a slaughter that massacred the inhabitants of the hamlet long ago. After a studious examination upon the surrounding, Lars concluded the construction of these tunnels to be of the latter as several black feathers were later found scattered across the ground and more the further they went.

The air from within reeked a foul, acrid odour of spoiled, rotten meat. Lars had gotten used to the smell. His time on the battlefield hardened his resolve, but it hadn't been kind to Javin as he was close to the point of collapse. The three soldiers tailed him from behind, treading their steps with a torch in one hand and a pistol at the other. Already, the instant they passed through the burrow, unease filled them, but it was more than irritation instead of fearing to whatever unknown horrors lurked below the darkness. Like the company namesake, they had a strong distaste for travelling underground. To be restricted in the short confines of space, isolation was not a suitable thing for a legionnaire to excel as capable combatants. While some thrive below the dirt and mud, most tended to avoid it, relying on the imperial forces to carry out the miserable deed.

Descended miles long into the tunnel, the first signs of corruption revealed themselves as black purplish ichor spread against the walls like a cancer. Something lingered dormant beyond the end of their trail, its power too much for the legionnaires to handle as their features riddled with pain.

Seeing himself immune to its touch, Lars gestured the group to a halt. "I will go alone from here," he said to Javin. He did not turn around, already caught the sound of wheeze from the mortal's throat. "Stand guard while I venture ahead. Kill anything that passes through."

Before Javin could even acknowledge an answer, Lars had already gone ahead, far distancing himself from the group with inhuman pace. His eyes fell forward, his vicious smile cemented behind the helm. He came to meet this so-called threat and longed to see what the world had to offer. Perhaps, in a moment of consideration, he should have invited the rest of his fellow kinsmen, but he grated the thought aside. They had their duties, and so he had his. One was enough for the task, and one was all that was needed to be.

As the light from the soldiers' torches faded into darkness, another had come in the exchange. Baleful, purplish glow thrummed and flickered like the beating of a heart, inviting souls of blood to the center of its chamber. Within a fraction of a second, dark silhouettes emerged that caught Lars to his attention. They were a monstrous sight to behold, twisted and mutated beastfolk that fallen prey to corruption. Some retained their bestial outlook with black feathers protruding from their limbs. Yet most had fallen further, their bodies deformed into a monstrous raven, unsuitable to be called as mere beasts. 

Lars peeled back his teeth, but not out of a smile. Not at the moment anyway when a challenge presented itself. He felt a tinge of sympathy for the inhabitants of the hamlet. To them, they were victims of misfortune, slaves to the fate that pulled them in a miserable existence. He later quashed such sentiments. Compassion was not the time to dwell upon. The time for slaughter was, and he would enjoy every single of it.

One of the mutated beasts assailed at him, its feathered arm outreached. Instinctively, Lars grabbed the creature by the throat and hoisted it up from the ground without effort. The beast was fast, but the knight was faster. It snarled at him, scratching its one rotten claw on his vambrace with little to no effect. He had but a moment to stare at the beast, looking straight in its black orbs that show his own reflection. With a flick of a gesture, the sound of crunching bones was rewarded as he squeezed the beast's neck that snapped like a twig. It yelped in surprise, jerked and finally went silent, its body dangling to a limp.

Beasts and ravens both shrieked in a wordless roar as the monsters threw themselves at him, hungry in their bloodlust to tear his flesh open. Half a heartbeat, Lars gazed at the monsters, all wild and feral in their lethal abandonment. They had little care for themselves and others, which made it all the easier for the knight to exploit. Tossing the corpse aside, he arrowed at the nearest target, leaping up high to meet him with ravenous, avian claws. Its crooked beak of a raven that was once a beast sought the chance to claim the kill, only to have it ended up dying prematurely.

The tip of his halberd motioned in direction at the descending raven. His weapon plunged into its chest as blood spilled forth down on his pristine armour. Lars whirled around, unable to waste time when they were all around him. He dispensed the second, the third and the fourth, all three falling down into mangle ruin by his halberd. Bodies were torn, limbs and heads chopped off like pieces of meat. Without a spare glance at the bloody mess, he hurled himself onto the next, seeking more prey that had no shortage of supply.

There was a feral lethality on the pale knight's movement, a dance that surrounded them in a haze. The culmination of years forged in war earned him the genuine understanding to the killing blow. No action was wasted. No movement was without cause. Lars was, in a heartbeat, the center of the stage, an actor to perform for his audience, and death rewarded them all the eternal slumber.

The battle had done quickly and brutally in a fashion that would make his late kin proud. He slammed the edge of his halberd down at the last beast, its head shattered and pulped that gush in a geyser of red. A sea of blood washed over his armour, stinking with the foulness that he had come to expect from ugly monsters. But he won, sated. His eyes scanned the wreckage that he created, their bodies limp and broken under the boot of his tread.

Those that survived quickly fled from the carnage, from him, fear wavering from their early intention for a probable exit. But instead of retreating deep into the tunnel, they went the other way around, coming to meet the soldiers with pistols beamed and raised. Bestial screams and blast of gunshots echoed throughout the tunnel until silence fell to order.

Without the encumbrance that stalked the shadows, Lars was free to move forward into the tunnel. The afflicted bearers were dead, slain by his own hand and later at the hands of the legionnaires. None were left alive. The purple light grew stronger, closer at the end of his trail. His destination had taken the Partishan in a large, spacious chamber that reeked an awful stench worse than even the monsters. A score of chewed, rotten bones, large and small alike, scattered across the ground that foresaw the doom to the inhabitants. At least they were fortunate enough to not be twisted from the corruption. He arrowed onward, without sparing a glance at the corpses. His boots pressed meagre bones into powder as he locked eyes at the source of it all, glaring in its vile illumination that formed beasts into monsters.

Lay beside the arms of a skeleton was a golden sceptre, its design regal with immense beauty that enwrapped in black shroud of a cloak. Alone, it thrummed a tremendous power, insidious for the Partishan to recoil the closer he got to it. Voices long unknown and dead whispered behind his ears, soft and sweet and inviting the tone that it almost tempted the knight into submission. Despite the pain, despite the sliver of uneasiness invaded his heart and mind, Lars could not help but marvel. It was the most impressive thing in his life, and he hated it with every fibre.

With gritted teeth, he raised his boot up from the ground and slammed it hard at the head of the sceptre, its power gushed forth an explosion of empirical force. Purplish hue of light flickered to a sudden halt, and darkness claimed the chamber, leaving the knight alone to dwell amongst the dead.

[...]

When the legionnaires caught the noise of several hurried footsteps and wicked growls, they knew that they were in a fight. Spread out in formation, their hands gripped tight around the pistol's handle and lifted at aim to meet the enemies in tow. When torches of light saw the glares in the dark, the men pulled the trigger and fired.

Shots of spark and metal beamed to descend upon the foes, shrieks of pain echoed through the tunnel until their voices sank into silence. But not all of them were dead. One of the monsters, a married resemblance of beast and raven, emerged to greet them, its body hideous of wounds both old and new in its inky jet of feathers. With an inhuman screech, the monstrous raven hurled itself with terrible speed.

"Engage!" A blue jay legionnaire, Javin, bellowed out a cry of command. Gone was his pistol, he unsheathed a blade from the scabbard and swung it that was near striking distance. His weapon landed, but the raven blocked the blow, its plumed feathery arm too dense to shear through meat and bone.

Before Javin could even hope to react, what came next set him plucked out from his feet. Like the force of a cannon blast, the raven slammed its wing on the jay's chest, striking him home that reeled the legionnaire off into the air. He then crashed at the side of the wall, sliding back down that laid flat on the ground, unconscious in an instant.

Grimwald stared at the blue jay then back at the raven, already eyeing on him with its purplish glare. The cardinal trembled, almost wanting to flee the minute he saw the monster. He could hear panic off to the left as the other cardinal, Gardin, hurried in haste with reloading his pistol.

The raven cocked its head like a dog, not at Gardin, but at Grimwald. It stared and growled furiously at him, holding that detestable thing. The wound from earlier stung in its shoulder that reeked a strange mixture of burnt flesh and a black powdery substance. The smell was an unpleasant comfort, and it struggled to breathe from the toxic fumes. Within a fraction, the decision was made clear to the soldiers as the monster had chosen its next target.

All colour had fallen from Gardin's face. "Hold it off!" he uttered, hands shaking, his fingers struggling to place the iron round onto the barrel. "Don't let it get too close."

Glancing at the cardinal and then back at the raven monster, Grimwald mouthed a curse. It was not like he had a choice. If he turned away, he would be shot for cowardice, and if he did not, death would be almost inevitable. A quick death or a slow one? Both options were not in his favour.

Unable to make the decision, the raven did it for him. He came face to face of the moving raven. Its speed was phenomenal, almost a complete blur. The only reason that he was able to escape its clutching claws were its eyes, shining, glaring by the torchlight like gemstone orbs. He quickly looked away, unable to stare at them any longer.

The raven glimpsed at the soldier, glimpsed at the drawn blade that came upon its neck. With inhuman reflex, it slithered, eluding the cardinal's first swing then several times more. It could tell that the soldier was angry, irritated that he could not land a hit. A flicker of amusement shone in its eyes, but the time for fun had been long enough. It ducked, its head lowered that avoid inches close from the swing of his blade. With its clawed foot contracted, the raven sprang forward that struck home on the cardinal's chest.

Grimwald grunted, and an 'oof' sound escaped from his lips, tasting the unnatural force of the monster's blow. Vision blurred, he came close to blacking out, but the mere thought of his death and the death of his comrades kept this from happening. With a roar of defiance, he jerked his weapon straight for the creature's heart. Again, predictably, the raven sided with ease like a graceful dancer. Its devolved beaky teeth jawed wide open, and the soldier screamed as the monster dived deep to his forearm.

Pain flooded him, and Grimwald was forced to kneel. Pain riddled through him and at him like never before that he could feel something sinister sinking into his bloodstream. A cold chill crept into his heart as he mistakenly raised his head, looking straight at its dark, evil eyes that bore deep into his soul.

The raven stared back in return, head tilted, curious flickered for the briefest of moments. It then lifted the cardinal off into the air. With a terrible crunch of bones, Grimwald fell hard on the rugged ground, the unbelievable force of the raven rendered him out of commission.

As it released his arm to expose the appalling bitemarks ladened on Grimwald's flesh, the raven flexed its claws to make the final blow. It did not go any further when Javin burst from behind, and a blade kissed at the raven's back. He groggily woke from the sound and raised one of his eyes at the raven, its beak lifting and slamming the poor cardinal in a bone-crushing finale. He also noticed a moment of opportunity as the raven was exposed, vulnerable. His feet pushed on the pain to meet that chance.

The raven screeched out and staggered slightly, black ichor gushing out from the blade that went through its belly. Snarled, it swatted the bluejay aside, knocking him back down. It was that one moment of rage, of distraction, that the raven failed to notice the other cardinal soldier who had his pistol loaded in aim.

Coolly, one-eyed close, Gardin pulled the trigger. Sparks of fire burst from the barrel of the gun as metal sped and pecked the raven's heart, breaking it open like rotten fruit. It felt the death blow, squawked a soft plea of tone and fell backwards. Its massive weight collapsed part of the wall as piles of dirt and rock sunk the creature whole like a makeshift tomb.

Silence beckoned once more into these tunnels, their torches flickered a lowlight of flame that unveiled a partial scene of their skirmish. It not had been several minutes later that Javin pushed himself forcibly to his feet, the pain retching in his gut. He heard a pistol clunked from the ground as his eyes caught Gardin rushing to aid his fellow cardinal.

"How bad?" Javin asked, his voice echoed throughout the tunnel. He limped slowly, steadily, gazing down at Gardin and the injured cardinal, Grimwald. He winced, unable to take his eyes away from the body, broken and mangled with limbs bent in the wrong direction.

"Not good," Gardin said, his tone grim with assurance. "His body is a wreck. Arm chewed worse than the rest. It is a miracle that he is still breathing."

"So long as he keeps on breathing," Javin said rather pettishly. "Then that all its matters." He was made to continue when he felt something in his throat and spat a garble of blood.  Hazed with the sudden dizziness, he slumped down, leaning against the wall that caught Gardin's wary glance.

"You are hurt," Gardin said. His voice didn't weigh much a concern, but merely a statement of fact.  He rose. He was near within an arm-reach when Javin raised a hand, gesturing him to a halt.

"Don't be concerned about me, cardinal," he said, coughing up blood. "Keep focusing on one of yours. I'll be fine."

"B-but…"

"I said I'm fine," Javin repeated croaky, his last word emphasizing with sure finality to not need any assistance. He looked up and his eyes went hard. "Go and get the others. We'll need support from this mess."

Gardin did not move, features plastered a degree of sympathy, concerned for his state of health. "Are you sure?" He asked one more time.

Javin glared at him, but a bitter sigh escaped his breath. He had no patience for the cardinal's concern. "Just...go," he said finally. "You would do well be useful getting the others rather than watching us die in this blasted hole. I'll keep Grimwald safe."

Gardin was yet unconvinced, but his features slightly relaxed a bit, either capitulating or going along with the idea. Additionally, it would be useless to argue against a blue jay. There was simply no point to continue. Instead, he flipped the pistol, and Javin willingly grabbed the handle's grip with a nod of thanks.

Gardin stared at the blue jay a moment longer and whirled to pace for the upper ground.

As the cardinal faded from the scene, his torchlight dimmed and far from earshot range, Javin made a rude sound. "Cardinals," he said with a shake of the head.

Javin took his time to load the gun that was offered to him, repeating and checking the weapon's condition like he did a thousand times over. War was an uncertain outcome, and a soldier must take procedure in any situation. Otherwise, death would claim a brave man or a foolish one. And to Javin, he'd seen many fools perished in the line of service. Probably, admittedly, he was close to being one as well.

His eyes shifted wearily at the dead raven that was buried underneath the soil, its clawed, rotten feet exposed that Javin could not help but shudder at the sight of it. None had come to expect a foe that was as fierce and mad like that one. By comparison alone, it would put a red whoreson to shame and more.

He turned away from the creature, his face riddled with pain. Not physically, but mentally in spirit. His folly had almost cost a cardinal's life if not for his swift-second decision and Gardin's shot. Javin sighed, disgusted with himself for his failure, but there was wisdom in such defeat. Now he knew what to suspect in this strange, blighted land. A place where monsters dwelled one and all.

All was calm and quiet in the tunnel, and Javin stilled himself against the cold, dirty wall, eyes drawing to a close that welcome the blackness. 

Something stirred in the dark, something bright and blue that disturbed Javin's momentary solace. His eyes crept open, sight directing to the source where the raven had collapsed. There was a shimmer in the wall, faint, but eerily warm to look at. It felt almost peaceful, calming, and the pain that he experienced nearly seemed to fade away. Then a grim realization stung him like a knife through his heart.  He stiffened, fearful. The thing in the wall brought his full attention and his consternation.

Hand on the pistol's grip, Javin staggered to his feet, pain reeling by the bruises which fortuitously reminded him between truth and fabrication. That thing, whatever it was, was no saving grace. It was the stuff that every legionnaire must destroy. He arrowed forward, cautiously alert, wearily aware what stones of power meant for an ordinary being. A hand swept away the dust and dirt from the wall, and the light grew brighter, hotter, filling a portion of the tunnel in its despicable glow.

Javin leaned in close at the odd-looking mineral, smooth and refined in its texture of ethereal azure. Unknown energies tickled through the tip of his fingers as he could feel the warm radiance from it. He glared with immense abhorrence. Before the final strike was done, a jolt of power crackled from within the stone, and hurled Javin off from his feet, pushing him far between its distance.

Energies enveloped him like a slithering reptilian viper as Javin was unable to scream, his voice stolen by the magic stone. Within a heartbeat, Javin fell in silence.

By the amount of force, the azure stone then popped itself out from the wall and fell with a thump, rolling almost explicitly to its next destination. As it came to a halt, it tapped the arm of Cardinal Grimwald and power wreathed into him.