Feeling woozy, temperamental, and with the hilt of his cleaver clutched tight in hand, but still strapped to his back, Belial awaits Arbor's explanation. At his side, Cronn and Briar focus their interests on a greater threat; The crowd of village-dwelling patrons. All of whom seem to be awaiting some sort of command before they engage in what is- most certainly- an ambush. One which has long been thought out... and already at play. With little choice being offered, Briar removes his crossbow from a pocket holster and swiftly flicks a latch open just below the sight bridge. As he does so, both limbs at the front snap forward and the crossbow splits entirely down the middle, creating two identical short swords, with one still having the string attached. Cronn, following suit, draws his ax at the right, and a pistol at the left.
"I bring the likes of you into my business... my home, and this is how you repay my hospitality? Accusative statements portrayed as questions? You knew the truth before you even set foot in our safe haven." Arbor turns back towards the Nostrum, his upper lip now quivering with rage, and slams a fist against the map. "Your kind was never meant to find us here!" Stepping back and quickly raising a pistol of his own, he squeezes at the trigger, but before he has the chance to fire, Cronn's ax severs his arm from his body.
Immediately following Cronn's engagement, Belial unfastens the strap across his back and brings the cleaver down. Arbor's initial scream is cut short as the cleaver's teeth shred his collarbone and continue through his chest cavity. Only stopping as the wooden shaft knocks against the bar. Ripping it free, Belial cranks the handle, folding it parallel to the blade's spine, and converting the weapon into a violent, short-ranged instrument. Appalled by what has been done and enraged, all the same, the villagers shriek with beastly cries as they charge at the Nostrum. Those who take the lead being the most human of them, and those in the back standing at nearly twice the height, with tufts of thick hair traveling up the lengths of their arms, and some, even the face. With tables and chairs being knocked aside by the larger of the fiends, the trio dispatches the closest and smallest in a hasty manner, desperately fighting against the growing odds of being overwhelmed, as the largest get nearer and nearer. Acknowledging Belial's deteriorating state as the booze ravage his mind, Cronn fires rounds of Quicksilver into the horde at his own expense but keeps certain that not one bullet is wasted in the process. As Belial stumbles about, sloppily cutting his way through those that make it to him, and Cronn lessens the numbers from slightly afar, Briar takes it upon himself to find a way for them to escape the tavern. Thinking fast and sticking to what he knows best, he smashes a bottle and drenches both blades in the spill. With all four sides dripping wet, he proceeds to strike the flint plate of each with the other, setting both ablaze. With the largest of the beasts getting nearer, and in numbers far too great to manage in such conditions, Briar grips at the string of his crossbow and slings the attached blade at the wall of shelves behind the counter. Just before the blade will surely hit the wall, he yanks it away, running it as parallel as possible and shattering dozens of bottles in the process. As each burst open, the contents combust; Pouring onto wooden surfaces and splashing out towards the beasts. Just as the effort seems hopeless, the largest beasts recoil. Just the sight of such flames spontaneously appearing is enough to set them back.
"Head for the door!" Briar shouts to the others, motioning with the point of one blade. Cronn nods in response to the command and rushes past cowering giants with Belial right behind him. Once both are at the exit, Briar tugs at the string once again, having gotten the blade caught in the shelves' framework. With one hard pull, the blade comes free, and with it, two of the shelves. As they hit the ground, what bottles remained on them erupt and the beasts tremble. Rushing for the door himself, Briar is suddenly cut off by a whimpering giant, that fearfully crawls on all fours in an effort to avoid the flames now licking at the beams above. As its torso makes it outside, with the head still turned to look back at what chaos unfolds within, and Briar being in the midst, its body collapses. Briar starts towards the others once more, finding that Cronn had decapitated the beast in the middle of its escape as he runs across its back and out the door. "Help me move it out of the way!"
"I've got it." Extending his cleaver and walking through the beast's blood, Belial digs the teeth deep into its spinal column, using his weapon as leverage to drag the monster aside. Once he finishes in doing so, Briar pulls the door shut, rebuilds his crossbow, and uses the stock to knock out each window on either end of the porch. As the three step back to admire their work, the agonizing screams from within pierce their ears, but it doesn't take long for the creatures to wither. Becoming nothing more than pounds of ash and brittle bones.
Twang!
Turning harshly on their heals, weapons at the ready, they're met with the woeful face of Gregory, and the pail he had been given by Arbor, rolling against the stones at his heels. The beastly giant lacks all awareness of the men standing before him, as he watches all that he has seemingly ever known ascend in a cloud of black. Briar looks to the others for a moment, and they do the same in return. Uncertain curiosity compels them to wait, rather than strike him down where he stands. Tears form in the corners of his pearly eyes, mere moments before he drops to his knees and clutches at the sides of his head.
"I... only went to feed the birds. Arbor... oh... Arbor!" What little piece of humanity still lingers beneath the furry flesh grieves its losses and the ties it had to this place. Briar, Cronn, and Belial lower their weapons. As any Nostrum would know, a beast such as this out on its own is no threat. Time alone will consume it. Splitting off as evenly as they can, they walk a safe distance around Him; The soul resident of this ersatz village. "What other than a beast... could cause such a ravaging?" Ignoring his rambles as best they can, the three continue on their way. Gregory speaks once more upon seeing Belial with a bottle of the same beverage from the tavern, in hand, being sipped on. "What, but a beast, could indulge in the blood of man? What, but a beast? What, but my birds?"
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Nostrum: Tales of Valor
Werewolf*Completed Story* In the heart of an Old World that has been filled to the brim with unimaginable horrors, one of humanity's final forces has founded itself. Yet, the glory days are long gone. With only the guidance of those who have come before the...