Hearthside was…a village. Not one that was particularly liked by the wandering lush but it was the one he found himself in. Though to be honest there wasn't a reason he could think of for being here aside from the reason he finds himself anywhere these days. Avoiding the return trip home. Anything beat walking through the threshold of the door to his home. The gaze of those that live there was too much to bear. Yet at the same time there was now a weird feeling of longing for home.

He couldn't bring himself to understand why this was. Was it what the scaled one was trying to preach to him, or maybe it was the meeting with the fellblood. It certainly couldn't have been the run in with the half dwarf. He picked his head off the bar counter. The tavern’s ale for some reason left an undesirable taste on his tongue. Something about it just didn't taste right. Placing what was owed on the counter he lackadaisically grabbed the wrapped long object beside him and left the establishment, leaving the practically untouched ale on the counter. 

As he walked the streets of Hearthside he found himself a relatively nice place on the ground that wasn't too dirty, nor was it too in the way. Just right, one might say. Carefully leaning the object against the wall of the nearby building Quincy sat down in a manner befitting a truly noble vagabond. Leaning his head back he stared into the bleak overcast evening sky. The heavens wanted to rain but seemed as if they were waiting for something. Maybe for just the right moment? Life had a sick sense of humor, and knowing life it'd decide to come down and he'd be drenched midway to his next destination.

Reaching into his breast pocket Quincy nonchalantly pulled out a witnessing and pressed it to his lips. Taking the smallest of sips. Yet even the wine he'd once thought delectable proved unsatisfactory to this day's palate. Could it be the Justicar that seemed to spoil her wine, perhaps it was the boy she called friend? What was it about today that saw no ale or wine fit his desires? Placing the wineskin back in his breast pocket his eyes closed shut. Perhaps it was the Uncaring? The least likely culprit? Quincy pulled the wrapped object closer and enjoyed the tranquility of the quiet evening streets. At least Hearthside had that going for it. 

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Raiders on the Storm

Participants: Two or more

Location: Dragon's Cradle (Hearthside)

Post Requirements: 5 posts per person, 200 words per post

Reward:

Non-Residents: +1 Renown

Residents: +2 Renown, 1 Mystical Archive Ticket (Mystical Archive Tickets are awarded per Player)



Description:

Hearthside is under attack by a large group of Storm Raiders, and you are needed to help fend off the attack. A group of 50 raiders, armed to the teeth, have stormed across the open fields and are now descending on the village. Their goal is to completely raze it to the ground. Locals have taken up arms and are doing their best to protect the village, but they need help.



Stand with those who call this place home and help by killing five master level raiders, giving them any skills or abilities you would like. Fighting is just one side of the help needed, however - as those who can't fight need protecting, as well as the newly constructed buildings which are the target of torches and fire pyres.



Dorn, the group's leader, is not with the initial raiding party, but has recently been spotted. The worry is that this may be the first of many groups prepared to attack. We must do everything we can to defend this place and not let it fall to the Storm Raiders.



Special Requirements: You must kill five Storm Raiders in defense of Hearthside. These enemies are considered Master level threats and the skills and abilities you select must be roleplayed accordingly.

While most of Hearthside was calm and quiet, a stark contrast from the way it was no so long ago when it was still being constructed in the wake of earthquakes and a volcano literally exploding into a giant dragon, a small area on the other side of the town was still as noisy as it had always been.

Dwarves hammered away, shaping hot iron into tools and weapons before dipping them in water to cool them back down. Others ran around lugging finished products and raw materials to and from anvils, throwing coal into the forges to keep them hot, and heading off to deliver finished products to their intended destinations.

Blue was just walking out of the area, a crate of hammers and nails in their arms. They'd spent plenty of time in Hearthside now. As a member of Dragon's Cradle's nobility and an aspiring knight, they were a regular visitor there to help things run. Paperwork or any kind of management position was not their area of expertise, or in their area of any kind of ability at all really, so they mostly helped carry things or patrol. They were known for being strong and a capable fighter, Lord Wolfe. Even already in a heavy suit of armor, the crate seemed like no problem at all to carry.

Their footsteps clanked loudly as they walked, but even that noise was slowly being drowned out by a rumble that was slowly picking up. Blue stopped and looked around, thinking there might be yet another earthquake, but this sound was a bit different. It sounded like it was coming from one direction.

That rumbling. Earthquake maybe? If it in fact was an earthquake he'd need to find a better place to be then here. Yet, there was something more to it, something off. His brow furrowed as he tried to make heads or tails of the situation. Did earthquakes typically come from a single direction? No. This was definitely different. Finally opening his eyes he stood up, grabbed the wrapped object, and began inquisitively walking toward the sound. He would miss that quiet patch of ground, it wasn't easy to find. As he made his way closer the sound only grew louder until he heard a blood curdling cry.

“Raiders!” The voice said. “To arms!” Said another. “Get the children to…” “The weapons are…” “Everyone get…” “Our homes!” “Where's my…”

The quiet he only moments ago reveled in quickly became a cacophony of voices. Spears were handed out left and right. One didn't need a well trained eye to tell that some of their Spearman hadn't hoisted a spear in a real battle before. The streets became a scene of chaotic order as those who couldn't be of use panicked to get out of the way of those that could. While those who could began to file in as best they could. Mother's gripping the arms of children to keep them close. Elderly trying their best not to get sucked into the vortex around them. 

Yet through all this there was a dark alley right at Quincy's back that appeared to be rather vacant. They had the situation under control. His hand's grip on the object he carried with him loosened. He didn't know them and they didn't know him, right? Besides he wasn't much of a fighter these days anyways. His back slowly fell into the shadows of the alley. With all the confusion the real question was who would know?

As the shade fully obscured him from view he watched. When the streets were clear enough he could make his way out of town just in case Hearthside was on the losing end. His father had already lost a wife and there was no reason he had to lose a son too. A pit formed in his stomach. He would elect to ignore it. Without so much as batting an eye he reached into his pocket and brought the wineskin to his lips. A grimace crept across his face as he forced one small swig. The wine tasted fouler than it had moments ago. Perhaps there would be better wine in the next village.

Blue dropped the crate on the ground and immediately ran toward the sound of the incoming raiders, maneuvering through the crowds of fleeing civilians trying to get to somewhere safe. The safest place they could go seemed to be the smithies that Blue had just come from. The purely brick and stone buildings couldn't be burnt down, unlike their homes. Guards urged the crowd to head to the smithies, though some people didn't listen and immediately ran into their house, slamming the door closed behind them. Panic could make people do some dangerous things.

But Blue wasn't panicking. The crowds were rushing in the opposite direction, forcing Blue to either risk harming people by forcing their way through, or to find a new path. Blue ducked into a dark alleyway between two buildings and glanced around, looking for a path to continue toward the incoming raiders, and spotted someone standing in the shade and drinking from a wineskin. Blue didn't recognize him at all. Was he new in town? He had some wrapped object at his side that looked like a weapon.

"Who are you? Are you a raider?" Blue asked, pointing a finger at him and taking a fighting stance. Their head turned though as they heard a distant scream in the direction they'd been headed. They gave the stranger one more glance, their face unreadable behind their helmet, and took off running down the alleyway, turning out of the other side and sprinting toward the incoming raiders.

The crowd had thinned to almost no one as nearly the entire town had already fled from the side the raiders were about to reach. Blue saw one raider lift a torch, poised to throw it onto the thatch roof of the nearest home, but he was suddenly knocked off his horse with a loud thunk as a blue bubble bounced off his face and launched itself at the raider next to him and then another one and a final one, also sending them all tumbling to the ground, before it popped.

The ground looked forward to see one knight in dark blue armor in a stance that suggested they had just thrown something for a moment before taking a pugilist's stance, fists raised and ready to fight.

---

Bouncing Bubble

This would only be a matter of time before things got just quiet enough for him to slip away. This wasn't his problem, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was by the Uncarings design. Towns are built and they're set ablaze. This was nothing new. Another sip from the wineskin trickled down his throat as he couldn't find the will to plainly swallow it. The taste was revolting to him at this point but why? He'd grabbed this wine not long ago and the taste was fine then. His thoughts drifted to the wine as he tried his best to distract himself from the chaos around him. 

Just then a man in a suit of armor made their way into the alley. It took only moments for the man to question Quincy's intentions. The idea of him being a raider? A look of irritation appeared on the lush's face. Him a raider? If he was a raider would he be tucked away drinking wine in an alley? Panic was obviously overriding that one's rational thinking. The grip on the wrapped object beside him tightened until finally the man in armor left to help the situation. 

As the man left Quincy's eyes rolled. Just a bit longer and he could just leave. He took stock of the scene before him one last time before making his way out. That's when he saw a boy maybe no older than fourteen. His padding barely fit and the spear was longer than he'd known what to do with. Surely someone would stop the child right? Much to his dismay not a single soul told that boy to go home. To die defending hearth and home was something some saw as an honor. Maybe for someone who had lived a fuller life than an average youth.

Making his way out of the alley Quincy began lightly jogging in the way he saw the boy go. The least he could do was give the youth some advice on how to better use the weapons in their hands. The search took only moments as he found the kid with a group of others that looked just as experienced. A raider was riding at them torch in hand and Quincy was confident in their chances. 

“Dig in! A spear trumps them on horseback!” He swiveled the object around so that the bigger top was now the bottom as he sprinted to make his way in front of the minutemen. Without a moment's hesitation Quincy's arm jutted out smacking the rider dead in his chest using every bit of the reach the long object allowed. The raider slammed onto the ground hard from the back of their mount, the wind being knocked out of them was now the least of their concerns. 

“Breath! Stand resolute! I know the spear feels heavy now but keep it aimed forward and stand firm! You can't lose against their mounted units!” His words left him before he could even think. What happened to not getting involved?

---

Titanic Reach

Blue was fighting raiders left and right, smacking them off of their horses with a swing of a whip-like tendril of blue slime, or a throw of another bouncing ball of ooze, but there was a whole army here. Many of the raiders managed to ride past the knight at the forefront and gallop down the streets of the town, but the other guardsmen and even a few braver civilians were out and ready to defend their home, spears at the ready.

Blue was confident these guys wouldn't be a threat to the ooze. They were powerful and had fought far more fearsome enemies than just some people on horseback. They dodged attacks from the horse riders, deflecting some with their own spear made of crystalline solidified blue ooze in their hand. What small wounds managed to get through their armor quickly regenerated on their own. They could handle themself just fine. Their concern was the rest of the town.

Another raider ran by with a torch reeled back in his hand and ready to throw at the nearest building. Blue stomped a foot in their direction and slime surged from the gaps in their metal boot, rapidly flowing toward the horse rider. In front of him, the slime rose up suddenly into a wall which the horse skidded into, unable to fully stop itself. The rider was sent flying forward, embedding into the wall, his torch snuffed out in the sticky slime.

---

Rubber Whip
Crimson Armament
Troll King's Heart
Wall of Ooze

To let the mind wander at a time like this felt like a sure fire way to find one's self in a shallow grave. So he could only allow himself to ask a question. How many were there? And with that he would have to be satisfied. Shifting his thought process to pure threat detection as his eyes began scanning the scene before him. A mounted rider approached, there was something about his grip on the reins. A little to the left? Aiming to ride him down, just what any Spearman could ask for. Quincy began inching away from the civilians to pull the rider away from them. If he was going to be hit that'd be fine, but the idea of any of them taking the brunt of it didn't sit well with him.

The timing of this needed to be perfect. One couldn't simply move out of the way and thrust it was about the timing. Too soon and he'd be able to redirect the horse in time, too late and there may be more of him on the ground than the rider. For just a moment time felt as if it was slowing down and his heart beat began to match the thundering of hooves rushing towards him. With a large exhale from his diaphragm his body lunged to the side barely dodging the blade of the rider as it glided just underneath his hyperextended arm. The wrapped object thrusting directly into the solar plexus of the rider with enough force to knock out a bull, or at least that's how it felt to his arm.

The rider's back met earth hard leaving them unconscious, perhaps worse. A fall like that could end the career of even some of the strongest riders. Though the likelihood of this rider being able to mount another raid like this wasn't his concern. The horse continued its stride past the group undeterred by the loss of its rider, or perhaps liberated. Again another thing that wasn't his concern. Quincy looked at the group of civilians and nodded to them as if to say “You've got this.” before taking off to make sense of this madness.

This had to be a kind of coordinated attack after all right? If that's the case, who's leading it? These were the paramount questions that mattered. As he pushed further into the town turned battlefield it almost felt as if there was a target on his back, as with each breath a new raider seemed to appear. With each mounted raider meeting the same end as the first, empty lungs and a grand view of the firmament itself. The object in his hand never missing its mark. Was this to be a war of attrition, or would whoever was at the helm show themselves sometime soon?

"Damnit."

A gruff voice was lost in the sounds of metal clanging and horses galloping. Far in the back, one man sat on the back of a black horse, his armor a step above the rest of the brigands. Quincy was correct in assuming there must be some leader to this assault, and that leader was hanging back to watch over their plan in action. However, there was clearly something wrong. There should have been fires by now, and less sounds of fighting.

The force he'd put together should have easily outmatched the guards and civilians stationed here in moments. It should have been barely a fight. So what was going on? How were they actually managing to hold off his attack? There must have been unforeseen circumstances.

Over the chaos of the battle, he spotted two individuals that stood out among the rest. One, a lone knight in full armor that was taking out one brigand after another. A strong warrior with some kind of magic. From his distance, it was hard to tell specifics. Perhaps some kind of water magic. In any case, he was a problem. He didn't expect someone this strong to be here to defend the village.

Two, there looked to be one individual that, while not being as much of a threat on his own as the other knight, he was very strong. He was using a spear to fend off quite a number of his brigands. What was worse though, was he was teaching the guards and civilians how to fend off his assault too. What he had planned to be helpless villagers were quickly becoming an actual threat. With their numbers and this small bit of teaching, they could actually assist in holding off his attack now.

The bandit leader clicked his tongue. This wasn't going as planned, and it was all the fault of these two fuckers. Looked like he would have to get involved and fix this. He snapped the reigns of his horse and began to charge forward, into the fray.

The nearby sounds were eclipsed by the pounding of his heart in his ears. This was all just so sudden. One moment he was working up the courage to finally confess his feelings to his sweetheart and then this. The raiders appeared out of nowhere and the next thing he knew he was on the front lines hold a spear for the first time in his life. If it wasn't for that weird man that reeked of alcohol he would have been trampled. 

“Another!” a familiar voice cried. He recognized it since the stranger left that man had taken it upon himself to act as some kind of commander. His grip tightened around the spear as another raider approached the young lad's group of amateurs. 

“Okay, gotta breathe, gotta stand firm,... and” What else did the stranger say? There wasn't time to remember. The lad hefted the spear in the direction of the raider along with his fellow villagers.

-

She'd never lifted a shield a day in her life and this was a hell of a day to be anyone's first. The ax in her dominant hand felt natural enough to compensate. Her husband had left to fight along with the rest leaving her with the kids and their parents. That didn't sit right in the pit of her stomach. She had seen a stranger in armor fighting for their home so why couldn't she? Besides, they'd promised to support each other through anything and this was no different from a drought, a flood, or the firmament raining down in her eyes. And who better than her to make sure that lunkhead made it home in one piece. At times he was rash, short sighted, and had problems focusing too much on one thing. 

Every muscle in her arm cried out as she held the shield up against a volley of arrows, but she would persist, rushing forward to meet her husband.

“What are you doing here!” His focus shifted from the raider before him to his leather bound shield hefting wife approaching them. Just as his focus did shift the raider saw his opportunity, his blade almost fated to meet the poor man's neck. Without hesitation the woman felt time slow to a crawl and the shield felt light. Within moments she'd sent herself flying shield first into the fool raider. Barely catching herself she stammered, the opening she granted was seized expertly as her husband shoved his spear deep into the raider.

“If that knight, a stranger, can fight, so can I.” Her voice thundered yet kept this odd calm to it that brought him a sense of relief.

“There's two. The knight and that odd drifter are both fighting.” His words carried a renewed resolve. Just having her near filled him with confidence but also further reminded him of what he was fighting for.