Nightmare Horizon

NIGHTMARE HORIZON OVERVIEW
The world is in a time of serenity and peace. No wars between the countries, the occasional dragon attack handled by adventurers...
But the peace the world lives in came at a price. Fresh but healing, a terrible wound has been left on the landscape.
There are horrors seared into everyone's memories from a world shattering event dubbed in the history books "the Demon Crisis".

A powerful Demon Lord named Abraxas, with the help of an old forgotten cult named The Chosen, broke into the mortal plane and was a hair's width from claiming all life for his own.
Luckily, a group of heroes (That's us! or your character could join the heroes, leaving this vague and open ended for that reason...) intercepted the Demon Lord, and fought him where he entered the mortal plane on Dragonteeth mountain.
The fight was written and song in epics across every continent, however there were casualties.

The Chosen were stopped and Abraxas was slain, but the fight left a wartorn scar around the bones of the dead demon, simply called "The Scar" where hell itself scorched the mountainside.
It's been a few years, and some of the heroes have gone back to normal life.
But the threat of The Chosen is still out there and only growing in the shadows.


Cool dawn air nipped at Ilias's skin. The tent he bought from town offered little protection from Dragonteeth mountain weather. Still, it kept the fresh falling snow off of him through the night. 'Always find the silver lining.'

Stepping out into the fresh powder, Ilias looked out to the landscape. In stark contrast to the current weather, down the mountain he could see the cracked black and red trail, still searing hot from the hellfires that never extinguish. The Scar must be at least 3 miles long and wide enough to march through an army. Brushing his bangs out of his eyes, Ilias got to work dismantling his tent. He knew he had a day of walking ahead of him...

It was mid afternoon when Ilias reached The Scar. The snow was still falling, but the heat radiating from the earth melted the snow before it reached the ground. Ground cracked with each footstep with an undesirable 'crunch'. Ilias kept a hand on his blade, eyes scanning his surroundings for movement. Aside from the bonefires burning every few feet apart, he was alone. Ilias knew he was being overcautious. Not even wildlife dared to enter the desecrated path.

There was a knot of tension winding in his chest. Ilias read about the evil energy having an effect like that. Trying to calm his nerves as he searched, he began to whistle. It was a simple tune, a country song, but it was enough to halt the twisting knot. Whistling was something Jax did whenever Ilias and him were in a potentially deadly situation. If it was a tune Ilias knew, he would join in until Jax's song switched. It never failed to bring him peace of mind.

The memory brought Ilias's wandering mind back to the task at hand, the reason he was at the scar, finding Jax or more about the hell worshiping cult no one knew much about. Before the "Demon Crisis", the Chosen were a long dead group who looked for ways to end the world. Whether the group who summoned Abraxas is the same following, he couldn't say. Still. Perhaps they left clues, and with that rational Ilias continued to whistle, walk, watch, and wait.

Crimson was chaseing his prey a Young buck, easy to catch if he wanted to but he was playing with it. The chase went on for another 30 minute's untill the deer burst out of the wood's into an a huge open area. Tireing of the chase he pounced upon the Buck and with a powerfull bite broke it's neck, Looking up from his dinner he see's a human walking along the Rend in the ground, It looked like a scare upon the earth.

Thor reached down to the ground, grabbed a handful of dirt, and rubbed his hands with it. The snow had made his hands wet and slippery, and just as he was nearing the Scar, he knew he needed to change that. It wasn't that the snow bothered him, no, it was merely an inconvenience to him. Years spent travelling throughout the northern parts of the Dragonteeth mountain range, searching for the Chosen, had made the cold weather part of him, it seemed. Ever since the Demon Crisis, Thor had searched throughout the mountain range for any signs of the Chosen, looking for more members of the cult who had destroyed his hometown. And finally, after all the years, he knew exactly where to look.

He saw the Scar coming into view. A great injury on the earth itself, it had yet to stop burning eternally since Abraxas had been beaten. Thor could feel the heat from the fires even from far away, and he loosened up his great bear cloak so he would cool off a little. He was nearing the spot he knew to look for. He heard a distant sound, a sound that sounded like a whistling of a tune, but he payed no attention to it. He had cultists to hunt.

He approached a vale at the base of Dragonteeth Mountain. It was small, but it was noticeable purely because he knew exactly what to look for. He took off his cloak. It would be difficult to fight with a heavy cloak on his back. He unsheathed Bloodgleam and Peacebreaker, and walked closer to the mountain. He saw a patchwork facade of a rock blocking an opening in the mountain. He ducked around it, and snuck in.

The cave was dark and hot, two things Thor liked the least about the world. But there were strange light orbs floating throughout the cave, as if lighting a path for those to walk in. He kept walking through the cave, ever alert about enemies. But it was eerily silent, except for a whistling sound that was growing louder as he kept silently walking through the cave. He kept going to the sound of the whistling, until he saw what was making the noise. He saw a man, tied up and surrounded by twenty figures. He was whistling the same tune that Thor had heard before he went into the cave, which was interesting to say the least. But what was more interesting was that the figures seemed to be in a sort of trance, as if they were possessed by something. He kept watching them, silent as can be, until his foot hit a rock.

The whistling stopped, and all eyes fell on Thor. He noticed the dark, red eyes of the twenty figures, and he knew they were no normal figures, but the ones he had been searching for. Thor readied his weapons.

(ooc: Im gonna make a bio for Jax )

Abruptly, Ilias stopped his whistling.
Minute cracks in the monastically scattered dirt outlined footprints, leading off towards the side of the scar.

Ilias changed directions and started jogging in the footprints direction.
'This may be my lucky break!' He thought with a grin. 'Jax's lucky song may have paid off...'

However, the spellsword slowed his pace as the footprints grew in number. Ilias counted well over a dozen unique footprints until they left The Scar. Keeping in the direction, the spellsword continued.

__________

The old elven tune was the only comfort Jax had at his disposal in the hands of the Chosen.
'Tied to ah stinkin pike at the center of ah stinkin ritual. Wouldn't be my choice o' death... Not like I git much say in the matter anyways.'
The binds of invisible magic wrapped around Jax where the ropes couldn't, locking his legs and back stiff as ice.

The sound of the cultists breathing and muttering their incantation kept Jax from hearing a set of light footsteps. Although surprised, Jax continued to whistle, raising a single eye to the mouth of the cavern room. The magical lights the Chosen left floating gave Jax a vague outline of an armed warrior, slinking in the shadows.
'Not Ilias, but he might do,' Jax noted to himself, lowering his gaze. He didn't want the warrior's position to be given away.

The alarming sound of stone overturning onto stone brought Jax's whistle to a halt. Profanity in Dwarven, Elven, and the few Draconic words he picked up from mountain-people songs flew through his head. The cultists stopped their chanting and lifted their hands.
As the warrior readied his two swords, the cultists readied their own. Summoned with their nasty spell-wagging fingers, translucent violet swords, battle axes, and bows appeared from thin air.

__________

Ilias stopped at a wide river valley near the base of the mountain. The trail went cold at the vale. Nothing but a mountain stream and a rockslide.
Stumped, Ilias sat down at one of the rocks, gripped the bridge of his nose, and squeezed his eyes tight in frustration. He was sure he was close...
When Ilias opened his eyes, his hand slid down to his side in astonishment.
Laying out of the snow in the rocks was a cloak, thick for mountain weather. Beside the cloak was an well hidden opening in the rock formation. Ilias crept into the formation and found a small cave underneath.
Ilias drew his longsword and held his breath as he stepped into the cave.

Thor cursed to himself. All the years hunting them, all to be wasted because of a stupid rock. He was a strong fighter, but there were too many for him to fight alone, especially in a small cave like this. He knew what he had to do. Since there was only one way to get to him from where the cultists were, he waited where he would have the best shot. The cultists, except for one standing by the prisoner, charged at him as one big wave. Just as he wanted. Thor waited, waiting for just the right time to strike. It came.

"FUS RO DAH!" Thor shouted. His voice erupted, sending a massive wave of air at the cultists, sending them back flying across the cavern. He knew what he had to do next. He sprinted over t the one cultist standing guard over the prisoner, and with a quick twirl, he dodged the cultist's magical sword and lopped off its head.

He noticed subtle blue rings around the prisoner vanishing before his eyes. Clever cultists, using magical and physical bindings on him. The now-beheaded cultists must have been the one who set them, which made sense why the bindings were vanishing. Thor had no time to get the physical ones, however.

"I don't know who you are, but it seems like you're better off with me than with the Chosen." Thor said. The prisoner simply shrugged in agreement. Thor heaved the prisoner over his shoulder, and began to get out of there as fast as he could. The cave wasn't too large, and he knew the way he came in, but the added weight wasn't helping them. He heard the sound of the Cultists recovering, and he heard them beginning to give chase to the two of them.

He saw a shadowy figure making its way into the cave, a sword raised. It didn't have the shape of a cultist though. Yet Thor was ready nonetheless.

"If you're not with the Cultists, I would recommend turning around and making your way out of here."