Trevor had gone to the tavern as usual after a day of, well, nothing. There had been nothing to do since the Undercity fell, well more importantly since his brothers had disbanded. He was not the only one with a rather despondent attitude after recent events. Many of the Undead walked the towns with a despondent look and meaningless fugue. He had tried his hand at selling mushrooms, making his way miles to the forest to collect them, but others had the same idea and was met with a rather hostile group of undead who had already picked the forest and were intent on having the next harvest for themselves.
Staring into his half full cup as he swirled it around before he took a long gulp and finished it in a single motion to his lips. Wiping the mucus spittle and drink from his lips with the cuff of his sleeve. As he waved to the waitress to get more a steely hand gripped his shoulders and a feathery voice said, “Here have this.” A slim Forsaken woman slid into the seat across from him.
Trevor tensed and caught the drink as it slid toward him, the motion spilling some of the contents onto the smooth table. “Mr. Sullivan and I would have a word.” The female Forsaken spoke with a grace unusual for their kind. Trevor began to get up and responded tersely, “I have to be going.” The hand on his should squeezed and pushed him back down. “Do not touch me.” Trevor barked grabbing the hand to remove it. Grasping the heavy hand to remove it. His boney hands grabbed at the steel gauntlet spinning his head, spittle flying from his decaying lips he was met the blue steel and his eyes met the symbol embellished upon it.
The skulls eyes seemed alive despite being made of steel. The words in his throat caught has he saw the crown embedded in the forehead of the skull with the number XIII and the sigil of the executors ran over the top of the skull as if a laurel denoting his rank. Trevor shrank back down on the bench, Mr. Sullivan removing the gauntlet from his shoulder and sliding beside him. The bench creaked and groaned in protest beneath the armor-clad executor. “We will just be a moment.” Mr. Sullivan said with a sigh as he sat down. The female Forsaken smirked with a mocking grin. “My name is Isabele, this is Executor Sullivan. You’re Trevor, correct?”
Trevor glanced to Mr. Sullivan at the mention of his introduction. “No need to answer, I already know it’s correct.” Said Isabele. Trevor looked back to Isabele glaring. “What do you want? I am only going about my business. I have no interest in your war or your ignominious obsession with that city.”
The robed figure spoke calmly while slowly exiting the small boat. His boots sinking into the wet mud of the shore as waded through the tow and flotsam washed onto the beach turning his verdant robes into a dark sea green. A cannon ball slammed into the ground in front of him sending sand and rocks flying. “Calvin, you grab the bags with the others. Amulius, return fire. I want them to think twice before sending men after us.”
Amulius nodded, flames engulfing his hands. The smell of rotting burned flesh filled the air before a massive fire ball flew towards the ship off the coast. The ball of flame contacted the port of the ship sending out wood and splinters. “Good enough for now.” The robed figure said as Calvin trudged through the debris on the shore with bags slung over his shoulder the other men close behind. Grabbing Amulius by the forearm for him to follow. “Come boy, your chance for revenge will come.”
“Run to the forest.” Calvin shouted. Another cannon ball slammed into the beach sending sand and rocks into the air knocking the robbed figure into the sand.
Calvin was yelling and dragging the robbed figure towards the tree line. “Get up you lazy bastard.” He could see his feet cutting divots through the sand and his verdant robes collecting sand. Shaking his head and throwing off Calvin’s hand. “Amulius, where is he?” The Forsaken in the verdant robes spoke in a daze. “The cannon ball hit him, now run you idiot.” Calvin pulled him by the shoulder towards the tree line.
He ran towards the trees still clutching Amulius forearm, his hand flopped lazily with each heavy step. He looked back at the beach he could make out Amulius broken skull in one of the eddies, water ebbing in and out of the empty eye sockets. He turned around and shook his head placing the arm into his robes and continued into the forest.