Brown is likely historical, but I'll leave images mostly to you all.
Anyway, UPDATE!
Even as the sound of steel and screaming echoed down from the dense woods, you offered a quiet prayer, though it was somewhat less specific than usual. A prayer in thanks, for your deliverance. A prayer for fortitude in this new place. And finally a prayer that, if your mission was not yet done, the Saints would speak to you again.
Before you even registered having completed your prayers to the Almighty, you had begun climbing the bank into the forest. Even if you did not join the battle yourself, you had to see what was going on, and if you could find some clue as to your new location. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw other footprints in the sandy soil, the shape implying that they had been running into the trees.
You entered the forest, and immediately realized that something was wrong. There was a buzzing at the edge of your mind, and you could taste the stench of decay worsened by damp.
"Jeanne!"
A voice called out from the back of your consciousness, and you strained to listen.
"Jeanne! What happened?" To your surprise and more than a little relief, the voice was familiar.
"Saint Michael?"
"Deus magnus, Jeanne! What happened? You were silent for days!" Saint Michael the Archangel was genuinely concerned? You would have been flattered, but you weren't sure if that was very pious.
"Days? It's been that long?"
"Unfortunately so, Jeanne." Said a softer voice, that of Saint Catherine. "Seven to be perfectly precise. And now we find you awake, and there's another trying to get in." A third voice decided to speak up.
"He's cold and everywhere and he isn't very nice," said Saint Margaret, the youngest of the three by far. "And he keeps reaching out to test the walls we've put up. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think the Devil himself was knocking on your… Does it count as a door if it's not physical?"
"Only if one imagines it to be a door, Margaret," Catherine said accommodatingly, "but even then, it's only useful for metaphor, and not-"
"Excusa, Catherine, but this is not the best time." Michael spoke up again. "Jeanne, if you're going towards a battle, I strongly recommend that you find some form of defense: a sword, a shield, I'm not terribly particular, but putting aside respect for the dead this once is a small price to pay for survival." It made sense, though it was somewhat distasteful.
"If I find one, then I'll put aside that revulsion." But only once, you didn't say.
"We heard that. Such oaths are admirable, but impractical."
Deciding to focus on finding your way, you hunted for the site of the battle. It was still going strong, and only grew more feverish as you came closer.
Then you found it.
In a large clearing, battle-cries rang out amongt the ringing of steel. Around twenty soldiers, clad in some form of greenish metal and white tabards, fought against a line of - were those walking corpses? They certainly appeared to be so. Each and every one was rotted, some bloated, some rail-thin. Water seemed to fall off of them in rivulets, their hair plastered to their heads.
One lay motionless only a few feet away. In its hands were a buckler, and a sword of similar make to the equipment of the soldiers in white tabards.
"The shield is worn, and wouldn't hold out against serious attacks, but it will do for now. The sword, on the other hand; fine craftsmanship, though I do not know the metal. I recommend taking both, though I imagine you would have done so anyway." Michael sounded almoust proud at the last part, though you could not be certain.
As you took the sword and shield, it was surprising how easily the blade fit your hand. The shield was lighter than you were used to, but it would have to do. Looking back to the battle, you saw the corpses breaking ranks, their charge broken as the soldiers launched a counterattack. You readied yourself to -
I͟ ̢S҉̘͔͉͖E͉͎E̲̼̤̖̥͙͠ ͅY͈͈O̜̫U̦͞ ͚̫̦̳̖͎͔͞A҉͙̹͙M̩̠͓͜I͇̟̻̞D̴͉̩̘̲S̗͇̱̲͜T̻̕ ̖T͚̜̠̲̯͕Ḫ͉̠̞͎̣E̳͈̘ ̨̜͍F͕̯̦̻A̶R̢̺͉T̺̠͕H̹̱͜ͅE̡͕S̴̙͕̣T͓̰̟̼ͅ ̤R̗͟E̺̗͠ͅA̢̦̝̱C͘H̡͉̠͎̬͇̮̪E͖̪̙͍̥̘Ş̦͔̩
A new voice battered your thoughts, driving everything from your mind but fear and doubt.
̴̼̝̣̺̺̤A͓̲ͅM̯̯͙̙̙̟̩O͎̦̤̹̺̯͎N̹̼̱G ̢A̝͎̦̳̺͖͠L̀L̛̩̯̼̮͈͍ͅ ̡̦̫T͎̺̮̼͚H̢̤̱͚ͅE͚̲̬̜̬͈ ̵͔̣͖̤̱WO̫̭͎̯͝R̢͚͈̲̰͈͍ͅL̖͓͈͚̮D̢̮̻̜,͍̭̀ ̜̰̝́YO̺̱̙̬̝̘̰͞U̪̘ ͉̭̀A̷͕R҉̺̣̙̩̮̼̼E̶̫͙̳̦̞̩ ͕̦A҉̻̞̝̫͇̪ ̯͘M̨̼̬̟͈͙Y̱̼ͅS̻̭T̢̗͓͉̹E͖̠R̭͉̲͚̳̦̬Y ̶̦̱͚̫̙̠I̟̖̫̟͔ ̝̲̲͍͇̹̭S̥Ȩ̦̺Ḙ̮̪͙͓͚͓K͈ ͢Ṭ̹̣̻͕̱̳O̷͉͚ ͔̞̬KN͈̝̦̙̬O͚̻W͙̪̱͇͇ͅ
You could barely hear the others trying to call to you. You could not answer. You could not breathe. You could not move.
B̻̙̞U̶̻̦̺͓ͅṮ͡ ̝̦̤F͎̲O̤̺̮͟R̥̠ ̩̯͉͘Ṇ͍̜O͙̼̯ͅW̡͚̯̭̙̜̗,̬̦̫͕̜͡ͅͅ ͍̫I̗͙̰̳̣͖̼ ͘LȨ͓̖̜̭̤̖A̵̭̤͇V̷̗E͘ ̛̖̤Y̹̥̩̝̳̗͜Ơ̮U̸̠̼ ̖̘̼͍͇͓́T̪O̷̘̣ ̜̗̹̝̤̺̱͘YO̷͓̙U͔͕̩̜̘ͅR̠̠̬̣͢ ̖͖̬̤P͍̼̩̯ͅA̶T͉H̛̝̹̳. ͚͎͕P͖̘̥͉̮̜̖E͔͖̹̕R̸͙̯̭͍̥̼̼H͏̮̘͓A͓͖̜̙̦̻P̜͕͇͢S҉͓̮ ̮͕̯̰͇͙̙Y̧͖͓̦̲̯̳̬O̧̫̠̭͓Ṵ̦̼̮̙ ̻̣̼̪̣S̛̩̠̲̻̻͎H̦̪͍͕A͢L͉̩͉L̶͉̱͎̮̹̩ͅ ̠̦͕̘O͙͍N̟̪͙̪͜E̵̟̲̪͓̜̺̪ ͇͙̜̻͎̮̝D͍̱̗̬A̯̗͚͕̗͢Y̛̯͇̦̖̠ ̨͈̹̜̫S̻͍̠E̝̱ͅE ̠͙̜̞̯͠T̬̠̠͎̹̻͕H͔͎̫͚͉̞̻E̙̰̩͔ͅ ̸G̣͎̱̼L̖̟͍̬O̥R̪Y̥ ̮̲O͝F̦ ͉͙N͔͕̟̲ͅ-̧̪̠
̦̩
And suddenly, it was gone. The world stopped shaking, and color returned to normal. You had fallen to the ground, and saw a rotted foot in front of you. Looking up, you saw on of the drenched dead leaning towards you, its dislocated jaw widening further as it began to breathe in…
But it was silenced by an arrow, flying from behind you into its maw. It was fletched with bristles of some strange plant, and the head, which had gone all the way through the monster's spine, resembled the corals that some nobles had so loved for jewelry. As it fell, you turned to catch a glimpse of your apparent savior, but only saw a pair of yellow eyes flash in the trees before disappearing.
After a moment, you gathered your bearings, and looked back to the battle. Or what had been a battle once. The soldiers were putting down the last remaining stragglers, though most of the corpses had seemingly fled. Seeing the tabards of the warriors more clearly, you saw the sigil of a red flame on each and every one; the dead as well as the living.
"They might be of help to you," you heard Catherine musing, "though you might want to approach standing tall."
As you stood, you heard voices from amongst the soldiers. They sounded vaguely English.
"Albedon!"
"Alive!"
"Havelock!"
"Here!"
"Branding! Branding?"
"Branding's over here, Captain. Not breathing."
One of them, his armor more ornate than the rest, walked to one side of the field.
"Damn. That's six in one day." The leader -for what else could he be? - sounded tired. "Given the numbers we were up against, it's a low price, but still…" You began to walk forward as he sighed. "Not looking forward to the report to Dunhelming. Arcanister will be even worse."
"Captain Thornby!"
You froze as you realized one of the soldiers was looking at you, shield up so that you could see the golden anchor emblazoned on the green metal.
"We have a stranger here!"
The captain, Thornby, turned to face you, his helm hiding all but his eyes.
"What brings you here, stranger? And why to this place, of all the little hells in this forsaken land?"
"Maybe they could be allies? They seem strong…" Margaret's voice didn't have much confidence.
Choose one:
[] Tell the truth. Your name, your position, and… well, your complete lack of knowledge as to your location or means of arrival.
[] A Partial Truth, perhaps. Your name, but some vague reason for your presence, and no mention of where you came from until you understand what is going on.
[] Better safe than sorry. Reveal as little as possible. You do not know these men and women, and they could easily be a threat as much as an ally.
[] Write in (optional)
INVENTORY UPDATE: CRACKED BUCKLER ACQUIRED (+5 to Defense), SEASTEEL ARMING SWORD ACQUIRED (+3? to Attack)
CONTACTS ACQUIRED: SAINTS MICHAEL, MARGARET, and CATHERINE
FACTION MET: ???
FACTION MET: ???
REPUTATION CHANGED TO: Curiosity in ???
And you all got
lucky. Feel glad that Voices was the lowest roll you got.