If you are interested in joining, the OOC is located here.Sword of the Abandoned- Out of Character
The world was stained with blood.
Skies overhead were poisoned with black smoke, and the earth was bitterly scorched. The ocean itself seemed to have lain down to die. The water was deathly still, and was the same color as freshly spilled blood. There was this steam like smoke, making it hard to see, making it hard to focus. The entire world was filled with silence…but the screams…Oh, by the Gods… the screams were bone-chilling.
It was shortly after that the world faded to black.
Nienna sat straight up from her uncomfortable cot, her skin glistening with sweat. Her eyes darted around the room; it took a few seconds before the elf realized she was in the Barracks of Nor’s Castle, sleeping in her own bed. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and sighed deeply trying to overcome her pounding heart. “Damn nightmares…” She muttered softly.
Gripping the sheets for a moment, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood up. The cold stone underneath her feet was a welcomed sensation. Her entire body felt as if it has been burning. Quietly, the woman maneuvered past other guards and soldiers who were in their cots fast asleep. The Barrack itself was standard. It was nothing more than a big stone room lined up with beds, and cupboards. Each bed had a footlocker at the end of it, and in the middle of the room were wooden tables and chairs.
Nienna made her way to a large window located in the middle of the wall where her bed was pushed up against. Unlatching a lock on a dingy glass window, she pushed it open and it swung outward wide. A cold breeze from the ocean shore less than a mile off filled the room quickly. The elvish girl could see out towards the ocean in the clear moonlight sky from the stone walls of Nor’s glittering fortress. Her hands rested on either side of her jaw, and longingly she looked out towards the sea.
It was the fourth nightmare she had experienced this week. It always started from standing on the shore of a tranquil beach, to melting into some kind of horrific dream. But her fellow guardsmen tried to calm her by telling her it meant nothing.
The sound of the tides rolling over the ocean formed a melody that spread into the Guard’s Quarters, however that was not the only sound. Alongside the rhythmic water was loud snoring. Nienna looked over her should to glance at the two dozen other men sharing the large Barrack. All of them were soldiers and guards, like her, who shared this large room. There were in total maybe four other Garrisons spread out over Nor’s castle. The city was large and needed many men to defend it not only from outsiders, but from thieves and other scoundrels.
The elven girl smirked thinking about the game of poker she had won the other night by cheating, and she looked back out towards the ocean in the distance. She stared thoughtfully for a time, only turning around when she heard a large crash against the Barrack door.
She turned around to face it, her expression puzzled. Again, the door was powerfully slammed on. By that time many men had woken up. They were just as confused as she was. The slamming began to pick up speed, faster and strong. Cups lined up on a shelf full of dishware that had been leaning up against the wall began to clatter onto the floor. Nienna cocked her head to the side, unmoving so far, but jumped a bit when the door began to break open. At last the elf reacted, and raced towards her cot. She fell to her knees in front of her footlocker and pulled out a key attached to a chain around her neck. The other men began to stand up and run about, a few moving to hold the door closed with their body weight. Others started taking up weapons quickly. Someone was obviously trying to get inside.
Fumbling with the lock for a moment, she finally opened the large chest, digging around for her short sword and dagger. Where had she left her bow?
Nienna hard armed herself with the blades and spun around in time to see the door break wide open. And of all things, an Orc stormed into the room. The men swarmed it, but this Orc was not alone. An even more astonishing sight made its way through the narrow opening: a large group of Huine, otherwise known as dark elves. And in seconds the men and these elves engaged in a messy battle, Nienna not wasting time to lay waste to these horrible creatures.
The Castle was being stormed.
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Sword of the Abandoned- Revival
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Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Keikeiya on Sat Feb 06, 2010 5:52 pm
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Keikeiya - Member for 4 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Shiva on Sat Feb 06, 2010 8:21 pm
It was dark, unnervingly so. Cloud cover shrouded the entire city in shadow. Perfect for any thief, bandit, or assassin.
Fong had entered the bustling city yesterday, during one of his many travels. However, by the time he arrived, the city gates were closing for the night. He was going to stay for a few days before leaving the city once more. His flints were worn out, he required new ones. He needed more chicken eggs- his black eggs were short on hand and he had acquired a small vial of concentrated peppers that would make it an interesting projectile.
The Castle was silent, a sentinel guarding over the city as it slept. Well, that was usually how it was until tonight. As he watched from his hotel balcony, Fong noticed a ruckus coming from the castle. Fong himself couldn't sleep. Days of sleeping outdoors left him unadjusted to a cot bed the inn offered. He grabbed his belongings (for he had already paid for his room and could leave at once) and slowly scaled down the building. His rucksack was light, as were his weapons. His descent was fairly easy.
The streets were fairly difficult to navigate in the dark. However, the brief spans of moonlight brightened the streets enough that Fong had a good vision. At night, the city seemed menacing, claustrophobic, almost evil. Much unlike the outdoors, however intimidating it was at first. By the time he had finished contemplating the city and it's appearance, he had reached the castle. Sounds of battle rang off the walls. An attack!
Fong looked around. There were the wooden ladders used by some of the invaders to scale the wall. Perfectly planned, especially in the dark weather. He scowled, climbing the ladder. All the guards made their rounds at the castle, very few patrolled the city streets. It was no wonder they were able to penetrate the castle so easily. He kept low, rolling over the top and examining his position. His Hook Swords were drawn and ready. He noticed the attackers for the first time. Orcs and Dark Elves.... From this light, he decided that they were archers sent to provide a little covering fire. Well then, this must be remedied.
He silently moved behind them, flipping his hooks over so the dagger-like pommels faced skyward. He backstabbed two, then dragged them back. In the dark night, he was not noticed immediately. Even the keen senses of the elves and orcs were distracted by the battle and darkness. He tossed the slightly struggling bodies over the wall, and turned back. They were completely focused on aiming and drawing. Three left. He backstabbed another two. It was astonishingly lucky they were so evenly spaced out. He could drag one back and peripheral vision would barely be enough to notice the motion. However, the last Orc noticed the lack of firepower, and turned. By then, Fong had also tossed the wounded bodies over the wall. Snarling, it drew it's blade. Fong hissed. He did not want it to come to this. In a battle, an Orc was stronger than any human, if only a bit slower. The Orc brought it's curved blade down on Fong's hooks. The shock rattled through Fong, but he wrapped the hooks around the blade, and struggled with it. The Orc pulled his fist back and punched Fong in the face. Fong had barely turned to avoid a broken nose, and he stumbled back- the hooks were released from the lock. Rubbing his face, Fong, raised his hooks once more. He linked them together, and swung it at the advancing Orc. The extended range gave the swinging blade the length it needed.
The blade slashed through the Orc's gut, spilling them out. The Orc swayed for a few seconds, then toppled over. Fong got up, rubbing his bruised face furiously to prevent swelling. He peered over the wall, still rubbing. There were not many Orcs and Dark Elves, but with the element of surprise, they were fighting evenly against the guards as of present.
Fong slowly looked around. The torchlights gave a better view, and he saw another squad of archers on the opposite side. It would be too much work getting to them. They would notice him long before he reached them due to his positioning. He decided to help a different way. They had been firing on the barracks in hopes that they would break the ceiling and rain deadly barbed arrows into the barracks where the guards were sleeping. He slid up to the wall of the barrack. By now the fighting was in full swing- the guards had reached their weapons. He peered over, and saw that they were still fighting to control the barracks. He moved out to the rear, and planted his blades into the back of two Dark Elves, and quickly retreated.
This was going to be a long night.
§
Fong had entered the bustling city yesterday, during one of his many travels. However, by the time he arrived, the city gates were closing for the night. He was going to stay for a few days before leaving the city once more. His flints were worn out, he required new ones. He needed more chicken eggs- his black eggs were short on hand and he had acquired a small vial of concentrated peppers that would make it an interesting projectile.
The Castle was silent, a sentinel guarding over the city as it slept. Well, that was usually how it was until tonight. As he watched from his hotel balcony, Fong noticed a ruckus coming from the castle. Fong himself couldn't sleep. Days of sleeping outdoors left him unadjusted to a cot bed the inn offered. He grabbed his belongings (for he had already paid for his room and could leave at once) and slowly scaled down the building. His rucksack was light, as were his weapons. His descent was fairly easy.
The streets were fairly difficult to navigate in the dark. However, the brief spans of moonlight brightened the streets enough that Fong had a good vision. At night, the city seemed menacing, claustrophobic, almost evil. Much unlike the outdoors, however intimidating it was at first. By the time he had finished contemplating the city and it's appearance, he had reached the castle. Sounds of battle rang off the walls. An attack!
Fong looked around. There were the wooden ladders used by some of the invaders to scale the wall. Perfectly planned, especially in the dark weather. He scowled, climbing the ladder. All the guards made their rounds at the castle, very few patrolled the city streets. It was no wonder they were able to penetrate the castle so easily. He kept low, rolling over the top and examining his position. His Hook Swords were drawn and ready. He noticed the attackers for the first time. Orcs and Dark Elves.... From this light, he decided that they were archers sent to provide a little covering fire. Well then, this must be remedied.
He silently moved behind them, flipping his hooks over so the dagger-like pommels faced skyward. He backstabbed two, then dragged them back. In the dark night, he was not noticed immediately. Even the keen senses of the elves and orcs were distracted by the battle and darkness. He tossed the slightly struggling bodies over the wall, and turned back. They were completely focused on aiming and drawing. Three left. He backstabbed another two. It was astonishingly lucky they were so evenly spaced out. He could drag one back and peripheral vision would barely be enough to notice the motion. However, the last Orc noticed the lack of firepower, and turned. By then, Fong had also tossed the wounded bodies over the wall. Snarling, it drew it's blade. Fong hissed. He did not want it to come to this. In a battle, an Orc was stronger than any human, if only a bit slower. The Orc brought it's curved blade down on Fong's hooks. The shock rattled through Fong, but he wrapped the hooks around the blade, and struggled with it. The Orc pulled his fist back and punched Fong in the face. Fong had barely turned to avoid a broken nose, and he stumbled back- the hooks were released from the lock. Rubbing his face, Fong, raised his hooks once more. He linked them together, and swung it at the advancing Orc. The extended range gave the swinging blade the length it needed.
The blade slashed through the Orc's gut, spilling them out. The Orc swayed for a few seconds, then toppled over. Fong got up, rubbing his bruised face furiously to prevent swelling. He peered over the wall, still rubbing. There were not many Orcs and Dark Elves, but with the element of surprise, they were fighting evenly against the guards as of present.
Fong slowly looked around. The torchlights gave a better view, and he saw another squad of archers on the opposite side. It would be too much work getting to them. They would notice him long before he reached them due to his positioning. He decided to help a different way. They had been firing on the barracks in hopes that they would break the ceiling and rain deadly barbed arrows into the barracks where the guards were sleeping. He slid up to the wall of the barrack. By now the fighting was in full swing- the guards had reached their weapons. He peered over, and saw that they were still fighting to control the barracks. He moved out to the rear, and planted his blades into the back of two Dark Elves, and quickly retreated.
This was going to be a long night.
§
Blasted size limit.
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Shiva - Global Moderator
- Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Ghaarme on Sat Feb 06, 2010 10:26 pm
Oh, get a job as a guard for Castle Nor.
A quarrel was launched from the heavy arbalester and sent flying into the cloud-darkened sky.
It'll be easy, nothin' ever happens there. The pay's great too!
The bone-carved quarrel buried itself in the chest of a Huine, the force of the blow jolting it backwards and off of the edge of the wall. After a few seconds a low thunderous boom and a flash of orange could be seen from behind the wall, signalling that the round had exploded. The screams of the wounded confirmed the fiery blast's damage.
"My round white arse." Mel pulled up her hood and finished reloading the great crossbow before taking aim at yet another of the assailants. The dwarf's face was set into a tight scowl and she closed an eye, a dot of sweat beading on her temple. The pull of a trigger sent the next projectile in flight. Mel let out a short breath as her shot pierced the stone parapet instead of the orc she had been targetting a foot away. Hey, not everyone was perfect...but with her kind of power, there wasn't too much need to be perfect. A smile spread across her handsome features and a mental command sent activated the magic she had placed within the quarrel minutes prior.
The orc leaped jumped slightly as a stark white crossbow bolt embedded itself within a nearby rock outcropping with a sharp crack. She glanced up upon the circular roof of one of the higher castle spires to see a cloaked figure loading a crossbow. Unka bared her fangs in a fierce snarl and pointed the dwarf out to three nearby comrades that had just finished scaling the wall. Just as they were about to move the bolt exploded in a great blast of orange flames. The next thing she knew her body was falling, apparently blasted off of the castle wall. The orc saw the two other orcs dropping along side her, charred and screaming. She found there was no strength left in her body to scream. The last thing the orc knew was blackness. The Huine of the group and closest to the blast was plastered to the ground of the wall, armor cracked and glowing with heat.
"Aye! Ya damned darklings better not underestimate me...ah, nice." Mel noticed that the attacker's boarding ladder had been knocked off in the explosion. She sighed and charged another clutch of bolts with elemental energy. "Tha's the last time I listen to a gods-damned hobbit!" she screamed into the chill night air.
Her sight shifted to the west, toward a series of ranged units taking a toll on the Norian forces. The arbalester set on the easiest target of the squad, but there was no need. First two. Then four. The archers disappeared and finally a more human figure leaped into the fray, dispatching the final burly orc in short order. It seemed that the battle was waning much too quickly...what was the purpose?
No more ladders were being set up but that wasn't much of a godsend, as a sizeable amount of shock-troops had already breached the castle walls. The dwarven woman placed a gloved hand on the loaded bolt and forced even more magical power into it. After another minute, Mel scanned the ground far below to see that a small group had overrun a group of defenders. They were armed with polearms of some kind and appeared to be slightly better armed than most of the attackers. She smiled and took aim at the center of the elites, removing her hand from the ammunition to get a better grip on the weapon. Click.
The opaque bolt was sent whistling from the roof, thudding into the ground within their ranks. The orcs and huine's gazes shot upwards to catch a glimpse of their attacker, and were about to scatter before the bolt erupted into a massive geyser of crimson flames. The closest three were incinerated, leaving naught but ash and charred bones. The four huine that had managed to gain a couple feet of distance had their backs scorched terribly and burst into flames themselves. Crispy.
"Aye! Suck m' bolts ye damned freaks!" she was grinning now. It had been quite a while since the dwarf had seen a good skirmish.
Maybe a long night wouldn't be so bad?
A quarrel was launched from the heavy arbalester and sent flying into the cloud-darkened sky.
It'll be easy, nothin' ever happens there. The pay's great too!
The bone-carved quarrel buried itself in the chest of a Huine, the force of the blow jolting it backwards and off of the edge of the wall. After a few seconds a low thunderous boom and a flash of orange could be seen from behind the wall, signalling that the round had exploded. The screams of the wounded confirmed the fiery blast's damage.
"My round white arse." Mel pulled up her hood and finished reloading the great crossbow before taking aim at yet another of the assailants. The dwarf's face was set into a tight scowl and she closed an eye, a dot of sweat beading on her temple. The pull of a trigger sent the next projectile in flight. Mel let out a short breath as her shot pierced the stone parapet instead of the orc she had been targetting a foot away. Hey, not everyone was perfect...but with her kind of power, there wasn't too much need to be perfect. A smile spread across her handsome features and a mental command sent activated the magic she had placed within the quarrel minutes prior.
The orc leaped jumped slightly as a stark white crossbow bolt embedded itself within a nearby rock outcropping with a sharp crack. She glanced up upon the circular roof of one of the higher castle spires to see a cloaked figure loading a crossbow. Unka bared her fangs in a fierce snarl and pointed the dwarf out to three nearby comrades that had just finished scaling the wall. Just as they were about to move the bolt exploded in a great blast of orange flames. The next thing she knew her body was falling, apparently blasted off of the castle wall. The orc saw the two other orcs dropping along side her, charred and screaming. She found there was no strength left in her body to scream. The last thing the orc knew was blackness. The Huine of the group and closest to the blast was plastered to the ground of the wall, armor cracked and glowing with heat.
"Aye! Ya damned darklings better not underestimate me...ah, nice." Mel noticed that the attacker's boarding ladder had been knocked off in the explosion. She sighed and charged another clutch of bolts with elemental energy. "Tha's the last time I listen to a gods-damned hobbit!" she screamed into the chill night air.
Her sight shifted to the west, toward a series of ranged units taking a toll on the Norian forces. The arbalester set on the easiest target of the squad, but there was no need. First two. Then four. The archers disappeared and finally a more human figure leaped into the fray, dispatching the final burly orc in short order. It seemed that the battle was waning much too quickly...what was the purpose?
No more ladders were being set up but that wasn't much of a godsend, as a sizeable amount of shock-troops had already breached the castle walls. The dwarven woman placed a gloved hand on the loaded bolt and forced even more magical power into it. After another minute, Mel scanned the ground far below to see that a small group had overrun a group of defenders. They were armed with polearms of some kind and appeared to be slightly better armed than most of the attackers. She smiled and took aim at the center of the elites, removing her hand from the ammunition to get a better grip on the weapon. Click.
The opaque bolt was sent whistling from the roof, thudding into the ground within their ranks. The orcs and huine's gazes shot upwards to catch a glimpse of their attacker, and were about to scatter before the bolt erupted into a massive geyser of crimson flames. The closest three were incinerated, leaving naught but ash and charred bones. The four huine that had managed to gain a couple feet of distance had their backs scorched terribly and burst into flames themselves. Crispy.
"Aye! Suck m' bolts ye damned freaks!" she was grinning now. It had been quite a while since the dwarf had seen a good skirmish.
Maybe a long night wouldn't be so bad?
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Ghaarme - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Demon King Jace on Sun Feb 07, 2010 5:06 am
The darkness shrouded over Castle Nor like a thick fog. Torches could be seen glowing brightly, as if they were trying to fight back the all-consuming darkness. There were groups engaged in combat in different sections of the castle. And upon one of the taller towers, a lone figure sat watching it all unfold before him.
Venser was bored, he thought these invading forces could have made life a little more interesting. But they were being beaten back far too easily. Which was a good thing, but it was not as interesting.
Someone, a guard probably, was creating explosions to Venser's right. Incinerating and knocking back hordes of invaders. Who ever this was had no sense of subtly or style. As impressive as this display was, it was far too crude for Venser's liking. "Idiot probably needs the explosions to compensate for terrible aim."
Further away, where the castle torches were fewer. A lone figure, human possibly, was taking lives while trying to alert the enemy as little as possible. "What a nice contrast." Venser leaned forward and tried to analyze this mystery assailant more closely, but was having little luck. He couldn't see through the shroud of night. All he managed to see were some strangely shaped weapons when some light reflected off them. "What on earth are those? Venser had never seen those before and was intrigued.
His eyes flashed a darker blue as a sign of his boredom and irritation. "Should I interfere? Or should I continue observing as I have been? Venser pondered over this decision for nearly an entire minute before deciding that he would mess with the enemy a little.
He stood up slowly, balancing gracefully on the rooftop he had been sitting on. With a flourish he jumped off the rooftop and landed on the balcony below in a bowing position. A smile played across his lips as he stood, his eyes flashing a strange pale blue, as he thought about what kind of panic he would bestow upon the enemy. "Opening scene. Betrayal strikes the lower ranks." He focused his attention on an orc who was in the middle of it's group. He splayed his arms out in front of him as a blue aura enveloped his hands. The smile across Venser's face twisted sadistically when the orc he was focusing on yelled a ferocious battle-cry and buried it's axe in the chest of it's teammate. "That's right. You are surrounded by the enemy. It's only natural that you kill them all." The rest of the orc's group turned to face the unexpected traitor. The looks of utter confusion on their faces was hilarious, and it allowed the "traitorous" orc to slaughter another of it's teammates. Then a brawl broke out amongst the group, killing all but a single dark elf, who did the smarter thing and stood back as the rest of it's group slaughtered each other.
Venser cackled manically, "And now, end scene." The aura covering his hands flashed brightly and writhed like a living flame as Venser's manic laughter and the screams of a dark elf ripping at it's own skin filled the air.
Venser was bored, he thought these invading forces could have made life a little more interesting. But they were being beaten back far too easily. Which was a good thing, but it was not as interesting.
Someone, a guard probably, was creating explosions to Venser's right. Incinerating and knocking back hordes of invaders. Who ever this was had no sense of subtly or style. As impressive as this display was, it was far too crude for Venser's liking. "Idiot probably needs the explosions to compensate for terrible aim."
Further away, where the castle torches were fewer. A lone figure, human possibly, was taking lives while trying to alert the enemy as little as possible. "What a nice contrast." Venser leaned forward and tried to analyze this mystery assailant more closely, but was having little luck. He couldn't see through the shroud of night. All he managed to see were some strangely shaped weapons when some light reflected off them. "What on earth are those? Venser had never seen those before and was intrigued.
His eyes flashed a darker blue as a sign of his boredom and irritation. "Should I interfere? Or should I continue observing as I have been? Venser pondered over this decision for nearly an entire minute before deciding that he would mess with the enemy a little.
He stood up slowly, balancing gracefully on the rooftop he had been sitting on. With a flourish he jumped off the rooftop and landed on the balcony below in a bowing position. A smile played across his lips as he stood, his eyes flashing a strange pale blue, as he thought about what kind of panic he would bestow upon the enemy. "Opening scene. Betrayal strikes the lower ranks." He focused his attention on an orc who was in the middle of it's group. He splayed his arms out in front of him as a blue aura enveloped his hands. The smile across Venser's face twisted sadistically when the orc he was focusing on yelled a ferocious battle-cry and buried it's axe in the chest of it's teammate. "That's right. You are surrounded by the enemy. It's only natural that you kill them all." The rest of the orc's group turned to face the unexpected traitor. The looks of utter confusion on their faces was hilarious, and it allowed the "traitorous" orc to slaughter another of it's teammates. Then a brawl broke out amongst the group, killing all but a single dark elf, who did the smarter thing and stood back as the rest of it's group slaughtered each other.
Venser cackled manically, "And now, end scene." The aura covering his hands flashed brightly and writhed like a living flame as Venser's manic laughter and the screams of a dark elf ripping at it's own skin filled the air.
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Demon King Jace - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Keikeiya on Sun Feb 07, 2010 12:45 pm
“Belcoth! Naraca tishirath marue celat en latta!”
Nienna had locked swords with a rather strong Huine counterpart. As Elvish words spilled out of her mouth in an angry curse Nienna pushed her opponent backward. The short sword she carried in her right hand felt heavy compared to the light weight dagger she held in her left. Regaining its balance, the Huine moved forward and crudely thrust his blade outward towards Nienna. She spun left to avoid it, using the same moment to swing her short sword downward. It took a second for the Dark Elf skin to give way to the blade’s edge. The head hit the floor before the body did.
Standing straight up, Nienna took a quick look around her. The group of Huine that had broken into the Barrack were being finished off. There had been one other Orc besides the first brute that had broken down the reinforced door, but it too had been dispatched quickly. Her fellow guardsmen had done well to fend off the invaders, but the fact they had been wearing no armor and had been attacked in surprise did not bode well. Several human bodies lay next to those of the attackers. The elf forced herself to look away from her dead comrades. Sentimentalism had no place in her heart right now.
The sounds of explosive battle rang clearly from outside. No, literally. The sound of loud explosives broke through the noise of clanging swords and shouting every few moments. She took a wild guess that it was Mel. She was the only dwarf in the Nor militia, and the only dwarf Nienna had ever seen. It was probably because Durnag dwarves disliked leaving their mountain, but Mel seemed different, if not a little strange.
Nienna stepped over a corpse and quickly moved outside of the barrack. She nearly collided with a straggling Dark Elf who was off by himself. The Huine seemed surprised at first, but it was within seconds that Nienna thrust her short sword into its chest, using the dagger in her left hand to swing tactfully at its neck. The leather like skin tore open and black blood poured from its throat. Gripping tightly the handle of her sword, Nienna tore it from the Dark Elf’s torso in one swift movement. The creature clasped its neck tightly, crimson fluid spilling through its fingers. It fell to its knees, then when the rest of its body fell to the ground, it became still in seconds.
The elvish woman stood up, breathing deeply, but quietly. How many had she killed tonight? Her eyes darted around quickly, adjusting easily to the darkness. The forces seemed matched, with both people she didn’t recognize, and guards whom she did. But it was hard to focus on anything. The moon began peeking through the clouds and allowed some light to shine through. She looked down over herself to see the white shirt, which she wore to bed, stained in contrast with dark colored blood. The same crimson liquid embedded itself in the tan cloth pants she was wearing, which ended at her knees. She felt odd, bare foot without her equipment. It wasn’t a sensation she liked: being unprepared.
The Barracks were built into the fortress, but stood alone as its own building. Besides this, there an armory next to the Garrison, a grand library, an assembly hall, and the Kings castle itself. The entrances to these buildings were arranged in a semi circle around the courtyard, the castle entrance being in the middle. The courtyard was made of stone paths, outlined by a black steel rod fence which had several flowers and other plants growing from behind it. Behind the gardens, were the tall thick fortress walls, stairs on either side leading down to the foreyard. The gates which closed off the Castle from the rest of the city had been broken wide apart.
Standing there, Nienna took notice quickly of the archers mounting themselves on one side of the castle walls. She had stepped out of the way in time to avoid an arrow, and took cover behind a large oak tree which had been planted next to the barracks. She heard other men coming from the Garrison, who were not as lucky to avoid the projectile.
“Someone take those Gods damned things out!” Nienna called aloud to no one in particular.
Nienna had locked swords with a rather strong Huine counterpart. As Elvish words spilled out of her mouth in an angry curse Nienna pushed her opponent backward. The short sword she carried in her right hand felt heavy compared to the light weight dagger she held in her left. Regaining its balance, the Huine moved forward and crudely thrust his blade outward towards Nienna. She spun left to avoid it, using the same moment to swing her short sword downward. It took a second for the Dark Elf skin to give way to the blade’s edge. The head hit the floor before the body did.
Standing straight up, Nienna took a quick look around her. The group of Huine that had broken into the Barrack were being finished off. There had been one other Orc besides the first brute that had broken down the reinforced door, but it too had been dispatched quickly. Her fellow guardsmen had done well to fend off the invaders, but the fact they had been wearing no armor and had been attacked in surprise did not bode well. Several human bodies lay next to those of the attackers. The elf forced herself to look away from her dead comrades. Sentimentalism had no place in her heart right now.
The sounds of explosive battle rang clearly from outside. No, literally. The sound of loud explosives broke through the noise of clanging swords and shouting every few moments. She took a wild guess that it was Mel. She was the only dwarf in the Nor militia, and the only dwarf Nienna had ever seen. It was probably because Durnag dwarves disliked leaving their mountain, but Mel seemed different, if not a little strange.
Nienna stepped over a corpse and quickly moved outside of the barrack. She nearly collided with a straggling Dark Elf who was off by himself. The Huine seemed surprised at first, but it was within seconds that Nienna thrust her short sword into its chest, using the dagger in her left hand to swing tactfully at its neck. The leather like skin tore open and black blood poured from its throat. Gripping tightly the handle of her sword, Nienna tore it from the Dark Elf’s torso in one swift movement. The creature clasped its neck tightly, crimson fluid spilling through its fingers. It fell to its knees, then when the rest of its body fell to the ground, it became still in seconds.
The elvish woman stood up, breathing deeply, but quietly. How many had she killed tonight? Her eyes darted around quickly, adjusting easily to the darkness. The forces seemed matched, with both people she didn’t recognize, and guards whom she did. But it was hard to focus on anything. The moon began peeking through the clouds and allowed some light to shine through. She looked down over herself to see the white shirt, which she wore to bed, stained in contrast with dark colored blood. The same crimson liquid embedded itself in the tan cloth pants she was wearing, which ended at her knees. She felt odd, bare foot without her equipment. It wasn’t a sensation she liked: being unprepared.
The Barracks were built into the fortress, but stood alone as its own building. Besides this, there an armory next to the Garrison, a grand library, an assembly hall, and the Kings castle itself. The entrances to these buildings were arranged in a semi circle around the courtyard, the castle entrance being in the middle. The courtyard was made of stone paths, outlined by a black steel rod fence which had several flowers and other plants growing from behind it. Behind the gardens, were the tall thick fortress walls, stairs on either side leading down to the foreyard. The gates which closed off the Castle from the rest of the city had been broken wide apart.
Standing there, Nienna took notice quickly of the archers mounting themselves on one side of the castle walls. She had stepped out of the way in time to avoid an arrow, and took cover behind a large oak tree which had been planted next to the barracks. She heard other men coming from the Garrison, who were not as lucky to avoid the projectile.
“Someone take those Gods damned things out!” Nienna called aloud to no one in particular.
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Keikeiya - Member for 4 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Shiva on Sun Feb 07, 2010 1:46 pm
The ones storming the garrison were nearly finished. Few remained, after a confusion of slaughter from within the Orc and Huine ranks. Something happened there, be it a spy, mistake, or magic. There was nothing for him to do now. Dragging the body of one surviving and surprised Huine away and gutting him to death, he stepped away from the spray of blood to finally focus on the sounds of explosions. No projectile weapon at this moment would be able to combust by itself. Looking over, he saw flashes of what looked like crossbow bolts hit places around the barracks and explode violently. Powerful fire magic.
Fong decided to move away, keeping his anonymity status intact. Slowly moving back toward the walls where the landscaping was slightly higher, he observed the battlefield for a brief moment. Bright aura emanated from the rooftops as well as distinct maniacal laughter. He could not tell if that was friend or foe. Swearing was predominate among verbal exchanges during the fight, but a powerful cry in particular alerted him. "Someone take those Gods damned things out!" It was feminine, but Fong disregarded that and looked around. Closer to him were a rank of archers raining down arrow fire down onto the barracks. There must have been extra men aligned on the walls. Slowly, he scaled the castle walls, hugging the shadows and rolling onto the surface the same way he scaled the ladder to the top of the wall.
Crouched low to the ground, the shadows cast by the torchlight hid his form as he quickly saw that the line was rather long. They must have had some reinforcements on top from the main force after the previous archers disappeared. Some due to him of course. He had to act fast. Slowly, he gutted the first archer and dragged him back while his silent struggles were ceased by being thrown over the wall. The archers remained concentrated on firing their bows. He repeated the process, until he had about five more dead. Then one Huine turned in notice of the lack of fire power. Discovered once more.
It screamed, alerting others to Fong's presence. Fong tried to keep calm. Outnumbered against enemies that were either faster or stronger than him, the situation seemed grim. Some remained focused on firing arrows, confident the assassin would be taken out by their comrades. However, an assassin was not without his tricks.
Black eggs, as Fong mentioned earlier, were a tool he used in battle. With bandits and Malacay scouring the lands these days, Fong needed a tool to help him gain an advantage in battle. The black eggs were dark, therefore almost undetectable at night. As the semi-circle of archers surrounded him, blades drawn, Fong slowly reached behind his back and pulled a dull black egg shell. Overconfident as they were, if they knew any magic they did not use it.
Fong smashed the egg just as they started to lunge at him, and threw the contents at their eyes. Lucky for him, this particular egg contained ground glass shards. Right into the eyes and nose. Coughing and hacking, the archers stumbled back, blinded or incapacitated by the eggs. Fong took the initiative and gutted those closest to him and kicking another off the wall. As they started to stop rubbing their eyes, Fong dove over the wall, clinging to it but not scaling down it.
The archers stopped rubbing, and looked around. They saw their comrades dead, and another missing. The mysterious man had disappeared. They panicked, suspecting magic and grabbed a torch, scouring the wall for his presence. They found none. nervously, the placed the torch back and had a few lookouts posted for Fong.
At this point, Fong knew he could not go back expecting to rack up worthy assist. However, he had all the archers on guard. They lessened in firepower, taking their time to look around before taking their shots. Fong hung grimly to the wall, and began finding footholds to the side to escape. He found a portion of the wall that was a good enough distance away, and moved over the battlements behind a pile of crates. Leaning back on the crates, he took the time to catch his breath. He was beginning to tire already. Stealth took a lot more out of a person than straight on fighting. The only thing that had saved Fong was his intense thought process that allowed him to escape. Peering over the crates, he saw that the orcs and elves firing at the barracks had slowed down in their tempo, nervously looking around for the invisible assailant. Fong could not help but smile slightly- a bloodless half grin. If they were not taken care of first, Fong would have to wait until they resumed firing at their concentrated pace so he could get close and start taking them out.
This was going to be a very long night indeed.
§
Fong decided to move away, keeping his anonymity status intact. Slowly moving back toward the walls where the landscaping was slightly higher, he observed the battlefield for a brief moment. Bright aura emanated from the rooftops as well as distinct maniacal laughter. He could not tell if that was friend or foe. Swearing was predominate among verbal exchanges during the fight, but a powerful cry in particular alerted him. "Someone take those Gods damned things out!" It was feminine, but Fong disregarded that and looked around. Closer to him were a rank of archers raining down arrow fire down onto the barracks. There must have been extra men aligned on the walls. Slowly, he scaled the castle walls, hugging the shadows and rolling onto the surface the same way he scaled the ladder to the top of the wall.
Crouched low to the ground, the shadows cast by the torchlight hid his form as he quickly saw that the line was rather long. They must have had some reinforcements on top from the main force after the previous archers disappeared. Some due to him of course. He had to act fast. Slowly, he gutted the first archer and dragged him back while his silent struggles were ceased by being thrown over the wall. The archers remained concentrated on firing their bows. He repeated the process, until he had about five more dead. Then one Huine turned in notice of the lack of fire power. Discovered once more.
It screamed, alerting others to Fong's presence. Fong tried to keep calm. Outnumbered against enemies that were either faster or stronger than him, the situation seemed grim. Some remained focused on firing arrows, confident the assassin would be taken out by their comrades. However, an assassin was not without his tricks.
Black eggs, as Fong mentioned earlier, were a tool he used in battle. With bandits and Malacay scouring the lands these days, Fong needed a tool to help him gain an advantage in battle. The black eggs were dark, therefore almost undetectable at night. As the semi-circle of archers surrounded him, blades drawn, Fong slowly reached behind his back and pulled a dull black egg shell. Overconfident as they were, if they knew any magic they did not use it.
Fong smashed the egg just as they started to lunge at him, and threw the contents at their eyes. Lucky for him, this particular egg contained ground glass shards. Right into the eyes and nose. Coughing and hacking, the archers stumbled back, blinded or incapacitated by the eggs. Fong took the initiative and gutted those closest to him and kicking another off the wall. As they started to stop rubbing their eyes, Fong dove over the wall, clinging to it but not scaling down it.
The archers stopped rubbing, and looked around. They saw their comrades dead, and another missing. The mysterious man had disappeared. They panicked, suspecting magic and grabbed a torch, scouring the wall for his presence. They found none. nervously, the placed the torch back and had a few lookouts posted for Fong.
At this point, Fong knew he could not go back expecting to rack up worthy assist. However, he had all the archers on guard. They lessened in firepower, taking their time to look around before taking their shots. Fong hung grimly to the wall, and began finding footholds to the side to escape. He found a portion of the wall that was a good enough distance away, and moved over the battlements behind a pile of crates. Leaning back on the crates, he took the time to catch his breath. He was beginning to tire already. Stealth took a lot more out of a person than straight on fighting. The only thing that had saved Fong was his intense thought process that allowed him to escape. Peering over the crates, he saw that the orcs and elves firing at the barracks had slowed down in their tempo, nervously looking around for the invisible assailant. Fong could not help but smile slightly- a bloodless half grin. If they were not taken care of first, Fong would have to wait until they resumed firing at their concentrated pace so he could get close and start taking them out.
This was going to be a very long night indeed.
§
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Shiva - Global Moderator
- Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Ghaarme on Sun Feb 07, 2010 3:10 pm
Maniacal laughter caught her attention, coming from somewhere higher above but Mel had no time to investigate before a lyrical voice called out from the barracks. She peered down to see a tiny blonde figure set tight against a tree as makeshift cover.
“Someone take those Gods damned things out!”
Mel grinned and glanced about to see the aformentioned targets. She had a good memory, and it wasn't too hard to realize that was Nienna's lilting voice. A loud response issued from her throat.
"By yer command Lady Long Ears!" the smile in her voice could practically be heard.
Keen eyesight and dark-adjusted vision allowed the dwarven woman a clear view the huine and orcish archers, and of Fong's battle. To say the least, the man was quite impressive. She hooted and called out, applauding the young man for such effective tactics.
"Hell yeah! Stick it to 'em ya fiesty lil' thing!" Mel immediately shut up, realizing that her congratulations may very well reveal the assassin's position. Ooops.
A quick series of draws and snaps brought the next loaded round to bear, this time centered on the line of archers. Only a couple seconds of last minute corrections and aiming was needed before the quarrel jetted for it's wall-bound target; the head of a large orc in the center. The shot was dead on, the bolt burying itself halfway into the green skinned brute's eye. It took the beast a few moments to register what just happened before it began to fall over the ledge. Meltairnaroma took the opportunity to detonate the magically charged bolt. Not having quite as much energy as the last couple shots, the quarrel exploded in a more centralized area, but to good effect. The already dead orc's head burst in a shower of gore and the two closest huine were rocked off of the wall by the concussive aftermath of the blast. Both fell to the floor screaming like children. Pathetic.
After making sure that the last two targets were little more than crumpled heaps on the ground, Mel turned her brown-eyes gaze up to see a man in deeply colored blue robes. Another quarrel was fitted into the arbalester as she turned, a movement that came naturally to the sniper. The sight pointed at another huine archer who had resumed the ranged assault, holding little care for the companions he'd just lost. Turning to Venser, she assumed he was the one who had been giggling.
"Oi, Mr. Chuckles! You wanna crack some skulls," not taking her eyes off of the man, Mel shot the crossbow. The bolt ripped through the chest of yet another huine, dropping the creature, "or should I have all the fun?"
Aiming was for chumps and people who didn't know how to shoot. Bad aiming doesn't exist.
“Someone take those Gods damned things out!”
Mel grinned and glanced about to see the aformentioned targets. She had a good memory, and it wasn't too hard to realize that was Nienna's lilting voice. A loud response issued from her throat.
"By yer command Lady Long Ears!" the smile in her voice could practically be heard.
Keen eyesight and dark-adjusted vision allowed the dwarven woman a clear view the huine and orcish archers, and of Fong's battle. To say the least, the man was quite impressive. She hooted and called out, applauding the young man for such effective tactics.
"Hell yeah! Stick it to 'em ya fiesty lil' thing!" Mel immediately shut up, realizing that her congratulations may very well reveal the assassin's position. Ooops.
A quick series of draws and snaps brought the next loaded round to bear, this time centered on the line of archers. Only a couple seconds of last minute corrections and aiming was needed before the quarrel jetted for it's wall-bound target; the head of a large orc in the center. The shot was dead on, the bolt burying itself halfway into the green skinned brute's eye. It took the beast a few moments to register what just happened before it began to fall over the ledge. Meltairnaroma took the opportunity to detonate the magically charged bolt. Not having quite as much energy as the last couple shots, the quarrel exploded in a more centralized area, but to good effect. The already dead orc's head burst in a shower of gore and the two closest huine were rocked off of the wall by the concussive aftermath of the blast. Both fell to the floor screaming like children. Pathetic.
After making sure that the last two targets were little more than crumpled heaps on the ground, Mel turned her brown-eyes gaze up to see a man in deeply colored blue robes. Another quarrel was fitted into the arbalester as she turned, a movement that came naturally to the sniper. The sight pointed at another huine archer who had resumed the ranged assault, holding little care for the companions he'd just lost. Turning to Venser, she assumed he was the one who had been giggling.
"Oi, Mr. Chuckles! You wanna crack some skulls," not taking her eyes off of the man, Mel shot the crossbow. The bolt ripped through the chest of yet another huine, dropping the creature, "or should I have all the fun?"
Aiming was for chumps and people who didn't know how to shoot. Bad aiming doesn't exist.
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Ghaarme - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Orrin55 on Sun Feb 07, 2010 5:28 pm
"A lovely night to hunt." The words were soft, almost a whisper as Greyn dropped from the tree the elven woman was hiding at and fired. A small hiss rewarded the hunter with a strangled scream as his arrow found it's mark in a Huines throat. Already two other shafts found their marks as Greyn fired with uncanny precision and just as quickly as he fired he was gone. The mottled cloak, enhanced by the darkness, nearly coming to a life of it's own as it concealed the near invisible hunter.
Scrambing up the battlement Greyn quickly dragged an orc of the walls. A torch was thrust overhead as a Huine archer investigated, another prey to the hunter and the resulting scream brought him enough time to slid onto the battlements. In front of him a group peering over the edge in hopes of catching the mysterious assailant.
Greyn grinned at the chance he was given. The group of Orcs and Huines were to busy scanning the courtyard below to notice him. His fingers drew a small seed and positioned it between his index and thumb. a flick sent the small life spinning into the group and landed in the middle of the lot. "Life blooms." Greyn whispered, and with it the seed burst forth into a tree sending quite a few of his foes to fall to their death. The longbow sheathed, Greyn drw his blades instead and slid into the trees cover finishing off a staggering Orc with a thrust to the chest. Then he was back in his home, nestled in the comforting branches of his tree and planning his next move.
Scrambing up the battlement Greyn quickly dragged an orc of the walls. A torch was thrust overhead as a Huine archer investigated, another prey to the hunter and the resulting scream brought him enough time to slid onto the battlements. In front of him a group peering over the edge in hopes of catching the mysterious assailant.
Greyn grinned at the chance he was given. The group of Orcs and Huines were to busy scanning the courtyard below to notice him. His fingers drew a small seed and positioned it between his index and thumb. a flick sent the small life spinning into the group and landed in the middle of the lot. "Life blooms." Greyn whispered, and with it the seed burst forth into a tree sending quite a few of his foes to fall to their death. The longbow sheathed, Greyn drw his blades instead and slid into the trees cover finishing off a staggering Orc with a thrust to the chest. Then he was back in his home, nestled in the comforting branches of his tree and planning his next move.
Last edited by Orrin55 on Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Orrin55 - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Heartfelt_words on Sun Feb 07, 2010 6:13 pm
Something was happening at the castle.
Maylia had known it, sensed it before it even started. As the clouds had rolled past the moon, shrouding the world beneath in a silken blackness, she had closed her eyes to listen. As if on some grotesque cue--the night filled with the sound of death. A familiar sound to her ears after many a battle, after much dark blood spilled, so much sometimes she stared at her pale fingers in wonder at their lack of stain.
She was perched in the shadow of a balcony on one of the many rooftops of the civilian homes below the castle. Her large feathered wings seeming to glitter in the strange haunted half-light that managed after a while to press through the heavy cloud cover. On the wind came the shrieks and cries of fallen men, tiny specks of humanity flew from the walls of the castle, only to break into halves and pieces on the terrain below. Maylia watched with unsympathetic eyes. Though, she always looked that way. Blank and vacant--like a disgaurded seashell.
The wind rippled it's cool fingers through her feathers, making her spread them, welcoming the refreshing sensation. But--along with it--came the scent of blood. Her nose faintly twitched with displeasure, before returning to it's indifferent slate. Slowly, the battle began to slow as the attackers were pushed out and killed alike. The Castle seemed to be the victors--but that was no surprise to her. The attackers had been foolish--thinking surprise alone would save them. A dog barked in the distance--seeming strange on this otherwise solemn night. The village was asleep--save a few stragglers, save a few raided homes as the attackers fled, save a few weeping children, save one winged woman, perched and waiting for dawn to come again. For sleep to come again. waiting..for what. She did not know some nights--for what. Like a fallen angel she perched on the rooftop, wings spread and gleaming in the moonlight.
and she waited, for the night was long.
Maylia had known it, sensed it before it even started. As the clouds had rolled past the moon, shrouding the world beneath in a silken blackness, she had closed her eyes to listen. As if on some grotesque cue--the night filled with the sound of death. A familiar sound to her ears after many a battle, after much dark blood spilled, so much sometimes she stared at her pale fingers in wonder at their lack of stain.
She was perched in the shadow of a balcony on one of the many rooftops of the civilian homes below the castle. Her large feathered wings seeming to glitter in the strange haunted half-light that managed after a while to press through the heavy cloud cover. On the wind came the shrieks and cries of fallen men, tiny specks of humanity flew from the walls of the castle, only to break into halves and pieces on the terrain below. Maylia watched with unsympathetic eyes. Though, she always looked that way. Blank and vacant--like a disgaurded seashell.
The wind rippled it's cool fingers through her feathers, making her spread them, welcoming the refreshing sensation. But--along with it--came the scent of blood. Her nose faintly twitched with displeasure, before returning to it's indifferent slate. Slowly, the battle began to slow as the attackers were pushed out and killed alike. The Castle seemed to be the victors--but that was no surprise to her. The attackers had been foolish--thinking surprise alone would save them. A dog barked in the distance--seeming strange on this otherwise solemn night. The village was asleep--save a few stragglers, save a few raided homes as the attackers fled, save a few weeping children, save one winged woman, perched and waiting for dawn to come again. For sleep to come again. waiting..for what. She did not know some nights--for what. Like a fallen angel she perched on the rooftop, wings spread and gleaming in the moonlight.
and she waited, for the night was long.
"Writing is the only profession where no one considers you ridiculous if you earn no money."
Jules Renard
(1864 - 1910)
<---- click and they'll be cuuuuute. :D
Jules Renard
(1864 - 1910)
<---- click and they'll be cuuuuute. :D-
Heartfelt_words - Member for 4 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Demon King Jace on Sun Feb 07, 2010 6:29 pm
Venser's previous target had already died away from loss of blood. However, he soon found a new group of enemies to torment. Second scene. The enemy encounters a castle trap. His eyes flashed a bright ocean blue as he spread his power out over the entire group. What a shame. You shouldn't have stepped on that stone. Venser's laughter resumed as the entire group he was targeting, screamed like frightened children and collapsed, unconscious. That scene ended far too quickly.
The aura around his hands flickered and his laughter came to an end with a cough. Damn it... I got carried away. I put too much detail into those illusions... Venser closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and planned his next move. I could manage that... But for how long? He sighed. He needed something more for his plan to work. Something he didn't have. It was then he heard a cry for help. “Someone take those Gods damned things out!”
Pathetic... Looks like the curtains need to be closed sooner than I would've liked. He scanned the castle grounds once more. Searching for as many friendly forces as he could reach out to without using too much of his power. A few more would be nice. But I can only play this game with the pieces I'm given.
As he was making the necessary preparations, a loud, burly voice yelled at him. "Oi, Mr. Chuckles! You wanna crack some skulls, or should I have all the fun?" Venser looked down over the balcony's edge to see a crossbow wielding dwarf shoot a dark elf through the chest. He was genuinely surprised to learn it was a woman. He guessed differently from the voice.
He straightened himself out and looked down at the arrival, his eyes glowed a dim, pale blue as he cocked his head to one side. "Mr. Chuckles? It's been awhile since someone has referred to me in such a manner." He projected his whispering voice directly into the dwarf's mind. "However, now is not the time for me to argue with you about your vulgar way of speaking... and thinking, for that matter." He paused and took another look around the castle grounds. "Yes, that's for another day. But for now, I must unfortunately ask for your help with my plan. With this, we will win this fight." Venser severed the connection to the dwarf's mind with blink.
Perfect. Looks like I might be able to pull this off. Venser was about to try something he had never done before. Connecting to multiple minds at once, over a large area, so he could speak with them all. The aura around his hands reappeared and his eyes shone brilliantly as he threw his hands out to the sides with a flourish. Connection established.... This is harder than I predicted. I'll have to make it quick then.
His voice was a still a whisper but it was quieter than usual because he didn't have direct eye contact with any of these people. "To all the people that have joined this fight against the forces that would invade our home, listen closely to the sound of my voice. I am on your side and you can trust me. If I do not have your complete trust for these next few moments, it will not be our victory today." Venser struggled to maintain the connection to all these minds, he was going through energy faster than he could have possibly predicted. But still, he had to press on. "I'll give you the short version of this plan, so that you can easily understand how you contribute to our victory. I shall distract the enemy, possibly leaving them immobilized. While they are distracted I will need you to charge them and bring down righteous judgment upon our enemies. Don't hesitate for a second, for every second you waste is another second they defile our home with their mere presence. When you see the blue light cover the area, that is your chance to strike." He didn't want them to know he was low on energy, he didn't want to appear weak before all these people. His pride wouldn't allow him to do such a thing.
With a hard blink, Venser severed the connection. He took a few moments to regain his breath and some more strength. The aura around his hands spread like wildfire over his entire body as he begun to levitate a foot off the balcony. He felt his consciousness expand, his power flowing, completely unchecked, and yet so easy to tame, control, manipulate. Venser was ferocious in his joy, he had never been in this state before, and it was amazing.
His eyes flashed sky blue with joy as he cast his hands out, a wave of blue light spread out in every direction, widening as it went. The stage is set. Let's hope the cast can put on a good show before the curtain call.
The aura around his hands flickered and his laughter came to an end with a cough. Damn it... I got carried away. I put too much detail into those illusions... Venser closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and planned his next move. I could manage that... But for how long? He sighed. He needed something more for his plan to work. Something he didn't have. It was then he heard a cry for help. “Someone take those Gods damned things out!”
Pathetic... Looks like the curtains need to be closed sooner than I would've liked. He scanned the castle grounds once more. Searching for as many friendly forces as he could reach out to without using too much of his power. A few more would be nice. But I can only play this game with the pieces I'm given.
As he was making the necessary preparations, a loud, burly voice yelled at him. "Oi, Mr. Chuckles! You wanna crack some skulls, or should I have all the fun?" Venser looked down over the balcony's edge to see a crossbow wielding dwarf shoot a dark elf through the chest. He was genuinely surprised to learn it was a woman. He guessed differently from the voice.
He straightened himself out and looked down at the arrival, his eyes glowed a dim, pale blue as he cocked his head to one side. "Mr. Chuckles? It's been awhile since someone has referred to me in such a manner." He projected his whispering voice directly into the dwarf's mind. "However, now is not the time for me to argue with you about your vulgar way of speaking... and thinking, for that matter." He paused and took another look around the castle grounds. "Yes, that's for another day. But for now, I must unfortunately ask for your help with my plan. With this, we will win this fight." Venser severed the connection to the dwarf's mind with blink.
Perfect. Looks like I might be able to pull this off. Venser was about to try something he had never done before. Connecting to multiple minds at once, over a large area, so he could speak with them all. The aura around his hands reappeared and his eyes shone brilliantly as he threw his hands out to the sides with a flourish. Connection established.... This is harder than I predicted. I'll have to make it quick then.
His voice was a still a whisper but it was quieter than usual because he didn't have direct eye contact with any of these people. "To all the people that have joined this fight against the forces that would invade our home, listen closely to the sound of my voice. I am on your side and you can trust me. If I do not have your complete trust for these next few moments, it will not be our victory today." Venser struggled to maintain the connection to all these minds, he was going through energy faster than he could have possibly predicted. But still, he had to press on. "I'll give you the short version of this plan, so that you can easily understand how you contribute to our victory. I shall distract the enemy, possibly leaving them immobilized. While they are distracted I will need you to charge them and bring down righteous judgment upon our enemies. Don't hesitate for a second, for every second you waste is another second they defile our home with their mere presence. When you see the blue light cover the area, that is your chance to strike." He didn't want them to know he was low on energy, he didn't want to appear weak before all these people. His pride wouldn't allow him to do such a thing.
With a hard blink, Venser severed the connection. He took a few moments to regain his breath and some more strength. The aura around his hands spread like wildfire over his entire body as he begun to levitate a foot off the balcony. He felt his consciousness expand, his power flowing, completely unchecked, and yet so easy to tame, control, manipulate. Venser was ferocious in his joy, he had never been in this state before, and it was amazing.
His eyes flashed sky blue with joy as he cast his hands out, a wave of blue light spread out in every direction, widening as it went. The stage is set. Let's hope the cast can put on a good show before the curtain call.
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Demon King Jace - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Ghaarme on Sun Feb 07, 2010 8:07 pm
Instead of responding like a normal person as she had expected the freaky guy to do, the dark man cocked his head slightly and an alien influence washed over her mind. Mel almost panicked before realizing he was making no attempt to dominate her, only communicate. Venser's mentally projected voice was like running a length of cold steel along the brain, smooth and devoid of compassion.
"Mr. Chuckles? It's been awhile since someone has referred to me in such a manner. However, now is not the time for me to argue with you about your vulgar way of speaking... and thinking, for that matter." the mental whisper halted for a few moments as the two took the opportunity to survey the field of battle. "Yes, that's for another day. But for now, I must unfortunately ask for your help with my plan. With this, we will win this fight." with that, Venser's connection broke and Mel glared at him from under her hood.
"You ever, ever enter my conciousness without my permission again, I'll tear you're godsdamned throat out with a broken quarrel." her dwarvish accent was gone, only cold, blatant threat remained. A habit that only surfaced when Mel was truly angry. The young dwarf turned back to observe the tide of battle turn. What exactly was this guy planning? "So...whoever tha' hell ye are, what's the deal?" her question was answered a moment later when the echoes of Venser's mentally projected voice washed over the bulk of the forces.
At least she was expecting it this time. She drew five arrows into her hand and began charging them with the mystical fire.
"I'll give you the short version of this plan, so that you can easily understand how you contribute to our victory. I shall distract the enemy, possibly leaving them immobilized. While they are distracted I will need you to charge them and bring down righteous judgment upon our enemies. Don't hesitate for a second, for every second you waste is another second they defile our home with their mere presence. When you see the blue light cover the area, that is your chance to strike."
Ah, I gotcha. He may have been an insensitive freak, but e was a smart insesnitive freak.
The great crossbow was raised with relative ease and pointed at the furthest and largest group of hostiles her nightvision would permit. Out of the corner of her eye, Mel could see the mind mage aglow with azure flame. A smirk followed the assumption that this was her chance. Scores of the enemy troops froze, screamed, pissed themselves and sometimes even all three at once. The first enchanted bolt was loaded into place and fired a moment later with deadly speed. Accuraccy wasn't too much of a factor, considering the ammunition had been continuously imbued with fire energy over the course of the past two minutes. As soon as the first shot was airborne the next quarrel was already set into place. The bone crafted round thudded into the shoulder of a screaming huine at the center of a climbing-party, setting the female dark elf to spinning to the ground. The next thing one would see was an intense glare of crimson heat wreaking havoc among the group and blasting and burning the ladders off of the wall.
Four other large fire blasts erupted in a consecutive chain of great flaming orbs across the castle grounds.
Like a big necklace of Blood Pearls... the sniper thought absently. The battle, for the most part, was over. She heaved a great sigh and relaxed the grip on the arbalester. Her mana was totally drained, and to be honest the tough woman was exhausted.
"Nice work. I'm Mel. You?"
"Mr. Chuckles? It's been awhile since someone has referred to me in such a manner. However, now is not the time for me to argue with you about your vulgar way of speaking... and thinking, for that matter." the mental whisper halted for a few moments as the two took the opportunity to survey the field of battle. "Yes, that's for another day. But for now, I must unfortunately ask for your help with my plan. With this, we will win this fight." with that, Venser's connection broke and Mel glared at him from under her hood.
"You ever, ever enter my conciousness without my permission again, I'll tear you're godsdamned throat out with a broken quarrel." her dwarvish accent was gone, only cold, blatant threat remained. A habit that only surfaced when Mel was truly angry. The young dwarf turned back to observe the tide of battle turn. What exactly was this guy planning? "So...whoever tha' hell ye are, what's the deal?" her question was answered a moment later when the echoes of Venser's mentally projected voice washed over the bulk of the forces.
At least she was expecting it this time. She drew five arrows into her hand and began charging them with the mystical fire.
"I'll give you the short version of this plan, so that you can easily understand how you contribute to our victory. I shall distract the enemy, possibly leaving them immobilized. While they are distracted I will need you to charge them and bring down righteous judgment upon our enemies. Don't hesitate for a second, for every second you waste is another second they defile our home with their mere presence. When you see the blue light cover the area, that is your chance to strike."
Ah, I gotcha. He may have been an insensitive freak, but e was a smart insesnitive freak.
The great crossbow was raised with relative ease and pointed at the furthest and largest group of hostiles her nightvision would permit. Out of the corner of her eye, Mel could see the mind mage aglow with azure flame. A smirk followed the assumption that this was her chance. Scores of the enemy troops froze, screamed, pissed themselves and sometimes even all three at once. The first enchanted bolt was loaded into place and fired a moment later with deadly speed. Accuraccy wasn't too much of a factor, considering the ammunition had been continuously imbued with fire energy over the course of the past two minutes. As soon as the first shot was airborne the next quarrel was already set into place. The bone crafted round thudded into the shoulder of a screaming huine at the center of a climbing-party, setting the female dark elf to spinning to the ground. The next thing one would see was an intense glare of crimson heat wreaking havoc among the group and blasting and burning the ladders off of the wall.
Four other large fire blasts erupted in a consecutive chain of great flaming orbs across the castle grounds.
Like a big necklace of Blood Pearls... the sniper thought absently. The battle, for the most part, was over. She heaved a great sigh and relaxed the grip on the arbalester. Her mana was totally drained, and to be honest the tough woman was exhausted.
"Nice work. I'm Mel. You?"
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Ghaarme - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Keikeiya on Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:10 pm
Her call had been answered quickly. The forces showering down arrows upon those on the ground level of the courtyard had been taken out, and the firepower decreased. She stood up, only to be taken back when a strange man who had jumped down from the tree she had taken cover behind. But he didn’t linger there long. Nienna took a running start out into the courtyard, stopping to gut an Orc. She spun around to meet a Huine blade to blade. It was a matter of seconds before he too fell. But her concentration on the battle was broken by some strange whisper entering her mind.
For a moment she thought she was crazy, but soon after she became quite angry. Such a move was distracting and dangerous. Covering her ears she angrily yelled aloud, “Get the fuck out of my head! Dushana tri amara!” Nienna cursed loudly, ignoring whatever it was trying to communicate as she tried to put her focus back on defending herself.
For those few seconds she focused on nothing else but the battle. To her, Venser’s illusions were invisible, Mel's blasts were silent. To be in total serenity was dangerous as well, but effective for the time being. The few stragglers that made an attempt to attack were felled quickly and efficiently. And at last Nienna stopped to take a breath. Mel’s explosions were irritating, regardless of their power. However Nienna worried that the fire power would cause more damage than good. There would be no point in defending a Castle that was about to fall down.
The battle was indeed almost over. All sounds and sights faded back into her consciousness and she was suddenly away again. But while the elvish woman took a look around, she realized that it was all too perfect. It wasn’t a siege, she knew that much. So what was the purpose of this attack? Pressing her back against a large stone pillar she breathed in heavily and sighed, regaining composure for the time being.
For a moment she thought she was crazy, but soon after she became quite angry. Such a move was distracting and dangerous. Covering her ears she angrily yelled aloud, “Get the fuck out of my head! Dushana tri amara!” Nienna cursed loudly, ignoring whatever it was trying to communicate as she tried to put her focus back on defending herself.
For those few seconds she focused on nothing else but the battle. To her, Venser’s illusions were invisible, Mel's blasts were silent. To be in total serenity was dangerous as well, but effective for the time being. The few stragglers that made an attempt to attack were felled quickly and efficiently. And at last Nienna stopped to take a breath. Mel’s explosions were irritating, regardless of their power. However Nienna worried that the fire power would cause more damage than good. There would be no point in defending a Castle that was about to fall down.
The battle was indeed almost over. All sounds and sights faded back into her consciousness and she was suddenly away again. But while the elvish woman took a look around, she realized that it was all too perfect. It wasn’t a siege, she knew that much. So what was the purpose of this attack? Pressing her back against a large stone pillar she breathed in heavily and sighed, regaining composure for the time being.
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Keikeiya - Member for 4 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Shiva on Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:20 pm
Catching his breath only took a minute, as he slowly rolled into a crouched position behind the crates. It took him a moment to peer over, watching the invaders shoot arrows at the hidden soldiers. Before he could go in for another quick raid, a presence entered his mind. Immediately, Fong crouched back and cleared his mind into a tranquil plane that could not be pierced. Emotion and thought halted almost immediately, as he fell back into a daze. The presence grabbed at him, asking for his ears and not his mind.
Fong tentatively raised his awareness slightly, so he might hear what this presence had to say. Paying careful attention, he did not lower his guard until the presence had left his mind for a complete ten seconds. Looking over the wall, hidden by shadow, he saw a brilliant blue aura emanate from a single man. He must have been the one working the magic. The strength of his power was immense, but slow. Fong slowly got up, watching as the power hit the invaders like a rolling boulder would meet a tree. They staggered back, looking around wildly and some pulling out blades and swinging them at the air.
Then the explosions. An unknown force had hit the archers, causing massive combustions. The ladders burned and crumbled, while the shock waves hit Fong pretty hard. Stumbling back, he raised his Twin Hooks at the enemy. Distracted and immobilized. That was what the magician had told him. Possibly was the key word here, as one turned it's dazed stare on Fong and slowly shook the others. Some of the others paid no attention, hit by the defending forces as they rushed out of hiding. Fong raised his blades once more. It was a Huine, strong enough to resist the magic and notice Fong. It threw it's bow off the wall, and drew it's slim longsword. Fong had trouble identifying the Huine's gender, as it had androgynous features. It clashed with Fong, bringing it's blade down on Fong's crossed hooks. They traded glancing blows. The magic might have left the Huine slightly weakened, but it was still faster than Fong- who was merely a human. As explosions rang past them, he felt the heat rip past his face as the unknown guard rained magical hell down on the wall.
One particular blast sent Fong and the Huine into the far end of the wall, Fong crashing into a pile of crates. By then, the Huine was across from him, leaning on the battlements, and a wounded Orc had decided to join. Fong rolled away from the vertical slash down that would have cleaved him in half, and kicked at the Orc. The Orc stumbled back, tripping over the battlements and falling. The Huine took the advantage and butted Fong in the chest with it's long-hilted sword. Fong retreated a few steps, clutching at his chest. The Huine was much faster than Fong, catching up and elbowing Fong off the battlements.
Fong felt the air rush past his form as he scrabbled for a handhold desperately. Grabbing a loose stone, he held on. Amazingly, He retained his Hook Swords due to the nature of the hand guards that kept it on his hands. The Huine leered over the wall at him, picking up a rock. It whipped the stone at Fong with surprising speed, and Fong had to let go of the rock to avoid it punching through his unarmored body. He dropped a few feet and grabbed at another handhold. His arms screamed in protest.
Four other large fire blasts erupted in a consecutive chain of great flaming orbs across the castle grounds.
That in itself was enough to break part of the battlements, distracting the Huine. Looking down, Fong saw that he was fairly far from the ground. A drop would kill him. He did the only thing he could do, and started scaling back up the wall. The Huine regained composure, still under the side-effects of the magician's spell. Fong clutched the battlements tightly. With a final heave, he used one hand to push himself over the wall, grab the Huine by the collar, and toss it over the wall toward the castle grounds. Fong pulled himself up, over, and flat onto the wall, lying eagle-spread on the ground. He was extremely fatigued. Looking at his hands, he saw that the heat caused small burns, and at one point he tore his skin open when he was falling down the wall grabbing a handhold. Luckily, he suffered no flesh injuries save for a slash across his arm. He aided in the fight, but was that good enough for him to be treading on castle grounds?
No. It was not. Especially when it was dark and very few would see him. (He had not heard the Dwarven woman's encouraging shouts.) He would probably be considered a human invader in league with Malacay. That was the worst possibly situation. Slowly, he tried to struggle to his feet. He reached for the other side of the wall, contemplating if he would survive the fall and make it to town safely. He saw no such thing, especially when he was as tired as he was. He wouldn't make it a quarter of the way down the wall without falling and breaking his neck.
He slid back into a sitting position against the wall, nursing his cut arm. When morning comes, he might be branded a traitor. What a long night it was. He hoped morning would never come.
§
Fong tentatively raised his awareness slightly, so he might hear what this presence had to say. Paying careful attention, he did not lower his guard until the presence had left his mind for a complete ten seconds. Looking over the wall, hidden by shadow, he saw a brilliant blue aura emanate from a single man. He must have been the one working the magic. The strength of his power was immense, but slow. Fong slowly got up, watching as the power hit the invaders like a rolling boulder would meet a tree. They staggered back, looking around wildly and some pulling out blades and swinging them at the air.
Then the explosions. An unknown force had hit the archers, causing massive combustions. The ladders burned and crumbled, while the shock waves hit Fong pretty hard. Stumbling back, he raised his Twin Hooks at the enemy. Distracted and immobilized. That was what the magician had told him. Possibly was the key word here, as one turned it's dazed stare on Fong and slowly shook the others. Some of the others paid no attention, hit by the defending forces as they rushed out of hiding. Fong raised his blades once more. It was a Huine, strong enough to resist the magic and notice Fong. It threw it's bow off the wall, and drew it's slim longsword. Fong had trouble identifying the Huine's gender, as it had androgynous features. It clashed with Fong, bringing it's blade down on Fong's crossed hooks. They traded glancing blows. The magic might have left the Huine slightly weakened, but it was still faster than Fong- who was merely a human. As explosions rang past them, he felt the heat rip past his face as the unknown guard rained magical hell down on the wall.
One particular blast sent Fong and the Huine into the far end of the wall, Fong crashing into a pile of crates. By then, the Huine was across from him, leaning on the battlements, and a wounded Orc had decided to join. Fong rolled away from the vertical slash down that would have cleaved him in half, and kicked at the Orc. The Orc stumbled back, tripping over the battlements and falling. The Huine took the advantage and butted Fong in the chest with it's long-hilted sword. Fong retreated a few steps, clutching at his chest. The Huine was much faster than Fong, catching up and elbowing Fong off the battlements.
Fong felt the air rush past his form as he scrabbled for a handhold desperately. Grabbing a loose stone, he held on. Amazingly, He retained his Hook Swords due to the nature of the hand guards that kept it on his hands. The Huine leered over the wall at him, picking up a rock. It whipped the stone at Fong with surprising speed, and Fong had to let go of the rock to avoid it punching through his unarmored body. He dropped a few feet and grabbed at another handhold. His arms screamed in protest.
Four other large fire blasts erupted in a consecutive chain of great flaming orbs across the castle grounds.
That in itself was enough to break part of the battlements, distracting the Huine. Looking down, Fong saw that he was fairly far from the ground. A drop would kill him. He did the only thing he could do, and started scaling back up the wall. The Huine regained composure, still under the side-effects of the magician's spell. Fong clutched the battlements tightly. With a final heave, he used one hand to push himself over the wall, grab the Huine by the collar, and toss it over the wall toward the castle grounds. Fong pulled himself up, over, and flat onto the wall, lying eagle-spread on the ground. He was extremely fatigued. Looking at his hands, he saw that the heat caused small burns, and at one point he tore his skin open when he was falling down the wall grabbing a handhold. Luckily, he suffered no flesh injuries save for a slash across his arm. He aided in the fight, but was that good enough for him to be treading on castle grounds?
No. It was not. Especially when it was dark and very few would see him. (He had not heard the Dwarven woman's encouraging shouts.) He would probably be considered a human invader in league with Malacay. That was the worst possibly situation. Slowly, he tried to struggle to his feet. He reached for the other side of the wall, contemplating if he would survive the fall and make it to town safely. He saw no such thing, especially when he was as tired as he was. He wouldn't make it a quarter of the way down the wall without falling and breaking his neck.
He slid back into a sitting position against the wall, nursing his cut arm. When morning comes, he might be branded a traitor. What a long night it was. He hoped morning would never come.
§
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Shiva - Global Moderator
- Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Keikeiya on Mon Feb 08, 2010 8:05 pm
The sound of a deep horn echoed in the distance, shattering night.
It was soon after, that whatever remained of the Huine and Orcs began to retreat. Those defending the castle had done a decent job culling the invaders. However, the damage had been done to both sides. Because of the element of surprise the enemy had taken, there were several allied dead. The fortress had also taken a beating, but with time and some elbow grease it could be repaired. Nienna was already planning out in her head where the towers would be installed to prevent such an attack to happen again.
And at last, his lordship appeared. King Eraquen stood at the top of the steps near his palace, in thick robes which he probably wore to bed. Eraquen had been suppressed and hidden by his guards who insisted his safety until the attack had been silenced. The soft lines in his face and dirty stubble on his chin told a story of both anger and deep fear. But regardless, his entire aura rang out ‘nobility and honor’. Looking out over the scene of intense gore, his mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. He staggered foreword a step, stuttering for a moment. A bodyguard grasped his arm to help keep him from falling.
“What is it my lord?! Are the bodies too much? Should we get you back in—“
“What in bloody hell happened to the wall?!” Eraquen interrupted.
The guard stopped, furrowing his brow confused for a second before he caught what the King was looking at. Pieces of the stone walls had been blasted apart. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Kings and their castles…” He muttered.
Eraquen was surrounded by guards scurrying about. From time to time he and messenger would whisper back and forth, each time his expression becoming cold in thoughtful worry.
A breeze had picked up, blowing a strand of King Eraquen’s hair into his face. While he spoke with his guards, Nienna took a good look around, wiping her blades clean on the material of her pants. She stood several yards away now in the middle of the stone courtyard. A few of her fellow militia men approached her, and for a time they too inaudibly whispered back and forth in what seemed like an argument. If one was watching, it became apparent Nienna received a piece of bad news. She stopped talking for a few moments to rub her forehead in frustration, then spoke up loudly so that anyone in the courtyard for the time being could hear her.
“Alright men, break up into groups of 7 and start sweeping the area for any of those surviving bastards. Kill them on sight, end of story. Anything more…human bring back to me uninjured and alive. Larin, grab 3 others and see if you can find the general while you get reports from the other garrisons. Johnny, you take your men, grab some armor, and sweep the city. Amar, you do crowd control if need be. No funny stuff.”
The men were quiet and unmoving for a moment, unsure whether to take the orders or not. Nienna narrowed her eyes and yelled once more. “I said now! And Mel, get your dwarven arse down here! Bring your friend too.”
The men started to scurry, and Nienna let her face fall back to worry. She looked to Eraquen who was returning back to the castle. She would speak with him later.
For now, they needed to find any survivors.
It was soon after, that whatever remained of the Huine and Orcs began to retreat. Those defending the castle had done a decent job culling the invaders. However, the damage had been done to both sides. Because of the element of surprise the enemy had taken, there were several allied dead. The fortress had also taken a beating, but with time and some elbow grease it could be repaired. Nienna was already planning out in her head where the towers would be installed to prevent such an attack to happen again.
And at last, his lordship appeared. King Eraquen stood at the top of the steps near his palace, in thick robes which he probably wore to bed. Eraquen had been suppressed and hidden by his guards who insisted his safety until the attack had been silenced. The soft lines in his face and dirty stubble on his chin told a story of both anger and deep fear. But regardless, his entire aura rang out ‘nobility and honor’. Looking out over the scene of intense gore, his mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. He staggered foreword a step, stuttering for a moment. A bodyguard grasped his arm to help keep him from falling.
“What is it my lord?! Are the bodies too much? Should we get you back in—“
“What in bloody hell happened to the wall?!” Eraquen interrupted.
The guard stopped, furrowing his brow confused for a second before he caught what the King was looking at. Pieces of the stone walls had been blasted apart. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Kings and their castles…” He muttered.
Eraquen was surrounded by guards scurrying about. From time to time he and messenger would whisper back and forth, each time his expression becoming cold in thoughtful worry.
A breeze had picked up, blowing a strand of King Eraquen’s hair into his face. While he spoke with his guards, Nienna took a good look around, wiping her blades clean on the material of her pants. She stood several yards away now in the middle of the stone courtyard. A few of her fellow militia men approached her, and for a time they too inaudibly whispered back and forth in what seemed like an argument. If one was watching, it became apparent Nienna received a piece of bad news. She stopped talking for a few moments to rub her forehead in frustration, then spoke up loudly so that anyone in the courtyard for the time being could hear her.
“Alright men, break up into groups of 7 and start sweeping the area for any of those surviving bastards. Kill them on sight, end of story. Anything more…human bring back to me uninjured and alive. Larin, grab 3 others and see if you can find the general while you get reports from the other garrisons. Johnny, you take your men, grab some armor, and sweep the city. Amar, you do crowd control if need be. No funny stuff.”
The men were quiet and unmoving for a moment, unsure whether to take the orders or not. Nienna narrowed her eyes and yelled once more. “I said now! And Mel, get your dwarven arse down here! Bring your friend too.”
The men started to scurry, and Nienna let her face fall back to worry. She looked to Eraquen who was returning back to the castle. She would speak with him later.
For now, they needed to find any survivors.
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Keikeiya - Member for 4 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Ghaarme on Mon Feb 08, 2010 8:56 pm
Her grim smile and sense of satisfaction, as well as any response her newfound ally would have given were cut short by a loud bass yelling from below. The Ironthumbs dwarf winced slightly at being called out by name.
“I said now! And Mel, get your dwarven arse down here! Bring your friend too.”
Aye, aye. the only reason she wasn't griping was that, well...Nienna was about a century her senior. Quite odd considering their stark contrasts in appearance.
With a waving motion indicating Venser to follow, Mel hooked the arbalester onto her back with a short grunt and began to descend. One, two, three steps and the dwarf was granted a running start. She bounded off of the rounded cone roof and crossed a fifteen foot gap the the roof one level down. Clay shingles and plaster rattled as her stout form hit the crown of the shorter tower, and the sniper slid down the inclined edge for a few feet before making the next leap, this time towards a stone-carved window. Gloved fingers found purchase on the castle portal almost instantly and with this, Mel swung down the last fifteen feet to the ground level where all the hustle and bustle was.
A quick grunt escaped her full lips as she hit the ground in a roll, the dwarf immediately popped up near the nobleman and his entourage. One of the guardsmen's eyes widened as he looked at her and her crossbow, realizing the implications. He silently motioned for Mel to run away before the king had enough clarity of mind to realize that the explosive dwarf had caused most of the structural damage.
She took the hint and jogged over towards Nienna. Well, it was either I blast tha' baddies at the walls, or archers rain death upon ya. I was only reducin' casualties...and dwarven battlements would'a never crumbled so easily! These humans'er so cute, thinkin' that they know how to work stone! Without realizing it she had arrived at attention in front of her superior officer.
"Ya summoned me Cap'n Pointy Ears?" she smiled while addressing Nienna. She was the first Elf that Mel had ever spoken to, and the dwarf grew to view her as more of a friend than a co-worker. So much so that she almost never used Nienna's true name. "Ah, and meh friend here is tha' one who managed to paralyze tha enemy mass. I apologize for my..." Mel struggled to find the common word for it, as dwarves didn't see the problem with breaking things down for the sake of comrades, "disturbance? Eh, I think that's it anyway. I made a big boom eh?"
“I said now! And Mel, get your dwarven arse down here! Bring your friend too.”
Aye, aye. the only reason she wasn't griping was that, well...Nienna was about a century her senior. Quite odd considering their stark contrasts in appearance.
With a waving motion indicating Venser to follow, Mel hooked the arbalester onto her back with a short grunt and began to descend. One, two, three steps and the dwarf was granted a running start. She bounded off of the rounded cone roof and crossed a fifteen foot gap the the roof one level down. Clay shingles and plaster rattled as her stout form hit the crown of the shorter tower, and the sniper slid down the inclined edge for a few feet before making the next leap, this time towards a stone-carved window. Gloved fingers found purchase on the castle portal almost instantly and with this, Mel swung down the last fifteen feet to the ground level where all the hustle and bustle was.
A quick grunt escaped her full lips as she hit the ground in a roll, the dwarf immediately popped up near the nobleman and his entourage. One of the guardsmen's eyes widened as he looked at her and her crossbow, realizing the implications. He silently motioned for Mel to run away before the king had enough clarity of mind to realize that the explosive dwarf had caused most of the structural damage.
She took the hint and jogged over towards Nienna. Well, it was either I blast tha' baddies at the walls, or archers rain death upon ya. I was only reducin' casualties...and dwarven battlements would'a never crumbled so easily! These humans'er so cute, thinkin' that they know how to work stone! Without realizing it she had arrived at attention in front of her superior officer.
"Ya summoned me Cap'n Pointy Ears?" she smiled while addressing Nienna. She was the first Elf that Mel had ever spoken to, and the dwarf grew to view her as more of a friend than a co-worker. So much so that she almost never used Nienna's true name. "Ah, and meh friend here is tha' one who managed to paralyze tha enemy mass. I apologize for my..." Mel struggled to find the common word for it, as dwarves didn't see the problem with breaking things down for the sake of comrades, "disturbance? Eh, I think that's it anyway. I made a big boom eh?"
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Ghaarme - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Shiva on Mon Feb 08, 2010 10:23 pm
The sky was still dark, the clouds shrouding the stars. That did not prevent the light from the heavens from causing a ghastly glow from behind the clouds, which mesmerized Fong. He tried to stay awake. If he fell asleep, he would probably be counted as one of the dead and tossed into a crematory or ditch. There was a much better chance of staying awake. However, even that was difficult to do. His wounds required rest to heal, especially burns caused by the unknown magician's fire-bolts. Slowly, he tried to move, and examined his hands once more. The bleeding was beginning to stop, and the burns were beginning to hurt. Shock and adrenaline had numbed the pain, but it wore off. He was about to struggle to his feet and try to find a way out of the castle without being seen to rest and address his wounds before a voice met him.
"There! A survivor!" A harsh voice cried. They surrounded Fong, making escape impossible. "Damn, it's a human. Guess we gotta bring 'im back alive." Their eyes burned with hate for the invaders. He could not blame them. Their fallen comrades must have had bonds unfamiliar with Fong. He respected that, but he found it hard to deal with the behavior. They shoved him to his feet, believing he was in league with the invaders. Of course, with their human vision there was no way they would have seen him silently taking out archers and vanishing. In the confusion of battle, the chance of them spotting Fong conducting his operations would be even more ludicrous. They pushed him into the lead, guiding him along the wall to a safer staircase.
His weapons were taken from him, but his rucksack remained on his back. Too much work for them, he surmised. The castle grounds and wall were far different from what he saw when he first entered. Arrows peppered the ground and nature. The walls had chunks torn out due to magic and battle. Scorch marks could be seen on some of the pale rocks. The faint buzz of magic remained hanging in the air. He was given no chance to examine further, as he was pushed again once more.
"Yer lucky the Captain wants ye alive," one muttered, "Otherwise we would have gutted you on the spot." Fong wondered at this. Why would they want him alive? Because he was human? He found that rather racist. What more would a human know than a powerful Huine or brutish Orc? He turned his cool gaze on the man, but the effect was badly marred due to the glassy fatigue clear in his eyes. Once again, he was shoved to continue the forced march.
The Captain was much more different than what he expected. A female warrior was rare. A elven female warrior commanding a troop of men in a castle of humans was even rarer. He would have bowed in respect, but her men already had that set in mind. "She's talking to someone, whelp. Sit down respectfully until she's done. They shoved him down to his knees, a few yards away from the elven captain. Fong felt strong hands push him down, and he bent over in a sign of respect and the fact that he couldn't fight against so many arms pushing down on him at once.
Still, he had much to be grateful for. For once, his possessions in his bag had not been taken yet, his weapons were still in visible sight, and his life was still intact. It was going to be hard to keep that, though. He needed witnesses to testify about what he'd done, but he wasn't sure if there was anyone who'd testify for him. Especially in a militaristic setting like this. Groaning slightly as they began to push him past the limits of his flexibility, he received a hearty kick to the side. That was good. Otherwise he might have fallen asleep. The fiery pain in his kidneys will help him stay awake. He chuckled at the dark thought.
He noticed the dwarven woman for the first time. He had craned his neck painfully, but he saw that she was as strong as she looked capable. The arbolest crossbow looked nightmarish in her arms, despite how tired she looked. He was almost certain she was the one raining hellfire down on the wall due to the apologetic expression she had. Well, it wasn't really apologetic, but it was sort of a gut-feeling Fong had. Behind her, he could see the magician he saw at a distance with better resolution. He looked just as capable, but he had never heard of a human wizard before. He looked just as tired as everyone else, however.
The pain was beginning to dull. He did himself and the bored guard a favor and sighed. Another boot to the side. He felt like such a disgusting masochist. However, it was all he had to prevent him from drifting off. His personal morales dictated that he would not be seen being disrespectful in any way.
§
"There! A survivor!" A harsh voice cried. They surrounded Fong, making escape impossible. "Damn, it's a human. Guess we gotta bring 'im back alive." Their eyes burned with hate for the invaders. He could not blame them. Their fallen comrades must have had bonds unfamiliar with Fong. He respected that, but he found it hard to deal with the behavior. They shoved him to his feet, believing he was in league with the invaders. Of course, with their human vision there was no way they would have seen him silently taking out archers and vanishing. In the confusion of battle, the chance of them spotting Fong conducting his operations would be even more ludicrous. They pushed him into the lead, guiding him along the wall to a safer staircase.
His weapons were taken from him, but his rucksack remained on his back. Too much work for them, he surmised. The castle grounds and wall were far different from what he saw when he first entered. Arrows peppered the ground and nature. The walls had chunks torn out due to magic and battle. Scorch marks could be seen on some of the pale rocks. The faint buzz of magic remained hanging in the air. He was given no chance to examine further, as he was pushed again once more.
"Yer lucky the Captain wants ye alive," one muttered, "Otherwise we would have gutted you on the spot." Fong wondered at this. Why would they want him alive? Because he was human? He found that rather racist. What more would a human know than a powerful Huine or brutish Orc? He turned his cool gaze on the man, but the effect was badly marred due to the glassy fatigue clear in his eyes. Once again, he was shoved to continue the forced march.
The Captain was much more different than what he expected. A female warrior was rare. A elven female warrior commanding a troop of men in a castle of humans was even rarer. He would have bowed in respect, but her men already had that set in mind. "She's talking to someone, whelp. Sit down respectfully until she's done. They shoved him down to his knees, a few yards away from the elven captain. Fong felt strong hands push him down, and he bent over in a sign of respect and the fact that he couldn't fight against so many arms pushing down on him at once.
Still, he had much to be grateful for. For once, his possessions in his bag had not been taken yet, his weapons were still in visible sight, and his life was still intact. It was going to be hard to keep that, though. He needed witnesses to testify about what he'd done, but he wasn't sure if there was anyone who'd testify for him. Especially in a militaristic setting like this. Groaning slightly as they began to push him past the limits of his flexibility, he received a hearty kick to the side. That was good. Otherwise he might have fallen asleep. The fiery pain in his kidneys will help him stay awake. He chuckled at the dark thought.
He noticed the dwarven woman for the first time. He had craned his neck painfully, but he saw that she was as strong as she looked capable. The arbolest crossbow looked nightmarish in her arms, despite how tired she looked. He was almost certain she was the one raining hellfire down on the wall due to the apologetic expression she had. Well, it wasn't really apologetic, but it was sort of a gut-feeling Fong had. Behind her, he could see the magician he saw at a distance with better resolution. He looked just as capable, but he had never heard of a human wizard before. He looked just as tired as everyone else, however.
The pain was beginning to dull. He did himself and the bored guard a favor and sighed. Another boot to the side. He felt like such a disgusting masochist. However, it was all he had to prevent him from drifting off. His personal morales dictated that he would not be seen being disrespectful in any way.
§
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Shiva - Global Moderator
- Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Demon King Jace on Tue Feb 09, 2010 2:36 am
The battle was over and won. But, something didn't feel right about this incident. Venser had a suspicion that this was only the beginning of something bigger. Like the warm-up act before the main show.
However, Venser had little time to ponder these thoughts as the aura around him vanished and he fell onto the balcony, landing on his hands and knees, coughing violently. I used too much power, my body couldn't handle it. His eyes flash navy blue in anger at his body's physical weakness. He coughed up some blood. Venser's throat was weak, strenuous use of it would cause it to bleed. He got carried away with his laughter, and now the coughing wasn't helping.
Suddenly a horn echoed somewhere in the distance, piercing the shroud of night like an arrow. The few remaining enemies started to retreat. By this time Venser had stopped coughing and had rolled over onto his back, and stared through half-shut eyes, at the sky.
The king soon emerged from his chambers along with his personal guard. Venser paid him no heed as he started complaining about some hole in wall. Venser was stuck in a half-conscious state when a sharp voice snapped him out of it. It was the same voice that cried for help during the fight. Pathetic... The helpless one is now running the show. His eyes flashed dark blue as he rose slowly. “I said now! And Mel, get your dwarven arse down here! Bring your friend too.” He scowled as his eyes flashed again, even darker than before. Friend? Please... Don't insult me. The dwarf waved at him to follow her. Begrudgingly, he followed.
Venser lost himself in thought as he followed the dwarf towards the apparently, higher ranking officer that had called them there. His focus kept phasing in and out of the world around him while the dwarf and the elf conversed. he noticed another human being kicked by the guards not far away from him. He scowled at the guards and stared the human in the eye. "You're just letting this happen? Where is your pride?" His projected voice was filled with a cold venom.
His focus shifted back to the conversation in front of him when the dwarf referred to him as a friend. He glared at the dwarf and his eyes flashed dimly under his hood. "I'm not your friend." He muttered under his breath as he looked at the ground like a tormented child. He didn't like being held up in front of the military, he wasn't permitted to be here and he just generally did not like, or trust them.
He looked up at the elf and cocked his head to one side. His eyes started to glow a pale blue as he stared blankly at the elf's face. He pondered the possible reactions the elf would have had if he decided to communicate by telepathic means. "Ah, you must be the helpless one. My name is Venser. It's a pleasure to meet you." His eyes became more focused as he "spoke". "Forgive my... Odd, manner of communication, but I don't do this by choice." Venser straightened himself out and spread his thoughts out so the dwarf could also hear them. "Before I forget my manners, I must thank you all for such a fun evening." He smiled softly at them. In actuality, Venser detested them for being part of the military, but he was always taught to respect his elders.
However, Venser had little time to ponder these thoughts as the aura around him vanished and he fell onto the balcony, landing on his hands and knees, coughing violently. I used too much power, my body couldn't handle it. His eyes flash navy blue in anger at his body's physical weakness. He coughed up some blood. Venser's throat was weak, strenuous use of it would cause it to bleed. He got carried away with his laughter, and now the coughing wasn't helping.
Suddenly a horn echoed somewhere in the distance, piercing the shroud of night like an arrow. The few remaining enemies started to retreat. By this time Venser had stopped coughing and had rolled over onto his back, and stared through half-shut eyes, at the sky.
The king soon emerged from his chambers along with his personal guard. Venser paid him no heed as he started complaining about some hole in wall. Venser was stuck in a half-conscious state when a sharp voice snapped him out of it. It was the same voice that cried for help during the fight. Pathetic... The helpless one is now running the show. His eyes flashed dark blue as he rose slowly. “I said now! And Mel, get your dwarven arse down here! Bring your friend too.” He scowled as his eyes flashed again, even darker than before. Friend? Please... Don't insult me. The dwarf waved at him to follow her. Begrudgingly, he followed.
Venser lost himself in thought as he followed the dwarf towards the apparently, higher ranking officer that had called them there. His focus kept phasing in and out of the world around him while the dwarf and the elf conversed. he noticed another human being kicked by the guards not far away from him. He scowled at the guards and stared the human in the eye. "You're just letting this happen? Where is your pride?" His projected voice was filled with a cold venom.
His focus shifted back to the conversation in front of him when the dwarf referred to him as a friend. He glared at the dwarf and his eyes flashed dimly under his hood. "I'm not your friend." He muttered under his breath as he looked at the ground like a tormented child. He didn't like being held up in front of the military, he wasn't permitted to be here and he just generally did not like, or trust them.
He looked up at the elf and cocked his head to one side. His eyes started to glow a pale blue as he stared blankly at the elf's face. He pondered the possible reactions the elf would have had if he decided to communicate by telepathic means. "Ah, you must be the helpless one. My name is Venser. It's a pleasure to meet you." His eyes became more focused as he "spoke". "Forgive my... Odd, manner of communication, but I don't do this by choice." Venser straightened himself out and spread his thoughts out so the dwarf could also hear them. "Before I forget my manners, I must thank you all for such a fun evening." He smiled softly at them. In actuality, Venser detested them for being part of the military, but he was always taught to respect his elders.
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Demon King Jace - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Moonjuice7 on Tue Feb 09, 2010 4:22 pm
Finally, things were starting to make sense. Seth hurried back to his borrowed room, donned the mottled gray cloak he wore for night flying, and leapt through the open window. Seth always flew when he was stressed. It gave him a chance to enjoy the fresh air and clear his mind. It also gave him an opportunity to stretch his muscles after all the strain of not strangling the Revan ambassador here in Nor. Seth berated himself, he knew better. Of course his idiot cousin Lyle would have more reason for extending an invitation than just a social call, but this?
Seth reviewed the conversation in his mind as he flew. "What I say here doesn't leave the room. There is a power shift going on back home. Someone has murdered Prince Alexander. It is believed the murderer had fled to either Nor or Durnag. You are too move about the city and enjoy your stay here and search for the murderer. This order comes from Léo, but just because you don't live on the island doesn't mean you can disobey the head of the family. We are making a move. The royal line is weak, if we catch the murderer then our rise to power will be much smoother, and much more peaceful. After a month here you are to return to Durnag and continue searching. Be prepared to receive further instructions. Stay close to the king, we will need his influence. You are dismissed."
Seth was still fuming. How dare Lyle talk to me that way. I am still his elder and superior in combat. The family demotes me to a position of no standing, and then plot to use my favor with the king. If I were to turn my back on the family though, they would never take take me back. I would never hold clout on the island again. And this murderer did kill the prince. Seth was interrupted by a flash from the direction of the castle.Well, seeing what is going on there is better than staying around the manor. And with that thought Seth turned and flew towards the castle.
By the time Seth had arrived, there had been several more flashes and the place was in shambles. He arrived just in time to see the King stumble out and stare at his walls in shock. Seth was shocked too. The walls were missing several chunks and there were bodies of huine and orcs scattered about the courtyard. Seth glided down to a female elf who appeared to be in charge of the soldiers. He landed softly and waited for her to finish her conversation before asking questions.
Seth reviewed the conversation in his mind as he flew. "What I say here doesn't leave the room. There is a power shift going on back home. Someone has murdered Prince Alexander. It is believed the murderer had fled to either Nor or Durnag. You are too move about the city and enjoy your stay here and search for the murderer. This order comes from Léo, but just because you don't live on the island doesn't mean you can disobey the head of the family. We are making a move. The royal line is weak, if we catch the murderer then our rise to power will be much smoother, and much more peaceful. After a month here you are to return to Durnag and continue searching. Be prepared to receive further instructions. Stay close to the king, we will need his influence. You are dismissed."
Seth was still fuming. How dare Lyle talk to me that way. I am still his elder and superior in combat. The family demotes me to a position of no standing, and then plot to use my favor with the king. If I were to turn my back on the family though, they would never take take me back. I would never hold clout on the island again. And this murderer did kill the prince. Seth was interrupted by a flash from the direction of the castle.Well, seeing what is going on there is better than staying around the manor. And with that thought Seth turned and flew towards the castle.
By the time Seth had arrived, there had been several more flashes and the place was in shambles. He arrived just in time to see the King stumble out and stare at his walls in shock. Seth was shocked too. The walls were missing several chunks and there were bodies of huine and orcs scattered about the courtyard. Seth glided down to a female elf who appeared to be in charge of the soldiers. He landed softly and waited for her to finish her conversation before asking questions.
Always remember that you are unique. Just like everybody else.
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Moonjuice7 - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by TheTrooper on Tue Feb 09, 2010 9:09 pm
Otomo rose from his position next to the campfire he had built and stretched the kinks out of his body. It was time to move on, as much as he loved the secret creek he had discovered he knew that he couldn't remain here forever. Not while the itch was still buried deep in his mind. Taking what was left of the rabbit from the spit he placed it in his rucksack and covered his scythe in its burlap case. Already the burlap had several holes in it from the sharp edge and point of the scythe, Note to self, purchase more durable case for scythe. Stamping out the fire he took a long draught from the cool spring and set off on his way. His travels had taken him to small hamlets, much like his own, there was nothing different. The people were constantly trapped in the cycle of the harvest and planting. He always lent a hand of course, that would be discourteous of him as they provided him with room and board as a guest, but they never had what he was looking for. He knew it was time to try a city. Uncomfortable with the idea, his palms became clammy and he gained a preoccupation with the sandals on his feet. You knew you were going to have to face it eventually, what did you expect from those tiny villages? That they would be different? You would find the answer you'd been searching for all along? Pathetic! Unable to cope with his derisive mind Otomo lost himself in the clouds as he was wont to do. How life would have been different if I had payed more attention to the sheep, ah well life goes on. He pulled a battered and yellow map from his rucksack and found that the Kingdom of Nor was a few miles away so he picked up the pace.
I knew these city folk were crazy, but smashing their own walls? Otomo agape at the wanton destruction before him attempted to dispel the preconceptions from his mind. Mama, always did say you didn't learn about a man from what another told you, you found out whether the talker liked the person or not. Shouldering his scythe and tightening the strap on his rucksack he walked up to the guard posted by the city gates.
"Oi! Where do yeh think yer goin'?"
Otomo sighed to himself, Obviously there's been a ruckus of some sort, can't really blame 'em.
"Just be lookin' for a place to lay my head and find me some honest work. A man can still do that, aye?"
"Sure thing, if the man we talkin' 'bout is an honest man...Are you an honest man?"
Otomo backed up as three spears were lowered in his general direction, deadly sharp and what looked like blood covered the tips. Anxiety flashed in his mind, what if they gutted him on the spot? He decided to play it safe and acquiesce. He uncovered his scythe and emptied his rucksack of its meager filling, half a rabbit, a half-filled wineskin, a loaf of white bread, and a single apple. All fairly cold from his walk here. He laid the items on the ground on top of the rucksack but kept the scythe on-hand, they would find him a hard man to kill if it came down to it. Then he saw the hunger in their eyes, they were probably the guard from the night before. Going without relief because of what had occurred during the night. He knew what it was like to go without a meal, when the harvest went bad and in his travels.
"I s-see y-y'all are f-famished, feel f-free to t-take what you like."
Otomo cursed his stutter but it was the best he could do, he wasn't much of a people person anyway
He saw their eyes light up like the little children in his own small village on Pie Day. Taking turns eating they all eventually warmed up to him.
"We took a raid yesterday, a guard said, his mouth full of roast rabbit, some Huine and Orcs thought it'd be a good idea to take on Nor. We set 'em straight didn't we boys?"
They cheered in unison as Otomo sat down across from them to take in the newest information.
I knew these city folk were crazy, but smashing their own walls? Otomo agape at the wanton destruction before him attempted to dispel the preconceptions from his mind. Mama, always did say you didn't learn about a man from what another told you, you found out whether the talker liked the person or not. Shouldering his scythe and tightening the strap on his rucksack he walked up to the guard posted by the city gates.
"Oi! Where do yeh think yer goin'?"
Otomo sighed to himself, Obviously there's been a ruckus of some sort, can't really blame 'em.
"Just be lookin' for a place to lay my head and find me some honest work. A man can still do that, aye?"
"Sure thing, if the man we talkin' 'bout is an honest man...Are you an honest man?"
Otomo backed up as three spears were lowered in his general direction, deadly sharp and what looked like blood covered the tips. Anxiety flashed in his mind, what if they gutted him on the spot? He decided to play it safe and acquiesce. He uncovered his scythe and emptied his rucksack of its meager filling, half a rabbit, a half-filled wineskin, a loaf of white bread, and a single apple. All fairly cold from his walk here. He laid the items on the ground on top of the rucksack but kept the scythe on-hand, they would find him a hard man to kill if it came down to it. Then he saw the hunger in their eyes, they were probably the guard from the night before. Going without relief because of what had occurred during the night. He knew what it was like to go without a meal, when the harvest went bad and in his travels.
"I s-see y-y'all are f-famished, feel f-free to t-take what you like."
Otomo cursed his stutter but it was the best he could do, he wasn't much of a people person anyway
He saw their eyes light up like the little children in his own small village on Pie Day. Taking turns eating they all eventually warmed up to him.
"We took a raid yesterday, a guard said, his mouth full of roast rabbit, some Huine and Orcs thought it'd be a good idea to take on Nor. We set 'em straight didn't we boys?"
They cheered in unison as Otomo sat down across from them to take in the newest information.
"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."
"So when you're waiting for the next attack, you better stand there's no turning back."
"So when you're waiting for the next attack, you better stand there's no turning back."
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TheTrooper - Member for 3 years
Re: Sword of the Abandoned- Revival ( )
by Orrin55 on Tue Feb 09, 2010 11:21 pm
Shuffling was heard in the background as Greyn observed the retreating forces from his view in the summoned tree. "Just like wolves." He muttered as he thought over the attack. It had began suddenly and ended to quickly for it to be a proper siege. Granted there were quite a few skilled fighters and magicians about, but the enemy still had enough troops to make it last another good half hour. The cloaked hunter sighed and mentally stored away this information as he twisted to watch the militia men that approached his tree. "Was there a bloody tree here before?" The voice was rough, obviously strained from the recent battle and Greyn heard another answer "Possibly from that magician they caught over there." The men glanced over at the robed figure before turning back to the tree "We can ask him to take it down later."
Another snorted in contempt "Just chop the blasted thing down, we could use the firewood anyway." A chorus of agreement had Greyn snapping off a shot in a second of rage. Yells as the iron broadhead struck stone and sparked causing the men to jump back in surprise. After a moment they advanced cautiously spears raised as they scanned the trees. "There." Greyn saw one point exactly where he was and made a mental curse as the rest followed his gaze. "I don't see anything." a bearded guard said Then again the hunter thought maybe i can escape. "You can't see his form, just the eyes." The spotter replied "Kinda like when you see a cat in the night an their eyes glow." One by one the men spotted him, Greyn could only watch in despair as realization settled in and in a moment he knew he had lost.
"Good Darkness men." Greyn called, "I'm coming down."
They took a step back and watched in suspicion as the cloaked figure dropped down and holstered the strangly crafted longbow back onto his back. " Might as well give us your weapons." a man said prodding his spear forward. Greyn answered him with a harsh glare "Forgive me if i don't unarm myself." He replied "I perfer to keep my weapons just in case i need them again." the rough voice he gave brooked no argument and reluctently the militia nodded their consent "Let's just take him to the captain and head back to bed." This time a clean-shaven fellow spoke up, the bearded man chuckled "First a drink, then bed." Nods all around and taking a brisk march they led greyn back to the Female elf they called captain.
Another snorted in contempt "Just chop the blasted thing down, we could use the firewood anyway." A chorus of agreement had Greyn snapping off a shot in a second of rage. Yells as the iron broadhead struck stone and sparked causing the men to jump back in surprise. After a moment they advanced cautiously spears raised as they scanned the trees. "There." Greyn saw one point exactly where he was and made a mental curse as the rest followed his gaze. "I don't see anything." a bearded guard said Then again the hunter thought maybe i can escape. "You can't see his form, just the eyes." The spotter replied "Kinda like when you see a cat in the night an their eyes glow." One by one the men spotted him, Greyn could only watch in despair as realization settled in and in a moment he knew he had lost.
"Good Darkness men." Greyn called, "I'm coming down."
They took a step back and watched in suspicion as the cloaked figure dropped down and holstered the strangly crafted longbow back onto his back. " Might as well give us your weapons." a man said prodding his spear forward. Greyn answered him with a harsh glare "Forgive me if i don't unarm myself." He replied "I perfer to keep my weapons just in case i need them again." the rough voice he gave brooked no argument and reluctently the militia nodded their consent "Let's just take him to the captain and head back to bed." This time a clean-shaven fellow spoke up, the bearded man chuckled "First a drink, then bed." Nods all around and taking a brisk march they led greyn back to the Female elf they called captain.
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Orrin55 - Member for 3 years
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