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Harborym Valley

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Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Marten on Tue Mar 20, 2007 4:59 pm

The faint, familiar sound of a large animal passing through the under brush met Isiwen's ears, although the source was several hundred yards away. Surrounded by leagues of weald, he was capable of hearing things many could not fathom, aside from other Vykens. The rustling grew ever closer, yet the creature remained downwind, its scent remaining hidden.

Isiwen's nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply in a futile attempt to identify the creature while remaining hidden amongst the boughs of oak.

"Clever, aren't you?"

With the grace and ease of a task performed for years, Isiwen slid down the bole of a tree, his feet making no audible noise as he landed atop a mound of foliage that had collected. The harvest season was fast approaching, which would bring with it merchants from the South, hailing from regions he was unfamiliar with. If the crops had been bountiful, he may be able to enjoy a delectable meat pie and baked apples, covered in a spice that did not grow in Harborym valley.

Turning his thoughts to the task at hand, Isiwen shot forth into the encroaching wood, along a path that would intercept the unknown beast six hundred yards from his point of origin. The manner in which he moved was awe-inspiring, his limbs working in unison as he sprinted through briar and brush, only his foot falls making any sound. His attire only added to the difficulty in detecting him as he moved.

Straining to confine his broad chest was a vest of tanned leather, strung together by black stitching of coarse linen. His muscular thighs pressed firmly against heavy leather pulled taut over his legs, the trousers having been dyed a faint viridian that mirrored that of the changing wilderness. Wrapped about his shins and kept in place by a cord of woven hair were thick leather leggings, cut so that his feet were bare. The leggings were tinted a deep brown to reflect that of his surroundings. Upon his back was a short cloak, made of nothing but the pelts of the Wargs that closely resembled his ancestors, the Vykes. Adorning his wide wrists were bands of iron, bound in leather and lined with the same fur as that of his cloak.

The deep amber of his eyes suddenly lightened, his pupils dilating as he ran through a clearing, sunlight flooding his vision. The clearing was a precursor to a denser part of the forest, the only respite being a stream that cut through the thicket.

In one fluid movement, Isiwen leapt over the stream and landed on the opposite bank, pausing a moment to listen, bird song filling the air. The fine layer of hair that covered his body; aside from his face, hands and feet; stood on end, instinct overpowering logic as he deftly darted through a bramble, positioning himself so that he could watch the stream, having removed a hatchet that had been hidden within a nearly invisible belt, its material artfully fashioned to match the different hues of his clothing.

The hatchet's blade was the length of a dagger, hilt and all. Its edge was sharpened to the point that it would cleave through bone with ease. The handle had been carved out of a dark wood, whittled down until it was smooth to the touch.

The pointed tips of Isiwen's ears passed through his long, unkempt locks, as they involuntarily twitched, the sound and its source nearly upon him.

Bounding through the wood, on a path that bordered the stream was a feral snow-cat, roughly the size of a destrier. It was very odd for these beasts to venture away from the mountains it called home, he thought to himself.

Isiwen watched intently as it came to a halt, the enormous pads of its feet sinking into the damp earth. He observed how it moved, the taint of blood filling the air. When the cat turned towards the stream, he saw several shafts protruding from its side, the white fur now encrimsoned. Not only had the archers been unskilled, but the fletcher that had created the arrows was a novice at best, the wood notched and gnarled. It would seem that something had taken residence in the mountains that separated the valley from the unknown. In the past, his people lived along side these cats, but had moved South, into the seemingly endless forest.

Coming to the conclusion that he would approach the beast, Isiwen slid the hatchet into the belt, the flat of the blade pressed against his back. Cautiously, he moved out from where he had hidden and stepped towards the cat, making a faint purring sound as he stretched his hand outwards, the sallow nails that protruded from his finger tips glistening.

The beast turned to face him with a roar that rang throughout the land, it glaring at Isiwen as water trickled down from its jowl. It spread its legs, preparing to pounce. Which it would have had it not suddenly collapsed, having lost far too much blood during its journey. Its vision blurred as Isiwen came closer, crouching slightly so that his palm ran down its side, assessing the damage that had been done.

A soft growl escaped its lips as it lost consciousness, Isiwen's countenance the last thing it saw.

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Marten on Wed Mar 28, 2007 4:30 pm

Isiwen combed his fingers through the thick, luxurious fur that covered the feline's side, his hand moving down towards its wounds. If it did not live through the night after his care, it would make for both a fine feast and a cloak (and then some) that he could use to shield himself during his infrequent ventures into the mountains. If the beast had not bled out to such an extent, Isiwen would have had to engage it in combat, even though he was only level with its chest.

Coming to the realization that the animal could awaken at any moment, disoriented from the loss of blood, he went to work as if it were nothing more than a mundane task he undertook daily. Firmly grasping the shaft nearest him, he forcefully extracted the arrow from within the cat's flesh, fresh blood spilling out of the now vacant cavity. The arrow's tip was nothing more than stone crudely sharpened to a point, its edges serrated. He brought the blood-soaked tip to his face, his eyelids fluttering as he fought back the ever-present temptation that every Vyken felt when confronted with fresh blood. Isiwen's nostrils flared as he thoroughly inspected the stone, his heightened senses sniffing for poison. Once he was convinced that it held no toxins, he tossed the arrow aside and made quick work of the others.

Removing his leggings, Isiwen made a make-shift dressing, covering the wounds with the leather while fastening it in place with the woven cord, which was more difficult than it seemed. He had struggled to lift the beast with one arm while running the cord beneath it and out to the other side with the other arm. He let out a deep sigh, whispering, "That should hold until I return."

He rose from the ground after giving the dressing a tug to be sure of its resilience. Peering into the distance, his eyes looked past the forest and into the mountains that lay beyond, piercing the sky, solemn and severe like a warrior's blade. As keen as Isiwen's sight was, he could not truly see through the trees. He merely brought back memories of the range and its unforgiving terrain. His gaze fell to the torpid feline, anger rising within him. It was true that his people were known more for their sudden fits of rage than altruism, but there was a sense of indecency that fueled his fury. What sort of wretch would harm such a beautiful animal?

The broad expanse of his chest rose and fell steadily as he calmed himself, knowing that anger would not help it survive. Stepping away from the fallen form, Isiwen took off at a sprint, no longer moving like a man. Once he had attained a fair amount of speed, he leaned forward and pressed his palms against the earth. Upon the first bestial bound, his speed nearly tripled, while he crossed more terrain than he would have up-right. He was headed towards the spot where he had first become aware of the snow cat. He had left a satchel that held his tools and provisions, used when he was away from the village his tribe called home, behind.

He knew that he would have to warn them, but that could wait for the time being. Moving through the trees, Isiwen came to a skidding halt, having heard movement coming from the south west. Crouching lower to the ground, an arrow suddenly fell before him, oscillating from the force it had struck the earth with. A guttural growl emanated from overhead as three shrouded figures landed audibly, surrounding him.

"It seems we rushed for nothing. It's just the lone cub," said the form directly before Isiwen, "who seems to have made a kill." It was Etien, one of the Vyken guard that protected the tribes and their lands. He was at complete odds in appearance when compared to Isiwen. While Isiwen appeared to be a mortal with beastly features, Etien resembled a vyke that stood erect and had the bare minimum in mortal attributes. His feet were more like paws, the heels held aloft. Etien's head doubled that of Isiwen's in size, his fangs glistening menacingly as he spoke, eyes of a deep amber watching Isiwen rise. His ears, like a vyke's, were situated at the top of his head, while his entire body was covered with a thick coat of livid fur, ruddy streaks running down the length of his arms. Of Etien's companions, one was a animalistic as he while the other had a finer coat and human feet. Their attire was much like Isiwen's, meant to obfuscate the eyes of their quarry and conceal them within the weald that was their home.

The third spoke, his voice carrying with it an articulation of arrogance, "Who knew a pup could do such a thing. Especially one as fair as he with senses as dull as a newborn child."

"They're sharp enough to kill you where you stand, Bikram." It was the second Vyken, Lüz, that spoke. "We did not come to bicker, but to investigate the taint of blood we caught while on patrol. Now, where is the carcass? From the amount of blood in the air, we can feed for weeks."

"It lays leagues from here, but it still lives. The beast, a snow cat, was driven out of the mountains by something that hunted it. Now that you're here, it may live. I was on my way to fetch my things, but the three of you are a better set of tools. I require your allheal. I may need all of it. Before you begin arguing, know that I shall replenish your vessels myself." He paused, before adding, "Better yet, follow me."

Turning his back to Etien, Isiwen took off once more, leading the pack as they moved towards the stream that served as a boundary, separating Leaf and Tree from Star and Sky, the two Vyken houses that were divided into various villages around the valley. Isiwen hailed from the Yew tribe and was one of the few that survived the fire that overtook its village. Etien and his companions were from the Oak tribe, their strength derived from the tree that was their emblem.

Their pace slackened as they crossed the stream and stood, mouths agape, at the terrible beauty and strength of the feline, even as it lay prostrate. Etien and his men set their bows aside, moving closer to better take in the magnificence.

"The allheal... We shall give it all if need be..."

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Marten on Mon Apr 02, 2007 3:30 pm

"I see you, Guard Etien." The voice had come from a Vyken whose age was obvious in both appearance and sonance; the once gleaming coat had dulled to an ashen hue while the voice held within it strength and resolve gained through seasons of hardships.

"I see you, Elder Katoch." Etien bowed his head as he held his hand aloft, extended towards the tribal elder. This was a frivolous formality that all Vykens had to follow when conducting their routine councils, forcing them to think before they speak and to acquire social finesse. Etien preferred times of conflict, when such asinine formalities were done away with, but he dare not insult Elder Katoch with brevity.

Katoch gave a slight nod of his wizened head, consenting to Etien's request to speak. "Come, tell me of your daily patrol and what you encountered, which must have been of grave importance for you to seek an audience in my chambers." His "chambers" consisted of a long, dark room whose walls were lined with various pelts and antique weapons which had not seen battle since seasons long passed. Because of Katoch's rank, he and his line resided in a miniature compound of cabins, built close to one another and connected by paths of smoothed stone. The cabins were sturdily built, crafted from oak and pine. The rest of the Vykens lived in similar edifices, only smaller in stature and spaced farther apart. There was a market of sorts in the village's center, while the entrance to the House of Elders faced the Southern sky.

"Thank you, Elder. Aside from repairing a nominal amount of damage done to the wall that surrounds Oak village by a pack of wild boar, there was little else of import," Etien began, lowering his hand so that it rest at his side, "until, when scouting through the Northern lands, following the swine, we came across a strong trail of blood; much more than mere game could provide. We strayed off our path and moved towards the scent's source, using the trees to conceal us and grant us a tactical advantage should the need to fight arise. We stopped when we noted the sound of movement coming in our direction. Bikram readied his bow and shot before identifying the form, which was Isiwen of Yew. After questioning him, he led us to the beast, which was an injured snow cat. He asked for our allheal, which we willingly provided.

The purpose of me coming here, though, was the cause of the injures. It seems some cognizant beings have taken residence in the mountains, meaning they must have passed through our lands to do so. I ask your permission to led a small group of our Guard to investigate the lower reaches of the range."

"Mmm... Although I find it disturbing that a group of creatures were able to cross our borders without notice, I feel that it is wise to consult the mystics and see if their scrying can assist us." Katoch adjusted himself, shifting as he sat upon rustic poufs covered in furs.

"Many thanks for your words. I shall go summon the Wind Readers."

"Before you do, bring me the cub. I'd like to hear what transpired before you crossed paths."

"As you command, Elder." Etien bowed his head once again before turning and walking out of the room and into the courtyard situated in the center of the compound. Contrary to their reputation, the Vykens were a race that enjoyed the finer aspects of life. They may not have been as ostentatious as the city-dwellers, but they adored more natural sources of beauty. The courtyard was a testament to their adoration. A miniature pond lay in its center, lined with lush grass that would soon be enveloped in snow. Vibrant hues of emerald, damask and gold entranced the eyes, while falling petals filled the air with their sweet scent, turning the foliage into a marvelous mosaic. Etien smiled, though it was not entirely noticeable due to his carnal countenance. Collecting his thoughts, he passed out of the compound all together, beginning to search for Isiwen who should have returned to the village by now.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Marten on Mon May 21, 2007 10:32 pm

A shrill note ran its course through the weald of Harborym, forcing birds from their roosts and into the night sky, their forms flitting across the moons at random intervals, their sheer number enough to blacken the entirety of the sky in their egress. It was a call to arms, the likes of which had not been heard since the Vyken's ascension from their primitive state of complete bestiality. The urgency and contempt conveyed in the piercing sound was one that only the Vyken could fully grasp, yet the creatures that resided by their side felt that their formerly peaceful habitat would be no longer and they continued to migrate elsewhere; those that could handle the inclement weather headed to the mountains, while the rest chose to move deeper into the woods, into the heart of the land of Star and Sky.

A physical discordance akin to that of the alarm was apparent in the Oak tribe's village, its numbers having dwindled to nothing but the men and women who had been given the task of defending their lands, with their lives if necessary. Their ranks were unorganized, if defined by more stringent rules of engagement followed by those from the human lands; the only semblance of a more formal code was that of Etien, one of the Vyken guard, inspecting an assembly of newly fitted Vykens, informing them how to secure their armor if they were on their own and instructing them as to how to efficiently and effectively use every last piece of their defense, even if taken by superior numbers.

The sallow tips of Etien's claws grazed against the leather padding that each of their knights wore beneath the cuirass; that had been fashioned artfully, combining leatherwork and smithing in a way that would seem inadequate, at first glance, but would have its strength revealed soon enough; as he secured the pieces to a Vyken no older than twenty Seasons. Each cuirass (a breastplate and corresponding backplate created by combining iron and copper, folded over until a sheet as thick as the breadth of a piece of bark) took a changing of a moon to fashion, meaning that the Vyken smiths had worked, since the first sign of war which was more than a moon turn ago, to create enough armor and weapons for each of their group able to take up arms. Securing the fastens, Etien turned away, pausing for a moment to reflect upon what had happened in less than the time it had previously taken for the Guard to scour through the entirety of their domain, from root to bough.

As he had left Katoch's home to search for Isiwen, an eerie sense of foreboding began to grow within him, chilling his extremities as he went about his duties, first locating the pup and telling him he was being summoned, then sending envoys to the House of Star and Sky
as well as the Wind Readers. Hours had passed before he was given permission to speak with the mystics, who had been preparing their spell since receiving the request from the Elder.

Although he was not there to witness the conference between Isiwen and the tribal leader, Etien could tell that something unusual had transpired. Isiwen was more recalcitrant than he usually was while Katoch, who had only denied seeing others during hours of grave importance, turned away many who asked to exchange words with him.

That night, he was summoned to the Elder's quarters to be given a report on what the Wind Readers had discerned during their scrying. He was unsure what they did exactly, but Etien knew that they would burn stalks of various incense while envoking a deity of the old ways and would look to the branches and their movements, then read the descent of fallen leaves in order to know what others did not. Standing at the entrance to the room and peering into faces that seemed devoid of anything but remorse, Etien asked, as formally as he could, to be informed as to what ill omen the mystics had given now. It was not until learning that several of small Vyken communities had been brutally slaughtered by troops from the South in full regalia did Etien feel as they did. His sense of sadness was marred with utter disgust at the fact that children and merchants were the primary citizens of such places, meant to trade goods with others in hope of showing humanity that the Vykens were not the carnal creatures they were thought to be.

Now, he could do nothing but laugh at the futility of his people's attempt at making peace with a race that had spent generations killing their own. A skeptic, he was not. Etien was a realist and knew that now.

Stepping confidently into the warmth and light given off by one of many braziers that had been lined along the center of the village, outside of the Elder's compound, Etien felt odd as the weight of the greaves he had worn for a fortnight shifted, reminding him that he wore the sheets of metal, bound in leather, that protected his massive thighs and calves as well as providing him with another weapon; iron spikes protruding from a band of metal that ran along the bottom of each foot. This alteration was only given to the more bestial of the Vyken, due to their inability to place their heels upon the ground.

"Let them come. Let them all come!"

From behind him, an explosion of howls cut through the night, echoing through out the forest as their statement that they would not relinquish their lands, their homes at the first sign of trouble.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Alice in Wonderland on Fri May 25, 2007 8:06 am

((Continuing from the 'Land thrust into Chaos' thread.))

Caitlin let out a shrill yelp as Dusk grabbed her bangled wrist and gragged her from the camp, into the jungle that surrounded. "What's going on!?" she shouted forwards to him. He ignored her, seeming to have blocked her voice out. As if answering her question, thousands, probably more, thoughts barraged her mind. All of them seemed to be intent on the slaying of the innocent.

She found it hards to keep her feet u[ as the stranger dragged her along behind him. Her thoughts turned to her book, left back at the camp. That would be a little tricky to retreive, she thought to herself. Her foot hit a root and she stumbled, her head missing a low hanging branch by a hair's width. Just as she was about to insist that the man slowed down, he did.

She tugged her hand out of his grip and came to walk by his side. "What's the big id-" she began, turning her head to face the break in the trees. Could it be he'd dragged her to the edge of Harborym Valley? Impossible! A gentle ease filled her as they exited the jungle, soon changing to startled amazement at the vast expanse of soldiers under them.
"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." - Oscar Wilde

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Sensha on Fri May 25, 2007 9:30 am

Sensha's eye twitched before the rest of his body could react. He really hated getting ambushed.

Nearly simultaneous with Dusk's arrow, he too was fired upon. " Damn it!!!" He snarled as he launched after Dusk from above, knowing that he could keep up quite easily in the trees. He didn't have time to tell Dusk that, nor the knowledge that the man could even manage staying in one...he hadn't had the chance to ask.

Memories of battles fought long ago began to flood back into his mind as he hastily retreated with his companion and the girl down below him. This was truly going to be a hard battle, one he had yerned for for decades. "Finally, a challenge!" He belowed as arrows rushed past him and the loud movements of the brigade behind them reached his ears. As most people would be scared out of their wits by these things, Sensha was actually enjoying himself.

Without realizing it, Sensha had pushed ahead of his other two companions...and nearly got killed then and there when the tree-line ended and the valley started. He fell quite fast from his leap, the only thing saving him was Tora. He quickly dug the tripple-bladed katar into the valley wall, narrowly escaping a fall that not even he could survive. Momment later he was up... and much to his own horror he finally got a view of what he was up against. His eyes shifted so fast from brigade to brigade that he could barely keep count. There was nearly a million soldiers down there! It was perhaps the first time in his long life that he felt both excitement....and fear crawl up his body.

It took him a momment to realize that Dusk and the girl had come out of the forest not but a few yards from him, and he rushed over to them as there was still atleast a brigade in hot pursuit of them. "Dusk, snap out of it! This isn't the time to be awe-struck, our asses are still on the line!" He reached back and pulled the massive Ryu katar from his back, slipping his full arm into the harness for it. "Take the girl and find some where we can hide, I'll go back and atleast put an end to those troublesome arrows and catch back up. Don't complain, because it's much easier for me to fight alone then having to protect some one...Besides, I've been waiting for this." Sensha gave a grin that had sent chills up the spines of many men in the past before he turned back into the forest and moved at a pace that few could keep up with. He didn't have time to come up with a better plan, but with that girl along their speed would of been hampered and they would of deffinately been in for a fight anyhow.

Momments later, the arrows began to fly and memories of assults on castles and bloody slaughters tumbled around in that twisted mind of his. This was his environment, death his friend, and blood red his favorite color. He was going to enjoy this, atleast for the few momment he was going to be a distraction...but that didn't mean he couldn't rid them of a few sword swingers while he was at it.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Alice in Wonderland on Fri May 25, 2007 12:10 pm

"'The girl' has a name you know," she hissed at Sensha.

So these two men definately knew each other... And they were running from the Ghalerion army? The thoughts of the man who had told the other to hide were disturbing and sent a shiver up her spine. If she could have only chosen to stay where she was rather than be dragged along on some suicidal adventure. She was sure these men were bound of a dangerous future.

As Sensha turned and disappeared back into the jungle behind them, she found herself silently wishing him good luck in his persuit of slaughtering the group that had flanked them.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby BlackheartTheWicked on Fri May 25, 2007 4:57 pm

The colonel's serpentine eyes glazed over for a second as the rest of the company broke through the trees after their leader, his body presenting itself before the massive army in mild shock. Yet it didn't last long; a grin plastered itself upon his lips, hands caressing the side of his mount before he leapt off the saddle and raced over to Ka`zeh's side.

His movements were inhuman when he ran, the way his body swayed from side to side as it practically rippled across the area, feet seeming to barely even move. As he slithered to a stop, Yuudoku casually put a hand on the investigator's shoulder. "Tally-ho, I'd say. Do you spot the general anywhere?"


Aarisa merely watched from atop the hill with the others. She had to adjust her cloak some in mild nervousness at seeing such a large amount of people; there weren't even this many back in her homeland.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Edge on Sat May 26, 2007 9:19 pm

The Temple Estate

Bell ringers flooded the airways, their black cloaks flapping in the wind as they flew. For the first time in a century, the Bell ringers were in their full attire of black from head to toe. The red seal of Lain and the family crest, forever worn together, glowed with an angry red and that wrath could be traced back to one man. Every Bellringer was busy trying to carry out orders to the other parts of the temple compound. Their faces were covered, only their eyes of fear and unsure looks of concern identified them as people. They hung in the air and then softly landed without a sound before taking off to the other temples. Within the temples, names were being written at a rapid pace. The names were those of the dead, where they would be burned and offerings for their peace would be made in sunset. In war times this was what the Temple knew.

Within the most Holy of the grounds, three female Bellringers stood and raised their staves. They danced a Holy Trinity of Birth, Life, and Death. Only female Bellringers were permitted to this dance, for women gave life so it was degreed they would be the Caller of Souls; Souls that would be caught in the winds and way, and would make their pilgrimage here to be sent into the glorious after life. For those at night who looked to the stars, a trail of many souls making the journey would indeed be a beautiful site. Very rarely could masses of Souls be seen traveling together to form a sort of heavenly river of light in the darkest night skies. Many an innocent would see but never understand what a horrid site it really was… Or was it? Was it a blessing to see the lives that would pass on to a forever sleep?

In the stillness Gent had seen, but spoke nothing to his companions. He had watched the souls travel and some even playfully dance… Those were the souls of the dead children who had been killed. Gent could hear the Song of the Souls. Something only a Al Soran or an Al Doran could hear. The two families that had cursed themselves into service of a God, both sprang from the same father, the same seed of life. He cursed himself as he heard Ka’zeh’s words.

“Damn you!” he said in a strangled voice. “Damn you, you foolish idiot!” Robert’s hand went for the sword and drew it. Gent understood, his fingers went straight for the buckles and undid the harness. Gent felt himself sliding off the horse, but Robert made no move to help him. At the last moment, Gent’s magic took hold and the mage glided off the horse’s back. Robert took one look at the mage.

“You stay there.” Robert said, and not to his surprised, the mage gave a dry laugh.
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to run away, right?” Robert grinned to that and took off after Yuudoku. But Gent’s smile didn’t last for long. The mage slowly hovered back in to the shadow of the trees. He could feel it. Feel the panic of many Bellringers. It want another trait of the job, to feel like one. One Bell. One Way. One Master.

And he was right.

In the Temple compound Talvyth was issuing new orders ever few minutes. Indeed he had a feeling this was not a time to relax. No there was much to be done. He dispatched a squad of five Bellringers, bidding them to take the white masks… Something that had not been done since the days of the Great War that had shaken the foundations of Ghalerion. The white masks were plain and only painted with brief amounts of color to mimic animal spirits. This was to preserve the identity of any Bellringer of Lain, from being picked out. It made them numberless, clones only for one duty, and that was to the dead.

Generally there was an unspoken agreement that the priests of any deity would be spared to care for the dead… But something in Talvyth’s heart said that if someone were to harness the power of the souls… Something terrible could be massed together.

“Damn you…” Talvyth said as he stared into the smoke. As he felt a breeze, the Gatekeeper’s hand shot out and caught the breeze. Whispering an order, Talvyth let it go and watched. He prayed that it would reach Gent.

…and it did as the mage sat in the shadows… Carefully pulling on his black robes and pulling his mask from the bag. He was weak… that much was true… But if he could find someway to get in touch with the other Bellringers, then a pool of information would leak out… And then the Bellringers could send out warnings with their networks.

The land was at war.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Alucroas on Sun May 27, 2007 12:31 am

The once gloomy look on his face began to contort into a lifted smile endowed with bliss and everything that was joyful, finally getting to leave that ugly and annoying jungle and possibly get a nice bath in the refreshing rivers that flowed through the valley; Perhaps get to enjoy some of the fruits that were scattered throughout the massive area. Whatever the hell he got to do he'd most definitely enjoy it, that is until the devastating reality had left him stricken in utter awe.

Men stood lined up numbered in the thousands barking down orders, not moving even a milimeter out of place; A discipline that Von could never live up in a billion universal life times. His crimson orbs continued to peer throughout the vicinity, shaking in excitement, adrenaline and fear all simultaneously from the sheer immense intensity that went into the current situation, convoluting his thoughts, distorting whatever glimmer of sanity that had been left in the already unstable individual. Tugging forcefully on the reins of his horse and bringing it to a complete halt behind some of the branches that had hung down infront of him.

His aim was to take the stealth approach since he knew charging in would leave him dead open for a catastrophic barrage of attacks, killing him almost instantaneously upon exiting the safe obscurity of that thick underbrush. Kneeling with a careful precision snapping a few small twigs, each miniscule piece of bark he broke felt like a limestone block beating against his chest, damn near shattering the confines of his rib cage. Fear had never entered the mind of the crazed loonatic, and alas it had come to him, and it wasn't something he was about to greet with open arms either.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Mosquito bite.
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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jader on Sun May 27, 2007 9:21 am

Ka`zeh felt Yuudoku's presence slide in beside him, but the detective wasn't very concerned about the man. After all, he was also a commander of Ghalerion, and the younger sibling to Gaidoku, one of the Arch Generals. The guards looked from Ka`zeh to Yuudoku, their flustered expressions beginning to wane significantly.

"Ah, Commander Ka`zeh. Commander Yuudoku. I see you have come to aid us in the Harborym Valley Invasion. If you'll follow me, I can- WHO THE HELL IS THAT!?" The guard barked, suspicions renewed as he lifted an accusing index finger towards the emerging and cursing Von.

"What!? Who?! Where!?" Ka`zeh stammered, waving his arms desperately as if to send some kind of verbal signal to the wanted criminal lumbering from the thick jungle trees behind him.

"Wait a minute...I recognize that fellow..." One of the guards piped up, steering his horse forward so he could get a better look at Von.

Shit, this is totally not good. What do I do?!

Ka`zeh's thoughts riveted his mentality like the way grenade shrapnel rivets the skin off someone's face, but this was no time to conjure clever metaphors! His companions were in danger of being discovered and possibly killed or captured. The detective had to think fast.

"That's the criminal Von! And there seem to be others in the forest as well! I think it's an ambush sir! THEY'RE WORKING WITH THOSE DISGUSTING VYKENS!" The troop bellowed in a rather dramatic fashion that really didn't fit the situation very well.

It was time for the witty, precise, and ever calculating detective to make a decision that would guarantee the safety of his companions. A decision so elusive and so laced with unshakeable foundations of knowledge that scholars would cite it in their works for generations upon generations.

"RUN! ALL OF YOU RUN!!" Ka`zeh bellowed, twirling his sword around like a madman as he dug his heels into his mount's sides, beckoning it straight into the ranks of bewildered and frightened soldiers.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING COMMANDER KA`ZEH!!?" The head officer bellowed in confusion, nearly getting thrown from his horse as their tight formation was scattered by the detective penetrating its center.

"FOOLS! DON'T YOU SEE!? VYKENS!! IN THE TREES! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!!" Ka`zeh roared, and suddenly beginning knocking men from their horses. He was quite powerful for such a small man.

"Vykens!? What!? Where!?" The troops began to panic, their swords drawing as the ones that were dismounted began scrambling around in confusion.

The detective had managed to cause quite a commotion, which he obviously did so his comrades could quickly bolt from the jungle and down the winding path leading into Harborym Valley.

I think I've either said or thought this before...but not only do I hate my life..I could really go for a smoke right about now Ka`zeh thought to himself as he flailed his arms into the ranks of the confused soldiers.
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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Marten on Sun May 27, 2007 11:44 am

"FOOLS! DON'T YOU SEE!? VYKENS!! IN THE TREES! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!!"

Little did the mortal know that his words held some truth, although the Vykens were far enough out of range to be detected by their camp. A unit with less than a hundred Vykens, under Etien's command, had been dispatched to observe the army and had done so for the past sennight. Although he had not attacked their ranks outright, Etien and his command had continued to slay each and every scout they sent into the weald, familiarizing themselves with the enemy's armor and weapons.

The scouts traveled light and wore little visible armor, knowing full well that just a faint glimmer would attract the nearest Vyken to them. It would appear that they had not taken a Vyken sense of smell and hearing into consideration. But, given their superior numbers, he doubted whether it was a matter of grave importance to their commanders.

Etien and his comrades prowled through the brush and bough, nearly a league away from the army's outermost boundary. Although they could not see their enemy exactly, they were capable of knowing exactly where they were by combining the sound of their heartbeats and the strength of their scent in the air. It was time that they made their presence known.

Giving the silent order, by gesture, the squadron began to fan out into a semi-circle, two to every furlong. Each of them was armed for a long distance battle, Etien having formulated a plan to diminish the enemy's numbers while placing those under him in a nominal amount of danger for the time being. Every Vyken was fitted with two quivers; kept in place by broad leather belts that could be discarded with no more effort than slicing through the material with their claws. One such belt was slung across their chest, the nocks directly over their right shoulder while another hung at their side. The Vyken war bow was a sight to behold; it towered over their forms and each was crafted only from Oak, the strongest wood in the valley that had once been home but was now a battleground. No mortal could string them and, had they not seen the bow being used, would have thought of it as nothing more than a stave with a tassel hanging from the head.

A susurrus ran through the wood, a sign that each cell had reached their pre-determined position. Etien came to a halt, his carnal countenance smirking as Isiwen readied his bow, taking aim at the camp while remaining slightly under a mile away from their marks. In the past moonturns Isiwen, more than any other Vyken, took the audacity of the Ghalerions to heart, splitting his time between preparing for war and tending to the snow cat that was as fond of him as he was of it.

Etien regarded the man for a moment before lifting a horn to his lips. Like nearly everything the Vykens crafted, it had been engineered from wood but with such expertise that it resembled a flute, an intricate design of leaves caught in the wind traveling its length. Blowing deeply into the horn, eerie seconds followed his action yet no audible note reached the ears of the camp. Yet each and every Vyken in the area knew that it was time to begin. Placing the horn at his side, Etien lifted his own bow and fitted it, taking careful aim before letting fly, the shrill whistle of its alacritous trek reverberating in all of their ears before it was replaced with a resounding thud and screams of panic.

The first of their volley landed in the midst of their ranks, their figures beginning to scatter for shelter but not before Etien witnessed a shaft passing fully through the throat of one of Ghalerion's soldiers, the nock leaving a wider hole than the tip had. The scent of blood began to fill the air as a second volley quickly followed the first and preceded a third.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby BlackheartTheWicked on Mon May 28, 2007 11:12 am

The colonel heard the low boom of the horn first, even before any of the troops or commanders could hear it... that is, if they could hear it at all over their paniced screaming and flailing of arms. Head outstretched towards the forest, snake-eyes narrowed to keen slits as Yuudoku allowed his serpentine senses to take over; he could see each of the beasts, their bodies appearing to him in a visual of heat colors, yellow around the outlines and gradually decending into the warmer colors of orange and crimson the closer it got to their beating hearts.

"Well, well... I suppose I'll take over from here..." He sighed to himself as he faced the three squadrons of inhumans alone, cape billowing out behind him while he grasped the tip of his large hat. It was quickly removed, the phoenix feather plume whipping in the wind as the entire article was raised to the sky.

"Time to play, boys!" It was then that he would show why he was selected as one of Ghale's many colonels.

With a dull rumble, the ground began to bristle as the earth beneath them churned and groaned, signaling that something underneath the surface was striving to emerge from the depths of the abyss it once slumbered in. The closer they came to breaching the surface, the more violent the ground became until finally, it cracked open and allowed two monstrous beasts to slither out from within the earth's inner rings.

Scales a shining, eyes unblinking and full with the same determination as their master, forked tongues flickered in and out from the cavernous mouths of two basilisks, their bodies towering greatly over the forms of the troops, both good and evil. The massive heads would swing from one side to the other in attempts to see where they had been summoned to, and once upon gazing into the eyes of their enemies, bristled in pure excitement and anticipation.

"Hellsheen... Venom... play nicely, now.... Ok, on second thought, eat every last one except their commander. We will want him alive..." Yuudoku stroked the side of one of the giant snakes, bemused grin reemerging upon his lips.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Alice in Wonderland on Tue May 29, 2007 7:20 pm

Caitlin was quickly drawn out of her state of awe as the whistling of finely sharpened arrows filled the scene before them. What had she walked into? Wait. She hadn't walked. The strange man had dragged her here. She didn't know whether to kick him or thank him. She had, after all, been searching for the valley for quite some time now. This was far beyond what she had expected to be here, though she wasn't sure quite what she'd been expecting in the first place.

As per usual, her head was filled with the ubiquitous humming of thoughts that weren't her's. The amry stretched so far out that she was sure she couldn't pick up the thoughts of the furthest men.

Her attention was taken by someone who had also just entered the battlefield. A man with reptilian features who seemed to be speaking to himself. Before she knew it, two serpentine creautres burst from the ground and slithered over the cracked earth, swaying and hissing angrily.

"Looks like we won't be getting out of here without a few scrapes and bruises..." she mumbled, thinking aloud. She preferred this method of thinking as she could always be sure that what she said were her own thoughts.

Clapping her hands together and holding them tightly in front of her, her fingers pointed towards the battilions of soldiers. A gentle purple aura radiated from her skin as she formed the mystic words of an ancient tongue. Pulling her hands slowly away from one another, the outline of a what looked like a toothpick grew between her palms. The sliver of wood grew lengthways, growing fatter at the same time. The object become opaque and it became apparent that it was a polearm. both ends of the weapon had serrated blades attatched. At the base of each was a leather ribbon decorated with feathers and beads.

She was unsure of which side she would be fighting on or if they were lone rangers in this affair, but she knew one thing: she wasn't afraid to kill anyone who got in her way as she traversed this valley.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Edge on Wed May 30, 2007 9:14 pm

Gent sat in the shadows as Robert drew his sword. He rode up cursing beside Ka’zeh, but taking on look around he realized he would have to do some of his own acting as well to convince the troops they were after Von, not them.

“Damn it Ka’zeh, we come all the way here, just as that villain planned,” he was of course speaking of Von. “Now we’re surrounded by these damned flea bags.” The words had barely left his lips when the rain of arrows thundered down on them all. Reflexes shot out as the arrows that dared to go near Robert hit instead the traveling pack that he and Gent carried. Then Robert whirled around to grab Ka’zeh’s reins,

“Are you nuts?!” He hissed at Ka’zeh, “You won’t last a minute and we’re already in the whole fricking army’s view…”

Then he saw Yuudoku…. “What in the nine rings of Hell is that?” Robert gripped his sword uneasily, even with his magical eye swiveling around; Robert couldn’t see a well ending out of this. But he was thankful for Gent being out of the way, the big man was going to need all the room he could get.

But Gent wasn’t alone… Somewhere a new spell was being unleashed… Something with old words. Yes he understood them now. He shuffled through his robes and pulled out an old scruffy looking bag. While it looked normal, it was on the things Gent prized most. Reaching deep into the pouch, he began to defy time and space… For he pulled out two long strange devices. Undoing the buckles, Gent proceeded to roll up his pant leg and place his crippled legs into the devices. It was a passion of his to invent, and here he was having to really use one of his most risky inventions… A prosthetic leg. A leg that would help shape and allow his legs to move as he tried to get his cripple legs into the device. It was by no means perfect, in fact he still wobbled a little and he still couldn’t wear them for long periods of time, but for this, he had to use it. Gent refused to be a burden to Robert. Finally he stood and his robes covered the imperfections of his body.

He could move… Finally… Gent took off towards the source of the spell he had heard on a wind…

Meanwhile a group of five black Bellringers soared through the air, trying to stay as close together as possible. They could not begin to understand that their world was rocked beyond repair. What they did know however, was their master’s will to have his brother back. They amused themselves with the why’s but came to no other answer then guilt.

Talvyth had been the reason for Edward’s death. A death of an AlDoran. That one death had caused a rift through Talvyth and Gent, both of whom loved their brother dearly. But Gent had not forgiven his eldest brother for sending Edward to his death.

So the five black flyers flew on, trying to reach their master’s little brother before Death came and reaped that life as well.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kouketsu on Thu May 31, 2007 9:57 pm

The look plastered upon the deposed-lord-baron-turned-rogue's countenance could only be described as absolute awe. Not the same awe lingering from the sight of that river of troops marching in unison and prepared to tear his country apart, no. This awe was only inspired by the absolute insanity displayed in virtually every companion he had come upon getting this far and their desires to rush headlong into that dangerous crowd.

"Are you people MAD?!" Weapons were drawn, beasts of mythical lore summoned from gaia's depths, horses charged, mysticism enacted, and arrows shot. It seemed that poor Dusk's country truly was turning into a land thrust into chaos before his very eyes. Still standing aside that girl he had only met moments before and seeing even her prepare to defend herself, his initial feelings about engaging the troops upon first seeing them were conflicting with the thoughts evoked by how all those around him chose to act. His hand gripped tight 'round the hilt of the single blade he kept drawn at that point, alternating between tight squeezes and loosening his grip.

Do I raise the guard and fight? This is suicide. Absolute suicide.

He might have been brave, he might have been battle-hardened and skilled, and he might have been fighting for his country, but one must always draw a line in situations of this magnitude, and there was no chance he'd be rushing headfirst down that slope upon which he stood down towards that mass. And as if the entangled thoughts caused by that army itself weren't enough, recognizing that the mounted figure rushing through the crowd down below them was none other than the inspector from the city of Ghalerion himself threw Dusk's normal decisiveness completely out of it. He didn't know what to do, and in the heat of the moment as those arrows were coming from the forest behind them and descending into the valley volley after volley some distance over and Sensha rushed down into the fray and offered some words, the calamity set Dusk's heartbeats into motion once more, and without another bit of hesitation, he turned and offered that girl still standing aside him a single bit of advice and opportunity before rushing off.

"Well, you can be like everybody else right now and go get yourself killed if you want. Or you can come follow the trail to Focalor and try to at least keep yourself with all four limbs. Your choice, but Gaius help me, I'm getting out of here NOW." And without another word at that juncture, he gave his blade a quick twirl, inverting it in his grasp and rushed off along the outer edge of the forest, dashing at a feverish pace along the narrow path of flat ground before the level they were on descended steeply into the valley. He'd need to watch his step of course so as to not tumble down that slope, but there were some worries just a bit more considerable at the moment, namely the volley of arrows coming from the direction in which he was running no less - his usual kind of luck - and the tens of thousands of soldiers which with a mere turn of the head towards the forest's edge would catch immediate sight of his alabaster cloak contrasted with the dark of the foliage. The odds were slim, but hell if they were slimmer than rushing down there with a fool's dare in mind.

Whether he was being followed by the girl, he didn't know. Whether the troops below had spotted him, he had no clue. Whether anyone was honestly making any headway in that battle, he didn't care to find out. The only thing that mattered right now was making it out alive, because no matter how desperate for leadership the average civilians of Ghale could become, there was no use whatsoever in the corpse of a dead heir.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Alice in Wonderland on Fri Jun 01, 2007 6:52 pm

Turning her head to look after Dusk as he fled, she felt her feet shift uneasily underneath her. Looking back over the crowds of troops and the barrage of arrows raining down into their ranks, she decided her chance of survival in combat would be minimal. Gripping the pole of her weapon, she raced off after him, trying to attract as little attention to them as they went. Unfortunately, not all the troops were caught up in the onslaught of the Vykens arrows and a small group of the would-be heroes gave chase.

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Edge on Sat Jun 02, 2007 1:58 am

Gent rushed between the trees and the nearly clipping arrows. He could hear it and feel it in his blood. Who ever had summoned the staff spoke the old language of arcadia. He sought it out like a man dying of thirst. Gent kept rambling. He had to keep moving, ducking and weaving as he went. He was panting, his lungs working harder then they had in a long time. But as another arrow grazed his arm, Gent banished the last thoughts of stopping or trying to take a break behind the trees. Cursing all the while, Gent made his moves as carefully as he could without slipping. Then he saw it…

The girl and…

“An alabaster cloth…” It suddenly dawned where there once was Dusk. “Run damn you!” Gent said hoarsely. “Godspeed.” He stopped and hid behind the tree trunk, doubling over as he struggled to breathe. Had this been Robert or someone else in better shape, it would have been no problem at all. But Gent was a mage, weak in body but strong in power. He was easily tired as he ran on his unnatural legs, chasing after something that was such a faint hope, if this person was as rumored…

“There is a task I set to you… to earn your desired… freedom from this family.” Talvyth said as he paced the door room, his kimono barely making a sound. “Find the heir… protect him with your life… and if you can, bring him to this haven. For that you shall no longer bare the burden of the name Al’Doran or Al’Soran… I have granted you permission to attend this school… under these conditions. The others will teach you his appearance.” Gent had made a move to leave, but Talvyth’s voice lashed out one mor etime.

Gent… know that until that day comes, you are bound to me. To my service to do as I please with you.


It had been before Gent went away to school; a spliced thread of fate, for Talvyth also swore him into the Bellringer service. But as Gent chased after his promise, he wasn’t aware that Destiny had another hand to play for him. For not so far away the ever strong Bellringer squad was coming. They flew over the trees, their cloaks gaining the winds and lifting higher for brief periods, their white masks in perfect placement as they flew. Like shadows they crossed the land. For days they had been traveling, since the night their lord went into his fiery temper. And so they came and they sought out one among millions.

The group came from the north east of the valley. Knowing they were being spotted by the Vykens did nothing to slow them down. Hopefully the Vykens would remember some of the treaties with some of the tribes and leave them be. For the air was the Bellringer’s fastest means of travel and the fewer arrows in it, the better. But they took the risk and flew with the arrows till they landed at the edge overlooking the field. Then they went to the trees to seek cover.

Were they too late? They looked ignoring whoever saw them.

Already it appeared that the army was started to take prisoners. The sun was dying… The shadows of Lain moved swiftly like over ground night horrors they swooped down and leapt straight into a shadow- were horrified soldiers would later tell of figures with white faces sinking into the very ground itself as if it were no denser then water. But as for where the shadows came out…

Gent tripped over a root of a tree, yanking his invention out of alignment. Falling Gent braced himself for a steep impact… He closed his eyes and crossed his arms ready to hit the dirt and sharp brush.. Already he could feel the cloth of his robes tangling… but… Gent opened his eyes…

He was restrained…

His eyes met five other pairs all looking at him semi amused as they finished slinking out of the shadow of a tree. Gent nearly screamed in white hot furry as he could almost see Dusk escaping into the evening… But then one of the Bellringers reached out and pulled the Fox mask… Gent’s chosen animal and slide the mask over Gent’s face.

“Others are coming mil’lord… We best move thee.”

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Marten on Sat Jun 02, 2007 12:13 pm

A wave of unease swept through the Vyken ranks as each of them felt the earth being displaced within the camp's midst. Unfamiliar scents filled the air, intermingling with the acrid stench of the Ghalerion army, adding to the Vyken's sudden apprehension. One of the scents was something that they only recognized in small amounts and that was when they had bartered some of their wares for various items imbued with magick, an art the Vykens were incapable of. The other was one that caused their fur to bristle; it reeked of both magic and that of stagnant air one breathed when caught deep under the earth.

Etien's nostrils flared as he lowered his bow long enough to raise the horn to his lips once more and give a second command, informing the others to continue attacking yet stay on their guard. Grimacing, he turned to Isiwen and spoke sotto voce, knowing just how fine Vyken hearing was.

"They've summoned some... thing. I fear we shall not go without losses now. Keep your hand steady until you've emptied your quiver."

Seeing Isiwen nod as he continued to fire, Etien turned his thoughts to their newest target. He knew that the army would bring mages with it, but he did not expect them to be able to bring forth creatures with little preparation. Gritting his teeth, Etien took up his own bow once more and began to fire as the sound of large forms slithering over the valley floor met their ears.

"May Leaf and Tree be with them."

***

Lyca's muscles felt as if they were set ablaze by the effort of firing arrow after arrow into the massive camp. She had never thought that she would be called upon to defend her home. It was true that, like all Vykens who come of age, she had been enrolled in the House of Arms and taught all of her people's arts of war, from stalking prey (which came naturally to them but needed to be refined) to learning how to wield the Vyken weapons of choice; bow, axe, sword and claws. But, she had not yet finished her tutelage. The anxiety she felt only increased as the second message from Commander Etien reached her.

She had been partnered with Karn, one of the House of Arm's riding instructors. He was nearing the age where he would no longer be called upon in an hour of need such as this, but he fought with more vigor than Lyca could muster.

"Pay attention, girl!"

Startled to her senses, she noticed that she had lowered her bow and was about to be ravaged by an enormous serpentine beast. Her eyes widened in horror as her grip loosened for a moment as Karn pushed her aside only to be caught within its jaws. The sickening sound of snapping bones made her felt nauseous, but Karn was not finished yet. He dug his claws into the serpent's eyes as he snapped at it with quivering jowls, barking between fruitless bites.

"Beneath-the-jaw! SHOOT IT!"

Nocking an arrow, Lyca closed her eyes as she released the arrow, the resounding thud of it hitting home causing bile to rise in her throat. She knew better than to stop, though, and continued firing until she no longer had anything to shoot. Opening her eyes, she saw Karn's lifeless form slumped over the basilisk's head as it toppled over, thick blood flowing forth from around the arrow's shafts.

"Karn..."

***

"We withdraw, now!"

Etien sounded his horn once more as he began to move through the boles of trees while others leaped into the trees and began to move further into the weald, withdrawing into the shadows.

The command came after two seperate reports were given of Vyken losses and the death of what had caused them. As was customary with Vyken warfare, they carried their dead with them as they retreated.

"It has begun..."

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Re: Harborym Valley

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Sensha on Sat Jun 02, 2007 3:11 pm

Sensha powered through the forest, the sounds of arrows flying past him not even making him twitch. He knew no normal bow had enough power to even dream of piercing the leather armor he wore especially for occassions like this. Anything less-then razor sharp and a massive driving force behind it might as well be a club to him.

Soon Sensha arrived at his target, and came to realize that dusk, himself, and that girl were no where near the only ones in this forest. There were the troops, yes, but there were also another group of folks he had yet to see. One looked vaguely familiar, but he probably had only seen him in ghale at but a glance. The rest he had no idea were. It mattered little who was who at the momment. Right now was his time to have fun, and anyone foolish enough to even glance at him with intent to kill would be on his list.

A wicked grin, the same one that he showed dusk, came upon him as soldiers drew their swords in confusion by the man he recognized slightly. They were worried about vykken, but some saw Sensha and thought differently for a few momments. After all, what man would wear such dangerous toys on his arms without the intent to kill?

He launched forward, his first strike so frighteningly graceful that some men didn't bother to put up their swords and ran. Ryu lashed out, cleaving his first victim clean in two and sending the halves spinning off into his comrades. Next, Tora came up in almost an upper-cut that went underneath the bottom lip of a man's breast plate and into his rib cage. It only took a shake of Sensha's arm to shred the poor soul's insides and brush him off like an insect. Sensha became almost a whirling death machine(man that sounds corny), dead men flying every which way. Those that did not run or put up a decent fight were put to death in seconds. This was how Sensha had survived for over 100 years as an assassin, his power to induce fear from just carnage was like a mother's power to sooth a crying babe...it came naturally.

Momments after Sensha started his 'fun', something slammed into the back of his shoulder that sent a wave of pain over him that he hadn't felt in years. He glanced at the arrow protruding from his back, and his grin widened. The vykken the men so feared were here, and apparently they had some very interesting toys.

He left the arrow in, knowing it had not hit any vitals so it was probably an accident. He was, after all, helping them dispose of these intruders to their lands.

Something else caught his eye, however, that he did not like. The sudden pillar's of serpent arround him were something most displeasing to him, for they were what he was often compared to. He mutch rather thaught himself as a spider or a scorpion, not some slithering thing. Funny what a mad man would think in the middle of a battle, but this was what was going through his head when a sword came down on his injurless shoulder. Sensha turned with a some-what bord expression on his face as the man started to quiver back, his sword making a loud 'Thunk' upon the armor. "Friend, you should of stayed home with such a blunt weapon as that....here, let me show what a true blade feels like!" Sensha thrust Ryu into the man's abdomen, alowing the massive blade to protrude out of his back some. Sensha smiled wickedly, the strike coming so clean and fast that he was still alive."Good bye, friend." Sensha clenched his fist, setting off a series of specially made gears that he himself rigged up to his Ryu, and the massive singular blade split into a wide arch of 5 smaller blades...this, ofcourse, made the soldiers corpse shred into pieces that flew in every which direction, covering Sensha and the soldiers around him in gore. Sensha didn't mind, he knew there would be much more on him before this battle was over.

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RolePlayGateway is a site built by a couple roleplayers who wanted to give a little something back to the roleplay community. The site has no intention of earning any profit, and is paid for out of their own pockets.

If you appreciate what they do, feel free to donate your spare change to help feed them on the weekends. After selecting the amount you want to donate from the menu, you can continue by clicking on PayPal logo.

 

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