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Smith member of RPG for 10 years

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It's a work in progress...and i'm procrastinating...I'll get to it eventually I swear!
139,672 words written.
144 total posts.
970 words per post.
13 posts per roleplay.
77 average days in a roleplay.
11 universes joined.
10.00 INK received in tips.

Basic Information

Username:
Smith
Location:
Don't look behind you.
Groups:
Began Role Playing:
0- 0-2009
Favorite Role Playing Game:
DnD
Game Master:
Yes
Favorite Setting:
High Fantasy and Futuristic

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Sat Jan 08, 2011 8:35 pm
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Mon Aug 27, 2018 1:02 pm
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Promethean

Successfully created a universe for others.

Conversation Starter

Conversation Starter

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Author

Wrote your first piece in a universe!

Inspiration

Inspiration

Another user created a post in a universe you created!

Conversationalist

Conversationalist

Participated in 10 different conversations on the forum!

Novelist

Novelist

Wrote over 80,000 total words!

Completionist

Completionist

Helped write the story of a universe that survived until the end (marked as "Completed") and was published to the Library.

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Universes

3 created.
0 active.
3 inactive.
2 completed.

Completed Stories

Revelation: The City in the Sky Completed

[Complete] The floating city of Revelation houses all that remains of the human population, drifting above a charred earth. Not all is well on the lofted landmass, however, and political upheaval threatens to overturn your very way of life.

The Gift: Chapter Two Completed

[COMPLETE] With the gods dead and dragons slowly spreading their dominion over the land, will you fight for something? Or die with nothing?

Insurrection Completed

[Closed] In a futuristic world where megacities are run by corporations with private police forces, crime runs rampant in the streets. Superpowered humans gather together, some to fight organized crime, others to take down the enigmatic MortixCorp.

Revelation: The Cure Completed

[Complete] A year after the assassination of one of its most prominent politicians, the city in the sky teeters on the brink of revolution. Those with foresight will do what they can to stop it, but will anything be enough?

The Gift: Chapter Three Completed

With gods long dead, dragons razing the earth, and mortals turning on one another at every opportunity, you must help shape the destiny of this dying world.

Universes Created

Hellbound

In space, nobody can hear you scream...or hear the screams of your victims.

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1.00 INK received for post #1444310, located in Norr:

The Jurial Plains

Laeral wasn't bad as far as nameless little towns went. Twenty or so houses of folks who have known eachother by name since the dead gods knew when, ten family-owned shops and a town hall housing a steriotypical spineless whelp of a mayor all next to wide fields of fresh crops. Probably the only reason the dreary plot of a settlement didn't die from lack of revenue was the near constant stream of travellers and legionnaires arriving for a few nights of rest and piss-poor ale before going on their way to travel seventy-something odd miles to the nearest thing that one would consider another town. In the fading light of a particularly long day Wrath sighed and leaned against the fence on which he had been perched for the last half-hour.

On a large patch of dirt road inbetween Laeral and it's fields the sharply featured man stared at the ground as if it would yield what he was waiting for. Dressed in a colorful poncho and expensive tailored pants and boots, it was hard to think that the handsome young man was the kind of person who would tear someone's head off when made to wait too long. As he was now. A call from somewhere down the road sent Wrath looking to the east, his steely eyes locking onto a diminutive figure leading a motley assortment of...he couldn't find any words to describe them yet. As the halfling leading the procession drew within earshot she flashed Wrath a bright smile.

"Miss me?" Before he could answer she waved a hand dismissively and nodded those following her over. "Line up scrubs! Time ta' meet the man who'll be bossing you around for the next three-hundred and sixty-five days of your life. For those of you who missed it the first time, I'm Sid." She said with a smirk before leaning against the fence near Wrath. She had led the latest twenty recruits for the Legion of Ashes miles from the meeting place to arrive here, and her short legs were aching. Being apart of a conscripted army made you better at marching...but halflings just weren't built for it. So the raven haired little woman crossed her arms behind her head and watched the scene before her play out as she had two times before. Almost as an afterthought Sid tossed a folded scrap of parchment at her superior officer. Wrath caught in and shot her a venomous glance before moving to stand in front of those men and women arrayed before him.

"Good evening. I am Captain Liu-Wen, and that," he said while pointing as Sid, "Is first-sargeant Grimsmirk. We lead the fourtieth legion within the Legion of Ashes. We shall be addressed as such until given permission to do otherwise. You will speak only when addressed directly. From this day forward, your lives are no longer your own. They belong to Norr. To the Paragon." Wrath smoothed out the paper he had been given and began at the front of the line. "As I announce your squad assignment, you may proceed to enter the town of Laeral. You are required to report to the Boulon Brother's Inn by midnight."

The captain glanced from the paper to the first new legionnaire. His face twinged pink as he noticed the size of the lamian woman's chest. She was half-encased in steel plate armor and flicked her viridian tail in anticipation. "Iriana Kellas. Fighter. You are in my squad." As he moved to the next, an elf, Iriana sqealed in delight and slithered off in to town. He caught Sid muttering something about big jugs. Why would she be speaking about grandiose pottery at a time like this? "Hokkun Ga'Taro. Marksman...you will be in Grimsmirk's squad. Ten more went by, four more to Sid Grimsmirk's squad and seven to Wrath's squad. Nearing the end half of the line now, he stepped up to a pair of dark elven women. "Talae Shanir..." Wrath had to keep himself from curling his lip in distaste, and could not quite keep the tone of superiority--even more than usual--from his tone. "Assassin. You're with Grimsmirk."

Stepping over to the lighter of the pair he was surprised to see that the dossier listed her as a dark elf despite her relatively fair complexion. Even more surprising was her relation to the first darkling. "Faera Shanir. Mage...what?" The captain raised an eyebrow in silent question and tentatively waved his gloved hand in front of the darkling girl's face. Her eyes did not track it's movement. The file was correct; Faera was blind. Sid smiled at her superior's puzzlement at how such a woman could have passed even the most basic tests to enter the Legion...much less make it into a combat unit. He quickly recovered from the awkward silence and continued. "Excuse me." Medical mages were assigned to Sid's light-armor squad as combat mages came into Wrath's heavy-armor squad. He suspected that the siblings would not take well to being separated and decided to bend the rules a bit. Soemthing that was not lost on Sid. "Grimsmirk's team. Next..."

Another dark elf, this one male. By the Burning Dark, another assassin?! "Krealthanos Veldrin. Assassin. Grimsmirk. Go on." Trying to hide his growing annoyance with the proclivity for dark elves to fancy themselves assassins, Wrath came face to face with a man he had not wished to see in his lifetime. Sid smirked and mouthed the words 'play nice'. "Caine Abel. Berserker...frontliner, my squad. Good to see you again private Abel." Although the words rang hollow even to his own ears, Wrath was not about to let the past affect his ettiquete. Moving on was another human. Rare...there were never more than singular humans joining each legion nowadays. "Duran Cidovan. Druid...hm. We have three medics now, so you're with me." Three more. What he thought was another human came up next, but the dossier attested to the fact that he was a child of the caves. "Kisikoni Ayalen. Mixed fighter...go with Grimsmirk. She's lacking in melee capable warriors." A second deep human, this one girded with an absurdly thick looking shield. "Gileas Arkha. Guardian. My squad." Quickly he moved on to the last recruit in line. "Lailanae Korra. Special marksman. Grimsmirk's group. Now leave."

Finally finished, the captain moved to slump on to the ground next to Sid. With a profound sigh he crumpled up the dossier and tossed in at the halfling's head. She merelt smiled and nudged her human companion in the ribs. "Nice haul this time around eh?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, quite. Three generic orc meat-shields, some cookie-cutter elvish archers and--oh joy!" Sid laughed out the word 'assassin' before Wrath could finish his sentence. Still, he continued. "Oh, not to mention the angry hulk of a man that nearly wiped out our last legion in a fit of rage-"

"Hey, we won that battle 'cause of Muscles!"

"-a blind woman launching magic missles and an ex-Deep Guard. Nearly all of which are conscripted, looking for quick gold or blackmailed into service! Joy of joys." Wrath pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, speaing to Sid without looking at her. "Why do we never get assigned a normal group of trained soldiers...?"

After wincing at the bit about blackmail, the halfling patted Wrath's shoulder. "The Fourtieth is the Mixed-Unit legion. Special tactics is a nicer way of saying 'people we have no idea what to do with but can't really spare because we're losing a desperate war'. We're the leftover giblets of the cusiine that is an army."

Wrath sighed and nodded. The very reason he was promoted at such a young age was hardly due to his skill. It was because he was someone that the Legion saw potential in, but not nearly enough to train properly. No. He was to manage the rejects of the Legion. The well-dressed captain sat up and dusted himself off, making his way towards the tavern in which his legennaires were to lodge. "Make sure the wagons are ready for tommorow, and that their new gear is up to snuff. We're going to reinforce Yan'vega's legion ten miles north of here."

"Near the mountains? Shit..." Her protests died when she caught the edge of Wrath's glare. "Yeah, yeah, i'll manage. At least there's some good sniping positions."

Wrath continued on to the inn with a slight scowl. The sun had finally set and travellers still flooded the streets of Laeral. "Welcome to the Legion."


0.25 INK received for post #1473049, located in Norr:

Once the nightmarian was out of earshot, the deep human who had first entered the tent leaned back on the bed and fixed Wrath with a level stare. The captain quickly arose and made to salute but Nhil waved him off. He was weary of the formalities of the military and decided to get straight to the point. Nhil waited for the lamia noble and the elven princess to take their seats on the bed as well, but the latter preferred to remain standing. With a shrug, Nhil spoke, "Wrath. Am I still allowed to call you that? It's been a couple years since we've spoken..."

The crimson-scaled lamia was issuing a low hiss. Shokunen Helvaras, newly coronated king of the lamian nation, had a torrid temper so common among his people. Most would have avoided him entirely if he hadn't had that face of an angel. "Stop beating around the bush pale mon..." Shokunen bit back the insult and raised his hands in supplication. "My apologies general, but we are pressed for time." The dark-skinned elf nodded in agreement.

"No offense taken." Nhil smiled. "As I was saying, you have encountered magic-wielding Children. Grimsmirk sent her report a few minutes ago...they wore red, she said?" Wrath nodded. "What sort of magic are we talking? Arcane? Divine? Infernal? Did any other features distinguish them from the other Children? Do you have any idea why they are there? When--"

"How do we kill them?" it was the first Kocarah had spoken since arriving, and her words cut the air like a knife. The elven princess was thumbing the pommel of the tomahawk resting on her belt. Nhil smiled and spread his arms as if that single sentece summed up the entirety of the meeting.

Wrath tried not to finch under the scrutiny of three of the most powerful individuals on Norr. He spent a few moments trying to recall what little he saw of the spell-duel in the skies. After a few minutes of strained silence, Wrath shook his head in frustration. "I'm not sure. I saw them hit with fire and lightning, scored with talons and pierced with arrows. By the time we were forced to retreat both of them were still there...just waiting. You would have to ask Qinn or Brightwing for more information."

Nhil, Shokunen and Kocarah looked to eachother with grave expressions. Both royals disappeared with a dull flash of light and a quiet crackling sound. Only the high general of the Legion of Ashes remained, standing up and moving closer to Wrath. Nhil searched his pockets and produced a small sunburst emblem. Wrath's eyes widened, then quickly narrowed in suspicion. "You are...promoting me? Why?"

"You're talents have finally been recognized." somehow, Nhil managed to look completely serious while saying this.



Beelzes tapped her chin in thought. "Hm." It took a long while of mental deliberation, but she eventually found the words that seemed most appropriate. "That can't be safe. You can't see, and you know next to nothing of the nature of the forces you wield like an extension of your will?" Beelzes shed the first layer of her leather tunic, only wearing a thin white shift and the armored pants. She pulled up a couple chairs and motioned for Faera to sit. "Oh. Right. No eyes. Sit! I have inquiries!" Setting her chin in her palms, Beelzes stared at Faera with wide, red orbs. "Your power is obviously arcane...no spirits or animistic passes accompanied your invocations. Since you can't see and therefore cannot study a spellbook, that rules out wizard or sage. Hm. Sorcerer? Do you feel the power of the arcane flowing through your veins? Oh! Maybe a savant! Just an abnormality of a person that creates magic instead of harnessing it! Wouldn't that be fun?!"


0.25 INK received for post #1500693, located in Norr:

Gigundelarex roared in more fury than pain as the pale scales along his neck were torn open by Alistair's trident. The dragon moved with horrifying speed as it lashed out in an attempt to knock the harpy aside with force enough to break bones. Mind clouded by pain and rage, Gigundelarex launched from the tower back into the air to meet the oncoming swarm of flying golems. Having seen the demise of his kin however, the black dragon was ready for the storm. Within seconds the air above the wall became an indistinguishable blot of ebon wings, metal and sharpened edges. Blood and bits of shrapnel rained down on those combatants fighting below.

Some distance down the structure the final dragon, Jakanther loosed a hiss that sounded disturbingly close to human laughter. With a motion akin to a dog shaking water out of it's fur, the great beast shook itself free of the pinprick attacks the fleshlings were so keen on laying upon him. Jakanther was particularly intent on the pale one, who stared at him so intently...the dragon immediately recoiled in horror. It was an unfathomable fear that took root somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind, one that the hatchling knew to be irrational but was completely unprepared for.

Within three seconds the fear had lost it's grip on Jakanther and he gathered himself for a wicked roar. Having lost touch with reality in that brief period of time however, an attack on three fronts had materialized. Steaming blood hissed down his neck onto Kisikoni, a heavy blow from Mikana's enchanted hammer upon his large ankle tripped up the reptilian and the axe of one battle-crazed orc--Ferka--biting deep into his foreleg. Jakanther jerked away from the ground, beating his wings once and buffeting the troops with a gale of pressurize air. Before gaining any true altitude, thick coils clamped down on the junction between the hatchling's wing and shoulder. Turning his head at an awkward angle Jakanther stared with one plate-sized eye into the grinning face of a crimson-haired lamia wrapped around the weakest part of his left wing.

Iriana laughed and began stabbing at the joint mercilessly, careful to avoid her own scaly hide. Jakanther slammed down onto the wall from his rearing position and snapped at the lamia while swiping at Kisikoni and Talae. The dragon's hate-filled gaze was reserved almost fully for the deep human and dark elf, and he lashed out with a barrage of lightning-quick slashes. Each and any would kill them with no more than half-contact.

On the first of two flights of stairs, the only way to get up onto the wall besides the much slower ladders, Thanaros zipped from foe to foe. The half-orc a sizeable chunk of the enemy reinforcements from reaching their allies with broad sweeps of his pole axe and did not seem the least bit tired while defending a ten-foot long entrance. On the other flight of stairs a a small, slowly moving barricade had been set up. Bodies littered the stone staircase, each holding a quarrel in it. Periodically one of the enemy soldiers would peek up from behind their protection and Sid would rack up another kill from her hidden sniper position. Down below in the streets Children of Fire roared out orders for more mobilization and a small platoon of more well trained Children began climbing the wall. Each had a mouthful of dragonfire waiting to be released.



Ugh...that hurt bitch. Xeron's silibant voice invaded Neira's head once more, followed immediately by a mental crush. The attack was of a mastery the nightmarian herself could only have attained had she taken her psionics to heart, instead of as a suppliment to her physical ability. As a result she would feel a massive pressure in her skull that threatened to press her brain into a blood little ball if she did not resist well enough. The Silenced did not waste any time engaging their psychic battleground once more. Hehe...you're a fucked up little fly, aren't you?

A desert. Xeron, whole and without stitching and scars stood some three yards away from Neira in the mindscape. With obsidian skin, a shock of white hair and a flawless face the dark elf could have passed for the image of some deific being. He was donned in nothing but a red robe open in the front and smiling at Neira. In the mindscape, the nightmarian would feel twenty times heavier and five times slower. In the time it took to blink an eye the air around her was filled with a thousand red pricks of light. The psionic torture would induce pain that grew exponentially for each speck of energy she came in contact with. Xeron smiled. "Like moving through burning syrup, no?"

In the physical ream the red-clad Silenced was cloaked in invisibility once more and scaling the wall back up to Neira with his natural abilities. With Each step a scene within the battle of their minds played out, and the bitch's death grew that much closer. Without even the slightest indication of pain he finished snapping his head back into place.


Over the lip of the canyon the first forces of the main army emerged from the Akaldai. It would be only a few more minutes before they were ready to attack, but the Black Guard was on the verge of being overwhelmed. Wrath was nowhere in sight.


0.25 INK received for post #1530219, located in Norr:

Dusk, 22 Miles North of Scalescrossing

Within the tall reeds of the grassland just to the south of the enemy encampment, the first squad of legionnaires awaited their commands. Sid was absolutely furious. Of the many places that the Black Guard could have set up base, it had to be in the middle of yet another storm. Not just any storm though, no, simple rain would be too much to ask. It was one summoned by Heliotheris' Roar. A minor ability gifted to every Thane, the Roar created a supernatural thunderstorm that hindered any who entered it but the Children themselves. Not only did that make for a massive terrain disadvantage, but that also meant that at least one Thane was present. A Child with even more power than normal. Sid sighed and cleared the frost rimming around the lense of the scope on her wallarmbrust.

The halfling was shivering, her lips were blue and with teeth constantly chattering she was sure that she had nipped her tongue at least twice. The air-tight live-leather somehow did not protect against the bone-chilling cold that accompanied the rain. Through her scope--which fogged over every few seconds or so--Sid caught glimpses of the reinforcements that were supposed to liberate Scalescrossing tommorow. It may as well have been a mist-laden night for all she could see though. Sid glanced back at Achiru, Pel, Qinn, Faera, Beelzes, Liliana, Turha and Gurgen. Her squad consisted of the lighter members of the vanguard and those with the greatest ranged capability, as always. Steriotypical that the halfling got the inherently weaker-yet-clever...er...squad, but who was she to complain? Sid slipped a small black disk from her pack and pressed it to her lips.

"General. Visibility is poor at best, and the rain points to a Thane amongst the enemy. As for numbers, I managed to count one-hundred before they shifted around too much. Only one-fifth of them were Children, I think. Even with the golems our chances of harassing them too badly without being encircled, overtaken in flight or sustaining casualties..." she allowed the sentence drop there, letting the meaning of her words sink in. The response over the sending stone was immediate.

"Have your men spread out and blend in with the darkness. They may not be hindered by the rain, but the darkness hurts them as hard as it hurts us. Most of us can see in the dark anyhow. Spread out, and in a thirty-count, start peppering."

Sid grimaced and flexed her numb fingers. She gripped the stock of her crossbow and relayed the orders to her troops. "Start moving, I want a semi-circle around the camp, at least thirty meters inbetween each legionnaire. If any of the enemy units get within twenty meters, start kiting them until you meet up with the legionnaire to your right. When you here the first shouts of alarm, start firing."



Wrath's position and that of his team were much closer to the enemy body. They had a much better reckoning of the numbers than Sid did. Roughly thirty two-man tents had been set up by the dragon forces, the Children of Fire standing full-time sentry duty due to their immunity to the consequences of exhaustion. All in all, there was only seventy to eighty troops, barely a third of which were cultists. Wrat, crouching in the grass just ten feet away from the nearest tent motioned for his soldiers to huddle in close. The rain would quash any sound more than a foot away, so there was no threat of being heard.

"Alright. I count eight of us who can see well in darkness. Duran, that includes you. Just shift into something...make it fast, we want speed more than anything. Caine, pair up with Ferka. Sarish, you come with me. You two will serve as our eyes for anything further than ten feet out. Kisikoni, Neira, Talae, Alistair, Thanaros, and Mikana. You all will, for the most part, have some autonomy in this mission." Wrath unlaced a small black satchel from his belt and dumped the contents onto the ground. Around fifteen thin-necked vials of a violet liquid glistened in the low light. Within was a non-lethal, but extremely fast acting toxin: Snakesglove root extract. "Coat your weapons with this. The rain won't wash it away, so don't worry about that. We're aiming for speed here, so all you need is a nick and the count of three before your opponent is having sweet dreams.

"We will be spreading out and entering as quickly and silently as possible, the longer we keep our presence a secret, the more damage we can cause. Immobilize as many soldiers as possible before that happens, then switch to lethal force. By the time they can find even one of us in this murk you should be near the center of camp. Make a mad dash for Sid's squad and we will be done." Not really. Wrath had no intention of retreating, for he was certain that his men could take the entire reinforcement army down on their own. Unbeknownst to all bar Sid and the Mialee twins, the golems were lying in wait for assistance.

He felt the sending stone stir and received a brief message from his appointed captain, which he summrily dismissed. Wrath nodded to his fellows, ran the dripping vial over the edges of both of his tiger hooks and took up a ready position. "Go." like a gust of wind the bardic general was off. Using the speed-enhancing enchantment of his armor, he literally tore through several tents and slashed into nine soldiers, two of which were Children of Fire before the first bolt from Sid's crossbow smacked into the temple of one of the cultist sentries. No alarm had been raised yet. Wrath turned to find his next victim and continued the assault.


Castle of Nihalistrix the Black

With a throaty growl Helm brought his maul around for another swing, one that pulped the chest cavity of a Child against the wall. The marble structure cracked around the point of impact. There would be no time to marvel at this feet of strength though, for the next five cultist leaped down from the balcony above and brought their own weapons to bare. Airn, the elf, as well as Hanali the female lamia brought down two with a pair of well placed shots while Owen levelled a crimson wand at another. There was no somatic or verbal activation, but a moment later the Child he had aimed at exploded into a fine red mist and soiled robes.

The last two circumvented the brutal lamian warrior and charged the haggard-looking nightmarian. One of the cultists could have sworn he had seen that woman in the dungeons not too long ago. Helm disregarded the pair, marking them as dead. He was well aware of what Yan'vega was capable of. The mercenary captain inspected his left arm, which was blackened in some places and hissed. "I'm not sure if any other squads know about us yet, but Mass is going to end soon. We need to hurry."

The others were well aware of this, but the fact being put into words made the mercenary company steel themselves further. They advaced with all haste down the corridors heading towards the cellar where freedom was located. Just as they turned into the hall where the cellar was located however, a score of Children just released from the Black One's sermon turned the corner as well. Their initial suprise wore off once the strangely-garbed halfling shot a gout of blue flame and a lightning bolt at some of them. Helm resisted the urge to roar in frustration and brought his weapon down in a blooddy smash. The deadly combination of elf and lamian archery layed low a few of the Children before they could even draw their weapons.

They left a gap in their forward formation that blocked the hallway, one for Mercy to fill at her earliest convenience.


0.25 INK received for post #1580612, located in Norr:

With a very unlady-like grunt, Mikana yanked her hammer from the ribs of the last guardsman within the interior wall. The elf had sustained a wound along her left arm and was limping slightly, but she still had energy enough to cast a sideways glance at Caine. Since her youth in the ranks of an Ashenwood elven community, she had been told of the barbarity of humans compared to the rest of the Civil races. Out of all of them, they were the most wild and unpredictable of them all, having the greatest capacity for kindness, cruelty and barbaric acts of depravity. Looking at Caine now, it was hard for the elf to think otherwise.

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, the paladin moved into a small alcove. Within the sectioned off area a four-pronged crank attached to a chain was drawn taught. Mikana began turning the wheel and a mechanical grinding could be heard outside...



"Troops, move in!" atop the wall, Sid activated her second voice-amplifier enchantment. The gate had been raised mere moments ago and the bulk of the army was finally moving in. Around one-hundred soldiers atop the wall were to maintain their current positions. The rest, were to make their way off of the wall and assist in taking the city. Those few enemies remaining topside were quickly being put down and already the troops were chatting about victory as if it was a part of battle that came naturally. Don't count your chickens before they hatch guys...

Surprisingly, the defensive circle of blackguard was the most heavily contested part of the wall remaining. A quartet of Children were using their superior speed and maneuverability to avoid the pulping fists of the constructs and had already immobilized two of the eight. The greatest of which, a hooded orc, even matched one of the golems in raw strength. With a loud growl the orcish child locked hands with the blackguard and forced it back a step before his companions melted it's heels, sending the construct toppling over the side of the wall.

Thoroughly shocked by the lost of such a mighty creation, Thanaros scarcely noticed the healing energy flowing into him. When the pain of his wound suddenly ceased, the half-orc turned and regarded Faera with an unreadable expression. At the end of it though, he nodded his thanks and smiled before pulling himself up and hefting a battle-axe from a fallen soldier. He was about to rejoin the battle when a familiar, bellowing laugh met his ears. Thanaros visibly paled at the sound. Slowly, he turned to regard the source of the laugh: The hulking orc child.

"Brother...been a while." Junte Hellstriker shrugged off his hood and flashed an all too wide grin at his half-brother. Thanaros was speechless, his weapon slack in his hand as his once-lost brother approached through the broken line of constructs. "Oh, what's the matter little Thana? Didn't expect to see your brother, one that you left for dead, so soon?"

The larger orc suddenly lashed out with a heavy mono-bladed axe in a sweep that would have readily cleaved the flat-footed Thanaros in half had another blade not clanged against it. Ferka now stood between her two brothers, blade locked with Junte's axe and hatred burning in her yellow eyes. With customary orc strength the female forced her brother back several steps and raised her bastard sword into a high guard, regarding the sibling she thought dead during their first battle as legionnaires. She noted his cultist robes and the fervor that made him so very similar to the other fanatics. Ferka spat in derision. "You are no brother to us."

His wits about him once more, Thanaros joined his sister in the charge to engage their traitor sibling. Just before moving though, he pointed out another situation that might require Faera's aid further down the wall.

"Dead-gods damn you deep human, what is it with you and getting hurt?" Pel almost smacked Kisikoni in frustration as she began administering a mixture of healing prayers and medicinal herbs to stave off infection. She was aided somewhat by the live-leather's ability to regenerate it's wearer's wounds to a degree, but the deep human was going to have a hard time not passing out or throwing up with that much skin missing from his frame. She looked to Talae, who had finished off the last of the enemies in the immediate area and called for her attention. The halfling pointed at a nearby trio of legionnaires who were crouched over a small area on the edge of the wall. "Go with them, you'll be more useful in the assault than fretting over him. That's my job anyways..."

The three men arose from their little project with a hurrah, which was echoed at several points along the wall of Herrick. Small rappel posts had been staked into the stone and were ready to begin deploying troops speedily down into the city proper to join the rest of the army.


"Fall back, fall back to Flourspar Street!" Asera ducked another crossbow-bolt and returned fire with her great-bow, pinning the offending legionnaire to the side of a building. She took grim satisfaction in the astonished expression that accompanied the elvish man's death rattle. There was little time to relish the small victory however, as more and more soldiers of the Legion were pressing into the streets of Herrick. The elf Child had been tasked to escort the civilians that had been helping to put out fires to the bunkers where they would be safe from artillery attack.

Asera bit her lip as she urged the score of city-goers on through the alleyways, pondering the fate of her senior Blessed at the Wall. She knew that to die in service of the dragons was the highest honor anyone could ask for, but still she felt a small pit of loss well up within her chest for her friends who were most likely dead or dying. Her thoughts were cut short by a hurled spear of ice that the Child only just barely managed to evade. Down at the lip of the alley a mage of the Legion and several warriors were filing in to pursue the fleeing townsfolk. Drawing up every ounce of her resolve, the junior Blessed moved in a blur, her arrows screaming down the confined space into the legionnaires.

What should have been a slaughter soon proved to be little more than a good laugh as the arrows clattered harmlessly to the ground off of an unseen arcane barrier. The mage resumed his inexorable advance and began chanting for another spell as his allies patiently marched behind him. Aser cursed loudly and began a swift retreat. Thankfully, the end of the alley was near and the last of her wards had made it through. She peddled backwards while maintaining a steady stream of suppressive fire to slow the mage's casting. Having succeeded in that endeavor, the very moment her foot touched down on the sidewalk Asera called upon the might of the Great One's for aid.

Please, please... the fire had never come to her before, and rarely ever came to those who had not undertaken the Rite, and honestly the elf only hoped to delay the legionnaires further with a bluff. She was as stunned as the enemy when a great stream of dragonfire flooded the alley and raged against the armor of the unprotected soldiers. All except the mage and one warrior(both of whom were badly wounded) lay still on the blackened cobbles. Asera looked on in shock and glee, and almost forgot that she was on a mission. With a self-satisfactory smile the elven child turned on her heel to resume her duties as a protector of Herrick.

A gauntleted hand clasped against her mouth and slammed Asera into the stone wall with such force that the elf thought her skull split. An orc sporting wicked ebon plate stared into her eyes as he drew a dagger from his belt. Past his cold visage, Asera bore witness to the legionnaire's slaying the last of the poorly armed townsfolk she had been so close to granting safe haven. Still, the young elf's last thoughts were not of her failure, but how she would soon embrace her new gods in eternity.


So, my little fairy has learned some new tricks? Xeron dusted himself off as he arose from his perch and regarded Neira fondly. The dark elf seemed to be considering something when he finally clapped his hands and stepped out onto open air, using mental energy to keep himself aloft. Alright. For each time you impress me during our exchange, I will allow you an answer to any question I can possibly answer. Of course, I will expect the same of you. Ready? Go!

Without any visible movement a mental construct of titanic proportions came into being just behind the airborne Xeron. It was scorpion-like humanoid, something straight out of a horror novel that radiated power enough that any psionically aware creature would be wary to even be near it. Xeron had energy enough to make it bend it's house-sized head closer and grin at Neira before reabsorbing the power for later use. Xeron tilted his head and appraised her with his single usable eye with a rightly arrogant light. What is your favorite color?


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