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Undead Monsters

Various undead creatures which seek to kill mortals.

0 · 528 views · located in Aslund

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by ColeMaibara, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description


An undead army that only wishes to watch the world plunged into darkness.

So begins...

Undead Monsters's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Undead Monsters
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  1. Just go ahead and ignore this post.

    by ColeMaibara

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Lumbering hulks of rotting flesh stumbled about the midland. Their eyes weren't set anywhere specific with the only single-minded goal being to satisfy their never ending hunger for death. Sometimes for an undead, it wasn't feeding on flesh or blood. It was just the satisfaction of watching the life drain from the eyes of a living being. That husk of life-giving energy possessing an uncorrupted soul being relieved of the one thing the undead would never have: a pure soul. While most were soulless beasts, those who possessed them (such as ghosts which were entirely made up of spiritual energy) were corrupted and formed into being monstrous fiends. They were no longer pure, they were tainted by an unholy virus.

Within nearby towns, cities, and residences a message was sent. A quest if you will for all able-bodied adventurers.

Purge the lands of these roaming undead. They have been attacking people, innocent travelers, and adding them to their ranks. A reward of 500 gold will be issued to those who can slay the entire horde.


It was a message out there to all would-be heroes. A calling...'fate' for some, and 'just another job' for those other more grizzled veterans. While the quest gave a location, it gave no indication on who was to take it - newcomers, or vets. Still, one thing was for sure. They sought those of 'pure hearts', or at least pure enough to kill roaming undead.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yvandír Vythari Character Portrait: Undead Monsters
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Yvandír was wrapped in his cloak, feet up resting on the chair opposite him behind him laid in the shadows of the dimly lit room his 10ft long nose tip to tail direwolf, the beast armoured in a silvery plate mail armour, Yvandír stood from his table and left the coinage upon it. “come Fenris, we’ve a hunt to begin.”

The Dire wolf stood up and plodded after the Ranger, easily manoeuvring its large bulk through the inn, as they came to the entrance the sound of a man yelling hysterically could be heard coming up the road, the half-elf stepped out onto the porch and the raving man collapsed to his knees heaving in air, Yvandír gracefully moved over silently, his steps making little to no sound, and knelt down by the man.

“where did you last see the horde?” the man looked up in shock. “how did you know?” Yvandír chuckled and retorted calmly “i could hear you about two miles out, clearly anyway” he extended a gloved hand and dropped four platinum pieces into the man’s hands “get a drink and something to eat after you warn the local guard.” the man looked at the gleaming coins “thank you...but the horde they’re about twelve miles from here...i lost my farm to them”

Fenris stopped next to his master, Yvandír would mount his companion, sitting into the exotic soft leather saddle. “then peace be brought to your lost ones and damnation to those that cursed them”he kicks the dire wolf forward and Fenris takes off, twice as fast as any normal direwolf of his size. As he rode he dropped his hood and left the cloak to bellow back, reaching for his longbow.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yvandír Vythari Character Portrait: Benjamin Crux Character Portrait: Undead Monsters
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#, as written by Marcus
The hill was large and seemed to take what felt like hours for the hefty transmutationist. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face which he quickly dealt with only to then gaze upon the horde that was the undead menace. the heavy set wizard seemed impressed as he began to stroke his beard in thought whilst he grasped onto the massive dragons tooth which he used as a staff.

"Well this is something impressive." He thought aloud to himself as the shambling pack bellow would remain ignorantly unaware of his presence. Slowly Benjamin checked over his spell component pouch only to grimace as he knew he would need to hit up the market stalls later if he wanted to make a bigger splash than he already planned on.


The opulent transmuter raised his staff slightly above his head and gave a strange gesture with his free hand as if tracing several runes out in the air before him. "Ixen vur ternesj. slemon wer edar ekess sia geou." It was with those words said that he slammed the butt of his staff against the ground sending tremors down the hill and towards the undead horde creating large crevasses for the mindless abominations to fall into. It was a move like this which would grant the transmuter some time before he can launch another spell.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yvandír Vythari Character Portrait: Ductu 'Sanctus' Myrkul Character Portrait: Benjamin Crux Character Portrait: Undead Monsters
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In the distance there was a glint of silver moving periodic as if rising out of the ground on its own. It had the smell of rot and iron custom to many zombies but it was certainly not their custom for a bloodied head to stand, look around the hole, then return to its business. Dirt would resume its arched pitches from the bottom of the hole. Holes in its flesh as well bitten away then replaced with leather and mithril in places just enough that the meat still operated properly. At least for now.

It was only slightly less exhausting using this undying meat than digging this with her own hands but Sanctus did promise the humankind that they wouldn't roam as a zombie. She wasn't, unfortunately, able to get her out without the human's injured frame being swarmed. Sanctus was stronger than whatever tainted drive kept it animated but that didn't help her saiety. A good host able to swing her weapon while impressed upon them apparently wasn't particularly common.

The zombie swore as it worked as the animating creature, Sanctus, had a habit of talking to her hosts whether dead or not. In this case the irritable chatter made worse by circumstance, "I need to find a good small human-sized sword. Humankind, you couldn't swing my sword to save your lives."

The leather and mithril patched zombie stopped digging to go slack and stare at the sky. The rent face grimaced at zombies stumbling over the edge with a rumble of earth into her new grave. The voice gurgled and spat angrily, "Now I have to bury you all. And this other humankind too. Good for you both. How grand for me. You didn't know but there were four others before you and four graves. All I can find to stab tainted with your hands are large bits of tree flesh!"

The zombie's voice was haggard while back to working but some speech got out properly. The sound still was clear someone calmly made an effort to talk through it, "How did you all know my name anyway! Only the basal planes know. You all should have known how to carry a sword at least. How are you even alive in this place without such knowledge! I'm hungry already now that your body has stopped working."

Little did Sanctus know that some miles away a cleric's home remained mostly intact. Perhaps a shambling strongman inside was the one nicknamed 'Sanctus'. By herself she was adept enough to dance around such biters should they even care to bother about the inorganic creature wearing a very recently birthed zombie hidden in a small bushy clearing on a nearby hill.

The setting changes from Midland to Aslund

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Undead Monsters
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Deep within the uninhabited regions of Aslund, a menace of undead began to break and build up...their forces ever increasing due to an unknown necromancer's work.

The Horde...
...it hungers.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meteor Character Portrait: BRS Character Portrait: Cade Tealeaf Character Portrait: Undead Monsters Character Portrait: Hayyel Hunt Character Portrait: Selena
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#, as written by Sigurd
Long long ago, during the Age of Despair, when the universe was dark and godless without joy or hope, during a time of chaos and war, bloodshed and fire, in a time of pure sword and sorcery, magic and nightmares when demonic forces ruled the cosmos, a single caste of champions rose from the ashes to rebel against evil and its demonic army of death and sorrows. They were known as...

The Knights of the Burnt Tapestry...


[Church bells ringing]

The deafening sounds of remote screaming villagers and panicking women and children could be heard from quite a distance away as old men and women scrambled about their nearly ruined Dark Age town, fumbling in an attempt to protect their families and livestock as young men and women tried desperately to put out the fires and lead their neighbors to safety amidst the chaos. It was no army of raiders or marauders who had caused such pandemonium, but rather a lone cambion or succubus who had singlehandedly set fire to their village and caused the deaths of hundreds, including even sentries and guards, resolving to destroy the townfolk and their small remote village in an attempt to eliminate any fleeting glimpse of hope and peace, for no other reason than to exterminate the human race, and to rid itself of the would-be heroes and knights which sought to turn the tides against her during the newfound kingdom's attempt to rid the world of evil.

The black wyvern soared down upon them, zigging and zagging between the thatched rooftop houses as it breathed fire and set the village aflame, screaming and shrieking with bat-like wings and ruby red eyes, soot black scales, smoking nostrils and menacing sharp teeth. She swooped down with her long black talons, grasping hold of a nearby cattle bull and hurling it towards a group of running villagers, crushing many of those to death who tried to escape from her unprovoked wrath of violence and destruction, showing no mercy or discrimination against the many women and children, monks and priests whose frozen bodies and solemn prayers did nothing to stop that witch's fury and atrocity as she ripped them all apart, limb by limb with tooth and nail, trying to set an example and provoke more fear and chaos, when out of the smoke galloped two lone riders on horseback heading towards the town square near her location. They appeared to be the only two people in the whole entire village who were not running away, but running towards the demon as they halted their horses in the middle of the burning ruins and dismounted hastily.

Snickering with an evil sharp-fanged grin, the witch descended from the air upon them in an attempt to incinerate them by breathing fire, but the older of the two knights simply held up his silver shield to block the flames whilst yelling at his younger apprentice to act in haste, as the other young knight held up his crossbow and shot forth a wooden bolt with a silver arrowhead which struck the wyvern between her eyes. The arrowhead did not pierce the dragon's scales, but shattered like glass into particles of silver dust upon impact, causing a small plume of glittering silver which the wyvern breathed in, causing her to be jolted from her destruction as she shrieked loudly and fell towards the ground in front of them. As she hit the ground with a loud thud, she suddenly shapeshifted quite painfully into the form of a human much like themselves, going into seizures and trembling violently before going limp and breathing heavily. Soon, she stood up and looked at the two brave heroes before her, smirking with malicious intent.

Far from her original appearance, the two brave knights could see a drastic change in her physical form as she appeared much more frail and beautiful, like a young gothic princess clad in all crimson and black with pale white skin, bright orangish red hair down past her shoulders with emerald green eyes and a tight red dress, adorned with a long dragging black hooded cape. She wore cherry red lipstick and a hint of flush peach makeup, with inch-long red fingernails and black fishnet stockings and gloves, yet no shoes or slippers as she stood up barefoot and peered at them from the center of the dusty road, letting out a heart-strickening laughter as if to let them know that she was impressed, but still empowered and beyond their control. Immediately the senior knight lowered his shield and tried to hurl an axe at her, but the powerful witch was fast enough and strong enough to bat it aside with her bare hand as the small throwing axe was hurled at her head, only to be deflected with a flick of her wrist.

"Oh look, you broke a nail... Pity," she said, examining her red nails glamorously through her black fishnet glove before suddenly appearing behind the axe thrower with magical timing and lifting him up off of the ground by his neck with supernatural strength, despite his overwhelming size and weight. She was about to crush his throat and strangle him to death when suddenly, without delay, the master's apprentice ran up behind her and stabbed her in the back with a silver dagger directly between her neck and collarbone. The witch screamed and let go of the senior knight, who wasted no time in turning around once he was released. As the evil sorceress cried in agony and turned around to face the apprentice, the older knight reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a silver net, but not before the wicked demoness was able to pierce his apprentice's chest with her sharp red fingernails. She had tried to rip out his heart, but before she could, the net was cast over her head and the older of the two knights had started to drag her down, away from her task. The young knight fell backwards and grabbed his bleeding chest, before immediately reaching for his horse saddle and grabbing the torch, tossing it to his master.

The evil cambion screamed and cried in pain, not just at the netting and restraints but also at the very touch of the silver chain links that were making her lose power as the master ordered his apprentice to hold her down when he lit the torch, producing a flame before standing over the maleficent witch and uttering his vow to send her back to hell. "Not before I take you with me," she cursed, reaching through the net and ripping out the old man's larynx with her bare hand. The master fell backwards, but his apprentice quickly took the torch and pressed it to her breast, causing the demoness to burst into flames. She let out a monstrous scream as the fire suddenly consumed her, causing her entire body and skeleton to deteriorate rapidly until there was nothing left but dust and ashes which blew away with the wind, leaving no trace at all that the cambion had ever existed.

Turning back quickly to his mentor, the young knight embraced the older master who was laying on the ground next to him, unable to speak and quietly bleeding out from the open gash in his throat. The old man looked up at him silently, nodding his head and smiling with victory before gargling on his own blood and falling limp, dying in that very position with his eyes wide open. The younger knight, named Sir Henley Kieranhart, just shook his head quietly and closed his master's eyes, embracing the man who had been like a father to him for over a decade with a deep overwhelming sadness of tears and sorrow. Henley and his master had been the very last two surviving Knights of the Burnt Tapestry, and now it seemed that the old ways were finally coming to a forgotten and sudden end after thousands of years. That night, he buried his mentor on a hill and remembered his knightly vows, thrusting his sword into the burial mound as a grave marker before saddling his horse and lifting up his hood, riding off and disappearing into the darkness over the hills and forests, taking with him the collected bounty from the grateful kingdom and the unnerving memories he had sustained from his many years of apprenticeship under the greatest demon hunter who ever lived.

[Ten years later]

A long dark haired, shadow bearded man in his mid to late 30's enters the tavern house one late evening, wearing a hooded cloak and wreaking of burnt apple wood after camping up in the mountains for some unknown time, living as a hermit or vagabond. He appeared to be a normal person, very quiet and disdain, showing no interest in conversation with very little to suggest he might be someone of immediate interest, being dressed rather roughly in ordinary clothing for the time period. He didn't appear to be anyone of royalty or nobility, looking much like a common traveler or villager as he made his way to the bar and ordered a tankard of whiskey, taking a seat at the counter on one of the wooden bar stools while keeping his head down.