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Snippet #1459420

located in Norr, a part of The Gift: Chapter Two, one of the many universes on RPG.

Norr

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"Pray to your dragons give in to my game,
So easy to play simply dancing with flame,"


Wrath's fingers were a blur as he worked the finely tuned strings of his lute. The man's eyes constantly switched between those of the roaring Child on the offensive and the enemy's sword. Wrath had never been one for fancy foot work, but he knew how to dodge as he worked his magic. When the orc cultist came in for another slash Wrath used the mud to slide under the high attack and pop up behind him. At the word fire flames surged in a cone shape at the robed foe, engulfing him in a screaming mass despite the rain. The bright flames dissipated as quickly as they had formed, leaving behind a thoroughly scorched orc who glared balefully at his attacker.

"Be sure not to get careless, you just wasted your turn,
I suppose I should add to the pain of your burns..."


At that verse the enraged, crispy Child rushed in to maul the bard. Wrath's ghostly weapon rematerialized once more however, forming between him and his assailant to skewer the orc. A high note from his lute sent a magical command making the spectral weapon twist violently and yank, disemboweling the enemy. As the orc scrambled to push his guts back into his torso Wrath surveyed the battle. Things appeared to be going well...for all of five seconds.


"Haha!" Iriana swung for the third time upon the skull of a Child she had wrapped in the crushing embrace of her snake tail. The deep human bared his bloodstained teeth in defiance and gnashed like a savage animal before laughing in her face. The lamian woman scowled at this, and raised her weapon to deliver the finishing blow when the Child opened his mouth wide to scour her upper body with a jet of dragon fire. Iriana instinctively shielded her face and shrieked in pain as the supernatural fires heated the metal of her vambraces to a an angry red and traced burns across her arms and neck. When the fiery breath subsided the Child laughed some more, the coils wrapped around him slackening...and stared into the face of one very angry snake-woman. Suddenly her tail tightened around the man once more and with a powerful swing sent him sailing across the forest floor to crash into a tree with bone-shattering force. He mumbled and did not move again.

Iriana gasped in pain and anger and retrieved her maul from the ground. Her head whipped around at the sound of a high-pitched voice wailing so hard that the sound hurt her ears. Near the edge of the grass the halfling of the squad--she hadn't bothered to learn his name yet--was writhing in agony as five more Children engulfed the little man in blasts of dragonfire. His screams died quickly and the newly arrived Children joined the fray, immediately orienting on the nearest legionnaire: Iriana. The lamia hissed and met their charge--joined by a battered Qinn, whose plumage was alight with green fire.


Hannan rushed in at Duran and would have fallen face-first on the ground due to some unseen impedement had not the same enchanted grass wrapped around his limbs and torso. The Child roared and lashed his tail, the lamian cultist steadily tearing free of his makeshift prison. He had dropped his sword and was using his claws to rend the foliage when the first hits rained down upon him. Wet cracks sounded off in rapid succession and the lamia didn't quite register the pain until a fractured skull, a broken arm, a shattered tail-bone and seven damaged ribs burst into pain-filled life. Eyes opening wide in shock--well, eye, as the other had burst under Neira's assault--and breathed deeply to release stream of fire not only onto the nightmarian, but into the tripwire grass. Again, as if the conflaguration ignored all moisture, the grass bundle and it's lamian occupant were alight in a fireball in seconds. Hannan hissed and laughed as the fires consumed his bondage and flesh at once and lashed out with a fire-covered tail to swipe Neira away.

Another Child, whom Caine was embattled with called out in surprise as his broadsword went skittering away in the mud. The human he faced was of greater strength than anticipated. The Child breathed in to gather strength for dragonbreath which came to an abrupt end as Caine buried his own weapon into the cultist's throat. Skin bubbled and seared as the fire bubbled out of the new opening in the Child's neck. He collapsed before Caine with fire devouring it's own summoner's head.

The pair attacking Gillias stopped for a moment in confusion as the deep human managed to slice one of their throats. The human Child who was now wounded did not so much as flinch, as his harpy partner who had been stabbed shot him a knowing glance. As one they raised their palms and unleashed twin blasts of dragonfire upon Gillian. Or, more precisely, his shield. Under the combined assault the metal warped and cracked in the sudden heat and cold of the rain. It was half melted and far beyond use now...and both Children came in quickly to slash at Gillian's head and stab at his kidneys, relishing the now defenseless man's horrid luck.


"Shit, shit, shit in a basket." Sid held her bolt and tried to hold back the panic in her voice. A halfling in Wrath's squad was already dead and one of the three orcs was slumped against a tree unmoving. More and more Children arrived from the grass and woodwork by the moment. Peering through the rain, the halfling tried to count them all. She applied a shot to the spine of an arriving Child to render him a null combatant while at it. Achiru spoke a number that made his commander's stomach sink.

"Thirty. Not including the three dead. Two incapacitated." The harpy whipped back his hair and took aim, loosing an arrow that grazed an advancing Child's side. The enemy glared and returned fire with fire, a gout that came up short of the squad's position. Still, Achiru ruffled his feathers and winced at the heat. "This is not good, commander Grimsmirk."

"No shit." She had nothing more to say as she loaded another bolt and trained on another more distant foe. "Melee range! Weapons free!"

The new command issued, the legionnaires dropped their ranged weapons as one and began to engage the enemy at mid range. One enemy, a vicious little halfling whose robes were stained with blood appeared as if out of thin air before the elf Laila. "Die bitch!" The words came out as little more than a gurgle, an arrow protruding from the Child's throat. Fired roared from his palms to blacken the elf woman's legs and waist. Horrible blisters rose on the scoured flesh in moments, the attack rendering her all but immobile for the time being. The halfling lost all interest in a crippled quarry and set his sights on Talae. He whipped both curved blades around and leaped at the dark elf.

Kisikoni and Talae's original target watched with passing interest as a pair of crossbow bolts tore a slight rip in her robes, and ran up to attack--and screamed in shock when icecicles stabbed into her gut and leg. The Child behind her cried out as well, but advanced. Back at the rock the pale Beelzes smirked and patted Faera on the back. "Nice!" She raised both gauntlet-covered hands and a fel-energy permeated the air as she called upon her patron. The rain water gathered in much the same way as Faera's spell, but instantly manifested as reddish black ice jutting from the wounds of the two Children the dark elf had harmed. The ice emitted a grotesque sucking sound that could be heard even over the screams of it's victims. Within seconds the Children lay shriveled husks in the grass as the hellish ice crystals had grown. The sodden Beelzes stuck her tongue out. "Vampire Ice! Or..." she took out a pair of black-tinted eye-glasses and levelled a serious stare at her fellow. "Nos-frost-tu."


The weather was absolutely dreadful. At first Zakair had been ecstatic at the possiblity of a light shower, but this deluge was ridiculous. The elven Child shrugged and prodded his newest captive. At least that helped brighten his mood. "You're a chatty one, bug. Would you mind very much if I cut out that sharp little tongue of yours? Or better yet, put that pretty fanged mouth to a task better suited for-"

The sound of battle somewhere ahead caught the leader's attention. It seemed that the next fools had stumbled upon their doom. Zakair looked to the two Children carrying Mercy, then at the crimson-robed arcanites. Scowling, he nodded the latter over. "Attack from the air." That said, they wordlessly moved off towards the combat and disappeared.