Snippet #2537990

You might wonder at the question of how an eight and a half foot tall man in full plate armor manages to sneak through the woods to avid detection. Bliston would answer years of practice. However in layman's terms that meant he was the one moving the slowest out of the team, bringing up the rear, and being forced to walk in a very uncomfortable squatting stance the whole trip. It was something he groused to himself in irritation about, after all a unit can only move as fast as it's slowest member and it meant that he was having to let the rest of the team trudge a good distance ahead of him to avoid that fact. This would become a relevant problem in a few minutes.

Before that fact could became apparent however, the first of a pair of wooden platforms serving as look out post came into view. This gave the horned man pause. He knew the bandits had set up some time after the dragon attack, but he didn't believe that would have given them enough time to set up some form of fortifications, meager as they we're. None the less it was too late to rethink the plan now, so he gave a few whispered signals for the other members in the team to get into position and made himself content to just work around it.

He took a location just a fair bit behind the paladin, behind a large old growth tree just large enough to hid Bliston's bulk. The stench of holy magic still hung in the air around the holy warrior, but the daemon held back from making any dirty looks under his helmet at him. He had already shelved away his disdain for working with a zealot. "Alright," he said quietly as he scanned the perimeter of the camp. "We'll have the Vasqueran launch the first barrage there to wake them up and soften their outer line. As soon as it hits we count to three then you and I will-"

He immediately cut himself off when he felt a huge swell of heat emanate somewhere to his right. "Not yet!" He barked. But the Vasqueran girl apparently couldn't hear him over the sound of swelling flames that spouted into the sky, and by the point it was already too late anyway. The first ball of fire struck one of the platform 'watch towers', destroying it in a spectacular explosion of fire and force and eliciting a groan of frustration from the horned man. His palm fell away from where it had been pressed against his faceplate, placed there only half out of exasperation and half to shield his eyes from the flash, just in time to watch the aftermath of the second platform detonating.

"Alright, screw a coordinated assault." He grumbled, completely forgoing quieted conversation. "We're winging it from here." And like That he was up and moving. His massive armored boots thumped and clanged loudly against the super heated dirt as he ran towards and then through the molten craters left behind by the fire pillars the Vasqueran brat created. Emerging from the other side wreathed in smoke and cinders, the daemon raised his warclub over his head in one hand and let out a deep guttural roar as both challenge and intimidation.

It was all about presentation now, to convince the bandit trash that they were under attack by abominations from the abyss or some other dark foulness that strung up their superstitious sides. Anything to get them to sit up and collectively s*** themselves as they took their focus on him and his team. He waited as the next fire blast from the girl raged past him before uttering another loud bellow and readied himself for what the response too this would be. For better or worse the 'operation' had begun.