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Drumas

Wielder of Death.

0 · 57 views · located in The Ruins

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Aderas

Description

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So begins...

Drumas's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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A titanic battle had begun in the Ruins.

Four figures were involved in a veritable free-for-all, though two distinct sides had clearly begun to form.

On the one hand, there were two powerful Daemons, unleashing the full might of their powers against the two other beings. They were brutal, gruesome monstrosities, who had been denied an easy kill. Now they sought blood, by whatever means.

Then there was an Ork. Compared to the other three figures, he was horribly outmatched, but with his mighty axe, he still sought to cleave any creature he could get through the armor of.

And then, there was Nid'Ridras.

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When he had first found the clearing, there were no Daemons. He and the woman had been alone, and the Ork had arrived, just as he had planned him to. Moving against him- for he seemed but a man at that time- he did battle, briefly, with the Ork, before he intended to make his escape.

He did not expect the Daemons to appear. Born of a rift in reality, they had arrived from another place. Whether they were from his own former-home, or simply passing through, it did not matter. They were clearly hunting his charge, and so he had to stay.

He also did not expect the Ork to stay, even after Nid'Ridras had transformed into his true shape. A simple mortal against so many creatures of God-like power, there was little to nothing he could hope to achieve.

The woman had escaped, at least. She would need to survive, if his master's prophecy was to be foretold. And so, Nid'Ridras bought time. He was by far more powerful than any of those in the area, but against two powerful Daemons, he would have trouble.

Attacking the one closest to him, Nid'Ridras howls in fury, spewing molten flame at the creature. Fire would do nothing to them, he knew, but his attack would slow it down once the contents began to cool.

Unrelenting, he propels himself forward, scything with his massive talons. The Daemons had range with their weapons, but he had sheer ferocity.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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Grogthall was in deep, bloody excrement. And he damned well knew it, too.

It all started with him trying desperately to find Selwen, who he had been tracking down for hours. She had gone in search of the Warfighter, and Grogthall had been stationed in her patrol zone long enough to feel the subtle shift in temperature, often associated with a Demonic incursion.

He'd found her with one of their Arch-enemies, Nid'Ridras. He had never encountered the man before, but he had heard tell of his combat prowess. If he was a Demon, then Grogthall's lost Clan would know honor that day.

They had fought for a brief time before the true Demons showed up, and at that point, Grogthall knew he would have to shift his priorities. The man had turned into a bloody Deeps Dragon, which meant Grogthall was significantly underarmed to deal with just about anyone there.

Still, he could be a tenacious thorny bastard when he wanted to be.

He was engaged with the smaller of the two Demons, thankfully. That did not mean it was any less threatening. With a blade of fire, Grogthall could not hope to block a strike; he had to rely on his dexterity, which was hardly his strongest suit. He would strike, when able, but mostly he was playing a dodging game.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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#, as written by Aderas
Drumas and Vashal would not be denied. Powerful creatures that they were, they had been bound for too long. Released, they sought absolution. Only the power of the First could grant them what they wished, and so, they hunted them.

When they had found their prey, they ended up in a battle more of wills than of skill. An ancient Dragon, and a simple, deviously evasive Ork. The two Daemons had chosen their targets and warred.

Drumas was the greater of the two Daemons, and so he fought Nid'Ridras. They were matched in size and speed, but Drumas had the advantage of range- at least, by his blade. When the blast of molten stone was expelled from the Dragon before him, he blocked it with his wings. It would harden and be an annoyance before long, but he needed to remain mobile.

The Dragon had rushed in to strike at him; he retaliates with a powerful left hook, seeking to force the Dragon away from him, but the speed of his foe had outmatched him in this case, with two powerful talons raking against his armored hide before he can use his powerful wings and feet to kick the beast away from him.


Vashal was having more fun with his prey. The Ork would not be able to do anything significant to him, and so he toyed with him, slowly backing him into a structure of the ruins, blocking his attempts to get back to the main field. A deep, cruel rumble of laughter escapes his throat as he goes in for the kill, thrusting with his flaming blade.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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#, as written by Maree
There was a lullaby playing in Neria's head. It was a beautiful, exotic, melancholy tune. The woman weaved around and hopped over several boulders, rocks, and stones. She had to duck once or twice to avoid notice from the miniature war. Neria's balance was excellent, a dancer on the furthest arched walls of the ruins, or what was left of them.

The blue eyes of the tribal woman watched as the Ork was being backed into a trap beneath her. It would have been very prudent for the attacker to look up but he seemed preoccupied and did not. Behind her mask, Neria smirked. A good warrior did not have tunnel vision. They were always aware of what was happening around them, big and small.

It must have been at least thirty feet below her that the Ork and the other demon creature were fighting. Neria arched a brow as she leaned against a stone. It was precariously balanced and with a little push it would fall a long way. It was a heavy stone but leverage was key in a situation such as that one.

Using her enchanted blades, Neria crafted the proper leverage she needed in order to move the giant rock. The unbreakable steel allowed the much smaller woman to shove the rock off the wall. If Vashal did not bother to pay attention to what was above his head, the creature would soon be crushed.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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The powerful strike brought against him causes Nid'Ridras to back away before he can unleash the full power of his own melee. He had been harmed, if only slightly, and that allowed him to further feed himself with rage.

Bellowing a wordless phrase, he rushes in again; this time he was much faster, almost invisible to the naked eye. A human, or even an Elf, would find him almost untraceable.

It was a dance that would require him to make a precise strike. The Daemon was powerful, and fast in its own rite, and could probably still track and strike Nid'Ridras if he was not careful. Finding the metaphorical chink in its defenses- an over-extended footing- he lunges from the side that the Daemon could not immediately strike from.

Tackling the beast to the ground, he attempts to rip its guts out with his massive talons.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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#, as written by Aderas
It was almost too easy, Vashal would think to himself, slashing and thrusting with his blade- neither armor nor weapon would stop it if he found his mark. A massive, vile grin was plastered on his face as he finally cornered the dumb beast. He raises the weapon high, ever a creature for dramatic affect, and then-

He hesitates, sensing danger. Raising his head to look up, he roars in fury as the massive rock descends upon him. Forcing himself back with his wings, he barely evades it... almost. The boulder crushes his leg from the shin down, pinning him to the ground. With a furious roar, he spews evil words every which way; parts of the ruin around them crumble from the sheer hatred he levied against life in that moment.

---

Drumas had barely missed the charging Dragon with his blade- he felt the scales glancing his mighty weapon away, even as he was brought to the ground. The Dragon had him pinned, but not for long; even in this posture, the Daemon was a terrible threat.

Lunging up as far as his mangled torso would allow, he bites into the Dragon's neck, drawing blood before kicking the monstrous figure away and making a desperate slash with his blade; his belly had been destroyed. It would heal, but he was in serious danger, if the Dragon intended to continue- or if it could continue.

He was about to press his assault when he hears the roar of his brother, then a satisfying crunch. Followed by a less satisfying roar or anguish that would make a mortal's head hurt.

Growling in fury, he rushes to his Brother's aid. If he had somehow come to harm against the Ork, they would need to retreat and recuperate.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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The Fist of Agramak had come to Grogthall's Salvation, he was certain. He did not know by what device the large boulder had suddenly dislodged itself from on high- and truly, he did not care. It thwarted his adversary's attack, and provided him a chance at one.

Rushing forward and preparing his mighty Battle-axe, he bellows an inhuman warcry of his own, side-stepping the Demon to get behind it, and lunging onto its back. With the fury all Orkish warriors could call upon, he lays blow after blow against the mighty creature's back; if he was lucky, he would mangle its wings, the only means of travel it would have had left if it lost its leg. If not, he would cause it some serious pain.

His onslaught is ended by a word of pain finding him. Blood practically bursts from his nose, mouth, and ears, upon the Demon's back, as he loses consciousness and finds himself collapsing onto the ground.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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#, as written by Maree
The odds were looking down for those on the defense. The dragon seemed to have an advantage over his opponent before teeth were sunk into his neck. The rocks beneath her feet trembled. Neria used her acrobatic skills and ran over the top of the crumbling wall. She perched on a lone pillar. Her location was compromised and Neria had no doubt that she was able to be seen now. It did not frighten her.

Neria's eyes shifted to the Ork down below her. He fell down unconscious.

Sand dripped from Neria's fingers as they held onto the blades.

And then suddenly out of nowhere a storm of sand surrounded the ongoing battle. The wind was blowing dangerously around them, turning the sand into miniscule projectiles. The sand was not meant to damage but to blind. The enemies standing against the Ork and the Dragon were the only affected by this mystical storm of sand.

Nid'Ridras and Grogthrall were unaffected and possibly left with a very helpful advantage.

Neria was nowhere to be seen.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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The Titanic creatures would seem to only retain their advantage for so long. As the sandstorm whipped and tore through the ruins, their howling winds and blinding soil would mask an even larger, more menacing approach. Only the deafening thunder of engines seemed to pierce the thick fog of this strange anomaly.

---

"Frak, DRADIS Is useless in this soup, Scanners are gummed up, and we have negatives across the Spectrum Scanners." Executive Officer Milos Tsoukalos, a stout Tauron man complained, while the Commander of the AHSC Reverence 'Nascent Echo' watched the tactical screen, the large holographic display marred with the interference drawn from the sandstorm.

"Lieutenant Miksa, switch all scanners to X-ray and Magnetic, throw up the readout on the tactical displays." The Commander ordered, and the Lieutenant quickly followed suit. "Making compensation and adjustments... DRADIS Contact, large creature on the ground bearing quickly, it's tearing up the place!"

The Commander grinned, and then tapped the console. "Action stations! AI Tactical ready!" He called out, the flickering blue-violet hologram of the AI Quickly appeared to greet the Commander.

"Commander..." She addressed, while the lighting faded from violet to a darkened red, a crystalline alarm began to blare, while men ran to their stations.

"Forward Turbodisruptors primed and ready, five shots, hit that thing in the back."

The Dragon would be the first unlucky target, as the ship elevated itself with a deafening crack, a single bank of massive Turbo-disruptors swiveled on their turrets to bear aim.

"Firing solution attained..." The AI Advised, and the Commander nodded.

"Commence fire."

There was a series of deafening cracks, akin to thunder, green flashes of light pierced the thick sandstorm from the heavens themselves. They numbered five, five brilliant bolts of green light, leaving vaporized atmosphere and sand in it's wake, all seared towards the Dragon's form, each beam carrying the impact and energy of fifteen thousand pounds of TNT, or fifteen kilotons.

Perhaps they would, then and there rend the form asunder, or at the very least, garner it's attention to the behemoth of a ship above.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: The 275th Imperial Legionnaires Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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Nid'Ridras had lunged backwards when his throat was nearly torn out by the foul Daemon, receiving only a minor hit from its counter-attack. Growling in rage, he had only a moment to assess his wounds; his neck was bleeding freely, but he had avoided a killing blow just barely. The Daemon's blade had also finally managed to cut through his hide, leaving a sickly welt.

Then the Daemon turned his back on the Dragon, which was a crucial mistake. He was about to lunge into the attack again, before he senses danger.

A combination of factors saved his life from the barrage coming out of the sky; his own natural agility, the concealing sand, and the fact that his assailant had been hit by some other thing. The massive bursts of power tore the land around him asunder, and as he looked skyward, he could see a massive metal behemoth.

Nid'Ridras knew then that he was outmatched, wounded as he was. He could grow himself to contest it, but he would undoubtedly be greatly wounded in the battle, and that would be a pointless one.

In the moment of distraction afforded him- and the debris kicked up by the barrage from above- Nid'Ridras reshapes himself back into human form. He looked a terrible mess, with a gouge in his throat and a cut across his belly, but he would live longer if he escaped on foot, rather than attempting by air.

The Ork was on his own.

And so he rushes through the ruins, quickly disappearing from sight.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: The 275th Imperial Legionnaires Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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#, as written by Aderas
Rushing to where his brother was pinned, Drumas bats futilely at the sudden onset of sand. When he could see well enough, his Brother was swinging his flaming sword wildly, trying to find and slay the Ork that had mauled his back. It looked gruesome, and would scar nicely, but he would still be capable of flight.

A sudden crackle of energy, followed by a number of booms, resounds behind them. Drumas snarls and looks skyward; a beast of steel, like the Dwarvish Dreadnaughts, floated above their battleground. It had unleashed a salvo of pure light upon the place he had just been. He hoped the Dragon had been obliterated by it, but if the Dwarves, or something like them had come, then he knew they would not take kindly to a Daemon.

Turning back around, he grabs his brother by the hand and kicks the stone from his leg with his own. Calm yourself, he orders.

Vashal looks at him sharply. The bastard stung me, harmed me. Called a stone upon my form. His bloodlust was overcoming him, clearly.

Lifting him and slamming a fist against his back, Drumas fills him with an unholy energy, briefly, repairing his spine enough to get him moving. Go. I will catch up to you. We are outmatched, at this juncture.

Vashal did not like this, but he submitted to his brother. He was, after all, the Greater Daemon among them. Hovering inches from the ground, he propels himself through a wall and makes his escape through the ruins.

Drumas did not plan to escape, yet. Looking towards the ship, he aims his blade like a point, then, using his own powerful wings to send himself skyward, he charges.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: The 275th Imperial Legionnaires Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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Grogthall sits up, half blinded by pain and sand. The Daemons had left, at least for the moment, but the stone of Agramak still lay where it had felled the Daemon. Crawling to it, he wraps an arm as far around the rock as he could before closing his eyes. Agramak had always been his favorite God, and he had smiled upon him, that day.

(Don't really have much else to do, what with the current goings on...)

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nid'Ridras Character Portrait: SOLCOM Character Portrait: The 275th Imperial Legionnaires Character Portrait: Neria Imat-Rak Character Portrait: Drumas Character Portrait: Vashal Character Portrait: Grogthall

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The Nascent Echo ceased fire upon the Dragon once it took fire from the incoming Valkyrie gunship. The ship rocked and jerked as the ordinance impacted the armored hull of the Aschen vessel, which was stopped cold by the thick, reinforced Kanvium hull. However the crew and the Commander of the ship was made acutely aware of the attack.

The AI Advised the Commander of the attack, and the Crew was shouting in panicked shouts.

"We have X-ray and Magnetic contact through DRADIS, seems to be a small transport craft, they've opened fire and we've sustained minimal damage." The AI Explained, and the Commander nodded. "Topside Turbodisruptors, and Flak cannons, power to missile silos as well." He ordered, while the icon was highlighted a brilliant red.

While Drumas ascended towards the Aschen vessel, he remained largely undetected, and the closer he got to the Aschen ship, an opening would become evident, a massive and gaping hangar bay. There were humans in full combat gear as Drumas approached, their forms and various fighter craft could be made out, one of the men pointed up to his form.

It wasn't a moment later, that the Hangar bay crew mounted rotary plasma cannons on railing at the edge of the bay, and they began to open fire, sending shimmering bolts of green and blue energy searing up towards him in a thick cloud of weapons fire, It was possible to board the vessel, but to do so would require nimble moving.

---

The Command crew of the Aschen vessel was too distracted to notice the oncoming Daemon, detached from the Hangar crew and concerned with the more imminent threat.

The Reverence began to return fire, large banks of weapons focusing and aiming towards the lone gunship, and sending out a thick cloud of ordinance, high-explosive flak, a fusillade of Disruptor and plasma shots, and a bank of AI Guided missiles launched from a pair of missile racks on the aft section of the ship. The Valkyrie would have an obscene amount of firepower leveled at it from this massive Aschen vessel, swatting at it like a fly.

Setting

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#, as written by Remæus
The Butcher of Wing City snarled a foul howl, echoing into the night as he arrived back upon the mortal plane. His boots crunched into the familiar hunting ground, carrying him forward into the darkness to find a new victim.