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| Purging the Vermin; [GRP] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Thu Mar 24, 2011 12:58 pm (1,280 Views) | |
| Horváth | Thu Mar 24, 2011 12:58 pm Post #1 |
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The city of Taras, once one of the jewels in Imythess' crown, was a pitiful sight to behold these days; even more so when one looked at it through the lens of a spyglass, mused the vampire lord Horvāth as he lowered said glass and passed it back to the crewman he had taken it from. The deck beneath his feet rocked gently back and forth as the ship he had enlisted for the coming expedition found itself cradled in an early morning sea breeze. With his refined sense of smell and taste, the flavouring of salt that peppered the ocean air washed over Horvāth, and he closed his eyes to enjoy it for a few brief seconds. He had always found sea air to be some of the purest to be found; cities were filled with the stench of humans and disease, and the forests with that of beasts and wood, neither of which were on the vampire's list of favourite things. After all, what did people make their beloved vampire-killing stakes out of? "The city sleeps," he said as he continued to gaze out towards the city, his hands resting on the starboard railing, "The demons do not like to be in the open when the sun comes up." He spoke to nobody in particular; to his right stood his servant Tempel, an umbrella clasped in his hand to keep the rising sun from basking his master in its glow. Although years of prowling the Earth had helped Horvāth build up a tolerance of sorts to the sun's rays, he was far from comfortablt standing under its full gaze. Somewhere around the ship was the vessel's captain; a wolf amongst dogs, Horvāth had initially rated him, but even beasts had their uses. Mercenary by nature, the sea-farers of Imythess had a reputation for tenacity that was required when faced with the likes of those ill creatures that now stalked the ruins of Taras. With a last look at the city, Horvāth turned on his heels and clasped his hands behind his back, his eye giving a slight twitch as he did so. Before him stood a small host of men, half-breeds and all manner of mercenaries and do-gooders alike. All of them had signed up to the vampire's expedition, though he had been sure to appear as nothing more than a wealthy human aristocrat determined to rid the city of evil for his own political benefit. They all stood before him knowing that they were about to enter a world of violence and death; a world where shadows and creatures of the Abyss would descend on them en masse to deliver unto them ends that would make them wish their mothers had never bothered birthing them to begin with. To know such a future and still stand there - on the main deck in front of their sponsor - meant one of two things; those before Horvāth were either very brave or very foolish. It mattered little which, of course; as far as the vampire was concerned, either would get the job done. And the job needed doing - not for the 'noble' cause of freeing a city from demonic tyranny, no; this expedition was a matter of business. The demons that roamed Taras were infringing on Horvāth's sphere of influence - an insult that needed to be rectified and punished as far as the vampire was concerned, not to mention he found it distasteful running his operations from desolate human settlements like Kellen. At least Taras had had the pretense of propriety. The vampire community as a whole had centred itself on the port city, so another advantage of being the first to clear it out was that it would grant Horvāth even greater standing amongst his fellow bloodkind; and good standing meant great power. The mercenaries that stood before him now were simply a means to that end. "You, who stand before me now, have a great honour." he announced, his eye twitching slightly again as he did so, "You shall be heroes to countless people - innocents who have been displaced by the foul creatures that stalk Taras. But let us not lie to one another...you care not for honour or the gratitude of people who can not help themselves, do you? No, you care only for reward." At this, Horvāth drew himself up to full height, and made the nearest thing he could to a smile, "But who says to seek reward is a bad thing? The boats await you, my friends. The beach awaits you. Step forward now, and make your final preparations, for soon you shall set forth to claim the honour...and the rewards." Finishing his short speech, the vampire turned away, his eyes looking for the ship's captain as he waited for the leaders of the assault to gather around them. He would let the captain outline the plan of attack; Horvāth would only interrupt if he felt it necessary. Edited by Horváth, Thu Mar 24, 2011 1:32 pm.
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| Ahriman Lordimar | Thu Mar 24, 2011 6:07 pm Post #2 |
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The iron fist of the Mille Figli flag waved in the light of the sun, mirroring the orange sky in it's texture. It was always a strong symbol to hearten his crew, but Ahriman had to wonder the effect it had on the mercenaries? He never really cared for mercenaries much, so he hoped that it disheartened them a bit. He was sure that even with this large venture the town wouldn't be cleared out, but he could always wish a few of them had a bad day. The noble that had paid for this mission was an enigma to the pirate, something about him putting him off slightly. It reminded him of another traveler he had taken upon his ship, and that made him nervous. He would deal with it, however, and continue with the mission. A payday was a payday, and this one was pretty nice. He locked the wheel, setting the helm at rest and whistling his wordless orders to his crew. He had trained them a long time ago to understand the different pitches as different orders. And one of those whistles happened now. Anyone who had just thought of the vessel as a ship would learn soon enough that it had a few tricks of it's own. A massive blue figure cut into the sky above the ship, passing over it's sails from the skies high above before flying towards the town. The ruins of the town were just a hiding place for demons now, and he would have the thunderbird-Elnora, he had taken to calling her-soften up the beasts. The lightning cut through the air, pounding into many of the buildings near the shore. Fires could be seen from the ship, smoke billowing up into the sky. To an untrained eye, it would seem to be at random, but the bird was making a pattern. She was creating a perimeter of flames to push any of the beasts near the shore to where the men would land. It was a grim image, to be sure, but one that a mercenary had to expect. He approached the gathering near their benefactor, not saying a word before he had set a map of Taras down on one of his many tables he had laying about the helm. He drew a semi-circle around where they would land, then began drawing lines that would lead into the heart of the town, circling the town square of the old town. "Elnora will funnel the enemies into the beach head, where they don't have the advantage of ambush. When we land, We'll be hit hard, but we can cut our way up into the center of town, with Elnora covering us and Mora opening up paths in buildings and rubble to let us proceed." He looked over the crowd to ensure everyone was listening. He nodded to the nobleman, pointing at the very center of town on the map, "If you have any mark ya wanna leave on the town this would be the place to do it. I imagine ye'd like ta' put up a nice new building to mark your assistance in such a thing." He looked around at the others, and began indicating marks on the map to show the worst of the ambush points, and places where scouting had found heavy pockets of infestation. Each was marked with a different symbol, representing that each ambush would be a whole new group of whatever they were ready to face. Nothing would surprise him coming out of a place like this. Anything from demons, to bandits looking to make a home for themselves in the abandoned town. Whatever they found, however, he was sure that they wouldn't retreat until their "boss" told them that the mission was done. At least, some of them. He was quite sure he'd have no problems leaving the mission behind. It's why he insisted on the Mille Figli to run the mission, after all. The prince-turned-pirate tightened the scarf around his mouth, and excused himself. His five men waited near one of the landing boats they had propositioned just for this mission. Their things were already on board, and they just waited for the order from the captain. With a whistle, he tightened his stance for appearance sake, raising his voice, "On the boats men! Let's prepare for a battle that we won't soon forget!" Or at least, they wouldn't. He was quite sure he'd forget it after a good night's rest with some warm drink and warmer company in the Taras docks. There was never a night he couldn't bury in the 'beauty' of that place. As a final measure, the pirate made a sharp whistle, the grate at the center of the ship's deck opening almost as soon as the sound was made. He smiled as some of the men around stumbled back as a massive yeti crawled from the bowls of the ship. He had set the ship close enough to the shore so she could walk to it, though he was quite sure she'd be none too happy about it. And for better or worse, an unhappy Mora was something they'd want for any manner of battle. Edited by Ahriman Lordimar, Thu Mar 24, 2011 6:08 pm.
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| Marissa Skeates | Fri Mar 25, 2011 7:56 pm Post #3 |
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"She does look rather green, doesn't she?" "Oh yes, I think she'll do nicely for a meal." "Not enough maggots, though..." "No, but that's all right...I always carry a few around with me." "Oh, good." "Yes, very good indeed." If the pair of goblins that had somehow managed to enlist on this journey thought that the halfling could not hear them, they were sadly mistaken. Of course, they weren't exactly keeping their voices down. Goblins might well have been cunning and clever in a fight, but they were none too intelligent outside of one. However, they were right about one thing: Marissa Skeates was not feeling at all well. The notice she'd found in that tavern basement had hinted at a ship being used, but she didn't think it would stray too far from shore and she didn't think she'd actually have to spend time above-deck. For the most part, thankfully, she didn't - but everyone on Ahriman's ship apparently did their part, else they were thrown overboard. Fortunately, Ahriman had met Marissa once before. He knew what she was now, of course, but he hadn't said a word about it since she'd boarded. Her deception was clear, but it didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that she be given a private cabin, and so she had been. She had spent all of her time down there when she wasn't polishing the brig, including taking her meals. She'd been left alone for the most part and that was exactly the way she liked it, especially since she'd hurled something other than shuriken overboard every time she'd been forced to go up top. This time, though, she managed to avoid it somehow as she heard the sharp whistle from above. It was time to go. She had little about her save that which was already on her person, and she had spent a good bit of her gold (and all of her citrines) for some very fine weapons along the way. Oh, she still had quite a bit of gold on her - there had been a lot of gold to garner from Kellen - but her hedonistic nature and a small bit of greed had not allowed her to save all of it. She hadn't exactly held back, however, as she knew she'd be getting quite a reward from this quest. However, she found out only once on board exactly what it was they'd be doing - and then she'd almost jumped overboard herself. Demons? They were fighting demons?! Was the captain mad?! He seemed to be quite as mad as the goblins (assuming they really did believe she would be an easy meal) if he thought she was going to fight demons. Oh, she'd pretend to help out...but she was no demon huntress! Was a thief and occasional murderer! She was even a liar! But she didn't know the first thing about demons! Except that they were bad. Really bad. Like...making a halfling want to jump into an ocean and drown, bad... But there was nothing she could do now except answer the call. Drowning herself was just something she couldn't do. Of course, she hated the height of the ship just as much...she hated the whole flaming thing, in fact. Ahriman knew she didn't like the sea, which is probably why she'd been mostly left alone. She had gotten quite a bit more comfortable with Mora, however, once she'd gotten used to the great beast. Actually, Mora seemed more intelligent than most of the men on this voyage, even if she couldn't talk. Her, at least, Marissa was starting to like. A little bit, anyway. The air was slightly tense up top, as everyone seemed to know exactly the kind of danger they were heading into. As the captain laid out the plan of attack - only half of which Marissa actually caught, as she came up behind everyone and was a bit slow in getting to the group - Marissa tapped the pockets of several mercenaries. None of them were carrying anything of value, however, and she quickly stopped. She could tell which ones were easy marks and which ones were not, but the easy marks were carrying next to nothing and she was not about to test the new armor she'd recently acquired - masterworked Gloomwood leather with spaulders - just for the sake of a few coins. When he mentioned the boats, Marissa was half-relieved and half-terrified. What if something happened and the boats capsized? She'd be drowned! What if one of those lightning bolts she was seeing in the sky went astray and tore the boat asunder? She'd be drowned then, too! She did not like water...not for swimming. Bathing was all right and drinking was necessary, but this? Oh, no...she did not like this. Not...one...bit... But she shuffled into a boat behind two rather large and stupid fellows and plundered some jerked beef from their pockets; she pocketed it as the boat went along, rocking and lurching and...good thing she hadn't decided to eat the jerky right there, or she might never have made it to shore. But when she finally did, she could hardly wait to leap - literally leap out of the boat and onto dry ground, even if it was sand (something she didn't really like much, but could deal with). She would have kissed the ground had it been stone or grass, but as it was, she scrambled away from the shore as fast as possible. Oh, and did she mention the chicken? It poked its head out of the bag it was in now, and then struggled its way out. Marissa helped Sprackle escape and Grim peeked out to see what all the commotion was about. When he saw that the mercenaries were still there, he poked his head right back into his little hole. The chicken flapped its useless wings and stretched a bit, making quite a lot of noise; it did not like being in a sack. It liked it about as much as Marissa liked the sea, actually. But it had tolerated it - somewhat. Thankfully, its anger would be useful. And then the goblins showed up. They looked at Marissa and licked their lips, deciding to join her. She scowled deeply, which only made them grin broadly. She made a face at their yellow-and-black rotting teeth, their receded gums, their rusty nose rings and ear rings, and the nasty scars one of them had all along the right side of his face - if that hideous mask of flesh and bone could be called a face. It was as green as a night-time jungle, and so was the other one, but not from sickness. Soon, though, it would be even greener from its own blood. Marissa purposely turned away from the goblins to show that she was not at all intimidated by them - and indeed, she was not; they would be food for their own maggots soon enough - and so did Sprackle. She instead focused on the other mercenaries; they were already forming groups of their own, just as the goblins had chosen Marissa. She hoped that no one else would choose her; when she was ready, she would join a group of her own choosing. But she wasn't about to get killed by a mob of mercenaries because she'd killed two of the people supposed to be helping them. Not that goblins were people, of course...not really. |
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| Godfrey | Sat Mar 26, 2011 2:55 am Post #4 |
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Though many answered the vampire's call due to the promise of wealth and fame; the hardened, embittered warrior known as Godfrey had joined Horváth's expedition for one purpose and one purpose only: wreak as much havoc as possible on the demon hordes that resided in the ruins of Taras. He cared not for glory, he cared not for riches. His hatred for their kind knew no bounds. It was his hatred that kept him going, and as long as there were demon kind to butcher, he would not stop. His quest for vengeance may have been cut short due to the unforseen departure from his home, but his thirst for demon blood still lingered. It was odd. Only recently had he descended to this world, and he was already caught up in what would be one of its great historical conflicts. A day when the unlikeliest of men risked life and limb to reclaim a city infested by the forces of the Abyss. It would be a great victory, if victory could be achieved. There were countless hordes of nightmarish creatures awaiting the small army that had gathered on the vessel. Grimacing as the ship drew closer to the devastated city, he lowered the hood of his bloodstained cloak and looked among the rabble of mercenaries, cutthroats, and pirates aboard. Many of these men were going to their deaths, that much was certain. As the pirate captain informed the rag tag army of their attack plan Godfrey received a map from one of the deckhands. From the looks of it, he was leading the first wave. Perfect. The front line was the best place for a man like him. He relished in combat and slaughter. Nothing gave him the high that rushing headlong into a wall of adversaries did. As the men started departing for their boats, a group of brutish, fur and iron clad barbarians approached the pale warrior. He knew these were his to command. Who else would willingly follow him to almost certain death against an innumerable force? He said nothing. Instead he turned towards his boat and hopped in, the barbarians not far behind. The battle was only moments away, and Godfrey would be at the front of the assault. He could already tell he would get along well with his troops. They spoke as much as he did, which meant the trip to the shore would be in silence. As the last remaining barbarian took his place in the boat, Members of the crew lowered it to the surface of the sea. Soon, all hell would break loose in the ruins of Taras.... |
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| Asher Drake | Sat Mar 26, 2011 8:37 pm Post #5 |
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Asher was not interested in money or fame. He was here because his lord asked him to accept the proposal. He prepared for anything in Taras, knowing it has a rather large demon habitat these days. He had only just been brought back to life as his lord's vassal and he wasn't in the best shape to charge headstrong into a war, so he decided that he would try to stay reserved and in the back of the group. After he dealt with something that had been bothering him since they boarded of course. He had the strange feeling that a couple of his so called allies were demons in disguise. Walking out onto the deck with a few more hired blades. He looked towards the captain and the wealthy client they were working for. He turned back towards the hired blades. "I sense that not all of you are on our side." Aside from a few smirks the lot of them held their tongue at the accusations. Placing his hand on his shoulder he grabbed at a knot of cloth and tore it from his armor, "Horváth, would you kindly look away?" He asked their client kindly. The cloth had fallen to the ground and his armor began to glow with a holy radience. One of the men on deck with him instantly incinerated and another ran for the shore. Throwing his blade, he clipped the man in the leg and ran after him. "You're a damned traitorous spawn!" retrieving his blade, he thrust it into the mans chest and began to smite him with a basic holy spell. Not very effective in killing demons but it would burn him slowly, and make an example of any other disguised demons. When he was done burning the man, the demon. He kicked the body into the water and walked off the ship. Raising his hand to block the suns rays from his face, he walked towards the devastated city. Blade in hand his armor was shining so brightly that every small demon he walked past burst into flames. Taking a position by some of his allies. "Go forth to battle my brothers. The gods will watch over our victory here today." (OOC: I had no ideas for an intro post so yeah, This should do for me..) Edited by Asher Drake, Sat Mar 26, 2011 8:42 pm.
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| Wulfdor | Sun Mar 27, 2011 3:41 am Post #6 |
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Wulfdor stood still and silent, his hands resting on the head of his axe as he listened to the "nobleman"'s speech. The minotaur was certain that the aristocrat was far from the human he claimed to be - there was no life or warmth to gleamed from him, neither through sight nor smell. Unlike some of his companions in this effort, who seemed to be there for reasons other than the pursuit of gold, Wulfdor was firmly present for the acquisition of riches. It was true that he had no love for the demonspawn that roamed the port city, and indeed the beast-man had often pitted himself against them because they provided such good sport, but his priority remained to acquire money for his pockets. He could only go on stealing food and supplies for so long before someone decided to rally a posse and forcibly drive him away from all the settlements after all. Whereas some of his fellow warriors seemed to have had men assigned to them - he noted in particular the brutish barbarian types that had thrown their lot in with the tattooed warrior - none seemed particularly keen on fighting side by side with a minotaur. That suited Wulfdor just fine, of course, as more often than not human-sized allies simply got in the way of his wide whirlwinding attacks and swings of his axe. Nor was it completely unknown for the frenzy of battle to take the beast and see him accidentally strike down an unfortunate ally who was unlucky enough to wander into his path. Yes, Wulfdor mused to himself as the pirate captain began to outline the basic plan of attack, working alone would probably be for the better. The order to board the boats came shortly after. Like the yeti that the pirates had brought out, Wulfdor decided to forgo the small longboats in favour of simply swimming ashore. Watching as the men began to file into their landing vessels, the minotaur let out a deep sigh of impatience and shoved past them, "Stand aside, ye' oversized maggots! Ye' want to give the demons time t'have breakfast before ye' get there?" he grunted as he pitched himself on the edge of the ship. Then, with a battlecry in a tongue known only to those of his kind, Wulfdor bodily hurled himself into the sea. Hitting the water like an oversized cannonball, the beast-man soon made surface and began to swim towards the shore. His large arms and brute strength made the journey a brief one, even overtaking the longboats to be one of the first to put their boots to the sand. Shaking wildly once he was one the shore to dry himself - showering a pair of goblins in the process, neither of whom seemed to appreciate it at all - the minotaur lifted his axe and let out a full-blown roar that resounded and echoed into the ruins. Somewhere, Wulfdor mused, his challenge for battle was about to be accepted. "Go forth to battle my brothers. The gods will watch over our victory here today." cried one of the other mercenaries. "I make my own victories." Wulfdor grunted in reply, before beginning to charge forward, axe raised to meet the first demon willing to rear its head. |
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| Horváth | Sun Mar 27, 2011 3:58 am Post #7 |
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Horvāth took a spyglass from one of the pirate crew and held it up once more to scout out Taras. The inclusion of the captain's thunderbird and yeti had been unexpected bonuses, and ones that the vampire was sure the mercenaries would appreciate; it would mean less of them dying for the cause, after all. Moving his spyglass from one group to the other as the mercenaries began their approached by longboat, Horvāth smirked at the sheer enthusiasm engulfing the group. From Godfrey - the man Horvāth had witnessed fell a dragon - and his adopted band of barbarian beserkers, to the goblin-pestered halfling, right through to the dragon-born human and the tenacious minotaur, the latter two of which were amongst the first to hit the shore. The dragon-born had even taken out a few alleged traitors amongst the group; there had been no accusation levied until after he'd carved them open, of course, but Horvāth had hardly been bothered by that - the man was effective, and therefore made up for the loss of a few basic mercenaries, demons or not. It was as Horvāth was watching the halfling and the goblins that suddenly something caught his eyes; a slight movement in the ruins that would have evaded someone of mere human sight. Adjusting the spyglass, the vampire scowled as he scanned the port city, trying to find the source of what he was sure had been fully-fledged movement. He was sure the pirates' thunderbird would catch sight of it soon enough - or at least he was, until something happened that rather negated the need for a scout at all at this stage. As the first longboats were hitting the shore and expelling their passengers, a guttural roar screamed out from underneath the sand; ear-splintering and high-pitched, the scream even reached the ship with enough volume to make several crewmembers cover their ears in shock and pain. His eye twitching madly at the sudden discomfort, Horvāth lowered his spyglass - he longer needed it, for the source of the scream suddenly made itself very clear to see. Still unrelenting in its assault on the mercenaries' ears, a creature of huge size and length burst from the beach, showering the longboats in sand and shell. Only when the cloud had finished falling on the mercenaries' head was the nature of the creature revealed; a huge sandworm, its entire head seeming to be one massed array of sharp teeth and mandibles, loomed over the expedition. Blackened scars that ran across the length of the beast made it clear that it had been demonified; the demons of Taras' first line of defence had made itself known. "Were your scouts aware of that, Captain?" Horvāth asked stoically. ((OOC: So yeah, thought I'd throw in the first big obstacle for the group. Have fun with it, no need to kill the thing in one post, etc Enjoy!)) |
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| Ahriman Lordimar | Mon Mar 28, 2011 3:45 am Post #8 |
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The pirate's teeth sparkled a pearl white color as the beast emerged from the sand. He did love a challenge on the field of battle, especially one that drove him to the edges of his abilities. A shrill whistle cut the air as his boat began to move into the water. They had no oars aboard, and he was quite sure they wouldn't need them. Mora lugged her massive form from the boat, causing a wave to launch from the water where she landed. Their boat moved much of the way on the force, soon being pushed along by the yeti's refined tone. She was one of Ahriman's greatest friends- and in many occasions, his most precious tool of war. As his boat hit the sand, him and the three of his crew-members that had taken to the shore with him rolled out, narrowly avoiding an early end as the sand-worm slammed it's tail into the beach-head. The sheer force of it rocked them off of their feet as it ground many of the boats into oblivion, sending much of their first wave to the graves they were destined for. All the more sport for the rest of them, then. His other men rushed off to chase down their own quarry, the captain moving for the worm. Mora was not far behind him, he could hear the grunting and roars of rage as she pressed from the water and shook herself dry. High above he heard the bird-song of Elnora, the cawing answer to the beast in the sands. They would definitely not destroy the beast, but they would be much help in hurting it. He moved in now, stepped his feet into the shadow of every merc he went by, barely giving any of them a piece of mind. He moved into the shade of the worm, stabbing his masterwork blade into a roll of its leathery flesh, and disappearing into another man as the crashing force of it's response came calling. The sheer force of it hitting close knocked the wind from the pirate's lungs, and he could hear the call of another mercenary as it was chomped into the beast's gullet. He ground his teeth as he got to his feet, the stability of the ground bringing skill to his legs that almost none could compare to. He ducked between men as they ran and flew towards the monster, and some even going past to the oncoming waves of cutthroats and demons that had taken the place as their residence. The battle was far smaller scale then one would imagine with all the effort, but there in the fields every sword clash sounded like a thousand. His heart thumped in his ears and he could feel it pounding into his throat with each breath. As he moved towards the beast, a smile crossed his face even wider now, lightning cracking into the beasts back and drawing it's attention to the sky. Elnora had given him an opportunity to at least wound the beast, he hoped. Mora moved in next to him now, lifting her master up and cocking her arm back, tossing his full form forward as hard as she could. The pirate flew faster then he thought a human ever should, pounding his blade into the beasts 'chest' and sliding onward. He flew past, his blade caught in the beast's flesh as he slid through the sand. At least two ribs had been broken in the flight and he could feel a burning pain in his shoulder. His gambit had given fruit, however. A gash marred the beast now, though he was not quite sure if it had just made it angrier, or actually wounded the beast. And there was another issue entirely. He had no weapon save for his bow, and he would need more then that if he wanted to pay his worth in this fight yet. Luka had led Allen and Loda on, his cutlass leading the way to hold off some of the cutthroats that had rushed from the fiery ring Elnora had laid down in their home. His cutlass was nothing compared to his master's, but to these men the difference would never be noticeable. He spun his entire body, bringing the knees out of a man and driving forward with his soldiers behind him. Almost three to one odds already on the beach and he was quite sure they weren't done rushing in. A stoney look crossed over the first mate's face. His captain would have his fun for now, but he would keep the face of a leader and the cool head of a tactician. That's what they would all need were they to survive the day. And a grin couldn't stop itself from creasing across his face. A load of luck wouldn't hurt, either. |
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| Marissa Skeates | Mon Mar 28, 2011 8:49 am Post #9 |
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Had the halfling been fainter of heart than she was, she might not have survived the sudden and immensely dramatic appearance of the most awful thing she had ever laid eyes on. She knew not what to call the thing, but its body glowed like sand lain long under a burning sun and its ring of huge, razor-sharp teeth were nothing to gawk at. Yet gawk she did, for she could not help it as the sandstorm finally cleared. It was a dive for her that caused her to finally leap into action - or, rather, away from action. There was a hideous, blood-curdling scream from somewhere behind her; when she looked up from the ground where she now lay, she saw the lower half of a mangled goblin slamming into the ground before her. Had she been on her feet, she would have jumped fit to make a dragon cock an eye brow - if dragons had eye brows. But the glint of another goblin's eyes made Marissa narrow her own. She knew what was about to happen, and she was on the feet thrice as fast as the second goblin. She darted between dashing pirates and leaped over the crumbling stones of a once-great city in her flight amid the song of a roaring beast and the cries of battle. She leaped through a window in a broken-down building with only three crumbling walls and no ceiling - likely once an exterior store room of some kind, by the broken crates and scattered, unrecognizable debris strewn about - and whirled to find herself face to face with the second goblin. She was not far from the battle, but she was concealed - and so was her pursuer. The short sword he drew was a disgrace to say the least: dull, rusty, jagged from so many nicks and dents along the length of the blade. The blade had also been forced into a rough wooden dowel roughly the size of one of Marissa's fist; apparently, it had not boasted a true hilt for some time. The goblin lunged, intent on getting his meal now that the others were distracted. In the blink of an eye, a blade seemingly having come from nowhere was in the halfling's right hand and she parried the blow. The goblin lunged again, and again she parried. She dodged and ducked this way and that, narrowly avoiding what might have been deadly blows with a better sword and a more accurate goblin. When she threw him off-balance by coming in close after dodging a strike, the goblin stumbling back to avoid a quick death, she caught him in the shoulder. Unfortunately, though it rendered his left arm all but useless, it was the wrong shoulder. He began swinging wildly now, crying out in pain, and not just with his poor excuse for a sword. He began swinging his body around in such a manner that his left arm had become an uncontrolled club. When Marissa ducked beneath a backward blow and dodged just to the left of a thrust, the sword's blade became lodged in a crack between two fallen stones. Marissa struck him four times in the chest, his armor not withstanding the rapid blows from the halfling's stiletto, but the goblin got the sword free on the second try. Unfortunately for him, the blade flew off and landed somewhere in the rubble off toward the shore; looking off after it in surprise, the goblin turned back too late to stop a quick stab into his throat. He wrenched backward, sputtering and spewing blood everywhere. His eyes lolled about as he tried in vain to scream. He collapsed at last to the ground, writhing and shaking and twisting and turning. With a few final twitches, however, the goblin was dead. Marissa waited a few moments, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Finally, she wiped her blade clean on the goblin's arm (and then wiped it clean on her cloak). Going then to the window, she spied the battle in the distance. Ahriman had lost his blade. He had a bow, it seemed, but he was in a spot of trouble. The creature had turned toward him now and was making a point of going after him. It was confused and distracted by the pirate captain's men, but there was no mistaking its intent. But the halfling was no huntress. She was glad just to be on solid ground, but knowing what they were here to do did not help her one bit. Apparently, however, her troubles with the goblin were far from over. She stopped dead as she heard a sickening crunch and splat, and the groaning of someone - or something - behind her. She turned slowly, feeling as though her body had turned to lead, and swallowed hard. This just was not her day... Before her stood - if the thing could be said to be standing - an extremely odd figure. Had his body been straight, he would have been a fine nobleman. But he was climbing his way out of the goblin's corpse as though climbing from a deep grave, the corpse itself split almost completely in two from the inside. The 'nobleman' himself was finely dressed all in red and black, complete with a crimson top hat, but his body...that was the true marvel. Its feet seemed to rest at one spot in the ground while its body stretched up and off to the right, almost like an 's' that hadn't fully formed yet. Its head was nearly five feet to the right of its feet! To top that, it was nearly eight feet tall. Marissa didn't realize at first that she was hugging the wall as the creature came forth. The problem here, though, was that everyone was focused on the creature at the beach head. Darting to the right as the demon's foot slammed into the wall against which Marissa had just been standing, causing it to crumble to the ground, Marissa knew one thing for certain: That shamrock of hers could not have been more useless. |
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| Godfrey | Mon Mar 28, 2011 6:46 pm Post #10 |
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Godfrey's eyes widened at the sight of the enormous demonic worm. Never had he seen such a creature before, but if he could fell a dragon, how difficult would a giant worm be? As he and his comrades charged out of their boat, they headed straight for the writhing beast. It seemed they werent the first to arrive on the shore, as the pirate captain and a contingent of his men were already engaged in battle. "Lordimar and his men will not stand alone! Steel yourselves!" Godfrey cried, beckoning his men to draw their weapons. The small barbarian horde brandished their two handed swords and giant war axes, and followed after their leader. As the troop charged towards the menacing demon-spawn, several of the barbarians began disappearing underneath the sand, screaming in surprise as they were drawn under. The others stopped, turning to see the commotion. Suddenly, demons armed with dual swords and covered in rusted chainmail burst from the ground, bringing up shredded remains of the barbarians they had pulled under. It seemed as though Godfrey's regiment wouldn't be able to make it to the pirate captain's side just yet... The pale berserker leaped into the air, drawing both of his deadly blades, and parried an oncoming strike from one of the demons and slashed at its arm, striking it in the chest with his other blade as he landed. It let out an inhuman howl and kicked him away, then charged towards him. The creature bared its teeth and wildly swung its swords about, but to no avail. Godfrey was more skilled in the art of wielding two weapons at once, and took full advantage of every mistake and every opening he spotted. As the creature swung high, he ducked and shoved his right blade into its stomach, then forced it up under its ribcage. The creature screeched in agony, wriggling and writhing around. It dropped its weapons and tried as hard as it could to pull away from Godfrey, frantically scratching and clawing at him. He lifted the beast up and raised his free weapon, then let out a wicked roar and slashed its throat, nearly severing its head in the process. There were still many to slay, and the rugged barbarians were holding their own, using raw brute strength to pulverize the cowardly demons, who had foolishly left the cover of the sand to attempt a head on assault. More demons erupted from the sand as their brethren fell, but they too met a similar fate. "Come on! Is this all you've got? This is child's play!" Shouted one of the hardier barbarians. It did seem as though the only tricks the demons had played so far were the unleashing of a giant worm and a few subterranean imps. The barbarians were a dull witted lot. Godfrey knew as well as any other intelligent person that this wasn't even the beginning. They had a long night ahead of them, and there was no telling what horrors would await the mercenary army. He dropped the eviscerated corpse of the imp and scowled. Two more rushed at the dragon slayer, only to meet a quick death at the hands of a brawny barbarian wielding both a flail and an axe. The two nodded at each other and split off. He knew the barbarians could hold the line. He had a bigger target. The sandworm was laying waste to their forces, and he had experience in dealing with larger beasts. He took off at a dead run straight towards the creature, noticing that it had its sights locked on Ahriman. Just as the worm looked as though it was about to lunge at the pirate, the ghostly white warrior slammed into the side of its head and dug his blades as deep into it as they would go. Though it did little, it at least would bide Ahriman time to find some sort of weapon. As he continued his onslaught, it thrashed around and flung him off, sending him sprawling into the sand. Though he hadn't sustained any serious injuries, the thing had knocked the wind out of him, and as he regained focus, he realized he had succeeded in drawing the creature's attention away from the captain. It was completely focused on him, and he could tell his strikes had done nothing but anger the beast. He cursed and quickly got up, leaping and rolling away from the creature as it lunged towards him. As he got back up he noticed Ahriman's blade dug into its chest, and quickly made a move to grab it as it went for him again. He sheathed one of his blades and jumped onto the worm again, this time reaching for the sword. If he could get a hold of it, he could get it to the pirate captain, leaving him with more than just a bow. He dug his weapon into the beast's chest and reached for the blade, struggling to yank it out as the monster writhed around in a blind rage. With a final, powerful tug, he ripped the weapon out of the worm, causing a fountain of blood to erupt from the wound. Godfrey tossed the weapon towards the last location he saw Ahriman, then drew his dagger and continued stabbing into the beast's chest, only to be thrown down for a second time. It seemed as though luck failed him the second time around, as he was thrown into the ruins of a stone building. All he could feel was pain. His back was in agony. He tried to get up, but stumbled forward and hit the dirt. As he tried to pull himself up, one of the demons that had ambushed his group of barbarians crawled out of the sand. It growled and let out a maniacal laugh as it paced towards him. As it neared him it swung a blade, which took Godfrey considerable effort to parry due to the loss of his strength from the impact he had suffered. The next strike the demon made pierced Godfrey's shoulder and went into the wall. He let out a scream of agony and pushed his blade into the imp's stomach, then twisted and ripped it out, sending its entrails splattering on top of him. "Great," he muttered as it slumped over and fell on him. Edited by Godfrey, Mon Mar 28, 2011 6:57 pm.
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| Asher Drake | Mon Mar 28, 2011 7:51 pm Post #11 |
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Running through a vast beach of demons and dead allies, he saw the giant beast. He witnessed the captain's first strike on the enormous fiend. He then saw the berserker climb the side of the beast in an attempt to retrieve the captains cutlass. Once he reached it and threw it to Ahriman, Godfrey was thrown back against a stone wall. Asher decided it was time to go on the offensive. Running at the beast, he drew his blade. Running his hand over his face. "Lord, I am your vassal." His eyes quickly turned white and he let out a laugh. "You called me for a worm?" Jumping at the beast, on what seemed to be its back, they dug in the blade. "What makes you tick demon?" He laughed once more. The demon let out a large roar as blood erupted from its back. It flailed violently. Crashing its back into the sand. Rolling, Asher was no where to be found. Finding himself in an underground cave beneath the sand. Asher's lord had once again given him back control. The fall did a number on his back. Seeing a path that would likely take him back into Taras, he made his way for a spiral staircase. But from the path emerged a large demon. Wolf like in build. It's fangs dripping some black substance. It howled and sand from above fell in blinding Asher. Rubbing the sand from his eyes he lost sight of the beast. Illuminated by his armor he was able to see corpses of many of his allies who had fallen into the cavern. Dashing for the stairs, he climbed up into an old ruin. A building, probably an inn stood around him. A long black vine grabbed at his legs and he slashed it with his blade. The wolf appeared from within the darkness, retracting the vines into its back. It pounced on Asher, knocking his blade across the room. His armor seemed to have no effect against the wolf. His hands nearly bitten off as he held the beasts jaws open to stop it from snapping at his face. Asher's left eye went white. And he no longer had control of his left arm. Grabbing the beasts snout his lord pulled up with a fierce power. Asher had a dead look in his right eye. "This isn't the time to be afraid Asher! It's a demon. You are here to kill demons!" Asher gripped the beast's lower jaw with his right hand and pulled opposite his lord. Tearing the beast in half, it reformed as two smaller wolves. The color returned to his eyes. His lord was being quite the pest today, what was the point of only using a vassal for a few moments at a time. He rolled and ran for the door. Being chased back into the main area with his allies, the wolves were soon struck down by nearby allies. Asher ran back for the large beast to continue assisting his comrades. |
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| Wulfdor | Thu Mar 31, 2011 9:06 am Post #12 |
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The sheer force of the sand worm bursting from the sand almost knocked Wulfdor clean off his feet; the minotaur just about held his footing, though, and braced himself for combat. Raising his axe, he let out another warcry in the language of the Bull and launched himself at the worm. He was beaten to the punch, however, by the beserker, who leapt in to dive his twin blades into the creature's flank, followed soon afterwards by the one that didn't smell human; some sort of dragonblooded warrior, if Wulfdor was to trust his nose. Determined not to be the only one who didn't help bring the worm down, Wulfdor glanced around, checking to make sure there were no unfortunate allies in the immediate vicinity. As predicted, most seemed to be keeping a wary distance from the unpredictable minotaur, so the way was clear for him to begin spinning on the spot, his axe held out as he built up momentum for what was going to be quite the hammer throw. Moving like a whirlwind, the bull revolved on the spot, the sheer force behind his swing building up to the point when he could hold on to the weapon no longer. Releasing it at the key moment, Wulfdor watched as he axe flew full-force at the giant worm, colliding with its gaping maw as one of the others plunged their sword into its back. Almost a quarter of the sand demon's jaw was carved clean off as the axe collided with it, sending blood, gums and teeth showering down towards the beach below. Grunting at his success, but now aware that his only weapon had fallen some distance from him, Wulfdor began charging to recover it, ignoring the now-reeling sandworm, who for the most part seemed out of the fight; it was still flailing dangerously in agony and anger, but the combined efforts of the allies had ensured it was pretty much a sitting duck now. Unfortunately for the minotaur, the demons of Taras did not seem willing to let him recover his weapon so easily. As he stampeded towards his axe, a flurry of movement to his left caught Wulfdor's eye; the dragon blooded one was running into the main area, pursued by two wolf-like demons. Seeing that one of them - focused on its quarry - was inadvertently on a collision course with him, Wulfdor snarled and clenched his fists, waiting until the opportune moment to swing out and thump the lycan in the side of the neck as it launched itself into the air at the dragon-blooded one's back. A resounding 'snap' echoed out as the beast's neck was broken instantly by the force of the minotaur's swipe. As the other was dispatched by another ally, Wulfdor glanced at the man who had been being chased, "You're welcome." The beast-man grunted. Then, turning around, the minotaur took the final few steps to recover his axe and held it up high, the blood from the sandworm still dripping fresh from the blade. "Is this all Taras has to offer!" he roared, his voice carrying across the entire beach, "Is this all!?" Given that the response to the minotaur's challenge was for a rallying cry of screeches and screams to sound out from the shadowed ruins, before a wave of demons of various shapes and sizes emerged and began to storm down towards the beach, it seemed that Taras did indeed have more to offer. ((OOC: I won't be posting as Horvāth for a little while, so feel free to skip him in the posting order. He doesn't have anything to contribute at this stage)) |
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| Ahriman Lordimar | Thu Mar 31, 2011 11:31 am Post #13 |
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The pirate retrieved his weapon with help from the barbarian soldier, his sheer will to get the blade from the beast being impressive. As he steadied himself, he could feel his breath wheeze in his chest. The adrenaline of it all soon melted into rage, and he found it hard to focus his mind. Turning to face the darkened streets of Taras, however, he knew he would have to were he to survive this expedition. And the calls of the haunted that came from within the city nailed that point in much deeper then the pirate would have liked. "Mend ossa, carne e cucire insieme." The healing light of his spell glowed, stitching his ribs together tightly. His skills were mediocre at best but it was enough to keep him going. At least long enough that his corpse would have a lovely place beneath the remains of the town's hall. A sharp whistle cut the air, and his men instantly followed his order. Mora pounded her way through a platoon of imps, and set herself in front of Ahriman. Elnora circled above, and each of her angered bolts that she shot from her beak fried another of the demons that came rushing from the buildings in the city. Luka led the other two of the pirates with him back to their captain's side, the group of them creating a line of blades. Ahriman raised his blade, and a guttural cry ushered from him to call for the charge into the heart of the city. Mora lead the charge, pounding her body into one of the burning buildings and putting a hole large enough for at least five men to go through it. They could easily use this as a passage into the inner heart of the city, past the fires and into the heart of darkness that waited before them. Ahriman watched the first few mercenaries push into the building, a bulk of them seeming to be veterans of many battles long before. It was somewhat sad that in their final moments, even a veteran of a million battles will show what they really were. The first of them was snatched up by a whip, their neck snapping too fast for them to scream or grab at their throat. The whip lit on fire and tore the head from his shoulders, tossing the pieces into the nearest wall. A figure in all black rushed forward into the other two mercenaries, the whip it wielded tearing through the waist of the first one like a finely sharpened blade, the bite of the other merc's blade barely touching the outside of it's cloak before the whip lashed at his face, flaying flesh and sending him to the cracked stone floor beneath him. He writhed in pain, screaming. And the demon's red eyes glowed from beneath it's hood as it saw it's next Quarry. Ahriman wondered if he could handle something like that in head to head combat, but at least he wasn't alone in this fight. Not yet, at any rate. Luka ran forward first, ducking under the lash of the whip as it came in on him and bringing his cutlass down on the creatures leg. His blade caught between two chitin-like plates on the beasts leg, causing it to kick him into a nearby wall. He gritted his teeth and ran after his first mate, jumping to the lad's shadow and pushing forward as a fierce shadow, biting his blade into the creature's leg where Luka's had just been. Black blood oozed to the floor, and the beast howled in a language that made the pirate's ears hurt just listening to it. The words didn't even sound like words and their mere utterance caused him pain. He felt like claws were rending into his chest as he was forced back now by the demon, it's whip slamming into the edge of his blade that could barely be raised to defend himself. His pets were caught up in their own battles, he could hear the call of gargoyles above and the crackle of lightning as Elnora defended herself. And his men were trapped in combat with what he guessed were the minions of the beast he now faced. He gritted his teeth, blood trickling through his teeth as he pressed on. He raised his arm to take the brunt of the whip, skin coming from his forearm as he wrapped it around the whip and yanked. It lit on fire, burning up and down his arm as he pulled the demon closer to him. The pirate gritted his teeth and pressed on, stabbing into the beasts chest and yanking. He felt his body shudder as the whip died, and the beast fell to the floor at his feet. His left arm was useless now, and he was quite sure he wouldn't be able to heal these wounds. He shook his head and continued on. He couldn't save it now, and he was quite sure he would get a rather nasty scar after all this was over. Such are the prices of war. |
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| Marissa Skeates | Thu Mar 31, 2011 6:56 pm Post #14 |
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Spinning like a ballerina, Marissa leaped between the cracks of a half-standing wall. The demon followed - going over the wall and landing right in front of her. But she ducked between its legs, got to her feet, and kept running. It opened its mouth and countless needles hurled themselves from its depths at incredible speed, only barely missing Marissa thanks to the tattered cloak she wore. They cracked stone and melted right through just about anything they touched. They were red-hot and as vicious as a viper's fangs. Marissa wasn't even really paying attention to where she was running. Her footsteps did carry her further and further from the fight with the massive creature that had come from beneath the sand, however. Soon, she found herself dashing into a doorless cellar. The winding tunnel was long and dark, and even Marissa could barely see. The demon pursuing her did not seem to have this problem. The tunnel stretched on for several long minutes, Marissa and the demon both running at the peak of their respective physical abilities - assuming the demon's was indeed a physical ability and not some kind of fell magic from the Abyss or one of the Nine Hells. Either way, he was gaining on her quite quickly. But the path was sloping downward as well, and after a bit, she found herself in a massive cavern with a narrow stone bridge. The demon pursued her across it and almost caught up to her, but she knocked over unlit urns that spilled some kind of oil onto him. The urns were likely for lighting the path to whatever lay at the other end of this bridged, but the oil made the demon wrench itself this way and that as it screamed in agony. Now it was pissed. Marissa ran harder than ever only to come across the base of a tower almost as massive as the cavern. It gleamed even with so little light, like a great onyx statuette. It vaguely resembled a dagger with no edges, smooth and round and wrapped by an equally black snake of some kind. At least, it appeared to be a snake. A carving to the right of the door confirmed it: a tall, smooth, round tower with a snake wrapped around it, the snake's head staring hungrily at the top. The top of the tower in the carving was the same as that of a chess piece - a rook, specifically. Marissa tripped as she rushed through the open doorway only to trip over something. She was on her feet quickly, but it seemed that she had tripped over a coil of the demon. It was surrounding her, stretching its body around her like the snake that wrapped itself around the tower! It was luck that saved her. As the demon's swiftly coiling body began to close in, a wrought-iron gate collapsed from somewhere above - impaling and trapping the demon. It screamed in rage as Marissa leapt over its writhing coils, whirling about to get a good look at it. It was spewing black blood everywhere, the only thing saving Marissa from getting drenched being the distance she now was from the thing. She spat upon it, knowing full well that it would be dead and trapped for some time. Turning to explore, Marissa made her swift way up the broad, winding stairs. The ascent seemed to last even longer than the trip across the bridge. Through similar gates strewn along her path to the right, Marissa saw glimpses of libraries and studies and strange-looking rooms filled with glass bottles and vials and all manner of frightening-looking curios: shrunken heads and spiders dancing even as they rested, impaled, upon cruel-looking staves and spears; paintings of corpse piles and individuals, nude and twisted horribly, their faces in agony; and snakes...lots and lots of snakes. More than once, Marissa sped up to avoid being chased by the things. She preferred furry critters to reptiles, thank you very much. Her ascent finally took her into a large chamber lined with black candles. The candles were lit with small blue flames, hundreds of them dancing in a wind Marissa could not feel. Before her was some kind of cone-like wall stretching out like a tunnel, but too wide to be a true cone and without any apparent doorway. As she neared it, however, it opened wide onto a rooftop identical to the one in the carving at the base of the tower. Stepping out, she heard the cries of battle in the distance. She looked back and saw that the exit of the tower was indeed the head of a giant black snake. She shuddered and walked carefully to the edge. In the distance, the minotaur was hurling his ax; he aided another before retrieving it. Marissa was dozens of feet above and several hundred feet away from the battle. That suited her just fine, but she would rather have been out of this fell tower as quickly as possible Yet she saw no way out except the way she had come, which was now swiftly closing, its black reptilian maw leaving her no exit - except down. She might have been able to jump rather high with that crown of hers, but she certainly couldn't fall any slower than anyone else. Above her and somewhere near the site of the battle flew a beautiful bird hurling bolts of lightning toward the ground, but it could not help her here and her grappling hook wasn't long enough for a tower this tall. She sighed in frustration as the night came on in full, finally alone - and ironically, she no longer wanted to be. |
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| Godfrey | Fri Apr 1, 2011 12:36 am Post #15 |
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Godfrey slowly slipped into unconsciousness. He had lost a lot of blood, and his strength was waning. The last thing he saw before blacking out was another of the imps, charging straight for him. He chuckled as he welcomed his fate, and his world went black. The last sound he thought he would ever hear was the horrid yelp of the creature and a sickening slice, then a thud. His eyes opened. He could hear the battle raging in the distance, but the volume of the waves washing up on the shore hinted to him that he was back on the beach. He stared at the elvish male that occupied the small tent with him. He noticed medical equipment strewn about everywhere, and knew he had been dragged to the shore command center, if it could be called that. The sound of men yelling directions towards the sea meant that others from the boat were joining the fray. Godfrey slowly rose from the cot he had been laid on, and felt his shoulder, noticing that his wound had been cleaned and finely stitched. Several healing herbs were on the table next to him. He noticed the piercing agony in his back was gone. As he started to get up the Elf healer suddenly turned, somewhat startled that the warrior had managed to pull himself up so soon. He was a survivor, that was certain. "Where are my blades." It was more of a statement that a question. They were not on his person, and it made his hands ball into fists and his eyes narrow. The elf was quick to pull them out of a weapons locker, though, their appearance had strangely changed. They were the same blades, but they looked somewhat elongated, were heavily serrated, and arcane runes covered the flat surfaces of both weapons. "What... What did you do to them?" He asked, sounding more impressed than angered. The elf handed the weapons to him, and cracked a small grin. "Just consider it a gift. I'm sure you will find demon flesh much easier to rend with the runes inscribed... My place is no longer in the front lines, but if I can contribute to your cause, I will do so in a way that will truly benefit. These blades have been enchanted with a spell designed to hue demon flesh, and cleave through demon bone. Use them well." Godfrey nodded at the elf, astounded that the healer even carried such knowledge. He gripped the blades firmly in his hands and stepped outside of the tent, then surveyed the battle. Chaos was all he saw. Man and demon, fighting to the death. The mercenary army looked as though it could be easily overwhelmed, as wave upon wave of abyssal creatures were still pouring from the ruins. Godfrey seethed and readied himself. Refreshed by the Elven healer's herbs and medical skills, and full of renewed vigor for battle due to the new power bestowed upon his weapons, the warrior made into a full towards the massive melee unfolding. From behind he heard several shouts. He looked to his rear to see the remainder his barbarian troops. He allowed them to catch up to him, as a line of berserkers crashing into the enemy numbers would have a far more devastating effect on the demon horde. His contingent of troops all let out a fierce warcry in unison, making a beastly, inhuman sound of their own to challenge that of their opposition. As the demon hunter-led barbarians neared the wall of demonic forces, they all leaped forward, crashing into the line with blades and axes swinging. "No mercy! No quarter! Slaughter them all!" Godfrey cried. While the others jumped into the fold using their weight to knock the first line of creatures to the ground, he backed up, and charged headlong, knocking down the first in his path. He began cutting a bloody swathe through the horde, noticing that his blades were felling far more of the creatures in far less time. He let out a roar and began spinning the blades around his hands, then twirled around and out stretched them, turning into a deadly maelstrom of muscle and enchanted steel. Demons fell like flies at his onslaught. Some even tried turning the other way, though the sheer number of monsters made it near impossible to escape the reach of his deadly weapons. As his Whirlwind attack came to a hault, he shoved his blade into an imp's lower jaw, attempting to lift it into the air, but the effectiveness of the demon bane enchantment caused it to rip straight through bone, splitting its skull and sending its brains flying onto the creature behind it. The barbarians were laying waste to the frontline troops, being nothing more but meager, diminutive creatures. Only time would tell if they could hold out, but for the moment, Godfrey's unit was taking the fight and shoving it up the demon horde's backside. |
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