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[GRP] DEADication to the cause
Topic Started: Sat Dec 17, 2011 2:36 pm (345 Views)
Sanctus Ignis
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Malleus Maleficarum swung in a glistening arcs, bestowing true death wherever it landed. Here a skull smashed, a limb shattered, a bony ribcage was inverted. Azreal's muscles bunched and knotted as he heaved the warhammer about him. Sweat poured freely over his face despite the bitter cold of the day, and his breathing had already become ragged. I'm too old for this he grumbled to himself as yet more of the abominations closed in. He had started this day with a dozen others, all fervent believers of the cause, yet now found himself alone and surrounded. Twice he had had to slay the reanimated corpses of his companions, not that he minded greatly. For once they had made that definite change from living to dead, Azrael had no qualms about turning their once familiar faces into so much frozen slush. These grim memories wandered to the front of his mind as he ducked yet another attack, swinging his mighty warhammer into the abdomen of this latest opponent, frozen splinters of bone and ice showering the air in it's wake.

Putting down the next three undead in rapid succession, Azreal looked about himself for his next opponent. The area was clear. Finally able to take a breather, he began to take stock of his surroundings. Having started the day at the very edge of the ruins, Azrael was rather surprised to find himself now in the middle of a ruined compound, broken walls and pillars littered about him. He had been battling so ferociously that he had hardly time to notice where the fight was taking him. He tensed, still ready for the next attack, but nothing was forthcoming. His ears strained against the deathly silence, listening for the tell-tale shuffling of feet, or the wailing lamentations of the dead. Still nothing. He let out a sigh of relief. Setting his warhammer down against a chunk of broken masonry Azrael took a seat amongst the flotsam and jetsam of the recent battle. For the next five minuted he bandaged his various minor wounds with strips of fabric drawn from a belt pouch, smearing onto them first some of the special salve he had made in preparation for such an event as this.

A quick swig from his flask and a mouthful of dried meat and the old Inquisitor was ready to go again. Hefting Malleus onto his shoulder with a world-weary sigh, he strode from the ruined courtyard, stepping over the detritus of friend and foe with a cold indifference. Over the next hour the sun completed the last of its daily descent and Azreal roamed the streets, hunting the sporadic groups of frozen undead. Was it just his weariness or were they becoming a little more resilient? he mused, removing the head of his warhammer from a particularly dense corpse. Still, it matters not. He strode on into the gathering dusk.
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Had Earthtracker
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The halls of the dead were eerily quiet, and the hordes that once populated them now laid in broken stillness on the ground. Had stared at them, munching upon an apple from his supplies. He'd come to these ruins to look for treasure, to gain a reward from those that would give coin to ensure the undead didn't flourish across Imythess and beyond, and to give him a chance to be out of the shop and smashing some skulls for once. Damn store's been too silent since his partner died, poor chap.

Here, there more than enough skulls to break, and he found a rather nice mace that worked even better against the undead than his old axe. However, for a time, he'd been following a trail of dead undead. He chose to follow it. It either led to another adventurer out to reunite the zombies here with Death, or something even nastier than the creatures that swarmed this place. Either way, he'd like to meet it.

The trail led to a large round chamber of broken masonry. He kept his steps smooth and steady, in case it was an ally standing he was approaching. His armor wasn't the most silent thing ever, and making his steps too steady for an undead and too slow for an attacker seemed best. He paused under an archway, thinking he heard something rustling beyond.

"So," he said aloud when his ears told him there was no one else approaching. "You seem a bit too lively to be one of the undead." He brushed some apple juice out of his trimmed beard, allowing his words to reverberate and die before he continued. "Care to prove me right before I start swinging?"
Edited by Had Earthtracker, Fri Dec 23, 2011 9:56 pm.
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Sanctus Ignis
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Dead silence, eerie and oppressing made the close confines of the ruins seem even more claustrophobic. Azrael stood dead still, trying to quieten his breathing, ears straining for the slightest hint of movement. It had been but a few minutes since his last stop, but his mouth was already dry. A trickle of sweat rolled down his shaven scalp despite the cold of the night. Something was near, he could feel it in his old bones. His own teachings rose to the forefront of his mind as the Inquisitor steeled himself; Know thine enemy. You are known to him already. He felt his pulse quicken. His eyes flickered from shattered wall to broken building to narrow corridor. There! Faint, but definite; the clink of steel on steel. And again! The crunch of boot on the damned ground. The noise was unmistakeable after a lifetime of of fighting - an armoured warrior approached.

Turning on his heel to face the approaching footsteps Azrael raised his hammer into a ready stance, but before he could take any action a voice echoed out of the gloom. "So, you seem a bit too lively to be one of the undead." Azrael stood still as the words reverberated around the shattered landscape. "Care to prove me right before I start swinging?" A small smile flickered about the corner of the old man's mouth as he lowered Malleus and strode through the gloom toward the voice. He made no effort to muffle the sound of his movements, rounding the corner back into the cavern he had just cleared and coming face to face with this new arrival. An irrepressible sneer formed on his weathered face as Azrael took in every aspect of the stocky warrior. A Dwarf - how disgusting. But potentially useful.

"Ah, the weapon slays where the hand wills." Azrael said softly, "But stay you hand this time, Dwarf, for there are greater enemies afoot." As if on cue the unmistakeable sounds of the undead came echoing into the clearing, the shuffle of feet, the wail and moans and cries of unrelenting misery all a torture on Azrael's old ears. It was clearly another large group, distant enough to be avoided, yet not that far that the threat could be ignored.
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Had Earthtracker
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Had swallowed the last bit of apple and threw the core away. So, it was a live human here: bald, older than a lot of of the young punks the dwarf passed near the entrance of this place, and moving with the assurance that came from not taking the easy route to old age.

There was a flash of disgust in the human's eyes when he registered Had's own species. Had mentally shrugged at this. He'd moved to the surface long ago and he was more than use too that expression of disdain people got when they realized they'd have to deal with one of those people i.e. a dwarf. Sometimes he too umbrage that they didn't guess he was just a short bearded human, but this was hardly the time or the place for that.

"Aye," he said to the human's words, his voice softer now as he listened to the approaching uneven steps of the dead. There sounded like too many even for the two of them to handle, especially considering how ragged the human looked. Had wasn't young for a dwarf, but it seemed dwarves wore a bit better through the years than their human counterparts.

"This deep within, there's no reason for us to avoid the ruin's denizens until the odds are a bit better. Feel like finding a place to hold up for a bit so we can get a better feel for each other? No reason for two old codgers like us to part ways considering the undead refuse one on one fights."
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