Federoff
The legend of Groose
Wrong, Wrong, Wrong
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Fantasy Natural Selection
- Thread starter Morgrim
- Start date
Alstromeria
Florian Society Member
Riktos, after finishing his rabbit, was still a bit disgruntled. On one side was the possibility of being trapped between a rock and a hard place, delving into some unfamiliar tunnels and risking being cornered. On the other side, there was the possibility of basically the same thing, but being ambushed from any manner of ways. In a fight, Riktos would rather be underground, pushing the front and fighting for ground inch by inch. One did not simply corner an angry bear and survive.
"Alaria, I have not one idea of how it is possible for a group of individuals like ours to fight an army and come out unscathed." The hulking mass of a man replied, "Between the two unfamiliar places, I'd rather fight with my back against an earthy tunnel wall." Riktos had been in quite a few fights, and had fought in his share of battles, but he'd always been part of a large force coming against another large force on this scale. To have only a few shady typed individuals and a couple merceneries like himself try to fight a small militant state was suicide. "To be honest..." the bear man's voice rumbled like soft thuder over distant mountains, "Alaria, I'd rather just walk away."
Riktos wasn't one to simply run from a fight, and when retreat was called he was one of the last to pull out after his comerades were safe. But under the command of a guide he no longer respected nor trusted, the insurrection of a city that was a limb of the silver hand, Riktos did not like those odds. Which was something, given that he'd never had a formal education. He could not read, nor write, with the exception of the crudely blended R and K that served as his signature. When he was done, he was done.
"Don't get me wrong, the humans that make up the silver legion are flat scum, and deserve to die. But one could fight in more effective ways than simply splitting the group into two and hoping for the best." Running a large hand over his face, Riktos grumbled. "It might be better for the two of us if we simply left."
Anaxileah
Luckz
Black is a warming colour~
The vampire was impressed at how well the healimg that has been casted uoon her was working and smiled as she felt herself feel a bit better, now all she needed was a meal and to get into the City. She watched two enter, and a few other's head to where she presumed was the tunnels. Marie chuckled and quickly followed suit, she kept her hood up as she walked and managed to past as a human, an albino one of course. Her course was directed to the numerous guard stations and to her surprise there was more than clearly normal she could smell the tension in the air, something was off. Were the others ok?
Marie furrowed her brows, as she instead headed in a different direction, noting areas to run, sneak, jump and all manner of sorts she perceived as useful. The vampire was planning and my God was this going to be the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
The vampire then noticed a glint of metal in the corner of her eyes. A guard. She readied her snakes on her wrist before he approached.
"Excuse me.Miss can I see your face,"
"I'll show you much more if you follow me," the vampire relaxed and teased, his eyes catching on before nodding.
"Must be my lucky day,"
"I think youre right,"
The two headed down a side alley, nothing was down there beside washing being hung over head? Dirty street cobblestone and old animals practically dead. He removed his helmet and placed a hand on her hip but before be could even say help, he was toast. Marie sunk her fangs into his neck, rendering his speech useless as she drank, the strength of him making her very happy.
"Sorry dear," she found a half broken glass bottle, definitely alcohol and wedged it into his neck, a stabbing took place here. Marie wiped her mouth, flipped her hood and left him with only his armour before continuing on the street to plan.
Javax
The Shadow
JokerValentine
We Out
King Riglov the Superior to All you Heathens
Interacting with:
Morgrim
The beak on this one, who taught him to say such vile insults? For an avian fool, his eyes deceived him, as surely King Riglov was not fat, he was regally presentable. Another arrow could suffice, perhaps one to his gullet and leave him choking on the palace floor. But no, that was not deserved. The stone had not been chipped away from its rightful place so that they may be polluted with this fiend's blood. It made the King wince, the way he pathetically wailed, his anger boiling like his relatives in the stew he served to the troops. He thought he would have it all figured out. The avian fiend Shitling IV dared to imagine that he would find a way out of this mess, that he would topple this kingdom? He had moves, but that was it. He had no free will, he had no family, he had no friends, he had nothing.
But that was not true, for he had something indeed. The King made his approach, confident as he stooped to the avian's level. His wound was rather severe, enough to ensure cooperation for the next moment. "The only thing you'll get, Shitling IV, is me whatever I so please," he uttered venomously, glaring right into the servant's pathetic, disgusting eyes. He should just cut the bird's wings off and see how he flies. He should cut him inch by inch until there was nothing left. He should be thrown on a grill and see how long it takes for him to catch fire. There were so many things Riglov would enjoy to do to him. "You think you know it all, just how you'd kill me, how you'd avenge your 'friends'. You think you know anything, everything, that you could fight who you want and win? You dare to think you know what it would take to crack me?"
Riglov leaned in closer for a whisper. "But I know something about you, Shitling IV. I know who Sejanus is, what a friend he is to you. He always seems to be so helpful, and if it's one thing I don't like, it is something that puts a smile on your face." Riglov signaled for the guards to be let in. They escorted a much shorter, similar looking creature to Ash. His face was pale in complexion, his eyes downcast, his auburn hair frizzled and roughed. The iron chains on his wrists held him fast, without hope. He was marched before the throne, over the weakened Ash. Riglov met them there, with a smile on his face.
"The best thing for me is to see a man suffer as he dies." Riglov drew a dagger, and, after examining the blade, thrust it full force into the wall beside the avian. He let loose a laugh, turning back towards Ash. "Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" Right on cue, the guards ushered him out, leading him to somewhere far from this location, perhaps never er to be seen again "You are the man that suffers until he dies, Shitling. If you cross me again, disobey a direct command, or bore me, I shall do a small horror onto your friend. You may never hear their screams, their cries, their pleas ever again. If you fuck up enough, there will be no Sedans left. But here's my favorite part about it all, you will never find him again, but I will ensure from this moment until the last of his days, you suffer as much as he does."
Riglov, satisfied with his deeds, decided for one more joy. He raised his arm up again, signaling the archer. "Here is for the alliteration," he mouthed, the arrow whizzing again into Ash at a place that would not kill him, but surely would make him feel pain, the rightful pain he deserved.
Interacting with:
Morgrim
The beak on this one, who taught him to say such vile insults? For an avian fool, his eyes deceived him, as surely King Riglov was not fat, he was regally presentable. Another arrow could suffice, perhaps one to his gullet and leave him choking on the palace floor. But no, that was not deserved. The stone had not been chipped away from its rightful place so that they may be polluted with this fiend's blood. It made the King wince, the way he pathetically wailed, his anger boiling like his relatives in the stew he served to the troops. He thought he would have it all figured out. The avian fiend Shitling IV dared to imagine that he would find a way out of this mess, that he would topple this kingdom? He had moves, but that was it. He had no free will, he had no family, he had no friends, he had nothing.
But that was not true, for he had something indeed. The King made his approach, confident as he stooped to the avian's level. His wound was rather severe, enough to ensure cooperation for the next moment. "The only thing you'll get, Shitling IV, is me whatever I so please," he uttered venomously, glaring right into the servant's pathetic, disgusting eyes. He should just cut the bird's wings off and see how he flies. He should cut him inch by inch until there was nothing left. He should be thrown on a grill and see how long it takes for him to catch fire. There were so many things Riglov would enjoy to do to him. "You think you know it all, just how you'd kill me, how you'd avenge your 'friends'. You think you know anything, everything, that you could fight who you want and win? You dare to think you know what it would take to crack me?"
Riglov leaned in closer for a whisper. "But I know something about you, Shitling IV. I know who Sejanus is, what a friend he is to you. He always seems to be so helpful, and if it's one thing I don't like, it is something that puts a smile on your face." Riglov signaled for the guards to be let in. They escorted a much shorter, similar looking creature to Ash. His face was pale in complexion, his eyes downcast, his auburn hair frizzled and roughed. The iron chains on his wrists held him fast, without hope. He was marched before the throne, over the weakened Ash. Riglov met them there, with a smile on his face.
"The best thing for me is to see a man suffer as he dies." Riglov drew a dagger, and, after examining the blade, thrust it full force into the wall beside the avian. He let loose a laugh, turning back towards Ash. "Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" Right on cue, the guards ushered him out, leading him to somewhere far from this location, perhaps never er to be seen again "You are the man that suffers until he dies, Shitling. If you cross me again, disobey a direct command, or bore me, I shall do a small horror onto your friend. You may never hear their screams, their cries, their pleas ever again. If you fuck up enough, there will be no Sedans left. But here's my favorite part about it all, you will never find him again, but I will ensure from this moment until the last of his days, you suffer as much as he does."
Riglov, satisfied with his deeds, decided for one more joy. He raised his arm up again, signaling the archer. "Here is for the alliteration," he mouthed, the arrow whizzing again into Ash at a place that would not kill him, but surely would make him feel pain, the rightful pain he deserved.
Crumbli
the Tea Time Tyrant
Leon Gervano Direct:
AnimusLight
| Mentions:
Luckz
He rolls his neck from side to side, standing from his chair and performing a set of strange stretches. He'd been wearing his armour for too long and to be quite truthful, he found it irritating. He loved his armour but wearing it over such a long hike grew tiring pretty quick. He was free now and he planned to make use of it. Sure he was exhausted but who wasn't these days?
He finishes his last stretch touching his toes with the palm of his hand and shakes himself off from his rigidness. "Jezebel, there's a few things I must attend to. Can I trust you to wa-" He turns himself to look over at her. She was sound asleep. His face twitches at the sight. He felt satisfaction in himself for bringing her here now that he could see exactly how quick she fell asleep. He takes a few steps towards the bed with the monk making not a movement.
He grabs her feet that dangled off the edge of the bed and gently placed them up on the bed. The boots she wore looked lightly worn which didn't surprise him from what he'd been able to learn about her. He lowers himself down to one knee as to get a better angle. One positioned he gently pries her boots free from her feet and places them on the ground beside the bed. It was dangerous to allow sweat and grit to remain close to the skin as you slept. Boot rot and other diseases were a serious concern.
He gently nudges her into the middle of the bed where she rolls the rest of the way without his help. He nods in satisfaction with her location and raises from his knee once more. He makes a beeline straight for the table and his beloved relic. Even if she were awake he wouldn't risk letting anyone else touch this sacred relic without him watching. "It can wait. Rest well, little one. I'll return shortly." Leon snatches the scroll from the table and takes up his sword before heading out. He stuffs the scroll down the side of his pants and begins to fiddle with the belt to keep his sword on.
As he leaves he closes the door quietly behind him. With a yawn he turns away from the door and begins towards the downstairs area. There on the stairs stood the inn keeper with towels and fresh sheets in her arms. "That was mighty quick of you." Disappointment was the tone that came to mind and he couldn't understand why. "Removing my armour has always been something I do with great speed."
"Ah, I see. You're going off to clean that muck off your face first?"
"First?" Leon seems confused, rubbing at the dried blood on his face with furrowed brows.
"Are you by chance one of those religious-y types?" Asks the inn keeper. Her face seems to shift in demeanour from disappointment to one of playful intrigue. "I'm a justiciar of Veritas so I suppose I am." She nods making a sound to indicate her revelation. "That explains it. Do you plan on heading to the monastery?"
"Not today. I'm looking to resupply, clean off, and perhaps squeeze in a meal. Do you have something heavy?"
The inn keeper shifts around with the pile in her arms. She was clearly finding it a task to carry the sheets and towels for such an extended period of time. "We make soups, goat legs, salads, we have a stew if you're interested." He nods and continues on past the keeper. "I'll pay when I return."
He takes his leave from the inn and begins to shop around the city. This would be his time to find allies, supplies, enemy counts, anything he could. He wouldn't waste this opportunity. This was a one off chance to scout the city and ensure that everything he needed was there. Veritas be da- Oo a bath house. Leon makes his way into the bath house and after and hour and a half of enjoying the hot and rose scented waters he remembers what he was here for. He leaves the bath house behind after another ten minutes of soaking in the water. To his surprise the bath house was incredibly cheap costing only a few pieces of copper.
Once outside and fully dried/redressed he begins to shop around for supplies. He refills his water skin, purchases a bag of mushrooms, half a kilo of dehydrated meats, and an armful of bread rolls that were only a little stale. Struggling to carry these items due to their awkward nature, he also purchases a sack to carry them in. Thanks to thrifty shopping and the influence of the pantheon's church, he barely had to part with any coins at all. That was done now and the sun was only beginning to lower. He casually peruses the streets near the entrance. He makes his way through some of the more secluded areas and notices a slumped figure dead in an alley way.
Judging by the armour and equipment of the man, it was a guard. Leon gets closer to the man and rolls him over investigating the cause of death. At first he'd assumed it an arrest gone wrong but upon inspecting the neck wounds and small amounts of blood, he could tell it was the doing of a vampire. He takes a step back with his hand on his sword ready for an encounter. Then it hit him, there was a chance it was the vampire he'd been travelling with. He grits his teeth and leaves his sword in place. If she'd already drawn blood there was no telling exactly what else she'd be doing.
He quickly returns to the inn and stops inside at the kitchen bench. On the other side was the inn keeper stirring a pot with what seemed to be her son. He slaps the sack down on a stool beside him and opens it. He takes two rolls from it and offers one to the inn keeper. She seemed to do most of the work. She gives him a bowl of stew and refuses the roll at first. "I couldn't."
"You will or I'll refuse to pay for the meal."
"You can't do that."
"I can and I will. Watch me."
She reluctantly accepts the roll and breaks it in half with her son. The bread was far from bad but it was clear the inn keeper wasn't overly fond of taking things beyond money. Leon downs the stew at a leisurely pace dipping the bread in to clean the bowl before deciding to return to his room. He takes his sack and rises from his stool slowly waltzing up the stairs. On his way up he calls, "If a pale woman enters covered in a cloak, let her enter the room. She can use it in my stead."
"Where are you going then?"
"I've got things to do around the city. I'll return by morning. Rest assured." The inn keeper shrugged not caring too much about him but instead about if he was planning to cause trouble. If he broke laws and the guards could associate the two she'd never hear the end of it.
Leon returns to the room and and closes the door behind him. Jezebel appeared to be sleeping still. "Good," he thought, "Nothing happened while I was gone." He sets his sack down at the table and rereads his scroll, the words glowing on the page as the lights outside began to dim. He stares at the monk asleep in her clothes and decides against awakening her. If he did so, he'd risk her well being and risk sharing the kill of king Riglov. No one would stand between him and his divine targets.
He removes his sword and belt, dropping them quietly to the floor and quickly placing his armour back on. If he was to live up to his part of the plan he'd have to get the gates open. He didn't know if anyone was coming but on the off chance one of his allies wouldn't forsake them, he had to ensure he returned the favour. His armour is firmly fitted in place against his body and he fastens his straps and weapons. He wasn't trying to be fast so it takes him close to ten or fifteen minutes before he's ready. He slips his sacred scroll down his bracer for protection and places his helmet atop his head. He takes a few steps towards the door and looks over at Jezebel one last time to see if she'd yet woken to her own devices.
AnimusLight
| Mentions:
Luckz
He rolls his neck from side to side, standing from his chair and performing a set of strange stretches. He'd been wearing his armour for too long and to be quite truthful, he found it irritating. He loved his armour but wearing it over such a long hike grew tiring pretty quick. He was free now and he planned to make use of it. Sure he was exhausted but who wasn't these days?
He finishes his last stretch touching his toes with the palm of his hand and shakes himself off from his rigidness. "Jezebel, there's a few things I must attend to. Can I trust you to wa-" He turns himself to look over at her. She was sound asleep. His face twitches at the sight. He felt satisfaction in himself for bringing her here now that he could see exactly how quick she fell asleep. He takes a few steps towards the bed with the monk making not a movement.
He grabs her feet that dangled off the edge of the bed and gently placed them up on the bed. The boots she wore looked lightly worn which didn't surprise him from what he'd been able to learn about her. He lowers himself down to one knee as to get a better angle. One positioned he gently pries her boots free from her feet and places them on the ground beside the bed. It was dangerous to allow sweat and grit to remain close to the skin as you slept. Boot rot and other diseases were a serious concern.
He gently nudges her into the middle of the bed where she rolls the rest of the way without his help. He nods in satisfaction with her location and raises from his knee once more. He makes a beeline straight for the table and his beloved relic. Even if she were awake he wouldn't risk letting anyone else touch this sacred relic without him watching. "It can wait. Rest well, little one. I'll return shortly." Leon snatches the scroll from the table and takes up his sword before heading out. He stuffs the scroll down the side of his pants and begins to fiddle with the belt to keep his sword on.
As he leaves he closes the door quietly behind him. With a yawn he turns away from the door and begins towards the downstairs area. There on the stairs stood the inn keeper with towels and fresh sheets in her arms. "That was mighty quick of you." Disappointment was the tone that came to mind and he couldn't understand why. "Removing my armour has always been something I do with great speed."
"Ah, I see. You're going off to clean that muck off your face first?"
"First?" Leon seems confused, rubbing at the dried blood on his face with furrowed brows.
"Are you by chance one of those religious-y types?" Asks the inn keeper. Her face seems to shift in demeanour from disappointment to one of playful intrigue. "I'm a justiciar of Veritas so I suppose I am." She nods making a sound to indicate her revelation. "That explains it. Do you plan on heading to the monastery?"
"Not today. I'm looking to resupply, clean off, and perhaps squeeze in a meal. Do you have something heavy?"
The inn keeper shifts around with the pile in her arms. She was clearly finding it a task to carry the sheets and towels for such an extended period of time. "We make soups, goat legs, salads, we have a stew if you're interested." He nods and continues on past the keeper. "I'll pay when I return."
He takes his leave from the inn and begins to shop around the city. This would be his time to find allies, supplies, enemy counts, anything he could. He wouldn't waste this opportunity. This was a one off chance to scout the city and ensure that everything he needed was there. Veritas be da- Oo a bath house. Leon makes his way into the bath house and after and hour and a half of enjoying the hot and rose scented waters he remembers what he was here for. He leaves the bath house behind after another ten minutes of soaking in the water. To his surprise the bath house was incredibly cheap costing only a few pieces of copper.
Once outside and fully dried/redressed he begins to shop around for supplies. He refills his water skin, purchases a bag of mushrooms, half a kilo of dehydrated meats, and an armful of bread rolls that were only a little stale. Struggling to carry these items due to their awkward nature, he also purchases a sack to carry them in. Thanks to thrifty shopping and the influence of the pantheon's church, he barely had to part with any coins at all. That was done now and the sun was only beginning to lower. He casually peruses the streets near the entrance. He makes his way through some of the more secluded areas and notices a slumped figure dead in an alley way.
Judging by the armour and equipment of the man, it was a guard. Leon gets closer to the man and rolls him over investigating the cause of death. At first he'd assumed it an arrest gone wrong but upon inspecting the neck wounds and small amounts of blood, he could tell it was the doing of a vampire. He takes a step back with his hand on his sword ready for an encounter. Then it hit him, there was a chance it was the vampire he'd been travelling with. He grits his teeth and leaves his sword in place. If she'd already drawn blood there was no telling exactly what else she'd be doing.
He quickly returns to the inn and stops inside at the kitchen bench. On the other side was the inn keeper stirring a pot with what seemed to be her son. He slaps the sack down on a stool beside him and opens it. He takes two rolls from it and offers one to the inn keeper. She seemed to do most of the work. She gives him a bowl of stew and refuses the roll at first. "I couldn't."
"You will or I'll refuse to pay for the meal."
"You can't do that."
"I can and I will. Watch me."
She reluctantly accepts the roll and breaks it in half with her son. The bread was far from bad but it was clear the inn keeper wasn't overly fond of taking things beyond money. Leon downs the stew at a leisurely pace dipping the bread in to clean the bowl before deciding to return to his room. He takes his sack and rises from his stool slowly waltzing up the stairs. On his way up he calls, "If a pale woman enters covered in a cloak, let her enter the room. She can use it in my stead."
"Where are you going then?"
"I've got things to do around the city. I'll return by morning. Rest assured." The inn keeper shrugged not caring too much about him but instead about if he was planning to cause trouble. If he broke laws and the guards could associate the two she'd never hear the end of it.
Leon returns to the room and and closes the door behind him. Jezebel appeared to be sleeping still. "Good," he thought, "Nothing happened while I was gone." He sets his sack down at the table and rereads his scroll, the words glowing on the page as the lights outside began to dim. He stares at the monk asleep in her clothes and decides against awakening her. If he did so, he'd risk her well being and risk sharing the kill of king Riglov. No one would stand between him and his divine targets.
He removes his sword and belt, dropping them quietly to the floor and quickly placing his armour back on. If he was to live up to his part of the plan he'd have to get the gates open. He didn't know if anyone was coming but on the off chance one of his allies wouldn't forsake them, he had to ensure he returned the favour. His armour is firmly fitted in place against his body and he fastens his straps and weapons. He wasn't trying to be fast so it takes him close to ten or fifteen minutes before he's ready. He slips his sacred scroll down his bracer for protection and places his helmet atop his head. He takes a few steps towards the door and looks over at Jezebel one last time to see if she'd yet woken to her own devices.
Morgrim
Dead Like Me
Morgrim and Crow could both hear the small commotion when Roxxi approached them. She moved slow and weakly, looking the meek petty slave she was suppose to. Both of the guards bought it in a heartbeat, believing that any beastkin stupid enough to walk up to them was a slave, and not actually one of the most reputable assassins in all of Landfall. Hiding in the underbrush both Crow and Morgrim could witness as they stole her cane(sword) and hit her over the head with it. It brought a pang of sadness to Morgrim as he put one of his teammates into that situation, but they had little choice, and all out assault would have been completely suicidal.
"Fret not Crow, she is strong, she'll pull it off without a hitch." he assured the boy that was and was not.
He could tell he felt a fondness for her, they were both of shadow, both of them unknown anomalies in the world, so of course they would gravitate towards each other. Morgrim envied the two of them to have such a strong bond already, he too wished he could feel something like that again. He shook it off though, now was not the time for making friends, now was the time for action.
"I suggest you get ready and prepare your strongest abilities, we will be launching our assault in two more minutes, that should give enough time for the wolf to free enough of them to launch a counter strike." He said matter-of-factly. "I suggest on our attack you take the left and I take the right. Split up far enough so we can go all out, I do not want any of my poisons affecting you."
Morgrim was preparing several poison bombs in vials he always carried in abundance on his belt, he had filled them all, and it would probably still be short of what he need. Eight vials would very unlikely take out forty plus guards, even if they were distracted and lazy ones at that. Morgrim scanned about trying to remember their positions, he could see some were dozing off, or all out asleep, while others were gambling among each other, the sound of outbursts of rage, and cheers of victory being clear as money was exchanged. There were the few guards who were actually doing their duty outside keeping watch, which were mostly the ones on the small watch towers armed with crossbows. They would be the biggest threat because a few well placed arrows could take either of them out, even with Crow's speed, and Morgrim's undead constitution.
The minutes passed quick, as a cold sweat lined Morgrim's brow, even he was starting to feel like this was a stupid plan, there were only two of them to take out forty guards, why did so few follow him to them mines, why did so many extra guards come. He cursed under his breath, but this was his fate as a guide, to fight impossible odds and emerge victorious.
"Okay let's go." He said grabbing hold of two of the vials and splitting to the right while he instructed crow to go to the left.
When they were safely away from each other, he ran in. This was not some tv show though where he charges in screaming, no, he does so breathlessly and lobs two of the makeshifts grenades while grabbing two more leaving him with six. The gasses fumed across the battlefield in medium sized clouds engulfing the guards.
"What the fuck is this?!" One said. "Oh god it smells like death!" He screamed as he quickly coughed up blood, as did five others of the guards. The poison was strong, but it would take a few minutes for it to fully kill them.
Morgrim quickly lobbed more of the grenades, causing more screams to erupt from the camp, and soon the guards gambling, and the sleeping soldiers would wake and grab their weapons. All of them quickly running around looking for a source until the confusion started to settle and they could see a robed maniac running around blanketing the entire encampment in poisonous gasses. One of the men on the watch tower spotted him, and armed his crossbow, but Morgrim was lucky enough to catch sight of this and he threw one of his daggers hitting the man squarely between the eyes. The dead body giving him ammunition for his spells as a necromancer. He pulled the bones from his body, and sent a hail of razor sharp jagged bones done on his enemies, while not quite lethal it was painful beyond belief.
The men rushed him with swords and shield in hand, and he was hopelessly outnumbered thirteen to one, he casted a quick spell to summon two skeleton body guards, and drew his own dagger. The skeletons guarded his back, while he struck from the front, and slashed through guard after guard, but he could only trade blows, with each one he killed, one was able to land a strike on him, and put another scar on his body that was already lined with hundreds. The poison made them weaker, but so did every strike he take do the same for him. He was getting slower, and soon was covered in more and more blood of both his enemies and himself. He thanked the gods that he could feel any pain or else he would be wailing bloody murder. He hoped that Crow was faring better then him.
Inheritance
We're only getting older, let's enjoy ourselves.
Elodin Valtara
Of the 13 cities he had been accused of grave robbing, the last one had to have been the most annoying. I mean, if he was to be accused where the hell was the evidence?! The guards came swarming into his house while he was away because of some homeless man declaring that Elodin had been to the graveyard every night for 2 weeks. That's it? He didn't have a shovel or anything, and of course no bodies were to be found, he was much to careful. They did however, ransack his dwelling, and then fined HIM for wasting the guards time-and that was the end of his time there (of course he paid his fine-the zombie plague he had begun should have killed a few hundred people before it was stopped). Elodin left the city in a hurry in search of a new home, one that perhaps might be a bit more useful, and perhaps a bit more witted then the last. It had been a frustrating season, over 4 months without finding anything to improve his craft. No libraries, no magic schools, not even some crazy old man claiming to know ancient quests! Nothing! It was like the world decided that they were too good for him, and that magic needed to be hard to get. Where were all the old masters that were too trusting? What about other necromancers? Was he the only one?!
With anger in his heart, he continued onward, knowing the nearest city was only about 10 minutes from now. Hurrying his pace, he looked up to lay eyes on this city, the 14th place he had called "home". Of course there was nowhere he ever really considered home but...close enough. As he continued towards it, he heard strange noises coming off from somewhere. Not from the city...no...he couldn't tell. However, he could very much follow it, and began to move at a brisk pace towards where the noise was coming from.
It didn't take him too long to find the source, as he saw from a distance, it turned out to be some sort of assault! Certainly, this place was already a lot more interesting than the last place. He looked upon the fight going on, still not interfering. He had learned the hard way that he should wait and see which side he should join-if any, before jumping into something new.
Morgrim
Federoff
The legend of Groose
The Boy who Wasn't
Health
90
Skills
Sense&Temper
Vanish
Cloak of Shadows
Knockout bomb
Twin Claws
Last edited:
AnimusLight
Resident Evil Brainrot
The monk isn't disturbed from her sleep when the justicar goes out for a moment. An exhausted body, especially one that hasn't been sleeping in a bed for such a long period, would be glued to the sheets. The side of her face burries into the pillows, not noticing she's rolled to the center. Her feet are comfortable, the sheets are cool to the touch, and there's nothing life threatening at the moment. Who wouldn't take the chance to sleep?
Jezebel stirs at the sound of Leon returning. He went out? Why didn't he bring me along? Her back is facing towards him and with her eyes closed, she feigns sleep with the correct breathing pattern. She listens to Leon shuffle around the room after he makes his comment about nothing happening. He seems to be keen on moving about quietly but arming yourself isn't quiet enough. She hears his footsteps make his way to the door, fearing he'll leave her out of whatever plan he has.
With a scrutinizing expression on her face, she gets up slowly with a huff. Jezebe crosses her arms, "Don't just leave me here. I want to take part too."
Leon notices her movements on his second check over her. She seemed to be waking. He waits by the door for her to either wake up properly or return to sleep. The former becoming reality. Her mannerisms confuse him and he couldn't help but feel she was annoyed at him for shopping and bathing without her. He could understand why she'd be upset about missing out on the baths, after all they were a delight, but her feet seemed relaitvely clean when he stripped her of her boots. She wasn't overly dirty.
"I'm glad. Assaulting that gate alone wouldn't be easy. Come down stairs and eat, then we'll be off. I have rolls on the table if you wish to have them with your meal. It's already paid for." He opens the door without waiting for her reply and makes his way out. His mind wasn't elsewhere so much as focused in on a set of steps he'd need to follow to overthrow the guards on duty and open the door to their allies. He waits outside the room for to finish getting up or even getting changed though he doesn't recall seeing a spare set of clothes.
The excusing-look drops from the monk's face at the mention of food. Leon's out the door without nothing else to say, causing Jezebelto scramble. She notices that her boots weren't on, fetching them from where they were discarded and hopping on each foot to get them on one at a time. She spots the sack of rolls on the table and in no time, has already one in her mouth. Jezebel carries an extra one in hand as she makes her way out the door, hoping Leon didn't leave her behind. Her haste almost causes her to collide into him in the narrow corridor.
With a mouthful of half-eaten bread, Jezebel says, "Fanks fou waiitin." She chews the rests quickly and swallows, almost choking from her rush. Jezebel continues, "So, guards right? You've got a plan? I could sneak and knock a couple out but it could be tricky if there's a lot." Also I'd rather not do this alone... she doesn't add; to stealthily take down a group of bandits where she lives is easy because it's her territory but to do it here without a few mistakes?
"I've got a different plan. There's twelve on duty." He begins to walk downstairs speaking in hushed tones to Jezebel and her alone. "One of us will need to crank the gate open and the other will have to guard them. Being graceful will take time and we don't have much of it. We'll fight our way in, one of us will crank the doors open, and the other will defend them. I'll let you decide which you'd prefer to do." He brings himself to a slower pace and waves a finger in the air. "Also, our friend with the fangs is here. I saw her handy work earlier. If she decides to join us it may make things a little easier."
Jezebel could do either job but she concludes that Leon would do better at defending than her. The monk's fighting habits consists of multitudes of dodging which could allow a guard to slip past her since she wouldn't be the main focus. She speaks her decision at the same volume as Leon's, "I'll get the doors to open." She pauses, thinking about the vampire. "I do hope she shows up. Since we're forcing our way through, her skills can handle multiple people." The monk halts her comments once the inn keeper is in sight.
Leon nods to the inn keeper and looks to Jezebel. "Then it's decided." He closes the distance on a stool and takes a seat upon it, waiting for her to sit beside him. He wouldn't leave without her now that she was awake and he hoped she wouldn't rush the stew under a misconception he was staying there reluctantly. He was all for pushing limits but starving and fight while exhausted wasn't pushing the physical limits in his eyes so much as they were line between dedicated and stupid.
"Just the stew for you too?"
"Yes, please," answers Jezebel. The inn keeper returns a faint smile; manners are difficult to have nowadays. The lady fetches Jezebel a bowl of stew.Explains why the inn smells pleasant... She glances at Leon, an eyebrow arched up; should they be eating now? The monk takes the seat next to him. A minute later the inn keeper returns with her meal and goes back to whatever she was doing before attending to Jezebel.
"So..." Jezebel says while stirring a spoon in her food. "Do we know when the others will come? Even if we succeed, I don't think staying there for a long period would do us any good..." In a more lower tone, "It won't be long before it's noticable." She scoops a spoonful of stew into her mouth. The ambiguity of her words should allow Leon to piece it together and prevent eavesdroppers from knowing the details. Swallow. "I wish we had some way of communicating." Another spoonful. "It would put my mind at ease."
Leon remains silent until she places a spoonful into her mouth. He wasn't really concerned with being secretive at this point in time. He knew in a few minutes time he'd be throwing men and women from the wall and cleaving those who didn't run in half. It'd be hard to keep the screams silent. "As I said before, grace is costly and we're not exactly flush. To approach the task with tact would take too long. As it is, I doubt the others haven't been noticed."
A passer-by lingers on a wooden beam by the two and Leon seems reluctant to use code terms. He wasn't even sure she'd be able to understand him but it was worth a shot. "The candle burns brightest in dark places. The tomb of undeath is not our venture. If we can keep the prayer true and faith remaining with our cause, then these candles of our vigil will cleanse the sins of man. Like chaff before the wind." The passer-by rubs his chin and sits down at a booth talking to a small girl and woman around the same age.
"Did you get any of that?" He looks over to her with a very bland look about him. No expression seems visible on what little of his face could be seen through his visor and his tone, while hushed, seemed dull and reluctant to be adopting this tone.
Marie was wandering the outskirts of said city, eyeing up escape routes, brothels, work houses, anything one could easily overlook another in. That's when her eyes caught the light of a man oh so familiar entering an Inn. "Leon, pleasant," she remembered his side comments and her face wrinkled in annoyance. "Nevertheless they are in and he's doing his job," the vampiress glided into the tavern in silence, the door only sounding out a painful cry when it was being closed. Her cool pink eyes focused on the monk lady and Leon sat eating with stew and...bread rolls. The woman had her fill and instead walked forward to join them at their seats.
"Leon, Jezebel I see you are indulging," the vampire smiled a closed lip smile to prevent the revealing of fangs and pulled downdown her hood as common courtesy to being indoors and crossed her legs. "I don't like open areas like these, too many vile people," her nose scrunched up in displeasure of the men and women surrounding them as she tapped a dirty nails on the table. Marie hadn't caught any pass conversation and as such sat with poise and elegance as she waited for the two to fill her in. She needed a bath and a seamstress but that'd have to wait for now, she wondered how the monk and Leon were so clean.
Before Jezebel could reassure Leon she understood, Marie catches her attention. She's reliefed that the vampire somehow got past the guards... though she would rather not find out what the woman did. Marie's pale skin does stand out if one where to question it. The monk nods to the vampire as she joins the table. Seeing that Leon is the man-with-the-plan, Jezebel glances at Leon wondering if they should leave to a better spot to have a discussion.
With the vampire beside them he finds himself feeling more lenient in the recklessness of their assault. He wasn't often in favour of blind violence holding the place of coordinated strategy but with time being of the essence and their skills being shared, he suspects that any holes in their in-the-moment planning won't be much of an issue. "I'd offer you a bread roll, but I saw you'd already taken the liberty of finding a meal." His tone takes on one of disgust and a quiet rage. He couldn't stand the fact he called a vampire his ally.
"You'll be working with Jezebel. I'll clear the area with you. Once done, I want you two to get somewhere safe or find a suitable area to wait for the others at. I'll direct them through or, if no one comes, I'll try and come to you." He looks Marie up and down, his eyes fixing to hers. "If you found somewhere suitable I need you to speak up." He pauses for her answer before adding on, "If I don't arrive it's likely I've been taken captive in which case I don't want you to worry about a rescue plan. Focus on surviving for now and once you reunite with the others, come up with a strategy to bring the king to justice."
The monk's eyes dart back and forth between the justicar and vampire. The tension is thick enough to be cut through. Jezebel does her best to ignore, scarfing down the last bits of her stew. She wipes the corner of her mouth with an arm, glancing over to Marie while Leon explains the plan further. She stops herself from speaking up when Leon mentions the chance of being captured; she shouldn't worry since the man is capable but from the events that had happened not to long ago... anyone can worry right? The monk nods to his strategy, despite the slight worry.
Marie rolled her eyes at Leon's attitude. Pathetic and childish but he was honest which she actually respected. "Leon I have no qualms with you, you have it with my race so please stop being a prejudice piece of shit," she said nonchalantly before turning to Jezebel and watching her eat. Marie liked the two very much and Jezebel's abilities were impressive. "I'd be honoured to work along side Jezebel here," she listened more to the plan and nodded. A place to regroup? She hasn't seen anywhere glaringly obvious for the group but her gears were turning.
"Not anywhere that comes to mind for the moment, I've been looking but the best place would probably be a public area to blend in," she said thoughtfully before hearing him mention being taking. "Of course, the mission comes first, if I can get in there I can poison him and he'd die very soon, no doubt but I trust this in your hands Leon, 'tis a shame you can't do the same," Marie pulled her hood further down her face as a child came wandering by, she tugged at her cloak and Marie shooed her away carefully.
Jezebel tips the bowl, trying to get leftover drops of stew to fall into her mouth. She shakes it a bit before placing it back down with a satisfied sigh. With a nap and a sated stomach, she's ready to brawl some more. The inn keeper notices the monk has finished and asks, "Seconds?"
She shakes her head, grinning, "No thanks. It was great though!" The lady seems a bit joyed by Jezebel's kindness, heading back to the kitchen with a faint smile. Jezbel stretches her limbs, cracking her limbs before glancing at her two companions.
"Ready to head out?"
Morgrim
Dead Like Me
(Apologies for my absence I have been working six shifts a week for the past 3 or so now, and today was basically my first free day.)
King Riglov the un-rightous had really hit the nail on the head when he brought Ash's friend in; Sejanus. Errant thoughts of worry flooded through his mind, memories of how the were sweet on each other, exchanging the few brief moments of happiness and peace that they could in the still hours of the night. For their entire time in the city they had been slaves, victims, and helpless. Their vulnerability was shared and they consoled in each other. Riglov made it clear he knew about it, or that he recently found out, and was taking even that away from Ash. He could do naught by lay his head down in shame, and submit to the whims of his king. Sejunas would be taken away, and there was nothing he could do about it, never before had he felt so weak and powerless then in his service to the king. He didn't utter a single word as tears slithered down in cheeks onto the carpet floor that had been soaked red with Silver Legion blood.
Just to kick him while he was down Riglov signaled the same archer to loose another arrow into his battered body, he let out another yelp of pain as it hit a nerve, and blood trickled down from where the arrow head struck him. He knew not to pull it out here, if he did he would just receive another shot and it would hurt all the more. Thank the lords though as two people entered the throne room. A human that he recognized to be the captain of the guard. An admittedly handsome human that was known to be flirtatious, and the fae creature that was adviser to Riglov, a frigid unforgiving soul whose abilities reflected their personality in perfect parallel; cold. This meant he could leave though, as Riglov had said on multiple occasions that he was not fit enough to lick their boots let alone be in the same room as them when Riglov was around.
He departed wordlessly, wings draping low behind him as he didn't have the strength, nor the willpower to hold them up high. He was exactly what the king wanted to see, a bird with broken wings. He kept his gaze held low, but still bowed as he passed the two. He would go back to his barracks, or more accurately the Silver Legion horse pens. He would dress his wounds, and will each step he took he told himself he would kill the king, and free his friend. He told himself it again and again until even he believed it. He would wait until night, and strike then. He would kill that tyrant, even if it meant his death.
King Riglov the un-rightous had really hit the nail on the head when he brought Ash's friend in; Sejanus. Errant thoughts of worry flooded through his mind, memories of how the were sweet on each other, exchanging the few brief moments of happiness and peace that they could in the still hours of the night. For their entire time in the city they had been slaves, victims, and helpless. Their vulnerability was shared and they consoled in each other. Riglov made it clear he knew about it, or that he recently found out, and was taking even that away from Ash. He could do naught by lay his head down in shame, and submit to the whims of his king. Sejunas would be taken away, and there was nothing he could do about it, never before had he felt so weak and powerless then in his service to the king. He didn't utter a single word as tears slithered down in cheeks onto the carpet floor that had been soaked red with Silver Legion blood.
Just to kick him while he was down Riglov signaled the same archer to loose another arrow into his battered body, he let out another yelp of pain as it hit a nerve, and blood trickled down from where the arrow head struck him. He knew not to pull it out here, if he did he would just receive another shot and it would hurt all the more. Thank the lords though as two people entered the throne room. A human that he recognized to be the captain of the guard. An admittedly handsome human that was known to be flirtatious, and the fae creature that was adviser to Riglov, a frigid unforgiving soul whose abilities reflected their personality in perfect parallel; cold. This meant he could leave though, as Riglov had said on multiple occasions that he was not fit enough to lick their boots let alone be in the same room as them when Riglov was around.
He departed wordlessly, wings draping low behind him as he didn't have the strength, nor the willpower to hold them up high. He was exactly what the king wanted to see, a bird with broken wings. He kept his gaze held low, but still bowed as he passed the two. He would go back to his barracks, or more accurately the Silver Legion horse pens. He would dress his wounds, and will each step he took he told himself he would kill the king, and free his friend. He told himself it again and again until even he believed it. He would wait until night, and strike then. He would kill that tyrant, even if it meant his death.
JokerValentine
We Out
Interacting with:
Crumbli
Anaxileah
Mentions:
Morgrim
It had pleased him greatly to see his avian servant bathe in his own blood, arrows protruding from him like the chains of servitude that bound him here. The foul creature's equals were so pleasing to the king, who couldn't help but smile as he took a mild sip from his wine. He was debating a third arrow to be used, but as if on cue, two very much expected guests had entered the throne room, two very trus-... no, useful resources to his reign. It pleased him to see the brilliant leadership of the Silver Legion, and perhaps Chrysalis to an extent as well. They saluted him, as was the custom. Theo, the spritely younger guardsmen, was rather talented. He had his numerous flaws, sure, but his dedication was decent. He knew what the fight truly was, in his mind and inches heart. Chrysalis, she was perhaps convinced of the fight, but she too had her flaws, but even then, Riglov could only hope she wouldn't betray the cause. She hadn't so far.
"It is a pleasure to see you Theo," the king greeted with an ecstatic happiness on his voice, which changed in the next set of words, "as well as you, Chrysalis." He had his personal feelings about her, her kind, it was something he could not overlook. She had her talents, she had served him well, but doubt always remained. He was tough on her, as her loyalty was surely at stake. Thus, with her he was always on guard. The king turned to his side, looking at the poorly limping excuse of a mortal, his bodice perfectly shattered. The trail of blood which followed him added to the barbaric nature of the king entirely. "I was forced to entertain myself with Shitlng IV. He found it rather pleasing to himself to defy my orders, to act as if he is nothing more than rubbish. Cruel, yes, but it is more than fair."
Riglov was hardly one for showing weakness. Hence was his character. He didn't love to be cruel, he needed to be. If anyone did not fear him, what good was his crown? Would they rebel under his weakness and slaughter his family? Would those fiendish wastes of oxygen that they called other-kin cause havoc to the Silver Legion? Not on his watch. And even then, Shitling needed to be taught a lesson, a lesson he would not soon forget up until the day he died. Or the day he wish he had, whichever came first. And if the time came where Chrysalios stepped out of line, defied his orders, showed she was unworthy of her title, so too would her fate be. Hell, even Theo could follow the same line, but he was perhaps much better off.
"Now, I expected something out of you both. I was told of rumblings about a supposed band of flower-spreaders coming to cause havoc. I sent out some of the best soldiers I had, and they did not return." The king's smile seemed to fade at that mention. "Now, it seems that both of you have been absent from these affairs. And you have also been absent of explaining to me the situation in detail. Am I not your king," the king asked with a slightly annoyed tone, his frustration quickly becoming seen. "This band of men, these foolish pieces of dung that have perhaps snuffed so much Turkweed that they cannot see their hands in front of their faces without bursting out laughing... what can you tell me about them?"
Crumbli
Anaxileah
Mentions:
Morgrim
It had pleased him greatly to see his avian servant bathe in his own blood, arrows protruding from him like the chains of servitude that bound him here. The foul creature's equals were so pleasing to the king, who couldn't help but smile as he took a mild sip from his wine. He was debating a third arrow to be used, but as if on cue, two very much expected guests had entered the throne room, two very trus-... no, useful resources to his reign. It pleased him to see the brilliant leadership of the Silver Legion, and perhaps Chrysalis to an extent as well. They saluted him, as was the custom. Theo, the spritely younger guardsmen, was rather talented. He had his numerous flaws, sure, but his dedication was decent. He knew what the fight truly was, in his mind and inches heart. Chrysalis, she was perhaps convinced of the fight, but she too had her flaws, but even then, Riglov could only hope she wouldn't betray the cause. She hadn't so far.
"It is a pleasure to see you Theo," the king greeted with an ecstatic happiness on his voice, which changed in the next set of words, "as well as you, Chrysalis." He had his personal feelings about her, her kind, it was something he could not overlook. She had her talents, she had served him well, but doubt always remained. He was tough on her, as her loyalty was surely at stake. Thus, with her he was always on guard. The king turned to his side, looking at the poorly limping excuse of a mortal, his bodice perfectly shattered. The trail of blood which followed him added to the barbaric nature of the king entirely. "I was forced to entertain myself with Shitlng IV. He found it rather pleasing to himself to defy my orders, to act as if he is nothing more than rubbish. Cruel, yes, but it is more than fair."
Riglov was hardly one for showing weakness. Hence was his character. He didn't love to be cruel, he needed to be. If anyone did not fear him, what good was his crown? Would they rebel under his weakness and slaughter his family? Would those fiendish wastes of oxygen that they called other-kin cause havoc to the Silver Legion? Not on his watch. And even then, Shitling needed to be taught a lesson, a lesson he would not soon forget up until the day he died. Or the day he wish he had, whichever came first. And if the time came where Chrysalios stepped out of line, defied his orders, showed she was unworthy of her title, so too would her fate be. Hell, even Theo could follow the same line, but he was perhaps much better off.
"Now, I expected something out of you both. I was told of rumblings about a supposed band of flower-spreaders coming to cause havoc. I sent out some of the best soldiers I had, and they did not return." The king's smile seemed to fade at that mention. "Now, it seems that both of you have been absent from these affairs. And you have also been absent of explaining to me the situation in detail. Am I not your king," the king asked with a slightly annoyed tone, his frustration quickly becoming seen. "This band of men, these foolish pieces of dung that have perhaps snuffed so much Turkweed that they cannot see their hands in front of their faces without bursting out laughing... what can you tell me about them?"
Anaxileah
From the Depths of Hell
Javax
The Shadow
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Morgrim
Dead Like Me
Morgrim Hemwick
Locations: Mine
Status
ying
Locations: Mine
Status
yingAmber hues fought endlessly with the darkness of the mines, as the hungry flames of the torch scones reached out to all the people and beastkin that passed by, fighting for freedom and life. Blood streaked across the floor and walls in violent flourishes as claw and tooth sunk into flesh, and pried the swords, shields and maces from the beastkin's captors. The silver legion had been so surprised, and so quickly executed that they could hardly launch a counter-offensive. For every slave that died, five of the guards lay dead or beaten without remorse, and there were already more slaves to begin with. The sound of screaming, and wheezing coughs filled the mines, to where even those in the city could hear, it was a warning for all those that claim the silver banner as their own, a warning that would be exacted with blood, and far more than a pound of flesh.
As the Lythari fought her fight, and shared her own wounds so did Morgrim. His body was lined with dozens of new scars, and blood soaked his flaking, rotting body. A ring of dead bodies surrounded him, all covered in sores, blood, and pus, as the very flesh was peeling away from his cruel poisons. He fared hardly any better though. He'd lost his left arm in the fight, and his head was swimming in a dizzy tide from all the blood he had lost. Some funny little part of him believed that the boy who was not would have actually helped him in the fight instead of just dropping a sleep bomb, and retreating in the mine. It took all of his strength to not pass out there and then, and lay in the grass that was withered and red. He'd have to find the reptile, he wasn't sure, but maybe her healing powers could assist him in his current predicament. First he would have to stop the remaining blood from gushing out of the void where his left arm use to be.
He pulled out a knife made from the bone of a hydread, it glistened even in the early moonlight, and the jagged blade looked like it was baring teeth at the corpses below him, he picked an unfortunate man that was an inch away from death, and weakly begging for his life, Morgrim loomed over him with a malicious visage. "Oh it will be over soon slaver believe me." He looked to see where exactly his own arm was cut, and lined the dagger up to about the same point on the dying man's arm, and sawed at it while the dying man screamed a scream that could only be heard by Morgrim. three minutes later he pulled the limb arm off of it's previous owner's body, and pressed it into his own socket. Casting a spell from his home school of necromancy, the limb started to atrophy to his, and blend into it until nerves and muscle connected. No amount of magic could make it look like his own arm, but for now it was his. He flexed the arm to see how it felt, and it would do. "I'll never get use to that feeling, but you'll do for now." He got up, and a wave of nausea overwhelmed him, he may not be hemorrhaging blood anymore, but he would need treatment and then rest.
He weakly limped into the mine, passing through the smokey green miasma of death, and dispersed it with a spell. It would be safe for people to leave now. When he looked inside he could see that Roxii was as much an artist as him, both their colours crimson red, and the canvasses the very earth. Red it was outside, red it was inside, dead bodies barely recognizable everywhere. They may fight for good at the moment, but they were both killers through and through. Maybe they should exchange tricks sometime, a lesson on anatomy from an assassin, and a lesson on poisons from a necromancer. Seemed a fair trade in Morgrim's fading consciousness. He then noticed wounded (ex)slaves trickling through one of the passages, looks of pain, mixed with happiness on their faces. They were free now, and they more then earned it. Morgrim could see it in their eyes though, they wanted more. The guards were not enough for them, they wanted to end the reign of those sitting in their ivory towers, feeding on spiced meats and wines while they worked eighteen hours a day for stale bread. They wanted more blood. Morgrim would be happy to see their desires enacted.
He found the lizard not to far away treating others, and he coughed to get her attention, ignoring the small amount of blood that escaped his lips when he did. "I hope you don't mind my interrupting nurse Wylloh, but I could use some medical attention." He motioned to the dozen of cuts and puncture wounds that were still bleeding onto the floor, and tainting the soil below him even further. "I really hope your healing works on undead too, or I am jolly well fucked." He said with a hardly subtle hint of sarcasm. He had to hold the wall beside him for support, as he coughed again this time more violently.
Meanwhile in the city.
People slowly lurched from the homes onto the streets, looking around in the twilight of the night. Bodies crowded the town square, forming rings around the fountain depicting a statue of Riglov 'the kind'. They looked around like lambs that had just heard the cry of a wolf, panic on their faces, as they had all heard the distant screams and explosions coming from the mine. They had all expected terrible things to have happened, but no one dared guess the truth. The slaves were free, and they were out for blood like sharks in the water. It was then that a guard captain, face masked by shadows emerged from the barracks clad in full silver armor. "Everyone please, please remain calm. Everything is alright, and the Silver Legion have this all under control. Go back to your homes." No one recognized the man, but they sure as hell knew the sigil on his armor, he was a captain, and they all murmured soft whispers, before heading back to the domains. Soon the streets were emptied out, and only the captain remained. Only he wasn't exactly a captain, but a man that had killed a captain and stolen his clothes.
This man was a man named Lorne, a man of shadow that had empathized with the slaves, and wanted to see them free'd for a very long time. With all the trouble going on he was sure that time was now, and if he could help out, by selectively assassinating other captains, and keeping the public in check maybe things would go even better. Going back inside the barracks he looked around at his work, bodies pinned to the walls by spikes made from shadow. He waltzed over to a table with a half eaten meal, a dimly lit candle, and a list of names and locations. The list of all the captains working that night, and where they were posted. He was an efficient man and would start from the very top, and work his way to the very bottom, by the time anyone realized what was going on they would all already be dead. He left the room in the mess he had made, and started with the first tower, blade in hand, and shadow magic prepped to skewer anyone who dared fuck with him.
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Alstromeria
Florian Society Member
Riktos hesitated.
Well sure, a good fight was a good fight. Nothing would change that. But this fight didn't seem like a good one. Riktos thought about the times he'd fought with others. There was kinship. There was brotherhood. It didn't matter what they were doing, most of them were men, and they all enjoyed a good battle, and a good drink for free at the tavern where they woudl share the story of it afterwards. And those of them that weren't men, well, those were possibly more interesting than the battle itself. But there wasn't the jolly businesship that the life of a professional fighter had here. This wasn't some contract to take a head, or a bridge that had to be held. He could smell the blood from the cavernous mines, and pick up screams and shouts and yells and hollars of those that fought and those that died. Riktos was not a fan of this. He wasn't fighting with family. He was fighting with a pack of wild animals. Freeing more wild animals. As bad as that sounded, it was meant figuratively. But in the name of all things that walked the earth, those that walked two worlds fought harder and fiercer than anything other than the wild beasts themselves.
Riktos hesitated once again. A bit more this time.
He wasn't hesitating on the thought of leaving. He was hesitating on walking towards the mines. Squatting and pressing his ear to the ground, Riktos listened for a specific set of footsteps. A couple, actually. He found all of them. The stomp-scritch gait of the undead guide, the light pattering of Roxii's dancing footwork, and the light wisps that could only be Crow gliding across the ground. He also heard the steady gait of Alaria. Running this way, that way, all the ways. Helping, healing, mending in any way she could. The beorning sighed, standing up. He wished he had that kind of spirit. The kind of conscience that wanted to make the world a better place no matter the cost. The spirit of nurturing, the desire to set the land right. The thought almost convinced him to join the fight. But that mindset had in common what Riktos did with staying. He didn't.
The massive man shifted his bulk to his feet, letting out a sigh and taking a step away. Then he remembered something. When he had pressed his ear to the earth, he had heard other footsteps. Heavy ones. The ironclad boots of man, stomping their way around the land they thought was theirs. There had been so many in the mines, Riktos neglected to observe the ones above ground. His lack of foresight had lead to a painful reminder to do better next time, a hasty command to fire.
One arrow thudded into the top of his shoulder. One wizzed by his head, and two others sank themselves into his back. With a growling shout, Riktos stumbled, nearly falling over, but digging his fingers into the ground and taking off. He should have left after the fight with the wolves. He should have left after the fight with the bad guides. He shold have left then. Now he was, running with three arrows in his back, loping strides barely making any distance between him and his pursuers. He cursed himself, reaching up and snapping off the shaft of one arrow, then the two others. Grunting in pain, he barreled facefirst into the mailed glove of a captain.
The captain lauged, kicking Riktos in the chest, his sword still in its sheath. Sweat poured into his eyes as he stumbled backwards, hastily drawing his own weapons, his handaxe and his shortsword. Another arrow flew at him, lodging itself in the meaty part of his forearm and out the other side as he held up his massive appendage to block his face. Riktos began to breathe hard, the edges of his vision dissolving into a swarm of angry red dots. Letting out a fierce bellow of pain and frustration as he once again broke off the shaft and pulled the end of the arrow through the rest of his arm with his teeth, Riktos hurled his handaxe at one of the hunting assailants, striking him dead in the face. The force of the blow almost sent fragments of the mans skull flying. The other two bowmen began to back up quickly, and Riktos charged, only to be pushed back by three more individuals who stepped out of the trees. He tried to barrel straight past them, but a few quick slashes of steel, two severed fingers, and a flash of a blade later and Riktos backed up, not liking his odds. At least he wasn't on the end of a blade, and he did give the other man credit for keeping the grip on his sword with two less falanges.
One of them went to disarm him. He was not prepared for the brutish strength the bear man posessed. Their blades were drawn together, downward, and a powerful shoulder rammed into the mans helmet, putting a sizeable dent in the thing. Riktos dropped his sword, now locked crossguard to crossguard and buried a foot deep in the dirt, grabbing the man by the waist and dragging him forwards and up over his shoulder, letting out a war cry as the bones of his opponents back crunched in the most frightening suplex ever known. The axe previously thrown was plucked from the face of the archer, and its bloody haft plunged itself into a shoulder, a neck, Riktos's greatsword was weilded onehanded as if it weighed as much as a wooden staff and the second swordsmen met his end impaled upon it. A bowman was strangled with his own yew shaft, and yet more men ran down the path to gawk in awe at the hairy, mountain of a man who just would not, stop, fighting. All the while the captain stood back, stroking the hilt of his sword with one hand, and his chin with the other.
A spear ended up snapped in half, its head buried into the beornings hip, the rest weilded about overhead like a club. Splinters dug into his hands, blood seeped out of the places that armor didn't cover. They did take him down to his knees, but only just, taking four men to hold each arm, and three to hold his legs down.
The captain finally came forward, an evil, cruel smirk on his face. He was overly ambitios, and the blue eyed, salt and pepper haired veteran of a man who could barely swing the oversized sword he wore as more of a decoration than a weapon reeked of all the worse things a man could do. Riktos could smell it on him the moment his dark eyes met those sinister blue ones. This was one of the reasons Riktos wish he'd left earlier: the battlefield had no place for men like this. These snakes belonged in government.
"Any last words?" The captain leered, finally drawing his sword from its scabbard. It was an old blade, but honed to perfection, the weight and use of the blade more valuable than the quality of its steel. The flat edge of its pommel shone gold, the simple bronze metal worn shiny from countless years of action, the rest of the hilt bound in simple leather. The sword was fairly unremarkable with the exception of the etching carved into the broad, flat bottom of the blade: SANGUE SALVAXE. The inscription would be lost upon the common man, but Riktos had known it almost from birth, sooner even. "WILD BLOOD."
"Suit yourself," The captain shrugged, taking Riktos's stunned silence as complacency, raising the sword, ready to strike. "Where." The captain stopped, resting the sword on his shoulder. "Where did you get that sword." A statement. Not a threat, not pleading, not a question. A statement. A Dare? Perhaps. One the captain would not entertain. He hadn't lied, cheated, and backstabbed his way to this title by playing by others rules. "I suppose you'll never know." With that, the captain swung down to decapitate the large man that had fought so well. His axe would make a nice trophy. It would. But there was an explosion.
Bodies. Some alive, some dead. Flying. All of them, flying everywhere. The sword sang out, ripped from the captains hands and stuck into the ground with a vibrant hum. In another fluid motion just like the first, Riktos brought up his arm, clutching the belt dagger of one of the other men, straight up into the air to deflect a blow. Blood flew, bruises were exchanged, and the bear man fought with his bare bear hands, two hunks of meat the size of canned hams, grabbing pieces of armor and smacking them into their comerades, ripping weapons out of the hands of their owners and shoving them bluntly into some sternum or other, tossing men who mattered so little in ways that hurt so much. The hulking individual could be confused for a wild beast, although there was one on the inside that made his spine crackle with energy, a ferocious maw that made his arm hair stand on end to contain, and strength only akin to his that couldn't possibly be tapped from any other source. Riktos slew fifteen men in multiple blinks of multiple eyes, and by the end he had a knife sticking out of his calf, another arrow shaft sticking out of his back, and one hell of a temper. The captain was far worse for wear, god knows how many broken ribs, a leg twisted oldy upside down at the knee, an arm practically acting as an armchair, and blood and staggered breath being forced out of broken teeth by a hand, that massive canned ham hand, grabbing him by the throat, dragging him off his feet and up to eye level with those dark, dark brown eyes that spoke volumes more than the man they belonged to ever did.
"The sword." Riktos said between gritted teeth, "Where." The captain shook his head. "WHERE?!" Accompanied by a vigorous shake, the answer elicited was a stammered, pitiful response. "T...Th-the A... The armory..." and as quickly as the lying, cheating captain with salt and pepper hair was hauled to his feet, he was dropped. He fell like a sack of potatoes as Riktos wiped his hand on his bloodied self, only in succeding in dirtying it more. He stood in front of the sword, that plain but intricate strand of metal with SANGUE SALVAXE etched in the side, staring at it, almost perplexed by its presence. Then with determination, Riktos grasped it by the hilt, pulled it out of the ground, and flicked it to the side to rid it of the dirt, which slid off the blade like water.
Both Riktos and his Wild Blood turned towards the city. Fueled by contempt for the silver legion and a thirst for answers, Riktos went back.
There was no hesitation.
Crumbli
the Tea Time Tyrant
Leon Gervano & Jezebel Batal & Marie SilvertonCollab:
AnimusLight
Luckz
Without another word Leon turns towards the door. He takes his leave and decides that their walk would be best spent in silent contemplation rather than idle chatter. Although there was something he wanted to let the vampire know before it was too late. There was more to it than a simple warning. There was a question that ate at him. He just couldn't understand why she'd be this way and not seek a cure. They walk down the cobbled roads together while he mulls over the importance of his warning.
He finds his warning to be worthless. It was likely she could already feel his disdain for her kind. Judging by her disgusting language and inability to display annoyance without fits of insults, he finds himself finding the pain of hearing her talk to be less reward than finding the answer to his question. He'd force her to confess sooner or later and that's when he'd get his answer.
They arrive nearer the gates and immediately his eyes flick between guards. The twelve of before were there with an additional four walking the grounds. Sixteen guards in total. Eight walked the guard tower and passage way above the gate, the rest patrolled the ground below. This made things more difficult but he could clear the guard tower and walkway with ease. He rolls his shoulders and looks to the girls behind him.
He could abandon his team and charge head long, clearing the way for them later down the road. Though they weren't the largest and a few well placed hits could down most men in armour let alone those without it. He sizes up his opponents one by one. Two of the guards on the ground weren't paying attention and those happened to be the two by the entrance to the walk way.
Plans flooded his mind as to who he should cut down first. He couldn't decide until he was abruptly freed from his train of thought. A guard called out to him, waving a hand for him to come over. This guard was the closest to them and his partner seemed to be hesitant of the group as a whole. "Oi! Yeah you. Come 'ere." Leon slowly approaches, hand on the hilt of his weapon. He'd found his first target and he wasn't going to think about plans anymore. Cut him down, beeline for the enterance, clear the walkway and box.
"I'm here. What's the matter?"
"You're a little over plated, mate. It's making the people feel uncomfortable. Mind pissing it off?" The guard was sincere in his regard for the citizens around him but Leon didn't seem to mind at all. He smiles at the guard with his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. "I can't I'm afraid. I can do this instead though." The guard seems confused for a split second before feeling the pommel of the justiciar's sword hitting him in the stomach. He takes a step back as Leon unsheathes his sword. He goes to call out instead makes a loud screaming sound as Leon awkwardly drives the sword on a downward angle through his abdomen. The guard looks at the sword in disbelief and goes to grab at it before feeling it pull out of his body. He falls to the ground in shock and does nothing but shake.
Leon knew he didn't have long to start running. The guards had already started to react. He readies his sword for the fight keeping an eye fixed on the entrance and exit of the gate's walkway. His only goal was to get that gate open and he was willing to cut down everyone who stood between him and that booth. "I'm heading for that entrance, will you two be alright down here?"
Marie had waited for everyone to finish, eat and ready themselves or what not, she reminded herself to buy a new dress before leaving the City and eagerly awaited a bath worthy of a Princess in the Palace it's self. Maybe she'd make it a City of all races, everyone happy and actually free...she'd prefer that much better and choosing a Husband would be in her hands thankfully.
The vampire returned her gaze upon Leon and watched the guard call him over. The rich woman winced and probably thought it best to pay them all but he stabbed the guardsman. Marie moaned knowing she'd have to get close and actually move her body than send her metal companions in and sit on . The vampire uncurled her friends, and cut her arms, lacing them in poison and threw them towards the other man walking the grounds. The snakes burrowed into his neck and out of his eyes before he slumped forward crying out in agony, she delivered a swift kick that seemed like she was a blur and decapitated the man. Marie looked at Leon, fixing her bracelets.
"Your call,"
Jezebel makes a beeline for an incoming guard. Unlike the other two, the monk isn't known to kill most of the time; besides, in her mind, the pitiful guys are doing their job.
The guard swings his blade in such a way that she could easily disarm it. Jezebel closes in, ducking to the side then hitting the man's elbow to disarm. The sword clatters to the floor as he lets out a yelp. She leaps in the air enough to be at his head level and spin kicks her target. The momentum and air abilities strength the blow enough to leave a huge dent in the guard's metal helmet. He crumbles to the floor.
The monk lets out a huff before responding to Leon, "I think we'll be fine!"
Leon nods and begins running to the stairs that lead to the walkway above the gate. The two guards keeping watch over the enterence had already seen the blood shed and while one went to run, the other turned to run up the stairs. Leon grabs the blade of his sword and charges at the man running away from the stairs. His eyes meet Leon's and he finds himself hesitating for a fatal moment. The tip enters his body the side of his body and causes him to be pressed against the wall. He lets out a loud gasp followed immediately by shouting. Leon lets go of the sword with his blade guiding hand and grabs the man by his helmet. He pulls on it before thrusting it against the wall, rendering the man dazed. He does it again and the man falls limp. Leon pulls the sword free and turns to the stairs.
He begins to ascend the stairs where two of the guards are walking down with their hands on the hilt of their weapons. The flight was much too narrow to allow Leon the use of his swords properly and they hadn't yet drawn meaning that neither of the two parties could utilise the passage properly. Regardless, he begins to charge at the two men. He holds the blade of his weapon and uses it much like a spear, impaling the first one and forcing his friend against the stones of the passage wall. The first one falls over as Leon pushes him up the stairs, allowing him to pull the blade free from his chest and focus on the other guard. His friend however appeared less than wanting of a fight, instead letting go of his weapon and running out of the passage. Leon wasn't there to kill them all, but to get the gate open.
He lets the man flee the passage way and ascends to the pill box of the gate controls. There was a crank and the rest of the guards. He has to act fast to ensure they don't utilise their numbers against him. Glowing worms wriggle into his armour imbuing him with divine protection. He knew at least one of these men would get a blow on him. As they began to move he swung his sword wide across, staggering two of the men and driving his blade into a third. With a twist of his sword he pulled it clean from the man's gut went again. Two of the five living guards in the pill box attempt to jam the gate shut as to prevent an invasion force from entering.
Leon focuses his attentions on them, charging at one of the men holding a metal rod. He tries to use it against lean but the rod becomes entangled by one of the glowing worms, being guided away from the armour so he could get to the man with no issues. He collides with him using his shoulder to throw him off, and throw him off he does. The guard hits one of the short stone merlons and bends awkwardly against it on an angle. Wasting no time, he follows up his charge by grabbing the guard by his back and shoving him fully over. With a scream of panic the guard falls through the air and lands head first on the outside of the walls, dying instantly as the bones in his neck shatter and weight of his equipment is applied to his head in the form of a weapon summoned by gravity.
He places a hand on the crank and stares at the other guard. They seem hesitant to charge him again, seeing him as something not unlike a raging beast. One of the five remaining guards makes the foolish mistake of being the first to charge, his blow being parried and his throat wearing a permanent reminder of the failed attack. "Touch this crank and I promise you won't live to regret it."
The guard touching the crank lets go while the others refuse to let him win. They agree to charge him with a nod to one another and instead find him doing the same back. He rams the guard farthest to the left against a wooden pillar before grappling him. A sabre collides with his armoured back as he throws the man from the walls. He turns to another swing of the sabre, guiding it away from him with the flat side of court and following it up with a thrust of his sword's hilt. The man takes a few steps back where his friend decides it a good idea to push the advantage. Before his sword can land he feels the pommel of court collide with his breast plate and then his throat. His Adam's apple become dislodged and instantly his will to fight is lost, replaced by desperation to breathe. The last fighting guard's eyes filled with fear, then anger.
Leon had already killed plenty of these men and he wasn't going to let this man's rage stop him. The man sends a swing of his blade, which is promptly blocked by the sword. He sends another and it too is blocked. Growing tired of toying with the man, Leon waits for him to swing a third time. His skill was lacking but the passion was there. He hoists it above his shoulder but before he can swing, his hand falls free from his wrist. He goes into shock looking at the wound as Leon gives him a less prolonged death. He grabs the man by his throat and drags him over to the edge of the pill box. The man resists with fits of screaming and kicking but finds himself overpowered. Leon turns his gaze to the floor to find something for him to wedge court into, finding a corpse to act as his sword holster for now. He pushes the man down to his knees and sighs looking out over the courtyard inside the walls. He'd taken the pill box.
He pulls his sword from the corpse, the two wounded men making anguished sounds and the last remaining gate operator crying in the corner. He places his sword against the man's neck and shakes his head in disappointment. He pulls his sword away from the man's neck and swings it with all his might across, cleaving the neck 3/4 the way through. He groans as he pulls the blade fully through the man's remaining parts of muscle before kicking the corpse off the edge to the ground below. He turns to the gasping man behind him who held his throat with teary eyes. He runs his hand down the blade and holds onto the sharpened end, nudging the man with his foot to get him into a better position.
The guard's reluctant to move so he follows through with the execution regardless. This man was one of the only ones who'd been wearing a helmet, and thus he had to be stripped of it. He kneels to pull the helmet off before returning to his proper stance. He growls as he swings the sword up and over his shoulder for a downward swing of the sword's hilt against the man's unprotected skull. The guard reaches out a hand to Leon before having the hilt of the blade crack through his nose and into his brain, killing him instantly. He places a boot on the man's chest and pulls on court to free her from the corpse.
Once done he turns his attention to the crank and the crying guardsman beside it. He walks towards the man and goes to grab him by the collar of his shirt. He wasn't well armoured, none of them were. Most of them wore cloth or leather pieces. The man tries to pull away but find himself being pulled out with more force. He begins to scream the word no at the top of his lungs, grabbing onto whatever or whoever he could for safety. He finds none of it. He's brought to the edge of the pill box overlooking the courtyard. Where he knelt was a pool of blood and he knew there was no escaping this. He screams to the courtyard for help, tears filling his eyes and mucus escaping him.
It wasn't a savoury sight and as Leon raised his sword, the man screamed the words, "Mercy! I beg of you mercy!" He stops. He hates cowards, and this man certainly is one, but he has no qualms with the silver legion personally. Something he'd clearly forgotten in his executions. He rubs the sword clean of blood upon the man's back, and grabs him by the back of his collar. "You shall have it, but it must be earned. Open this gate. Now!"
The man nods in fear as Leon hoists him to his feet, pushing him towards the crank. He steps over the corpses and begins to open the gate, Leon helping him in his endeavours. Once opened he takes a pin and locks it in place as to prevent it from closing. Leon raises his hand into the air as a beam of light cracks free, touching the forest's edges to alert them that the city wall were now theirs.
Marie looked at Jezebel and let out a laugh. "Nice," she chuckled before grabbing her snakes and throwing the two forwards as the gate opened. The vampiress spotted a lone guard in the courtyard and nodded. Her snakes, which she had thrown earlier, bit into the man and Marie finished up with a bite to his jugular. "Just what I needed," the lady dropped his limp body and looked behind to see Jez.
"Come on Jez! If you survive this I'll take us out shopping!" Marie chuckled and as far as she was concerned no more soldiers were here until she felt a sharp pain from behind. She was wrong. "THAT'S NOT A HOLSTER FOR YOUR SWORD GOOD SIR! THAT IS SILK FROM THE EASTERN PLAINS!" Marie screamed in pain and anger before ripping his head clean off his shoulders. The vampire slumped forward to her knees hand on her abdomen.
Marie looked up at Leon on the walkway and her eyes burned at the intense light he had sent out before turning to Jez just who was just behind the gate.
The monk follows after the vampire; the sight in front of her is gruesome but unsually entertaining. Marie's like her older sisters with her way of speech but the lady has more bite to her actions. Literally. Just a beat behind, Jezebel wonders if her presence is needed, seeing that the vampire is enjoying the battle.
Relaxing too soon, Jezebel was about to warn Marie of the incoming enemy- but she too- is confronted by one. Barley, dodging the blade, the monk goes low, swooping to the side of the guard before knocking him off his feet. The man lands on his back with loud clatter from his armour. The sword falls out of his grasp and Jezebel catches it with grace. The guard struggles to get up, seeing as the wind got knocked out of him. The monk does a finishing blow- a groan of pain comes from the striked victim; the side of his metal plate is caved in.
Jezebel shakes her right leg, discarding the sword away from the preoccupied guard. She comments, "I swear, they need stronger equipment." Shaking her head, she makes her way to Marie to check u on her. Jezebel follows the direction of Marie's gaze to the burning beacon Leon had sent. The monk squats to Marie's level, "We'll get you to Alria. Our group should be back soon." The vampire will need to healer faster than normal if they aren't getting a break until this is all over.
The light summoned from Leon's palm curves into a U shape hitting the roof of the pill box and returning to his palm where it slowly fades to nothing. The box remains illuminated despite its lack of a light source and causes a burning sensation in the eyes of the guard. He falls to his knees clutching his face yelling, "Fuck! My eyes! What the fuck did you do to my eyes?" Tears form almost instantly as his eyes try to protect themselves from the damage.
"You'll heal. They always do." Leon stops to look out towards the forests and back in towards the city. His allies below appeared to have killed their fair share, and taken a few prisoners as well. He nods and makes his way to the stairs. "You have a choice, boy. You can either run now or fight by my side. Others will be coming and I doubt you'll make it far if you do choose to go against us."
"Then I'll fight with you."
"A wiser choice. Have you ever swung your sword?" He starts taking steps down the stairs ready to rally his allies and send them away to a safer location. "I have but only in training." A smile grows across his face as he approaches the bottom of the stair well. "We'll see what that can do." He leaves the covered area from within the wall and returns to the open courtyard with the monk and vampire. The gates were open, they were alive (barely), and they had another hand to fight with them. "Report?"
AnimusLight
Luckz
Without another word Leon turns towards the door. He takes his leave and decides that their walk would be best spent in silent contemplation rather than idle chatter. Although there was something he wanted to let the vampire know before it was too late. There was more to it than a simple warning. There was a question that ate at him. He just couldn't understand why she'd be this way and not seek a cure. They walk down the cobbled roads together while he mulls over the importance of his warning.
He finds his warning to be worthless. It was likely she could already feel his disdain for her kind. Judging by her disgusting language and inability to display annoyance without fits of insults, he finds himself finding the pain of hearing her talk to be less reward than finding the answer to his question. He'd force her to confess sooner or later and that's when he'd get his answer.
They arrive nearer the gates and immediately his eyes flick between guards. The twelve of before were there with an additional four walking the grounds. Sixteen guards in total. Eight walked the guard tower and passage way above the gate, the rest patrolled the ground below. This made things more difficult but he could clear the guard tower and walkway with ease. He rolls his shoulders and looks to the girls behind him.
He could abandon his team and charge head long, clearing the way for them later down the road. Though they weren't the largest and a few well placed hits could down most men in armour let alone those without it. He sizes up his opponents one by one. Two of the guards on the ground weren't paying attention and those happened to be the two by the entrance to the walk way.
Plans flooded his mind as to who he should cut down first. He couldn't decide until he was abruptly freed from his train of thought. A guard called out to him, waving a hand for him to come over. This guard was the closest to them and his partner seemed to be hesitant of the group as a whole. "Oi! Yeah you. Come 'ere." Leon slowly approaches, hand on the hilt of his weapon. He'd found his first target and he wasn't going to think about plans anymore. Cut him down, beeline for the enterance, clear the walkway and box.
"I'm here. What's the matter?"
"You're a little over plated, mate. It's making the people feel uncomfortable. Mind pissing it off?" The guard was sincere in his regard for the citizens around him but Leon didn't seem to mind at all. He smiles at the guard with his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. "I can't I'm afraid. I can do this instead though." The guard seems confused for a split second before feeling the pommel of the justiciar's sword hitting him in the stomach. He takes a step back as Leon unsheathes his sword. He goes to call out instead makes a loud screaming sound as Leon awkwardly drives the sword on a downward angle through his abdomen. The guard looks at the sword in disbelief and goes to grab at it before feeling it pull out of his body. He falls to the ground in shock and does nothing but shake.
Leon knew he didn't have long to start running. The guards had already started to react. He readies his sword for the fight keeping an eye fixed on the entrance and exit of the gate's walkway. His only goal was to get that gate open and he was willing to cut down everyone who stood between him and that booth. "I'm heading for that entrance, will you two be alright down here?"
Marie had waited for everyone to finish, eat and ready themselves or what not, she reminded herself to buy a new dress before leaving the City and eagerly awaited a bath worthy of a Princess in the Palace it's self. Maybe she'd make it a City of all races, everyone happy and actually free...she'd prefer that much better and choosing a Husband would be in her hands thankfully.
The vampire returned her gaze upon Leon and watched the guard call him over. The rich woman winced and probably thought it best to pay them all but he stabbed the guardsman. Marie moaned knowing she'd have to get close and actually move her body than send her metal companions in and sit on . The vampire uncurled her friends, and cut her arms, lacing them in poison and threw them towards the other man walking the grounds. The snakes burrowed into his neck and out of his eyes before he slumped forward crying out in agony, she delivered a swift kick that seemed like she was a blur and decapitated the man. Marie looked at Leon, fixing her bracelets.
"Your call,"
Jezebel makes a beeline for an incoming guard. Unlike the other two, the monk isn't known to kill most of the time; besides, in her mind, the pitiful guys are doing their job.
The guard swings his blade in such a way that she could easily disarm it. Jezebel closes in, ducking to the side then hitting the man's elbow to disarm. The sword clatters to the floor as he lets out a yelp. She leaps in the air enough to be at his head level and spin kicks her target. The momentum and air abilities strength the blow enough to leave a huge dent in the guard's metal helmet. He crumbles to the floor.
The monk lets out a huff before responding to Leon, "I think we'll be fine!"
Leon nods and begins running to the stairs that lead to the walkway above the gate. The two guards keeping watch over the enterence had already seen the blood shed and while one went to run, the other turned to run up the stairs. Leon grabs the blade of his sword and charges at the man running away from the stairs. His eyes meet Leon's and he finds himself hesitating for a fatal moment. The tip enters his body the side of his body and causes him to be pressed against the wall. He lets out a loud gasp followed immediately by shouting. Leon lets go of the sword with his blade guiding hand and grabs the man by his helmet. He pulls on it before thrusting it against the wall, rendering the man dazed. He does it again and the man falls limp. Leon pulls the sword free and turns to the stairs.
He begins to ascend the stairs where two of the guards are walking down with their hands on the hilt of their weapons. The flight was much too narrow to allow Leon the use of his swords properly and they hadn't yet drawn meaning that neither of the two parties could utilise the passage properly. Regardless, he begins to charge at the two men. He holds the blade of his weapon and uses it much like a spear, impaling the first one and forcing his friend against the stones of the passage wall. The first one falls over as Leon pushes him up the stairs, allowing him to pull the blade free from his chest and focus on the other guard. His friend however appeared less than wanting of a fight, instead letting go of his weapon and running out of the passage. Leon wasn't there to kill them all, but to get the gate open.
He lets the man flee the passage way and ascends to the pill box of the gate controls. There was a crank and the rest of the guards. He has to act fast to ensure they don't utilise their numbers against him. Glowing worms wriggle into his armour imbuing him with divine protection. He knew at least one of these men would get a blow on him. As they began to move he swung his sword wide across, staggering two of the men and driving his blade into a third. With a twist of his sword he pulled it clean from the man's gut went again. Two of the five living guards in the pill box attempt to jam the gate shut as to prevent an invasion force from entering.
Leon focuses his attentions on them, charging at one of the men holding a metal rod. He tries to use it against lean but the rod becomes entangled by one of the glowing worms, being guided away from the armour so he could get to the man with no issues. He collides with him using his shoulder to throw him off, and throw him off he does. The guard hits one of the short stone merlons and bends awkwardly against it on an angle. Wasting no time, he follows up his charge by grabbing the guard by his back and shoving him fully over. With a scream of panic the guard falls through the air and lands head first on the outside of the walls, dying instantly as the bones in his neck shatter and weight of his equipment is applied to his head in the form of a weapon summoned by gravity.
He places a hand on the crank and stares at the other guard. They seem hesitant to charge him again, seeing him as something not unlike a raging beast. One of the five remaining guards makes the foolish mistake of being the first to charge, his blow being parried and his throat wearing a permanent reminder of the failed attack. "Touch this crank and I promise you won't live to regret it."
The guard touching the crank lets go while the others refuse to let him win. They agree to charge him with a nod to one another and instead find him doing the same back. He rams the guard farthest to the left against a wooden pillar before grappling him. A sabre collides with his armoured back as he throws the man from the walls. He turns to another swing of the sabre, guiding it away from him with the flat side of court and following it up with a thrust of his sword's hilt. The man takes a few steps back where his friend decides it a good idea to push the advantage. Before his sword can land he feels the pommel of court collide with his breast plate and then his throat. His Adam's apple become dislodged and instantly his will to fight is lost, replaced by desperation to breathe. The last fighting guard's eyes filled with fear, then anger.
Leon had already killed plenty of these men and he wasn't going to let this man's rage stop him. The man sends a swing of his blade, which is promptly blocked by the sword. He sends another and it too is blocked. Growing tired of toying with the man, Leon waits for him to swing a third time. His skill was lacking but the passion was there. He hoists it above his shoulder but before he can swing, his hand falls free from his wrist. He goes into shock looking at the wound as Leon gives him a less prolonged death. He grabs the man by his throat and drags him over to the edge of the pill box. The man resists with fits of screaming and kicking but finds himself overpowered. Leon turns his gaze to the floor to find something for him to wedge court into, finding a corpse to act as his sword holster for now. He pushes the man down to his knees and sighs looking out over the courtyard inside the walls. He'd taken the pill box.
He pulls his sword from the corpse, the two wounded men making anguished sounds and the last remaining gate operator crying in the corner. He places his sword against the man's neck and shakes his head in disappointment. He pulls his sword away from the man's neck and swings it with all his might across, cleaving the neck 3/4 the way through. He groans as he pulls the blade fully through the man's remaining parts of muscle before kicking the corpse off the edge to the ground below. He turns to the gasping man behind him who held his throat with teary eyes. He runs his hand down the blade and holds onto the sharpened end, nudging the man with his foot to get him into a better position.
The guard's reluctant to move so he follows through with the execution regardless. This man was one of the only ones who'd been wearing a helmet, and thus he had to be stripped of it. He kneels to pull the helmet off before returning to his proper stance. He growls as he swings the sword up and over his shoulder for a downward swing of the sword's hilt against the man's unprotected skull. The guard reaches out a hand to Leon before having the hilt of the blade crack through his nose and into his brain, killing him instantly. He places a boot on the man's chest and pulls on court to free her from the corpse.
Once done he turns his attention to the crank and the crying guardsman beside it. He walks towards the man and goes to grab him by the collar of his shirt. He wasn't well armoured, none of them were. Most of them wore cloth or leather pieces. The man tries to pull away but find himself being pulled out with more force. He begins to scream the word no at the top of his lungs, grabbing onto whatever or whoever he could for safety. He finds none of it. He's brought to the edge of the pill box overlooking the courtyard. Where he knelt was a pool of blood and he knew there was no escaping this. He screams to the courtyard for help, tears filling his eyes and mucus escaping him.
It wasn't a savoury sight and as Leon raised his sword, the man screamed the words, "Mercy! I beg of you mercy!" He stops. He hates cowards, and this man certainly is one, but he has no qualms with the silver legion personally. Something he'd clearly forgotten in his executions. He rubs the sword clean of blood upon the man's back, and grabs him by the back of his collar. "You shall have it, but it must be earned. Open this gate. Now!"
The man nods in fear as Leon hoists him to his feet, pushing him towards the crank. He steps over the corpses and begins to open the gate, Leon helping him in his endeavours. Once opened he takes a pin and locks it in place as to prevent it from closing. Leon raises his hand into the air as a beam of light cracks free, touching the forest's edges to alert them that the city wall were now theirs.
Marie looked at Jezebel and let out a laugh. "Nice," she chuckled before grabbing her snakes and throwing the two forwards as the gate opened. The vampiress spotted a lone guard in the courtyard and nodded. Her snakes, which she had thrown earlier, bit into the man and Marie finished up with a bite to his jugular. "Just what I needed," the lady dropped his limp body and looked behind to see Jez.
"Come on Jez! If you survive this I'll take us out shopping!" Marie chuckled and as far as she was concerned no more soldiers were here until she felt a sharp pain from behind. She was wrong. "THAT'S NOT A HOLSTER FOR YOUR SWORD GOOD SIR! THAT IS SILK FROM THE EASTERN PLAINS!" Marie screamed in pain and anger before ripping his head clean off his shoulders. The vampire slumped forward to her knees hand on her abdomen.
Marie looked up at Leon on the walkway and her eyes burned at the intense light he had sent out before turning to Jez just who was just behind the gate.
The monk follows after the vampire; the sight in front of her is gruesome but unsually entertaining. Marie's like her older sisters with her way of speech but the lady has more bite to her actions. Literally. Just a beat behind, Jezebel wonders if her presence is needed, seeing that the vampire is enjoying the battle.
Relaxing too soon, Jezebel was about to warn Marie of the incoming enemy- but she too- is confronted by one. Barley, dodging the blade, the monk goes low, swooping to the side of the guard before knocking him off his feet. The man lands on his back with loud clatter from his armour. The sword falls out of his grasp and Jezebel catches it with grace. The guard struggles to get up, seeing as the wind got knocked out of him. The monk does a finishing blow- a groan of pain comes from the striked victim; the side of his metal plate is caved in.
Jezebel shakes her right leg, discarding the sword away from the preoccupied guard. She comments, "I swear, they need stronger equipment." Shaking her head, she makes her way to Marie to check u on her. Jezebel follows the direction of Marie's gaze to the burning beacon Leon had sent. The monk squats to Marie's level, "We'll get you to Alria. Our group should be back soon." The vampire will need to healer faster than normal if they aren't getting a break until this is all over.
The light summoned from Leon's palm curves into a U shape hitting the roof of the pill box and returning to his palm where it slowly fades to nothing. The box remains illuminated despite its lack of a light source and causes a burning sensation in the eyes of the guard. He falls to his knees clutching his face yelling, "Fuck! My eyes! What the fuck did you do to my eyes?" Tears form almost instantly as his eyes try to protect themselves from the damage.
"You'll heal. They always do." Leon stops to look out towards the forests and back in towards the city. His allies below appeared to have killed their fair share, and taken a few prisoners as well. He nods and makes his way to the stairs. "You have a choice, boy. You can either run now or fight by my side. Others will be coming and I doubt you'll make it far if you do choose to go against us."
"Then I'll fight with you."
"A wiser choice. Have you ever swung your sword?" He starts taking steps down the stairs ready to rally his allies and send them away to a safer location. "I have but only in training." A smile grows across his face as he approaches the bottom of the stair well. "We'll see what that can do." He leaves the covered area from within the wall and returns to the open courtyard with the monk and vampire. The gates were open, they were alive (barely), and they had another hand to fight with them. "Report?"
Anaxileah
From the Depths of Hell
Melanin-Gxdess
Give up on your dreams and die.
Location;; Mines
With;; Alone
Condition;; Fucking Tired
Mentions;; N/A
With;; Alone
Condition;; Fucking Tired
Mentions;; N/A
Estella Haleth had been fighting for what seemed like forever. Her gear was clean when she woke up that day and now it was dirty with dry mud and blood. None of the blood was hers, of course, but other people who had gotten a little too close for her comfort. Her mission, well the one she was given, was to take care of a group of Silver Legion members with another group of soldiers. It was supposed to be an easy mission but they were all so wrong. The intel they had received wasn't wrong, just misleading. It was way too vague and they had no business heading down the hill to handle it. There were 5 of them, including herself and when they got to the encampment there were over 50 men. Estella wasn't worried, the five of them were the best and if they each took out at least 10, they'd be fine.
Except they decided to chicken out and retreat. But they retreated too late. They were found by a scout group who were tasked with making sure there were no spies. In her mind, if they had just went for it they wouldn't be stuck in the mess they were in, running from tons of enemy men. Even with their level of skill and the number of them, they would not be able to take them all on. The event of it was a blur and she couldn't remember much. One second, her comrades were behind her and the next she saw that they weren't. She quickly climbed a tree to both hide and see if there was anyone still following her. When she saw there wasn't, she hopped down and stayed to the shadows.
It worried her that there was no one following, even the enemy, so she retraced her steps and what she saw was horrible. Two members of her team lay dead, an arrow in their backs. She checked for a pulse and when she found none she panicked. Subconsciously her Shadow Cloak was activated as she ran through the trees. She had to find the other two before it was too late. The sound of laughing caught her attention and she followed it. The other two members were beaten and tied up surrounded by a whole army of men. There was no way she was going to get them out of there, but she would try.
There was wind and she would use it to her advantage to hide her position. Again she climbed a tree and took out her bow. The wind wasn't that strong but it'd do for now. She'd shoot her arrow in such a way that you weren't able to tell where it came from. Bodies started dropping to the ground until they all scattered trying to find where it came from. This left the two men with only a handful of people guarding them. It wasn't that difficult taking them out, a stab here, a few punches and they were done for. Everything will be fine, she kept thinking to herself, she even said it out loud. But they told her to go, as footsteps could be heard returning. She was reluctant to just leave them but she had no choice, they were right. She hated having to leave them there to die but she would avenge them.
That's how she ended up in the mine, having tracked down the group.
along the way she recruited a direwolf to help her. "Alright Ivery, we've got some work to do." The mines, it seemed, were a mess and there was already fighting going on. Hopefully they hadn't killed the people who killed her companions otherwise someone would have to pay. She was giving her bow a rest and decided to use her sword once she got in, taking down any enemies that came at her with ease. It wasn't until she found the leader of the man who killed her friends that she began to have trouble. He was a faster man than she but he got tired faster and it would be his greatest downfall.
She had the element of surprise on her side. He was already distracted and she snuck a few shots in. Of course his armor would deflect them only causing a chink in his armor. He turned and charged at her, to which she was prepared. She reattached her now to her back and pulled out her sword, ready to strike. Ivery was off fighting anyone who dared intervened, so it’d just be the two of them. Each swing of her elven sword he dodged, quicker than she could swing. A swift quick to her stomach caused her to keel over and kneel. He chuckled, calling her a little girl and that’s when she heard it. He was winded. All she had to do was dodge his attacks. It wasn’t easy of course as she gained a few cuts herself but it’d be nothing compared to what she was going to do to him. When he started slowing down she started speeding up, until she had him pinned to the ground. He was bigger than she, so it was a struggle to force her sword into his chest. Once she had, his body stopped moving and the life drained from his eyes. After all the struggling she had gone through, she leaned against a wall, tired from fighting and the over-use of her powers. Ivery whined near her and also sat, much to her surprise. "Guess you're sticking around? Just... Let me... C-Catch myself."
Except they decided to chicken out and retreat. But they retreated too late. They were found by a scout group who were tasked with making sure there were no spies. In her mind, if they had just went for it they wouldn't be stuck in the mess they were in, running from tons of enemy men. Even with their level of skill and the number of them, they would not be able to take them all on. The event of it was a blur and she couldn't remember much. One second, her comrades were behind her and the next she saw that they weren't. She quickly climbed a tree to both hide and see if there was anyone still following her. When she saw there wasn't, she hopped down and stayed to the shadows.
It worried her that there was no one following, even the enemy, so she retraced her steps and what she saw was horrible. Two members of her team lay dead, an arrow in their backs. She checked for a pulse and when she found none she panicked. Subconsciously her Shadow Cloak was activated as she ran through the trees. She had to find the other two before it was too late. The sound of laughing caught her attention and she followed it. The other two members were beaten and tied up surrounded by a whole army of men. There was no way she was going to get them out of there, but she would try.
There was wind and she would use it to her advantage to hide her position. Again she climbed a tree and took out her bow. The wind wasn't that strong but it'd do for now. She'd shoot her arrow in such a way that you weren't able to tell where it came from. Bodies started dropping to the ground until they all scattered trying to find where it came from. This left the two men with only a handful of people guarding them. It wasn't that difficult taking them out, a stab here, a few punches and they were done for. Everything will be fine, she kept thinking to herself, she even said it out loud. But they told her to go, as footsteps could be heard returning. She was reluctant to just leave them but she had no choice, they were right. She hated having to leave them there to die but she would avenge them.
That's how she ended up in the mine, having tracked down the group.
along the way she recruited a direwolf to help her. "Alright Ivery, we've got some work to do." The mines, it seemed, were a mess and there was already fighting going on. Hopefully they hadn't killed the people who killed her companions otherwise someone would have to pay. She was giving her bow a rest and decided to use her sword once she got in, taking down any enemies that came at her with ease. It wasn't until she found the leader of the man who killed her friends that she began to have trouble. He was a faster man than she but he got tired faster and it would be his greatest downfall.
She had the element of surprise on her side. He was already distracted and she snuck a few shots in. Of course his armor would deflect them only causing a chink in his armor. He turned and charged at her, to which she was prepared. She reattached her now to her back and pulled out her sword, ready to strike. Ivery was off fighting anyone who dared intervened, so it’d just be the two of them. Each swing of her elven sword he dodged, quicker than she could swing. A swift quick to her stomach caused her to keel over and kneel. He chuckled, calling her a little girl and that’s when she heard it. He was winded. All she had to do was dodge his attacks. It wasn’t easy of course as she gained a few cuts herself but it’d be nothing compared to what she was going to do to him. When he started slowing down she started speeding up, until she had him pinned to the ground. He was bigger than she, so it was a struggle to force her sword into his chest. Once she had, his body stopped moving and the life drained from his eyes. After all the struggling she had gone through, she leaned against a wall, tired from fighting and the over-use of her powers. Ivery whined near her and also sat, much to her surprise. "Guess you're sticking around? Just... Let me... C-Catch myself."
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Morgrim
Dead Like Me
Morgrim Hemwick
Location: Mines, Heading toward Ellanor
Mentions:
Anaxileah
Alstromeria
Melanin-Gxdess
Location: Mines, Heading toward Ellanor
Mentions:
Anaxileah
Alstromeria
Melanin-Gxdess
Morgrim was thankful for the lizard girl. She transferred some of her own healing to him, and miraculously his wounds began to close. He was worried that her powers would be mute of his undead body, but she really was quite talented. With her having to mend the wounds of both himself, Roxii, and probably dozens of dying slaves he could see it was really getting to her as the sweat trickled down her brow. He didn't complain for a second when she had to switch to a more conventional form of healing; bandages, gauze, salves, and whatever else she had in her bag.When he was bandaged up, and healed to the best of her abilities he nodded in thanks to her. "Thank you Alaria, your talents are exceptionally useful, and you are making a difference in many peoples lives, and my cause. I'm glad you are sticking around." He then heard something off in the distance, it sounded close, and like the clang of metal on metal. Morgrim had thought Roxii had dealt with all the guards, but it appeared someone was still alive and kicking that shouldn't be. "I'll be back, but you should get some rest Alaria, you have done more than enough for now." It was not an order, but he had hoped she would listen.
Morgrim headed to the source of the noise, and he found a strange sight there. An elf and a dire wolf, basking in the faint glow of the surrounding torches. Shadows were cast over them as both had collected blood on the elf's clothes and armor. They looked quite a menacing sight for two creatures of nature. He could tell the wolf was guarding her, so he didn't step a foot closer since he didn't feel like tangling with a dire wolf. He looked down to see the corpse of a Silver Legion captain of all things, seems this could turn out really well for him. "I'm not sure what you plan to do next, but considering what you've just done you will be hunted down by the Legion, or already are. I'm about to take the fight to their doorstep, and if blood is what you want I suggest you come with me. If not thanks for at least helping in the fight here." He turned to leave. She could follow him if she desired, but his concerns were on Riktos now. The bear man sought to take the fight to the city of Ellanor. As capable a fighter he may be he was still just one man, and he had no hope of taking them down on his own, so he would join the fray.
It was getting dark now, and people and quite a few of the guards were heading off to bed now. It would make it the perfect time to attack. Morgrim wasn't too concerned about the guards on post now, the ones that got stuck with night duty were usually the new guards, or the ones being punished. Due to the fact the night shifts were usually so dull and boring, Morgrim was happy to spice things up a little for them. He caught up with the bear man and followed his stride, walking side by side. "You know I was sure you were going to leave the fight, but I'm glad to see you are around, even if looking a little worse for wear." Morgrim didn't know his reason, but he must have assumed it had something to do with wrath or revenge since the beast was fuming mad, and littered with wounds. He'd have to treat him to the Legion's personal reserve of drink when this was all over.
Alstromeria
Florian Society Member
Riktos barely heard Morgrim's words as he nearly took the guides head off turning around. "THIS?! This is NOTHING!" The beaorning bellowed, shaking a few birds from the trees, chirping, startled, that had just settled there in the stillness of the afterbattle. Riktos ripped another arrow out of his armor, tossing it to the ground disgusted, "I've fought five times more men with ten times more skill on my own to protect my comerades! I've spent seven years fighting, and bleeding, and brawling for nothing but GOLD, GLORY, and JUSTICE, and this is NOT IT!"
Riktos knew he was out of line, and unwise, letting his temper get the better of him. His eyes glowed with wild fury, and there was an animalistic growl with every word he spoke. But countless bodies told him that his outburst was warrented. "You call yourself a leader? You call yourself a guide? How many have you led to the slaughter today with lack of a plan, battle strategy, or even information? Four of our companions have died so far. We lost the Fruit Woman. We lost Father Thomas. We lost Belze. We lost Ryan. I was once part of a force that lost half as many men taking a fortress! All these lives, plus the countless slaves that were struck down today, are actual people. They are living beings! They have families that will never know their fate, loved ones that will never understand why they have not come home. All of them are dead. And FOR WHAT?!"
Gritting his teeth and shoving a massive fist so hard into a nearby tree that splinters flew, the giant of a man that was a bear that was a bear that was a man restrained himself from sending another blow at the guide. Shaking the worn, sturdy sword he had found in Morgrims face, Riktos continued his rant. "This sword belonged to my father. My father! I found it clutched within the filthy grasp of a silver legion captain, who has no idea what it is capable of when wielded by one of the wild blood. You led many to their deaths today who have no idea what they are fighting for, other than the idea that they are making this world a better place. I am fighting for my father. I am fighting for the truth. Before I decide to fight any more for you and your cause, you need to come clean about what exactly we are doing, and why such a sorry excuse for a guide is leading it."
Riktos folded his arms. "I am not letting you out of my sight untill you do. And if you still withold why exactly so much death is necessary, I will do the earth a favor, and strike you down the first chance I get."
This is the most Riktos had talked in well... forever about anything. With the exception of half-drunken conversation about nothing or battle reports for jobs he took. He was pissed. He was angry. And he wanted answers other than just vauge promises of wealth or glory. This guide knew alot more about something or other than he was letting on, or else he pretended to for his own personal gain. Riktos cursed himself for trusting the rotting corpse of a man, and he was starting to distrust guides even more. But the deathcries and the bloodshed would stop, here and now, so help him, if the reason wasn't good enough.
"And afterwards, you'd better approach the city with the mind of a tactician, because if not, i am ripping down the gates with my bare hands if I have to. I have a quest, now. I have a sword, and a reason to find its owner. And nothing will stand in my way."
Federoff
The legend of Groose
The Boy who Wasn't
Health
Skills
90
Skills
Sense&Temper
Vanish
Cloak of Shadows
Knockout bomb
Twin Claws
JokerValentine
We Out
King Riglov
Mentions:
Crumbli
Anaxileah
An eerie silence now filled the throne room as the king took in their words with quiet ponder. The keep now faced the danger of a mere eight bastards of nature. Eight had slain his trusted warriors, and had approached the castle walls. These eight degenerate beings had outperformed and ridiculed both commanders he had at his disposal. They dare to ridicule to entirety of Ellanor! Theodore and Chrys' incompetence were now so much more apparent, as their duties of patrolling and keeping the town safe from this filth had failed. Their gentler affairs, whether that would infer inappropriate conduct or not, called into question whether he had a brain at all. As a matter of fact, by merely looking out the window, the faerie commander had gathered more intelligence on this party than the human had in endless amounts of time. "Rarely am I... speechless at the signs of failure" Riglov said, "It is great that even you, a faerie, can be so astute as to remember that you serve your country and king when I summon you, and a human that had such promise cannot even do that. I would applaud you, Chrys, if you had remembered that this party did exist more than three seconds ago!" Riglov's scepter angrily banged against the throne room floor, his eyes nearly popping from his head in sheer burning.
Only now when danger was upon them, did either of the captains appear to remember their duties. The innocent looks on both of their faces, the way a child looks at its mother when it has done wrong, was so aggravating for the king, that if they were any closer to him, he would bite their heads from their bodies. "Well don't look alarmed all at once, either of you! The enemy is not miles off, they are here. They have been thrust from their dull hiding spots, and our at our gates! The very gates you were entrusted with. You do no protecting for however long it has been, and only now you look outside and see the danger? You do not serve the treasury. Your job is to secure the keep. Your job is not to count coffers and drink meade! Your employer is not the fucking treasury! I ought to throw you both in a cell right now and forget of your existence, let the rats gorge your eyes out as you starve, but at least you seem only now to remember what 'captain' entails, so at least you have some use to me." Had they even seen combat? Perhaps not. They were still very much saplings, pathetic ones for the moment.
"Well, seeing as now that your mysterious owner at the treasury has loaned you oh so nicely to me, your king, I am reminded of why I still weird a sword and practice. Since surely, if the role of captain of the guard is so empty as it is today, that I am forced to render my services so that Ellanor does not fall to eight failures of birthright, then let it be so. Answer me this: are you captains, or are you dogs? Do you know how to act, how to think, how to do your job? Or do you obey my orders until the stench of your own shit fills your mind and distracts you from your duty? I do not remember thinking the best of the guard to be dogs, am I mistaken? You are the best of the Silver Legion. You are the best trained, yet you stoop to the levels lower than that of this party. If there are traitors afoot, if they are in the keep, I want them found! If there isa party at the gates, I want them slain!"
So much for relaxing. Riglov, quite enraged now, stood from his throne. His guard detail, glaring down too now at his captains, filed in near their king. "You disappoint me. Both of you. Two heads and not a brain between you both. I thought captains were supposed to be better than this, able to think and act. Find the intruders. Skin the rats and bring me their heads, one of you. The other, do not let this party into the city. I want them alive, on this very floor. And when I slaughter them, I may only then consider either of you to be of the prestige of a soldier. Now get out of my sight."
Riglov now calmly returned to his throne, his chastising diatribe finished, and sat back down, watching, waiting, knowing that a fight was yet to come.
Mentions:
Crumbli
Anaxileah
An eerie silence now filled the throne room as the king took in their words with quiet ponder. The keep now faced the danger of a mere eight bastards of nature. Eight had slain his trusted warriors, and had approached the castle walls. These eight degenerate beings had outperformed and ridiculed both commanders he had at his disposal. They dare to ridicule to entirety of Ellanor! Theodore and Chrys' incompetence were now so much more apparent, as their duties of patrolling and keeping the town safe from this filth had failed. Their gentler affairs, whether that would infer inappropriate conduct or not, called into question whether he had a brain at all. As a matter of fact, by merely looking out the window, the faerie commander had gathered more intelligence on this party than the human had in endless amounts of time. "Rarely am I... speechless at the signs of failure" Riglov said, "It is great that even you, a faerie, can be so astute as to remember that you serve your country and king when I summon you, and a human that had such promise cannot even do that. I would applaud you, Chrys, if you had remembered that this party did exist more than three seconds ago!" Riglov's scepter angrily banged against the throne room floor, his eyes nearly popping from his head in sheer burning.
Only now when danger was upon them, did either of the captains appear to remember their duties. The innocent looks on both of their faces, the way a child looks at its mother when it has done wrong, was so aggravating for the king, that if they were any closer to him, he would bite their heads from their bodies. "Well don't look alarmed all at once, either of you! The enemy is not miles off, they are here. They have been thrust from their dull hiding spots, and our at our gates! The very gates you were entrusted with. You do no protecting for however long it has been, and only now you look outside and see the danger? You do not serve the treasury. Your job is to secure the keep. Your job is not to count coffers and drink meade! Your employer is not the fucking treasury! I ought to throw you both in a cell right now and forget of your existence, let the rats gorge your eyes out as you starve, but at least you seem only now to remember what 'captain' entails, so at least you have some use to me." Had they even seen combat? Perhaps not. They were still very much saplings, pathetic ones for the moment.
"Well, seeing as now that your mysterious owner at the treasury has loaned you oh so nicely to me, your king, I am reminded of why I still weird a sword and practice. Since surely, if the role of captain of the guard is so empty as it is today, that I am forced to render my services so that Ellanor does not fall to eight failures of birthright, then let it be so. Answer me this: are you captains, or are you dogs? Do you know how to act, how to think, how to do your job? Or do you obey my orders until the stench of your own shit fills your mind and distracts you from your duty? I do not remember thinking the best of the guard to be dogs, am I mistaken? You are the best of the Silver Legion. You are the best trained, yet you stoop to the levels lower than that of this party. If there are traitors afoot, if they are in the keep, I want them found! If there isa party at the gates, I want them slain!"
So much for relaxing. Riglov, quite enraged now, stood from his throne. His guard detail, glaring down too now at his captains, filed in near their king. "You disappoint me. Both of you. Two heads and not a brain between you both. I thought captains were supposed to be better than this, able to think and act. Find the intruders. Skin the rats and bring me their heads, one of you. The other, do not let this party into the city. I want them alive, on this very floor. And when I slaughter them, I may only then consider either of you to be of the prestige of a soldier. Now get out of my sight."
Riglov now calmly returned to his throne, his chastising diatribe finished, and sat back down, watching, waiting, knowing that a fight was yet to come.
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