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|Author:||Meteor [ Mon Nov 12, 2012 2:37 am ]|
Whilst Jacks' knife was ineffective, it still provided a point of irritation to the monster, fortunately, the not so brash anymore noble managed to free himself on his own. Now that their group was out of immediate danger, Jacks could relax a little. Standing back to assess their damage and immediate surroundings, a thought occurred to him. It seemed strange there was only the one to confront them. It's not like the Wyrd kin to roam in such insignificant packs, or to have so few numbers within the vicinity. His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Carathyle however, to cut the monster from its other leg was a good idea. Jacks' immediate thought was to engage the creature and distract it, making it lunge at him to provide maximum exposure for his captain to work with. Carathyle sprung into action first, Jacks can only assume he has the same idea as him.
Looking back to the tree for a quick glance to ensure their charge was still safe from danger, Jacks drew his Repeater Handbow out and prepared to provide further irritation.
Use the temporary break he's got to check their surroundings for anything unusual, ensure Naylia is still safe, and if so, engage and distract the Ogre with shots to the face area from his Handbow.
OOC: Something quick and to the point, can't make it fluffy because all my brain power is being devoted into study for end of yr exams here. Will be done in a couple of weeks. Sorry yeah I really need to learn to put a quick note down in discussion thread about these sorts of things.
|Author:||Drainial [ Mon Nov 12, 2012 11:55 pm ]|
In the woods the ogre was down but not yet out. They had it wounded and surrounded that that didn't mean it couldn't crush the life out of one or more of them given half the chance. Carathyle seemed determined to give it just that. In an effort to finally finish it off he shook off his recent squeeze and went on the attack looking to hold the ogre's attention while the others went to work. His shield still lay on the floor where he had dropped it so with both of his arms behind the blow he raked the obsidian sword across the ogre's chest carving a deep grove spurting blood by the gallon. Though a terrible wound by elven standards this was only a flesh wound to the towering ogre however and it was not slow to respond. The diminutive third arm lashed out with surprising speed catching the noble on the shoulder with a heavy cleaver. The pauldron held up but the hit reverberated through his arm and back. The true threat though lay in the brute's two main arms. The fragile elf's body rocked inside his armoured shell as a meaty hand slapped him hard on the chest sending him stumbling back several paces. The ogre lurched forwards, arms outstretched as it sought to entrap the elf again.
Carathyle was not alone however, behind the ogre Syjahel had recovered from her momentary daze and, eager to enact her revenge and keep Carathyle alive for a little longer, she plunged her master work sword into its remaining good leg. The keen tip slid with reluctance through the tough, blistered flesh. Pushed deep with a second burst of strength to sever the hamstrings. All this left Jacks free to do as he pleased. on this occasion his pleasure consisted of drawing his hand-bow and firing several bolts into the ogre's neck and head.
It seemed fortunate in the end that Carathyle had been so unceremoniously smashed out from under the ogre. Suddenly bereft of any working legs and straining to reach Carathyle the ogre toppled forward, crushing its third arm. Now the ogre was well and truly down and with only one good limb left its struggles to rise and fight again were really rather pathetic. Stepping forward from both sides Carathyle and Syjahel closed to administer the coup de grace, Syjahel ramming her sword repeatedly into the beast's spine while Carathyle aimed higher and in a sweeping slash half severed the ogre's mighty head. It had been a difficult fight and had nearly ended two of their party but it was over. Would that it were more than a side show. Jacks was free to take back his dagger, cleaning it on a rag, before sliding it back into it’s sheathe.
Cananatra's battle however was far from done. The golden warrior was pressing him hard but so far he had been able to hold his own, just. He had yet to see much of an opening however and those few blows he had slipped past made no more telling impact on the chaos knight than the mace had had on him. He was bruised certainly but so far the steady pulse of the amulet was keeping him in the game. It seemed to thrive on conflict, the greater his pain the greater the pleasure and the strength he gained from it. Even so it was just enough to keep things at a stalemate, he had to break the deadlock or he would be broken instead. On the plus side the combat seemed to be going well in other quarters. He had little time to stop and stare but Sultra had waded into the press like an elf possessed and already had another knight on the end of his sword. One of his retainers appeared to have fallen but the rest were heartily engaged and they had both numbers and position on their side.
Cananatra had to focus on his own combat however. If striking the rider would get him nowhere, and it seemed not to be, striking the horse might do better. It would not be easy. Blocking yet another thunderous blow from the mace on his upraised shield Cananatra tried to ignore what certainly felt like a fracture and slashed downwards. His blade crunched into the barbed steed's skull. Few animals can take a sword to the head without result and this horse was no exception. Stumbling the horse's movement broke the flowing rhythm of the golden warrior's attacks giving Cananatra time to strike. Kicking back his heels Cananatra forced his mount forward, ramming the enemy’s steed with his bulk and throwing him further off balance. Driving his sword into the knight's shoulder Cananatra was certain the hulking human was going to topple off but at the last moment the winged mace crashed sideways into his leg, denting the plate and sending shudders of exquisite agony shooting through his lower body. This dreadful pleasure only drove him on however and landing another telling blow of his own Cananatra saw the golden warrior smash into the ground where he would be hard pressed to rise again.
As he fought Cananatra was able to take in the end of a bloody battle. Three of Sultra's mail bound retainers hacked apart the last of their Dalvian counterparts just as the wild prince slid his spear through a wounded chaos warrior's breast plate. Looking round the mercenary saw that the prince was the last of the wild riders still alive, the rest having fallen in this mismatched fight. A swift headcount showed that three of Sultra's house hold knights had also fallen in the meat grinder, a reminder as if any were needed of just how dangerous these enemies were. Gazing back at the main clash he could see that it was still going the way of the loyalists, a hard core of warriors and marauders along with many of the beastmen were now surrounded on three sides and a steady trickle of beastmen through the one open channel was sure to turn into a flood given time despite the fact that very few of the fleeing Gors were making it through a withering hail of arrows. The battle looked almost done. Only one thing now remain and that was to take down the sorceresses themselves. At a word from Sultra the mounted force reformed to face the alter in two perfect ranks. Almost by accident Cananatra found himself almost perfectly on the fight flank of the first rank, three elves down from the lord who sat at the very centre. The red haired prince was more at a loss but stayed put, unwilling to give ground.
For the first time Cananatra was able to get a good look at just who they were fighting. Aemili he knew already, blue robed, auburn haired and clutching a long white wand she cut and impressive enough figure with the wind whipping through her locks. She was decisively outshone however by the figure to her right who he assumed must have been Tachar. The older elf was taller by a clear six inches, probably a close match for Sultra in height. Like her niece she was dressed in flowing robes, hers of shining emerald slashed with shimmering bronze which closely matched her long red hair. In one hand she held a long staff resting on the ground.
"So, you are not quite out of tricks yet old man," her magically amplified voice boomed out once again over the clearing, and beyond.
"My army defeated, your little girl whisked away. No magical blood for my ascension." She was still quite a way off but Cananatra was almost certain she smiled as she produced a long, cruelly curved dagger of black obsidian from inside her robe
"Sorry, but if I cannot have a sister a niece will have to do," to her credit Aemili cottoned on quickly and whirled around pointing her wand at her liege lady just as the dagger sank into her heart. The effect was immediate and dramatic. A ripple of invisible energy coursed through the glade, shimmering through the very soul of each and every being. Even the bloody brawl at the heart of the battle paused for a moment, the intensity of the eldritch shock wave startling them to stillness. This though was but the least astonishing part of an incredible transformation. As the body of Aemili sank to the ground and her blood seeped into the black marble Tachar's body convulsed. Before their eyes her skin began to crawl, the robes fluttering and twisting with strange and unearthly colours. She let out a piercing cry of joy as this cultist of Tzeentch began to change.
First to change were the eyes, once green like the depths of the sea of malice they blazed with a sudden white light. In addition to the elven norm a terrible third eye erupted from the centre of her forehead. Nor did the mutations end there, flames coursed down her body eradicating her mundane elven robes. In their place a shimmering coat of twisting colours flickered like enchanted vines across her naked body. More was to come; the changeling sorceresses hunched over as if in pain, perhaps she was for four gossamer wings emerged from her back like a dragonfly uncurling to meet the first rays of sun. Moaning she looked almost fit to faint but yet more limbs were yet to grow. From twisting skin down her silken flanks two new arms grew with startling speed, perfect replicas of the pair above. Finally the transformation was complete. From start to finish it had lasted less than a minute and in that minute no one had moved (though combat had resumed behind them), it was a shocking thing to see the birth of a daemon princes.
When the process was complete the daemon raised its head and in a voice that was at once exactly the same as Tachar's and at the same time jarringly different announced
"That's better. I see... so much now" her head snapped to one side, gazing (unbeknownst to Cananatra) directly at Naylia and her mercenary carers.
"There you are dear sister, let us gather all the family together, the better to end things here and now." More magic followed, less flashy than that of the sorceresses mere moments before but somehow more powerful for all that. The air before them rippled briefly and Naylia, Syjahel, Jacks and Carathyle along with the two shades Hictib and Elitil were deposited on the ground.
This seemed to break the spell of silence that held the party silent, when Sultra spoke his voice was not enhanced through arcane means but for all that it was redolent with power and authority as he said
"Daemon or not daughter you are quite right, your abominable cult has blighted this nation and the honour of our family for far too long. Charge!"
This last was directed not at Tachar but rather his riders who kicked their steeds into motion a second after their lord. As the horses thundered towards the ziggurat the daemon/lady smiled yet again.
"Then let's have a little privacy" In the wake of the riders the air was rent by a fiery portal out of which poured four gibbering daemons. Syjahel and Carathyle recognised them well from a battle not so long ago. Horrors of Tzeentch. Sultra and his retinue were free of them and on to engage Tachar herself, if the mercenaries had any designs on helping him however they would have to deal with a daemonic body guard. Even if they were content to let that battle play out it was unlikely that they would be left alone.
Quite a bit of change happening in this post. The ogre is dead. You are all together again (Cananatra mounted) about 20 feet from the alter. Between you and the alter however are four blue horrors. All of the Chaos Knights are dead. The Infantry are still engaged but that battle is now decisively in favour of Sultra's forces. The Prince is also with you are Naylia and the two shades. Most of you are a bit battered but none seriously injured (Carathyle is probably the worst off, Cananatra second). -Drainial
|Author:||Cananatra [ Tue Nov 13, 2012 8:07 pm ]|
The fight had slipped into a rhythm that Cananatra was swiftly coming to appreciate. The mace rose and fell in a pattern, tantalisingly out of his grasp though once in a while he could see a gap and those times his sword would lick clear to bounce harmlessly off the chaos warrior. It seemed to be having as little effect on the chaos warrior as his own attacks where having on the elf, though Cananatra could most certainly feel the hits. Constant pounding redirected though it was through his shield was still sufficiently powerful to begin to raise some serious bruises on his left arm and shoulder. The shield was starting to feel heavier too, though the amulet he wore seemed to pulse with greater urgency the tougher the fight. No doubt to aid a chaos follower in championing his god, Cananatra thought in amusement. Whatever the reason he was glad of it, for the flashes of pleasure and increased speed and strength where the only things that allowed him to meet the chaos warrior head to head while riding the damn horse, which still occasionally insisted on doing what it felt like.
Realising it was about time he seriously tried to kill off this chaos warrior Cananatra set about attacking a somewhat softer target than the warrior himself. Blocking yet another powerful blow with his shield Cananatra lashed out at the face of the horse which bore his opponent. As planned the beast of burden was not expecting to get a sword in the face and it didn’t like the experience one bit. The horse shying was all he needed to open up the chaos warriors defence and Cananatra quickly pressed his advantage by forcing his horse closer to unleash more attacks of his own. His blade slammed into the chaos warriors shoulder in what must knock the warrior off his horse, unfortunately even unbalanced the warrior managed to counter-attack and Cananatra’s blade and shield where totally out of position to stop it. The mace thundered into his thigh. The armour, well crafted though it was, could not fully blunt the blow and with a pop of protest bent under the blow. Snarling in anger Cananatra slammed another blow into the unbalanced warrior and was rewarded with him crashing off his horse.
At long last having some time to view his surroundings Cananatra could see Sultra’s knights had broken the back of the enemy cavalry, though too late to save any other than the forest prince and the mercenary. Further across the field the battle was going well. The chaos army was folding upon itself and the rear attack continued to mow them down. At least part of my plan went to plan, Cananatra thought as he heard Sultra shouting new orders to reform. Resting his blade briefly on his saddle Cananatra reached down and loosened the armoured plate on his leg slightly to stop the dent cutting off blood flow while trying to urge his horse into something resembling formation. While he was doing so the enemy sorceress apparently had other ideas on how the battle should play out, and a swift bit of betrayal had he transforming into some demon powered monster. It was rather disconcerting, though not nearly so much as her next action which blithely teleported his comrades into the open from wherever they happened to be fighting, and judging from the state of them they had been.
Sultra, not one to stand around talking apparently, took off in a furious charge. Before he could join them though a portal tore open between them and a quartet of demons tumbled forth. Nudging his horse over to his comrades he spoke. “Well, I take it from our target being here the plan worked? I even managed to live, so bonus’s there. I think we should head off and aid our employer though.”
Nudging his horse forward Cananatra began to walk it slowly towards the horrors.
Cananatra will move forward at a pace that lets his comrades advance by him and at the last moment charge the horrors. Having not fought them before i’m sure he’ll regret it, but he’ll go and try and chop them down.
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Sat Nov 17, 2012 2:43 am ]|
Carathyle's breathing was heavy enough as it was, the breast plate that had crumpled in upon his chest cut his breathing off but a tiny bit, much to his displeasure. First the grasp of the Ogre, which resulted in the large dent in his breast plating, and in the Ogre's loss of its hand. Then the hit on his Pauldron, surely it would ache the next day. And to top it all off, the slap of the gigantic hand, launching him backwards, away from the ogre. All in all, Carathyle felt like he did a terrific job at distracting the Ogre.
He smiled for once, even though it was a smile infused with pain, and agony, as he still had trouble breathing. Try to topple that one..., old man. Fear is for a fool, brash is for those who know what they do, recklessness is the tool of a Maveric. Carathyle thought, quoting the ancient family motto.
How much he would love to recover in peace for a few moments, it seemed nobody was going to allow that, as the small band of mercenaries was teleported away from their respective positions, into the fray of the battle. The situation however had changed for the better, and for a small part for the worse. Near immediately, Carathyle knew that, in his current condition, with his armor standing on the verge of collapsing as it felt it could do any second now, he couldn't fight daemonic entities, even though on of the lessons of his family was "Even at the verge of defeat, the blade of a Maveric can turn the tide."
Not willing to give into his exhausted energy completely, Carathyle's mind already found a useful way to settle himself at a relatively safe position, even though the term 'safe' was only to indicate not in direct danger.
His head shifted toward Syjahel, who Carathyle addressed, "I'm out of this one. I'll stay behind, protect Naylia from any strays as long as I can. Ow, and you might need this considering you're going to fight Daemons." He held the obsidian sword in front of Syjahel, blade facing the ground. "I want it back though, whether you'll give it back, or I'll need to take it back from you."
Carathyle will offer Syjahel the temporarily use of his sword, given that he'll sit the main battle out due to his exhaustion and injuries and she'd have more use of it considering it's a magical weapon, and they're going to fight Daemons. Instead, he'll wield his dranach and stay around Naylia, as there is always the possibility of them coming to kill Naylia.
|Author:||Meteor [ Sat Nov 17, 2012 3:33 pm ]|
The ogre was dead, their most difficult adversary yet, but before anything else could happen, they were whisked away and dumped into the middle of chaos, literally. Dazed and confused at the sudden change of environment, Jacks picked himself up only to gladly see their long missed friend Cananatra at long last. The sight was quite a marvel on its own, a warrior on horse back, almost like a true knight of Sultra's. Not one to shirk from action evidently, Cananatra's decision was to follow the charge, Carathyle's growing conservative nature was beginning to confuse Jacks more and more, but it did make sense.
"Good to see you're still alive and functioning Cananatra, not quite the place for a reunion, but it'll have to do. Hctib, Elttil, stay with Carathyle and keep Naylia alive. I'll keep an eye on our captain in your stead Carathyle, and make off with your sword if I fail."
Checking his equipment he realised his trusty Repeater Crossbow was missing. It was going to be costly to replace, which made making sure their employer made it out alive so they got paid all the more important. Shrugging and keeping it to himself, he made sure his Handbow was loaded and his daggers and sword in place. The finale seemed at hand, he wanted to test his mettle against something not so normal, and was eager to engage the Horrors summoned and perhaps Tachar herself.
Instruct the other two Shades to stay behind with Carathyle and get ready to advance.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Tue Nov 20, 2012 7:53 pm ]|
With the fight with the ogre over - just barely - there was not even time to address the wounds of those hurt in battle. Tachar faced the ruin of her armies, but she did not miss a beat. Dedicating herself to her unholy patron in blood, she transformed into something befitting the foulness of the Ruinous Powers, mocking life even as they twisted it. More than this, she dragged the small group of mercenaries forward to witness it or perhaps - given her relentless desire to kill her sister - to get Naylia within her grasp at last, even if only for spite.
Syjahel took stock of the situation. Most of 'her' command were wounded, though it was good to see that Cananatra was still alive. She had just time to nod to the tall Lustrian veteran before her appraisal was cut short by the appearance of four of the gibbering, capering lesser daemons so beloved it seemed by the Sorceress. Instantly shifting to take up a defensive stance in front of Maylia, the warrior-woman tried to think of a way they could beat four of the creatures when they had so narrowly bested one. It, and its splitting, disgusting lesser forms. All in all this was not a good day, not a good one at all.
Carathyle shocked her by breaking the tense silence. Not so much that he spoke, but by what he said. "I'm out of this one. I'll stay behind, protect Naylia from any strays as long as I can. Ow, and you might need this considering you're going to fight Daemons." He held the obsidian sword in front of Syjahel, blade facing the ground. "I want it back though, whether you'll give it back, or I'll need to take it back from you."
Stunned, the normally imperious noblewoman's face was a mask of disbelief and dawning emotion. This was his heirloom, his prized connection to his family (though of course, she did not know just how much). She reached out and took the blade with a bow of respect.
"Thank you. I will guard the blade as I do my own honour and shall consider it lost should any harm come to the sword. Khaine willing, I will reap a fine harvest in souls to warm the stone."
She took the revered blade and set her stance to defend the wounded Druchii and Naylia, side by side with Jacks. With a grim smile to her neighbour, she braced to meet the oncoming charge.
"Come Master Shade, let's drive these abominations back to Hell!"
Nothing fancy here, defend Naylia and Carathyle, keep her shield up and working with Jacks, strive to kill as many horrors as possible aiming for what she knows as weak spots from her last encounter with the beasts: eyes, throat, mouth, underbellly.
OOC got there in the end, no virus beats a true daughter of Naggaroth! *ahem*
|Author:||Drainial [ Tue Nov 20, 2012 9:38 pm ]|
Once more the mercenaries found themselves thrown into the thick of the fighting and on the stage of destiny, or at least in the front row of the stalls. Glad as they were to find Cananatra alive and apparently thriving the transported mercs had gone through too much to let go of Naylia now, there first thought was for the defence of the little mistress. Jacks knew that they had to take the battle to the enemy but instructed the other two shades to hang back and protect the girl, so far they had been happy to be guided by him and they nodded in assent. As they raised their repeaters Jacks remembered that his now lay at the base of the tree, perhaps he would have the chance to recover it, he hoped so. In the meantime he was far from without weapons and with a moment to spare before battle commenced he loaded a fresh clip to his handbow and drew his sword. Carathyle surprised all present by announcing his intention to hang back with the shades and keep Naylia safe, he had gone toe to toe with an ogre and although he had done well the conflict had left him covered head to foot in bruises and several of his bones felt as though they were probably fractured. Knowing that he was not at his best and that these daemons were nigh impossible to destroy with mundane steel the elf handed his obsidian blade hilt first to Syjahel who took it with reverence and no small measure of shock that Maveric should give up, even for a short while, his prized possession.
As the captain took the blade she felt a biting pulse run up her arm, a dark and spiteful presence lurked within the blade, instinctively Syjahel knew that this spirit was somehow connected to the obsidian sword's unnatural potency though of course the nature of the ghost remained a mystery to her. As she brought the blade up into a fighting posture she felt the hilt pulse again, warmer and not quite so unpleasant, an acceptance perhaps of her hand on the hilt, if a grudging one.
Cananatra voiced the opinion that they ought to try and aid Sultra in his fight and although no one said as much it was clear that their first move was to destroy the lesser daemons before moving onto the greater. Urging his horse forward Cananatra sought to keep pace with the others on foot as they began to advance on the capering minions of change.
Beyond the horrors Sultra charged at the head of his warriors towards the stepped alter. Even up such a slope the impact of so many elven lances would surely be enough to wound the creature if not destroy her. Apparently she was in no mood to try this out and her box of magic tricks was not yet empty. Smashing her staff into the ground the effect was soon evident, the ranks of changing cavalry wavered as their horses went suddenly mad. Bucking and rearing as though the very ground beneath them were aflame the horses refused to be brought back under control. Two of them fled, charging out into the forest with their riders cursing and trying in vain to turn their mounts back to the fight. More bucked their riders from the saddle, one fell completely, pinning its rider's leg in the process. Of the rest most fell in a most undignified manner, deposited on their rears before their horses cantered off away from whatever Tachar had made them so afraid of. Three managed more graceful dismounts, leaping from the saddle to land on their feet, Sultra of course was one of these and in spite of this set back they charged to finally close with the fiend, the remaining four struggling back to their feet and pursuing as best they could.
Cananatra was not spared this plague, nor was the wildling price. His horse reared sending the inexperienced Cananatra tumbling backwards to land awkwardly. The prince was able to show off his horsemanship by rolling away without harm and coming back to his feet with his spear tip pointed squarely at the horrors. Said daemons were no longer still, having taken a moment to adjust to this new dimension they saw the mercenaries and cackled with obscene glee. Syjahel and Carathyle were prepared for what happened next, the others were not. Fire balls in all the colours of the rainbow cascaded down on the mercenaries. A gout of flame impacted squarely on Syjahel's shield, unprotected by the overloaded null stone Syjahel felt the heat but though the daemonic fire left her shield smoking it was not aflame, not yet at least. As fire struck all around Jacks was regretting having given his null stone to Carathyle, a single hit could well leave him horribly burned. He would have to be aware of his surroundings at all times and be ready to dodge at need.
The first to hit back were the two shades, Hcitb and Elittl, their repeaters showing the one of the horrors with bolts. The daemon snarled and baulked for a moment but as they expected the bolts did not kill or even seem to wound them. Syjahel knew they could not rely on bolts to win this day, these daemons were more dangerous at a distance and so she sought to close as quickly as she could. Jacks followed after her, spiting bolts from his handbow at the nearest horror. As she closed to within a spear length another bolt of flame sheathed her legs up to her chest, heat swelled but as it began to grow painful her master crafted armour was suddenly sheathed with silver runes and the heat subsided. Now within striking distance Syjahel slashed upward into a cluster of eyes, bursting them in a shower of goo and leaving a terrible rent through the horror which sent it reeling back.
Jacks had been right at Syjahel's heels but with the almost preternatural awareness and agility that was the hallmark of his fighting style Jacks dodged away from a spear of flame that would surely have meant crippling pain. It came from another horror a few feet away, the one the shades had fired on. Another jet of emerald flame said this one had taken a shine to him. Raising his handbow he sent a bolt into a gaping maw sending a shiver of what might have been pain through it but doing no more than that.
Cananatra missed most of this as he struggled back to his feet, the fall from the horse had been less than comfortable and as he once more became perpendicular the pain from that last blow to the leg shot through but as always the amulet provided the spur to go on. Fire fell to his right, distracted by this he was surprised by the next ball crashing into his head. This blinded him for a second but he felt no burning save for at the centre of his chest. For a moment he thought it must be the amulet again until he remembered the pair of null stones hanging there. One of the horrors was bounding towards him at a surprising pace, spewing fire from its many and multiplying jaws all the way.
Carathyle had an excellent view of all this back with Naylia as he was. He also had an excellent view of the fourth horror turning at least two thirds of its eyes on him or, more likely, Naylia. Taking his dranach in hand the tired warrior took up a defensive posture directly in front of Naylia, obscuring her small form almost completely. This was quickly shown to be a sensible precaution as a jet of flame caught him in the chest. As before the null stone kicked in sparing him more than disorientation and a little scorching where the null stone absorbed the magic. The daemon was coming closer though, perhaps to do in person what it seemingly could not do from afar.
|Author:||Cananatra [ Fri Nov 23, 2012 3:29 pm ]|
Digging his heels into his horses flanks he urged it forward at a reasonable pace to close with the abominations summoned to keep them away from Sultra and the real fight. Unfortunately the sorceress, now clearly a demon of sorts, had decided horses had no part in this show and drove them mad with some magic or other. Even the seemingly smart elven steed he rode was no match for the magic and nor was Cananatra any match for it rearing. He felt himself tipping and then the world spun as he flipped unceremoniously off the back of his horse. For a moment the world was dark before he realised he was lying face down on the ground and pulled himself upright.
As he pushed himself to his feet he felt a stabbing pain in his leg, no doubt from the mace blow which twisted his armour. As always though the pleasurable sensation from the amulet overrode the worst of the pain and he was able to stand with much less difficulty than would otherwise be the case. A flicker of light drew his eye and for an instant he saw some strange fire burning beside him before his view was filled by multi-coloured flames. For some reason the burning was in his chest though, and it took him a moment to realise it must be the null stone. As his vision cleared he could see the horror bounding towards him and not feeling like giving it more time to try and fry him, counter-charged.
Cananatra will counter charge the attacking horror. He’ll have his shield ahead of him in case jabberwocky hide helps at all and he’ll aim for cutting the horror into little pieces, starting with the parts that flame.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Sat Nov 24, 2012 9:01 pm ]|
Syjahel stepped forward into the melee as she had done so many times before. Wielding her borrowed sword with dexterity, it seemed that Khaine smiled upon them as she caught one of the beasts on the cluster of foul eyes that covered its misshapen head, Disgusting fluids sprayed over her armour but she did not flinch; there was too much to do to think of such niceties.
Erupting in flame the daemonic creature spat its hideous blast at her, sheathing her slender form in fire. The grim-faced noblewoman felt the heat and braced, but once again the silver-bound fragment of her old shield sent forth its magic. She did nt know how it had been so blessed, but she was not in a position to protest it. Readying the obsidian blade again she stuck out at the daemonic minion, mindful not to get separated from her companion in arms. Together, she and the Shade might be able to form some kind of defence, but apart they were too few to make an adequate bodyguard.
She wanted to turn and check on Naylia, but there was no time. All she could do was trust in her companions' skill at arms. Trust did not come easily to Syjahel, but in this she knew she could count on 'her' warband to fight as if Khaine himself were watching. She was more than a little convinced that the War God did so, casting his aegis over them, not for themselves but for the magnitude of the conflict that played out on the field ahead.
Same again, not much to add but keep the shield up, use the fancy sword as well as she can and kill horrors in the name of Khaine.
|Author:||Meteor [ Mon Nov 26, 2012 5:26 pm ]|
Jacks flicked his dagger in and out in his offhand as he wondered how to deal with his opponent. A ball of magical fire exploded where he was earlier, and watching the fire consume the area, Jacks immediately regretted giving his null stone away. Keeping a slow sidestepping pace to keep moving in case the Horror decided to spit another ball of magical fire at Jacks, he decided to charge it and see what damage he could do to creations of Chaos with mundane weapons. Afterall, if his weapons couldn't kill a Horror, he'd have no chance against that Daemonic Sorceress their employer was fighting right at this moment.
Watching for the right moment, Jacks tensed his body as he spotted the Horror prepare itself to launch another bolt of magical fire at Jacks.
"May the Dark Mother smile upon me" Jacks whispered to himself as he engaged.
Wait for the Horror to prepare to shoot another ball of fire at Jacks and charge it. Distract it with shots from his Handbow as he closes the distance before attempting to shove his Short Sword into its maw.
OOC: Yes Jacks was playing around with his dagger prior to engaging, but still uses his sword when he charges in for the deeper penetration (ha that's what you wish she'd say! )
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Mon Nov 26, 2012 6:29 pm ]|
Partially with regret, Carathyle's choice of staying behind to at least protect their main cargo, the initial role they were assigned, quickly became the best choice, since one of the horrors didn't seem to bother with Syjahel, Cananatra and Jacks, and turned toward Naylia, which stood safely behind the null talisman protected noble warrior. It seemed to think Carathyle weak by default, and as swift as it could turn, it hurled a spear of fire at Carathyle. The nobleman didn't budge or move, even though Druchii were naturally selfish, it was either Carathyle's pride or his Asur lessons that prevented his departure of his position, that, or he really wanted the coin for all the trouble they went through.
The spear clashed into Carathyle's breastplate with force, pushing Carathyle slightly back, but the tired nobleman didn't feel pain or anything other than the Talisman wrapped around his belt, tapping the leather with the heat with every move, as it absorbed the magic that was unleashed on Carathyle. "Better luck next time." Carathyle exclaimed, spinning the Dranach around. Mundane won't harm Daemons, but it will stop them from moving any closer. Carathyle was quickly wrapping his head around the concept of stalling the enemy, instead of downright killing them. The approach wasn't one very familiar to Druchii, but to Carathyle at the moment, ends justify the means.
Seeing the Horror shifting from ranged to melee, as it moved toward Naylia and Carathyle, he quickly looked around, "Shades, shoot at the eyes. They are bound to be sensitive. If it breaks through melee, I want at least one of you two on the run with Naylia, back into the forest. The other will have to hold ground until Syjahel comes to help." Carathyle's instructions were simple, and whether they'd like it or not, any recoiling effect on the Horror, Carathyle might get a better hit. Mundane can't kill it, but it can stop it.
Carathyle will counter-charge the Horror, using the Dranach as a Glaive due to the long and sharp blade, and as a spear, as he'd thrust it at the horror. If required, Carathyle will use the butt of the pole as well.
|Author:||Drainial [ Thu Nov 29, 2012 12:50 am ]|
Four Daemons, four mercenaries plus their shade guides to help them. Even odds if you only counted numbers but though mundane weapons could hurt these fiends killing them would take magic or simply awesome levels of violence. Cananatra was unaware of this and even if he had realised it would probobly not have changed his tactics. One of the horrors was making him the target of choice, this was not something he could allow. Raising his makeshift shield in front of his face, the only real patch of skin exposed to the blinding fire, he charged towards it. Capering about the horror met his charge with a fire ball spat from a giant maw, the ball engulfed the elf whose null stones immediately began to burn against his chest either side of his chaos amulet. The stones, helped no doubt by his thick armour, kept the arcane fire at bay and ignoring the screaming pain in his leg Cananatra thundered into the Tzeentchen daemon. The weight and momentum of the elf bowled the horror over, as far as anything so muteable can be said to be bowled over given its ability to sprout new legs at need. Almost before the fire's had died Cananatra thrust his long sword into the giant mouth. The tip of the sword thrust straight though the daemon, pinning it to the floor. Most creatures with a rod of razor sharp steel sticking through them will die, the horror did not. Instead the teeth, row upon row of rotating teeth, closed on his forearm and began grinding. Spasms of pain shot up Cananatra's arm as the steel of his vambrace strained to keep those fangs from fragile flesh. The creature had his measure.
Into this dire situation strode the wildling prince. As he had at least some knowledge of Cananatra it seemed to elf was electing to help him rather than one of the others, which was good for the warrior if not his companions. More importantly he bore a magical weapon which was something they would need. The monster was chewing its way through Cananatra's armour when the prince attacked, vaulting onto the horror's back and stabbing downward making it scream. Twisting in a way no mortal creature ever should the horror let go of Cananatra's hand and threw the prince off, shooting a stream of fire at him for good measure. The flame danced up the prince's leg and chest, where his armour protected him the magic faded but the slight warrior's right leg was charred and the elf let out a yelp of pain. To his credit he kept standing though and from his stance had no intention of giving up this fight. He looked the vengeful sort.
Syjahel was in a better position, with Carathyle's soul sword in hand she had a weapon capable of doing more than just hurt these damnable beasts. Her first attack had the horror reeling, now the warrior princess had to press forwards, knowing that she held the key to defeating the daemons. A slender claw morphed from the horror, clawing at her shield but her defensive fighting was more than a match for this manifestation of insanity. Slashing accross she severed the limb, hacking back to slice a cluster of eyes clean off the daemon. The soul sword pulsed in her hand, whispering of restless contentment, urging her to indulge in further acts of violence. Spurred on by this and by her own martial spirit Syjahel spotted an emerging mouth, something she knew to be a weak point, she struck. Thrusting deep into the daemon just as Cananatra had Syjahel's stroke had more luck, screaming on such a primal level it went beyond mere sound the horror burst, coating the mercenary captain with foul ichor. One down.
Jacks was not quite so confident of victory. As Syjahel and Cananatra waded in Jacks was not shy of the fight but knew that he was vulnerable. He was always vulnerable compared to the warriors though, it had never stopped him before. Having observed that the daemons could not keep up a perpetual flame the shade waited for its next attack knowing that then he would have a few moments to act. It was risky for a single hit could be excruciating and possibly fatal. None the less with his heart hammering in his chest Jacks concentrated on his training and his instincts. A ball of violet fire spurted at his head, he could feel the heat of the flames warming his back as he dived beneath it, coming to his feet a few yards away from the horror. With his handbow in one hand and his sword in another Jacks burst a couple of eyes with well placed shots on the way in. Slashing left Jacks sliced a chunk of daemon flesh away from the main body. Again and again he slashed, causing damage but gaining to purchase. Responding to this barrage of quick attacks the horror swelled up, battering into the slight elf with all its weight and knocking him back a step. A blast of fire roared past jacks as he dodged to the side just in time, the blaze igniting the tip of his cloak. Even as he gauged a bloody furrow in the daemon's form once again Jacks knew that in order to win this fight he would need a cunning plan, or some help.
Carathyle might have come to the shade's aid but he had problems of his own. The incoming horror continued to spout bolts as Hectib and Elittl fired away, they did seem to hurt the creature but showed no sign of stopping it. That would be up to Carathyle, on the way in the horror let loose another burst of fire, engulfing the elf. He stood his ground however and trusted to the nullstone to do its work. Sure enough the fire did him no harm and it was with a braced if smouldering spear that Carathyle met the daemon. Perhaps expecting a gibbering mess the horror plainly did not expect a dranach blade, feet apart Carathyle lanced through it, pinning it in place on the end of his long spear. Though it was impaled the spear was not magic and so could only hurt the creature, not kill it. It was not a total surprise then when instead of trying to back away the horror instead grew two arms and began thrusting itself further onto the spear, trapping the weapon as it came ever closer to its target. There was little Carathyle could do and so he was astonished when he felt a tremor run up his leg, through his body and down his arm. A second after the tremor the elegant dranach blade began to glow, softly at first but then with greater radiance. As it grew in brightness the daemon began to squirm, smoking and squealing as magic began to eat into it from within. After what seemed like an hour but could not have been more than twenty or thirty seconds the horror burst apart, banished back to whatever plain of madness spawned it. Surprised and confused Carathyle looked down to see Naylia's hand on his leg, right on the place the tremor started.
The mercenaries were preoccupied by their own fight but an even greater battle was happening on the alter. Sultra, along with his trusted retainers, had finally closed with the daemon Tachar, some of the elves were still stuck with their horses but three joined their lord in attacking the princess of chaos. Four against one and one a lord of the Druchii, put in those terms it ought to have been a walkover but Tachar was not an elf anymore. In each of her four arms the newly crowned daemon bore a different weapon, in one her elegant staff, in another the sacrificial dagger. yet another bore a sword of solid flame and the finnal limb a blade forged of ice. All four of these weapons were almost a blur as she fended off four skilled and tenacious opponents. Within seconds on of the retainers fell, his head sliced in half by the ice sword. This forced to others to fight, if anything, even harder and she was not immune. The mundane weapons made little enough impact but Sultra's twin blades were not without the charms one expected of a highborn. Amongst many wounds that healed almost as soon as they were struck Tachar bore a long stripe down her left thigh and another across her cheek. Another retainer was wounded however and even as one of the latecomers replaced the dead man it was clear that Sultra needed help even more than they did.
Behind them the battle was coming to a close but a tight knot of the enemy elite was holed up. They had managed to fight their way to the edge of the forest and with their backs to two giant trees they were making a valiant last stand. Valiant enough at any rate to keep the bulk of Sultra's forces occupied for now.
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Thu Nov 29, 2012 1:28 am ]|
The horror seemed to take little damage from the bolts the shades sent its way, but what little did Carathyle expect from mundane weapons, his own experience told him otherwise. Still, as a mercenary who was valiant to the end in the name of his employer, Carathyle couldn't stand idly by as a Daemon came to take the lives of him, the shades and their princess he swore to his comrades that he'd protect. Wrapping his arm slightly around the spear, jamming it between his arm and his shoulder. It was smarter than it seemed, but a lesson about fighting a Druchii noble using defensive enchanted gear seemed to be hard to learn, as another spear of fire was sent in Carathyle's direction.
Spinning the Dranach above his head, Carathyle positioned it like the military had taught its warriors, but he did not use a shield. With two hands around the pole, Carathyle waited for the fire to collide against him. The null-talisman took five hits of fire bolts the last encounter with magic, and this was only two, his confidence showed in a grin. The fire engulfed the nobleman, but little was there to affect him. The talisman burned brightly against his leg, as it absorbed the damage that was meant for Carathyle. The moment the fire cleared and the smoke started to clear, Carathyle jolted forward with the Dranach, pinning the horror throught its body on the long blade of the Druchii weapon. 'Mundane is useless against magic, but sure as hell this will slow it down or at least hurt it a lot!' Carathyle thought, before seeing the Daemon grow two additional arms, and grasped the spear with it, pulling itself further onto the spear. 'You don't let down, do you?' Carathyle thought, before a tremor span through his leg, through his torso and eventually into the Dranach. As the monstrosity grew ever closer to him, the Dranach grew ever brighter, emitting a light that can only be explained as one thing, 'Magic?!' Carathyle thought. The horror started to squirm, smoke and showed signs of burns spreading from it's steel impalement. It's advancement down the pole halted immediately, giving Carathyle the chance of looking at the location where the tremor came from.
To his surprise, it was the very person he was protecting that was helping him, with her hand pressed against Carathyle's leg, Naylia somehow fed magic through Carathyle to the Dranach, and before long the horror exploded, banished to the plains of Chaos, hopefully never to be seen again.
Relaxing his stance now, Carathyle turned toward Naylia, bowing slightly to the princess as a form of gratitude. "Now, if you'll excuse me milady, I have some horrors to destroy." Carathyle spoke kindly to Naylia, turning on his heel before he started to jog toward the battle little ahead. Tossing the Dranach slightly up, catching it in a way that could easily predict that he did not care for the difference between spears, Carathyle saw that Jacks seemed to be in most trouble. Counting his momentum along with the arc, Carathyle tossed the Dranach at the Horror, before looking at Syjahel, who seemed disengaged for the moment. "Syjahel!" Carathyle shouted, still running for the shade in trouble, raising his hand and spreading it, ready to catch the sword of his property if needed.
Request his sword back from Syjahel, hoping she wouldn't be arrogant and toss it toward him, to catch it with his hand before charging the Horror directly, hoping the Dranach took its attention off of Jacks and onto Carathyle, seeing the nobleman wore more armor, and still had the null talisman active.
OOC: Wait... Naylia that helped Carathyle? Now THAT is unexpected XD Ow wait, Druchii logic; I will gain from it so I should help.
|Author:||Cananatra [ Sat Dec 01, 2012 4:54 pm ]|
Pulling his shield into place to stop some of the fire, hopefully, Cananatra moved purposely towards the horror. As he tried to close the horror spat yet another ball of flame which cascaded harmlessly over him as the null talismans absorbed and deflected the lethal energies. As he pounded forward though, sharp bursts of pain where emanating from his leg, clearly not in good condition from its meeting with the chaos knights mace. Nevertheless Cananatra was unslowed. Slamming into it was like charging something consisting mainly of jelly but he managed to put it on the back foot long enough to jam his sword into its mouth. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to do much, other than bring his arm in range of its teeth and it quickly began to enthusiastically chew on his amrour. For now the armour was holding.
Just as he was starting to get worried the elven prince leap onto its back and drove his magical spear into it. Unlike the sword this seemed to do a fair bit of damage, considering the horror screamed. Though lightly toasted the prince managed to survive the return attack. Realising it would be somewhat pointless to continue trying to kill off the demon with a mundane weapon Cananatra moved to put himself between the prince and the horror. He’d use himself to block any flames shooting out at the two of them and advance until close enough for the prince to strike past him with his enchanted spear. Hopefully the prince would get the idea.
Well, as above really. Move to prince, beckon him to follow behind and advance on the horror as a team.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Mon Dec 03, 2012 3:07 pm ]|
With a yell of victory Syjahel split the horror asunder and it died in spectacular fashion. With a bone-chilling screech of its own it exploded. But the warrior-woman was undaunted, she lived for moments such as these and vengeance upon those who wronged the Druchii. Despite the disgusting shower of fluids she was elated, and the soul-sword agreed. Pulsing in her gloved hand, whispering sweet malevolent words of violence and slaughter it urged her to fight on.
Just as she was gathering herself for a new assault - looking around quickly, she could see that Cananatra and some slight, red-haired Elf in clothes they might have worn when the world was young had one of the horrors pinned down. Jacks however was facing one in a lone fight, and she knew that however quick the Shade was on his feet these beasts needed magic to kill. Carathyle too had the same idea, and the tall Druchii was sprinting towards the beleagured Autarii.
Of course, he wanted his sword back. And Syjahel, a highborn woman to whom honour was everything, had every intention of returning it to him. He raised his hand for her to throw it, and though she balked at treating such a fine weapon this way, she was about to toss it across the ever-shrinking gap between them as she turned and ran for Jacks' combat.
The sword itself however was a tricky thing, steeped in blood as she was but ever-thirsting, or so it seemed as it urged her to wade deep in gore, slaughtering until she resembled one of Khaine's bloody Brides. In her innermost heart, had she not always wished to serve the Bloody-Handed God, body and soul? Why not keep the blade, wield it, carve them both a path of crimson ruin and fearsome renown? You and I. the sword whispered, you and I could do great things.
Instead of throwing the sword she ran up to Carathyle and handed it to him, passing it firmly into his waiting hand.
"Your sword," she said, emphasising the first word slightly. "My thanks. A fine blade, one we must speak of later."
"Jacks, fall back to see to Naylia. I have the armour and Carathyle has the means to kill it."
Left with no magical sword of her own, she took up a defensive position to shield Carathyle and make best use of herself as a distraction while he took the thing on. Gesturing to Jacks to return to keep an eye on their ward, for whom she hoped a bodyguard of three Shades would be enough, she prepared to engage the horror and keep its attention on her so that Carathyle could find an opening to kill it.
Distract the beastie, hoping Jacks will get back to looking out for Naylia with the other two - after all that is the primary goal; horrors are just the distraction. A gibbering, mutating distraction. Try much as Cananatra is doing to make the horror concentrate on her while Carathyle kills it.
OOC: Just riffing on the siren call of the sword, not too much out of place I hope. I'm thinking a little of Stormbringer
|Author:||Meteor [ Tue Dec 04, 2012 3:29 am ]|
"Damn thing." Jacks gritted his teeth when the Horror continued to lash about with as much energy as before it was cut. Those scores would definitely be felt by a Manticore, albeit an enraged one, but nonetheless, the Horror seemed unfazed by it all. Jacks wasn't disheartened, but it certainly made his job here much more difficult, suddenly fighting a Daemon Prince seemed out of this world to Jacks, especially when he had no knowledge on how to slay Daemons.
It was why he wanted to fight a Horror however, to see how a new foe can be killed. But it seemed like the Dark Mother had other plans when his captain and Carathyle both stepped in. Jacks disapproved of the interference, but he didn't have time to figure it out now, Naylia needed to be protected, and with a curt nod, Jacks retreated to join the other two Shades. Without the right protection, he was very vulnerable anyway, magical fire wasn't something he knew how to deal with if hit.
"Guess I'll have to stick with killing things that bleed" he joked to himself.
Retreat as requested and take over Carathyle's position in guarding Naylia with the other two Shades.
|Author:||Drainial [ Wed Dec 05, 2012 3:09 pm ]|
Having dealt with their opponents' Carathyle and Syjahel were the first to move. Carathyle quickly decided that hanging back was not for him and without an immediate threat to Naylia and considering that she still had two shades as body guards he made to enter the fray once again. Stepping forward the whirled his spear round into a throwing position. As he lost contact with Naylia the little elf's magic ebbed and with it gone the Dranach blade faded back to its usual metallic lustre. Taking care not to hit Jacks the elf hurled it, the heavy bladed spear was far from a perfect javelin but the rang was not long and the daemon bucked at the sudden intrusion, half a foot of druchii steel sticking out of its side. As with all of Jacks' attacks however the spear did no more than delay and distract, it did not kill nor mortally wound. For that they needed magic but Carathyle had that one covered. Raising his voice above the clamour of battle he called for his sword to be returned to him.
This was something that Syjahel was reluctant to give. With the soul sword in her hand she was more powerful than she had ever been before; it was difficult for any Druchii give up power. Moreover the soul of Corelth spoke to her of possession and glory, though it was far from clear just who he considered the owner and which the tool. To steal from a comrade though was not the way of honour and besides the soul of the father was bound to the fate of the son, for now at least. Never the less Syjahel did not feel right hurling such a thing into the air as a child might a kite. Instead she ran towards Carathyle to put it in his hand directly.
More respectful this may have been and doubtless safer than throwing a sword at your friend even if the intention is not to cause harm. Still it was slower and this left Jacks to defend himself a little longer. Leaping over a gout of flame jacks plunged his sword into a bulging sack, a tell tale sign of new limbs beginning to grow. The blade cut deeper than he had been expecting, the flesh softer than when it was fully formed. Pulling hard upward Jacks sought to free the blade and do as much damage as possible. It was with great surprise that he saw as he pulled the blade free a cavernous split down the centre of the horror. It was another shock when instead of rejoin as had the other wounds he had inflicted on the thing the halves fell to the side. Syjahel and Carathyle knew what would happen next however and sure enough the halves split and reformed, within moments two smaller daemons had taken the place of the single larger horror. This was not something Jacks had been prepared for and even as his fellow mercenaries hurried to his aid he was trying to withdraw. This was not easy however for now that there were two daemons his agility was sorely tested. As he tried to back away a jet of flame scored a hideous weal across his thigh causing him to fall. Even as he dropped the shade was rolling, coming back into a fighting crouch but the wound was painful in the extreme.
Jacks stumbled back to his feet just in time to see the nearest horror gather itself up for another bolt of arcane fire; he knew in his heart that he would never be able to evade it in his current state, not from where he was. It was a blessed relief then when Carathyle interposed himself between the two of them. The fire ball burst over the young noble and for a moment Jacks envied him all that armour and the null stone he had given up. Armour like that did slow you down; it was a hindrance in the woods and a nightmare for anyone trying to be circumspect. Even so half an inch of good steel between you and the enemy did have its points.
Syjahel had drawn her own blade, a beautiful sword if lacking ornament and clearly the work of a smith who knew his business well but it lacked the visceral power of Carathyle's obsidian sword. It was what she had though and would have to do. Squaring off against one of the split horrors she was blinded by a sheet of pink flame. Though the heat did not touch her within this momentary distraction the horror leapt at her face first. Four limbs wrapped around her chest and pinned her sword arm against her side. Rearing in front of her head a bulbous outgrowth hollowed out and sprouted row after row of terrible teeth. Small the daemon might have been but not without its dangers.
Cananatra and the Prince were preoccupied by their own unnatural terror. The Horror was clearly hurt by the magic in the prince's spear but it had not been banished, perhaps the magic of this degenerate tribe was not as strong as that of true Druchii. Regardless it was a better weapon for the job than Cananatra had and it was in the hands of a very vulnerable elf. As the horror gathered itself for another flaming projectile the warrior ran forward as swiftly as his injured leg would allow. Just in time he managed to place himself between the daemon and the woodland warrior. Flames of molten bronze splashed over his flank and sword arm but once again the null stone kicked in. This time something was different though, the stone burned hard on his chest blistering the skin. Even as the flames began to recede it stopped burning and the second one next to it seemed to take over the task. He could only assume that the first of his protective stones had burned out.
He still had another though and in that knowledge he turned on the horror once more. He made no move to attack the daemon directly knowing that his weapon would not kill the fiend. Instead he hoped the prince would get the idea of using him as cover for his spear. Very likely the idea of phalanx warfare had not made it to the petrified forest but it was a simple one. Given that their communication skills were spotty at best he thought it not worth the trouble to explain what he wanted. The prince certainly seemed eager to re-engage. Moving forward with great speed, if favouring his unwounded leg, he stepped up behind Cananatra and thrust at the horror, bursting and eye and forcing it to recoil. The daemon was not out of tricks however. It's malleable form wriggled and writhed until five tentacles were studded around a giant maw. Into this mouth the prince stabbed again, pinning a huge fleshy tongue to the ground. This did not deter the daemon from employing its new appanage's however. Two tentacles lashed around his legs, two more sought the warrior's arms. Lashing out with his sword Cananatra severed the tentacle seeking to loop round his sword arm but even with one arm free he could not prevent himself from being unceremoniously upturned by the fantastic strength in the other three limbs. Slammed down on his back Cananatra looked up into a terrible set of revolving jaws and knew he would have to act fast.
Up on the alter things were going no better. Sultra still stood and his retainers still fought but though four still fought against the terrible daemon princess they were the last four retainers still alive. A pile of elven corpses broken by sword, staff or magic littered the ground and although Sultra's ensorcelled swords had left their mark on her Tachar showed no sign of falling.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Sun Dec 09, 2012 9:40 pm ]|
Interposing the armoured members of the small warband was a sound plan, and not a moment too soon for Jacks who took a harsh wound to the thigh. While his Captain was not happy to see this, she soon had other problems to take her mind off the aggressive defence of her colleague and concentrate all her attention in one spot.
Having seen the trick the horror played before, at the back of her mind Syjahel had been dreading that all of the little blue bastards would split. She hadn't been sorry to see some of the others die without doing do. Suspected or not though, when the daemon did perform its act of unholy fission she was not expecting a pink horror to the face.
Cursing, she shook her head wildly and rammed her shield upwards from underneath the horror as if she could shear it - or part of it - off like carving a slice from a loaf. At the same time she clenched her jaw and headbutted it as squarely in the face as she could manage. After all, what use a good steel Druchii helm's sharp and fancy decoration if one never made use of it offensively? At the very least a broken nose ought to smart for the creature, for as long as it had a nose, at any rate.
Get that thing off her face. Headbutt, shield swipe, swap sword for a dagger and stick it, if necessary pry it lose with her gloved hands one rib at a time. OFF.
OOC: Pink horror to the face, nothing more she can do until that is resolved so a very short post here.
|Author:||Cananatra [ Sun Dec 09, 2012 10:10 pm ]|
Realising that he prince was in no state to try and take another hit from the horror Cananatra ran forwards. Each step sent a sharp pain up his leg, once again having the unusual effect of flaring simultaneously with pleasure. Just as he skidded to a stop between the prince and the demon the horror managed to get off another bolt of flame. As this one struck though it felt as those one of the null stones he carried had failed. Luckily just as the flames ended, and he did have another one after all. And here I hoped the second would kick in before the first died.
Slowly he began to advance on the horror. There really was little point in calling to the prince, their ability to communicate was very limited so Cananatra would just have to rely on him to follow. And follow he did, lancing his spear straight into the horror as they closed, not once but twice. Unfortunately though, the horror then decided to mix things up and grew more tentacles. Cananatra managed to cut one to ribbons as it swept at him but another three got hold and before he could cut them free tossed him onto the ground. Ok, this is not a good place to be in. Sweeping his sword he tried to cut the remaining tentacles to enable him to roll free.
Cananatra will sweep his sword anticlockwise around in front (or i suppose technically above at this point) of him and try and slice all the other tentacles off him. He’ll try to roll away if possible and hope the prince finished it off with his magic spear before the horror can finish its work.
OOC: The horrors are feeling huggy this turn. One is even trying to kiss Syjahel
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Sun Dec 09, 2012 10:12 pm ]|
The second his fingers touched the hilt, Carathyle felt his mind entwining with the blade. The warm glow it caused in his hand was all but the pure acceptance of Carathyle's dominance over the soul of his father.
With the safe hand-over of his sword, and knowing the null talisman at his flank should still be working, Carathyle hurried to at least take the heat off of Jacks. The wound on his leg was something he wasn't all too happy about, knowing how painful magic is by first hand experience, Carathyle quickly decided that this combat wouldn't be the last of his shade companion if it was up to him. As the split daemon unleashed another breath attack on the shade, Carathyle quickly stepped in the way, crossing the gauntlets in front of his face and took the brunt of the flames on them. The null talisman flared up at his side, the red glow of the stone, and the flames that quickly dissolved around Carathyle, were proof of the magic item's effect.
His armor might be there to aid him, Carathyle was not one to rely on defense alone. Relaxing his stance, he gazed at the abomination that stood only a few meters in front of him. Taking the longsword carefully in his right hand, Carathyle readied himself. "Jacks. Return to Naylia as soon as possible, we'll deal with these creeps." Carathyle exclaimed, his head calm as it was now that he had the only magic weapon in their little group back.
The minor hesitation within the transfer between Carathyle and Syjahel did disturb Carathyle a bit. 'Were you trying to seduce her? Even though we're both Druchii, have a bit more honor in you, will you? Father? Otherwise, I might have to cut you off of blood for the upcoming months.' Carathyle thought, knowing that the soul that was captured in the skull at the back of the sword could read his mind, or at least entwine with it.
Deciding the time was right, Carathyle stepped forward, swinging the sword at the horror that opposed him.
Rules of engagement are simply; Cut it in half! Not dead? Cut in in half again! Dead? Assist Syjahel with her problem.
OOC: If this is the same situation as back then... only one has to die to have both disappear.
|Author:||Meteor [ Mon Dec 10, 2012 5:11 am ]|
Surprises were the worst kind of counters in a battle, and with the Horrors splitting, it nearly costed Jacks his life. With the aid of Carathyle, much to Jacks' distaste of being saved rather than the one saving, he could at least continue his lifelong hunt. Nodding in appreciation, more for being able to continue his personal rather than being saved, Jacks fell back, trying to mask the burning pain in his thigh from being hit.
"And that was only at half strength too..." it seemed like Jacks was a bit over his head in fighting Daemons. But at least he now knows how troublesome Daemons are.
As he retreated, he scanned his surroundings both to check on the battle and for immediate danger for his companions as well as Naylia. Upon noticing Syjahel being in a bind, Jacks was hesitant in ignoring the problem, his chivalry flaring up again like always. But he couldn't neglect Naylia too, whilst he trusted Hctib and Elttil to guard her well, he still wanted one of them there at all times.
"Hctib! Go assist our captain, I rather be safe than sorry."
Get Hctib to go help Syjahel whilst he takes over guarding Naylia. Reload Handbow and stay alert, fight off stray enemies that tries to touch her as best as he can with his injury.
OOC: I didn't want to be left out of the OOC!
|Author:||Drainial [ Tue Dec 11, 2012 10:00 pm ]|
The storm of battle often threw up surprises and the successful warrior had to be on their guard at all times; never the less it was a horrible surprise for Syjahel to feel the supple, burning tentacles wrapped around her head. The immediate reaction was panic, with her sword arm pinned he had no way to kill the creature even if mundane arms would suffice for these lesser horrors. She didn't have much time to think either for the daemon was not content to merely pin her in place. Grinding, circling rows of teeth fastened round her helmet, the armour keeping her flesh from being stripped away. The terrible screech of tearing metal was proof however that this protection could not last forever. Not that the princess was content to wait for rescue, this was Naggaroth after all. Wrenching her head back and forth she saught to throw it away, with her free arm she battered at the horror. This seemed to be of little avail though, the jaws were shaken free only for them to close again on her pauldron. She could not break free.
Cananatra was in much the same position pinned down as he was by the much larger full sized Tzeentchen flamer. The weight alone was a crushing pressure he could well have done without and his injured knee was screaming. Unlike the good captain however he had managed to keep his sword arm free. Pushing aside the spectre of terrible teeth gnawing at his armour. It was a good thing that so many of the mercenaries favoured thick armour, in this battle the skimpily clad witchelves and sorceresses for which Naggaroth was rightly famed may well have perished already. Cananatra was hardly in the ideal position to strike but hacking left he sank his blade into a thick rubbery limb cutting it nearly in half. Another swing loped the tentacle apart entirely. His null stone flared again as the horror directed a jet of fire into the chewed mange of metal that was the result of its teeth just below his gorget. The magical protection was still holding, for the moment at least.
His best hope he knew was for the forest prince to step in once again and the feral elf did not disappoint. Regardless of the wounds he had already sustained the elf was spritely enough. Taking full advantage of the distraction Cananatra was unwillingly causing he drove his spear deep into what could currently be called the horror's back. As usual the magical weapon had a much greater effect on the daemon than mundane steel sending a spasm through its frame. Not one to sneer at opportunity Cananatra struggled free of another tentacle and sliced through yet another leaving one leg ensnared. The prince struck again and again, spearing daemonic flesh relentlessly. Now in a position to help as he could Cananatra slashed and thrust with his own weapon until with a primordial scream the daemon vanished back into the aethyr in an eruption of ichor.
Carathyle was in a somewhat better position than his peers being both properly armed to destroy these fiends and not entangled with one already. The little blue daemon in front of him let loose a burst of flame which slammed into his armour, washing over it and setting his null stone ablaze with energy. This having become a commonplace thing it didn't stop the elf from slashing down at the half sized terror. The blaze did serve to blind him momentarily though and his blade found only dirt. Finding his prey again he slashed wide but the malleable creature slid side ways and he caught only a small slice of daemonic flesh. Turning the horror bulged large with fangs and claws, hissing like some hideous cat and sprang at him.
Jacks had less martial ambitions just at that moment. Staggering a few steps under the pain of his new injury he half limped half ran back to where Naylia watched the fighting with an air of detached concern. Her gaze was fixed not on the mercenaries but on the battle up above, on the alter. There Sultra continued his epic duel come family spat. A veritable pile of corpses were now scattered there, three retainers still stood by his side. Even as Jacks looked however briefly one was launched into the air on the end of the daemon's long white staff leaving his sword lodged in her stomach. The elegant staff splintered on impact and she tossed it aside. Another of her arms hung useless, its flame wreathed sword extinguished, even so two arms remained armed and ready, even after so much.
Jacks was more concerned with his own chosen commander though and ordered Hctib to go to Syjahel's aid. The shade just shook his head, his job was to protect Naylia, they had no allegiance to the group or to him. Sultra paid their wages after all. Jacks was just turning round to see what could be done when Carathyle's enchanted sword finally found its target and dealt a meaningful bow. Sliced near in two the horror fell to the floor mewing piteously. Pity was never a big emotional force for Carathyle though and he hacked down again and again until the daemon dissipated in a flood of horrid goo. This came as a great relief to Syjahel, the horror's twin died moments later in sympathy bathing her face in a most unpleasant fashion. Unpleasant as it was it was preferable to having a daemon chewing on your helmet. Now that the lesser daemons were dead they could turn their attention to the real threat.
Right that's the horrors dealt with, just the small matter of a daemon prince to go -Drainial
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Tue Dec 11, 2012 11:50 pm ]|
'Step one, Slash it once. Step two, Slash one half again. Is it in three pieces? Move on.' Carathyle chanted through his head, as he kept the obsidian made sword in his right hand. His muscles were tensed, surely they were to be sore when he had a good night's rest. But it had to wait until his job was done. Facing down a Daemon wasn't something casual, it was something Black Guards were meant for, and those were only assigned to Malekith, the great Lord of all Druchii. Carathyle, no Black Guard of himself, wasn't someone to easily fall to a daemonic presence, he much more despised them for their existance and knowing his blood-lust, he would feel more than obliged to send them back to the realm they came from.
As the Horror spat his foul magic against Carathyle, the nobleman wasn't one to halt the attack when it didn't effect him, his sword coming down from atop was only proof of that. But the minion used its own attack to evade the attack of Carathyle, who was mere blinded for a few seconds. The daemon quickly moved away from Carathyle's sword, only to have it come at it again with a wide horizontal swing. The small gash that the magically enchanted sword created in the flesh of the Daemon made it hiss and out of all feral things it could do, it choose to remain in the extremely dangerous zone surrounding the swordsman and jumped at him.
Carathyle, not one to keep to the orthodox manners of fighting which made him both a formidable foe and a liability, released the longsword only a second from his grip, as he turned toward the Daemon that jumped him. Time seemed to slow down for Carathyle, but it all happened in a manner of seconds. Catching the sword in his left hand while he turned, Carathyle swung it in reverse hold at the attacking daemon, while stepping away from its direct course. The down cut he made bit the Daemon in the back. With the pulse of his father's soul running through his arm, Carathyle quickly rendered the magical ward that normally saved the Daemon from any harm useless, as the blade bit into the flesh and soon ripped through it. The Daemon cried it out and dropped to the floor. Having his body nearly split in two, it mewed in agony, something Carathyle didn't bother with. Stepping toward the damned abomination, while knowing that the captain they all followed into this Abyss and hopefully soon out of it, Carathyle took the sword in a regular hold again, in his right hand. The mewing Daemon seemed to be in need of the Mercy of the Druchii, what little there is. Quickly bringing down the longsword at the head, Carathyle waited for the body to melt away, and melt it did. Within seconds of the "killing" blow, the body of the Daemonic foe was reduced to a smelling goo.
Turning toward Syjahel and walking casually toward her, hoping that his gut instinct proved itself right, Carathyle kept the longsword at his side nonetheless. Before he could reach the female warrior though, Carathyle saw that his previous encounter with the horrors proved a valuable resource of information on the creatures, as this one as well turned into goo. A minor flashback ran through Carathyle's mind. "Just like in the clearing where Naylia was." he exclaimed, tossing the longsword from his right hand to his left hand as the gap between the captain and the nobleman closed. "You still owe me that drink, so don't you dare die on me this close to the end." The fact that the two had made the drinking appointment was for Carathyle enough reason to annoy Syjahel with it, as he stretched his hand toward the warrior princess that was still lying on the floor, covered in goo.
"We still need a Daemon to finish and secure our payment. What do you say? Tell Cananatra and Jacks to stick around Naylia, while we take the fun for ourselves and slaughter a Daemon Prince? " Carathyle offered. The obvious reason was that both of them were quite familiar with fighting Daemons, and since one of them had the means to kill it, while the other had the means to defend against it, it would make a good plan if those two worked together.
Help Syjahel up to her feet, offer said above, and go along with her plan anyway. If the two of them go against the Daemon Prince with Sultra, cripple the legs... otherwise the arms if it is going to pose a problem.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Wed Dec 12, 2012 1:34 am ]|
The strange daemonic horror just wouldn't let go. No matter how she spat, cursed, thumped and tried to choke the unholy life from the creature, it just wouldn't die. A grave insult to the highborn's way of thinking (not to say a grave breach of hithuan), not dying on cue, and it did nothing to help her mood. Just as she was scrabbling for her dagger, the evil little minion exploded in a shower of disgusting fluids, and the spitting fury of the noblewoman was a sight to see.
Into all this strode an unwitting or at least admirably focussed Carathyle. Having fixed her little problem by proxy, the unorthodox noble was offering her a hand to rise - which. covered in the slippery post-daemon residue, she was not too proud to take - and readying himself for a further fight. One had to respect his attitude, or else question his sanity, but the resulting bravery looked the same, drawing a small, grim smile from the lady.
"Just like in the clearing where Naylia was." the tall Druchii mused, looking down at her as she got to her feet with his aid. "You still owe me that drink, so don't you dare die on me this close to the end."
"We still need a Daemon to finish and secure our payment. What do you say? Tell Cananatra and Jacks to stick around Naylia, while we take the fun for ourselves and slaughter a Daemon Prince?"
"You may be certain I have not forgotten," she inclined her head slightly, pondering as she checked her weapons, armour and scratched and dented helmet for battle-worthiness, "you know that the Druchii never forget nor forgive." There was a slight smile on her lips as she spoke, showing that she understood the jest. "Does that mean that until I share that drink with you, you will not allow me to die? If so you may find yourself a hard-pressed bodyguard indeed ..."
Such post-adrenaline, possibly even slightly flirtatious banter aside, there was the matter of the fight unfolding scant yards away with a far more terrible foe. Syjahel had faced many dangers, but it gave her a momentary pause as she glanced across at the Tzeentchian champion. She expected to feel fear, even terror, and braced herself to fight off these unworthy emotions, but to her surprise deep within her there was a strange, growing sensation of a kind of historical inevitability. She was a highborn lady of House Vasht. Sworn the uphold the Witch King's rule, to fight Chaos in all its foul manifestations. Though she could feel the sensation of being afraid on the edge of consciousness, it was drowned in a rising tide of memories, some clearly not her own. A Druchii noble led a life of fantastic privilege, able to act almost wiithout sanction, feted and lavished with expensive pleasures and raised to rule. The counterpoint to all this was that in time of war, they were expected to rise to even the most dangerous of foes. Syjahel was no more able to neglect her duty as a highborn than to stop the sun.
Uppermost in her mind was a recollection of her brother, Tanathrys, standing tall before the mast of the sleek, black-hulled Corsair ship he commanded, the head of his decapitated foe in one hand. The lifeless eyes of a Chaos Sorcerer stared unblinkingly as he spoke, fixing the moment in her mind. Laughing, he threw the head to his crew and one caught it on the point of a dranach to a cheer from the rest.
"Remember this, little sister. Everything that lives can die, and we Druchii know more ways to kill than any other race."
Taking a tighter grip on her sword, her hand wandering to her shield pendant unconsciously for a moment as she spoke, she nodded to Carathyle in a businesslike fashion.
"Aye. let's join our employer, it would be most impolite of him to default through some minor misfortune like that thrice-damned bird."
Taking a brief glance over her diminishing warband she nodded gravely to the wounded stranger Prince, knowing nothing of him save that he had helped them. Tossing some of the few remaining healing balms to Jacks, who would know what to do if he needed them, Syjahel bowed fractionally to Naylia and turned smartly on her heel to join Carathyle. She felt that there was no time for introductions or discussion.
"Jacks, Cananatra, stay with Naylia if you will. Milady, we go to aid your father. Keep safe."
Check if anyone needs help with injuries and offer some of the balm if so - that includes the wildling Prince because he looks like Cananatra's ally to her - and then on to battle. There's no time to waste. Once there attack the daemon on whatever blind side it has, seeking to take it from another angle so that it fights on two fronts, aiming to disable it if possible by cutting it behind the knees, wings or even across the back of its neck or arms. Even if it takes magic to kill, it should still smart like a B-.
|Author:||Cananatra [ Wed Dec 12, 2012 5:01 pm ]|
The ground slamming into his back, or rather his back slamming into the ground, knocked the breath out of him for a moment. The situation he was in though quickly reasserted itself and he gasped in a breath as the horror leaned in towards him to finish the job. The creature, which seemed to be made out of nothing so much as jelly nevertheless had a significant weight to it which swiftly became apparent as it came down on his leg. The buckled armoured plate ground into the leg it was meant to protect. Already in poor shape from the encounter with the chaos warrior the pain was severe, though once again mitigated somewhat by his amulet. Knowing that the only way to survive was to slow down the demon until the prince could make good with his magical spear Cananatra hacked at one of the tentacles holding him down.
The blade cut deeply. Luckily the blighters aren’t all that resilient to damage. Even if they can just ignore it. Cutting a second time he managed to slice through the tentacle prompting the horror to unleash another gout of flames. The fire splashed across him, though thankfully the second null stone was up to the task and deflected the magical assault. A moment later the horror twisted and screamed in apparent pain, most likely due to the spear now in it. Taking advantage of the horrors brief inattention Cananatra struck out cutting himself free sufficiently to join the prince in slicing the demon to ribbons. Whether his unenchanted sword had any major effect he couldn’t really tell, but the end result was the horror retreating back to whatever hell it had crawled out of.
Rolling through the remaining slime of its passing Cananatra pushed himself to his feet with a grunt as his leg took his weight once again. He moved over to the prince, walking with a slight limp, and nodded to him. “Thanks. Just one more to go.” Of course that one more is a demon princess who doesn’t really want to die. he thought as he gazed up at the final combat. The demon had cut her way through most of Sultra’s retainers, though not everything had gone her way. He could see quite clearly that, on top of the sword stuck in her, two of her arms seemed to have been wounded. And unless all of sultra’s retainers had magic weapons, that likely means she isn’t jelly like those fire breathing ones.
Starting towards the final combat, limping slightly beside the prince Cananatra heard a called order from Syjahel. Turning he looked back to where jacks stood with a pair of shades and shook his head. “The shades can handle it.” he called back as he walked over to the two of them, assuming without looking the prince was following. “I think we’d be better used killing that thing.” he finished as he fell into step beside them.
Fall in with Syjahel and Carathyle. Assumedly the prince will tag along. Go kill a demon princess.
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