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Group 30 
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Trainee Warrior

Joined: Mon Jan 03, 2011 1:38 am
Posts: 33
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IC: Selkorethhad spent several days recouperating from his previous ordeal. Not normally one to give in to excess, even he had to admit that a soft bed and copious amounts of the establishments, admitedly pathetically weak, did wonders to help return him to fighting form after spending two straight days awake on a cross. Helkor was much less pleased with the situation, as he possessed the supernatural talent to sleep while being crucified, and spent his time throwing verbal barbs at Selkoreth. He, having no real taste to battles of words, usually responded with a short, grunted reply while mentally reminding himself that Helkor was just about the best companion he could hope for, and therefore it would be counter-intuitive to bash his skull in.

After a day long excursion, the others returned, with Malthang looking a little worse for the wear but bearing his equipment, so damn it all if he cared. He quickly pulled on his well worn but perfectly servicable armor and beltted his sword belt around his waist. He had to admit he felt no small amount of glee as he watcched the female shade go at the other one. She has fire in her, that's for sure. Maybe traveling with this group won't be so bad after all.

Eventually things started to die down, and Selkoreth felt the need to state the obvious, suggesting they discuss their next plan of attack. After a brief conversation, it was decided that they would wait until tomarrow before going after Captain Halketh, whose location Selkoreth provided. He added his musings on a plan of attack once there. I suggest we approach in our guise of noble and retainer. The reason doesn't much matter, recruiting, he took T'Keela's woman, whatever. Then, I incapacitate him, and once he is restrained. and most likely once again regained consciencness, we ask him nicely what we want to know. If he says no, we let our lady shade friend test out her new present. Once we know what we want, forcefully or not, we let our lady shade friend test out her new present until she gets it out of her system and is therefore less likely to experiment on us. What say the rest of you? Helkor mentioned something about a pension and their arrest papers. Selkoreth said I won't deny I fancy the idea of our records getting "lost", but after the rukus our groupmates stirred up I'm disinclined to kick the angry harpy's nest, if you catch my drift. You'll be on your own.

_________________
Name: Selkoreth Warpbane, warrior
Group 30
Stats: WS5 S5 T4 D2 I2
Equip: Longsword, Shield, Light Armor
Skills:


Mon Jun 27, 2011 6:40 pm
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
Posts: 656
Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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“Try not to get yourself killed, I went to a lot of effort to save your life,” scowled Malthang as Helkor stepped out the door. The warrior turned, flashing Ravensbane a mocking sneer,
“Now don’t start getting all sentimental on me shade.”
“I firmly believe that it is a shame to waste good cannon fodder.”
Helkor’s smile grew wider, “You’re really just a big softie aren’t you Ravensbane?”
Malthang chuckled, “I wonder if one day you shall put that theory to the test.”
“Whatever, I’ll be back soon, I don’t need you getting all choked up over me like some high-elf maiden, grow some backbone.”
“Well, if waltzing into the main citadel of one of the most powerful warlords in the world, as a criminal and fugitive, is what constitutes ‘having a backbone’, then I’d rather live to torture another day, dead elves don’t have ambitions.”
“Better dead and bold than dead and weak,” replied Helkor.
“How typical of a warrior, you’re as blunt as an orc’s sledgehammer, in more ways than one.”
“Well when it comes down to a scrap, if you had a ‘subtle’ little stiletto dagger and I had the big blunt warhammer, I know who would come out on top.”
“Yeah, me, because I’d shoot you dead at thirty paces.”
“Shoot me with a knife? And how does that work?”
“Throwing knives can be quite effective, I can demonstrate if you like.”
“Oh just get on with it,” interrupted Lenya loudly, “either slit each others throats and be done with it or get on with your jobs, stop waving your egos around and spraying testosterone everywhere, it’s really quite pathetic.”
The two males paused in their jeering match, turning to look at the fearsome female shade who stood by the entrance to the kitchen with arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently.
“Yeah, well, um, good luck anyway,” said Malthang as he turned back to Helkor, trying to avoid Lenya’s Mithril-melting glare.
“Good luck?” replied Helkor, “I’m not gonna be staying in the same room as her,” and with that he spun on his heel and dashed down the stairs, laughing quietly to himself as he went.
Malthang stood stock still, facing the doorway the warrior had just left as he heard the female shade’s footsteps, as soft as a cat’s, lightly approach him. With a gulp, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Let’s play a game, Malthang,” Lenya whispered in his ear.

An hour later Helkor returned, out of breath and casting cautious looks behind him as he made his way back into the group’s current hideout.
“Were you followed?” asked T’Keela, a hand on the pommel of his sword as he noticed the warrior’s backward glances, Helkor shook his head.
“And the mission?”
“Impossible,” replied Helkor as he closed the door, “they’ve doubled the guard on the records house and blocked all the sub-entrances, the only way to get in is through the main doorway, which is itself manned by a dozen guards.”
“They knew you were coming.”
The warrior nodded, looking concerned.
“What is more unusual is that they chose brute force over laying a trap,” stated Sirulleathe as he entered the room, his uncannily sharp hearing apparently having allowed him to catch the entire conversation.
“It would be far more desirable to lure in and capture you than scare you away, which I find worrying, it implies they didn’t feel they needed to catch you there.”
T’keela glanced at Sirulleathe, a wary look on his face as he considered this possibility, unable to fault the Khainite’s logic.
“Anyway, we need to be heading out soon if we want to have a little talk with Captain Halketh, where’s Malthang? I thought he’d be here to greet me, standing on the porch waving a hanky or something,” said Helkor.
T’Keela snorted at the image.
“Actually,” began Sirulleathe, “I think he’s hiding somewhere upstairs.”
“Hiding from who?”
“Lenya,” replied T’Keela and the Khainite in unison.
“Ah, I see. Why doesn’t he just kill her, or at least fight back? I mean despite all the ribbing I give him about things he’s not exactly incapable.”
Sirulleathe shrugged, “Who knows? She learned from him for a time, maybe he’s just happy to see her growing into a more fully rounded, sadistic Druchii. Or maybe he just likes the pain.”
“I suppose Masochism would be an asset in a culture which so glorifies the infliction of pain on others as our own does,” said T’Keela philosophically.
“Speaking of which, all we’ve done for two days is trade barbed words with each other and lounged about drinking wine, it’s not right. I feel filthy and weak, like some pathetic human noble. Let’s go torture someone,” declared Helkor, looking at his hands as if he was disgusted by the very sight of them not being covered in blood and gore.
T’keela’s laugh was cut short by a sound from upstairs which sounded suspiciously like a door being kicked in, followed by a shout of pained surprise and anger from a voice which sounded uncannily similar to Malthang’s.
“But first I suppose we should go and help him out,” sighed Helkor.
“How about I go and help him out whilst you restrain Lenya,” chuckled Sirulleathe, making a dash for the door.
“Thanks,” replied the warrior sarcastically, “I think she takes being cooped up in here even worse than the rest of us.”

“Take me to Captain Halketh, boy,” demanded T’Keela with as much regal arrogance as he could muster, which was quite a lot.
“R…Right away sir!” stuttered the young warrior in response, shrinking back from the noble and his intimidating retinue.
“I’m not a ‘sir’ you impudent little child, I’m a Lord,” barked T’Keela, “address me improperly again and I’ll have you strung up by your testicles over the Nauglir pens for them to play piñata with you!”
“Apologies Dreadlord, right this way.”
“Move!” snarled T’Keela, aiming a vicious kick at the warrior’s knee to encourage him along. As the warrior turned to lead the way, T’Keela tried to disguise the limp for the next few paces, attempting to work some feeling back into his right foot,
“Back when I was a noble the damn servants never wore steel shin-caps,” he muttered to himself as he hobbled along after their guide with as much dignity as he could.
The hunter group had arrived at the 15th Division’s barracks in full force, with T’Keela flanked by Helkor and the towering Selkoreth, both now able to go out into the city courtesy of their full-face helms which Malthang and Sirulleathe had retrieved. The three warriors were followed by Lenya and Malthang, each with a hand placed discretely on the hilts of weapons hidden beneath their cloaks, the concealment being more out of respect for the Druchii’s general disdain of outright aggression over subtlety and cunning than in any actual hope that the weapons would go without notice, nobody in their right minds would expect to find a Druchii noble or his retainers out and about in the city unarmed.
Behind the shades stalked the last member of the party, the silver haired Khainite as always appeared oblivious to everything around him, with his weapon-less hands out in the open, looking so relaxed that he’d make a bowl of jelly look tenser than a violin string, and yet for an elf that should have stuck out so much, he passed with surprisingly little notice, content to lurk in the shadows of his larger, more intimidating companions.
Their guide lead them through several, increasingly smaller rooms until they exited a back door into the chill Northern air again. They emerged into a pleasant little courtyard, a small flower pot with a black rose in full bloom sitting on one of the low walls. Crossing the small space, they arrived at a heavily-set wooden door, the sort meant to keep noise in and intruders out. The young guard knocked on the thick oak timbers and then retreated a step, looking dead ahead and standing at attention as if on parade, probably feeling T’Keela’s stare boring into his back as seconds stretched into minutes, the ‘noble’ impatient with the wait.
“Why didn’t we use the rear entrance? We’ve left too many witnesses coming in the front door,” whispered Lenya to Malthang, so quietly as to be inaudible to any but a shade’s ear.
“Front door is for business, back door is for the people he doesn’t want to be seen, he’s not going to let anyone he doesn’t know in through the back entrance,” replied Malthang. “Besides, our time in the city is almost up anyway, the guards will be closing in with their search for the missing warriors we rescued, we need to be out of the city with Varranaithe’s head by nightfall tomorrow or we risk being discovered, and I don’t fancy the chances of our mighty army of five against all of Ghrond’s garrison.”
The rest of the conversation was cut short by the heavy wooden door creaking open, framed in the doorway stood a tall Druchii, a few inches taller than Helkor, though still dwarfed by the massive form of Selkoreth. The captain was leanly-built with an aristocratically handsome face marred by a profusion of scars, many quite old but a few still relatively fresh, telling of his travails as a captain and likely also his fights to keep the position. Halketh was dressed in his full armour, the silver-steel shining with the gleam of regular polishing, and twin pommels encrusted with numerous precious gems jutted out of a pair of sword scabbards, one at either hip. The captain scowled at the young guard, who, to his credit, barely flinched at his commander’s stern gaze.
“Yes?”
“A Noble has requested an audience sir.”
“For what purpose?” The question was clearly directed at the subordinate, the captain completely ignoring the hunters, which T’Keela let slide, reasoning that he would be repaying the slight within a few moments.
“He, uh, did not say, Captain.”
Halketh’s hand lashed out in a backhanded slap which sent the young guard sprawling, slash marks from the Captain’s barbed gauntlet oozing blood across his cheek.
“And you evidently did not ask, fool. Get out of my sight, do not disturb us.”
The young guard sprang to his feet with a salute, turned on his heel and marched, swiftly, back towards the barracks. Captain Halketh turned to his guests with a serpentine smile,
“Apologies for my subordinate, he will be disciplined later, please step this way.”
The hunters followed the elf down a hall lit with witchfire globes, which burned with an unusual purple glow rather than the standard green, into a well-furnished and comfortable office room. The captain turned to face the hunter pack, leaning against a cold-iron desk at the head of the room.
“And what brings you to my humble abode?”
T’Keela studied the captain with curiosity, “It’s interesting how you accept complete strangers into this room where you are alone, without any of your men, you must be very confident in your security here, or foolishly overconfident in your own abilities.”
“I believe I have every right to be confident in both those things,” replied Halketh, “What Noble would be mad enough to harm one of the Drachau’s Vassals in the Drachau’s own city, surrounded by the Drachau’s men?”
The captain had his best bargaining face on, evidently considering this to be just a standard feeling out of one’s opposition before the talks truly commenced, but he would learn soon enough that the ‘talks’ these elves had in mind were far from what he expected.
“You see, you’re wrong there on both counts, because I’m not a noble,” sneered T’keela.
The captain’s eyes widened and his hand went to his sword as Sirulleathe rushed out of the shadows, but the Khainite was far too quick. Halketh’s sword was only half drawn by the time Sirulleathe was on him in a flurry of open-handed jabs, the first strike hit the captain’s left shoulder joint a half-inch above the armpit, iron-hard fingers driving into the pressure point, twisting as they went, wrenching at the muscle fibres and nerve endings beneath the skin. The arm spasmed once and then fell limp. At the same time Sirulleathe struck the elbow-joint of the right arm with his other hand, the arm tensed, snapping upwards with the muscles standing out like steel chords, the limb no longer responding to the brain’s commands. Halketh opened his mouth to scream as fiery agony flooded his thoughts from the pain receptors in his arms, but this was cut short by a vicious chop to the throat which left the Captain spluttering for air. Three more strikes; to the hollow of the throat, the centre of the chest and to the area just below the ribs, sent Halketh crashing into his desk, before he flopped to the floor, his whole body spasming as random contractions shivered along his length. The entire exchange had lasted little under three seconds.
“So what was the second count the captain was wrong on then?” asked Selkoreth lightly.
“The part about T’Keela not being completely mad,” quipped Malthang with a grin.
“Shut up,” snarled T’Keela good-naturedly, “I hope he’ll be in a condition to talk after that Sirulleathe, we can’t interrogate him if you’ve crushed his throat.”
“And you’d rather I let him scream? He’ll be able to talk when he comes round in a few moments.”
“Fair enough,” said T’Keela, watching as Captain Halketh’s body gradually stopped twitching and a painful sigh of breath passed the elf’s lips as his throat loosened again.
“Bounty hunters,” coughed Halketh as his eyes fluttered open.
“Yes, and if you’ll just answer our questions then we can be on our way and you’ll have no more fuss, so what do you say?”
“Get… Stuffed.”
“Ah well,” sighed T’Keela with mock disappointment, “I suppose we’ll have to do this the hard way, what a shame.”
The warrior lashed out with a brutal kick with his right boot to the Captain’s midsection, and T’Keela suppressed a howl of pain as this jarred the bruise he’d earned from kicking the steel shin-plates of the guard earlier.
“You’re supposed to be torturing the captive, not yourself,” laughed Malthang as he watched T’Keela grasping at his foot and massaging it frantically.
“Why don’t we put bets on who can make him spill the beans first,” growled Selkoreth as he cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers inside his gauntlets.
“Alright then, but I’m going first,” said Lenya in a an innocently light tone, which nonetheless would quite clearly brook no defiance, as she unrolled her set of knives and sat beside the fallen captain.
“Anyone wanna bet five gold pieces she doesn’t break him in twenty minutes?” asked Malthang, silence greeted him as Lenya gently cupped the man’s cheek, caressing it in a way which might have appeared affectionate if it weren’t for the blade in her palm weaving a trail of crimson wherever her hand passed.
“I thought not.”

“A warehouse in the East District,” rasped Halketh through ruined lips, “down an alley between Valekh’s Armour Smiths and a set of kitchens, you’ll find him there.”
The captain stared around blindly, his face a bloody ruin and the rest of him not in much better shape.
Malthang nodded appreciatively at Lenya,
“Very… innovative techniques.”
The female shade flashed a sweet smile, wiping the blood from her cheek.
“We have the information, let’s get moving,” said Helkor. The hunters stood and filed out of the room, Malthang was the last to leave. He paused in the doorway as he heard Halketh shuffling around on the floor.
“You’re going to leave me like this?” gasped the Captain.
“No,” replied Malthang as he pulled the trigger, without so much as a backward glance, shutting the door behind himself as he heard the corpse fall.

Right then, you have your location, the warehouse is two storeys tall, you could gain access through the windows on the second level if you jumped from the rooftops adjacent to the building (which really only the shades are capable of), otherwise the only way you can see in is through the front door. You need to make your plans for how you will enter the warehouse and what you will do once you’re in there, bearing in mind Varranaithe will be hiding in there somewhere, according to Halketh, and you need to make any special preparations for taking the target down, and of course getting out again as it will not take long for Halketh’s body to be found and sounds of a fight will draw the guard’s attention.

Sirulleathe will be creating a distraction for the group, he has business in the tower of sorceresses which should draw most eyes to the tower, allowing you to conduct your business and then get out as quickly as possible, remember that you need to take Varranaithe’s head as proof of the kill. Sirulleathe says he will rendezvous with you in the forest outside Ghrond where the group last made camp before entering the city when he is finished, if he makes it out, this means you will not have Sirulleathe with you when you go after Varranaithe. Make your plans, post them up, and let’s get hunting!

Helkor you could not retrieve your papers as the area was too heavily guarded, any attempt would have been suicide. Why do you think the guard was out in full force and not waiting to spring a trap at the records office?

Time is not on your side, as soon as Varranaithe hears Halketh is dead he will likely run for it, not to mention the fact the entire city will be looking for you, and they will know exactly who they are looking for when they find the captain’s body and the men under his command confirm you were the last to meet with him.

Deadline is this Sunday Night for mod post on Monday 4th of July.

OC: sorry this one was a bit late but a thunderstorm meant I had to keep my computer unplugged for a while

_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Tue Jun 28, 2011 11:58 pm
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
Posts: 152
Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor felt the old rage stir as Halketh backhanded the Druchii Guard and he watched the exchange between Halketh and T'Keela with vague distaste.

Damn all Officers and Nobles, Officers that are Noble and people that pretend to be Nobles. He thought sourly.

When Silluraethe attacked Halketh he watched, impressed despite himself and slowly clapped.

"Well done, Sir Shade." And he bowed.

And as Lenya began her grisly work he was reminded of why he hated Shades, he had no love for Halketh but this, this was . . . wrong?

Why should he care? What did it matter to him? Helkor sighed and tried to ignore those thoughts, they'd been creeping into his mind more and more lately and everytime he didn't have an answer.

The others left but he hung behind to search the office and the corpse for anything of value before catching up.

"Why did we not keep up the act of a noble and his retinue and find out about this Varanaithe without leaving behind a mutilated corpse? How do we know that we're not walking into a trap? People will say anything to stop the pain, for all we know we're walking into a trap and his ghost's laughing at us right now. And now the City Guard will know exactly who they're looking for."

He searched for more words to continue his tirade but none came to mind and he turned to thoughts of his family, now he'd be branded a murderer and while that was a hardly a major crime the murder of a noble was and his pension would be striken leaving his family in a hard place. There were times when he wondered why he didn't kill Selkoreth.

Forgive me Father. He thought and fought a wave of crushing despair.

Well, he hadn't had time to sort through the items he'd picked up in Halketh's office but with luck he could send anything of value to them, Father was a smart man and he would have saved some of what Helkor had sent, perhaps this would be enough and at long last his family could go to a better place.

It was a little wishful of him but right now all he really had was hope, if nothing else he could always come home and seek service in the local Noble's Guards.

He followed the motley group he'd someone been dragged into and laughed at the absurdness of the whole situation.

"Two shades, three warriors and a fake noble, sounds like a bad joke." He said to Selkoreth.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Wed Jun 29, 2011 4:42 am
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Executioner

Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
Posts: 156
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Malthang stalked from the room without a backward glance at the ruined form of the Captain, casually reloading his crossbow as he did so. They had learned what they needed and now needed to act upon it. Fast. He had also learned far more than he ever needed or wanted to about Lenya's skills with her new toys. When he was sure they could not be overheard he turned to the group.

"We are going to need to move quickly to take out the mark before he gets suspicious. I'd recommend me and Lenya take the rooftop approach to keep an overwatch while the rest of you enter through more conventional means. His abilities protect him from standard steel weapons, even as little as a crossbow bolt will be deflected in flight. How are we going to overcome that? If we can find a way to harm him I have a dose of Soulrot which will ensure that the job is done."

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Sun Jul 03, 2011 10:51 pm
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Trainee Warrior

Joined: Mon Jan 03, 2011 1:38 am
Posts: 33
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Once the deed was done, Selkoreth quickly scanned the room and the body for anything overtly useful/valuable that he could grab, knowing he wouldn't have time for a long search. When Helkor complained about killing Halketh, he grunted in response He never would have given us the information under that guise, and while it might be a trap with him dead, him alive and sending for the guard would be an almost cerrtain trap. Besides and at this point he turned and spit on the corpse with disgust,A self-importsnt, decadent fool like him who allows himself to be ruled by his lusts, can't even defend himself against a group of bounty hunters, and still operates under the assumption that he is better than everyone because of some worn out old name? Ghrond is better off without him. When Helketh said his little joke, Selkoreth chuckled and responded Indeed it does, though I have a feeling Varranaithe will be getting the punchline, cracking his knuckles as he said it.

As they were leaving, Malthang went over his plan, and Slekoreth chimed in Sounds like a good start. As for hurting him, I assume that as long as we aren't wearing gauntlets or steel boots we can punch and kick him, and a warehouse and the surrounding area is likely to have some old crates/discarded pieces of wood, sounds like a club to me if heavy enough. Not my prefered weapon, but gets the job done. After thinking a bit more he added Although, perhaps the easiest way would be to use that stun grenade our Khainite friend picked up for T'Keela. After he is incapacitated and under our control, figuring out how to remove his head should be easy, wonder if broken glass would work?

Selkoreth will proceed under the preceding plan. If along the way to the warehouse he spots the opportunity to pick up or break off a heavy piece of wood as an improvised club, he will do so. He will also remove his gauntlets if the are metal, and I am assuming that under the circumstances his boots are just leather.

_________________
Name: Selkoreth Warpbane, warrior
Group 30
Stats: WS5 S5 T4 D2 I2
Equip: Longsword, Shield, Light Armor
Skills:


Mon Jul 04, 2011 5:53 pm
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Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
Posts: 156
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Knocking him out through Sirruleathe's potion seems like the best strategy though it never hurts to have a contingency just in case. He's just the kind of slimy bastard who would have something to counter that. At that point I'm sure reason and diplomacy could come in handy. The shade looking pointedly at the warrior's fists one after the other at this last part.

If there are no objections we should probably get moving, T'Keela I'm assuming you know the best method to use Sirruleathe's concoction? As much as I hate to entrust possibly the most vital part of this plan to someone of your...worth, it is slightly difficult to use effectively while hanging from a rooftop. The shades usual wicked grin, seeminly reserved for when baiting the ex-noble, was plastered across his face briefly before the seriousness of the situation reasserted itself and the shade's cold mask slammed back into place.

Shall we?

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Tue Jul 05, 2011 8:32 am
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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“Happy hunting!” cried Sirulleathe cheerfully as he split from the hunter group, heading in the direction of the convent of sorceresses.
“Khaine be with you,” replied Malthang, “I have a feeling you’ll need him.”
Sirulleathe flashed the shade one of his wintry smiles, “Khaine is always with us,” he whispered, and then was gone, melting into the shadows of a dingy side street.
“How touching,” drawled T’Keela sarcastically, Lenya scowled at the ex-noble.
“You do know he is marching to his death to give us a free ticket out of here, there’s no way he’ll come out of that place alive, the sorceresses will skin him alive with their magics and tear his soul from the corpse to torment for years to come.”
“Courageous, I admit,” replied T’Keela, “but equally stupid, if he wants to die for us then let him.”
“You underestimate him,” said Malthang, “He still has debts to settle, he will not throw himself onto the flames until he has his revenge, no self-respecting Druchii would.”
“He’s a Khainite, they’re not exactly renowned for their mental stability.”
“And what are they renowned for? Being some of the most capable killers in all of Naggaroth. There are few things more dangerous than an unhinged fanatic, an unhinged elven fanatic with decades of training and a serious grudge behind him is one of those few.”
T’Keela reluctantly conceded the point with a nod, whilst the two newest recruits to the band watched with careful interest, evaluating their fellow’s perceptions of the mysterious, silver haired Khainite.
“Either way,” interrupted Helkor, “We’re wasting time.”
“He’s right,” said Lenya, “We need to get moving.”
The hunter band hesitated for a moment longer, each Druchii searching the faces of his or her ‘comrades’ for any signs of weakness or doubt, searching for a hint of betrayal or danger. After all, Druchii are not a very trusting, or indeed trustworthy, bunch. Then they set out, five pairs of booted feet gliding along the cobbles, propelling a concentrated bundle of lethal intent, bloodlust and cunning greed towards their unfortunate prey.

Nervously, a face poked out from behind a set of boxes, like a fox peeking out of its hole when it smells a hunter on the wind. Sharp ears picked up the gentle turning of a handle, the slight creaking of a door inching open, the muffled scraping of three pairs of boots cautiously advancing into the room. Soundlessly the fox gathered its courage, bared its fangs, and dashed out into the open.

Each of the warriors spotted Varranaithe at the same time, emerging from behind a stack of crates towards the back of the room on the right hand side, each of the warriors then dived for cover when they saw what he was holding in his hands. A beautiful, finely crafted, heartwood bow, strung with the plaited silver hairs from a unicorn’s mane, and carved with a flowing pattern shaded with the natural tones of the wood. This was no ordinary bow, this was a bow from the depths of Athel Loren, from the
tree-people, from some of the finest marksmen the world had ever known, this bow was of the Asrai.

And this bow, had found a target.

Helkor bellowed with pain and rage, a terrifyingly beautiful arc of blood cascading from the wound in his neck, the glimmering droplets of crimson shining like stars where they caught the light leaking in from the open doorway and the windows, before gravity pulled them back down into the shadows, never to feel the sun again.

T’Keela glanced across at the wounded warrior, Helkor was bleeding freely, but judging from the fact that he wasn’t spraying blood everywhere like a fountain, the cut must have missed the artery, nevertheless it looked quite deep. Had the master-forged bow been wielded by its makers, Helkor’s face, or his heart, would have been carved in two by the steel arrow-tip. As it was Varranaithe was a poor marksman and, even aided by such a powerful weapon, his inexperience was clearly shown by going for a head-shot at a moving target over firing at a much larger area such as the chest, and his mistake would likely cost him. Selkoreth risked poking his head out of cover, being rewarded by an arrow carving a furrow along the brow of his helm, the steel head carving through the metal like a hot knife through butter such was the bow’s power.

Gritting his teeth, T’Keela dashed from shelter, desperately trying to close the distance to his prey before the lethal bow could let loose another shot, but it was no use. Varranaithe pulled back, the arrow leapt from the string with all the power and ferocity of Fenrir loosed from his fetters at last, the projectile flashed through the air with dreadful grace like a falcon diving upon its prey. Flashed through the air, and straight out the window a dozen feet above and to the left of its intended target. Varranaithe spun around, partly in shock, but mostly because he was propelled by the thunderous impact of four crossbow bolts smashing into his back, one after another, spoiling his shot. As he turned, his gaze found the steely glare of Malthang on the floor above, standing on a small ledge open to the ground floor below, Lenya kneeling beside him.

Malthang snarled an Autarii curse as he saw Varranaithe knocked from his feet, winded, bruised, but far from incapacitated.
“That makes two of Old Maleth’s predictions true, first the damned wood-elf bow, and now a Kheitan made from the hide of a Sea Dragon to ward our shots.”
Normally even with the skin of a sea dragon lending him protection, Varranaithe still would not have survived all four of the bolts, squarely on target and at short range, but the projectiles the shades were using were fashioned from wood instead of black steel, to sneak under the Vauvalka’s eldritch wards. As it was the wood splintered or glanced from the protective scales, dealing considerable concussive force at the point of impact, but nothing severe. The shades frantically began working the ratchets on their crossbows to reload as Varranaithe shakily got to his feet, miraculously, he was still holding the bow.

T’Keela lengthened his strides, blood pumping furiously as he dashed towards his target, 35 yards, 30 yards, 25 yards, but it was no good, he wouldn’t reach the elf in time, he extended his right arm, playing his last card, making one last roll of the dice.

Varranaithe sneered at the onrushing warrior, he would never make it. Carefully he drew back the string, sighting at the chest this time, his target so close, and coming straight for him, the shot couldn’t be any easier. As Varranaithe sighted along the string, he saw the warrior hurl something, a little ball half the size of a fist, time’s flow slowed to a sluggish crawl as the grenade flew languidly through the air. As the ball’s arc drew level with Varranaithe’s eyes, less than a foot from his face, the Vauvalka saw its surface shimmer, shiver, flutter. Then there was light, and noise, and pain.
And then there was nothing.

T’keela smiled triumphantly as he felt the brilliant glare of the flash grenade caress his face like the cold summer sunshine. Even with his eyes closed tight the flare still shone through his eyelids, attesting to how bright the flash must have been.
Suddenly T’Keela was flying backwards, his mouth opened with a gasp of pain and blood came pouring out, adding to the gushing flow spurting from his torso. He landed heavily on the floor and felt something snap inside, his breathing was ragged and laboured, his chest burned like he’d drank a bottle of dragon’s breath. The warrior opened his eyes, his vision blurring, going grey. He could just about discern the outline of an arrow sticking obscenely from his chest; he saw the feathers of the fletching flicker mockingly, and then he passed into oblivion.

Varranaithe howled with pain as he clawed at his face, it felt like a thousand tiny needles had been driven through his eyes and were carving jaggedly into his brain. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, the pain began to subside. Varranaithe opened his eyes. At first there was nothing but white, but then blobs began to form, and then those blobs began to define themselves into recognisable shapes, colour washed across his view like a rainbow forming after a heavy storm, and he could see again. The first thing he saw was the foolish warrior lying on the floor, an arrow sticking from his chest. Varranaithe couldn’t recall having fired, in fact, in a sense, he hadn’t. As the flash grenade exploded right in front of him, Varranaithe’s body went onto autopilot with one of the most basic reactions ingrained deep in the subconscious, his right hand released the bowstring and came up, trying to shield his eyes from the light. The shot was wild, blind, but at such close range and with the shot already targeted, it was almost impossible to miss. The arrow had glided out of the light-storm engulfing the Vauvalka and plunged into the warrior’s chest on the right-hand side, easily punching through his armour, with more force than a nauglir’s kick. There, the metal head proceeded to wreak havoc, ricocheting off the third rib, taking a sizable chunk out of it in passing, it sliced through the lung, cracking the fourth rib as it exited out T’Keela’s back, and left a gaping hole swiftly filling with blood in its wake.

Varranaithe laughed at his good fortune, the warrior would take some time to die from such a wound, but he would not be able to fight in this battle anymore, and that just left one more between himself and a swift exit out of the warehouse, and Ghrond altogether. Speaking of which, where was the last warrior?
“Boo,” growled a voice behind him, Varranaithe turned his head to look over his shoulder, slack-jawed with shock. A giant figure towered over him, the elf’s eyes smouldering with cold rage.
“I never did like this city,” spat Selkoreth.
Varranaithe looked down at his stomach, staring dumbly at the sharp length of wood the burly warrior had obviously torn or hacked off one of the many crates in the room and thrust through his back, and Varranaithe realised his folly. These people had known his weakness; they had approached him with wood, not steel. If only he’d had more power, he could have stopped that as well, he could have made himself safe, he could have lived. Varranaithe roared with anger, pain and, more than anything, sheer bloody-minded terror at the prospect of facing oblivion. His hatred and his spite welled up within him, he would not die here, he could not die here. Varranaithe let loose one last scream of thwarted fury, crying, begging, pleading for more strength, more time, more power.
And in the depths of the abyss, something answered back.

A pillar of black energy engulfed the vauvalka, a seething maelstrom of magical force that howled and gibbered with the voices of madness, the voices of the damned. The voices of demons. Selkoreth released his improvised weapon and took a few uncertain steps back, watching the frightening display with trepidation. The maelstrom continued to grow, swirling with the winds of chaos until it reached critical mass, and then the sphere imploded with the sound of an entire dimension being put through the ringer and squeezed out the other side, which, metaphorically speaking, is a fairly accurate description of what had just happened. When Selkoreth looked up, he saw Varranaithe standing exactly where he had been when the storm engulfed him, his arms were outstretched, his face turned upwards as if gazing upon the face of a god. He dropped his arms to his sides, and his head rolled around to face the warrior over his shoulder in a distinctly unnatural motion, a purple tongue like a serpent’s dangled down past his chin onto his chest, lolling from a mouth gaping with a maniacal grin. His veins stood out like a black spiderweb across his skin, and his eyes were wide and staring, with no whites, the entire eyeball the colour of darkest night, the colour of the depthless chasms where the dragons below dwell, the colour of the dark mother’s soul.
Varranaithe, or whatever he had become, contemptuously ripped the length of splintered wood from his stomach and tossed it aside, leaving a gaping hole which flowed freely with thick, syrupy ichor. He strode up to Selkoreth, who stood his ground, a hand on his sword. Somehow the thing, for that was how best to describe the creature now, was still holding onto the wood-elf bow with a death grip. Hammering its fist out, the thing smashed the wood against Selkoreth’s stomach, snapping the bow like a twig and lifting the warrior off his feet, sending him hurtling into the far wall. The creature giggled insanely as it dropped the broken longbow to the floor, and then the darkness tainting the elf’s soul began to recede, the ichor draining from his veins, his obsidian eyes returned to their normal grey hue, the hideous tongue rolling up and disappearing inside his cavernous maw which also resumed its regular size and shape. Varranaithe took a deep, gasping breath, and looked at the devastation.
A loathsome grin slowly spread across his face, and then he turned tail and fled.

Well, it appears the target has been possessed by a demon, not a major demon, we’re not talking Tz’arkan scale here or anything, just something very minor like Bloodletter or Daemonette level, nevertheless this will make him a very dangerous foe (considering you’re all supposed to be equal to 6-point DE Warriors right now), but this is all by the by, right now you need to get out of Ghrond. Fast. The three warriors are rather banged up, of them T’Keela is by far the worst with an arrow through the lung, without some form of treatment he will die within the next few hours and currently he is unconscious. Helkor got off relatively lightly with an arrow grazing his neck with a fairly deep cut which luckily missed the artery, he is conscious and if the bleeding is stopped he will be able to fight, though he will be weak. Selkoreth shouldn’t need any treatment, his armour having absorbed most of the blow, but he will be rather stiff, battered and bruised for a few days whilst he gets over that. So discuss, how are you getting out of the city (the gate might be a good bet whilst it is still open), what you are going to do about your wounded comrades etc. Will you take the direct route through the marshalling squares or a longer route through the back streets?

Selkoreth you find 5 gold and some interesting papers and documents from searching the captain's office, when you find the time you can look at the papers to see what they reveal (I.E I'll send you a message telling you what they say when your character will have time to study them)

Helkor, you gain 4 gold from searching the captain's corpse and you can also take the captain's bastard sword to use or sell as you wish.

Deadline is next Sunday as per usual.


OOC side note: Writing Druchii Battle Scene + listening to Lux Aeterna = Epicness


_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Wed Jul 06, 2011 12:20 am
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Noble
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Joined: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:37 am
Posts: 400
Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
Post 
The last thing T'Keela felt was seething rush of heat before he lasped into complete oblivion and then nothing apart from the consistent throb of heat, as the warmth slowly trickled out of his body with his life blood. He tried to open his eyes but he was shrouded in blackness, he tried to call out to one of his companions, Lenya, Helkor, even Malthang but there was no reply. The last thing he remembered was... the burning in his chest and the length of an arrow protruding from his chest. So this is death? Rather dull And then he weeped...

So since I'm unconcious as far as I know... T'Keela is going to have an inner monologue cry sesh. Unless I die, that could be interesting...

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Thu Jul 07, 2011 5:17 am
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Executioner

Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
Posts: 152
Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
Post 
Helkor raised his fist in salute to the Silluarathe as the cheerful Khainate vanished to buy them some time.

He still thought that the Khainate was disturbing as hell but he felt a grudging respect for him and the sacrifice he was making.

He checked the four gold coins he'd found on Halketh and the Bastard Sword he'd lifted off the corpse and listened impatiently as T'Keela argued with Lenya and spoke up:

"Either way, we're wasting time."

They headed out and then Varranaithe attacked, he bellowed in rage and in terror as the arrow struck his neck and he thought it'd severed the artery and then T'Keela went down, Malthang and Lenya were unable to bring the Noble down and then finally Selkoreth slammed a length of wood into Varranaithe's spine and Helkor drew a breath of relief before something he thought he'd left behind along with the rest of the Northern Front possessed Varranaithe, threw Selkoreth aside like a rag doll and left.

"The smart thing would have been to attack us with several of his guards and bring us in for questioning and then finish us off." Not that he was complaining, he was just happy he was still alive.

He ripped a length of cloth from his cloak and quickly tied it around his neck to stop the bleeding, he'd come close to dying before he just couldn't remember when.

He stood and cursed as the room whirled and then stabilized.

He knelt beside T'Keela and winced. "We'll have to find a damn good healer or a sorceress if we want him to live, Lenya, are you any good with healing? We don't have much time."

He quickly removed his cloak and broke down a long empty crate with a few well-placed kicks and tied the cloak around two of the stronger looking pieces and with Selkoreth's help lifted the unconcious T'Keela on the stretcher.

"We need to move and now. With T'Keela like this we can't the direct route but if we go through the back streets we can reach the gate and hopefully the guards will assume we're with them and will let us and a man on a stretcher through without to much trouble."

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Thu Jul 07, 2011 4:35 pm
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Executioner

Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
Posts: 156
Post 
Malthang breathed deeply and surveyed the carnage left in the wake of the sorcerer 's battle with the group. Both of the new additions were sporting what seemed for the most part to be minor injuries though Helkor appeared to be bleeding fairly heavily from the neck. Who knows, Thought the shade, perhaps this will limit some of his smart arsed remarks. Though I doubt it. T'Keela looked in a bad way and while he would usually take some relish in that it would look suspicious for a band of "retainers" to be fleeing the city in a hurry shortly before their dead or dying master was found on the streets.

Quickly and nimbly the shade made his way to the street and jogged over to where the noble was lying prostrate.

"I have knowledge of healing, we need to find somewhere quiet and safe so I can inspect his wound. If we can stop it bleeding we can bandage it and hide it with cloaks. If we are quick we can still get to the gates before they shut and pass him off as having drunk too much and insulting someone he shouldn't have. Would explain how we all need to leave at the same time and his current condition. Helkor your wound could have been caused in the same...disagreement. Where should we take him?

_________________
Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Mon Jul 11, 2011 6:27 pm
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Trainee Warrior

Joined: Mon Jan 03, 2011 1:38 am
Posts: 33
Post 
Selkoreth watched as T'Keela made his foolhardy frontal charge, and chose that moment to make his move. He smashed one of the crates next to him, breaking off a piece of wood. Making sure to cover his eyes when the grenade went off, he next around his blinded opponent and impaled him with it from behind, hot blood spattering him in the process. He didn't have time to gloat, however, as the next thing he knew he was on his rear end, banged up and staring at a sight that made his blood boild. He hated nobles, with their decadence and excess rotting the great druchii from the inside out, but their was one thing he hated more: chaos. He had served his time in the army on the northern front, and they didn't call him warpbane for nothing. It was a difficult thing to stop himself from ripping off the creatures tongue and strangling him with it, but he knew it wouldn't do himm any good to die in a fit of rage. So, he let their quarry go.

In the aftermath, he surveyed the group. He appeared to be the least wounded of the warriors, with T'Keela on death's door. He was glad the others came to the conclusion to bring him with; be a pity to waste such a resource. Malthang thought he could heal him, but first they had to move. Selkoreth added his part as he helped lift the makeshift stretcher. I agree with both of you. Malthang's cover story sounds plausible, and we would be best served sticking to back alleys. Now lets get moving, the sooner we get out of here and patch ourselves up the sooner we can track down that damned, tainted, traitorous bastard and I can rip out his throut with my bare hands. And then get paid to do it to boot.

_________________
Name: Selkoreth Warpbane, warrior
Group 30
Stats: WS5 S5 T4 D2 I2
Equip: Longsword, Shield, Light Armor
Skills:


Mon Jul 11, 2011 7:03 pm
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Trainee Warrior

Joined: Mon Jan 03, 2011 1:38 am
Posts: 33
Post 
Selkoreth watched as T'Keela made his foolhardy frontal charge, and chose that moment to make his move. He smashed one of the crates next to him, breaking off a piece of wood. Making sure to cover his eyes when the grenade went off, he next around his blinded opponent and impaled him with it from behind, hot blood spattering him in the process. He didn't have time to gloat, however, as the next thing he knew he was on his rear end, banged up and staring at a sight that made his blood boild. He hated nobles, with their decadence and excess rotting the great druchii from the inside out, but their was one thing he hated more: chaos. He had served his time in the army on the northern front, and they didn't call him warpbane for nothing. It was a difficult thing to stop himself from ripping off the creatures tongue and strangling him with it, but he knew it wouldn't do himm any good to die in a fit of rage. So, he let their quarry go.

In the aftermath, he surveyed the group. He appeared to be the least wounded of the warriors, with T'Keela on death's door. He was glad the others came to the conclusion to bring him with; be a pity to waste such a resource. Malthang thought he could heal him, but first they had to move. Selkoreth added his part as he helped lift the makeshift stretcher. I agree with both of you. Malthang's cover story sounds plausible, and we would be best served sticking to back alleys. Now lets get moving, the sooner we get out of here and patch ourselves up the sooner we can track down that damned, tainted, traitorous bastard and I can rip out his throut with my bare hands. And then get paid to do it to boot.

_________________
Name: Selkoreth Warpbane, warrior
Group 30
Stats: WS5 S5 T4 D2 I2
Equip: Longsword, Shield, Light Armor
Skills:


Mon Jul 11, 2011 7:07 pm
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Scourge
Scourge
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
Posts: 656
Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
Post 
The ragged group of bounty hunters looked much the worse for wear as they exited the warehouse, with T’Keela on a stretcher and Helkor sporting a make-shift bandage around his neck which was slowly being soaked with his own blood. Quickly they shuffled into formation, with Lenya at the rear, Helkor and Selkoreth holding T’Keela’s stretcher in the middle of the group and Malthang leading the way into the darker back-roads of the military city. Here the warehouses and older barracks that had fallen into disrepair loomed over the alleys like great crows with their wings spread. The orderly layout of the city was forgone in these areas for the sake of necessity, with the city expanding to a point where their simply wasn’t room for the spacious marching squares and wide roads that marked the rest of the Ghrond, so here a series of cramped, winding side-streets surprisingly reminiscent of the seedier districts in Naggaroth’s other great cities prevailed. The shades began to get twitchy as walls closed in around them, a sense of claustrophobia descending on the wilderness elves, and well-honed battle-senses screamed of danger in this ambush-friendly maze.

Suddenly the group emerged into a wide-open space, a decrepit shrine to Khaine stood in the centre of the plaza, obviously an old marshalling square where the troops had gathered to pay obeisance and ask the favour of the bloody-handed god, before it had fallen out of use. The sudden emergence out into the light of day from the dark confines of the alley slightly disorientated the group, and each of the bounty hunters took a deep breath of the cold northern air, grateful to be out in the open once again. Malthang relaxed slightly as his eyes drank in the details of the expanse, the cobbled square looked to be about 200 paces across and all of the entrances and exits were in plain view with no buildings twisted or overhanging to the side where they might conceal a path from the shade’s watchful eyes.

But all of the shade’s careful analysis of the area was washed from his mind by a rumbling sound his keen ears picked out from the general background noise of the military city, it was so faint as to be almost unperceivable, but it was gradually growing louder. Malthang glanced at his companions to see their reactions, the warriors seemed oblivious to the shade’s concerns, but he noticed Lenya too had her ears pricked and was listening intently. The rumbling continued to grow, soon the cobbles beneath their feet began to vibrate and Malthang could see even the warriors were beginning to take notice. The sound continued to grow, now it was like the low-pitched growling of a dragon woken from its slumber, the looser cobbles began to rattle and the vibrations rapidly grew in intensity until they felt like the great land-spasms of the Anullai.

Malthang’s eyes searched the surrounding area for the cause of the disturbance, but it soon became clear that, whatever this was, it was coming from much further into the city, and so the shade turned his gaze to the skyline.
His eyes widened and his jaw gaped at what he saw.
Lightning crackled and snapped around Ghrond’s highest tower like some mad fireworks display and the very air warped and twisted like putty in the hands of a child. Jutting out from the central citadel and soaring into the iron-grey sky, the convent of sorceresses was glowing with sorcerous energy, and the tower was visibly trembling as if quaking in fear from the clash of terrible powers within. Suddenly the sound died and the rattling subsided, the cobbles settled and the tower ceased to quaver. For a moment, there was complete silence as even the wind paused to take a breath.

Then there was a deafening bang, and the top floor of the convent was just… gone. Replaced, by a shimmering sphere of crimson which rippled and swirled like water or, as Malthang rapidly began to suspect, blood. Then there was the shockwave, a gut-churning rumble like thunder which made the floor heave and buildings groan. Malthang double over in pain such was its strength, and if it was so potent here on the outskirts of the city, how much more powerful would it be in the epicentre? The orb of blood exploded outwards, the sky darkened as a wave of gore eclipsed the sun and hovered over the city for a moment, before descending like a colossal tidal wave. It fell in great, fat greasy droplets, it stung like hail and soon the cobbles were stained red by the unnatural downpour, it sounded like countless hammers crashing onto sheets of steel and it felt like the heavens would weep their crimson tears for all eternity. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the rain ceased. The hunters gasped with relief and cast off their cloaks as they stood upright again, drenched to the skin in blood. As each turned their eyes to the tower of sorceresses, or what was left of it, they saw an orb of darkness explode from the wreckage like a bat bursting from the depths of hell, it arced across the sky like a shooting star and soared over Ghrond’s walls and far from sight.

Another hushed silence fell on the square as the hunters gathered their wits and tried to piece together what had happened, but they were interrupted by a slow, mocking clap and a sharp whistle from the other side of the square. An armoured Druchii stood in one of the entrances to the alleys with a sneer plastered across his face and a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Looks like you were caught in a bit of a storm my friends. Raining blood, shrieks of chaos, and mysterious strangers sneaking around in the back-alleys, I think I’d better take you back to my barracks for a few questions.”
The warrior studied the five elves before him, and his grin grew wider.
“What an interesting day.”

Well then, you have a plan to get out of the city, a (flashy) distraction, and all that stands in your way is a single elf, what will you do? Fight, flight, bargain or persuade? Judging by his arms and armour the elf is likely a captain of the guard, of the same rank as Halketh. You are in a wide-open square with about a dozen entrances into various narrow alleyways leading off it on the outskirts of Ghrond. Deadline is Monday.

_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Tue Jul 12, 2011 10:09 pm
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Executioner

Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
Posts: 152
Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
Post 
Helkor half-walked half-ran doing his best to not jounce T'Keela.

"Hold on damn you." He hissed at the insensate Druchii. "I've come to far for you to die on me."

And then the ground began to rumble, Helkor felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Oh, God, not again. He thought and swore viley.

He gestured sharply to Malthang and they quickly sat the stretcher down and Helkor knelt, braced himself and did his best to keep the stretcher stable as the ground pitched and heaved like a wild horse, the buildings around them and streets beneath them groaned and groaned, dust rose into the air and he looked up to see the top of the Sorceress's Tower vanish, lightning crashed and then there was a deafening bang.

A giant orb of blood rose from where the massive crown of the tower had been and then flew apart over Ghrond and then blood rained down and.

Helkor grunted as the shockwave hit and then the bloody rain began to fall, he knelt and covered himself and T'Keela as best he could and caught Selkoreth's eye. "I thought I left this sort of thing behind me on the Northern Front!"

At last the rain of burning blood abated and Helkor stood and cast of his cloak. In the distance he could see smoke rising from the center of the City and hear groans and screams.

He doffed his Helm and shook some of the gore from it and put it back on in time to see a Druchii Captain appear out of the Alley and threaten to bring them in.

"Damn, damn and damn." He hissed.

Helkor felt the familiar surge of desperate rage and grim determination that he'd always felt in the Shieldwall right before the horrors from the Ice came howling out of the snow and crashed into their ranks.

He drew his Sword and raised his Shield.

"You should know better than wander the Alleys of Ghrond alone, we outnumber you, go home. Or we will kill you." He said to the Druchii Captain as he took a stance.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Thu Jul 14, 2011 4:30 am
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Trainee Warrior

Joined: Mon Jan 03, 2011 1:38 am
Posts: 33
Post 
Selkoreth Hurried down the ally ways with the rest of the group. He could see that the shades were visibly uncomfortable with the confines, but nothing to be done about that. Then, all of a sudden, they emerged into an open square. The shades started acting a little strangly, and a minute or so later he knew why. A rumble filled the city, shaking the very streets and buildings. Then, it suddenly stopped for a few anxious seconds. He looked at Helkor and saw that he must have been suspecting the same thing, and joined the other warrior in bracing on the ground. Godd thing too, because the city was then wracked by an explosion at least twice as strong as the pre rumbles, the topof the coven tower disappeareed, and an orb of blood expanded to paint Ghrond red. Helkor looked at him and commented about leaving this behind at the northern front, and Selkoreth replied So did I, and it sets my blood boiling to see it. At the rate we're going it's going to drive me mad if I don't get to kill some thrice damned chaos tainted wretch to relieve the pressure.

After words, the group began to stand up and collect themselves. All of asudden, another elf appeared and greeted them with mocking applause. THis did nothing to relieve Selkoreth's already foul mood, quite the contrary in fact. From his arms he must be a captain or officer of some sort. At first he was afraid the shades would try and talk their way out. THankfully, Helkor beat them too it, laying it down for the elf in no uncertian terms. Hungry for an outlet, for a real fight, Selkoreth took up a fighting pose next to Helkor and spat out You should know my friend here is far more generous than I. You should make your decision quickly, before i lose my patience and resind his offer to allow you to flee with your life.

_________________
Name: Selkoreth Warpbane, warrior
Group 30
Stats: WS5 S5 T4 D2 I2
Equip: Longsword, Shield, Light Armor
Skills:


Mon Jul 18, 2011 1:33 am
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Executioner

Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
Posts: 156
Post 
Malthang hurried down the narrow alleys holding T'Keela's stretcher in one hand and his crossbow in the other, eyes trained on every shadow, flicker and window, ears pricked for the slightest noise. When they hit the square the sudden space and light almost caused the Autarii to flinch. Almost. Crossbow raised the group entered the courtyard, and that was when he noticed the rumbling. The city-dwellers with their inferior senses hadn't picked up on it yet but it was there. And growing. The explosion shook the city and it was all Malthang could do to hold his footing until it subsided and the crimson rain stopped falling, filling the shades nostrils with the heady mix of blood and death. Just as he was starting to haul himself back together a single clap echoed around the square, in the time it took for the mystery hands to separate and come together again Malthang had raised his crossbow, swept the courtyard and pinpointed the source. A lone city-dweller, reasonably well appointed for arms and armour. But alone. A wicked grin split his features even as the crawling sensation in his gut started again whenever something wasn't quite right. Helkor and Selkoreth had about the rights of it, even if it was a trap they couldn't go out looking like mewling slaves.

"Beware, this is no doubt an ambush." the shade whispered, his voiced pitched at a hunters level to carry no further than the immediate surroundings. While the two warriors exchanged pleasantries with the lone figure across the square Malthang put his not inconsiderable skills into trying to determine whether there were any other guardsmen lying in wait, his crossbow never straying from putting a bolt through the guardsman's chest if he pulled the trigger. Of course, being the sensible shade he was, he was also looking for a way out just in case things did take a turn for the worse.

_________________
Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Mon Jul 18, 2011 7:33 am
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Scourge
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
Posts: 656
Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
Post 
“Go Home?” Echoed the captain mockingly.
“I fear you underestimate me quite seriously, I’m insulted at the very suggestion.”
“A fight it is then,” cried Selkoreth joyously. Bellowing a battle cry and hefting his sword, the warrior dashed across the square, shortly followed by Helkor. As the warriors charged towards the sneering captain, Malthang cast his eyes across all the nooks and crannies each of the entranceways into the alleys afforded, enemies could be hiding in any of the shadowy back-streets. As the shade turned, he caught the faintest glimmer of motion out of the corner of his eye.
“Lenya, Move!” shouted Ravensbane, bringing his crossbow to bear on a point just over the female shade’s left shoulder. Lenya dived aside without hesitation, she screamed in pain as a flash of silver scattered crimson droplets into the air, a cut meant to split her from crown to navel instead only taking a chunk out of the lady’s thigh. Malthang fired and the assailant staggered backwards from the force of the shot, but his gleaming breastplate managed to turn aside the deadly bolt that had been gliding straight for his heart. The shade stifled a curse and began reloading his crossbow as he sized up his opponent, the Druchii looked to be fairly high ranking, likely the captain across the square’s lieutenant. He was at least six and a half feet tall and wore full plate armour worked to bear the faces of snarling serpents, before him he held an enormous two-handed broadsword which looked like it had been stolen from a Chaos warrior. Malthang snarled another savage curse as he realized the lieutenant would be on him before he could fire again. With the warriors on the other side of the square, the two shades had been left at the mercy of a heavily armed and armoured opponent in close quarters, not the favoured match up for a marksman.
“By the Dark Mother’s cursed tit, I’m really in for it this time,” swore Malthang as he watched his foe approach, the deadly Broadsword weaving glittering patterns through the air.

Helkor heard Malthang yell for Lenya to move and the female shade’s cry of pain as he pounded towards his target. The warrior risked a glance over his shoulder for a moment to assess the situation, Lenya was down and bleeding, and Malthang was squaring off against an enemy warrior. The shade had been right, it was an ambush. Not good.
“And what made you think I was alone?” whispered the mocking voice in his ear.
Helkor whipped his head round, his eyes widening with shock, to see the captain mere inches from him. Helkor reacted on instinct, swinging the Bastard Sword he had acquired from Halketh’s corpse in a vertical block to his right side which transformed into a chopping thrust to the captain’s vitals. But the captain was too canny and experienced to be caught by such an attack, instead of trying to meet the blow of the long and powerful sword of Helkor, he instead stepped inside the arc, standing virtually nose to nose with the bounty hunter. At such close range the captain could not use his sword either, well, not the blade at any rate. Helkore was hurled off his feet by the thunderous impact of the captain smashing the pommel of his sword into the warrior’s ribs, at that moment Selkoreth joined the fight with a tremendous diagonal slash from behind, but the Captain neatly pirouetted away from the assault on his blindside. Selkoreth followed with a horizontal slash meant to open his opponent’s belly, but the captain caught the longsword between the intersecting blades of his own paired swords in a powerful block, rolling his wrists, the captain twisted Selkoreth’s blade aside with his left hand sword and stabbed thrice in quick succession with his right hand blade before Selkoreth could recover, the attacks rattled off the huge warrior’s armour with a sharp clanging sound, unable to find an opening in the articulated metal plates. On the defensive now, Selkoreth furiously backpedalled, desperately parrying every stroke he could, but the captain’s lighter swords danced around his guard with ease, the blades glancing off the hunter’s armour with a steady rat-a-tat-tat like someone knocking on a door. And Selkoreth knew worse was to come, right now it felt like he was merely being slapped around, like the captain was toying with him. Instead of aiming for vulnerable joints or gaps in the full-faced helm Selkoreth was wearing, the captain was bouncing his sword harmlessly from the breastplate, as if demonstrating how many times he could have cut the warrior’s heart out were it not for the steel between his blade and the flesh it sought. And an experienced warrior himself, Selkoreth marvelled at how the Captain had so effortlessly taken control of the fight. Knowing he was no match for Helkor and his bastard sword’s reach and power at distance, the captain had instead moved close enough to prevent Helkor from using his blade’s strength, and knowing he was at a disadvantage fighting two against one, the captain had knocked Helkor out of the fight momentarily with a non-lethal, but swift pommel strike rather than trying to engage both foes at once with lethal strokes. And he had also so easily turned his defensive stroke to block Selkoreth’s attack into an offensive counter-attack, and then poured on pressure to keep the hunter, an aggressive warrior by nature, on the defensive. All of this pointed to a skilled weapons-master who knew how to take control of the battlefield and fight with his own strengths to the opponent’s weaknesses. Before, with the element of surprise and a Khainite on their side, the hunters had had little trouble in taking down an unarmed captain, but this time their opponent was in his element, had his swords in his hands and was ready for them.
Selkoreth was rapidly beginning to feel outmatched.
Realising he was fighting a superior foe on treacherously slippery footing with his allies in no better shape, Selkoreth did what any sensible Druchii would do.
He attacked.
Roaring an oath to the sky, Selkoreth planted his feet, ignored the four blindingly-fast sword strokes he had been attempting to parry and let them bounce off his armour, had the captain been attacking seriously he would have plucked out both the warrior’s eyes and carved a new smile on his face in a heartbeat, but instead the attacks fluttered across Selkoreth’s breastplate again with too-little force to do any harm. The hunter then took a firm grip on his sword and lashed out in a broad sweep aimed at his foe’s midsection, but the captain was already dancing backwards from the slash before it had even begun, having read Selkoreth’s decision in the glimmer of his eyes, perhaps even before Selkoreth had arrived at the decision himself. The warrior pressed on, taking measured sweeps and thrusts meant to contain his enemy’s movements more than do any real harm, hoping to box him in long enough for…
Selkoreth caught sight of a shimmer of motion over the captain’s shoulder, without hesitation he put all of his strength into a mighty overhead blow looking to split his opponent’s skull or, more likely, force him backwards onto something equally deadly. But unfortunately, the captain had read the danger in the momentary flick of Selkoreth’s eyes, instead of dodging backwards, he ducked and spun to his right, slithering underneath Helkor’s decapitating stroke from behind. The captain’s swords flashed out, seizing the opportunity presented by his opponent’s commitment to their attacks. As he spun, his right hand blade swept around in a dazzling arc towards Helkor’s already-wounded neck, but he had misjudged the hunter’s speed, instead of deepening the furrow in Helkor’s throat, the captain’s sword snatched away the makeshift bandage around the warrior’s wound as he jerked his head away. Selkoreth saw the silvered steel pass within a hair’s breadth of opening his companion’s throat, and so focused was he on the captain’s first, eye-catching slash, that he never saw the second attack coming.
Had Selkoreth been of normal size, or, more accurately, of normal height, he would have taken the thrust straight through the eye. As the captain carved at Helkor, his left hand sword stabbed from under his right arm at the distracted Selkoreth. The hunter was stooping, having bent over with the follow through from his own mighty attack so that his head was now at the captain’s chest-height, and the blade darted out with deadly precision and speed, but Selkoreth’s helm was at such an oblique angle to the sword thrust that instead of slipping through the eye slit the steel sliced off the upper lip of the T-shaped opening instead. The two bounty hunters jerked back, gaining a little breathing space for a moment as they backed off and measured up their opponent again.
“Not too shabby,” drawled the captain, “A little bit of luck, but you are certainly competent swordsmen.”
“Thanks, that means so much to me,” replied Selkoreth scathingly.
The captain smirked, “Shall we have another bash then?”

Well then, good job Malthang, you correctly predicted an ambush and saved lenya’s head for it though she has taken a deep wound to the leg. You are facing two opponents, the captain facing off against Helkor and Selkoreth and the Lieutenant against Malthang and Lenya with poor old T’Keela still stranded on his stretcher. Do you think you can prevail against them? You’re being a bit reckless at the moment and getting banged up for your troubles, perhaps discretion is the better part of valour? Malthang, as noted in the post, your opponent will be in sword range before you can fire your crossbow, when you had a look about for a possible escape route you saw an alleyway behind you which will lead you into an older district with plenty of twists and turns and side-streets to lose any pursuers, Helkor and Selkoreth are also positioned so that they can make a break for the same alley without having to get past the captain, there are several other alleys behind you all which you could make a break for. Of all these alleys you could flee to, Malthang scanned one and knows it connects with the wider city after some narrow twists and turns, but the others could lead anywhere, into the city, or possibly into dead-end cul-de-sacs where you could be cornered.
Currently I am ad-libbing the combat situations a bit as people are not saying exactly what they want their characters to be doing, for instance, Helkor and Selkoreth both took a threatening tone to the captain and when he didn’t back off, I assume you wanted your characters to go after him, but neither of you actually said if you were going to attack or not, so I just guessed that is what you wanted to do based on your posts. If you want your characters to specifically do something like attack, hold back, guard etc then It’s a good idea to put it in your post (directly) as I’m not telepathic and I’ll just select the most appropriate action otherwise based on your posts, but that may end up with your character doing something you don’t want them to.
Helkor I assume you are using the bastard sword rather than your long-sword as the bastard sword has the same speed but more power than a long-sword: link to items page
Thanks everyone for getting all your posts in before the deadline!
Deadline is Next Monday.


_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Mon Jul 18, 2011 11:15 pm
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Noble
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Joined: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:37 am
Posts: 400
Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
Post 
T'Keela was curled in a shuddering heap in the pit of some absolute darkness when the mocking voices of his companions, his family and finally his enemies assaulted him, each one a stinging blow, as if there mocking laughter were physical blows. As their words stung him, a tiny shard of bitter, black hate forced itself into his heart and as it did so a warmth began to spread through his numb frozen limbs and the darkness seemed to creep back, the laughter began to fade and he became aware of the distant sounds of battle, though unfortunately for him they were much closer than they appeared to be.

The noble attempted to force his eyes open, though this achieved little more than a stinging blast of light and the onset of a rapid headache, instead he began trying to wiggle his toes and soon his fingers. A womanly cry was the next sound he heard, along with the dull thud against the stones of where ever his ravaged body was. Lenya... perhaps? The noble once again tried to open his eyes, though he was once again met with blinding pain. He was effectively crippled, he couldn't even crawl, let alone stand or even wield his sword. He let his quivering palm fall to his side where it came to rest upon the smooth wooden stock of the pistol he had looted from the body of the shade. A grin of one who had almost resigned himself to death was quickly splashed across his face, though amongst the blood and the deathly pallor of his skin, it resembled something utterly corpselike and inhuman.

T'Keela once again tried to force his frozen fingers to work, reaching for the pouch of bullets and powder next to his gun before reaching for the gun itself, his eyes locked on the dim silhouettes of the bodies that were before him... one of which seemed to glitter under the witchlight globes... Seemed Ghrond didn't go to plan after all."

T'Keela will attempt to use his last reserves of hatred for basically everyone to force his rather badly wounded body to load the pistol and then fire at the seemingly heavily armoured shape of what he hopes, for his own surivival at any rate, is not one of his companions. Though considering his current shape and the fact that he can barely open his eyes... here's to hoping everyone likes a game of Kislev Roulette.

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Wed Jul 20, 2011 12:36 am
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Executioner

Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
Posts: 152
Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor swore mentally as the Noble taunted them, he didn't want to waste his breath.

The Noble had two blades and you had to be as good with your left as you were with your right to pull that off.

His mind raced as he considered their options. They weren't doing well and T'Keela was out, and for some reason, Helkor wasn't sure which, he wasn't going to just leave T'Keela behind.

This Captain fights close up, so I need let him get close and then I'll get even closer within biting range where he can't use his weapons, it might not work but it'll buy us some time if. . . when we run.

Helkor glanced at Selkoreth, readied his shield, hefted the Bastard Sword he'd taken off Halketh's corpse his thick shield slamming out in an attempt to smash the Noble backward, Helkor grinned savagely and thrust from under his shield for the Noble's groin.

If nothing else, it'll make him jump. He thought wryly.

"Take him down!" He roared to Selkoreth.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Helkor will try to shield-slam the Noble and stab him in the groin so he can get close enough (within grappling range) so that the Noble can't use his weapons (what with having Helkor in his face and all) so that Selkoreth can kill him.

Failing that he'll run and stop to pick up T'Keela and follow Malthang.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Fri Jul 22, 2011 8:31 pm
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Trainee Warrior

Joined: Mon Jan 03, 2011 1:38 am
Posts: 33
Post 
OOC: Sorry, for the lack of detail in the previous post, but I didn't know what I wanted to do until after seeing the Captain's reaction to the threat. He could have been intimidated away, attacked alone, or most likely and infact sprung an ambush, made of various opponents coming from any number of angles. All of these would require different action on my part. I guess I'm just used to splitting these things up into more segments, as this is moving at a faster pace than the last forum rpg I tried. Not that that is a bad thing 8) , just take some getting used to.

IC: Selkoreth was entirely pleased with the prospect of a fight. He rushed forward with a slightly mad gleam in his eye, not even noticing the shades being ambushed for the moment.

The grin was quickly wiped off his face. The fight was going badly. Not was the captain skilled enough to dual wield swords effortlessly, but he almost instantly reacted to their every move. Getting within the guard of Helkor's bastard sword, disabling one opponent momentarily to avoid fighting two one one. For Khaine's sake, the arrogent bastard was toying with Selkoreth, showing how many times he could kill him. This made him Angry. So, he did what any large, angry druchii warrior does when he's pissed and on the ropes. He attacked. Rather than even trying to defend from the captain's non-lethal jibes, he put everything he could into the attack, yet again he was defeated as his opponent switched effortlessly to the defense, and evven foiled what should have been a deadly dual attack from the two warriors. After wards, it was only luck that saved them both from an inglorious end.

At this point it was clear to Selkoreth that this fight was too difficult to win under these conditions. This elf had obviosly earned his station as a captain, and he outmatched even both of them at once. So, he thought of the only thing a druchii in such a situation would: a deasperate gambit hopefully catching the opponent off guard, allowing you to, if not kill, at least disable them, allowing you to escape and get revenge later. In other words, a dirty trick. After all, this was the druchii way, a fight is not a dance, and you do what you have too. From his actions, Helkor was thinking along similar lines, and this gave him his queue.

As his companion made his attack shouting to take him out, Selkoreth dropped to a crouch, grasped his sword in two hand as best he could in spite of his shield, and spun in a 180 degree arc, straight at the captain's ankles and calves. As he did so, he snarled Take that you stuck up, self importent slave lover!, feeling no small amount of satisfaction as he did.

The force of such a blow couldn't be held off with a casual parry from the tip of a single blade, and anything more would hopefully leave him open to Helkor. Worst case senario as far as Selkoreth could see, the force of the two attacks from opposite directions would knock him down. whatever the result of the attack, afterwards Selkoreth will take off from the crouch like a sprinter toward the shades and T'Keela in an attempt to escape, or at least get some back up, hoping the other warrior took the cue. Besides, he couldn't well leave them behind when he still had so much use for them...

Selkoreth will strike at the back of the captain's legs in an attempt to either hamstring him, force him open to Helkor's attack, or at least knock him down. Afterwards he will take off as quickly as possible toward the Shades and T'Keela.

_________________
Name: Selkoreth Warpbane, warrior
Group 30
Stats: WS5 S5 T4 D2 I2
Equip: Longsword, Shield, Light Armor
Skills:


Mon Jul 25, 2011 1:02 am
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Executioner

Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
Posts: 156
Post 
Malthang swore as the Druchii warrior paced calmly towards him the broadsword crafting patterns in the air as the elf twisted and turned the blade. Knowing his crossbow would take too long to reload the shade slung it onto its loop on his belt with a casual ease born of a century of practice and drew his shortsword. The shade knew he was not the swordsman then warrior was and the weight of the broadsword alone would make parrying difficult but hopefully he could take the attackers attention long enough for someone else to do something useful.

If I can get him to face away from the two wounded elves then perhaps he could forget about them for just long enough for them to get into the fight, though judging by the fact that T'Keela doesn't seem to have moved for a long while I'm guessing my chances rest with Lenya.

Sword in hand Malthang went into a defensive stance, the point of the sword weaving a tight figure eight in front of him. Malthang's only advantage in this fight lay in speed and agility and he would have to use both to the best of his ability in order to come out of this still breathing and in one piece. As the swordsman closed the gap the shade exploded into action moving to his right with a feint before attempting a pirouette to his left to get beyond the swordsman and to the other side of the mountain of steel intent on taking his life.

At least if my companions miss their target I should have some protection. Malthang thought bitterly.

Malthang is attempting to wrong foot the warrior and put the elf between himself and his companions hopefully without being killed in the process!

_________________
Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Mon Jul 25, 2011 8:17 am
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Scourge
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
Posts: 656
Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
Post 
Senthask wove his broadsword in fluid patterns before him as he advanced upon the dark-haired shade. When he stepped within a pace of his broadsword’s great reach his smaller foe burst into action, making a dash to the lieutenant’s left. Senthask brought his mighty blade across in a glittering sweep from the right as he stepped into his attack, but the nimble shade had timed his feint well. Landing softly on the ball of his right foot, Malthang gracefully twirled around the hefty swing, dancing back to the lieutenant’s right. Senthask snarled from beneath his helm as his opponent fluttered around his swing like a leaf on the wind. Swiftly reversing his grip on his blade, the veteran warrior spun on his right foot, bringing his sword across in another broad slash to follow the shade’s dodge, his swing swifter but less powerful than the last attempt. Malthang was caught off guard by how quickly the warrior redirected his attack, as his feet touched the ground the shade sprang backwards again, bringing his own sword up in a two-handed vertical parry to guard himself.
The shock of impact was staggering, Ravensbane was hurled backwards several feet by the clash of blades, but thanks to his agility the shade landed lightly on the stones and swiftly rolled to his feet, his sword back on guard. The lieutenant had not dashed after him, instead he was casually advancing, grinding the point of his sword along the cobbles as he walked forwards like he had all the time in the world, and Malthang was terrified to see a sharp notch near the hilt of his own short-sword from where his blade had met the warrior’s, he was sure the lieutenant had only caught him with the very tip of the enormous broadsword, if so then what havoc would the meat of the blade wreak? Nevertheless, Malthang had succeeded in putting the warrior between himself and the rest of his companions, even if he had arrived at the point with a little more momentum than he had intended. The lieutenant continued at an unhurried pace, a mocking sneer lingering in the space between the cheek-guards of his helm. Then Malthang heard the hard crack of a gun firing. Senthask howled in pain and the shade felt something whizz past his ear and the displaced air ruffle his hair in passing. The warrior was grasping his right shoulder tightly with his left hand, blood oozing slowly from between his fingers, but after a moment, he resumed his advance, not even deigning to look over his shoulder at whoever had shot him. Focusing entirely on the prey he had already set his sights on with singular intensity.
Taking a steadying breath and grasping the hilt of his sword more tightly, Malthang set himself for the next exchange.
Blast it all T’Keela, now you’ve made him angry.

The captain smiled as he watched the two hunters formulate their plan, he could almost see the cogs and wheels turning in their mind, it was quite comical. Deciding he had given them enough leeway, the captain brought up his twin swords in a high-low guard and glided towards his adversaries like a snake slithering through the undergrowth. The two warriors shared a glance, and then charged forwards to meet him.
The captain smiled.
Selkoreth lunged in first, dropping low, he spun and put all of his weight behind a mighty cut at the back of his opponent’s knees which the captain contemptuously jumped above. Using both swords, the seasoned veteran smoothly bound and twisted aside the blade from Helkor aimed at his groin. But the shield was one attack too many. The captain was smashed backwards with thunderous force, but to the hunter pair’s astonishment he neatly rolled in the air and landed in a crouch several feet away as gently as an acrobat, despite his full armour. Straightening, the captain dusted himself off and then brought his swords back up into guard position.
“Not bad, shall we start again?”
“Mother of night,” cursed Helkor, “does nothing faze him?”
The bounty hunter glanced at his companion, but saw that Selkoreth had already taken off in the direction of their other companions, looking to make a swift exit.
Turning back to the immediate foe, he hesitated for a moment as he saw the captain’s grin grow wider.
“Here mousey, mousey,” whispered the captain mockingly.
“Bugger.”

Malthang ducked under another swing, feeling the blade ruffle his hair in its passing.
Far too many close calls thought the shade.
His riposte snaked out quickly and glanced off the breastplate a mere inch below the joint at the armpit, but Malthang had to dive aside again before he could follow up. T’Keela’s bullet didn’t seem to have slowed the hulking warrior in the slightest, and his blows came in a deceptive mix of fast and powerful which were the hallmarks of a good swordsman. Malthang turned aside another blow with a glancing parry from his sword which nevertheless jarred his hand and sent vibrations running along his length, rattling him like a dice in a cup, and the shade grimly noted the new dent in his all-but-ruined sword. The two continued to trade blows, and Ravensbane hissed in frustration as he realised he could make no headway, he could barely meet the warrior sword-to-sword with even the slightest of clashes and whenever he did he was immediately forced on the defensive, what blows he could dodge he did, and whenever he could he would lash out a harried strike which always bounced harmlessly from the warrior’s nigh-impenetrable armour. Malthang also realised that he had been manoeuvred round and was being backed towards his companions again, one was lying only a few feet behind him now, but Ravensbane could no longer tell who it was, having lost all track of his companions in his desperate fight for survival.
The lieutenant served up another bone-rattling sweep before lunging in, extending his right arm in a powerful thrust towards the shade’s midsection, Malthang hurled himself aside with all the strength he could muster, and as he dived he heard a sound which made his heart soar. The unmistakeable twang of a crossbow firing. Landing, Malthang immediately turned to see Lenya with her crossbow pointing directly at the lieutenant’s wounded shoulder. She had fired at point blank range, and her aim had unerringly found the hole in the lieutenant’s armour T’Keela had blasted earlier, but she had fired at a different (far more destructive) angle and her bolt’s trajectory took it scraping along and underneath the warrior’s collarbone before glancing off the spine and then exploding out the back of his armour in a shower of bone fragments, blood and viscera. The lieutenant stiffened, and then howled in rage and pain.
Grasping his mighty sword with both hands, he straightened and then turned, bringing his huge blade round in a massive cleaving sweep.
Time froze and Malthang’s elation turned to horror as he saw Lenya’s severed head fly into the air, a look of shock plastered across her features as her final expression.
All eyes turned to the macabre spectacle as, for a moment, the faintest glimmer of sunlight glittered off her beautiful black and red-streaked hair, shining like a halo.
The head landed with a heavy splat, and the lieutenant spat in the dirt as the female shade’s body collapsed onto the blood-soaked cobblestones, spasming in its death throes.
“Mother of Night.”

Well then, despite her brave efforts Lenya has perished at the hands of the lieutenant and T’Keela used up the last reserves of his strength to get off that one shot and is drifting in and out of consciousness again. Malthang, Helkor and Selkoreth, you all have a choice, you can cut your losses and run (fleeing through the alleys I mentioned in my last mod post), or stick around to fight. The lieutenant is standing only a few yards away from T’Keela and is between all of you and T’Keela, you could try and barge past the lieutenant to get to T’Keela but even so you would not be able to outrun the captain whilst carrying an unconscious warrior and would swiftly be caught. The lieutenant is badly wounded but is still capable of fighting (and likely overpowering any one of you) and the captain is still hot on Helkor and Selkoreth’s heels, he still hasn’t displayed the full extent of his abilities yet. You are all tired but no more wounded than before, Malthang your short sword is badly damaged, its blade is dulled and deeply notched, it is therefore at -1 strength and is brittle, meaning that if you put it through a lot of strenuous activity it could break, this will last until you get it repaired. You can get it repaired at a blacksmith, its condition will only worsen through use, the more you use it the more likely it is to break. Discuss and make your decisions on what actions you take, Deadline is Monday (Do people prefer the Monday deadline? I’m experimenting at the moment with different deadlines)

OC: I went to a wedding over the weekend and on the (long) journey there and back I started writing up the new poisons and medicines system, hopefully as long as I get the time I can finish the system off sometime in the next several weeks.

_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Tue Jul 26, 2011 12:01 am
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Executioner

Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
Posts: 152
Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
Post 
OOC: Hmm, we're in a tight spot aren't we?

I think that one of us is going to have to stay behind and delay the Captains long enough for the rest of the party to get out down the alley.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Tue Jul 26, 2011 5:54 pm
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Noble
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Joined: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:37 am
Posts: 400
Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
Post 
OOC: T'Keela will die unhappily enough, not that I am looking to leave the group at all :D.

IC: Letting out a gasp of pain as the heavy recoil from his gunpowder weapon shot through his arm and rattled his already badly damaged body, T'Keela began sliding back into unconciousness, knowing that he and his companions were dead when he saw that his shot had not even phased the hulking warrior. He blacked out and the last thing he saw was Lenya's head spinning through the air...

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Sun Jul 31, 2011 3:19 am
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Executioner

Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
Posts: 152
Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
Post 
OOC: Sorry about taking so long to reply :oops: , I got sidetracked, won't happen again.

IC:


Oh, God, we're royally screwed. Thought Helkor as the Captain effortlessly evaded all their attacks and when Helkor managed to slam the man to the ground with his shield he simply rolled back to his feet.

Helkor began to feel a certain sinking feeling and he had an idea that the events surround Varranaithe and the explosion were connected.

And then there was a roar and Helkor saw the Captain's companion grunt as he was hit by a pistol ball from T'Keela and then he saw the man roar in pain as Lenya shot him with her crossbow.

The man should have died then and there, Helkor had seen it enough times to know, but he simply shrugged it off like it was a scratch and then with a sweep of his blade sent Lenya's head flying through the air in a spray of blood, her corpse collapsed and Helkor could her wide eyes and see her mouth still twitching before she died.

"What are you?" He snarled at the Captain.

And then he feinted a thrust at the Captain before he quickly turned and ran at the Captain's Lieutenant. While he looked very capable of fighting Helkor figured his odds were better against the wounded one, it was the Druchii way after all.

He slammed his shield at the wounded Lieutenant and screamed at Selkoreth.

"Get T'Keela and run!"

OOC: My plan is to try and delay the two baddies long enough for everyone else to get away and then run down the alley just as fast as I can.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Sun Jul 31, 2011 2:47 pm
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