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Executioner

Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
Posts: 156
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Malthang sat back revelling in T'Keela's discomfort at a potent combination of having been healed by the shade and the use of Amalii's potent, if erratic, sorcery in the process. The kaffe was passable but considering the general level of competency thus far shown by the sorcerer Malthang was suspicious but figured there are far better ways for the little man to kill him. He mulled over the information the warrior had brought back from the city. He had seen the Khainite in action several times but the shade had his doubts that even he could have managed to escape such a situation as that which had developed at the coven. The smug bastard will probably be sat on a tree stump in the forest sipping some nettle tea all the same. the shade thought with a wry smile. If anyone was capable of escaping a host of angry sorceresses, guards, soldiers and the general citizenry of the city it was Sirruleathe.

Malthang half heard Helkor's plan, interrupting his reverie.

"Either way I doubt we will be able to leave tonight. T'Keela will end up out of breath at the slightest exertion and by the time we reach the gates they will likely be closed. If possible we should leave by different paths to reduce suspicion as well as different times. They are likely to have descriptions of us and our distinctive features." The shade motioned to his own facial tattoo. "As an Autarii I can probably get away with a mask, to you city dwellers we all look alike anyway. However, you may need more than a cloak to disguise your own identities. I leave such preparations to yourselves, however. Amalii, another cup of kaffe if I may. I'll keep a watch for a few hours just in case. I'll wake which ever one of you has snored the loudest for the second shift."

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Fri Sep 09, 2011 9:15 am
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Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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OOC: Thanks for waiting, sorry for delay.

IC: Looking uncomfortably at the shape of Amalii while scratching the itching scars that now decorated his chest, T'Keela listened vaguely to the conversations that were going on around him, "I bet the would is infected, especially if that shadow crap has been used in my "healing, which wouldn't surprise me." Whispered the exile to himself.

"Malthang is right." T'Keela quivered and paled, looking as if he was about to be sick at the thought of agreeing with the Autarii, "However I think a fight out of the city will be necessary regardless of our preparations." He paused before continuing, thoughtfully stroking his patrician chin before continuing, "Vauvalka, are there sewers that lead out of the city?" He looked at each of his companions in turn, I'd much rather risk the creatures that have been invariably spawn under the tower, then deal with a city of angry sorceresses and the guard."

Coughing, T'Keela stood, turned on his heel and went and found a corner to sleep in...

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T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
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Sat Sep 10, 2011 1:00 am
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
Posts: 656
Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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“Hmmm,” muttered Amalii as he paced around the room, stroking the chin of his mask thoughtfully with one hand and snapping the fingers of the other in a way that produced a small flash of rainbow-coloured flames with each distinctive click.
“Hm, hm, hm-hm, hum, hmmmmm.”
T’Keela looked like a blood vessel was going to burst. The mage was gnawing away at his patience like a particularly fat rat gnaws at a piece of bone.
“AHA!” Cried the mage as he came to a stop behind Selkoreth, making the warrior jump.
“‘Aha’ what? Mage,” drawled Malthang, sounding extremely bored.
“I have the solution, the answer to your question,” giggled the mage excitedly.
“And?” asked T’Keela, leaning forward expectantly.
“No,” replied the mage simply.
“No what?”
“No is the answer to the question.”
“Which question? Is there another way to get outside the walls?”
“Yes.”
“There is?” asked Malthang, his interest piqued.
“No, there isn’t.”
“Then why did you say yes for the dark mother’s sake?” growled Helkor.
“Because he asked which question, yes that is the question I am answering, no is the answer.”
Amalii giggled again.
“You mean to tell me that, for the best part of the last two hours, you have been mumbling, muttering, shuffling around and at random intervals setting fire to the various pieces of what passes for furniture in this misbegotten conglomeration of rubbish and wildly mutated semi-sentient creatures you call a home, just to come up with ‘no’,” said T’Keela in a calm voice, the sort of forced calm which implied the exiled noble may just stride across the room and rip out the sorcerer’s tongue with a pair of tweezers if he didn’t hear the answer he wanted.
“Yes!” cheered Amalii happily, as if congratulating a pet on learning a particularly difficult new trick.
T’Keela looked around for a set of tweezers.
“Why couldn’t you have just told us that to begin with?” Asked Malthang wearily.
“Well, I wanted to build up the suspense,” Amalii said sheepishly. Meanwhile, T’Keela had given up on the tweezers and instead settled for a butter knife on the nearby plate of biscuits. After a moment’s hesitation, the warrior groaned in frustration and hurled the knife towards the ball of slime near the door. The metal blade hit the, well, the ‘thing’, for want of a better and more accurate classification, with a dull ‘shlop’, T’Keela watched in horror as the ball of slime simply ingested the knife and dissolved it into nothingness within seconds, then bounced up and down happily in a manner reminiscent of a fat hamster that’s been fed sugar pills.
“So the only way out is through the gate?” questioned Selkoreth, a resigned look on his face.
“Um-hum,” said Amalii, nodding his head. “Ghrond is a fortress built so that intruders can’t sneak in through sewers and the like, the only entrances and exits to the city other than the gate are closely guarded escape-tunnels in the Drachau’s fortress, it would be impossible to break in there.”
“That’s great, just great,” muttered T’Keela, sinking back into his chair.



“Amalii, is this chair trying to eat me?”
“Ooh, it only does that to people it really likes!” Squealed the sorcerer with delight.
“More friends, just what I needed.”

There we go folks! Amalii knows of no other ways out of the city, you have spent the night at his ‘home’ though I’m not sure how much sleep you will have got with the furnishings striking up conversations, trying to consume you and generally attempting to be friendly, in their own way. So where do you go from here?
Deadline is Friday.


OOC: A friend has encouraged me (Ok, it was outright blackmail, she’s very persuasive) to join facebook so if anyone wants to look me up and add me as a friend then feel free, I’m Nathan Gull and this link should (although I may have screwed it up) take you straight to my wall when you’re logged in: Link

_________________
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.


Sun Sep 11, 2011 9:11 pm
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor had spent the night in an empty corner with his sword in hand listening to the 'inhabitants' and the furniture of Amalii's home move around and converse. His aching bladder hand't helped either, any plans he might have had of relieving himself vanished when he considered what might await him in Amalii's bathroom.

Needless to say by first light he was in a foul mood and everything, especially old injuries hurt. He swore under his breath and dropped to the floor, making sure this part of it was a plain old floor, and began push-ups which were followed by sit-ups when he'd worked up a good sweat he stood, stretched and began practicing with his sword, shield and the newly aqquired Bastard Sword he'd taken off the Captain's corpse it was a little lighter than he was used so it took some work before he managed to adjust so his attacks and defenses were under control instead of coming to quickly.

He found a good spot over a doorway and began pulling himself up.

He dropped silently to the floor and dried off with a corner from his cloak. "Not to shabby." He said to himself.

Helkor donned his armour, adjusted his gear and pulled his cloak around his weathered frame before he stepped outside with a cup of Kaffe as the first rays of pale gray light began creeping over the cold stone walls.

He sipped slowly and then his good vanished as those rebellious thought wormed through his mind. Who are you, Helkor Makolus? Why are you here? Is there any point to your life?

He sighed and watched as the sun began to rise and it seemed like it was fighting to poke through the ashen clouds that always hung over the land of chill. But this time he couldn't seem to get those thoughts to go away by ignoring them like he usually did. What do you want?

He bowed his helmeted head and tried to come up with an answer but try as he might he just couldn't seem to define what exactly he was looking for or why.

"Face it old Friend." He said and his breath puffed out white clouds. "You're not getting any younger, elves live a long, long time but now it seems like you're shorter of breath than you used to be, your bones ache, the younger fighters move faster than they used to, beds are harder, nights are colder, . . . And lonely what's more. That's not what you wanted and the funny thing is you don't know what you want."

He sipped the last of his kaffe and dug in his belt for makings. "Your life's empty Helkor Makolus and that's all you've ever known."

He sighed and thought about happier times, back when he'd been a child. And smiled grimly, there weren't any he could remember, their had been one struggle after the other and at the best of times they'd been living on the edge.

But your Father loved all of you and so did your Mother and they didn't hesitate to show it, which is more than can be said for how your life is now. Helkor didn't argue with truth and so he just finished his Kaffe, gathered up his courage and walked back inside.

"Morning all. . . I'd say it's time to get moving." He started to sit and thought the better of it.

"I say we pose as mercenaries, hired to escort someone, someone important who got skittish after the events last night and decided to leave Ghrond for a relative's home or something. . . Shame Lenya got herself killed, it would help if we had a woman to be the person we're escorting." He turned to Amalii and summoned up his patience. "I don't suppose you could do anything to sneak us through, Master Mage?"

OOC: Helkor will try and sneak through the Gate as someone important's hired sword and if Amalii has anything useful to help them he will utilize that too.

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


Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:34 pm
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Executioner

Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
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Malthang grinned in spite of himself as T'Keela was being gently masticated by the furnishings. He finished his kaffe and set the mug down on what he assumed to be the most sturdy and inanimate of the pieces of furniture. He settled himself in for his watch. After a few hours he poked one of his companions awake without really noticing who and settled himself down.

He woke early, as he always did, his mind and body still honed to his life in the wilderness, and watched through half lidded eyes as Helkor woke in his turn and stepped outside. One of the marks of being a true hunter is observation he thought, his interest piqued as the warrior stepped outside into the dawn air. He returned soon enough, his speech rousing the others.

"A good plan warrior. Not great but the best we have and if we linger longer we shall have more pressing issues than T'Keela's acting talents to oppose our passing through the gates" the shade favoured the noble with a wry half smile. "I can pass as a scout, Helkor, Selkorath and T'Keela as bodyguards. Though what would we be able to pass you off as..." the shade mused, fixing Amalii with his cold, penetrating gaze. "Any suggestions?"

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:48 pm
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“What would we be able to pass you off as?" Wondered the shade as he gave Amalii a penetrating stare.
“A circus animal?” Suggested Selkoreth.
“Too bad we can’t send him back,” muttered T’Keela.
Amalii clapped his hands gleefully, his eyes glimmering inside the holes of his mask, “Oh I do so love the circus!” He cried, “Especially clowns, oh what artistry they have.”
“Sorry mage, you haven’t got the feet for it,” said Helkor with mock regret, placing a hand on the vauvalka’s shoulder. The warrior’s face turned a faint shade of green and he swiftly withdrew the hand, furiously trying to wipe it clean on his cloak.
“Can we get a move on?” asked Malthang wearily, a look of contempt plastered across his features, “Every moment I waste with you caterwauling fools is another moment my prey has to escape.”
“Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud, master shadow,” scowled Amalii with the sulky tones of a spoilt child, but the rest of the hunter band seemed to be of much the same mind and swiftly filed out of the sorcerer’s home, the door sighing shut (of it’s own accord) behind them. The hunters set off into the streets of Ghrond once more, leaving behind a tumbledown shack swiftly swallowed by the shadows, with a small blob of goo waving forlornly from the window at their retreating backs.

The city was quiet. As the group passed through the narrow alleys, broadening out into progressively wider yet no less oppressive streets, they saw barely a soul out of doors. The streets were still slick with the remnants of the blood rain that had fallen the day before, the cobbles stained red with gore an uncomfortable reminder of the nightmarish events that had happened, their quarry being possessed by a daemon, the convent half destroyed, the entire band coming within a whisker of being slaughtered to the last elf. Lenya’s head rolling in a sea of blood. It felt like an age had passed since they had bid farewell to Sirulleathe and marched on the warehouse, confident that they had cornered their prey and would be safely on the road towards a big payday, yet less than a day had passed. As they marched on in silence, eyes turned to the tower of sorceresses, looming over the city still, but not quite as tall as it once had, thick streamers of black smoke twirling lazily into the sky. The air was heavy with tension, the entire city felt like it was being smothered under a blanket, great sheets of obsidian clouds rolled overhead turning the morning into midnight. Each sharp edge of building, street and square was thrown into sharp relief in the stifling darkness. It felt like being drowned, sucked under inky black waves, floating into the currents of oblivion.
Malthang shook his head and tried to clear his mind of the cloying fog, but nothing eased the great weight that pressed down on him, he walked through air thicker than syrup, each step a struggle, the atmosphere was wave after wave of crushing despair and terror. Was this what chaos’ taint felt like? Was this what waited on the other side of the veil? Was this what Lenya was feeling in the cold clutches of the abyss? The shade tried to purge his mind of such thoughts, but they followed him like a pack of wolves scenting flesh, dogging him, circling, creeping up on him.
Each of the four hunters were locked in their own private hell, brooding. Helkor was the first to free himself, setting his jaw, he strode on purposefully, ignoring the withering doubts that plagued him with a force of will that would brook no defiance from any corner of his psyche. And with each step, his burden grew lighter, the heavy feeling sloughed away like dead skin and, one by one, the other hunters followed his lead.

Giving the centre of the city a wide berth, the hunters took a long and circuitous route to the gate, they arrived at midday to find a whole company of guards standing sentry at the opening to the tunnel that led through the thick outer wall to the northern plains. They looked uneasy, nervous, and on edge. The hunter band arrived just as a harried looking messenger was being sent through, hastily stuffing documents back into his satchel and wiping off the cold sweat that clung to his brow despite the chill of the Northern morning. The captain of the guard eyed the group warily as they stepped up, affecting an air of importance that hung off him like a set of ill-fitting clothes.
“State your name and business,” he barked gruffly, trying to cover the uncertain tremor in his voice with bluster. His hand was on the pommel of his sword, 30 of his underlings stood with spears at the ready.
Each one looked haunted by old ghosts, and pasts they thought they had long since forgotten.

The tang of sorcery is in the air. What will you do? What are you going to say to get past the guards?
Deadline is next Friday night.


_________________
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.


Sun Sep 18, 2011 10:41 pm
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Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
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OOC- sorry it's late, been one hell of a week!

Malthang stepped up to the guard captain, maintaining a 3 sword length distance between himself and the elf. His sharp eyes flickered across the assorted guards, noting the way they stood uneasy and suspicious. The captains bluster would have been amusing if it didn't look as though his guards were a small step away from killing first and asking questions later... If at all. He returned his gaze to the captain, ensuring to keep it level and unthreatening. My name is Dreagor, a scout and wilderness guide. This man" the shade pointed at Amalii and hoped he had the presence of mind to play along, "is a healer of sorts and requires ingredients having had to use up several of his more potent items in the chaos of recent times. I am leading him through the undergrowth to find what he looks for. The soldiers are sellswords he hired to ensure he comes to no harm. I would appreciate it if you let us pass."

Malthang hoped it was enough, either way, they were about to find out...

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Sun Sep 25, 2011 9:04 pm
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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The guard captain gave the hunters a brief once over, his hands creeping towards the hilts of the paired swords on either hip, the guards noticed their captain’s reaction and gripped their spears tighter, tensing like wounded animals backed up against a wall. The bounty hunters remained as still as stone, hoping not to provoke a reaction, Malthang watched the guard captain carefully, willing his eyes not to betray the lie they were trying to feed him.
“Dreagor,” muttered the guard captain, his voice thick with suspicion, “I’m not familiar with any scouts by that name.”
A few of the guards lowered their spears and began to edge forward. The air was thick with tension, the brittle sort that felt like it might shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment.
Malthang ground his teeth and forced his hand not to creep towards where his own weapons were concealed, knowing the band would have to talk their way out of this one if they were to escape with their hides,
“No my lord, I was accompanying a master into the city last time I passed this way and neither gave nor was asked to give my name, the master is despatching the novices on lesser tasks whilst he and his brethren set all their focus on discovering the culprits of the massacre at the convent.”
The guard captain still did not look convinced, a few more of his men inched forwards, the tips of their spears twitching like a slave on a torture rack. Their captain finally gave up on trying to break Malthang’s iron-hard stare and turned his attention to the rest of the party, his gaze first falling upon the so-called ‘healer’.
Amalii blinked once. Slowly.
The guard captain’s head drooped an inch and his shoulders sagged slightly, for the briefest moment Malthang glimpsed the captain’s eyes when he raised his head again, a fog swirled in their depths black as midnight, clouds sucked through gateways into the soul to mist over the elf’s mind with darkness and confusion.
The captain blinked, the shadows vanished. Relaxing, he stepped aside and waved them through.
“Let them pass,” he ordered.
The other guards looked uncertain for a moment, but were glad enough to be rid of a possible confrontation and soon shuffled aside. The hunter band strode through the gate, trying not to betray themselves with hurried footsteps or relieved sighs, only when they were twenty yards down the road did Malthang finally release a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.
“I’m glad to be free of that place,” rumbled Selkoreth, Helkor nodded wearily in agreement.
Malthang gave Amalii a cool look, “I wonder who taught you that trick, master mage.”
The vauvalka giggled quietly, his eyes dancing with mischief.
The band strode on, finally free of the black city. The hounds were on the hunt again, ears to the ground and noses to the wind, searching for haunted footsteps, and the tainted blood of their prey.

Right then, I waited to see if anyone else other than Varaken was going to make an appearance, thinking you may all have thought I’d meant Friday 30th as the deadline date, but since nobody else has posted I will put the mod post up. So what now? You have escaped from Ghrond. Huzzah! Your prey is possessed, so he will find it difficult to find sanctuary now, how badly is he tainted? Can he hide it? If he got out of the city without incident (and there hasn’t been an uproar from a possessed elf trying to fight its way through the gates) then perhaps he can keep the demon’s mark under his skin. Where will he go? Where will you go? What’s your next step?
Deadline is Friday 14th October


OOC: Dresden I haven’t forgotten Selkoreth wanted to go on a shopping trip but the incident at the convent, and with the guard prowling around looking for anyone out of place, would make the trip extremely dangerous and all the shops would likely be shut anyway, so I assume you would rather put off the shopping trip until you next have some spare time in a city rather than wandering around looking at closed shops waiting for the guard to scoop you up.

_________________
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 Oct 03, 2011 7:57 pm
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Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
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Malthang continued to eye Amalii warily. This one is more powerful than he seems... he thought to himself, a slight shiver running down his spine. Not that he would ever show such weakness in front of the other hunters. Still, they were out of that hell hole. Autarii dislike cities at the best of times but ones where you are being hunted, shot at, slashed at, almost arrested and then showered in blood due to the destruction of one of the most potent magical locations known to elf kind definitely ranked above average in the list of places a shade would rather not be. He was more than a little glad to be out of the confines and out in the wider world again. They were late for their meeting with Sirulleathe so who knew if the Khanite was still waiting for them. Only one way to find out I guess.

"We should head for the meeting point arranged with Sirulleathe. We have no idea if he's still waiting for us but he is a most useful companion, it would hardly do to leave without looking for him. Besides unless you want to eat whatever Amalii can conjure up, no offence intended sorcerer, then it would do to have a second hunter with us. Unless you think you can bring down some quarry by throwing your sword at it T'Keela?" the shade gave the highborn a mocking grin. "Either way, we should make for the trees. Once we are out of sight of the walls we can work out our next move. Our quarry is unlikely to be welcomed with open arms to many of the more civilised places of the world. My guess is that he will have headed north, whether through choice or due to the impulses of the daemon bound within his flesh. But first I need the feeling of the forest in my blood again."

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Wed Oct 05, 2011 8:46 am
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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OOC: Guys, I'm really sorry, I don'r know what happened but I stopped getting notices everytime someone replied. But I'm still in.

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


Fri Oct 07, 2011 1:59 pm
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor grinned sourly. "Malthang, for once I have to agree with you. . . and I think I'm going to puke because of it."

He turned to the others and adjusted the strap of his Helm. "Well. . . as much as it pains me to say it, I suppose we should follow Master Malthang," he shrugged and his smile brightened a little, "that way if we encounter anything nasty he'll be the first to know."

He turned, shouldered his pack and shrugged to settle like countless soldiers before him and countless more to come. "We can make armour that'll fit a man like a glove and that's so light he won't notice, our Sorcerers can make the very ground shake and people have figured out how to fly Dragons, but no one's figured out how to make a decent pack." He grumbled to Selkoreth.

He thought about bowing mockingly and making another joke but for reasons he couldn't define, perhaps he'd aqquired a grudging respect for Malthang.

He grabbed a strap of his pack and started walking. The nagging doubts that had been plaguing him had left for a while, they were on the trail and they'd escaped from Ghrond. He began humming an old marching song that had been popular back in his Father's day. "She's got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories when everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky. . ." It was a proper soldier's song: Sentimental, and about a girl.

OOC: GNR is everywhere it would seem :shock: :lol:

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


Fri Oct 07, 2011 11:39 pm
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Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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The guard captain eyed each member of the group suspiciously, watching for any telling movements that would give him an even greater reason to suspect something was amiss. The tension amongst the group was almost palpable, T'Keela was glad for the cold, for he feared he would have sweated nervously. "Curse this weakness, and curse this ungodly cold." Murmured the Druchii to himself. When he looked up, the guard was speaking again and ushering them out the gates.

Starting to walk out the gates, T'Keela him halted himself, despite the sour taste it left on his tongue, for propriety dictated that an unfamiliar guard stand at least 3 sword lengths from his employee, in this case more of a childish burden. Glancing in the direction of his "liege", T'Keela momentarily halted his step and allowed the giggly old fool to skip past him, the bitter metallic taste of magic still hanging heavily in his throat.

With the wizard walking steadily before him, T'Keela looked over his shoulder and saw that the gates were starting to close and the guards were nowhere to be seen, though a hundred eyes could be felt piercing his back. As the trees coalesced, the group finally spoke, Malthang's mocking voice cutting through the cold air like sharpened steel. "Malthang, I would sooner throw my shield at your back," replied T'Keela, "Though I would hate to have to soil my hands with your blood. Although I do agree our intended course, even if I think you only feel the need to rut amongst the trees with the first animal you can find." Grinning like a fool, he trotted off towards the edge of the tree's, "Perhaps if you are so keen to be hugging a tree, you should follow me?

OOC: Sorry about the delay in posts, had an absolutely mad couple of weeks.

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


Mon Oct 10, 2011 4:44 pm
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Malthang allowed what passed for gratitude in the Druchii way of life pass without comment from Helkor though he had to snigger when he commented about the packs. Shades had long ago found sufficient ways to transport their goods while trekking through the forests, it was only because city dwellers insisted on taking so many unnecessary items that they found such bags uncomfortable. Alas, they would never learn. T'Keela's snide comment caused a sneer to spread across the shade's features.

Throw your shield if you like highborn but based on recent events you seem to get far more use out of that than you do your sword. Personally I'd be hanging on to it. The shade orientated himself, ensured that T'Keela was actually walking in the right direction to reach the agreed upon spot and started into the forest to find the errant Khanite.

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Tue Oct 11, 2011 12:59 pm
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Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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OOC: Um, my bad I mean't sword... I was kinda tired when I wrote this... =]

T'Keela grinned at the shade's retort and chuckled in spite of himself, "Aye, shade perhaps a shield would have served me better and would still serve me better at that," the noble made a point of raising his left hand and wiggling his fingers provokingly, "however it seems your "legendary shade awareness" has failed you, as I do not seem to recall ever bearing a shield since we met." Striding past the shade once again, he patted, what he hoped was soon to be an irrate Malthang on the back and whispered, Do not worry my... "friend", I'll be sure to hold my shield against your back should I ever claim one. Laughing quietly, so that it didn't hurt as much, the warrior continued walking towards the edge of the trees...

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


Wed Oct 12, 2011 9:04 am
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Malthang dregged deep into his self-control to avoid shooting T'Keela in the back as he strode away. Interesting how his mere touch could set his skin crawling and set off a bloom of rage in the shades guts. All the same the shade's face broke out into a grin. "You know T'Keela, you're actually right, my skills of observation were clearly lacking in this regard but considering that all you city born in your armour look pretty much identical I'm sure you'll forgive me. Not only that but your lack of a shield does go some way towards explaining why you seem to be so close to death after even the most minor of encounters. Perhaps you should find one? It might help to counteract a large part of your incompetence."

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Wed Oct 12, 2011 6:17 pm
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The tension in the air seemed to be not only palpable but to T'Keela almost palatable, the scorn and anger he was causing to the shade was amongst the sweetest of wines and delicate ambrosia. 'Aye shade perhaps it would serve to deliver me from my incompetence, but I would not want to inadvertently stop one of those lovely little bolts of yours from scoring a hit," mocked T'Keela, "at least should you ever decide to stop suckling the teat of whatever wild beast you call a mother and grow a pair." With this last statement, T'Keela turned back to face his rival and with a huge grin continued, "Might I also suggest not shooting me so close to the city? My pistol here, I am sure makes enough of a cacophony and pretty flashes to bring even that glamoured guard running," reasoned the noble, "t'would be a shame for our adventure to be over so soon after it just started again." As if to make his point known, T'keela drew his pistol and began deliberately loading it, taking undue care and attention in making sure the Autari knew he was not bluffing. "Oh and I believe I failed to mention my appreciation for a job well done on my chest."

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T'Keela Darkspine
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Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
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Thu Oct 13, 2011 1:51 am
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The hunters settled in around their campfire, drawn to the warmth as night settled on the forest like a blanket. It was unseasonably warm, almost cloying, the roiling clouds above still carpeted the sky and blocked out the light of stars and moon, leaving only the campfire as a beacon of light in the dismally dark clearing beneath the trees where the band had settled. Malthang was busy oiling his crossbow, Selkoreth and Helkor were speaking in undertones of daemons and the horrors of the North, T’Keela was honing the edge of his longsword and Amalii was amusing himself by turning the flames of the fire different colours and twisting it into various shapes, Ooohing and Aaahing and giggling quietly to himself as he played.

A shadow stepped out of the darkness, bathed first in blue, then in green and then in a rainbow motley of light from Amalii’s experiments, silently it moved up and sat beside Malthang, the shade looked up for a moment, then went back to his labours. After a few minutes T’Keela glanced up as well, and spoke thusly:
“Oh, you’re alive then?”
The shadow smiled, Amalii’s head whipped around like he’d been smacked as he sought out their visitor, his eyes narrowed for a moment as they settled upon their guest, Helkor and Selkoreth also glanced up with startled expressions as they noticed the figure that had appeared beside their fire.
“Yes, I am alive,” came Sirulleathe’s whispery voice, “or at least I appear to be,” he added with a ghost of a smile playing across his lips.
“You came upon us very stealthily,” said Amalii, his voice wary, “not many can sneak up on us like that.”
“I have some small skill in the art of stealth,” replied the Khainite quietly, his eyes studying the vauvalka cautiously. Amalii smiled and snapped his fingers, the fire roared into life, this time a brilliant golden colour, banishing the shadows that surrounded the Khainite like a fog.
Sirulleathe’s silver hair hung loose, flowing over his shoulders and down his back, his upper torso was bare, the ragged remains of his garment were drawn about his waist by a sash of midnight blue, the cloth down the legs rent and torn in places, stained the dark brown-red of dried blood. Across his chest his steel-grey skin was incised with deep gashes oozing blood, a thin cut ran down from the tip of his left shoulder to his right hip, too perfectly straight to have been made by any sword, and a mottled purple bruise ran up his right side and clawed across his back. His eyes glinted merrily in the light of the fire, but their usual amethyst colour was ringed by a faint band of bronze which was slowly receding like the ebb of the tides, and from their corners two ruby streaks slithered across his cheeks where he had cried tears of blood.
“Dragon’s below Sirulleathe, you look like someone hurled you through a wall of razor blades and off a cliff,” muttered T’Keela.
“There was a fair amount of fire involved too,” replied the Khainite matter-of-factly.
“What the hell happened?” asked Helkor, “I know you were going to make us a distraction but don’t you think blowing up the convent and half the sorceresses in it was a tad excessive?”
Sirulleathe smiled again, “Actually, I didn’t destroy the convent, I managed to reach my goal silently, only having to kill a few initiates on my way up and hide the bodies, I was on my way out when I ran into trouble, a sorceress stepped out of an alcove and spotted me, she threw a spell and it… backfired.”
“Backfired and blew away half the tower?”
“She may have overpowered it a smidgeon.”
“And how did you survive this?” Amalii asked, his voice childishly curious, but his eyes were cold as iron.
“Khaine protects his servants, that may have contributed slightly to the spell going awry,” Sirulleathe answered, meeting the sorcerer’s gaze unflinchingly.
“May?” chuckled T’Keela.
“Anyway, how did your hunt go? Where is Varranaithe’s head?”
There was an awkward silence.

“Possessed? That could make things difficult,” muttered Sirulleathe after the other hunters had finished narrating their tale.
“Yeah, and now the abomination has fled,” rumbled Selkoreth.
“Well then, Where do we go from here?”

You heard him, where do you go? What is your next move? Sirulleathe has rejoined the group, he’s a bit battered and bruised but otherwise none the worse for wear. Deadline is Friday 21st October.

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


Sat Oct 15, 2011 9:07 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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“Well then, Where do we go from here?”

Helkor frowned and considered their next move. "I'm no Shade but I've hunted before and I think that our quarry will will do of two things:

"He will either go east into the Spiteful Peaks or west into the Iron Mountains, he won't dare go south, that will take him to close to Naggarond and it is said that the King. If he heads into the Spiteful Peaks that will only take him west where more of our cities lie."


Helkor took a long pull from his flask and passed it to the Sillureathe. "Because he's possessed he will most likely want to go back to be among other Daemons."

Helkor paused as he remembered leaping forms that were just to. . . different, seeing shield-mates scream in agony as their bodies were torn apart or sobbing and clutching at the raw hunks of flesh where eyes and limbs had been or the ones that stared into the distance and couldn't be brought back from whatever place their minds had gone.

The sound of blades and worse tearing through flesh and bone, the sound of gore and chunks of meat falling to mud and snow, how theirs formations were hit by swarm after swarm of daemons like waves crashing against the jagged rocks on Naggaroth's frigid coasts.

He shook himself out of it, they're dead and you're alive. "So It'll probably head for the Iron Mountains, from there he can hide and head north to the Ironfrost Glacier and the Chaos Wastes, among other Daemons he'll be part of a great threat to our land, while he's in still in Naggaroth he's isolated and cut off from help because of what he is.

"I say that we make a few discreet inquiries up and down the road so to speak and if the trail leads into the Iron Mountains we follow it."

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


Sun Oct 16, 2011 9:45 pm
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Post 
The shade was the first to notice the Khainite's reappearance, not that that was particularly surprising with the attention spans of these city dwellers. Seeing the bedraggled and bloodied warrior take a seat next to him the shade returned to oiling and working the mechanism of his crossbow, ensuring that the weapon was in perfect working order, just as he liked to keep it. Eventually the rest of the party noticed and conversation began and the group managed to give a brief account of the hunt so far.

"Our quarry has a considerable head start on us, especially if he has managed to obtain a mount from someone. My thinking is similar to your own Helkor, as I believe I mentioned back in the city, he will head north. He has little other choice. While he might be able to control himself long enough to stay in a city for a while, he is a rash and impulsive individual as his retaliation on us in the alley shows. He will slip up and reveal himself eventually and he can't afford to do that in a city. However, he is also cunning. He might try to hide out, wait for us to pass by then ambush us. Among many other possible scenarios. All the same, have to move somewhere, might as well be as you suggest warrior. Before we go, want me to look at your wounds Khainite or are you quite capable?"

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Sat Oct 22, 2011 9:14 pm
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“My suffering gives me strength,” whispered Sirulleathe in reply to Malthang’s offer of assistance, the shade shrugged and then set about making up his bedroll, the rest of the hunters also seeing to getting a few hours sleep before heading off.

The dawn broke fresh and crisp, well, not so much crisp as bitterly cold, Naggaroth’s climate taking vengeance on the strange weather patterns that had usurped its control the past day. The tang of magic had mostly dissipated overnight and with it had disappeared the strange after effects from the explosion of sorcerous energy. The band had already broken camp an hour before and were making good headway along the barren ice plains surrounding Ghrond, following a road heavily worn from the use of marching columns heading North to the Western-most of the border forts on the frontier of the chaos wastes. For the next half hour they walked in silence, without so much as a scout party chancing by, although that was hardly unusual as the marauders and beastmen of the wastes rarely raided at this time of year. At last they turned off the road, heading into the foothills with the looming peaks of the iron mountains towering above them in the distance like knives thrusting into the sky, as the morning crawled on the temperature dropped even further until cloaks became so stiff that you could put an edge on one and call it a sword, and the metal armour of the warriors would take the skin off anyone foolish enough to touch it. Eventually Amalii snapped his fingers and conjured up a small candle of flame to ward off some of the chill and the other hunters gathered closer to warm their cold-blooded hearts, all except for Sirulleathe who stood apart from the group, the air around him now even colder than before the mage had lit his fire as if he’d put a wall between himself and the vauvalka’s magics.
“So much for chancing on a clue along the road,” muttered T’Keela, “We could wander in the iron mountains for years and never find him, if he went this way at all.”
“What about you shade?” rumbled Selkoreth, “Can that wildling nose of yours sniff out a trail?”
Malthang favoured the towering warrior with one of his best glares of scathing disdain.
“I’m not some bloody dog, city-dweller, if there had been some snow or similar last night then I might be able to find something. In the forests, were we closer to him, I could pick his trail up, but on these accursed plains there’s no trace left after the wind has scoured everything clean.”
“Shall we just wander aimlessly and hope we get very, very lucky then?” drawled T’Keela in his sarcastic voice.
“A rider.”
All eyes turned to Amalii.
“Look,” said the sorcerer, gesturing back towards the road they had been travelling earlier, and indeed in the distance, so far behind them as to be almost beyond sight, there was a speck on the horizon.
“At last,” sighed Helkor as he turned around and started back towards the road, “a lead.”
“Wait,” snapped Malthang, straining his eyes to make out who was approaching, “a lone rider, on a cold one? It can't be Varranaithe, and how many officers travel Naggaroth without a retinue?”
“What else can those eagle-eyes of yours see, shade?”
“Well armoured, like a noble, the cold one is enormous and also in plate, he rides with bared steel, a sword, must be made of some form of meteoric iron to be that colour, as black as pitch, and he’s waving it about like a dowsing rod.”
At that moment Sirulleathe stiffened and hissed through clenched teeth.
“I smell sorcery.”
“Oh,” said Selkoreth with a sneer, “So you’re the dog then.”

Right, you’re in the foothills of the Iron Mountains West of Ghrond, you haven’t found a trace of Varranaithe so far. The lone rider is still a way off travelling down the road you left a short time ago, what will you do? Go out to meet him? Follow Him? Hide? Ignore him? What is your next move?
Deadline is Friday 4th of November

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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 Oct 24, 2011 8:39 pm
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The cold air had whipped and cut through each of them, and it's incessant and non-relenting nature had soured everyone's spirits. Even the normally murderous banter between Malthang had managed to take a rather cold, chilling and altogether more serious tang. Just because they had been born to the cold, didn't mean they had to like it and as if to prove this, Amalii's conjured flame had only made their disdain for the cold even more apparent. Amongst the hushed whispers and angry retorts, the squeak of Amalii managed to break everyone out of whatever argument they were in or close to starting. And to be sure enough the little wizard was right, barely a speck on the distance, a rider could be seen, although at this point it may as well be Malekith and Seraphon for all they could tell.

As the black speck began to take shape, to Malthang's eyes at least, Sirulleathe's talent or more correctly hatred of the arcane was made evident, when he detected the trace of sorcery. T'Keela grumbled to himself about the misfortune and lack of luck the group seemed to have. "Why can we not ever have an easy time, it seems to be just one fight after another and constantly with stupid wizards," he continued, "Sirulleathe, I am beginning to understand your predisposition for sorcery." No one else seemed to be able to come to a decision about who or what was riding towards them or what their next move was. However, T'Keela couldn't shake the feeling that a lone warrior with acold one and magic was not something the group could stand up to on a good day, let alone after the events in Ghrond. Might I suggest we take cover and see whom and what manner of fiend it is that rides behind us? Malthang perhaps you could take a covering position ahead, and give us an early warning. Myself and Selkoreth can hide and ambush if need be. Sirulleathe can do what he does best and Amalii, try not to make too much noise. Unless we get attacked, feel free to blow as many things up as you want then."

T'Keela will see if there are any objections to his plan and from there it is in the gods hands...

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


Mon Oct 24, 2011 11:26 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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IC: Helkor Makolus

Helkor had spread his cloak under a barren bush and rolled himself up in his cloak before he fell into a fitful sleep. When he awoke he stood, rubbed the grit from his eyes and grunted with pleasure as a bitterly cold gust slammed into him.

"Ah, that's the stuff." He grinned cheerfully, shook Selkoreth awake and shouldered his ruck. After they broke camp and continued down the road he walked easily letting his mind wander and taking in the harsh majesty of the iron mountains. Seeing their forbidding peaks always cheered his soul.

They turned off the road and continued across the windswept ice plains to the foothills, it became colder and the cloudy sky, always dark, turned the color of flint.

Frost began to form on their armour and their clothing crackled with each movement and all the while the brutally cold wind howled across the plain, ruffling their hair and kicking up minature tornadoes of ice and sleet.

Helkor's grin widened and he began humming another old marching song and for a while the nagging doubts and worries let him be. Nonethless he was grateful the strange little Mage's flame. He thought of patting Amalli on the shoulder and decided that probably wasn't a good idea.

"My Thanks, Mage."

He grinned slightly as Malthang snapped at Selkoreth and then whirled as Amalli pointed out a Rider on the road they had left.

"At last," he sighed, "a lead." After all it couldn't be coincidence that this rider just happened to be traveling the same way they were.

“Wait,” snapped Malthang, straining his eyes to make out who was approaching, “a lone rider, on a cold one? It can't be Varranaithe, and how many officers travel Naggaroth without a retinue?”
“What else can those eagle-eyes of yours see, shade?”
“Well armoured, like a noble, the cold one is enormous and also in plate, he rides with bared steel, a sword, must be made of some form of meteoric iron to be that colour, as black as pitch, and he’s waving it about like a dowsing rod.”


"Waving it like a dowsing rod, eh?" Helkor raised an eyebrow and his grin widened as Sillureathe said that he smelled sorcery. He felt a familiar thrill and chuckled slightly. "I didn't think this day could get any better, joining up with you all might be the best decision of my life. I haven't had this much fun in years."

He turned to Selkoreth and clapped him on the shoulder with a gloved hand."Wouldn't you say?"

He listened to T'Keela's plan and shrugged. "By all means, good Noble."

OOC: Helkor will go along with T'Keela's plan.

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


Tue Oct 25, 2011 1:06 am
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Post 
Malthang listened to T'Keela's plans unfolding, mulling over the details. The group were at a significant disadvantage. The nauglir alone could rip their entire little band apart without so much as blinking, add to that the heavily armed and armoured warrior on the beasts back and the scent of sorcery and it added up to being a more than unpleasant situation to be in. However, that being said there was little they could do, based on the fact that the warrior was waving his sword around like a crazed Bloodletter it is probably a fair assumption to make that he had spotted them and even if he hadn't once he got within 400 yards the nauglir would pick up their scent and then it would be all over if the warrior had violence in mind. All the same short of fleeing for their lives into the wilderness (at which point Malthang didn't hold out high hopes for the party bar Sirruleathe and Amalii in this forbidding place.) it was the only plan they had.

"Very well noble. But if I die for this so help me not even Khaine himself, present company acknowledged," the shade said, turning to Sirruleathe, "Would be able to keep me from coming back from the afterlife to rip you limb from limb."

Malthang stalked off to scout around for a hiding area which might at the very least increase his chances of survival.

Utilising all his available field craft and ensuring he would be downwind from the approaching nauglir Malthang will secrete himself with his crossbow primed and ready.

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Thu Nov 03, 2011 6:01 pm
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Malthang crept forward, barely making a whisper of sound as his hunting instincts took over, he stalked through the undergrowth like an Arabyan desert panther. His prey though was something no panther would dare confront, there were few things that called nauglir prey.
On the other hand, I have very long claws, Malthang thought to himself with a wry smile.
Readying his crossbow, he sighted down the stock at his target, and waited.

“Will you stop fidgeting!” Snarled T’keela, striving to keep his voice low so that they were not discovered, though he was finding that task rather difficult. Beside him, Amalii momentarily ceased his agitated shuffling, an expression of amused embarrassment frozen onto his features.
“Thank you,” snapped the warrior, turning his eyes back to the road with an exasperated sigh.
Behind him, the quiet rustle of a small body slowly worming about, gradually resumed. T’Keela closed his eyes, and counted to ten. Very slowly. When that did not work, he concentrated all of his tremendous willpower into resisting the urge to leap up, draw his sword and pin the bloody mage to the ground with it to stop him squirming.
“What in the name of Khaine’s brass balls is the matter with you?” whispered T’Keela venomously, turning to skewer the vauvalka with his murderous glare.
“The ground is really uncomfortable, I think I’m lying on a thistle,” whined Amalii pathetically.
T’Keela rolled his eyes. “Tell you what, I’ll slit your throat, and then when you’re resting deep in the bowels of hell and your soul is being tortured for all eternity, I’m sure you can find a comfortable place to sit somewhere.”
“You really think so?” Asked Amalii, his big round eyes filled with stomach-churning rainbows of innocence and hope.
“Its no good T’Keela,” sighed Helkor, “Not even the dragons below could stomach this one, they’d just spit him right back out and we’d be lumbered with him all over again, and knowing our luck he would come back twice as annoying.”
“I suppose you’re right,” agreed T’Keela with a forlorn shake of his head, his face a mask of pained disappointment and regret.
“Pay attention you two,” grunted Selkoreth, his bulk only partially hidden by the gorse bush he was hiding under/behind, “Something’s changed.”
The warriors turned their attention back towards the road. As their towering counterpart had noted, the noble was indeed changing direction, his sword was held directly out in front of him now, pointing like an arrow into the forest some ways off to the hunters left, further down the road. The rider was close enough now for them all to make out the satisfied grin hiding within the open-faced helm, and as one, the hunter band held their collective breaths as the noble spurred his mount into a trot.

As the great beast neared Malthang’s hiding place, it’s enormous head swung to the side, nostrils flaring briefly as it tasted the air. Malthang uttered a silent curse and readied his crossbow, but the rider upon the back of the cold one gave his mount a curious glance and then urged it onwards,
“No time for dinner at the moment, Gnasher,” Malthang heard the elf mutter, the voice was melodious and soft, with traces of a highborn accent cloaked within the lower tones of a hardened warrior unused now to civilised discussion.
The cold one let loose a deep rumble from its throat but nevertheless obeyed its master’s command and plodded on. A relieved Malthang slowly untensed, painfully aware of how close he had been to becoming some proto-dinosaur brute’s mid-day snack. The great green lump of scales sniffed cautiously again as it passed close to the rest of the hunter group’s hiding places, but marched on sullenly, obeying the will of its rider. Some way up the road, the noble turned his nauglir from the track and urged it into the sparse undergrowth that covered the foothills of the iron mountains, heading North-Easterly towards some of the lower peaks.

“Well, that was close,” observed T’Keela sagely, “I’ve had enough encounters with wizards for one week.”
“He was no sorcerer.” The warrior stiffened as he heard Sirulleathe’s ghostly whisper floating over his shoulder.
“You know, I really wish you wouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” muttered the former noble, flashing a dark look at the offending Khainite behind him. Sirulleathe smiled.
“Force of habit.”
“But what do you mean by ‘he’s no sorcerer’, I thought you said you smelled magic,” said Helkor, sounding confused.
“The sword is enchanted,” interrupted Amalii, Sirulleathe gave the mage a cold look but did not disagree with him.
“Ah, that explains a lot,” said Helkor, “what it doesn’t explain is what in the blue blazes are you doing mage?”
“Huh?” asked Amalii, looking up at the warrior from where he had been rolling around on the floor like he’d been having some kind of a fit.
“I think - I laid on – something – ah - unpleasant - I’m all – itchy!”
“Will you stop messing about and stand up,” said T’Keela impatiently.
“He was following the sword,” stated Malthang as he emerged from a bush behind T’Keela.
“Stop doing that!” complained the warrior, “I hate it when people creep around behind me, it makes me feel even more like I’m about to be stabbed in the back!”
The shade ignored T’Keela and instead shot a bemused glance at Amalii, who was now sliding around in circles on his belly in a manner distinctly reminiscent of the way worms crawl about.
“What is it doing?”
“Malthang, Help me!” cried the mage with relief as he jumped to his feet and staggered forwards with his arms outstretched. “I think I sat on something and now I’ve got this slimy rash and…”
“Get away from me you revolting creature,” spat the shade as he dodged to the side of the vauvalka.
“Oh come on, be a pal,” pleaded Amalii.
“I would rather hack off my genitalia with a rusty bread knife and hand-feed them to a plague toad,” snarled Malthang, his face twisted into an expression of almost comical disgust.
“Now that would be something to watch,” chuckled T’Keela maliciously.
“Oh shut up you mutated spawn of chaos abominations and slugs.”
The warrior laughed, ignoring Malthang’s glare.
“Quite the charmer, aren’t you shade?”

Right then, the rider has carried on past and gone into the foothills, travelling towards the iron mountains in a similar, though more Northerly direction than you were, what do you want to do now? I assumed you didn’t want to provoke a fight if you didn’t need to, was that correct?
So what will you all do now?
Deadline is Friday 11th November


_________________
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.


Sun Nov 06, 2011 12:14 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor as the rider dwindled away into the distance and let out a small sigh of relief. Memories of Nauglir's and the ones that rode them flashed through his mind and he felt a snarl form on his lips before supressing it with an effort.

Rage wouldn't change what had happened.

He listened to the other's bicker and raised an eyebrow as Malthang's colorful description of what he would rather do when Amallii implored to relieve his itching.

"I suppose coincidences are possible but I haven't seen one yet. . ." He jabbed a finger at the direction the rider had taken. "I think he's following our quarry, so we should follow him, let him do the hard work in bringing down our quarry and then we steal his prey.

"But to do that we'll need to follow him."

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


Tue Nov 08, 2011 3:12 am
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