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Joined: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:37 am
Posts: 400
Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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OOC: I started with 4, so by my counts I would have 1 left? I should have kept up on updating that. Apologies.

IC: T'Keela sneered as the bullet punched through plate, armour, soft skin and hard bone before nestling somewhere deep in the gullet of the deadly noble, though his glee at causing such strife, soon turned into intrigue as the noble did not even seem to pause in his stride, aside from bellow in pain and quite a bit of anger. The noble was quickly back on track with taking Malthang out of the picture and promptly did so, killing one of the shade's in the process and taking out significant chunks of Malthang in the process. T'keela quickly decided he wanted one or even two of those swords, although, with Malthang's broken piece of steel it looked like he would have to share.

Beginning to reload his pistol, T'Keela surveyed the carnage, the nobles attention had been drawn by the bloodshade, who apparently felt some sort of misdirected sense of familial bonds towards Malthang & the previously unconscious Helkor had decided to get off his dusty, old haunches and join the fight. Knowing he had no chance against the noble on his lonesome, T'keela decided to be something of a team player & started to stalk towards the noble, loosing his sword, a hungry gleam in his eyes, it had been too long since he had killed another elf...

OOC: T'Keela will try and reload his pistol and prepare it to fire at point blank range, should an opportunity present itself. Aside from that he will go and try and help take out the noble, while keep as little attention on himself.

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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:


Wed Apr 25, 2012 11:30 pm
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Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
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Malthang shuffled backwards as quickly as he could with a single arm, his left arm hung limp across his body leaking his life blood into his armour. Still clutching his shattered sword in his right hand the shade tried to put some distance between himself and the fight. The blood shade had come to his rescue rather unexpectedly, a debt that Malthang would have to repay..... Provided that the autarii survived the encounter of course.

The shade looked down at the shard of broken steel in his hand before dropping it in disgust. He gritted his teeth at the agony in his shoulder, he began to feel lightheaded and knew he was losing a lot of blood. Possibly too much. He needed to staunch the wound and quickly. Helkor was moving into the fight after regaining consciousness and T'Keela was somewhere behind him out of sight, that didn't leave a huge number of choices. He couldn't believe what he was about to say. Amalii! I need your help. Make a tourniquet, quickly.

OOC: Malthang plans on using the tourniquet to slow the blood loss for a while at least, hopefully until the noble can be dealt with and he can sort out the wound properly.

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Fri May 04, 2012 3:38 pm
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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The bloodshade’s face twisted into a feral snarl, the tattoos across his skin began to writhe and glow with power as he tapped into the magic of the mountain clans bound within the many-hued ink that marked him. Taking a step forwards, snake-like coils of black and purple glistened along the straining muscles of his arm as he pressed against the twin-sworded bind that locked his own blade in place. The noble’s eyes widened as he found himself being pushed backwards by the bloodshade’s one arm. Gritting his teeth, the noble dug in his heels and pushed with all his strength against the casual one-handed grip the bloodshade held his sword in, but the force was as indomitable as the power of the tides, grinding inexorably onwards, shunting the noble back. Suddenly the bloodshade’s sword swung to the right, pulling his opponent’s steel along with it, the shade’s body twisted, driving his left fist into the exposed stomach of the warrior like a pneumatic ram. The armoured figure was lifted clean off his feet and driven back half a dozen metres by the force of the blow, his booted feet clattering for purchase as they re-alighted on the ground, skidding along the craggy stone underfoot. The noble coughed, looking down in bewilderment at the dent in the scalloped shell of his abdominal armour.
“I congratulate your armourer,” mocked the bloodshade with a serpent’s grin. "Most sheets of metal fold like paper when I release my Harath Khar. To have little more than a dent is impressive.”
The tattoos that whispered across every inch of his flesh were twisting and knotting, growing to consume more of his skin as they watched, pulsing with life like veins and melding back and forth between dusky skin and dark ink until it was impossible to say where one finished and the other began. They flowed like the tentacles of a kraken down his bare arms and wove into snarling hounds along his cheeks that stretched their fangs beneath his lip before diving back down his neck to disappear beneath the black cloth that shrouded his chest. His muscles moved like oiled coils of steel beneath the thin coat of skin and magic as if desperate to burst free from their confines.
Taking another menacing step forwards, the bloodshade hissed in excitement, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword lightly, held out infront of him with all the contempt of a master swordsman addressing a snot-nosed boy of sixteen brandishing a broom handle. His left arm hung limp at his side, the hand occasionally flexing and twitching.

The noble brought his swords into a classic Sariya guard position, side-on, right leg forwards, the heavier silver blade pushed forwards with the hilt held a little above the knee and the point levelled at his opponent’s chest, the sleeker obsidian blade held back in his left hand to almost touch his cheek, running horizontally past his eyes to point directly at the bloodshade’s throat. The noble took a deep breath. Suddenly his eyes snapped wide and he dropped into a low crouch, Helkor’s sword swept over the helm, the warrior letting out a low curse and leaping backwards as the noble swept a leg out to try and cut his legs out from under him. The former guardsmen stumbled, his wounded arm flailing uselessly whilst the noble rose fluidly with his twin swords driving forwards in an intricate and deadly pattern. Helkor batted away two lightning-quick swipes before the dragon-hilted blade smashed his own aside and the black fang darted towards his chest.
A rending crash announced T’Keela’s entry into the fight as he intercepted the attack, the noble howled in anger and chopped at his fellow highborn with his silver steel but Helkor blocked the wild swing and pressed forwards. The two warriors began to fall into a rhythm, one pressing forwards into the openings left when the noble attacked the other, or covering the extra blade that one elf alone couldn’t account for to protect each other’s blindside. Steadily they began to push the noble backwards. Their swords dove through gaps to ring off the heavy plate as their opponent began to pant and snarl, starting to feel his heavy injuries now he was so pressured. Soon his eyes began flickering back over his shoulder as he deduced their plan, slowly but surely he was being manoeuvred towards the bloodshade, who waited calmly and patiently, still with the sickening grin, his arms outstretched as if ready to sweep up the noble in a warm embrace. The fearful gleam that could be seen in the eyes of the noble behind the chainmail eyeslits told everything; if he fell into that grip, then his steel plate would buckle and split, ribs would crack and joints pop, blood would pour and his fate would be sealed.

Feet danced delicately through the carnage across the floor, stepping over crushed limbs and spent ammunition, past the fallen body of Malthang -among the corpses but not yet one with them- and over the legs of the noble’s butchered mount. The bloodshade began to glide forwards to shut the trap, bringing his sword up almost as an afterthought, the noble glanced backwards and his momentary lapse of concentration almost cost him a hand as T’Keela’s blade caught the gap between vambrace and gauntlet. With a curse the noble dropped the obsidian sword as he jerked the hand backwards, his gauntlet flying free to show skin as pale as snow beneath. As one sword clattered to the ground the noble exploded forwards, ignoring T’Keela’s sword as it slid past and instead throwing himself bodily at Helkor. The warrior bellowed in surprise as he was knocked off his feet, a shadow blurred forwards, glowing lines leaving a rainbow afterimage as the bloodshade surged towards the noble, intent on finishing him off. But the fatal embrace closed on thin air and the bloodshade grunted in surprise as he stumbled past, losing his feet as he failed to crash into his target and instead tripping over the prone body of Helkor. With lightning reflexes the noble had planted the tip of his sword into the ground and pushed off, rolling below the bloodshade and aside. With a snarl the blur of energy sprung to its feet and bounced off a wall like it was a springboard, catapulting forward to rectify its error as blood sprayed freely from a gash the noble’s sword had opened along his stomach. The noble gripped the pommel of his sword with two hands and placed the butt against his chest, the bloodshade hurled himself onto the blade, its tip driving straight through his rib cage and punching out of his back as he impaled himself to the hilt, the noble screamed as the momentum and weight of the shade forced the rounded pommel of his sword through his own breastplate like a holepunch, and then he was flying across the room in a chorus of snapping bones as the shade smashed both sculpted pectorals of the armour suit with a double palm thrust heavier than sledgehammer blows that left craters in the plate metal and doubtless the elf’s chest beneath.
The bloodshade doubled over with his hands clutching the gushing rents in his belly and chest as the noble bounced of a wall and rolled to his feet with an anguished scream. From his belt he withdrew a small polished sphere and hurled it towards the bloodshade, his face grim with pain and anger. As it sailed through the air, the noble turned and fled. The bloodshade roared in anger and reached out a hand to swat away the sphere, but collapsed to his knees as blood poured from his mouth and his legs gave way.

T’Keela watched as the grenade landed a yard from where the bloodshade knelt and exploded in a blast of light and sound that flattened the bloodshade against a wall on the far side of the tunnel. T’Keela barely had time to scream before his vision was washed away in a blinding wave of fire and his consciousness swallowed by the darkness.

You awake to a scene of devastation, corpses litter the floor and blood is splashed across the stone. Not far away you can see the body of Selkoreth among the detritus, torn in half from the Nauglir’s first attack.
Shades lay dead everywhere but their leader still breathes, he sits at the foot of the wall the blast flung him against, his clothes torn to shreds, his skin blistered and torn. His tattoos have retreated back to their normal dormant state, but you notice that they meander back and forth like stitches across the gash in the shade’s belly and the image of a hound’s jaws are closed over the puncture wound in his chest, both wounds are healed, like they were sealed in black ink, similar wisps of shadow cover scratches across his abdomen and face so that his skin now bears almost twice as much of the dark tattoos as before.
Not far away Amalii sifts through the wreckage. Straightening, he brandishes the obsidian sword the noble dropped and examines it carefully; a viscous liquid drips from its point onto the floor, he sniffs at its edge and then runs a hand along the flat of the blade, humming to himself.
Around you your companions also begin to stir, groans of pain echo in the darkness as elves awake to the carnage.

T’Keela: You failed your intelligence test to recognise shiny orb is bad thing so you didn’t duck for cover very quickly, however, thanks to your armour and the fact that you were far enough from the explosion you didn’t get too badly injured. So for once you’re not in too bad shape and can happily get up and investigate things, what are you going to whilst you wait for the others to recover?

Helkor: likewise a failed intelligence test to duck for cover but you were already on the ground so the blast only knocked you out for a bit. However you are only barely able to regain consciousness due to the severity of your wound earlier, now you are able to take stock you can feel your left arm badly broken and where the cold one’s fangs snapped shut they cut to the bone, you have been bleeding heavily, you were only out for a few seconds, but with the toll taken on your body by your injury and then attacking the noble you are almost out of it, you can barely move, best get someone to fix you up because if you pass out again you may not wake up.

Malthang: One of Amalii’s strange magics is currently knitting your shoulder together and it has stopped the bleeding but you are starting to go dizzy and hallucinate, you don’t appear to have lost that much blood. You passed your intelligence test to take cover and sheltered beneath a corpse so the explosion didn’t affect you at all, what will you do to heal yourself?

Deadline is Sunday 27th May which is a nice long time so explore, converse, ponder, plot your next move.


_________________
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 May 08, 2012 9:02 pm
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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OOC: Earth to the RP group, your humble mod has returned from examinary purgatory and awaits your posts with baited breath.
PS: What does that actually mean anyway? 'Waiting with baited breath'? don't understand it.

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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 May 28, 2012 8:32 pm
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Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
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Malthang swayed ever so slightly as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him, he looked at his damaged shoulder to see his flesh apparently flowing of its own accord. This only added to his current state of unease and he averted his eyes quickly, only keeping his stomach contents where they belong through an immense amount of willpower. He looked around at the carnage that had been wrought around him, lots of dead, lots of loot too by the look of things. And something else too, he couldn't be sure but he thought the shadows were taking on strange shapes, as if cast by objects that he couldn't see, ghosts of the light flitting and flickering across the craggy walls. He shook his head to try to clear the images but all that accomplished was the addition of spots of colour dancing across his retinas. He struggled unsteadily to his feet, his shoulder was no longer bleeding which was a bonus. "Amalii, you have my thanksh but pleashe shtop melting my shoulder back together." the shade slurred at his magical companion.

The shade knelt next to one of the dead shades and tore a sizeable chunk of fabric from his cloak, this done he sat on the cold stone floor and retrieved his final healing salve from his belt pouch. Briefly his mind drifted back to Sirruleathe and he silently thanked Khaine for the teachings of his disciple and his sacrifice in dealing with the basilisk. Closing his eyes for a moment he took a deep breath, blocking out everything for a second to steady himself before applying the salve to the wound and then using his uninjured arm and his teeth to wrap the makeshift bandage in place.

This done, he began scanning the dead... he did need a new sword after all. Though retrieving it may have to wait until his legs felt less like jelly. And the walls stopped pulsing slightly...

OOC: Malthang is going to attempt to heal himself using his remaining supplies before resting himself briefly to allow the after effects of Amalii's magics to wear off. This done he is going to try to locate the corpse of the noble if he did actually die and failing that one of the shade's bodies so he can replace his sword and replenish his ammunition for the repeater crossbow.

Also, the phrase "bated breath" comes from abated, meaning to lessen. Basically you are so caught up in the moment of emotion you lose your breath. :)

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Wed May 30, 2012 12:32 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 could feel the rough stones of the cavern floor poking into his back, but he was past the point of caring anymore.

His clothes were tacky with his blood and his left arm felt like someone had poured lava into it.

After what seemed like an eternity he managed to turn his head, he ran his tongue over smashed lips and gasped for breath as his vision narrowed to a thin tunnel, surrounded by darkness. He fought desperately to hold on to conciousness as he was gripped by an overwhelming fear that he might not wake again.

He inhaled and groaned as agony shot through him, but at least the pain had staved off oblivion, for now. . .

"Help." He rasped and hoped someone had heard him.

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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


Thu May 31, 2012 1:00 am
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Malthang sighed with relief as he spread the healing salve over his wounds and immediately felt a cool wave of energy washing through his body. Tendons and skin began to knit together before his very eyes in his wounded shoulder and the slight gash from the Obsidian blade began to burn and steam as it turned a healthy pink, the healing salve eradicating some taint or poison that had infested the wound. After a few minutes The dizziness receded and Malthang’s head cleared, his wounds still hurt mightily but even the sensations of pain began to dull and fade as the anaesthetic qualities of the poultice kicked in. Malthang bound his wounds and then stood to inspect the carnage.

Bodies lay everywhere, most in various states of dismemberment where the noble and his mount had cut a bloody swathe through their ranks. Three shades squatted on their haunches, gathered around their leader, all breathing heavily with clothes shredded and torn by the explosion. They spoke in hushed voices to the bloodshade, all with the barest hints of strain in their voices, talking as dispassionately about the slaughter of their comrades as they would about the weather. Malthang’s eyes scoured the corpses as he picked his way through the body parts, prodding here and poking there to see if any were still barely alive.
“You won’t find him,” stated T’Keela calmly as he stepped away from a shadowed wall, “The noble got away.”
“Dammit, how could he have survived that?”
“Well even though he did, its doubtful that he’ll ever make it above ground alive, not in that state. And he is certainly out of the hunt.”
“You think he was after Varranaithe?”
“Bit too much of a coincidence don’t you think for him to come down here too? This isn’t exactly a high-traffic area.”
Malthang nodded begrudgingly, he had a point.
Amalii giggled as he rose out of the shadows behind Malthang and T’Keela, making both the elves jump.
“Not just a sword but a tracker!” cried the vauvalka excitedly as he brandished the noble’s obsidian sword, “He’s had it enchanted with a tracer spell so that it glows when it nears the target.”
Malthang shared a smile with T’Keela, “And if he was tracking Varranaithe then this will lead us straight to our mark,” hissed the shade with an evil grin.
“But if not then it will lead us on a wild goose chase,” cautioned T’Keela in response. Before they could argue any further though they were interrupted by a gasping rattle coming from a pile of corpses. The three Druchii rushed over and heaved the bodies aside.
“Help,” cried Helkor weekly as they uncovered his maimed form. His arm was a mangled ruin and there was blood everywhere, hope died in the warrior’s eyes as he saw the grim expressions of his comrades hovering over him.
T’Keela covered a grimace, “What shall we do with him?” he asked Malthang quietly, as Helkor began to slip out of consciousness.
“And what shall we do with the sword?”
Amalii grinned as he slunk behind the shade and pressed the pommel into his hand,
“It seems to me,” giggled the mage, “that you are in need of a replacement.”
T’Keela’s frown deepened but he didn’t comment. Malthang held the sword up, marvelling at it’s light weight and balance, he squinted closer at the oily sheen that coated it’s midnight-black blade.
“Interesting, I will have to analyse this,” smiled Ravensbane to himself as he contemplated his new acquisition, which seemed to glow slightly brighter as he turned towards the next stretch of tunnels.

Right then, what are you going to do about Helkor? After that will you follow the sword or make your own way? Is there anything else you want from the corpses before you move on? The noble did escape, somehow. There are three shades and the bloodshade left still alive.
Malthang you have acquired this sword: Vehr (St 3, Sp4) Vehr is a slender, obsidian black blade coated in poison.
You can exchange it for a different sword/pick up another sword if you wish.
Deadline is Friday.

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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 Jun 04, 2012 8:29 pm
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Malthang looked over to where T'Keela lay near death and began to inspect his wounds. They were serious. Very much so. And the shade had used the last of his healing salves to repair his shoulder so that option was out. The best they could do would be to bandage him up and try and get him to keep up which in these conditions was pretty much a death sentence. The only other option was to let Amalii use his magics. The warrior had shown himself to be an able companion and the shade was unwilling to let the stubborn bastard die while he still owed him a debt for freeing him back in the square; even if he did seem to have a death wish...

"Amalii, is there anything you can do? If not then I'd suggest giving him Khaine's blessing and we move on. Even if the blade is not enchanted to find our quarry whatever lies at the end of this search must be worthwhile for the noble to have gone to such efforts."

He noticed that the bloodshade still lived and padded quickly over to where the other autarii were gathering. "My thanks for your assistance. I have some knowledge of healing I would repay my debt to you if you have injuries that require attention?"

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Thu Jun 07, 2012 11:05 am
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The bloodshade turned his face towards Ravensbane, weariness written deep across every inch of his features yet still his lips quirked into a wry smile. His hand languidly gestured at the freshly woven tattoos that twined across where his most recent wounds had been.
“My thanks, friend, for the offer. But what ails me can never be cleansed from my body. The blood inks of my clan strengthen me by taking over where my flesh proves weak, but inevitably they will advance too far, and consume me.” The bloodshade grinned wolfishly, “Until that day, I will devour everything in my path. Until that day I will hunt, hunt until my gifts consume me.”
Malthang bowed respectfully, “Until that day, Kythanel, I would hunt at your side.”
The bloodshade inclined his head in grave assent.
“You will always have a place at our side, Bane of Ravens.”
Malthang’s wintery smile was eclipsed by shadow as he backed away into the dark confines of the tunnel to seek out the rest of his companions.

The shade found T’Keela and Amalii gathered around the bloody, battered wreck that was Helkor. A quick glance reinforced Malthang’s earlier assessment; the warrior was beyond the level of mundane healing arts that he possessed.
“Amalii?” Asked the shade.
A rare frown creased the vauvalka’s forehead, his expression puzzled.
“It could be done, but he cannot be moved, and I would have to bend all of my arts to holding him together until his own body takes over enough to finish healing him.”
“We’d have to leave you here.” It wasn’t a question.
The mage’s flat gaze was answer enough.
T’Keela raised a dubious eyebrow to his shadowy companion. “Just me and thee?”
Malthang laughed coldly, “The thought’s enough to curdle your guts isn’t it?”
“Is his life worth losing our only sorcerous backup?” Questioned the warrior, poking Helkor’s body with an armoured toe.
“We still have the four shades.”
“Three and a half, their leader is a mean hand with a sword I’ll grant you but he’s more ink now than flesh, and the rest of them are battered to hell. We’re not exactly fresh as daisies either.”
“Speak for yourself,” grinned Malthang.
“But can we afford to lose the mage? Varranaithe’s demon-kin now. The last time we cornered him he punched a 7 foot tall warrior in full plate armour clean across a warehouse, or had you forgotten?”
“I know, I know,” muttered Malthang, “let me think.”

Right then, I delayed the post because I want to get everyone active for the next couple of mod-posts as it is time for the final showdown. Simple choice to be made whilst I round up T’Keela and prepare for the next couple of posts: Leave Helkor to die and have Amalii with you for the final stretch or leave both Amalii and Helkor behind in which case Amalii may heal Helkor, or something could stumble across them both and eat them. Either way once you’ve made that decision you will be on the final leg of this quest.

Might take me a little while to write this next post as it will be complicated to set out, just bear with me. Deadline is this Friday


Quote:
Malthang looked over to where T'Keela lay near death
Bit of a Freudian slip there eh Malthang? ;) Helkor's at death's door, T'Keela is in good shape for once

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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 Jun 18, 2012 8:48 pm
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OOC: Oops! Definite Freudian slip haha, guess I'm just used to it usually being T'Keela in need of getting patch up! :P sorry T!

IC: Malthang's brow creased in concentration while he mulled over the options available to him. If he and T'Keela continued without Amalii and Helkor then they would at least have the shades in support but they lose Amalii's magical expertise... But it would mean that Helkor would be fit enough to continue once they caught up and he made a rather helpful distraction for crazed, sword wielding nobles, daemon-kin, chaos beasts and nauglir. If they waited with the pair then the shades might continue without them, halving their group size and making them more vulnerable but they would ensure that the sorcerer and Helkor were protected. That said they would be stuck if anything large was attracted to the sound of the fighting that had just concluded.

"Varranaithe will be expecting us to attack in a similar fashion to before, mundane weapons, stealth and force. Having Amalii will provide us with an element of surprise. For ourselves as much as him, unfortunately", the shade muttered this last part under his breath, drawing a grim smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We will need him with us on this hunt. Helkor is helpful but his like can be found two dozen a dwarf skin in any town or port. As much as I may have come to not completely despise the warrior we may have no choice but to leave him here. Our party grows ever smaller, noble, What say you?" the shade turned towards T'Keela, arms folded across his chest, fingers drumming a mild tattoo on the stock of his repeater crossbow.

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Thu Jun 21, 2012 2:00 pm
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Helkor groaned desperately as the tramp of booted feet gradually disappeared and the vague shadows of his comrades receded from his vision. Blood drooled lazily from the ragged lacerations that traced down his arms. Spots danced in front of his eyes as the dark tunnel faded in and out, his eyelids growing weary from their constant battle. At last, darkness’ soft embrace welcomed him into merciful unconsciousness again, leaving nothing more than a battered husk strewn amongst the corpses, barely distinguished from them by the ever-weakening rise and fall of his chest.

Malthang strode ahead of the rest of the party, the loss of another companion weighing on his mind. They had started out from that dreary stable in Vikhar with four, and now of the original hunters only he remained. Others had come and gone, struck down by the ambushes and traps and running battles that had beset them from the very first. But the shade still stood, the trials of the trail, the great northern city of Ghrond and even the underway proving insufficient to turn him from his prey. And unfortunately, the shade reflected to himself with a grim smile, also insufficient to polish off the annoying warrior that still clung to this hunt like a blood-worm to the armpit of a cold-one.
Malthang was shaken from his daze by the faint tingle of energy that trickle through his fingers and up along the tendons of his arm from his newest acquisition. Amalii had explained –in excited tones, with the occasional dance- that the sword had been enchanted to react to the faint trail of residual taint from daemonkind that the creatures emanated like an aura. The traces of chaos magic that were left imprinted on everything they touched was like a breadcrumb trail allowing them to literally walk in the demon’s footsteps, and Malthang would be highly surprised if there were two chaos-tainted fugitives being tracked by bounty hunters in the same small stretch of the underway. It had to be their mark.
The shade frowned as he began to walk on down the tunnel and the buzzing vibrations of power pulsing from his sword, named Vehr according to the inscription on the hilt, dulled again. Taking a step backwards, Ravensbane swept the sword in broad arcs across the ground, closing his eyes to concentrate on the subtle strands of power that writhed and curled around him, strings that snapped like whips and undulated like serpents in a breeze only the likes of Amalii could see. They twined along the length of Vehr’s blade to gently lie across his arm; it felt like half-imagined feathers drifting along that brushed, flitted against his skin for a moment, before they floated on. Compelled by his curiosity, Malthang extended his hand to toy with the ethereal strands, trying to gather them together as he felt them brush past, braid into a shape he could more easily grasp. But it was like trying to hold a handful of water, it leaked through his fingers and the harder he gripped, the more easily it trickled away until he was left holding nothing again, the trails teasing his skin, tingling with a power he tried to reach for but could never hold. No wonder it drove mages mad.

With a force of will Malthang wrenched himself back to the task at hand, chiding himself for playing around whilst still on the hunt. No better than a child that’s been thrown a shiny new toy snarled the shade inwardly, his lip curling in self-disgust. Quickly following the prickling sensation that trilled along his arms, he turned to the walls of the tunnel and placed the tip of Vehr against the cratered stone. A shudder rippled across his shoulders and without hesitation he pushed forwards, steel sparking as it ground across the rock face until it vanished into a shadowed incrop. Malthang stumbled forwards as the resistance vanished but swiftly recovered, tapping the point of his sword ahead of him like a blind man’s cane as even his shade’s vision failed him in the absolute darkness. Slipping through a narrow opening, he found himself in a narrow side-passage so constricting that he could barely sidle through without scraping his shoulders against the walls and he had to stoop to avoid smashing his head on the low-hanging ceiling. Malthang grimaced at the situation, if Varranaithe, or anything else that lurked in this godforsaken place for that matter, attacked them then they wouldn’t even be able to draw their weapons, let alone wield them. And of course as first in line, he would be the first to be slaughtered, the shade noted with a grim laugh.
“Here we go again.”

T’Keela frowned as Malthang tapped around with his blasted sword and then stepped through a solid stone wall. With a shrug, he followed the vauvalka and their companion shades through the crevasse into a space so ridiculously cramped that he feared he would get stuck at any moment. Sighing, he bent his knees and began to sidle, crab-like, through the tight space. Every grind and scrape of stone across his armour made the warrior grit his teeth, both for the noise and his professional distaste in the damage to his already near-useless armour. So much for warrior’s pride. Chuckling to himself at how ridiculous he must look, which should really have sparked the Kerosene-fuelled fires of his anger but after the absurdity of his journey so far, was instead sucked into the morass of gallows humour every soldier carries in his chest for comfort against the soul-crushing realisation that he was marching towards the end of his journey.
The warrior paused and considered this thought. Usually his Druchii arrogance, that casual disdain for all the lesser races and inflated, egotistical belief that nothing but one of his own kind could ever outwit or outfight him, crushed such depressive thoughts and discarded them from the narrow walks of his mind into the mental equivalent of a trash bin.
I’ve not tortured or killed enough people recently, T’Keela decided with an irate frown, far too much time spent being beaten bloody or screwed around by the fire monkey and those blasted shadow elves. What I need is some decent, honest, brutal murdering.
Greatly reassured by coming to this decision, T’Keela resumed his crab walk in a more determined shuffle than he’d previously managed, ready for a good dose of therapy.


The elf shuffled and loped in a circle around a small fire. He gibbered and gestured vaguely. When his face was turned towards the glowing embers they lit a lopsided grin that slid round the edge of his face with a few too many teeth in between. It was clear that whatever daemon infested Varranaithe, it was proving too much for him.
The hunter party studied him from a ledge some twenty metres above, perched like a murder of ravens. The outcrop of stone they had gathered upon was situated almost at the roof of the cavern, which was almost perfectly shaped, or rather as they were beginning to suspect, carved, in the shape of a dome. Strange symbols and runes were inscribed on the walls and floor, as well as each of a number of narrow spans of stone that jutted from the circumference of the cavern like a spiral staircase leading down from the ledge the hunters stood upon, except there was a three meter gap between each of these steps. Each stone step emerged from a shadowed alcove set in the circular wall, which could lead on to further tunnels, or any number of less pleasant things. The floor of the cavern was comfortably thirty paces across, darkness shrouding the far edges in midnight hues which lightened to a misty grey until it reached within five feet of the fire. The firelight was a perfect column of warm ambience, everything within a few feet of the fire was bathed in uniform, golden light that neither flickered nor wavered in hue and stretched, unbroken, straight to the ceiling. The grey shadows of the outer circle mounded up against the wall of light as if straining against an invisible barrier, but not a wisp infiltrated the precise arc of warmth. Malthang’s keen eyes noted that despite the way he stumbled and paced at random, Varranaithe never set foot outside the column of light.

“Well?” Asked T’Keela, turning to Malthang. “Plan?”
“Hit him til he stops moving?” The shade suggested.
“Sounds good to me.”
The bloodshade frowned at the two bounty hunters, “Is that your standard battle plan? ‘hit it until it dies?’”
Malthang and T’Keela glanced at one another, shrugged.
“We used to come up with complicated, cunning tactics to assault our enemies,” sighed Ravensbane.
“But that took so much effort, and they inevitably went wrong,”
“So now we do things much more simply, send the warriors in as cannon fodder whilst I shoot the enemy at my leisure.”
“Yeah… Wait, what?”

Ok then, sorry it took me a while to write, but I was also planning out what’s going to happen with the group at the end of this story arc, assuming any of you survive that is…

I don’t know why I’m using the collective nomination seeing how currently only Varaken appears to be active, so until anyone else returns to activity you have control over all the player characters and dictate the battle plan, its Malthang’s moment to shine, so what’s the plan? You’ll need to make it a good one, feel free to dictate what each character’s role will be and, since it’s the last battle of this arc, make it a goodun! The situation as you can see it is as layed out in the above post, On the ledge you have Malthang, T’Keela, Amalii, the bloodshade and three shades. Malthang you now have Vehr: a St3, Sp4 poisoned sword (You’ll have to investigate to find what poison) which also has some form of magic-sensing abilities, to what extent you do not know, but it has put you in contact with the arcane, perhaps this could be developed when you have time? T’Keela’s sword and armour are both badly damaged. Two shades are lightly wounded, the other appears unharmed.

Deadline is Friday 13th.




Future plans: As stated I have more story arcs planned out, the next one is definitely a bit shorter, is there interest to continue the group? Any players who survive through this encounter will lead a team of bounty hunters (new player recruits) into the abode of a sorceress to bring her in, dead or alive. But her palace is not exactly normal…
I’m hoping to put in a spray of more challenging traps which require more thinking to solve as opposed to battling creatures, but there will still be plenty of hacky slicey. You may also see some familiar faces…
Interested? If you are please let me know so I can fully lay down the groundwork for it and have it ready for launch. Also any feedback on what you think of this story arc, what you want in the next one and generally any comments on the group are most welcome... even criticism, I can take it ;) I hope XD seriously, anything you'd like me to improve on, just let me know and I will endeavour to make things better

Thanks and happy hunting! Malus

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Tue Jul 03, 2012 10:24 pm
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OOC: I'm still in, I know I haven't posted in forever, but I'll keep playing if you'll let Helkor live :D

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


Tue Jul 31, 2012 1:44 am
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The Shadow King wrote:
I'll keep playing if you'll let Helkor live :D


Bribery? How very Druchii of you, I like it :lol:

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Tue Jul 31, 2012 2:12 pm
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Malthang eyed the sorcerer pacing around the column of light. His sharp eyes picking out that he never strayed outside the column and nothing seemed to pass within it from outside. Well, this makes things a little more challenging...good thing we brought our own magic...practioner. The shade had to actively prevent himself from using the word "expert" when referring to Amalii, he was fairly sure the elf just sort of aimed roughly in the right direction and allowed the winds of chaos to pretty much vomit forth. Still, might be of use here.

The shade turned gracefully to his hunting party and dropped his voice to a husk of a whisper, trained over decades of hunting in his native forests. "Assuming we can penetrate that column of light I will stay here in the shadows, I have a special vial I've been saving just for this moment. That should take care of our quarry regardless of his possession." Malthang turned to the shades, "Do you think you will be able to reach ground level without disturbing the quarry? He appears to be in the middle of casting so he is likely to be preoccupied but it might be a ruse. If my quarrel fails to do it's work I will need you to either finish the job or hold him up until I can prepare another shot." Finally, he turned to the sorcerer, "Amalii, what would happen if we were to pass through the illuminated barrier? As tempting as it is to send T'keela running through it I would rather not lose the benefit of surprise if I can avoid it."

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Mon Aug 13, 2012 7:29 pm
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The Bloodshade inclined his head as Malthang made his request, and gestured languidly at his remaining companions, who silently dispersed to the edge of the stone outcropping they stood upon and leaped gracefully into the all-consuming shadows – two hopping nimbly along the stepping stone path that spiralled around the edge of the cavern, whilst the bloodshade and his sole unwounded subordinate simply walked off the front of the platform, strong fingers grasping the edge of the stone as they fell to swing gracefully down towards a lower level.

Amalii stood for a moment, possibly considering Malthang’s question, possibly listening in case one of the shades misjudged a jump and fell to a horrible, bone-crunching (and to Amalii’s way of thinking, highly amusing) death. Finally the mage snapped out of his reverie and turned a contemplative gaze on the column of searing radiance that burned in the centre of the cavern.
“I think… that it could be just about anything,” declared Amalii at last whilst stroking his chin thoughtfully, or rather, the rounded bottom point of his mask.
Malthang sighed.
“Could you be more helpful? Or at least any help at all?”
“I could throw fire at it.”
“Would that help?”
“Maybe, or it might blow everything in this cavern sky high, or do nothing at all.”
Amalii giggled as Malthang heaved another exasperated sigh, “Well what is your best guess then? Could we walk through it?”
The mage pondered for a moment, his fingers still teasing an imaginary goatee.
“Possibly, I would have to feel it myself to be sure, but unless it has a disintegration spell bound into the magical weaves I think you could pass through it safely. It looks more like a magical barrier to prevent energy from entering, or leaving, to me. However it is likely the caster would at least be aware of you crossing its boundaries.”
The shade blinked. “Um… Thank you, that was surprisingly-”
“Or it might just burn everything to cinders,” giggled the vauvalka gleefully.
“And here I thought you might be of use…”

Right then, there are the answers to your questions Malthang, what next? There’s no point setting deadlines at this stage so just post as soon as you can, and let’s get this party started!

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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.


Tue Aug 21, 2012 11:23 pm
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Malthang considered the information Amalii had presented him. Not much in the way of options remained to him. The chase had come down to this final moment, for better or worse. Offering a brief prayer to the woodland spirits of his home village and to Khaine for good measure as well as out of genuine sympathy for their former Khainite companion. The shade turned to T'Keela, "Now or never, head down a little bit and be ready to charge incase it fails. The shot might not kill him but it might disrupt the barrier or at least wound him. The wolves of the underway are set and placed, they will fight with you if they must. Amalii, if you could not do anything particularly... unexpected for the next minute or so that would be appreciated. Though feel free to step in if things start going from bad to worse here. Let's see how well a daemon can deal with a dose of soulrot in his heart."

With that the shade pulled out his repeater crossbow, his most treasured item in the world. Ran his fingers gently over the subtle carvings down the stock. Silently he pulled the wire taught and locked it in place before placing it gently to one side so as not to release the hair trigger he had crafted himself as a younger Autarii. He pulled out a bolt and studied it for any damage or bluntness in the metal and wood. Satisfied he reached into his pouch of poultices and poisons and pulled forth a vial of thick, black liquid. Unstoppering it he very, very carefully applied a layer of it to the tip and wooden shaft of the bolt. Satisfied with the dosage he stoppered the near empty vial and replaced it in his pouch. Deftly he loaded the crossbow and got into a prone firing position, the crossbow tracking the movement of the target below. Seeing that all was set, he inhaled and exhaled deeply, held his breath and squeeze the trigger once, single shot and the bolt sprang away into the chamber...

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Fri Sep 14, 2012 2:32 pm
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The bolt glided along its track as swift and sure as a summer breeze whipping past. Spraying from the barrel, the oily black sheen of flesh-eating poison shimmered in the glow cast by the rippling magical barrier that flooded the centre of the cavern. Slick as an eel, the razor-edged head carved through the air, parting it like a curtain, with an almost audible sigh.

Malthang’s unblinking eyes drank in every detail, Watched as the bolt slipped through the golden ward with barely a stutter, ripples dancing across the shining surface. Watched as Varranaithe turned, a sneer twisting his face. Watched, as it twisted further, grimace of pain, shock, panic.
Then relief.

Malthang spat a curse, his lip curling in disgust. Even in a dim alcove, forty metres away, he could plainly see how much of the shaft protruded from the daemon-thrall’s Kheitan. Knew how far it had got, knew it wasn’t far enough, would never have broken the skin.
His mind replayed the memory, checking every calculation; certainly the sea-dragon-skin Kheitan his mark wore had stopping power, but not that much. And in the last instant before impact, the quarrel had shuddered and slowed, for a fraction of a moment, like it was sinking into thick treacle. The shade snapped from his analysis as his attention was dragged back to the moment; T’Keela had entered the fray, sword held high over his right shoulder as he bellowed a war cry and charged forwards. He passed through the barrier with as little inconvenience as Malthang’s crossbow bolt had, feet thundering on the cold stone floor. Varranaithe turned to meet him with arms open wide. T’Keela’s sword flashed downwards, the possessed’s talon-like claws rent the air in a blur.
But T’Keela had shirked the rogue elf’s embrace, planting his foot just short and halting in mid swing. Inscribing a perfect figure-eight with the point, T’Keela brought his longsword back across his body to hang below his left hip only to slash upwards again, aiming to split Varranaithe from navel to chin. Steel glittered so close to the scaled armour that it seemed impossible, but somehow the elf had leapt away without a scratch. His speed was monstrous. T’Keela scowled at his sword like it had betrayed him, and the moment of inattention cost.
Varranaithe was there, crossing the space between them without any apparent movement in between. The warrior rose his sword instinctively to block, and caught the open-handed slap squarely on its edge. Snap! And T’Keela hurtled across the room to land in a clattering heap, his dented armour hanging off by a strap.

Varranaithe held his hands to the sky, cheering with wild, childish joy. As he raised his arms, the Kheitan fluttered open down a split that ran, perfectly straight, just off-centre down his chest. Malthang swore again, louder this time. T’Keela’s sword stroke hadn’t just been close, it had carved straight through the dragon-scales; but the snow-white skin beneath, patterned with obsidian veins that pulsed with unholy energies, remained unblemished. Before his mind could finish exploring its conclusions, his eyes were drawn again to the magical barrier. Ripples were cascading across its face like a pond disturbed by skimming stones, undulating and shivering, the creases building, linking, merging and pooling to ripple again in greater rifts that swept across to gather further power until they Roared around the circumference in great Tidal waves of energy that swirled and writhed with a life of their own. Grasping hands swept off the surface to snatch at the shades secreted in their alcoves or scour the walls with blinding radiance, the column bubbled and frothed as its edges began to expand, creeping outwards, Boiling outwards, eating up the shadows that had surrounded the cavern until it filled all the space, all time, all thoughts and visions of everything in the room, filled their tiny minds until they were brim full and began overflowing into other senses and feelings so they could taste the energy, hear the light, feel the silent roar as the magic blasted past them, through them and along them, setting every nerve on fire, singeing every synapse until they crackled.

Malthang felt it build within him, burning him, consuming him from the inside out until he was hollow, a shell, filled with white. His mind was blank, all thought incinerated. Slowly. So slowly. He folded over. Curled up. Hid. Anywhere.
Anywhere away from the white.






Malthang came too. After an eternity of silence, of emptiness, of nothing. He breathed. Air gushed into his lungs, inflating them with life. The life began to spread. He felt feeling return to his skin, heat in his core. His eyes slowly resolved the picture in front of him from one big white blur into one big dark blur. As details began to emerge, he felt his ears pop, like a knuckle cracking, thunder on an empty plain.
Sound returned in a screaming crescendo that battered him relentlessly from every side, moans and gasps rattled around his head as his heart-beat tolled an ominous bell, screams in the distance, pain and misery, but far away where as his blood was bubbling right HERE in his veins, joints creaked and cracked loud as a ship under full sail and breath screamed into his lungs, screaming, screaming, the screaming again. Louder now, closer, agonising. But closer still were the sounds of mad laughter or sharp hisses of pain or the dull smack-thud-whump of fists striking yielding flesh that tore with a rending SHRIEK and sprinkled droplets of blood, but not blood, almost blood, once was blood, on stone, pitter-patter, pitter-patter. But now the Screaming was back, Scream! Now it was the loudest, the closest, he clawed at his eyes to shut it out, at his ears, tore at his clothes, flailed as the desperation grew to shut it up, shut it out, shut it away.

Gone.

Malthang opened his eyes. Took a deep breath. Blinking away the spots that coloured his vision after the white-out, he looked around. His mind had been washed away, overloaded, but someone had hit re-boot. His hand felt warm, he looked down to see it resting on the pommel of a sword, his sword. The hilt shone in the darkness, a deep, electric blue, comforting him with its glow.
Then his mind dropped into gear and Malthang looked up, studying the situation. Details came in a mad rush; down below a figure of smoke and shadow fluttered in the darkness, clashing with glowing red eyes that were set in a body of nothingness, they moved so fast that all the shade could keep track of were shimmering after-images half glimpsed.
And the screaming. Damn. Malthang turned to look behind him. And his blood ran cold. They came in a rush, a horde of monsters of indistinct shape in the gloom, bellowing, braying, screaming. The barrier had called them, the shade new instinctively, had summoned them. Had brought Daemons.
He looked down at the pit, shrouded in darkness now that Varranaithe’s magic had dissipated, brief flashes of movement being glimpsed as somethings duelled below. Then his gaze found a ledge not too far away from his own; sprawled in the shadowed alcove was a shade, flat on his back and unconscious. But somewhere off to his right something stirred, and an elven voice moaned in protest as it regained its somewhat addled senses. Further off in the darkness came the sound of shuffling and thumping, like someone having a fit, Malthang didn’t have time to find out.
His mind running through all the possibilities the shade chose, and acted.

Ok Malthang, that’s your description of what your character has experienced, saw, felt. Sorry for getting carried away, but I use these posts to experiment with my writing and this gave me an opportunity to be a bit whacky XD
So, there’s a pack of demons directly behind you in the tunnel, and for all you know more could be emerging in every one of those shadowed alcoves any minute, what will you do and what do you want the others to do? T’Keela was hit pretty hard, you don’t know how hard, the others you have very little idea about, only what you can gather from my post, good luck!

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Tue Sep 25, 2012 10:55 pm
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Malthang recovered, slamming his mental barriers down on the pain that lingered at the edge of his consciousness, bringing his not inconsiderable mental faculties back to full functionality thanks to a surge of adrenalin. Daemons were approaching from behind him and he couldn't tell what was going on in the pit thanks to the gloom that even his eyes couldn't penetrate with a cursory glance beyond an image more fitting to a story of legend, baleful eyes set in shadow at war with an unseen opponent. He had no choice, he had to act first, think later. Firstly by getting away from the warpspawn that were closing in on him. Then he could deal with the magics that surrounded their mark and made his otherwise peerless, faultless attack fail. He was pissed, really pissed. He would not be denied his payment, not now that he had come so far and risked so much.

He turned and sprang towards the ledge with the unconscious autarii sprawled on it. He would need all the help he could get and if he couldn't rouse the warrior then at least the daemons would have a diversion before they got to him. Hopefully it would buy him a route to ground level to deal with the sorcerer with the magical sword he possessed. It was clearly twinned to some aspect of the creatures being and he intended to use that to his advantage. Plus he should probably check T'Keela wasn't going to...well, expire after having dragged his arse all the way down here. He was welcome to die when the job was done, more money for him!

Malthang is going to leap to the ledge and try to rouse the shade roughly and quickly while trying to determine a way to the floor to confront the sorcerer before the bloodshade dies, leaving Malthang more than a little exposed!

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Thu Oct 11, 2012 11:07 pm
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OOC: Still in, guys! College has just overwhelmed me for the last few weeks.

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


Thu Nov 08, 2012 12:49 am
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ah, TSK's back.
Sorry for the delay, post will be up soon but busy filling in application forms atm

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Fri Nov 16, 2012 8:42 pm
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Hey Guys. I'm sorry to have left you hanging but RL problems that were building up over the autumn have swamped me and I don't have time to run the RP anymore, if anyone wants to take over the story then PM me but at the last count we only had a couple of people active.

Thanks for all the great RPing we've done, I may be back on D.net in the future, but for now, I must fade into the shadows.

Good hunting,
Nathan.

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Sun Mar 31, 2013 4:16 pm
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