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Path of Chaos RPG 
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Welcome to the Path of Chaos RPG.

Before the game starts I would just like to cover a few rules. The post rate will be decided once the game gets under way, but you will all be expected to post at least two times a week. If you start going at a faster pace I will keep that speed flowing with more regular modposts. When posting, use normal, uncoloured white font. As usual, use normal font for narration, bold font and quotation marks for speech and italic font for thoughts. You can attempt to speak directly to the Dark Gods either by thought or actual speech, and they may or may not hear you and decide to respond. Finally, summarise all the action you intend to achieve in the subsequent modpost at the bottom of your post using underlined font. I will always post the results of any dice rolls made on the chaos charts. Also, please try to keep OOC discussion to a minimum, there will be a separate thread for that in the Roleplay Discussion forum.

So, without further ado... let the game begin!



PATH OF CHAOS

Hulr Blackmane had been wandering in the Wastes for what felt like weeks, but he reminded himself that his meagre rations had not yet been expired so it could not have been more than a few days. Time flowed strangely over the Chaos Wastes, something he had grown accustomed to growing up in the Stone Eye Tribe which lived on its border. He had fled the camp after being caught with the chieftains’ daughter, taking what weapons and armour he could gather before he had to leave, with only enough food for a week. Since then he had not seen a single living soul, and not heard any sounds save the treading of his boots and the wailing of the wind. He had no real sense of direction, but he assumed he was still heading North and deeper into the Wastes because the place often had that effect on people, swallowing them up even if they tried to turn back.

Now however, he began to feel a calling, an urge to go in one direction over any other, to explore the hills which lay ahead to his right. Sensing something malign about this sudden instinct, the young marauder took a firm grip on his bastard sword and double checked that the straps on his iron breastplate were done up tight. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect as he neared the brow of the highest hill, and changed his loping climb into a shuffling crouch as to not give himself away. By the time he reached the top of the hill, Hulr was on his belly, crawling across the yellow grass to get a hidden perspective of what lay ahead. What he found himself looking at was a small encampment, where three figures sat on a log facing a roaring campfire with their backs presented to him, some fifty yards down the hill where it narrowed out onto a wide open plain. There was a single tent, its animal skin sides unadorned and unrevealing.

Who or what the three figures seated at the fire were, Hulr could only guess at for the time being.


***

Severous marched through a forest of broken pines, axe in one hand and sword held ready in the other. He couldn’t recall how long he had been walking now, for the days and turned to weeks and then the weeks to months, and beyond that he had lost count and simply continued to move. After leaving the marauder tribe where he had been taken from the Empire, the warrior had quickly learned not to stay in one place too long. The red wolves were out there, always hungry for the lives of lost mortals. He heard them howling at night, baying for his blood. More than once he had found himself under attack, mostly after bumping into other lost spirits who did not take kindly to his approach. He had dealt with them all swiftly and efficiently, and had simply run away from the larger creatures of the Wastes, losing them across the endless stretches of the Chaos North.

The time he had spent wandering had changed him, and when he had last stopped at the side of a river to drink he had noticed his reflection. The man he had once been, born and raised in the Empire, was no more. Now all he saw was a brutish warrior, his long blonde hair tied back to reveal the eight pointed star marked around his right eye. And so he had run again, only this time he had been running from himself. Somehow he had stumbled across a dead forest, which looked like what might be left if a great fire swept through one of the woods in the Empire. A field of pine trunks lay all around him, jagged and burned where they stood broken at waist height. What had made him stop moving however wasn’t the dead trees, but the lack thereof in a small clearing just ahead. Sat in the clearing was a creature, some sort of goblinoid half as tall as himself.

The goblin was crouched on the ground, scratching something with a long sharpened stick.


***

Grollund coughed up a string of sickly mucus as he pushed his way through a meadow of thick bushes, spitting it at a nearby bird. The creature turned to look at him from the low branch it was perched on, and he noticed that most of its face was missing, showing exposed skull and the rotting organ within. The bird flapped its wings and silently departed, its rot infested body giving the warrior new hope that he had at last found what he had been looking for. Since coming to the Wastes an uncertain length of time ago, he had been searching for a place where he could contract more of the great Plague Fathers diseases. Already he was wheezing with a heavy chest infection, but where in his life in Ostermark such a thing would have him bed ridden, he now felt stronger than ever. He clenched his hooked glaive tightly and pushed through the thicket, unsure of what he might find.

The muddy grass underfoot slowly became more wet, until he was pulling himself through a bog at nearly knee height, still shrouded in the thick bushes. He noticed these leaves were rotten, and white mould spread across many of the bushes like fur. He could hear splashing from up ahead, coupled with voices he could not make out or understand. Cautiously, the squat warrior muscled his way through to the point where the bush forest opened up onto twenty yards of stinking swamp, beyond which a steep hill climbed out of the murky waters. Out on the swamp were two hooded men, dressed in moth eaten and mud covered robes. They were standing on a small raft made of rotting timber, and pushing themselves across towards the hill with a long iron pole. Grollund saw the way the flies that buzzed around the marsh were more interested in the pair than they were the water.

Understanding that these two robed strangers were men of Nurgle too, Grollund waited.


***

Bysra Frekisdottr was being followed, and she knew it. At some point during her wandering over the last few days someone or something had picked up on her trail. She had heard the telltale sounds of movement echoing through the valley she had stumbled across several times already, and at one point had even ascended one side of the valley and looked back down its length. In the distance she had seen what looked like a horseman, though what was riding the steed at such great distance she could not say. All she determined was that they would catch up with her within two days, and so she had laid an ambush. She had followed the valley until it turned a suitable corner, and had then spent the morning leaving a false trail moving on down the valley and finding the best hiding place around the blind corner her pursuers would have to come around.

She covered her blood red hair with her shield, even as she crouched in one of several large bush thickets. Sharp thorns were already digging into her flesh, and had opened tiny cuts in some places along her arms. She lay in wait, trying to remember how long it had been since she left Norsca and headed into the Chaos North, driven away by the lust for revenge, the lust for bloodletting. Eventually, her pursuer came into view, and she realised with a start that it was no mere horse and rider after all. The centaur trotted around the curve in the valley, holding a cracked buckler in one hand and a spiked mace in the other, which was coated in a dark red layer of dried on gore. The centaur bore the mark of the Blood God on its tanned chest, burnt into its flesh like a cattle brand. It stopped as it passed in front of her hiding place, taking its eyes off the trail to sniff at the air.

Bysra watched from hiding as the centaur swept its gaze over her side of the valley, then continued to trot away.


***

Severin Ooms wove his way down the side of a great rocky outcrop, like a jagged mountain punching up from the flat plains he had been crossing the day before. Where the mountain came from he could not say, for when he made camp he had been in the middle of the open meadow of tall yellow grass. He had awoken to find himself at the foot of the great mound however, and had taken it upon himself to continue in his intended direction, now straight up towards the mountains peak. The steep mound had been much easier than it had first looked to climb however, and within half a day he found himself suddenly upon a level plain atop it. The illusions of the landscape in the Wastes still baffled him from time to time, and he quickly continued on his way. Descending the far end of the hill seemed to take an eternity longer than climbing it had done, for the rocks were loose and treacherous.

As he finally neared the bottom of the unusual mound, he leaned on a sharp rock which jutted out of the ground at an unusual angle and turned back to look at it. From this side, the slope looked like a gentle hill almost not worth thinking about, save for the floating rocks. Great pillars of jagged rock floated above the shallow hill like clouds, and as he watched Ooms saw blue lightning crackling between them, occasionally striking down at the hill he had just crossed. He hadn’t even realised it was raining, but now the sky was pelting him with ice cold droplets of red precipitation. He looked ahead once more, and on the plain below the illusionary hill he could see a small campfire. He realised with a start it was the circle of stones he had gathered the night before, on the other side of the great mound.

The figure that lay sleeping at the camp looked distinctly familiar, dressed in leather armour and carrying two long swords.


Wed Jan 04, 2012 7:05 pm
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Bysra has been trekking for more sunrises than she could be bothered to count. Seasons meant nothing in a place like the Wastes and it was easy to lose yourself. Not Bysra, since she had no predetermined destination, driven only by the will to survive and a desire for revenge.

Her sharp hearing picked up the sound of a single rider. A tracker from her old clan perhaps, here to slay her for her insubordination? She had to know for sure. At an arc in the trail, she hid herself from view to determine the exact nature of the threat.

Through the thorns and leaves, Bysra could soon see it was no rider following her - it was a Centaur, a fierce creature from the wilds, its steps preceded by the telltale scent of strong ale. As it passed her position, her eyes were drawn to the Mark on its chest. No mere warrior, then, but a champion of the very God she had sworn an oath to battle. Had the nature of the foe been any different, Bysra would have used her cover to her advantage - she was no fool. But for a victory over this beast to have any meaning, she would have to face it head on, without the use of caution or trickery. And so, she brazenly stepped out of the brush, raising her axe and roaring a wordless challenge.

Bysra charges the centaur, ducking forward at the very last moment to take a sweep at its legs.

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Vryala Naïlo - WS5 / S5 / T5 / D5 / I4

Equipment: bastard sword of Speed, shield of Defence, repeater (20/20), spear, mace, dagger, Armour of Night, SDC, whip, blowpipe (9/12)
Inventory: amulet of Strength, grapple, grenade x0, smoke x11, map, mage hand, sleep oil x8, cure balms x20, Yori's balms x1, winter gear, old kit, lion mask
Mount: Dark Steed (Blanky), barding, talisman of Protection
Gold: 1735
Skills: Defensive Fighting, Anarin Sarath (2), Basic Ride
Class: Warrior


Wed Jan 04, 2012 8:40 pm
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Severous stared long at his refection. He had heard that the wastes changed a person, aside from his tattoo, Severous had grown pale, which only served to accentuate the black tattoo. This was his life now, going home was out of the question, so his only path was the one in front of his foot. His fate was at the whim of the Gods, be they Chaos or other.
He looked up and continued forward. Eventually the trees grew more sparse, and then he came upon a clearing where a lone goblinoid was crouching, poking something.
Goblins are cowards, they are never alone, wherever there is one, there are bound to be more in hiding...

Not taking any chances, Severous began to scope out the area a little. There was not much that could hide out this open space, but if goblins were one thing it was that they were good at hiding.

Severous will look around too see if there are any other goblins apparent. If there are, he will attack the hiding goblins, if not he will sneak up on the crouching goblin and see what he is poking.

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Fiat Obsidian - WS5 / S5 / T4 / D5 / I4
Equipment: Halberd, Zukhil Shield, Bastard Sword, Heavy Armour, Seadragon Cloak, Helmet of Slaanesh, Blackthorn Dagger
Mount: Locke (dark steed)
Gold: 488
Skills: Supernatural Awareness, Defensive Fighting, Intimidate, Drukh Kaganth (1)
Class: Warrior


Wed Jan 04, 2012 9:17 pm
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As Hulr searched across the waists time held no meaning but Hulr pushed farther and farther north with his sword and axe in hand, but as he marched he felt this sudden pull to the north east. Hulr couldn’t explain the feeling drawing him on this path it was like sirens song guiding him up the. As hulr scaled the hill he crouched low to the ground weapons at the ready. But as he came to the crest of the hill he lay flat on the ground and studied the small camp at the bottom of the hill. There were only 3 figures by the fire and one large tent. Hulr was suspicious and decided he had to get a closer look, he sheathed his bastard sword across his back and switched his hand axe to his right hand then slowly got back in to a crouch and started to warily descend the hill trying to take cover in the longer grass.

Hurl will descend the hill to get a closer look and over hear anything the three might be saying,

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Thu Jan 05, 2012 1:29 am
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The image of the figure laying there stunned him. He crunched down and looked around.
He raised himself to look again, just to confirm what he actually saw.
Could it be?
With unsertain steps he slowly walked towards the figure, but his mind could not rest.
Are the Gods puniching him?, have the Gods sent him to afterlife?

He tried to sharp his senses, to get a hold of reality, but he only noticed that the rain bothered him much more than before.
He continued to down.....slowly

With unsertain steps and a restless mind, he moves towards the sight that he sees

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Khitai - Khanite - Group 38
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Skills: Ambidexterity, Two Weapon Fighting
Equipment: 2xfine scimitars, dagger
Inventory: Gold 30, Crowns 40, 1 Red ruby


Thu Jan 05, 2012 12:39 pm
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Grollund giggled wheezily at the blight-bird glided away, the beautiful little creation of the great father was enough to set his feet moving faster through the bushes and brambles. Slowly the ground below him began to get more slippery and Grollund had to fight to keep his balance, untill the dirt gave way even further and his feet became anchored in the deep mud of a bog. His face split into a toad-like grin, Grollund had found great new appreciation for bogs since the start of his pilgrimage, they were warm and damp and contained many little hosts, natures gift to his lord's creations.

Scattering millions of happy floating spores Grollund pushed his way out of the gloriously fetund bush forest and into the marsh proper, a good twenty yards or so before a hillock ruined the perfection, and noticed another pair of travellers going along thier way. Grollund need only eye the pair and thier rotten vessel for a moment to tell that they were his people, wading through the deepening mud toward the raft he hacked up a globlet of mucus and called out, "hello there friends, fancy giving a fellow pilgrim a lift?"

taking in the scenery and hitching

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Thu Jan 05, 2012 10:54 pm
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Bysra stepped out from behind the thorned bush where she had lay her ambush, and raised her axe in mighty challenge. The centaur had just started to trot down the path in the valley again when it sensed her coming and turned back around to face her, growling a deep reverberation as its anger and bloodlust began to rise. The creature levelled its spiked mace at her and brought its buckler up ready to meet her charge, as the female Khornate marauder charged down the hill and prepared to strike. At the last moment, she ducked under the sweep of its mace and lashed out at its hoofed legs with her axe. The centaur was fast on its feet however, and where a rider may not have been able to move its mount in time from such an attack, the centaur hopped over her sweeping axe and sprang forwards.

The centaur sprang around her, simultaneously delivering a downwards backward chop with its heavy mace, aimed for the back of her head.


***

Severous froze amidst the forest of broken pines, watching the one goblin whilst listening out for more, before casting his gaze about in search of any other hiding creatures. He knew that goblins often moved in packs, but he could sense no other creature nearby. He slowly crept forwards and approached the raving goblinoid, which was too busy rambling and etching stuff into the ground with its stick to even register him coming closer. The marauder kept his axe and sword ready as he loomed above the demented creature and tried to catch a glimpse of what it was writing. Suddenly the little thing rounded on him, its eyes alight with eldritch fire as it babbled a stream of nonsense about the coming gathering of the Gods champions, thrusting its sharpened stick for his gut over and over again like a frenzied child.

Severous hopped back and kept the goblin at bay, preparing to strike it down as it continued trying to impale him on its stick.


***

Hulr watched as the three dark haired figures sat about their campfire for a moment, examining their strange pointed tent and their dark armour. Each of them was holding a long, cruelly barbed spear upright beside themself, and they conversed in an unusual but harsh tongue. The Slaaneshi warrior began to silently descend the hill behind them, trying to catch on to the meaning of their words but understanding nothing, hearing only the sharp sting of unknown words. The nearer he got, the more he understood about the three wanderers. They were not men, that much he could be sure. They were too tall and lithe, their armour too fine and jagged, their weapons too unusual in appearance. He stopped about as close as he dared to venture, and then waited in silence for a few moments. Then, one of the three got to his feet and planted his spear in the ground, before seperating himself from the group to releive himself.

The dark haired, fair skinned elf wandered straight towards where Hulr was hiding in the long grass, his expression fixed as one of cruelty.


***

Ooms steadily approached the familiar campsite, but as he got closer he saw the figure laying there stir and get up. He watched as the man gathered his belongings and stamped out the flames, before taking off in the direction of the flat plain that lay all around them. Ooms continued to approach, eventually moving into the camp once the unusually familiar looking figure had dissapeared from sight. He looked around, recognising each and every detail of the camp as if it were his own. A sudden breeze reminded him how cold he was, and the cold reminded him just how tired he had become. The Tzeentchian marauder took a few moments to stoke the dying embers of the campfire back to life, and then curled up beside the fire to rest. When next he opened his eyes, seemingly having fallen asleep, his surroundings had changed somewhat considerably.

Before him stood a great rocky outcrop, like a jagged mountain punching up from the flat plains he had been crossing the day before. Where the mountain came from he could not say, for when he made camp he had been in the middle of the open meadow of tall yellow grass. The illusions of the landscape in the Wastes still baffled him from time to time, and he got to his feet and gathered his things, remembering that he was for some reason supposed to be heading north, the direction in which the great mountain now stood. He looked up at it, filled with the desire to continue on his way and to climb the great mountain regardless of its sheer face and the powerful overhead storm. Lightning struck the peak of the great mound like the tendrils of Tzeentch himself.

Despite the feeling of de-ja-vu, the feeling that he had already done so a thousand times before, Ooms continued on his way.


***

Grollund called out from the shore of the filthy mire, and successfully got the attention of the two disease ridden things upon the mould ridden raft. They turned about, watching him from beneath their deep hoods with unseen eyes for a moment, and then turned about and began to drag their raft back to shore. As they got closer, the Nurglite marauder could see that the Plague Father had blessed them both considerably. The voyager who was not pushing the raft with the long iron pole extended a gnarled hand in offering, and Grollund allowed himself to be pulled onboard. It wasn't until they were halfway across the swamp however, that Grollund noticed the heap of skeletons on the other side, where the hill rose up out of the mire. Some of them still had some scraps of flesh, and the flies and crows were feasting upon them. The raft had set a course straight for the bodies, and for the rusted guillitine that stood on the shore beside them.

He took a sidelong glance at the plague driver, who grinned at him with blackened teeth and rotting gums, and suddenly understood their intentions with him.

***

Karl Zunra had been lost in the Wastes for far too long, and although he had come across many others in that time and defeated them all, he had not seen anyone at all for what felt like weeks. As far as he knew he was still heading north, but he knew from experience how the Chaos landscape sometimes robbed a man of his senses. For all he knew he wasn't walking north at all, but performing large circles much to the amusement of the Dark Gods. Every now and then he stumbled across a small stream and stopped to drink and refill his water skin, every time confirming his suspicion that he had seen the place already. On this occasion however, he was no longer alone when he approached the small, shallow stream.

There was another warrior, no doubt another rising follower of the Chaos Gods, who didn't appear to bare any particular mark of a single patron God. He was crouched down cupping water in his hands, a long braided black ponytail running the length of his back, his ears peirced with the claws of small animals. At Karls approach, the other marauder stopped drinking and sniffed at the air, his right hand instinctively reaching down to the spiked mace he had lay down to drink. He grunted as he rose to his feet and turned to face Karl, glaring at him with a piercing red gaze. Instantly Karl could see that this man was already blessed by the Gods, and the eight pointed star was tattooed across his entire face.

Karl tensed up and gripped his blade in anticipation, still standing ten yards away from the stream and the other marauder.



Sat Jan 07, 2012 3:09 pm
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The goblin turned and attacked. Severous could only understand some of the babble it was muttering, but he didnt have time to decipher it, he needed to defend himself.
It only had a sharpened stick, but nothing was as it seemed in the chaos wastes. He quickly tried to parry away the stick.

Severous will try to parry away the stick with his sword and then cleave the goblin with his axe.

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Fiat Obsidian - WS5 / S5 / T4 / D5 / I4
Equipment: Halberd, Zukhil Shield, Bastard Sword, Heavy Armour, Seadragon Cloak, Helmet of Slaanesh, Blackthorn Dagger
Mount: Locke (dark steed)
Gold: 488
Skills: Supernatural Awareness, Defensive Fighting, Intimidate, Drukh Kaganth (1)
Class: Warrior


Sat Jan 07, 2012 4:46 pm
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The Centaur's size belied its agility; deftly evading Bysra's strike it turned right back round for a vicious counterattack. Luckily, she saw it coming just in time, but would probably still need all her strength to block the spiked mace.

Bysra will swing her shield up to block the mace, and tries to use this motion to lash out with her axe in the same instant, aiming for the Centaur's wrist.

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Vryala Naïlo - WS5 / S5 / T5 / D5 / I4

Equipment: bastard sword of Speed, shield of Defence, repeater (20/20), spear, mace, dagger, Armour of Night, SDC, whip, blowpipe (9/12)
Inventory: amulet of Strength, grapple, grenade x0, smoke x11, map, mage hand, sleep oil x8, cure balms x20, Yori's balms x1, winter gear, old kit, lion mask
Mount: Dark Steed (Blanky), barding, talisman of Protection
Gold: 1735
Skills: Defensive Fighting, Anarin Sarath (2), Basic Ride
Class: Warrior


Sat Jan 07, 2012 7:28 pm
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Like the fine, upstanding nurglites they were the robed men poled thier way over and offered Grollund a hand onto thier raft, which he accepted with an appreciative nod. As they continued along thier original course it became apparent what the perpous of the hill was, Grollund looked across at one of the hooded Nurglites who smiled at him and he returned the gesture with a wide, toadlike grin of his own, such nice people, taking a me to see thier altar even though they don't know me, I suppose it might be a bit arrogant but it is no sin to take pride in the lords work. It's almost a pity I'll have to kill them. Grollund checked his grip on the weapon he had stolen all those weeks ago and laid back to wait out the short voyage.

Grollund will wait till the raft has just about reached shore and hook the hooded stranger holding the iron pole into the mire with his guisarme, then smack thier head into the mud with the haft, he will then switch the the weapon around and slash at the seccond hood's belly, before hopping gracefully to shore. Probably. Mebey. Hopefully. Yeah...

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Sat Jan 07, 2012 10:51 pm
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The second stream seemed very similar to the first, thought Karl. He refilled his skin however, and quickly drank. He could not see the sun through the clouds, and the stars had been kept from him for many nights. He was not sure where he was. The Wastes of course, and no matter where you were there, your we just as likely to not really be there, but still. He ignored such thoughts, he was a wanderer, and such roaming gave him time to think.

Would the gods, as they were really waste time sending him in circles? Probably, for they were very strange sometimes, but power is strange, and god like power must be even stranger, he mused. He knew the Arch-Four and their many names, but he accepted that he would never fully understand them, or their reasons for their involvement with him or any other. They had power though, and so Karl followed them and lived for them. Better that then stay in a village and die in a cold lonely bed.

He was at a stream again, and there sat that boulder again, almost mockingly. What games were being played? He felt the strong iron strapped across his back, its weight offering him some reassurance. He drank again, filling his skin as before, and headed off, keeping that boulder in mind. It had been many a day since he had seen a living soul, or unliving, as the Wastes sometimes had it. What did that mean? He had killed and survived all these long years, meeting and seeing strange things, that were both terrible and wonderful at the same time. This was new, this emptiness, this change. it was interesting.

As soon as he grew to like it however, some savage intruded on his stillness. The Gods oh so loved their games. Next to that smug boulder stood a man, similar to Karl. They were both clearly of strong Norse stock, and both followers of Chaos. This warrior also appeared to have no affinity with any particular one. He carried a mace. His leather would offer little protection, but his sword would have the greater reach. All this, Karl saw in a moment.

He saw the branding on the warriors face, and the glint in his eyes. A space still separated them. Before the savage could do anything, Karl spoke in a booming voice. I am Karl Zunra, wanderer of the Wastes, follower of the Dark Gods. Come with me fellow servant of the Great Four, and we shall make bloody ruin in their names. Or face me now, and let the Gods decide who shall live. He drew his Great Sword, pounding his leather clad chest with his fist. His braided beard bristled, as he stood ready, for whatever would happen. If the gods were indeed watching, he would display his might to them.

Karl will wait to see how the man reacts. If he wishes to join Karl, then he will demand a blood oath under the names of the gods. If the savage wishes to fight, Karl will aim to keep him out of the range of his mace, using the end of his great sword to cut away at the man, bleeding him slowly with many wounds.

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Phalx Tr'dasr – WS5 / S4 / T4 / D5 / I4
Equipment: Deathspitter (5/20) 4 of these poisoned (1/2x QD, 3xSD), short sword, dagger, punching dagger (Bloodthirst Rune), shade cloak, full leather armour
Inventory: thieves tools, torches x3, healing balms x5, rope and grapple, Vikarh map, dice, winter gear, orc tusk,
Mount: Dark Steed
Gold: 5829
Skills: Basic Stealth, Precision Fire, Basic Ride, Frenzy, Ambidexterity,Suithenlu Khythan (1): SP2
Class: Shade
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Sun Jan 08, 2012 11:53 pm
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Hulr watched as one of the fingers left the fire and started walking towards his direction, Hulr laid flat on the ground hiding in the taller grass absolutely motionless barley letting himself breathe as the stranger approached Hulr griped his axes tightly as the finger stopped several feet away from Hulr. He saw the look of cruelty on its face and decided that it would be a glorious tribute to his god to battle such a fair creature but there is no glory dying facing tree of them, so Hulr decided the glory would half to wait. Hulr waited for the being to walk back to the fire before crawling towards the tent.

Hulr will wait till the druchii walks back to the fire then slowly skulk towards the tent Hulr will listen for movement in the tent if there is none he will cut his way in with his axe as quietly as possible.

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Mon Jan 09, 2012 4:15 am
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OOC: long days at work and still here, so just post a short one so we can move on

IC:
When he reach the camp, the figure he had seen before was gone, but still in his mind. He he threw some more wood on the fire to get it going again and then he went to sleep.
Ooms woke up not in the same place he had gone to sleep , and he was disorientated and unsertain what was going on, but he was sure the Gods had a hand in all of this.

Ooms had set his mind to move north, so he didn't linger and moved on. The weather was not on his side hitting him in the face like whips, but Ooms was a hardy man and the weather would never set him back reaching his goal.

Ooms moves north, not letting the terrain or weather hold him back

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Mon Jan 09, 2012 9:27 pm
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Severous was almost right on top of the goblin when it span around, rambling and raging and stabbing at his gut with its makeshift spear. He instinctively hopped back out of range, and then swept his sword down to break the stick in two. The goblin came closer, still rambling about the coming gathering of the Chaos champions, and got an axe buried in its chest for its brash action. A moment later, the marauder kicked the dying fiend from his weapon in a shower of black blood, and stepped over its trembling corpse to see what it had been writing. On the ground, repeated over and over and over again, was his name. The marauder shook his head in disbeleif, and took a wary step back away from the now dead goblin. He looked left and right, as if expecting some sorceror to ambush him at any moment, but knew deep down that he was out there on his own.

It was only when he stepped back and regarded the etchings as a whole that he realised the tiny names formed together into a larger symbol, depicted in the cold earth amidst the forest of broken pines. It looked like the eight pointed star of Chaos, only with its north and north-eastern tips broken away as leave jagged ended lines rather than arrows. The star was incomplete, with only six points instead of eight, but another arrow had also been scratched into the ground by the possessed goblin. This arrow stood alone from the symbol of Chaos, pointing to the east. Severous stepped in again and looked closely, confirming what he had seen the first time, that every small detail of the symbol and arrow was actually his name etched into the dirt.


***

Bysra almost took the centaurs legs out from under it, but the Khornate horseman deftly leaped over her sweep and passed her, bringing his gore soaked mace down for the back of her head. Instinct drove her to throw herself about, her shield smashing into the mace and turning it aside even as it jarred her arm. Her sword came around after though, shearing through the creatures weapon arm at the wrist. The centaur howled in fury and pain and reared up, attempting to kick her for the injury she had inflicted. She darted to the side, and then plunged her sword into the creatures exposed underbelly, before tearing her blade out and rolling away to one side. Even as the centuar fell down towards her and died, it hurled its buckler at her and tried to reach out and clasp its hand about her throat. She stepped back and let the creature fall.

In the moments after the fight, the Khornate marauder instinctively began to check the weapons and wargear of the dead centaur to see if they could be of use to her. She noticed the broken buckler laying face down on the grassy valley floor, and kicked it to flip it over. The stained red wood was marked by an iron eight pointed star, only the weapon had been dealt a large notch, no doubt by an axe blow. Now the star bore only six points. She turned back towards the centaur to see if his mace would be of use, and then noticed that where he had died reaching for her throat, he now lay with his finger outstretched, pointing out of the valley to the west.


***

Grollund was almost at the other bank of the river of filth when he made his move, having realised the Nurglite executioners were taking him towards their alter of death and decay. With a sudden and unexpected twist of his hooked glaive, he gutted the first of the hooded riders and sent him sprawling off the small raft into the water. He plunged the blade into the man even as he hit the water, and then span around to slash at the other, who was just pulling a rusted dagger on him from behind. The mad Nurglite cackled as the glaive swept through his wrists, cutting off both his hands, and sent him stumbling back off the raft and into the filth. The brief fight was followed by a moment of silence, and then the ominous sound of creaking wood, followed by splintering.

Grollund barely jumped off the raft and onto the shore in time, for as he did so the wood gave way under their struggle and the beams split and fell apart. The Nurglite stood on the shore and watched the water, looking for any sign of either of the robed plague monks to resurface, but instead witnessed what he assumed to be a sign from the Gods themselves. The eight splintered beams of the rottng raft floated around on the surface of the mire, and slowly formed up into the shape of the Chaos star. The planks held their position only long enough for him to register it, and then two of the beams continued to float around, breaking away from the star and instead forming an arrow, which pointed in the direction behind him, over the hill he had just reached.


***

Karl offered the other marauder the oppertunity to join him, but the brute just laughed like a maniac and took a few steps forwards, levelling his mace in challenge. Karl sighed and readied his longsword, and a moment later the two met in a clash of blades. Karl span and circed around the other warrior, cutting away at him one nick at a time whilst using his superior reach to avoid being hit, save a glancing blow the brute landed to his leg. Then eventually, Karl saw his opening and leaped in closer, driving his blade up at the blessed marauders' head in a diagonal sweep. The mace connected with his shoulder and knocked him off his feet in the same instant, and he rolled across the floor for a moment, unsure of the fate of his opponent.

When he forced himself up, Karl stalked back over to the downed marauder and saw that his slash had indeed been effective. So much so in fact, that he had ended the marauders life by shearing off the top portion of his skull at a diagonal angle, exposing the bloody purple brain matter within. Karl noticed that where the mans face had been tattooed with the eight pointed star of chaos, it had now been reduced to a six pointed icon. The marauder thought nothing of it, and turned to looting the dead marauder and refilling his water skin from the river. It was only when he was kneeling to drink that he noticed the brute had carved something into the boulder before they had done battle. It was an arrow, and it pointed away towards the south.


***

Hulr stayed silent and still within the tall grass on the hillside until the Druchii had finished his business and was walking back towards the camp where his two comrades waited. The Slaaneshi marauder then began to creep forwards, stopping in his tracks every time the wind might take the sound of his steps to the keen ears of the elves, but thanking his patron deity that the wind was moving the opposite way, masking his sounds. He made it all the way down to the edge of the flat plain, where the long grass began to give way to the shorter, sparser yellow growth and then give out all together, to where the Druchii camp was made upon the dirt. The elves were not looking when Hulr made his move, sneaking across the open ground and approaching the back of their tent. It was a miracle they didn't turn and see him, as though some greater power wanted him to succeed.

When he heard no sounds coming from within, Hulr cut his way into the back of the strange tent and then crept inside. Within he found a few unusual swords and shields, clearly crafted for beings with more height than himself. He turned around, intending to check the entrance flap of the tent to peer out and see what the three elves were doing now, but instead came face to face with one of them. The Druchii sneered at him, and spat something vicious in its vile tongue, before lunging at him with a barbed spear. Hulr could do nothing but roll back away from the blow and exit the tent through the tear he had created. Even so, the barbed spear caught him on the ear and he hissed in pain. He watched as one of his eight pointed star earrings was cut loose from his lobe, now reduced to a six pointed symbol.

The silver icon hit the ground, stained red with his blood, and he jumped back further as the spear came thrusting out of the tent once more aimed for his face. This time he was ready for it, and he swept his blade up and cut the wooden haft of the weapon in two. The elf came through the gap a moment later, spitting vile words at the Slaaneshi, but he buried his sword in its chest and kicked it back into the tent with a grunt of effort. Hulr had no time to retrieve his broken earring, the image of the six pointed star still fresh in his mind, as he saw the other two Druchii running over from the campfire, spears held ready to impale him. He took another look at the black tent, noticing for the first time the purple runes sewn into its fabric. The nearest one looked like an arrow, pointing to his right, to the west. It was also the direction that would take him away from the charging Druchii.


***

Ooms shrugged off the feeling of de-ja-vu as he followed his instinctive urge to go north, somewhat unable to recall just why he was doing so. The mountain loomed above him, but as he began to ascend its side the climb narrowed out, and he realised the illusion of a steep, perilous face he had seen from the ground was not at all correct. Before he knew it he was on top of the mighty mound, walking along its flat surface below a storm of floating rocks, each a jagged spire that drifted like a cloud in the air above the hillock. Flashes of blue lightning danced between the sky rocks, and Ooms once again felt as though he had seen such things before, but could not recall where. The day before he had been upon the flat plain to the south, heading north for some reason, some reason he could not longer recall.

He passed a jagged rock, which jutted up from the flat hill seemingly at random, making it hard for his eyes to avoid. He noticed with uncaring eyes that the rock almost formed an eight pointed star, save that it was missing its last two arrows. Etched into the rock was an arrow pointing south, but Ooms had no time to consider and dwell on such things, for he had to carry on moving north. He just couldn't remember why. Before long, he was making his way down the other face of the mountain, and then marching across the flat plain beyond. When he looked back, there was no mountain, just a flat plain of dusty sand and the floating skyrocks, each bearing the eye of Tzeentch. Must keep heading north he told himself, and thus the endless cycle began again.

He crossed the flat plain, and soon came upon a camp. The man that lay sleeping at the camp looked awfully familiar, but as Ooms approached the figure rose and put out his fire, before walking off across the plain towards the north. Ooms made it into the camp just in time to salvage what was left of the fire, stoking the embers back into a flickering blue flame. He had grown weary from his treck across the... plains, that's right, he had been heading north across the flat plains. He turned back to watch the man who had left the camp again, but found that he was nowhere to be seen. A strange sense of de-ja-vu filled him, but he ignored it and gave in to his weariness, laying down beside the fire and falling asleep.

When he awoke, Ooms was no longer on the flat plain. Now a massive mountain loomed above him to the north, blocking his way forwards. And yet he knew he had to just keep on going north...


Mon Jan 09, 2012 10:39 pm
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Severous looked over the deranged scribblings.
I know... if there is one thing I have learned it is that the Dark Gods work in mysterious ways... everything has a meaning. Why me? I am rather new to the Chaos Wastes? are what the tribesmen said true? Are the Gods watching me... did my betrayal just attract their attention?

He pondered for awhile, uneasy about his name being scribbled all over the ground. And was it it unfinished? Why was the North, North East points incomplete? Did Severous stumble upon the goblin before it could finish?
No...
He reminded himself, everything here happens for a reason...
Having no where else to go, he looked to the east. He didn't like being guided by unseen powers like this, and in his frustration he kicked the dirt and dust around, ruining the scribblings.

Severous kicks the dust and dirt around, desecrating what the goblin wrote, then looked east and starts to walk in that direction.

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Tue Jan 10, 2012 1:27 am
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The shield proved too sturdy for the Centaur to bust through; Bysra's axe now free to exact all kinds of gory retribution. The paw went first, then its entrails - howling madly, the blessed monster made for one last charge in its God's name, yet Bysra would have none of it. Batting off the throttling grip of the dying beast with her axe blade, she screamed her victory to the red skies; the slaying of this Champion a challenge to Khorne himself.

It appeared the Gods had noticed, which filled Bysra with a strange kind of anticipation. No matter the outcome of her journey, she had already attained more glory than she could have ever hoped for. The corpse was telling her to go westwards, whatever that meant in this place. She was fine with that, of course, but not without some nice battle trophies by which to remember this destined day.

Bysra takes the centaur's bloody mace. She also chops off the creature's head, intending to flay it down to the bone and use the skull as a helmet. Lastly, harvest some meat for the road ahead and make for the west!

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Tue Jan 10, 2012 6:09 pm
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Karl, sighed. He had never come across a Savage willing to talk. Yes bloodthirstyness was good, but the Gods would surely prefer i they went after those who didn't follow them, instead of always infighting? He chuckled slightly, how could he puzzle the Gods?

He moved around the barbarian, his beard flicking with speed, as he nicked the warrior with the tip of his Greatsword. This carried on for a few moments, as he cut away at the brute. He got a slight hit on the knee, and Karl knew he would have a nice rosy bruise later for it. The branded fool was soon bleeding for a dozen wounds, his breath becoming labored, as his strength dripped from him, making toe river stones bloody.

He saw his moment. It was not a perfect attack, for the mace hit him on the shoulder as he passed. His leather took some of the blow, but he still stumbled. If his attack hadn't hit he wouldn't have time to move. He rolled away, stream water a sudden cold shock to his battle fired body. He shock water from his dark braided beard, cold trickles running over his bare head. He was head though. The brute savage had died. He got to his feet, his great balde trickling blood and water into the stream.

With a roar he shouted at the heavens. He was alive and his foe lay slain, the gods had blessed him this day. He quickly went to the now cooling corpse, and quickly began to searching him for anything of value. He washed his face in the stream, sipping some of the water, letting its cool freshness trickle down beneath his patched leathers.

He noticed the once mocking boulder then. An arrow pointing south. He looked where it pointed, seemed like as good a place to go as any. First of all he had to do a few things, using a knife he had taken from his fallen foe he went to work.

Karl will carved, the eight pronged star of Chaos into the boulder, using the south pointing arrow as a starting point. This done he will smear as much of his fallen foes blood on the boulder, and leave his cleaved head in the center of the star carved into it. Once he has completed his ritual offering, he will head south.

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Tue Jan 10, 2012 7:41 pm
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As the raft closed in on the shore Grollund grinned at the hooded poler again, then jabbed his glaive forward and brought it back catching it's hook in the nurglite's flesh and hauling him past Grollund into the murk. Finishing the nurglite off with a blind stab through the mud, Grollund span on the spot glaive extended and removed the hands of the second stranger, who had been advancing on his unprotected back. Grollund watched his fellow pilgrim stumble backward off the raft, an ecstatic smile fixed on his face, and then stood in silence for a moment still tense from the fight.

CRACK

Grollund heard the sound and his stomach dropped. Without a thought for whether or not he would actually reach the shore, Grollund leapt clear of the collapsing raft. From dry land he turned and watched the splintered remains of the nurglite vessel floated to the surface and drifted into the unmistakeable shape of the hallowed star. Grollund giggled into a coughing fit at the sign from the heavens and when he looked up again he saw that the wood had moved apart and formed what looked like a rough arrow, he looked over his shoulder at where the arrow pointed and saw nothing but the corpse-strewn rise up to the guillotine-topped hill. Bitterly he thought a decade of service to that hammer-swinging, brutish fraud and nothing to show for it but a meagre existence in shanty town, A few weeks working in the name of the rot father and I'm already getting portents. It's a pity my self preservation has stolen the lord's sacrifice, it would be the right thing to do to deliver another in my place - or perhaps two others. With that thought he thrust his arms into the mire and started rooting about.

Grollund will attempt to find one or both of the nurglite's in the marsh, then offer the corpses up to Nurgle through guillotine-based beheading. After the gorier work is done he will head in the direction of the arrow.

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Tue Jan 10, 2012 9:17 pm
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Hulr snuck in to the tent add looked at the surrounding armour and other wired items, after a few moments before he was greeted by the snarling face of one of the guards. Hulr jumped back from a spear thrust to the face and dove out of the tent but not before being nicked by the spear.

Hulr felt a sharp pain in his ear as the spear tip greased him shearing through one of his earrings. He hissed at the cut in both pain and pleasure as he switched him his axe back to his left hand and drew his sword, as the guard came through the hole in the tent wall he trusted his spear at Hulr face but Hulr was ready bringing axe up cutting the shaft in half, And trusting his sword in to his chest. Hulr looked deep into the face of the elf as the life fled from his eyes, ad kicked the body backwards as he drew his sword from the corps.

Hulr looked at the severed earing seeing the chaos star now had 6 pointed instead of 8. Hulr looked back at the tent and for the first time saw the runes painted on the sides, and saw what he believed to be an arrow head pointing west; noticing the two other guards running at him Hulr had no time to contemplate the gods sings so he ran west as hard as his feet would carry him.

Hulr will fun west trying to lose the two elves

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Thu Jan 12, 2012 2:48 am
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OOC - Assani has dropped out unfortunately, which also means the signs pointing to the number six are no longer relevant. We will just have to pretend you all saw a five pointed Chaos Star. Let's just assume Ooms didn't have the willpower to turn around and turn south, and has been eternally trapped in Tzeentchs' little repeating journey. (I hope you got what was going on there :lol: )

IC -

Severous wanted to leave no trace of the goblins' crazed drawings in the dirt, from the five pointed star to the arrow pointing east. All of it was his name, and he didn't stop kicking the dirt until it was completely removed. He knew it could only be a sign from the Gods, and thus decided to follow the course they had laid out for him. He began a long march to the east, and for days he found nothing, leaving the dead forest and heading out onto a flat plain which was broken here and there by hills. Something was pulling him to the east however, and so on he marched, ever vigilant.

Bysra stopped over the corpse of the centaur for many hours, taking its broken five-pointed star buckler as a prize as well as flaying its skull and carving it up into ration strips. When at last she was done defiling the dead creature, she took another look at its outstretched pointing finger to confirm that it was indeed telling her to go west. Taking this as a sign from Khorne, Bysra scaled the sheer side of the valley and looked down on the vast grassland expanse beyond. Far in the west, lightning crackled above a red sky, beckoning her forth.

Karl looked down at the face of his latest foe, admiring the way he had shorn away the side of his head to leave only one eye, reducing the eight pointed star tattooed there to just five. He bent down and severed the head from the body, and then carried it over to the boulder where an arrow had been carved, pointing to the south. He drew a blade and spent an hour extending the scratched lines, forming a complete Chaos Star to appease the Gods for destroying one. He stuck the head in the middle and covered it in blood, before turning south and following the course of the river.

Grollund returned to the waters edge and waited for the now handless robed plague monk to resurface, splashing and screaming in splutters of bile and filthy water. The Nurglite waded into the river, knowing that the other monk was well and truly dead, and dragged his wounded victim to the shore and up the side of the hill beyond to the alter. He forced the man to kneel over the rusted guillitene and look down on the pile of heads on the edge of the marsh, each no doubt an offering he had made in service to the Plague God. His final offering was his own, for Grollund left his head rolling down the hill as he turned and continued on his way.

Hulr hissed in pain as his silver earring was cut away, and then noticed the arrow shaped rune on the side of the Druchii tent. He had managed to slay one of the evil creatures, but the other two were now running over from the camp and he knew that he was both outnumbered and outmatched. With a prayer to Slaanesh for the swiftness of a seeker, Hulr began to sprint away from the charging elves. He headed out onto the flat, cracked clay desert that lay ahead in all directions. He didn't stop, and he didn't look back, and somehow he didn't grow tired. Eventually, Hulr was sure the elves had lost him and slowed down, continuing in the same direction at his usual pace.



For some of them, the journey took only a day. For others, it took them several weeks. All that seemed to matter was the fact that all five of them converged on the same place at the same time, appearing over the hills surrounding an almost circular crater in the ground. The crater was so big that even as they stood and looked at one another, the marauders were barely within earshot and looked like shadowy silhouettes. They noticed at once that they formed the five points of a star, or a pentagram. It was a portent from the Dark Gods, that much they knew. But the question they all asked themselves was not why had they been brought to this place... but what for?


Down in the middle of the crater, a monstrous bipedal creature lifted its horned head and sniffed at the air, flexing its muscular arms in anticipation.


Thu Jan 12, 2012 9:07 pm
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Damn the Gods and Damn my fate... Thought Severous.
He was a fatalist, and though he did not like the situation he had been put in, he followed his new gods with little resistance other then the occasional curse or blaspheme.

He stared down at a monstrous creature, the first living thing he had seem in days since killing that goblin. Well, the first thing after the other four warriors surrounding the beast. Who were they? Some sported obvious devotions to their gods, while a couple were more subtle. Severous knew nothing of these warriors, but he had the feeling that he soon would.
The Gods work in mysterious ways... He mused but are predictable in what they expect...

To gain favor with his new gods, he drew his weapons and charged towards the beast. If this was a competition, a meeting arrangement or a test, he knew not, but what he did know was that the beast infront of his should die.

With a cry to the Dark Gods, Severous charges down. Drawing the beasts attention, he plans to feint his direct charge, but slide underneath the beast and hack at its leg or knees.

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Thu Jan 12, 2012 11:24 pm
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Having looted her fallen foe for all its worth, Bysra followed the appointed path to the west. She wasn't sure what to make of the five-pointed star, such an unclear omen putting her slightly ill at ease. Yet there was nowhere to go but forward; soon enough the young Marauder was greeted by a lightning-filled valley. Certainly, the Gods were watching... and she was not alone.

Four other warriors, all allied to one or more of the Four Brother-Gods, stood at the edge of a crater like she herself, forming the star her looted buckler sported. Bysra narrowed her eyes; no Khornate was among them. Dead centre of the five, a huge creature stood in challenge, and before long one of the other warriors raced down to meet it in combat.

With no way to tell friend from foe, she decided to merely ready her weapons and watch the situation unfold.

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Equipment: bastard sword of Speed, shield of Defence, repeater (20/20), spear, mace, dagger, Armour of Night, SDC, whip, blowpipe (9/12)
Inventory: amulet of Strength, grapple, grenade x0, smoke x11, map, mage hand, sleep oil x8, cure balms x20, Yori's balms x1, winter gear, old kit, lion mask
Mount: Dark Steed (Blanky), barding, talisman of Protection
Gold: 1735
Skills: Defensive Fighting, Anarin Sarath (2), Basic Ride
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Fri Jan 13, 2012 12:24 am
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This thoughts of the Gods were violent and strong, as he performed his ritual, crafting his little shrine to the Dark Powers. He looked smuggle at the now shrine like boulder. He had turned it from an ordinarily rock, to a beacon o the gods, in the most crudest sense. Blood trickled stickily down the cold stone, through the funneled carvings of the star. He admired his works for for a few moments, before heading south, the skies of the Chaos wastes twisting and dark above him.

He was unsure how long he traveled. He didn't sleep, he didn't grow thirsty or hungry, and his mind wandered. He thought of the power he sought, and the war he would bring to the world. The great change he would cause, renewing the world. The incredible feasts and festivals of pleasure and joy he would hold in his home, and the disease that would fall upon his enemies. He fell into the slight abyss of dreams and maybe prophecy, as his feet headed ever south.

Suddenly he was there. He wasn't fully certain yet what 'there' was exactly, but he had reached it. His mind cleared as he looked around himself. Other warriors stood around a huge crater. His hands went to his throwing axes, though it appeared that none of them were looking to attack each other. A huge horned beast stood in the middle of the crater, a beast of Chaos if ever there was one. A horrid monster. Strong, brutal, a killer.

What games to you weave now, he thought darkly to the Gods, as one of the five warriors charged down at the beast. Gripping two of his throwing axes he went for the beast also.

Karl will allow the other warrior to draw the beasts attention if possible. When the monster is sufficiently focused on the other warrior, he will attack from behind, with two thrown axes to the back. He will then drawn his Greatsword.

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Phalx Tr'dasr – WS5 / S4 / T4 / D5 / I4
Equipment: Deathspitter (5/20) 4 of these poisoned (1/2x QD, 3xSD), short sword, dagger, punching dagger (Bloodthirst Rune), shade cloak, full leather armour
Inventory: thieves tools, torches x3, healing balms x5, rope and grapple, Vikarh map, dice, winter gear, orc tusk,
Mount: Dark Steed
Gold: 5829
Skills: Basic Stealth, Precision Fire, Basic Ride, Frenzy, Ambidexterity,Suithenlu Khythan (1): SP2
Class: Shade
Check out, http://thingsfrom1934.com/


Sat Jan 14, 2012 8:44 am
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Highborn
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Joined: Wed Jun 08, 2011 9:30 am
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Location: The Colonies
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Grollund was pleased with the day's results, he even considered whistling a happy tune as he continued on his pilgrimage, but decided that since all the songs he knew were sigmarite hymns it might be a tad inappropriate and settled instead on hocking a glob of mucus onto one of the shrivelled heads that lined his way. Whatever was to come it was obvious that the plague father had a hand in it, and that was reason enough for Grollund to follow the path set before him.

After what seemed like days of wandering - but may have only been minutes, or mebey years, it was hard to tell in the Wastes - Grollund arrived at a massive crater and the first company he had seen since he had killed his fellow pilgrims in the swamp, though these people seemed less friendly than the pilgrims, or are they just less mouldy? What I am talking about, if it's mouldy it's gonna be friendly, then again none of them has tried to sacrifice me to anybody yet so they have that in thier favour. Grollund stopped a moment to ponder the comparative merits of mould and non-murder... and perhaps mud, yes mud was definitely good too... before his train of thought was interrupted most rudely by something large and horny in the bottom of the crater and two of the surrounding marauders - because it was now obvious they were all marauders - running down to attack it. He considered for a moment whether or not to help these suspiciously clean people, then decided, "eh why the realm of chaos not."

Grollund will keep his distance so as not to get in the others way and instead jab at the beasty's head and neck when the opportunity presents itself, mebey even taking out an eye or two (or three or four, this is chaos after all) to give us the advantage.

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Sun Jan 15, 2012 11:35 pm
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Cold One Knight
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Joined: Wed Apr 27, 2011 7:32 pm
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Location: BC canada
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Hulr ran for what felt like hours, feeling the dark grace of his god upon him and after a time he knew he had lost his pursuers but he kept running. Hulr lost all sense of time as he ran, but after the sun sank and the moon was high Hulr slowed to a normal walking pace and reveled in the feeling that his god had watched him for a brief time. He kept walking through the night and into the afternoon of the next day.

As he claimed a large hill he found it wasn’t a hill but a crater, Hulr stepped to the apex of the crater and looked down to see a large ugly creature hissing and snorting. Then he saw other murders charging the creature and some watching the exchange, Hulr not wanting to be out done and still riding the feeling and high of his patrons gaze Hulr let out a thunderous war cry beating his two fists off his breast plate and razing his weapons to the heavens, he charged down the slope sprinting for the monster with his god’s name on his lips.

Hulr will sprint head on at the beast but stop short of its reach, he will if it lunges for him he will jump to the side and try and strike at its appendages hoping to linger or cripple it

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the dead savoir nothing, revenge is a dish for the living

kailleth blackthorn Group 38
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Mon Jan 16, 2012 1:45 pm
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