Adventures of Caelereth

Archives => Old RPG Stories Archive => Topic started by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 02, 2005, 03:05:22 AM



Title: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 02, 2005, 03:05:22 AM
The giant northman sat by the fire, feeding it occasionally from a nearby wood pile. He was glad to have the dark elf Mana on watch with him. As was the nature of her kind she was not much in the way of conversation. But she was ever vigilant and her night vision he knew could rival that of an owl.

Earlier he had boiled some water and she had graciously cleaned and bound the wound to his left flank, treating it with some healing ointment from his supplies. After he had bathed away the blood and sweat he donned a fresh shirt and his patchwork leather long coat, leaving his breast plate in the wagon for the time. Randagaar fished out an apple while at the wagon and dropped it into his coat pocket for later, then took his bundle of maintenance tools and returned to his spot by the fire.

The Remusian sat in vigil over his sleeping comrades and quietly cleaned and sharpened his weapons, making sure they were keen and well oiled. Over his shoulder he observed the elf maiden had restrung her bow and was testing its pull.

“Morcanaan is leaving.” She said quietly.

“Aye, perhaps he needs to relieve himself.” The giant pondered, searching the darkness for his brother in arms.

“He has taken his horse, Rand.” The elf replied.

That is when the apocalypse came. The weaver’s attack had come swift and brutally. The sky itself seemed to tear in half as the night was shattered by a blinding light which forced the giant to shield his eyes. Then came a sound as if rolling thunder from the ground itself as the earth shook with such force that the great northman was thrown off his feet and stunned. The warrior lost all sense of direction, of up or down, his head swam wildly and he felt as if he were tumbling through some void until at last unconsciousness claimed him.

-----------


Slowly the giant picked himself up off the ground. How long he had lain there he did not know, but it seemed it was no longer night. It seemed that dawn had come, though the sun was obscured, indeed blotted out, by thick clouds of purple and black that covered the entire sky. Slowly Randagaar turned about in three hundred sixty degrees, seeking to gain his bearings. All was gone. His friends, his wagon, all his possessions save what he had on him. The entire bandit camp. The forest, the cave. All gone. In fact it did not seem he was any longer in the foothills overlooking the Thaehelvil river, the terrain was too level. All there was was ash covered ground as far as he could see. No sign of any other living thing.

Was he even still in Santharia he wondered? Had he been swept away to some distant land? Was he in Hell? Had the attack been leveled against him alone? Against the party at large? Or had all of Caelereth been torn asunder? Such were the questions that swept through the mind of the northman, in such quantity that he managed only a few steps in a random direction before collapsing to his knees in despair.

“Hello!” He cried out. “Is there anybody out there?!? In the name of Kor’och, is there anyone there?” Tears of fear rolled down the giant’s face and he pulled Helm Splitter from his side and propped himself up with it. Resting his forehead against the heel of the axe blade as he knelt there, he prayed to his god for strength. For bravery. For some sign of what to do next.

Then came a sound. A snorting sound. The big man peered up from his axe. A lone stag stood a dozen or so peds distant regarding the human warily. A feeling of relief overwhelmed the giant at the sight of another living creature. He chuckled to himself almost as if a madman and he came to his feet.

“How have you come to be here?” He asked the stag as he wiped the tears from his face with his sleave. “Did you some how survive the hollocaust? Where you swept here by the same forces which have brought me hence? Or are you from this strange barren land?” If nothing else the presence of another living thing had restored Randagaar’s sense of hope.

He retuned his axe to the ring at his hip and pulled the apple from his pocket offering it to the stag which sniffed at the air cautiously. Slowly the animal approached. The northman remained very still. Soon the beast came near enough to stretch out its neck and take the apple from the giant’s hand. Randagaar reached out to stroke the side of the stag’s neck. To reassure himself that it was real, and the animal whirled about and ran off in the direction from which it had come.

With a sigh, Randagaar checked his water skin. About a firkin was all it held. He would need to find a source of water soon or he would be a dead man. The tracks of the stag were easy to follow in the layer of ash that covered the ground, so the giant proceeded in that direction, wondering who, or what he might encounter in this bleak gray world.


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/5/05 16:38


Title: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Bobbo the Beggar on June 02, 2005, 06:40:22 AM
Bobbo was not sure what hour it was.  Alone in darkness and partially intoxicated he lay on the ground deep in thought for many hours.  The trees and grass were still a little unfamiliar to him after his years of living in the desert.  He wore his cloak wrapped tightly about his shoulders against the chill night air.

Then he saw the sky light up.  Even with his eyes closed he managed to see the brightness through the thin eyelid skin.  Out of impulse he quickly jolted to his feet and drew his sword.  He blinked to try and dispel the sleepy film cast over his eyes and the brightness burns.

Before he could even make out anything, the ground seemed to turn to a violent, rushing sea of dust.  He fell to the ground from the quaking, and his head crashed against a rock, letting blood run and knocking him unconscious.

*  *   *  *  *  *   *  *   *   * ** *** * *  *   *   *   * *

Bobbo awoke with a splitting headache.  He moaned before bringing himself to open his eyes and let in anymore painful light.  When he did so, though, he found that there was very little light.  The sky was darkly overcast, but he could vaguely tell that it was morning.  He did not recognize any of the surrounding territory either.  The ground was flat and covered in ash.  He coughed to get some of it out of his lungs, as it had slipped in while he slept.  Still, this was not the immediate concern for him.  The more important matter at the present was the awful pain coarsing through his skull.

He brought his arm up to touch his forehead, and found crusted over with semi-dried blood.  Must have been a nasty fall he thought while he wiped some more of the crusty substance from his face.  He wondered if his old bones could take it, but he knew deep down they could.

He needed to find water to clean his wound, but as he looked around everything seemed to be dry and dead.  Hmm he thought Looks like things are back to the way they are back home.  Dry and seemingly dead.  Is this place like the desert, hiding its life away?  What is this madness?

He stood to his feet and walked around a little to see if he saw anything else.  As he paced about, he felt something hard buried in the ash.  He quickly knelt and dug it up.  Well, at least I still have you, old friend he thought as his faithful blade Avenger was unearthed.  'Twas a little dusty, but ofterwise in fine condition despite a disquieting warmth to the metal.  He emptied his scabbard of the dust that had gathered in it and sheathed his sword.

As he examined the landscape further, he realized something incredibly powerful must have hit.  He hoped dearly that it was only the nearby area that was damaged.  Knowing that staying here would accomplish little, he decided to head off towards where he reckoned the town of the Hogg should have been.

The old man coughed, as he had breathed in a great deal of ash.  He coughed it all out of his lungs and decided to employ an old trick of the desert.  Ripping a bit of his cloak off, he tied the cloth around his mouth to block the passage of ash into his systems.

Gathering his strength, he headed off to see if anything was left of the Hogg.

Tell me which is better:  to die defending your country or to live and watch your homeland die?
Ralai, King of Adylius

Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:12


Title: After the Apocalypse.
Post by: Manik Targin on June 04, 2005, 12:28:22 AM
Manik was walking out of the Seagorn Garrison of the city of Nyermersys to spar with this man Certhigo. He didn’t want to, but in order to join the guard, he felt he couldn’t back down or lose their respect. With a sigh he stepped out into the night, it was cool, calm and refreshing. The moon lit up the courtyard with its glow, making the night a great one for a spar. He walked over to his quarterstaff to pick it up, but before his hand reached it, a low rumble vibrated through the ground and into his bones. Manik turned his head to peer across the courtyard, everyone else seemed to have heard it too. Then suddenly an earsplitting crack bore into the night and the ground around him started to crack and divide. He had heard tales of earthquakes, but had never experienced one, they were said to be made by powerful magi. Fear ran through Manik’s veins as the ground under his feet started to fall, and the night started to fly away. But just as suddenly as he started to fall, he was catapulted into the air. The sky, the city, the ruin flashed by in an instant as he was sucked into the now howling winds pulling him into blackness. He wanted to struggle, but it seemed no use. Darkness quickly enveloped him.


When he came awake, he was lying under a pile of ash. Dawn was peeking over the edge of Caelereth, and purple and black clouds littered the sky. As he stood up, pain in his ribs and head became very real, but after inspection, Manik concluded that his ribs weren’t broken, and his head only had a slight ringing. Memory shot back into him, and he fell back to his knees. “Everything….. everything…. is….gone,” he whispered to himself. He had been in the great city of Nyermersys, now he was in a wasteland of scarred earth. Manik’s mood was dismal as he started to ponder whether this was the underworld, but was interrupted by some movement not so far away. A figure glided out from around a small rise. Manik leaped up and started racing towards it. “Hello! Hey! Over here!” he yelled, but the winds must have obscured the sound. Coughing on ash, once he got closer he realized it was a man. “Thank the Gods,” Manik exclaimed to himself. Once he got a little closer, and was sure the man would hear him he hollered, “Hello there! Over here!”

Edited by: Manik Targin at: 6/5/05 18:11


Title: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Morcaanan on June 04, 2005, 01:20:22 PM
By Inthadins light...

But Inthadins light was not there.

He glanced around. Cur was gone. Everything was gone...

Ash and dust covered him, and he coughed and wretched like a beast. What had happened? Justice, protect your servant.

He stumbled to his feet and looked around him. The landscape was a desolate wasteland, and fear prickled up his spine at the sight of this desolation.

Then he looked up and saw...

"Randagaar! Randagaar! Over here!" He jumped and waved his arms, creating a small cloud of dust. "You big fat giant, over here!!" he cried and started running towards the warrior.

Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:12


Title: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Tythle Fi thea on June 05, 2005, 04:58:22 AM
Tythle had been sleeping for only a few moments it seemed when the ground started heaving underneath him. Out of pure habit he whistled for Scion, and grabbed for his bag and bow which laid beside him, as the elf tried to rise to his knees. Scion came blundering into his master chest, like the air itself was unstable as the ground beneath him. Curling himself into a ball around his bird and his possessions the last thing he hear was scions alarmed twitter.

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

The ranger awoke, he mind hazy and his head sore. Looking around the elf's heart broke at the sight of ash, and lifeless ground. He could still see the trees, grass, and all that was once green in his minds eye. He sat up in shocked silence until his companion whistled at him, causing silent tears of grief to fall down his cheeks. How long he sat there the ranger did not take note, but when he came to himself, he shook himself off and stood. Placing Scion on his shoulder the Tythle took hold of his emotions as best as he could.

The lack of sleep was getting to him, pain started growing in his mind telling him that he should rest, but he could not, not until he had found the others. Looking around his sharp eyes he picked up a couple darker shapes through the ash-ridden air. Since Tythle had no voice for shouting, he started whistling sharply and loudly hoping to catch the shadows attention.  

Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:12


Title: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 05, 2005, 05:28:22 AM
Randagaar followed the path of the stag for some time, occasionally catching sight of the huge beast in the distance, where it almost seemed to wait and watch for the giant, at the crest of each new rise in the shallow dune like terrain.

Above, the sky remained heavy with clouds, which seemed to the northman to be yearning to let loose a torrent. Lightning crawled through the overcast, bringing shades of purple and blue and crimson to the clouds, as electricity raced from horizon to horizon, and creating a continuous growling rumble from overhead..

Before long it was quite apparent that full day had come. Yet the thick black cloud cover completely obscured the sun, so entirely in fact that it was no lighter than Caelereth at dusk. Except in the brief moments of stark brilliance that occurred when the occasional bolt from above could not be restrained by the clouds, and broke free to strike at the ground beneath. In those moments the landscape was ablaze with blue white light that accented the stark grayness of this colorless land, and also revealed to the giant what appeared to be a distant range of mountains which lay in the direction the stag had lead him.

Randagaar lost sight of the stag as it crested the next small rise and descended the other side but he pressed on, determined to keep up with the animal as long as it chose to play its game. “Is it a game you play, beast?” The giant thought out loud, “or do you have some other purpose? Are you benevolent or foul?”  The pace was taking a toll on the big man, and when he reached the top of the next rise he paused and scanned ahead for the stag. It was nowhere to be seen.

The wind was picking up quite steadily now,  and at the top of the rise the ash and dust were whipping violently about, burning the northman’s face and choking his throat. He brought the collar of his coat up over his face so he could breath deeply and catch his fill. Squinting ahead he watched as a storm of wind driven ash obliterated the tracks of the stag. He fixed his eye on a distant peak with the next lightning flash, then stumbled on in that direction.

A sense of despair began to creep upon he giant once again as he continued on with not a glimpse of the stag. He was alone again. In this wasteland. And soon his mind began to play tricks on him. He began to hear voices. Voices from all directions.

To his left, “Hello! Hey! Over here!”

And to his right, “Randagaar! Randagaar! Over here!”

The big man smirked sadly to himself, as he paused in his tracks and contemplated his waning sanity. “That one almost sounded like Morcaanan.”

“Thank the Gods,” came the voice from the left. “Hello there! Over here!”

And then again from the right, “You big fat giant, over here!!”

“Morcaanan?”  The giant whispered.


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/5/05 16:39


Title: Reunited.
Post by: Morcaanan on June 05, 2005, 02:15:22 PM
"Jeharaid" muttered the mercenary as pain shot up his wounded leg, "you are very very stupid."

Still, he could see he had Randagaars attention, and that was worth it. Coughing and sputtering from the ash and dust in his mouth he stumbled in the giant's direction.

The strange ash that had gathered thick around his feet made the going a bit slow and very tiring, but not too long after he spotting the huge man he reached him, and sank to his knees next to Randagaar from pure exhaustion.

"What happened?" he gasped, hacking and choking as dust seemed almost to crawl into his mouth. "One moment I am on my horse, the next, the world turns inside out."

He looked around wildly when he heard the other voices. "Where are the others? Penrith, Manalkar, Tythle? Surely..." his voice trailed off as he considered the possibilites. He sat silent, gazing over the wastes, praying silently for answers, seeming almost to forget the big man towering over him at his side.



Title: Re: Reunited.
Post by: Manik Targin on June 05, 2005, 03:12:22 PM
As Manik gradually plodded his way through the winds and desert of ash, another figure separated from some dunes to approach the first. “Hel..*claclkc*!” choked Manik as he tried to call out again. “Hey!” He had to get their attention, he couldn’t lose them. He could almost cry with relief at finding people, he wouldn’t allow himself to lose them now. Covering his mouth to block the dust in between his yells, he continued towards the pair.

Once he was within a few peds, he held up his hands to show that he meant no harm, you never know considering his current circumstance. The two had been talking, but with the wind, Manik hadn’t been able to catch any of it. Walking closer, he looked them over through the dim light and coverings of ash. The first was huge, a giant of a man. The second was more of the normal size of a man, but looked a young boy standing beside the other. Both had weapons on their person, and by the way they carried themselves, Manik had a bet they knew how to use them. “Greetings! You wouldn’t hap-*hoeclaclk*….happen to know where we are would you?” asked Manik. It was very hard to speak without piles of ash forming on your tongue.



Title: Alone...?
Post by: Bahran the big on June 05, 2005, 03:20:22 PM
Bahran had stayed in the bar quite late, sloshing down ale after ale. The matron of the bar, if she could be considered motherly at all, had gotten up to shoo him out several times, but he just wouldn't budge. The big man was rocking back and forth in his chair, back and forth. As he went back in the chair, precariously balancing it on the two back legs, he lost control. It seemed the ground was shaking. As his body hurtled toward the ground... it should have stopped, but it didn't.

The mammoth's eyes opened slowly, surveying his surroundings. He had a bird's eye view, quite literally. He was apparently caught on a branch by his shirt; where there was a branch in all of Caelereth that could support his prestigious girth he did not know. He looked about him, trees everywhere, as far as the eye could see. The ground was nowhere in sight, however.

Without warning, the trees began to drop down vertically, disappearing one by one. The big man was in a bit of shock, but this was insane. Trees continued to fall, until only the lone tree was left. Bahran once again surveyed his surroundings; below him: gray clouds fading into black nothingness; above him: absolute nothingness, pure white.

The branch broke. He fell. Falling down. It seemed it would never stop. It was going on for five minutes, ten minutes, thirty minutes, an hour, and then blackness. He couldn't tell if he was moving or not, there was no wind rushing past, no sensation at all. No sound anymore.

He yelled out, gibberish. Just trying to hear something; but there was nothing. He could have been laying down, but there was nothing touching him except the clothes on his back. He couldn't see a thing. He moved his hand to his face. Nothing.

He opened his eyes again as he heard the wind, or at least he thought that's what it was. He had heard nothing for what seemed like an eternity. He had seen nothing, not even his own hand. But now, this was something. He was falling.

The colossus hit the ash, sending bits flying everywhere. He was obscured by all the ash, it was beginning to fill his lungs as he gasped for air, the wind being knocked out of him as he hit the ground. He had felt nothing for so long, but now he felt something; pain.

_____________

Indifference will be the downfall of mankind, but who cares?

"It’s better to die whimpering like a little girl than trying to be a hero."
-Anonymous



Title: the gathering
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 06, 2005, 07:54:22 AM
The big man could scarcely believe his eyes as they confirmed that the figure hobbling toward him was indeed Jeharaid Morcaanan. As the swordsman arrived at Randagaar’s side, the giant caught hold of his arm when he began to collapse, and eased him to his knees. Morcaanan voiced all the questions that had been racing through the giant’s mind. Randagaar wished that he had answers. However he was at a complete loss to fathom a guess. Even in the wildest tales told around the fire by warriors and adventurers he had known, he had never heard of a place such as this. “I wish I knew...” Was all he could say.

Behind them came the approach of another. Calling out to them, and choking on the dust and ash, a warrior unknown to Randagaar. The northman threw open his coat and his hand went to Helm Splitter, but when he saw the stranger display his open hands, the lack of live steel allowed the giant to relax. As this other warrior came nearer Randagaar could see in his eyes the same questions burning within him that so troubled Morcaanan and himself.

“Randagaar Van Dorn,” the giant said to the new warrior, an Erpheronian by the look of him. In other times they might surely have crossed steel, but these were not other times and the northman did his best to smile as he helped brace his comrade Morcaanan who pulled himself to his feet.

The new comer had choked on his words when he tried to speak. The giant pulled his water skin from within the breast of his coat and shook it, regarding how little was left. It made a sloshing sound. He offered it to the stranger. “There is precious little left I am afraid. Not enough to make a difference. You may as well wash back the ash and spare your throat.”

Then the giant asked of them both, "Have either of you seen the stag? I was following a great stag"


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:02


Title: Re: the gathering
Post by: Morcaanan on June 06, 2005, 08:45:22 AM
Morcaanan pointed to the dust. "You mean another living creature besides us?" There were not many to see in the dusty landscape.

He glanced up at Rand. "It would be good to see some sign of animal life around here - it would be a small comfort at least" he said with some slight relief. He glanced up at the newcomer. "And whats your part in all this mess?"

Edited by: Morcaanan at: 6/6/05 13:26


Title: Re: the gathering
Post by: Manik Targin on June 07, 2005, 01:18:22 AM
As the smaller one pulled himself to his feet, the big man introduced himself, and offered a water skin. Manik’s throat needed it, and accepted. After washing out his mouth and throat while trying to use as little of the precious water as possible, he handed back the skin.

"Have either of you seen the stag? I was following a great stag," questioned the giant.

Manik hadn’t seen a stag, and didn’t know how such a beast could survive in this land. Nor did he know how he would survive. Manik shrugged his shoulders with a little shake of his head to let …his name was …Randagaar… know he hadn’t seen the beast. Neither man had answered his question of where they were, but judging from the smaller man’s response, they were thinking the same thing.

"And whats your part in all this mess?"

Manik didn’t know what to say at first, and just stared for a second. ”My part?.... Well I guess my part is being caught in some kind of earthquake, sucked out of Nyermersys, and being cast into this far forsaken land,” replied Manik, finishing with another shrug. “How do you come to be here?”



Title: Re: the gathering
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 07, 2005, 02:48:22 AM
The giant Van Dorn searched the ground for the tracks of the stag, a few were still discernible, but barely. Morcaanan’s eye was sharp to have spotted them. Their presence meant the beast might not be too far ahead.

“Nyermersys? But that is hundreds of strals north of where we were, near Santhala!” The giant said with surprise, as he took back his water skin from the stranger. That fact alone made a couple of things clear to the northman. Whatever had occurred had not been a localized event, it had been far reaching. All off Caelereth could easily have been effected. Whatever force had transported them could easily have brought others to this desolate plane of ash, possibly from anywhere on Caelereth.

Still many questions remained unanswered. Where they still somewhere on Caelereth? Some distant forsaken land across the sea. Had some force picked them up and deposited them here by random chance, or by diabolic design? Were they on some other world beyond the void? Were they even still alive? Was this the afterlife? Some limbo world between heaven and hell? Hell itself? The giant remembered the wound to his flank. It still ached, and Morcaanan’s leg, still injured. He doubted that one would still bare the wounds of battle in the hereafter, and that gave him a sense of uncertain optimism.

“We are still alive,” he said, almost as much to convince himself as to state a point of fact. Before passing the waterskin over to Morcaanan he squirted a jet of water into his mouth and swallowed. As the cool wettness revived his throat he knew he was alive. Still alive, “for now.”

“The stag I followed was headed in that direction. Unless it was swept here by the same force that brought us hence there must be a place where it gains food and water. As I see it our best hope is to follow on.” The Remusian turned and pointed. At the top of the next dune sat a rider.

It was hard to make out any details of his appearance at such a range, a hundred peds or more, through the veils of ash that danced in the gales of wind which swept across the face of the land. But distance would soon be of no matter for the rider reigned his mount toward the gathering and slowly trotted in their direction.




Title: Re: the gathering
Post by: Manik Targin on June 07, 2005, 05:29:22 AM
Santhala?! Manik could feel the blood drain from his face. How could that be? Possibilities of what had happened raced through his mind. Manik felt his mind start to panic, but quickly grappled with it to bring it back under control. Whatever had happened had happened, now he just had to make the best of it.

“We are still alive,” stated the big man Randagaar, “for now.”

Manik stared at the giant; it was as if the man had been reading his thoughts. He took comfort at the man’s conclusion and strengthened his resolve. He listened attentively as the huge man offered a course of action. Follow where the stag was going, in hope that it would lead to food and water. Manik nodded his head, it was a good plan if they could follow the tracks, and he didn’t have a better one.

Noticing Randagaar staring into the wind, Manik followed his gaze. Through the current of ash, Manik could make out a rider coming towards them. He hoped the rider was friendly, these men had weapons, but he didn’t. He had lost his quarterstaff being pitched onto this wasteland.



Title: Re: the gathering
Post by: Tythle Fi thea on June 07, 2005, 11:36:22 AM
Tythle was not get the shadows attentions, so with great weariness he jogged somewhat toward the growing shadow, or now shadows as he eyes perceived more than one. Risking loss of his voice he shouted, "Rand? are you there Northman." His voice thankfully came out loud and some what clearly out toward what he hoped was his comrades. The ash was like snow, blanketing the ranger and his bird, who tried to shake off the clinging material.

Edited by: Tythle Fi thea  at: 6/8/05 5:55


Title: Unexpected Sightings and Good Tidings
Post by: Bahran the big on June 07, 2005, 04:11:22 PM
As the ash began filling his lungs the big man got up as quickly as he could, but soon fell to his knees hacking and coughing. When he finally cleared out the ash from his lungs, several minutes later, his sides were in agony. He'd been stabbed, burned, had fallen from a good few peds in the air, had his head smacked with a log, and shot with an arrow; but nothing had felt quite like a good five minute straight coughing fit.

When Bahran could finally stand, still hacking a bit of course, he checked himself to make sure all his stuff was still with him. As he took a step forward he heard a sort of jingling sound. He stopped and the sound stopped. He took another step and the sound returned. That's when he realized that he hadn't wet his pants, all of his booze bottles had just been smashed. He would rather have wet his pants any day.

The giant was parched. He never carried water with him... he didn't have much of a need for it. But, he continued to trudge on nonetheless. Somewhere along the way the jingling sound of broken glass started to get on his nerves so he emptied it all out, leaving a good number of lacerations on his rough calloused hands. The coughing didn't help his nerves either, but he found that emptying out your lungs by hand wasn't an easy task.

Then... salvation. People, their shadows at least. Bahran usually wasn't all that trusting, but unless you've been coughing so much you're beginning to lose your sanity then you're in no place to judge him. He did something that loosely resembled running towards the group of men, who were but shadows to his tired eyes.

_____________

Indifference will be the downfall of mankind, but who cares?

"It’s better to die whimpering like a little girl than trying to be a hero."
-Anonymous



Title: Re: Unexpected Sightings and Bad Tidings
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 08, 2005, 12:39:22 AM
The rider glided down the dune slope toward the gathering of men. The windstorm howled with an increased ferocity, forcing the warriors to shield their faces against the onslaught of ash and dust. It was almost as if a blizzard had engulfed them, as swirling sheets of the fine gray powder battered the men from their flanks.

Behind the approaching rider a series of lightning strikes assaulted the distant mountain range, illuminating the landscape in blinding shades of starkly contrasting blacks and whites, silhouetting the unknown rider as he grew nearer, and from above the rumbling thunder was like the laughter of some malevolent primal god.

The first discernible details of the rider as he, it, grew less distant, were the wisps of flame that flicked at the ground with every step of the rider’s gauntly, skeletal mount. The flames that licked forth from the nostrils of the beast, seemingly with every breath. Then the glowing yellow green light where the eyes of the dark rider should be.

Randagaar’s hand went to his axe as the blood sank away from his vital organs and charged his limbs for what may come. A feeling he was all to familiar with, as was any seasoned warrior. A feeling that some never learned to control, yet that some found exhilarating, that some used as the driving force behind acts of bravery and heroism. Fear prickled at the back of the giant’s neck as it seized him in its icy embrace.

And when the monster was at last but a few peds away the true nature of the thing could be seen. Its armor of bronze and iron, in the style of the ancients, tarnished by the ages. The tattered remnants of it’s robes and cloak as they flapped in the gale like the shredded wings of a wounded bat. The dried and leathery skin, cracked and drawn taught over parched bones. Its noseless face. Its lipless eternal grin. The vacant eye sockets charged by unnatural light.

“Outworlders,” came a disembodied voice as the thing spoke, “your journey is at its end. The Death Queen sends her regards.”  The monster grasped the handle of its sword with a mummified hand, and began to draw it forth.

Out of the wind and ash came the stag. At a full charge the great beast lowered its head and presented the full splendor of its mighty rack to the flank of the nightmare rider’s mount. The horse beast belched fire and smoke as its forelegs were driven from beneath it by the force of the collision, buckling it  face first to the ground. The Death Knight toppled from the saddle and rolled in cloud of ash.

Randagaar drew his axe and broadsword simultaneously. “Warrior!” He shouted as he lobbed the broadsword toward the weaponless erpheronian.

The rider came to his feet, towering before them, towering over the giant. The wind howled around them all, like a pack of hungry animals, as the skeletal warrior’s sword came unsheathed. A huge weapon, the size of a two handed sword to most mortal men, its blade of blackened metal bore runes of unknown and ancient origin which glowed with a faint purple light. Slivers of lightning crawled and crackled along the length of the blade and it shed forth an aura of fear so powerful that the Remusian nearly ran in terror.

“Elkor!” The voice of the undead monster growled as it turned to face the stag, ignoring the party of men.”You are a fool to have left your sanctuary! The Death Queen shall hold me in high favor when I present her your head.”

The stag snorted in return and pawed the ash covered ground. Randagaar was struck by the polar opposition of the two creatures. As much as the knight was death embodied, so was the stag life. Muscle and bone and skin and blood. He could almost feel the pounding of its heart. Or was it his own?

The monster swung his blade at the stag, scorching the air. The great beast sprang back with amazing agility. The riders steed came to its feet and lunged to attack the stag but was met by the stag’s rack of antlers. The withered skin of the death horse peeled away revealing the dry bones beneath as the horns of the stag tore into it. The stag reared up and raked at the nightmare with its cloven hooves driving it back. The nightmare horse screamed, a sound like no horse the giant had ever heard, and spit fire in the face of the stag.

The death rider moved to strike the stag. Randagaar grasped the handle of his axe firmly with both hands. “Nooooo!” The giant yelled, and he charged forward. The undead knight turned to face the giant human.

Overhead the sky was shattered by a string of lightning strokes that illuminated the coming events as if they were a series of seconds frozen in time.


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/7/05 17:18


Title: Re: Unexpected Sightings and Bad Tidings
Post by: Manik Targin on June 08, 2005, 04:31:22 AM
As the rider drew closer, Manik couldn’t make himself speak. He wanted to ask who or what it was, but could only manage to stare in disbelief and fear. The steed was a skeletal nightmare blowing flames from its nostrils. The rider wore ancient plate armor with shreds of a death-black cloak framing glowing embers burning a deep yellow green. Manik was a statue. He couldn’t make himself move or even cry out. The ash buffeted his face and body and all he could do was stand there.

Manik felt a shiver run the entire length of his body as the thing addressed them, “Outworlders, your journey is at its end. The Death Queen sends her regards.” He watched as if in a trance as the massive stag unexpectedly shot from the hailstorm of ash into the side of the rider.

Manik remained a statue until the word “Warrior!” rang through his mind from without. He snapped back to reality, if this land could be called reality, to turn towards where he heard the voice. The giant lobbed a sword at him, and Manik deftly caught it out of the air. The weapon was a well made broadsword. It wasn’t his quarterstaff, but he was more than glad to have it.

As he watched the continuing face-off between the rider and the stag, Manik wasn’t too sure the sword would be of any use. Manik was hesitant, he wasn’t sure that he was of any use in the battle. The rider’s aura pulled at him as if sucking away his life, and the stag the opposite, seeming to provide reassurance and peace. Manik watched as the rider moved to strike down the stag. The giant Randagaar reacted first, charging forward to the stag’s aid with a yell. Inspired by the big man’s move, Manik quickly moved up just behind and to the left of the giant to either flank the rider, or come to Randagaar’s aid.



Title: Armor-clad Thingies.
Post by: Bahran the big on June 08, 2005, 05:22:22 AM
As the big man drew nearer to the group he realized that something wasn't quite right. The was a hefty man-thing on an enormous steed-thing riding towards them. Really big mysterious things riding other big mysterious things on mysterious barren plains didn't sit well with Bahran. As he began closing the gap of the last 50 peds or so, the creature spoke.

“Outworlders, your journey is at its end. The Death Queen sends her regards.” At least, Bahran assumed that it was the creature, the voice seemed to be coming from all around him. Without warning a stag bolted towards the rider and unhorsed him from his unholy steed. Bahran was fixated upon the action, until --

"Warrior!" It rang out, breaking Bah's attention as he watching the sword being thrown from one of the men to another. That's when he noticed that his coughing had stopped, what a relief.

Bahran finished closing the gap as the two warriors charged towards what Bah could now tell was an enormous armor-clad knight. Still... he didn't know who was friend and who was foe.

_____________

Indifference will be the downfall of mankind, but who cares?

"It’s better to die whimpering like a little girl than trying to be a hero."
-Anonymous



Title: Re: Armor-clad Thingies.
Post by: Bobbo the Beggar on June 08, 2005, 06:07:22 AM
After a long walk, Bobbo came to the conclusion that the town was gone, either that or he was gone somewhere else.  Either way, it presented a great difficulty for him.

Unlike most people, Bobbo was able to handle this adverse conditions somewhat well.  Being a desert-dweller his whole life he had little need for constant water and knew ways to keep the sand (and ash in this circumstance) from contaminating his body.

Surprisingly, the dark clouds began to light up with lightning, or at least what seemed to be lightning.  It was in this new light that Bobbo managed to see the silhouette of hills nearby.  He had not noticed these before, which made him more suspect the second of his suspicions on what had happened had occurred.

Thinking the hills to be a fine place to take a better look about the surrounding territory, he set off in their direction.  This was his arena.  Despite the insane circumstances he had been thrust into, he managed to keep a cool head and think rationally.  He knew that even his desert-trained body would need water at some point.  He had to get a better view.

And so, concentrating on his goal and trying to forget the pain in his head now growing more severe, he made his way up the hillside.  As he drew near the summit, he heard voices and a cry of, "Warrior!"  nearby.  There was apparently trouble nearby.  He gritted his teeth and focused his eyes to try and relieve some of the pain.

As he drew near, he saw several men standing and a very unorthodox-looking horse and rider.  It also appeared that a stag fought with the horse and rider.  The stag shown with a comforting light, or so it seemed to Bobbo.  The other men nearby were of varying heights, ranging from an average person to a mighty giant.  As he watched the giant rushed into battle with the rider to try and save the stag.

It was not long before he realized that he was not the only spectator to this fight.  He saw the man he had met in the tavern approaching, looking rather exhausted and hurt.  Bobbo himself stood tall and proud, despite the growing ache in his joints.

Bobbo had no idea what the story was behind this fight, but he drew Avenger from its scabbard in case he had need to defend himself.  His instincts told him that he should help the stag and the giant, for the horse and rider appeared to be incredibly unholy and perverse.  Twisted beings they appeared.

Seeing the horse fall to the ground breathing fire from the stag's powerful charge, Bobbo instinctively rushed over and plunged his weapon into the beast's heart, or where a heart should have been.  It was highly likely that such a foul looking beast would be heartless.  There was not much meat for his sword to grab onto, and it skittered along the ribs.  Taken aback, Bobbo withdrew his sword quickly and backed away with unusual speed.  He stared in horror at the sight of flame spouting out of the hole he had made in the monster.

He cautiously made his way to stand by the few men who had been near the giant before he rushed into the fray.

"What in Ava's name are these beasts?" asked Bobbo in a desparate tone.

He found that he was quite different from these men.  He had much far darker skin and had his mouth covered, which none of these fellows had thought to do.  Thinking he looked somewhat intimidating, he took the cover off his mouth and revealed that he was human.  After a few seconds, he refastened the cloth to prevent the dust from crippling his breath.

"I'd really like to know what is going on," said Bobbo, raising his voice over the storm.

Tell me which is better:  to die defending your country or to live and watch your homeland die?
Ralai, King of Adylius



Title: Re: Armor-clad Thingies.
Post by: Tythle Fi thea on June 08, 2005, 02:09:22 PM
As the ranger drew nearer to the group he did see Rand and Morcanaan along with a few others that he did not know. The elf now knew why no one had answered him. The thing in front of Rand seemed to draw all life to him as if sucked it out, like a leech. Tythle also took in the Stag fighting this beast, it glowed just as the forest had glowed with life, whispering something incoherent in elfish the elf picked up speed toward the group. Scoin sensing that his master was about to run took off and flew a little ahead as the ranger sped toward the small battle.

Stopping just short of the melee fighting he drew an arrow and muttered something else elvish over it until the arrow took a glow to it. Taking up his bow he aimed for the skeletons eye. He doubted the basic elvish magic would do any harm to the thing, but maybe just maybe it would distract it enough for the Stag to get another charge in, or maybe give Rand some breathing space. He let the string go with a sure and true snap, the arrow took off heading off toward the "man".

Edited by: Tythle Fi thea  at: 6/8/05 23:20


Title: Re: Armor-clad Thingies.
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 10, 2005, 06:44:22 AM
The Death Knight whirled to face the charging giant. Randagaar hauled back his axe for a mighty swing.

Behind the living dead thing, the stag drove the braying death mount once more to the ground. A wild eyed old man darted out of the wind and ash and stabbed at the prone horse thing with a crusty old sword. An unholy scream escaped the monster as fire spilled from its wound like blood, and the old man retreated back into the obscuring haze of the swirling ash blizzard.

The ghastly rider raised his hand toward the approaching northman and fixed him with its sardonic gaze. “Hold!” It hissed, and it grasped a handful of air in its skeletal claw as if wringing the life from some unseen heart. The giant was frozen in mid swing. Held fast in his tracks by some arcane force, an unmoving sculpture of human flesh, defenceless against the blow that followed. The undead knight slashed the Remusian across the chest with an effortless backhand stroke. A deafening clap of thunder seemed to resonate from the ebon blade as it struck the giant,  lightning crawled across Randagaar’s body for a single blinding instant, and the big man was hurled backward into the dust. Whether or not he had cried out from the blow was not certain, though it seemed that he had.

The giant rolled slowly in the dust and ash, groaning. Blood flowed freely from the wound across his chest. The towering Death Knight stepped forward, toward the fallen giant, heedless of the other men. Its low evil laughter blended with the rumbling from the clouds overhead as it took its position, looming over the giant. The rider raised its deadly weapon high above its head with both hands. The giant’s death seemed but a heartbeat away. The northman squinted up at the skeletal warrior, through the ash and the fog of pain, and groped feebly about the dust for Helm Splitter.

The elf ranger’s arrow whistled through the air toward the spectral monster, as if it were a streak of holy light, unhindered by the gales of wind it remained true to its course, and found its mark in the monster’s eye. The knight roared as it staggered back from its fallen prey. It clawed at the elf’s arrow with one mummified hand, light and fire spewed from the wounded orbit as it tore the missile free from its skull and cast it aside


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/9/05 22:50


Title: Re: Armor-clad Thingies.
Post by: Tythle Fi thea on June 10, 2005, 11:09:22 AM
Seeing the Death Rider react such to the arrow gave the ranger hope, but seeing how the rider had thrown off Rand like a wet rag smashed the hope like shattered glass. Running over to the large man, he dropped to his knees over the ravaged Northmans body to see if he could heal him. It was hopeful now but, that was now, not later even if they won this battle.

Looking up once more he drew out another arrow, speaking elven as he drew, again the arrow took a glow, slightly blue in hue. The monsters other eye was now his target, but he doubted he could make this a steady shot, the pain from too little sleep was causing him to shake in his aiming. He centered himself as best as he could and let fly. It was a shaky shot, but the bow string was drawn back to the full, so the flight would be long enough, but accurate was another matter altogether.  



Title: Slash and dash
Post by: Manik Targin on June 11, 2005, 05:17:22 AM
Manik moved to the left to flank the…thing. As he got closer he witnessed the full view of the wretched …Demon. It had to be some kind of demon; its mangled black cloak wrapped around a skeletal frame with a mess of decaying flesh hanging off the bones. Manik wanted to empty his stomach, but even more he wanted to run, and keep running.

Manik was surprised to see another soul materialize out of the darkness to plunge a sword into the fallen steed. Fire licked the blade as a terrible wail escaped the creature’s maw. This wasn’t one of the two men he had met, but he was more than happy to see him.

Everything was happening so fast, Manik turned back to see Rand frozen with his axe raised overhead. The demon slashed Rand across the chest knocking him backward sending thunder crashing from the demon’s blade and an impact of air into Manik, leaving him a bit dazed. Recovering, Manik rushed to give the giant aid as the demon raised his deadly sword overhead. He was too slow, but fortunately another was not. An arrow found its mark in the demon’s eye.

Taking advantage of the good fortune, Manik rushed up behind the demon and into a low crouch. With all the strength he could muster, Manik swung the broadsword with two hands to slash the back of what he thought was the demon’s knee. As he finished the stroke, he prepared to duck into a roll away and behind the monster.

Manik Targin

Edited by: Manik Targin at: 6/11/05 2:35


Title: Re: Slash and dash
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 12, 2005, 01:57:22 AM
The undead knight stumbled back from the injured giant and held a withered claw over its wounded eye socket until the light and flame ceased to spill from its skull. When it lowered its hand a thick black ichor could bee seen oozing down the monster’s decayed bony cheek. The thing was staggered again as Manik ripped at its knee with the northman’s broadsword nearly taking its leg from beneath it. In an instant the rider swung its sword with a growling laughter and it slashed into the ground where the young Erpheronian had been a moment before. The dark blade released a second bone jarring clap of thunder as its lightning charge scorched the earth.

The thing fixed its remaining glowing eye upon the elf ranger who was now kneeling beside the giant Van Dorn. It hissed as the elf drew a second arrow and charged it with the power of his righteousness. Ty nocked the arrow and let it fly. The skeletal monster brought its sword around and slashed it through the air before him with amazing speed, cutting the arrow in two before it found its mark, and the halves of the arrow spun harmlessly by it in the wind.

The grim demon forked two fingers of its free hand and jabbed them in direction of the archer before he could ready another arrow. “Blind!” Boomed the disembodied voice of the death rider, and the elf ranger’s skin tingled as every hair stood on end. A tunnel of darkness descended upon the elf, obscuring the world before him in a cloud of black. In a matter seconds the darkness closed upon him from all directions narrowing the field of his vision into an ever smaller circle, until all the was left was he hideous laughing face of the knight. And in a moment that too would vanish, and there would be only blackness.

Groping about in the ash, Randagaar at last found Helm Splitter. Trembling, he used the weapon as a brace, and with a moan he pulled himself to his knees.

The monster leveled his sword toward the blade Morcaanan as he sought to enter the fray, it whispered quietly, some strange croaking sound in an unknown ancient language. The air crackled with energy and reeked of ozone as the electrical charge of the Death Knight’s sword ran the length of the blade, and leaped from its tip at the swordsman with another deafening blast.

The crashing of antlers against bone, the snorting of the stag, and the ungodly shriek of the nightmare hell horse, could be heard nearby, as the two animals continued their struggle somewhere in the haze of wind and ash, and a second giant, the manbear Bahran, arrived on the scene.


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/11/05 21:37


Title: Hasty Reactions
Post by: Bahran the big on June 12, 2005, 10:41:22 AM
As Bahran reached the fight he quickly realized just who the good guys were. The big man unsheathed his sword, wielding the massive sword in one hand. He swung the sword around a little, getting a feel for it after his... interesting experience... of falling for that great deal of time. The giant's arm ached a bit, but he overlooked the discomfort.

Near him there was another man who looked to be of notable size, pulling himself to his feet using his weapon. Bah took a few steps towards him, but it seemed there was a more pressing matter going on to his other side. He saw the lightning bolt travelling from the blade towards one of the other men and took his chance.

Bahran charged towards the monster and raised his sword above his head. He began to bring the sword down at the demon's wrist on the hand holding the sword, but the creature had other ideas. His free hand flew out, hitting the big man in the chest, sending him flying back several peds. Bahran's sword bounced away from him as he hit the ground, landing a ped or so from his hand. The monster was a lot stronger then he thought.

_____________

Indifference will be the downfall of mankind, but who cares?

"It’s better to die whimpering like a little girl than trying to be a hero."
-Anonymous



Title: Re: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Tythle Fi thea on June 12, 2005, 01:57:22 PM
Tythle was in shock, the pain, the darkness was almost overwhelming, tears ran down his cheeks unrestrained for a moment or two before the elf got a hold of himself if only for a little while. Grabbing blindly for his bag at his side, the ranger felt for a well known pain killer plant in his bag and shoved it in his mouth chewing and swallowing quickly. Drawing deep breaths, he tried to clam himself, and he was somewhat succeeding in clearing his mind. He couldn't see, but his familiar could, tapping into the bond that they shared for sight was beyond his limited training but the bird could communicate with his master.

Whistling for Scion to land on his shoulder, he carefully stood hesitant in his movements for the first time in his long life. Ignoring the loss of his sight Tythle tried to concentrate on touch and sound, bow still in hand and getting at the arrows in his quiver were no problem, but not hitting his companions was his foremost worry. Scion came flapping over to land on the elf's shoulder, settling himself and shaking of ash as it settled on his wings. "Where is the death knight?....and were are the allies.....wait no...where is the horse?" He transmitted these thoughts or feelings to his bird who whistled a couple directions at the elf.

Turning slowly, feeling the ash move underneath his soft leather boots the archer once more repeated the last actions that caused his untimely loss of sight. Breathing slowly he aimed. "Don't let me hit the Stag, whatever you do Scion my friend, do let me miss aim." Drawing the string back he listed carefully to the bird as Scion twittered in his ear a simple "yes" or "no" type response as to the precision of the aiming. When the bird fell silent, the ranger let go. The arrow ripped through the ash clouds, like a blue streak of lightning, and into the side of the death knights steed. If the Stag was freed from his struggle with the horse then it could take on the knight, and then their hopes for life might be realized.

Edited by: Tythle Fi thea  at: 6/12/05 21:33


Title: Re: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Morcaanan on June 12, 2005, 02:12:22 PM
Morcaanan gave himself a sarcastic compliment for not paying attention; after all, the landscape had been so interesting...

When this Dead Thing had attacked he had been more than a little taken aback; now he stood to enter the fray, and when the bolt came, he raised his sword as if to ward it off.

His sword sparked and shocked his hand, forcing him to drop it; he howled in surprise, feeling horrified by this appartion. By Inthadin's light, what was this...thing?

He stepped forward and made to kick at the creature, which promptly grabbed his incoming foot and hurled him several peds away into the dust as if he were a rag doll, where he lay feeling slightly stunned.  

Edited by: Morcaanan at: 6/12/05 6:14


Title: enlightenment
Post by: Randagaar Van Dorn on June 13, 2005, 09:55:22 AM
The undead monster chuckled at its insidious handy work. The entire party lay before him in ruins. Wounded battered and stunned. “Puny mortals,” came his low echoing voice, ”you shall not leave the sea of ash alive.” But for the skeletal thing there was another more pressing matter. It turned toward the staglord Elkor. Rarely did such opportunity present itself. The stag never journeyed so far from the safety of the glade. His loss would be a glorious blow to the druidess Glyndreal.

The death rider saw the blinded elf attempt an arrow shot at his steed, the fool. The arrow flew surprisingly close to the nightmare mount, even grazing the beast’s neck slightly as it sailed past. It seemed almost as if the skeletal horse had sensed the arrow coming, for it dropped to the ground to evade the arrow at the last possible instant, and the arrow nearly struck the stag instead.

The northman looked down at the wound to his chest. It was bad. Blood flowed down his belly from his slashed chest, completely saturating the front of his shirt. Randagaar’s hands were slick with his own blood. Breathing heavily the giant scooped up a handful of ash and  rubbed his hands together, caking the ash into the blood, then wiping it along the handle of his axe. The warrior tested his grip on his weapon as he hauled himself finally to his feet. The effect of the lightning was beginning to wane and the giant Remusian’s strength was returning, though he feigned enfeeblement as he stumbled forward behind the Death Knight.

The Stag sprang back as the arrow whistled past, the great animal pawed at the ash covered ground and snorted. As if he had somehow breathed life into it, lush green vines of thorny ivy sprang forth from the dead soil, and entwined the limbs of the hell horse, weaving in and out of its exposed skeletal frame, holding it fast, pinning it to the earth. The nightmare whimpered and struggled against the entangling growth as the stag reared up and let loose with a deep braying call.

A warm yellow light shone from the crying stag, growing in intensity, spreading outward and engulfing the captured death horse. The undead night was staggered in his tracks as he advanced, by the growing power of the stag’s mystic light, and when it had reached its full intensity, that of full sunlight on a clear summer day, the knight was forced to avert his gaze and shield his remaining eye. “No...” The monster growled as he raised the tip of his sword in the direction of the chanting stag, and he began to intone the same strange, ancient words that had earlier brought forth his sword a bolt of lightning against the blade Morcaanan.

Inside the radius of light, fresh young blades of new grass peeked through the ash, and clover blossomed with tiny white flowers. And the monster horse burned and sputtered and smoked, as it thrashed violently against the restraining vines which held it fast, shrieking and wailing as flames erupted from its dry withered body.

Randagaar had little choice, he could not allow the monster to release such fury upon the stag. The giant rushed forward and swung his axe at the Death Knight’s arm. The mithril alloy sheared through the ancient monster’s armor and mummified flesh, passing cleanly through the limb. But the monsters arm did not fall away as Rand had expected. The undying spirit of the monster which held his disjointed body together was too powerful. It seemed virtually immune to his weapon.

The giant had succeeded though, in turning the knight’s attention from the stag, for it whirled on him and raised its sword to strike. The northman doubted he could survive another blow. In desperation he dropped his axe and rushed the monster, grappling the bony thing about the waist with both arms, driving it back. One ped, then three, five! The giant dove forward. They crashed to the ground inside the circle of radiance that shone from the stag.

The monster began to sizzle and spark as the light bathed him. Randagaar held the monsters sword arm to the ground with all his might as they struggled. The fiend was too strong. In a moment he would throw the northman off. The big man looked into horrible visage of the Death Knight. The one remaining eye shining with a green yellow glow, in stark contrast to the now empty socket teaming with maggots and black fluid, betraying the source of the undead monsters diabolic existence.

“The eye!” Screamed the giant as the monster back handed him into unconsciousness.


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/13/05 2:00


Title: Re: enlightenment
Post by: Manik Targin on June 13, 2005, 01:48:22 PM
Manik’s quick roll away from the Demon provided him an awkward stumble and a face full of ash. Coughing and wiping the ash away he stayed close to the ground, but was oblivious to the surrounding action. By the time he turned towards the cries of battle, all his comrades were sprawled across the ground, or close to it. There were new faces, new hope, new blood, new pain. As he surveyed the damage, he did realize, however, that the dark-skinned man who had appeared out of the ash was not among them; where had he gotten to?

Staying low in a crouch, Manik watched the ensuing battle between the magic of the stag and rider. His blade apparently had done little against the knight and there was little hope that he could do anything more. He watched as the hobbling giant-man suddenly sprang to his feet and drove his axe right through the rider’s arm. Manik witnessed the man grapple the demon rider to the ground. The big man’s efforts seemed to be just as futile as his own had been, but he wasn’t giving up. Manik could see that the demon was the stronger, and would soon have the giant Randagaar off him. The giant wasn’t giving up. Neither would he.

With a heavy grunt, Manik lifted himself from the ashen ground and started in a full force sprint towards the struggling pair. Only 2 peds away, Randagaar’s scream erupted as he was catapulted off the knight, “The eye!”  The knight was just sitting up as Manik leapt onto it. Landing straddling the demon, he drove with all his weight the big man’s broadsword for the thing’s chest. The eye? It must be his weakness! With his sword already dedicated to the rider’s chest, Manik frantically reached out with two fingers and thumb. It was the only thing he could think of: pluck the light from the demon’s head.

Manik Targin



Title: Re: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Tythle Fi thea on June 14, 2005, 03:26:22 AM
As the Knight had fallen into the ground affected by the Stags growing power the curse of blindness seemed to lift a little. Tythle strengthened his will, and said a small spell in elvish in restoring sight, it didn't do much but the ranger could now make out shapes, and dark and light shades. The ranger could just make out the "horse's" trapped form beneath the entangling vines, lifeless after being in the light for so long. The light itself was awe inspiring to the elf, what little he could see gave his heart such hope again. Turning from the stilled steed the ranger saw the blurry image of the demon and one other grappling on the ground, also in the light caused by the Stag. Hearing Rands desperate cry, and seeing the blurry images move, one flying off and one hopping on, and then grappling some more with the creature. Tythle readied himself, ready to let fly if the "man" shaped blur was unsuccessful as taking out the other eye.  



Title: Re: After the Apocalypse
Post by: Bobbo the Beggar on June 15, 2005, 09:39:22 AM
Fear overcame Bobbo as he watched each man fall one by one to the death knight's fury.  Then he heard the big northerner's cry and saw the younger man dash off to the knight.  Gritting his teeth and holding Avenger ready, he rushed beside the young warrior.  If nothing else he could block an ill-fated attempt from the knight to stop the man's attack.

Tell me which is better:  to die defending your country or to live and watch your homeland die?
Ralai, King of Adylius