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Author Topic: After the Apocalypse  (Read 8680 times)
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Bahran the big
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« Reply #15 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

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"Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication."
- Lord Byron
Randagaar Van Dorn
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« Reply #16 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
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Manik Targin
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« Reply #17 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.

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Bahran the big
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« Reply #18 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

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"Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication."
- Lord Byron
Bobbo the Beggar
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« Reply #19 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

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Tythle Fi thea
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« Reply #20 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
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Randagaar Van Dorn
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« Reply #21 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
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Tythle Fi thea
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« Reply #22 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.  

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Manik Targin
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« Reply #23 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
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Randagaar Van Dorn
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« Reply #24 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
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Bahran the big
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« Reply #25 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

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"Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication."
- Lord Byron
Tythle Fi thea
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« Reply #26 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
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Morcaanan
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« Reply #27 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
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Randagaar Van Dorn
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« Reply #28 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
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Manik Targin
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #29 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

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