Malagaar stood atop the hill in the darkness, watching the foolish Orcs lay siege to the phantom camp. A grimace played on his lips at the counter ambush that had been prepared. For an army to hide, for so many men to not give these beasts even a hope for a fair fight. He couldn't say he agreed. The events of the day played through his head. The carnage of warfare sickening him. These people had lives like our own. Twisted lives, that mock sentience, but lives all the same. The sounds of battle echoed in his mind, sending shivers along his body. The cold embrace of his Scizore woke him from his daydream as his instincts told him to prepare. He was no stranger to bloodshed, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.
Testing the weapons weight, he waited for the order to join the assault. He looked to the faces of his companions. This night he would pray. For the souls of the living as well as the dead. He would not allow this carnage to taint him as it did his father.
The wind picked up, and a fog settled in the valley below. A twister of light erupted, turning all eyes in it's direction and when Malagaar looked back the battle below was obscured yet the sounds not. Then, the sounds changed. Screams of fear from their own forces. Sounds of an unrelenting assault. Did the beasts regain morale? The mages on the hilltop summoned more winds to push the fog aside and the sight that greeted him made Malagaar cringe. The dead, of both armies, rose like so many puppets in a theater of the damned, limbs loose and bodies swaying. They moved with ferocity at the King's forces and mercilessly crushed all opposition. This was a true mockery of life, and something he couldn't stand. His offence was heightened when the general ordered his unit to attack the temple.
''As your wish my lord. But might I suggest a tactical withdrawal to the higher ground. You're far more likely to hold the line while we're not here to defend you that way.''
Malagaar drew his shortsword, and prepared to move with his unit to the temple.
Posted on 2012-11-04 at 22:23:58.
Edited on 2012-11-04 at 23:10:19 by KingRat
Istanius stood silently behind his companions listening to the battle. He eyed his group through his helmets narrow eyeholes, prefering the secrecy of being behind a mask to being out in the open. It hid his feelings: it hid his mourning. His father died in service to the blades a year or so ago. Istanius joined to finish what his father started. To maintaine a peaceful land, with out these feindish overlords. The battle seemed to be going well though. No need for his group to get involved. Istanius stood silently as the torches lit up his black arnour. He shifted for a moment to regard the battle a bit better, before focusing on the torchlight in the old ruins. Probably just some cowering orcs in their, hiding for their pathetic lives.
Sudenly, a twister of light erupted form the temple. Istanius' first tought was to charge the twister suicidally. He quickly calmed down. He tought sarcastically brilliant idea. I could easily best that twister by dragging it to the ground. He noticed that he had half drawn his sword: which was so well oiled, it hadn't made a sound. He was completely calmed down when the fog descended. That's when the screaming sided. At first, Istanius had thought that the screaming was the enemy.
It took Istanius several seconds to realize that those were his countrymen screaming. He winced beneath his helmet: however, he made sure to stand perfecty still. No need for his allies to see his weakness. Istanius had been blinded byhis confidence in his allies that he allowed himself to be caught off guard. Everyone of their screams reminded him of his own father death. Istanius silently cleared those thoughts from his head. He had to be at complete combat ability.
Istanius listened to the generals orders, and Malagaar's suggestion. He did have to respect the rangers suggestion; a tactical withdrawl was the best option in his eyes. "All right people," Istanius tried to say flatly, "let's get going. Slowest soldier gets to ride on my horse with me.: Istanius mounted his horse, planning a fast ride. As soon as the group is was ready, he'd be ready to ride towards the path, and to the temple.
Posted on 2012-11-05 at 02:43:03.
Edited on 2012-11-07 at 14:47:08 by SirSadaar
Arimm watched the strange light of the temple for a few moments before deciding it wasn't as important as the battle below.
He thought the ambush ruse was clever, but his favorite part was coming. The counter-attack....
It was beautiful. So many lives extinguished in the same hour. It was almost a tangible feeling. The smell of blood was only just starting to creep up the hill, drawing a tight smile to his lips.
The great twister of light belched from within the temple suprised him, but the smile remained. This was getting interesting.
Only when the mist was pushed back, and Arimm witnessed their army feasting on itself did his face drop into a grimace.
He barely heard the High General, but understood the mission. Drawing his beautifully crafted twin daggers, Arimm waited. He had nothing to prepare. He was always ready for battle......
Tyrvia lent against her staff, covering her mouth as she yawned. She noticed everyone's eyes were focused on the raging battle below, but this was of little interest to Tyrvia, after all these humans would die soon enough anyway. Relative to the dark skinned elf, humans only lived for a fraction of her long drawn out life and even if they did survive to old age, which is very unlikely, they would make absolutely no difference to the weaving of time and fate.
Her last thought grated on Tyrvia she was in the personal guard of the high general, a man, who although he may think so, would make absolutely no difference to the ways of the world. Time would pass and all those around her now would die before her, well all but the assassin.
The other Avenmephion elf other to herself was the cocky and insubordinate assassin. She trusted him little, after all he was an assassin. The lithe elf, similar to herself, moved with a certain self assuredness and cocky swagger, well that's what it looked like to her.
So wrapped up in her thoughts as she was she hadn't noticed the craning of the others necks to look at the torchlight emanating from the old ruins on the western hillside. What did knock her from her stream of thought was the twisting vortex of light sprouting from the top of the broken ruins.
As she scanned back to the brutal scenes below a mist had appeared upon the battlefield and the first to react were the ever sharp Trinity Defensive, quickly making strange gestures and uttering odd sounding words. Before they managed to clear the unnatural mist the screams and cries of the soldiers down in the valley were heard. What was unclear was just who's side the screams of horror were coming from.
Tyrvia was now fully gripped, her previous philosophical thoughts, that happened so often, were swiftly pushed to the back of her mind. It seemed all of the congregation atop the valley were willing away the mist, not just the Trinity Defensive.
When the mist cleared a scene that which few, if any had seen before had developed. The graveyard in the valley had quickly changed to a unliving moving mass. Those of both sides rose up, their bodies controlled by a craving of death and flesh. Perhaps these Volderi were to shape the world and not live out pitifully small and unfulfilling lives.
The High general, only briefly, had a look of horror and indecision across his face. Quickly he composed himself and realised the root of the problem.
“You are the King’s Blades. You are charged with the duty of delivering our army safely to the gates of Malavar. As of now, you are failing. Get to the ruins, whatever ritual is happening there must be responsible for this blight. Stop it, and pray it releases these corpses from the magic that animates them." He said, locking eyes with each of them.
The group began moving at once and Tyrvia gladly accepted the offer of riding on the Cavaliers mount.
Canicus did not like this one bit, he should be in the midst of battle rather than watching the fighting from a distance. He had been called to war by a much higher power than this so-called High General, just watching did not suit him at all. He should be down there splitting flesh, cracking bones, and purifying the weak with Wengijembdon's holy flames not simply standing around watching while the rank and file had all the fun.
Just as he was about to turn and voice his complaint to the High General the scene below changed immensely. From deep within the ruins there erupted a bright vortex of light and an eerie fog spread over the battlefield. It seemed fairly obvious to Canicus, as it should to anyone with any sort of training in the use of magic, that this was a ritual intended to turn the tide of battle, but looking amongst his fellow Blades he guessed that only the female had any sort of training in magic at all. The point of this ritual became glaringly obvious as the fog was pushed back by the abjurers of the Trinity Defensive; the slain had risen again and were rejoining the fight!
This battle had just gotten interesting, the tide had turned as Wengijembdon's teachings state that it can at any time. Their men were now dropping like flies beneath the onslaught of the risen dead. Canicus barely even heard the orders barked from the High General as he drew his greatsword, the weapon of his God, and rushed into the fray behind the mounted human and female elf. Surely it was Wengijembdon's will that he now join this fight, and he was eager to do so!
Posted on 2012-11-09 at 01:59:46.
Edited on 2012-11-09 at 02:07:11 by Shield Wolf
Istanius was embaressed of the fact that his horse had just knocked Tyrvia on the ground. Luckily, she had managed to land well, but only Istanius was left in the direct line of the advancing zombies. Istanius glanced back to make sure she was OK: however he had more pressing issues at the moment. These zombies that were lumbering towards them. Istanius had never fought undead before. Though He loved to prove himself in combat, Istanius felt no excitment for this fight.
Istanius felt anger burn in him, as he realized that these zombies happened to be Alaron scouts. His countrymen were turned into these morbid monstrosities. It was an unfortunate turn of events to have to fight them.
Istanius knew that he had to let go of his horse. Hopefully, it didn't charge backwards and level the blades. That would not be good, especially after it knocked Tyrvia off of it. Istanius decided it wouldbe best to allow these zombies, these things, to walk towards tham, hence allowing the rest of the blades to fall in. He stood in the center of the path, trying to attempt and hold the zombies back, but if his allies arrived he would move towards the cliffs to make room for them. He raised his sword, ready to lash out at the nearest foe. Istanius was sure that this was not going to be enjoyable
(OOC Istanius readies himself to strike out any zombie that gets near enough to him to do so. He lets go of his horse, and he readies himself to move if his allies arrive.)
Arimm kept up a jogging pace, following the cavalier's horse, though the distance between them slowly increased.
It wasn't long into the journey that the assassin noticed the horse rear, causing the dark elf to fall from it's back. However, she landed on her feet with such agility that Arimm found himself momentarily impressed.
'Probably the only interesting person I work with...' He thought to himself with a grim smile.
'She would make for an interesting mark.'
Quickly closing the distance, he came apon the horse in mere moments.
Sliding around the female elf, he veiwed the abominations ahead. Undead.
Without waiting for a plan to be formed, or for another Blade to take charge, Arimm sheathed his masterwork daggers and loosed two standard daggers toward the zombies, hoping to score a head shot or two. The elf had impressed him. it was time to return the service.
throw daggers at zombies
try to maintain balance while leaning around horse.
Malagaar joined the rest of the blades in advancing to the temple, satisfied that the high general had called for a retreat. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough. He tested the feel of his weapons, making sure he was used to the balance and weight so he wasn't caught off guard during combat.
Then, the horse reared up. 'Stupid beast' he muttered, for he had contempt for those creatures that did nothing more than get in the way. The source of the disturbance reached his nose before his eyes. The stench of the dark puppets causing him to turn his nose up. He pitied them, and spoke a simple prayer for their souls he would release.
''I will save you from this tortured existance'' he muttered, before stepping cautiously forward, aware of his footing, baring his swords at the beasts. When close enough he lunged forward with both blades, aiming to sever the creatures head from it's neck.
(OOC: Move forward, followed by an attack [double attack?] on the zombie closest.)
The horse was racing and Tyrvia was trying to keep up with the cavaliers vastly superior riding ability. She kept her own, or liked to think so at least, her mind was much calmer than the racing background blurring in her peripherals. Obviously the ruins were unlikely to be friendly, but what Tyrvia wanted to know was what kind of unfriendliness awaited them. Was it Necromancers, surrounded by a host of zombie guards? Was she rushing to a portal where demons poured forth from the underworld? Even now she could be riding to her death.
So caught up in these thoughts of death and preparing herself for every eventuality slowly she began to lose focus on the task at hand and her mind wandered once again. Quickly, she was jolted back into the present. Her horse had shied and Tyrvia was thrown from her horse. Fortunately, the ever-quick reflexes inherited from her ancestors took hold as if by instinct and she vaulted smoothly from the saddle twisting her body to land on her feet.
She was in danger now and quickly her eyes darted to the corpses that had scared her mount. There were three of them ambling towards her and Tyrvia cast her medical eye over the undead. Two had broken necks, either they were killed from behind with a swift twist of the head by a pair of assassins or they were simply hung. What confirmed one of her post mortems was the purpling face, clearly the men had been hung.
Unfortunately these post mortems were of little use now that the corpses were moving and hungering for the taste of her flesh. The zombies were coming towards her and all of a sudden she felt a pang of panic rise up her spine. Three were too many for her to take on by herself and the ledge she stood on seemed to halve as she looked back to see if she could escape but her horse blocked the path.
Her faithful familiar Sedra fell in beside her, her lips upturned into a snarl, ready to die for her master. Before she knew it Arimm was there, he slid behind her blocking the path of the three zombies. Tyrvia felt her panic shrink and composed herself trying to decide what was the best course of action.
She drew her quarterstaff with lackluster knowing she was a useless melee combatant. She decided she would let the others fight the three zombies without her help. Instead she would become a rear guard and try to calm the horses. She would be on hand if things got dangerous but for now she held herself in reserve.
Seeing as he was carrying the most gear, or as he liked to see it was the best prepared, Canicus brought up the rear of the charge into the temple that was the source of the ritual. When he noticed that the horse had been spooked and was now pretty much just blocking his advance he realized it was time to change tactics as trying to squeeze past the spooked horse with his greatsword could end disastrously for him. He sheathed the massive blade as he continued forward and focused instead on his on burning rage and the fiery passion of his faith.
Watching as his companions all attempted to do what they could around the horse while trying to traverse the dangerous path they were on, he waited to see which of the shambling abominations was going to be easiest to strike at with the holy flames of his faith. This could be tricky with all the obstructions in his way though.
(Attempting to use Domain Power on which ever zombie he has the clearest line of sight to as there are several other party members and a horse in his direct path 1d6+2 fire damage if he hits. If he can't get a clear line of sight, or it seems incredibly likely that he may hit a friendly target he will instead advance forward, instead drawing the morningstar he carries as it is lighter and less cumbersome while trying to move carefully on this path around a horse, and attempt to instead smash some zombie skull rather than burn them. Of course if he has to resort to the morningtar he'll use Scorching Weapons and burn while he bashes.)
Posted on 2012-11-13 at 02:08:37.
Edited on 2012-11-13 at 02:15:21 by Shield Wolf
With all the strength he could muster, Malagaar thrust his scizore deep into the wretched beast, his oath guiding him to meet his mark. Joy turned to horror however as the blade that plunged into it's chest did nothing more than anger the creature who turned his attention to the dark elf's throat. Horror gave way to pain then as the monster's claws dug into his neck, narrowly missing anything important that could have killed him in a single blow, and withdrew with chunks of his own flesh.
He screamed in agony and reeled from the blow. ''I will not die here, and not to abominations like you'' he muttered, spurring on his own will to live more than an intimidation attempt. To die here would be to prove all those back home right, and he would not do that.
Gathering himself he took a step back to give himself leverage to push forward to land an blow on this beast that would attempt to finish him. Even if his vision blurred, his head lightened and his skin paled. He wouldn't fall so early. He had a duty.
((OOC Not going to let up, instead plan on bringing him down before he can do that again! Another attack on this sad creature.))
Posted on 2012-11-13 at 17:29:54.
Edited on 2012-11-13 at 17:31:09 by KingRat
The horse had not taking to much to calm, just a firm hand a few soothing words into their ears. As soon as the horse was settled Tyrvia looked round to see how her fellow blades were doing against the reanimated bodies.
Her comrades seemed to be doing well. Arimm and Istanius were working together and felled the closest zombie with a mixture of a dagger to the eye, blood spurted all over Istanius from the initial thrown dagger and when the precious daggers came away from the body the eye was still skewered on the tip. Istanius finished the kill with a swift beheading, the body sank down to its knees almost immediately, the twisting head fell a second later and a thump sounded as the skull hit the floor coming to rest near its original owner.
Tyrvia quickly shifted her gaze to the darting Malagaar. He ran almost up the side of the wall opposite the dizzying ledge leaping into his target with surprising ferocity. The scizore was thrust forward hard, so quickly Tyrvia's eyes couldn't follow the movement. It hit the zombie and went almost straight through the undead body of flesh and bone, but this was no normal enemy and although the undead seemed dazed it was had not yet been given the gift of death. Instead it pulled the blade further into its torso so much that Malagaar was now face to face with the grizzly undead scout, so much so that the scizores tip was now sticking out of the zombies back, glistening red blood spurting from the wound. The flesh hungering monster, which was once a man, grabbed at her fellow Avanmephion splattering the dark neck with bright blood as the zombies nails ripped for the throat of the young ranger.
Clearly Malagaar was hurt, it was time for Tyrvia to join the battle bringing her healing powers to play. She knew what to do she had done it plentiful times in the past. Just as she finished reciting the magical words in her mind she was ready to say them aloud. A sudden burst of flame in her peripherals stopped her.
Canicus had stormed into the fray with a dramatic display of fire. He had been slowed by having the most gear, reminding Tyrvia of his useful practicality. He had clearly damaged the slowest zombie, which was now ambling forward ignoring its burning skin.
Tyrvia breathed in, ready to cast Cure Moderate Wounds, before she could she choked on the smell of burning flesh, but after a second breath she was ready and cast the spell with no problem. (OOC: I hope!).
(OOC: Tyrvia will attempt to cast Cure Moderate Wounds on Malagaar. But stay as far awy from the undead as possible.)
Posted on 2012-11-13 at 19:00:16.
Edited on 2012-11-13 at 23:06:47 by Brundel
Arimm didn't pause as his first target was brought down. Two more remained, one now burned, and the other having just torn a chunk out of the Male Dark Elf's throat.
'That didn't take long...' The assassin thought, drawing his masterwork daggers and pushing forward. the path was very congested, leading to treacherous steps. Damn Horse.
But now he was up further, sliding past the possibly dying elf and bringing the razor sharp blades up into the Zombie that still had dark flesh clutched in it's maw.
With the horse calmed and pulled to the side, as out of the way as could be managed on this narrow ledge, Canicus decided it was time to move directly into the fray where he belonged. He charged into the battle, drawing his morningstar as he pressed forward to engage the now burnt corpse he had previously targeted with the fiery bolts granted to him by his faith. As he focused his burning rage and the fire that flowed in his veins the morningstar seemed to almost glow red-hot, and in fact it was as he prepared to bring it down into the decaying head of his foe with the force of a two-handed swing.
(Scorching Weapon feat, additional 1 point of fire damage on top of the damage from the morningstar, swinging it with both hands as well, force of habit from the greatsword training. If it is at all feasible to do so he will attempt to flank his target, if he can do so without putting himself at more risk than charging at a hungry zombie already puts him in)
Posted on 2012-11-14 at 01:57:12.
Edited on 2012-11-14 at 04:04:45 by Shield Wolf
Istanius saw Malagaar leap and bury his weapon deep into a zombie. Istanius was shocked when the attack didn't even seem to faze the zombie. It attacked Malagaar, leaving a huge gash on his throat. Istanius shouted, " Malagaar! Fall Back!" Istanius wasn't to suprised when Malagaar seemingly ignored him. Istanius needed a knew plan.
Istanius came up with a fairly simple plan. It was dangerous, but he needed to draw the zombies off of Malagaar. Istanius' plan was to charge the zombies and push them back, while leaving himself safely next to cliff wall. He didn't want to be anywhere near the straight drop.
(OOC so Istanius is going to run at the zombies along the cliff wall (not the drop) and push the zombies straight backwards. He is just trying to move the zombies away from Malagaar, not defeat them on his own. Istanius will try to avoid going anywhere near the cliff's drop, and will sacrifice some power to do that.)