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Group 30 
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Scourge
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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“The dung-heap princeling and his dragon-kin will be formidable opponents if roused,” stated the bloodshade, “And there are many more dangerous things that stalk the underway, some warriors to serve as bait may prove useful. You may travel with us, uplanders.”
“Gee, thanks,” sneered T’Keela.
“Your companion has an almost admirable desire to meet the void’s teeth,” smiled the bloodshade as he turned to Malthang, “Shame he was not born an orc, he has the deathwish and intelligence to suit.”
The leader of the shades made a series of intricate hand signs, gesturing at each of his band in turn, who wordlessly dispersed, some disappearing down tunnels, others taking up positions ahead and behind the hunters with crossbows primed. Gesturing for them to lead on, the bloodshade melted into the darkness, his own weapon in hand. The hunters shared an uneasy glance, and then walked on, passing through the cavern and into another enclosed tunnel. Their steps echoed off the suffocating stone walls and their breath misted in the chill air as they marched. Amalii’s pale flame lit their way somewhat and suffused each of the party, save perhaps Sirulleathe, with some small measure of warmth, but the journey was still cold, dark and miserable. The dull monotony of the pursuit was occasionally interrupted by a shade slipping past to deliver a report to their leader or to range on ahead, the Autarii were a constant presence, but one which was nigh-on impossible to notice, even when looking for them. Shadows would slip along the walls and it was impossible to tell if it was one of the clansmen or just a flickering of Amalii’s flames.

Beyond their own group and the noble, this area of the underway was unsettlingly empty. No creatures, great or small, roamed these parts of the tunnels and judging from the lack of markings, droppings or indeed any other trace of life, none had for some time.
As the way ahead narrowed, numerous side tunnels branched off into the darkness, for a time the nauglir tracks followed the main path, but after a while they veered down one of the tributaries and from there meandered through a bewildering maze of twists and turns which left all of the hunters feeling thoroughly disorientated. The tunnels became progressively smaller until Selkoreth was forced to stoop and the to-ing and fro-ing of the shades ceased altogether. As they rounded another corner the tunnel came to an abrupt end. So abrupt in fact that Malthang almost walked off the edge of what looked to be a fairly steep drop, though he managed to stop himself just in time. Amalii shuffled forwards to illuminate the way ahead, and revealed a sloping path which branched out into an enormous cave, the floor falling steeply away before settling into an even plateau some 20 feet below and the ceiling disappearing from view. The vast, cavernous space swallowed all light, a hole beneath the earth that stretched on and on.

“Our destination,” whispered the bloodshade as he appeared suddenly in the middle of the hunter group, startling Amalii so badly that the little mage shrieked and leaped into the air, his flame vanishing with a pop. The bounty hunters felt the shade’s smile in the darkness as Amalii muttered a few words and snapped his fingers, bringing a flickering kernel of light into existence which soon expanded into a fistful of warmth, the vauvalka somehow looking deeply embarrassed despite his mask preventing anyone from seeing his expression.
“This area of the tunnels was carved by underground rivers long ago, we have been mapping them out for some time looking for an expanse such is this. It must have been an underground sea, but has long since dried out, unusual and valuable creatures gather on underworld plains such as these, it is the only place where the truly big monsters can fit.” The shade was grinning maliciously as he explained, apparently amused by the idea of confronting the larger beasts that lurked beneath the earth.
“Your quarry certainly has courage. Tread lightly in this place, friends, you are less likely to come across something that would bother with you, but anything that does stir will be worthy prey to take down.”
With his peace said the shade vanished, sinking back into the shadows that he held so dear. Hesitantly, the group slid down the sharp face of the rock to land in a crumpled heap below, Amalii making comical noises as he rolled down the slope whilst Sirulleathe glided on the balls of his feet, floating wraith-like to land gracefully on level ground. The shades that accompanied them spread out in a loose circle, ranging ahead to locate anything worthy of subduing whilst the warriors of the hunter party stood shakily to their feet and brushed some of the grime and dust off their armour. Deep claw marks marred the stone where a nauglir had scrambled down the slope, and then loped off across the cavern, the marks of it’s heavy tread following the walls for a time before veering towards the centre of the vast emptiness.
“It’s going to be a long journey,” sighed T’Keela as he stared into the void.


Whew, sorry guys, I know I’m behind in making this modpost but new year was more eventful than I had anticipated and I’ve just been slapped in the face with the wet fish of a realisation that I have exams next week so I will be taking a break from modposts for the duration of this batch of exams. Deadline is therefore Friday 20th January so you have a nice long time to plot, murder each other or just chill. Now’s the time to look at skill building, talk to your compatriots or the NPCs, discuss tactics and decide how you are going to proceed, for instance, do you still want Amalii to provide light? Are you going to continue following the trail of the noble? I will still be available for messaging if you have queries or concerns or want to talk about skill-building etc. Good luck!

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Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Thu Jan 05, 2012 9:55 pm
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Malthang stood in the underground cavern, in awe at the natural wonder that surrounded him. It was at least as impressive as the forests of his birth but in a different way. The wooded lands give a sense of security in their finite nature, you knew the borders, the paths, the creatures, where you could go and where you couldn't or shouldn't without much preparation. This cavern was awe inspiring in its infinite space. A ceiling so high above that there appeared not to be one at all, the great columns of rock forming the foundations for another world far above the shades head. The thought sent a minuscule shiver up his spine. He strained his senses to their utmost to try and discern even the smallest stimuli from the void that was presented to him.



"The tracks lead into the interior of the chamber, I vote we follow them soon lest we end up being the hunted instead of the hunter. The lordling will have a reason for coming here and I for one want to know what that is. Shades, do you wish to continue with us? If so it might be wise to teach us your silent language so we may communicate without attracting undue attention."

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Fri Jan 20, 2012 1:55 pm
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Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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T'Keela yawned as the leader of the shade group recanted his tail about underground rivers & big beasties, though his sudden appearing act next to Amalii brought forth a small chuckle from the noble. He folded his arms & scratched the back of his ankle with the opposite toe, but the thick, worn leather of his boots prevented him from curbing the itch that had developed. He might have seemed bored & full of bravado, but the crushing darkness of the caverns was an altogether different kind of depressing than what he was used to in the cities, No wonder the misbegotten & malformed live down here, the claw marks that were gouged out of the floor, made by nauglir as the shade had pointed, got T'Keela thinking about what it was that the strange noble could have been looking for, though perhaps if he was brave or foolish enough to come looking for it by himself, it was better off not knowing... Then again, the potential for power gave the hearts of men, or more precisely elves the best kind of determination. A long, slow, cruel smile cut the features of T'Keela. He failed to even hear Malthang's request to learn the shade's silent language, for he was looking down the tunnels, ready & eager to set off in search of their wayward quarry & what ever treasure lurked at the end of his path.

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Sat Jan 21, 2012 2:17 am
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor leaned back against the rough surface of the cavern wall and took a seat while Malthang and the other Shade discussed their best strategy. For his part he knew little of the deeps and would leave that to the Shades.

In the mean time. He took a sip from his waterskin and slung it back on his belt.

Now's as a good a time as any to think. He laced his fingers behind his head and opened the place where he kept all his doubts and fears and beyond those, and in a way even more terrifying, his hopes and dreams. Which were so fragile, and he felt, so unlikely, that if he thought on them too much they would vanish.

For a moment he felt a wave of despair at the suffocating darkness and his life and it threatened to overwhelm him as he laid his illusions aside. He gritted his teeth and fought it back, after all he'd had plenty of practice.

Do you matter at all? For that question he had no answer.

Who are you?

That at least he could answer, he was a man trying to find something important, something to believe in, something that gave it all meaning, something that made it all worth it. Did he believe in Khaine or any of the other things that were part the Druchii way of life? No, not for a very long time. If he ever had, all that had ever brought to him and the handful of people he cared about was misery.

He'd taken pride in his service, as much as he hated the Army he also loved it and sometimes he wondered why he'd ever left and he'd earned his stipend. But now that he and Selkoreth had been captured in Ghrond he didn't even have that.

Is there anything that matters, to you anyway? Yes, there was his family and he knew that his Stipend combined with his Father's was enough to ensure that they could get through the lean times and now thanks to his stupidity they wouldn't have that. Which would mean that Da would have to rejoin and he wasn't a young man.

Helkor felt a familiar surge of futile rage and desperation and the knowledge that he couldn't do anything about it made it worse. Then, to his surprise, a few tears slid down his face. He looked up at the ceiling of the cavern, raised an open hand sent a prayer to the sky above. "Please. . . help me. Because I cannot help myself. . . Just. . . give me a fighting chance. It's all I ever asked." He whispered.

The cavern was still as dark and cold as ever. But in a way, maybe it wasn't as bad.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Sat Jan 21, 2012 6:17 pm
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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“We do not give our secrets so lightly,” said the bloodshade in response to Malthang’s request, “a cousin you may be, but not a brother, we have not shared salt nor spilt blood together. So for now, know that what we wish you to understand we will tell you and all that is to stay our own shall remain beyond you. If you earn our trust, perhaps I could call you brother, but for now, we shall have our secrets, and you will have yours.”
The bloodshade gave a knowing smirk as he spoke the last few words, and then dissolved into the shadows again.
“Bloody know-it-all shades, why can’t they just talk straight,” cursed T’Keela.
“Why does anyone but a simpleton or a warrior have at least a small modicum of intelligence and a sense of self-preservation?” Malthang sneered back.
T’Keela glared, but the shade ignored him and marched on in pursuit of the tracks, and the rest of the party soon followed, swallowed up by the abyssal blackness of the cavern.

An hour passed, stone columns loomed out of the darkness, passing on either side, indistinct pillars of rock that stretched into the vaults overhead. The tracks they followed seemed to wander aimlessly at times, and at other points forged ahead straight as an arrow, like a dog continuously losing and rediscovering a scent. As they walked, the columns began to appear with increasing frequency, at first they would only find one every other hundred yards, but they began to close together until it was almost like walking in a sparse forest of frozen trees. The columns themselves were nothing particularly special, limestone deposits that had formed centuries ago, stretching up from the floor and hanging down from the ceiling until they met in the middle, and then had slowly been eroded by the passage of ages. But as they got further into the stone forest, the columns started to take on a different finish, sleek trails a finger’s-width wide burrowed in spirals around the pillars, ascending into darkness and polishing the stone beneath to a mirror sheen. The floor too bore the same marks, though some of the trails were at least as wide across as a strongman’s bicep, and they began to intertwine and overlap until the individual trails were no longer discernible, the whole floor became like smoothly planed and polished marble.

Malthang held up a hand, the hunter party behind him shuffled to a halt, wondering what the shade’s keen senses had felt. Ravensbane’s body was tensed, every nerve on edge as a quiet rustling began to fill his ears, coming from all directions, rebounding off the smooth stone that surrounded them.
“What do you hear?” Whispered Helkor.
“Trouble,” replied Malthang.
“This is your first test, our erstwhile companions.” The bloodshade’s voice floated out of the darkness, he was nowhere to be seen, “Let us find out what the pit has placed in our path.”

Every hunter strained their senses, waiting… and waiting.
T’Keela spun on his heel, a shimmering arc of quicksilver carved a figure of eight around his body as his sword spun in a dizzying defensive arc. There was an inhuman screech and the sound of rubbery flesh reluctantly parting in a splatter of gore, and then twin thumps as something hit the floor. Amalii’s light washed over the two halves of a serpentine creature, three feet long and only a few inches wide, it resembled some weird offspring of a worm and a snake. Sickly white skin showed in bare patches the glossy black scales did not cover. It’s head was nothing more complicated than a circular maw, rows of razor-sharp teeth glinting all the way down the creature’s throat. Three deeply-set eyes burned a fiery red, the glow leaving them as the creature’s life faded. An acrid stench rose from the remains as acidic bile, what might have passed for the creature’s blood or perhaps merely stomach acids, began swiftly dissolving the flesh of the wyrm until after a few minutes there was nothing more than a small pockmark and some faint acid burns on the stone to mark where the creature had fallen.
“A Chaos worm, I’m quaking in my lice-infested boots,” spat T’Keela.
A set of coal red eyes blinked into life in the darkness, at the base of one of the pillars. And another.
And another.
And another.
T’Keela cursed vividly.
“Doesn’t matter if there are thirty of the little shites,” snarled Helkor as he brought up his blade, counting a full dozen of the burning embers in the blackness, “these are just tiny bugs to be exterminated.”
Then one of the wyrms slithered into the circle of Amalii’s light, hissing as the brightness burned into its eyes. The creature’s body was lumpen and twisted, but as it reared up onto its tail, it towered over the 7 foot height of Selkoreth, and was as thick around as an ogre’s thigh.
Malthang sighed. “You just had to open your big mouth.”

So then! Sorry this post is late, busy busy busy, but the good news is exams are out of the way and things should be back to normal I hope. So, you are in this underground area, there are some worms, some appear to be quite big, they also don’t appear to be very happy. What are you going to do about it?
Deadline is Friday.

_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Tue Jan 24, 2012 11:01 pm
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Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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T'Keela was beginning to think he was cursed, only he could have been capable of so gracefully slaughtering a foe & in its wake be welcomed by the sight of more of its companions. His efficient figure of eight manoeuvre had left the first of the worms in pieces, its blood quickly dissolving the remains. The noble quivered in his boots at the thought of what it could do to his own flesh... or his sword. With a quick glance at his sword he noticed it seemed to be relatively whole, & with a grim smile took up a fighting stance, ready to lash out at the worms before him.

Despite the sense of security that Amalii's light had previously given the group of erstwhile hunters, it now seemed to be doing them less & less favours with act passing minute, although its stinging brightness did seem to cause some level of discomfort to the maddened, red eyes of the worms. A reprieve at last perhaps, although considering what his luck seemed to be turning out to be like, surely there was soon to be some event that would turn things to looking rather sour for the noble.

"Keep in the light, it obviously hurts them or at least doesn't help them as much as it helps us.." suggested T'Keela, "might I also add that it might be beneficial to your health to avoid getting any of their vital fluids on your person." Without further adieu, T'keela darted forth to strike out at the worm that had reared its ugly head within the field of light, & hoping that Selkoreth would keep its attention, & the others would watch his back, attempt to strike out with a powerful, two-handed overhead chop to try & sever the beast in two...

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Wed Jan 25, 2012 10:18 am
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Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
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Malthang grimaced in disgust at the worm like creature that had fallen into two pieces at T'Keela's feet... and then slowly started to eat itself with it's own internal fluid. He focused his attention on his surroundings again just in time to see the collection of floating, baleful red eyes staring back at him and the mocking tone of the accompanying shade leader ringing in his ears. As he cautiously surveyed the area one considerably larger worm decided to poke his head into the light just long enough for T'Keela to decide it would be a good idea to charge into it. Malthang realised just how exposed his flank had become with one of the warriors now charging towards the monstrosity that had made itself apparent. Malthang retreated towards Amalii, an idea that very very rarely constituted an idea to aid in the preservation of your life, but he had little choice at this point. Readying his crossbow the shade prepared to support the warriors in the melee, keeping their flanks clear and preventing them from a rather unpleasant tumble off the mortal coil.

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Sat Jan 28, 2012 12:08 am
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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Black shadows flickered in Amalii’s firelight as the shades fired a hail of bolts into the mass of onrushing wyrms, a chorus of soul-shuddering squeals of pain howled out of the darkness and several of the baleful red eyes slumped to the ground and winked out of existence. T’Keela charged forwards, his sword flashing in a glittering arc of death, but the monstrous chaos snake curled sinuously under the stroke and reared up again to strike. Two sharp hisses punctuated by dull thumps heralded Malthang’s entrance into the fight, his crossbow bolts striking the creature’s soft underbelly, one merely clipping the flesh, but the other burying itself deep in the beast’s guts. Crimson eyes the size of snooker balls swivelled in the shade’s direction as the snake halted it’s assault mid-lunge. Impossibly it seemed to hang in mid-air, as if gravity had suddenly just decided to give up and head off to the pub for a pint. Shivers rolled along the monster’s body in waves as it writhed and coiled itself into a spring, and then launched itself at Ravensbane like a cannonball. The white blur of flab and muscle streaked across the circle of light, jaw distending to reveal a cavernous throat lined with gnashing rows of teeth and a thick coat of acidic bile. Malthang’s eyes widened in the second it took the thing to cross the distance between them, the beast shuddered with the impacts of crossbow bolts along it’s flanks but would not be diverted from it’s course.

Then there was the sound and heat and light of a supernova roaring in all directions.
Blackness.

Malthang’s senses slowly recovered. His vision went from one great white splodge to a midnight sky sparkling with stars that twirled lazily and drooled across the vista in rainbow-hued streaks, somewhere behind it all there were murky towers of stone rising into darkness, and the occasional pinprick of red light. The sulphuric tang of brimstone slowly receded from his nostrils to be replaced by the cold, damp musk of the cave and the gut-wrenching stench of thoroughly singed putrid meat. The silence in his ears went from the empty silence of deafness to the softer silence given by merely an absence of noise.

As Ravensbane’s eyes slowly came back into focus and shooed away the spots in his vision, he saw Amalii looking slightly wide eyed and breathless beside him with his arms raised in the air, and a circle of floor melted like glass directly in front of his feet with the remains of a flash fried worm at its centre. His nose felt a fraction shorter, and the cold air caressed a toe that hadn’t been open to the elements before, coincidentally it also now had a very finely trimmed toenail.
Amalii released the breath he’d been holding.
“That was a close shave,” he muttered weakly, a shaky grin drooping from his face.
Malthang’s jaw hung slack, the shade lost for words as a fine hair on his upper lip gracefully disintegrated into ash and drifted to the ground.

“Pay attention,” barked T’Keela, shattering the silence, “We’ve got bigger problems.” The warrior pointed a finger up into the vaults overhead, directing their eyes to a pair of red pinpricks slinking up the side of one of the pillars. Another pair appeared, and another, and another. Malthang followed their path upwards, upwards, upwards until he was looking directly up into the roof, and far overhead, he found yet another pair. This set of eyes was coming downwards though, towards them. It was coming down pretty fast, dropping infact, perhaps even diving would be a more accurate description, gravity apparently having decided it was time to get back to work and flexing its muscles to make up for its embarrassing abandonment of post earlier. As the eyes descended, a maw dangling somewhere between them let out a single, ululating screech. As one, a sea of red eyes flickered to life above them, hundreds upon hundreds of them, each eye a subtly different shade of red. Some were the size of dinner plates.
There was a sound rather like a large strip of Velcro being ripped off. And the eyes started to get closer. Descending, like a titanic column of sanguine rain, studded with sharp teeth.

Hmm, well, it seems you’ve got some friends on the way. It appears that there are more than a few of the creatures attatched to pillars up in the proverbial rafters of the cavern, which have now woken up, and dropped from the upper levels. When I say more than a few, the number is well into the hundreds, and some of them are probably quite big. The sea of wyrms does not stretch over a huge area, a hundred yards or so, so running away is an option. Ahead of you the space between the pillars narrow considerably until there is only a couple of metres between them, back the way you’ve come the pillars are wider and more spacious, to your left the pillars space out until they completely disappear about 50 yards away, the ground also slopes downwards gently there, to your right the pillars stay fairly constant and the ground begins to slope at about a 10 degree angle upwards. Some of the shades are getting down off the pillars immediately, all of the wyrms that were on the ground attacking you have been slain, now ‘all’ you have to worry about are the ones above you. The tracks you were following lead off to the right by the way.

Malthang your senses are slightly scrambled and you are abit dazed courtesy of Amalii, T’Keela you’re weapon is beginning to show signs of corrosion from the acid coating it. It appears the larger the creatures are, the more potent their acid is. Lovely.
On an OOC note, my weekends have suddenly become very busy hence why I am making the mod posts a day later than normal recently, do you all feel you still have time to write for a Friday deadline if I post on Tuesday night or do you want me to move the deadline? So for now I will set the deadline for this Friday but subject to revision.

_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Wed Feb 01, 2012 12:06 am
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor swore softly, they'd been doing pretty good until their enemy decided to bring their numbers to bear.

"This makes the northern front look almost safe and familiar." His lips drew as more Wyrms began dropping from the cold ceiling and he glanced down to see the tracks of the Nauglir leading away to the right.

"We need to head right and get out of this death-trap, while those damned shades are occupied."

And so Helkor readied his weapon, raised his shield over his head and took the way right.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Sat Feb 04, 2012 2:54 am
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Malthang reeled slightly, allowing his sense to recover. Just in time to notice that the group were in considerably more trouble than they were moments ago. The human phrase "out of the cookpot, onto the campfire" came rapidly to mind with the sort of unhelpful gallows humour that all such situations tend to inspire. The falling curtain of eyes and teeth shook the remnants of inaction from him to hear Helkor talking about running away from their erstwhile allies. Still swaying slightly he made to move towards the shades, they were the nearest thing he had to kin within a considerable distance. In his slightly stunned state he had a small chuckle at the idea that perhaps T'Keela had kin even closer as they were falling from the ceiling to try to consume them.

"This way! We stand a better chance if we stick together. Get clear of the area! Move!" He disliked the slight slur that his words had but began to run in the same direction as the shades to get clear of the impact zone of lots of worm meat. Malthang hoped he was moving in the right direction but would follow the shades either way, while their quarry lay to the right the shades know the underground caverns best and the shade was reluctant at best to reduce the number of available weapons. Besides, he had given his word to his kin that they would work together. Druchii are fickle but a shade's kinship, even that of an outcast, is strong enough for that, albeit for slightly self preserving reasons!

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Mon Feb 06, 2012 5:06 pm
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T'Keela could do little but stare in wonder at the sight before him, for the entire ceiling had seemed to have come alive with the glowing, red coals of hundreds of hungry eyes. The flash of magic without a doubt from Amalii had left him disorientated & momentarily stunned, although his senses returned quickly & he noticed his companions & their erstwhile shade companions running off down a tunnel to the right, had he paid a little bit more attention he would have noticed the cold one tracks leading down the dark tunnel, however in his panic he did little but sheathe the sword that had become started it's journey towards being little more than a cracked, crumpled piece of metal.

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Mon Feb 06, 2012 8:45 pm
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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Confusion reigned as Druchii shouted out conflicting orders and panic set in when the curtain of doom above them began to descend. A flurry of incomprehensible hand signs fluttered among the shades and then they started dashing forwards, heading for the closely set pillars directly ahead. There was a moment’s indecision, and then at the same moment Malthang chased after the shades, Helkor charged off to the right alone and the rest of the party shared confused glances as they were torn between following the shades and following the warrior. The moment of indecision was torn away when a scream echoed from the space to their left. All eyes snapped in the same direction as an indistinct figure emerged out of the gloom. It was running. Fast.

The Druchii raced past in a blur, casting a glance over its shoulder and, as if in response, something in the blackness hissed. It was like a thousand deep-throated kettles were being brought to the boil whilst being polished vigorously with sandpaper, a rumbling, rasping growl that rattled on on implacably like it would never stop.
And then it did stop.
And in its place, there was a much fainter echo, like the sound of gravel crunching underfoot, and it gradually got louder… and louder.

The shades froze in their tracks, cocking their heads at the strange mix of sounds. Then the bloodshade cursed and glanced up. Above the shade party’s heads were more sets of the eerie red eyes slinking their way down, the close-set pillars making it easier for the creatures to gather specifically over their targets. This time there were no complicated hand signs, as one the shades turned and sprinted to the right, hot on the heels of Helkor and the fleeing Druchii.

Helkor turned and looked in bewilderment as an elf he’d never seen before in his life raced past, and then risked a glance over his shoulder to see the entire hunter party stampeding along behind him.
“Damnit!” swore the warrior, “they were supposed to get eaten whilst we got away, was it too much to ask that they just play bait for us?”
But no, that wasn’t quite right, one of the shades had stayed behind. Or to be more accurate, one of the shades was completely frozen in mid-stride, glancing over their shoulder much as Helkor was doing, it was quite impressive really, how they stood so perfectly still. Then the warrior noticed that the shade’s skin was the same colour as their hair, and indeed all the rest of them, a uniform, stonish grey.
“By the Kraken’s puckered, titanic arsehole,” whispered Helkor. He wrestled his gaze away and forced himself to stare directly ahead of himself, redoubling his pace as he charged on with renewed vigour.
The shade’s eyes were locked open and filled with marrow-curdling terror, the elf’s lips captured halfway through shaping a name to give to its terror:
“Basilisk.”

Well then, first things first, I must apologise for being so atrociously late, some things have caught up with me over the past week and I don’t have quite the free time I used to, but I’m going to try to keep my postings as on-track as possible, I’m planning to make my mod-posts on Mondays for now until I get my schedule sorted out more. So now everybody is heading towards the right seeing how Helkor, the shades and the mysterious fleeing Druchii all seem to be of the mind that right is the way to go. The wyrms are still falling from above, and now there are more to what used to be ahead but is now your left after having turned to the right. Try and orientate yourselves now :P So what’s the plan? Monsters above, to the left and behind you, and the tracks leading now dead ahead.
Deadline is this Friday.


_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Tue Feb 14, 2012 12:12 am
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Post 
Malthang grunted in irritation. Never a dull moment the shade thought wistfully. He turned gracefully on the spot and began sprinting along with the rest of the makeshift party, a basilisk is a fearful creature and not one he planned on getting caught by. Then again, he didn't necessarily have to outrun the beast, only T'Keela. The thought brought a wry smile to his face as he ran along with the others, ready to distance himself if need be in the cause of self preservation. Stealth had been temporarily abandoned but there was nothing for it. Still holding his crossbow, Malthang ran.

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Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Tue Feb 21, 2012 1:25 pm
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Posts: 400
Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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Time seemed to have slowed to a halt for T'Keela, especially as things seem to be perpetually going from bad to worse & then somehow managing to dig the young dark elf even further. He pondered the fact that he was currently miles underground & stuck in the middle of a vipers nest, not to mention the red eyed, chaos worms that seemed to have no end to their numbers. The shade party was another thing, they were most definitely potential allies for Malthang, though the majority of the their interaction was simply murderous banter, even the contemptuous T'Keela, had begun to notice the intent change, grow & gradually become more... real, & much, much more blood thirsty. The elf laughed, for he had no problem with this, he would gladly take the opportunity to put the shade down like a pathetic human, cripple him & find some poor starved beast to feed Malthang to. A murderous grin spread across T'Keela's face, but only momentarily, for reality quickly came rushing back in, then again it could have been the sudden racket of every Druchii in the immediate vicinity scrabbling in terror. No, it must be the burning in my legs, running in armour is horrible idea.

T'Keela through a glance towards the worsening condition of his blade, that damned beasts blood at begun to change & transmute it, no longer was it gleaming & flawless, but it was rapidly becoming rusted & worthless. He considered throwing it to the ground, but then the dispossessed noble thought better of it, after all it would be better to have near useless blade, than no blade surely?

Despite the growing exhaustion, spreading from his thighs & up through his diaphragm, he felt a sudden burst of energy, even as his lungs began to burn under the exertion, for he found himself unable to stop himself from gazing over his shoulders & looking at what it was the rest of the fleeing Druchii had found so mesmerising; the sight of living, breathing flesh turning to stone. A basilisk! Groaned T'Keela, honestly, how could this get any worse? Thought he spoke to no one in particular, he noticed that Malthang had begun to overtake him, with a start, he realised he was the last member of their mismatched grouped & therefore the closest the ravening beast. Cold fear clutched at his heart, he knew there was little left to do but get ahead of the rest of the group, he would most certainly die on his own in the these god-forsaken tunnels, but he would rather count the days until he died, over the seconds he had left to live, with the way things seemed to be heading.

With little left to do, he sucked in a huge breath of the thin, stake air of the tunnels & pushed his legs to carry him past his companions, & for once into the arms of safety...

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Tue Feb 21, 2012 2:55 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor watched as Malthang and T'Keela caught up. He would have continued but he wasn't sure if he could run faster than the basilisk, something that made the chaos seem positively harmless in comparison.

"Damn." He muttered. He lifted his shield up in the direction of the basilisk and glanced at the polished metal boss, hoping he would see the basilisk's reflection and hoping that wouldn't petrify him as he started back into the cavern.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Wed Feb 22, 2012 5:21 pm
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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Terror drove itself deep into the souls of the hunters, anchoring itself with barbed talons of dread into their hearts as a slimy tail of fear curled itself around their bellies. The Basilisk was awe-inspiring, it was enormous, and it was gaining. Helkor turned to face the colossal creature, using the reflection of his shield to watch the creature without meeting its stare directly. All the warrior could see in the burnished gleam of the metal was dust and smoke as the titanic snake thundered towards them in a mass of writhing curls. Then his gaze locked onto two gleaming red pinpricks of light. The Basilisk’s eyes blared into life with the intensity of supernovas, incomprehendable power burning into the warrior’s chest like searchlights blazing through fog. Dully, Helkor felt his eyes twitch and shudder, he lost focus and the world blurred. Dimly he felt his finger-joints begin to stiffen, and all sense of feeling leaving his toes, his jaw clicked closed and a horrible creaking sound like boulders being ground relentlessly together assaulted his ears as he felt his cheeks tingle, and then burn like fire, before an icy cold enveloped the tip of his nose and travelled, millimetre by millimetre, outwards.

It was slow, agonisingly slow. Helkor felt an eternity pass as something in his back twinged and the same hard, numbing cold began to inch its way up his spine. His movements slowed like he was running through water, and then stopped altogether, his body frozen halfway through turning from the terrifying leviathan of chaos, but his eyes still unable to tear themselves away from the laser-stare of the Basilisk.

Somewhere, vaguely, he felt something clap on his shoulder, it felt like he was wearing a dozen thick wool blankets between his flesh and whatever was touching him. But then something spoke, deep words of fire and brimstone that rumbled into the pit of his stomach and cut through the transcendental fog that had enveloped Helkor’s mind. His muscles flexed painfully as something blossomed in his chest, a power far cleaner and more pure than the touch of chaos that corrupted his flesh, it swelled, growing in strength and vigour, and then burst along his nerves in coruscating sparks of lightning energy that rolled along his limbs like thunderclaps, an invigorating heat thawing the ice that had closed about his skin. With a wordless roar of anger, every muscle in his body straining at the chains that enveloped them, Helkor broke free of the taint, flakes of stone splintering off his biceps and peeling from the brief patches that had begun to spread across his face as the blazing fires burned them from his skin.

Helkor took a deep breath, his whole body felt as stiff as a board, but he could still move, and as his eyes mercifully regained focus he found that he had broken the gaze of the Basilisk. He felt it now, a reassuring hand grasping his shoulder firmly, still tingling with faint traces of power. Helkor turned and looked into the calm features of Selkoreth, the Khainite’s eyes, partially hidden behind his long strands of moonlight-silver hair, fading from a deep, blood-lustful red to their more normal amethyst hue.
“Khaine abhors the touch of chaos in his servants,” he whispered, the faintest chords of strain could be detected in his voice, and now that Helkor had returned fully to his senses, he could feel the faintest tremor in the elf’s hand that clutched his shoulder and could see him taking deep, steadying breaths. A fireball came roaring over their shoulders, stirring the Khainite’s cloak and whipping his hair into a frenzy with its passing but Sirulleathe paid it no mind. The incandescent ball of flame hit something behind them with a dull thwack at about Basilisk head-height, if Helkor had to make an informed guess, Helkor’s head began to turn in an instinctive reaction to see the effects, but the grip on his shoulder brought him back again, to fall into the Khainite’s eyes, their depthless tides of murder and blood, it was like having ice water poured down his back, sobering him instantly.
“Even a reflected glance will kill,” hissed Sirulleathe, “I have not the strength to cleanse you again, this creature’s power is immense, I almost couldn’t break its hold the first time.”
A childish curse of frustration rang out in Amalii’s voice as he realised that whatever he had thrown at the chaos mutant hadn’t worked. Sirulleathe removed his hand and straightened, turning to face the oncoming beast, but keeping his eyes firmly locked on his companions.
“We can’t defeat this. Run, I will buy you time.”
The hunters hesitated for a moment as their companion turned away and began to walk towards the basilisk in an unhurried manner, a prayer to Khaine slithered from his lips in an ancient elvish tongue unintelligible to the others, it swelled in strength until it rattled along their bones in a rumbling but melodious voice that chanted out arcane entreaties to the Lord of Murder at thunderous volume. Droplets of blood rolled off Sirulleathe’s fingertips to patter lightly against the ground as he glided calmly forwards, somehow radiating a lethal poise whilst looking so laid back that if he went any further he might fall into a coma.
Helkor heard a dozen feet behind him break into a dead run, and they weren’t coming towards him. Reluctantly the warrior turned and followed his fleeing companions, leaving the Khainite to his fate.

Malthang cursed as he turned his back on the basilisk and ran, hot on the heels of the shade party just ahead. A screech from above reminded him of the other peril in their current situation, glancing up, he swore again as he saw the tide of chaos wyrms, or more accurately, baby basilisks, so close above now and hurtling down at break-neck speed, he could almost make out individual snake-bodies and attribute the glowing red-hot coals the things had as eyes to each individual monster now. He scanned forwards until he found the leading edge of the falling tide of worm-flesh. So close now. But the things were racing to the ground like bullets, accelerated by gravity’s pull along the hundreds of metres from the ceiling, Malthang’s vision narrowed down to a shadowed tunnel and he felt his heart pounding in his ears as he turned every muscle towards escape. With a sick sort of morbid fascination Malthang’s eyes focused on one of the larger wyrm’s falling from the heavens, the brute had a chitinous shell curving in plates from head to tail, its maw was clamped firmly closed, unlike many of its wailing kin, and it looked like it would land directly in his path. So directly infact that it would probably land on top of him and squash him flat. Malthang grimaced, a few of the shades ahead of him might make it out, but it looked like the rest of the party was in for a very heavy shower.
Then Amalii came charging up beside him, a giggling rhyme skipping from the mage’s lips as he took two running jumps and then leapt into the air. Clicking his feet together, golden fire exploded from the Vauvalka’s heels, sending him arcing up into the darkness. At the height of his jump he pirouetted neatly, hands brushing together in a wash of sparks like two flints striking each other, the flickering moths of light quickened into a fountain of molten gold that roared into life in a wave that cascaded out around him, the intense flames formed a comforting blanket overhead, as if someone had thrown a silver sheet over the world that muffled all sound and feeling. Then it flashed white in a blaze of light so intense that, if the hunters had been above the explosion, they would have seen the far vaults of the ceiling highlighted a kilometre overhead, and the soft noiselessness was actually revealed to be the rumble of the fireball that was so low and powerful that it simply subverted all sound into a deafening sort of silence.
Malthang ground to a halt, turning away from the blinding flash of light just in time, judging from the alarmingly frazzled cast of the spots that danced across his view. Behind him he saw Sirulleathe, back lighted as if he was in some glorious painting, strolling sedately forwards. As the worms reached him the Khainite didn’t even break his stride, spinning in a languorous arc between one step and another. Drawing his sword and dagger in one fluid motion, weaving them about him in one complex, quicksilver flash as he turned through 360 degrees. The bodies of a dozen worms fell about him in quivering lumps, vivisected by the impenetrable sphere of razored steel the elf had drawn about himself. As steam rose from the dissolving corpses the Khainite walked on. Another of the beasts threw itself at him as it somehow recovered from the immense fall, it uncurled like a spring catapulted through the air, wailing the piercing screech of the proto-basilisks. It came within a foot of Sirulleathe’s body, and simply disintegrated.
The Khainite walked on.
The brood mother itself now reared up on her immense coils, the Basilisk closed its eyes, and when they snapped open again a a pulse of force rippled through the air as it trained its chaos-fuelled stare on the defiant little elf before it. Sirulleathe barked a word that cut through the silence like an axe and threw up a hand, he staggered backwards with the physical force of the thing’s power as a rippling red wall of energy sprung into existence and deflected the attack, hairline-fractures splintered across the shield as it reverberated like a gong struck with a hammer, before it crumbled out of existence.
Straightening, The Khainite walked on.

T’Keela picked himself up from the floor, groaning. Brushing a few chunks of charred worm from his armour, he surveyed the devastation. In a 50 metre radius there was nothing but hunks of blackened meat smouldering quietly and dissolving into goo. Taking a ginger step forwards, he trod in superheated Basilisk pup and screwed his eyes up as he felt his boot squelch into the slimy mess and an awful, charred-bile sort of smell assault his nostrils. He heard Amalii land a few steps ahead of him, the Vauvalka giving a gleeful giggle as he jumped in the piles of flash-fried worm like a four-year old jumping in puddles. Laughing and dancing, the mage skipped away and, as the rest of them regathered their wits, they followed. Before he passed the edge of the circle of wyrm-corpses and into the darkness of the rest of the cavern, T’Keela spared one last glance over his shoulder...
The rest of the youthful basilisks had given up on the hunter party and instead fixed their concentration on Sirulleathe, who seemed much more eager to come and play. By the looks of it, he was winning the game. A trail of mutilated segments of chaos-corrupted flesh lead towards the brood mother herself, who was thrashing and snapping at the flickering shadow of the Khainite, never getting a clear-enough view to transfix him with her gaze. As the warrior watched, Sirulleathe, like a spider, scrambled up the sides of a pillar, the tail swung and there was a sharp crack as the column of stone snapped like a twig, but Sirulleathe had already leapt to the next, and the next, and the next, propelling himself ever higher with each leap as he bounced between the towers. Then he was spiralling in mid air, sword and dagger glowing a dull cherry red in the darkness, before he began to descend, diving like an arrow. The short sword dug deep into the beast’s eye and the dagger sunk into its snout in a bloody, crimson shockwave that echoed outwards, ruffling T’Keela’s cloak as it swept past him. The brood mother screeched, an ear shattering sound that clawed into the brain with talons of ice. Then the thing calmed and, with a contemptuous shake of its colossal head, threw the Khainite into the air. Eyes flashed and the elf’s body was wreathed in mist that shone like burnished brass, but the sheen was rapidly eaten away by tendrils of iron-grey taint that consumed the shield in seconds. The magical energies competed for a few moments, the blessings of Khaine begrudging chaos the last few inches before they took complete control, but even the Lord of Murder’s gifts have their limits. T’Keela turned and fled. His last glimpse stamped firmly on his mind, it kept flashing infront of his eyes as he ran. Sirulleathe falling, his body frozen like a statue, his face locked into that eternal, transcendent expression of calm that he wore like a mask whenever anyone cared to look, yet somehow more soft when carved from stone than it had ever been in life. As T’Keela disappeared into darkness he cringed as a sound like granite crunching into the floor echoed behind him, followed by the tinkling of shattered glass.

The flight from the Basilisk was one long heart-stopping race through shadows, Amalii led the way, a spark of flame guiding the others onwards like a torch. From behind them came the slick rustling of scales scraping along stone, sometimes closer, sometimes further, but nobody cared to look to see just how close. Amalii darted to the left, jerked to the right, then disappeared. Malthang came skidding to a halt a hand-span from running full-tilt into a solid wall, but his sharp eyes picked out the looming mouth of a side-tunnel, and swiftly he dived inwards. Sometime later they stopped as the tunnel forked, and the remains of the party gathered. They were short three of the accompanying shades, and a Khainite. Malthang did a quick count up, and came up with one head more than there should have been…
His eyes alighted on a strange face, the elf that had flown past them before had been gathered up in their headlong flight and somehow stayed with them in the ensuing scramble for safety. Mouths opened in a dozen questions when the tunnel exploded into noise, dust shrouded the dark tunnel and chunks of stone and blood flew everywhere as a section of the wall caved in. A large elvish form went down screaming as something huge launched itself through and landed in an explosion of blood and viscera. The sound of cracking bones and gargling, choked gasps of agony vanished, replaced by the stomach turning sound of flesh being torn into ragged lumps. As the dust settled, the nauglir reared its head, and roared.

Right then, thought you were safe by the end of that one did you? Tough luck :p
Phew, it took me a while to write this one, you’re in a narrow tunnel, a cold one has just charged through and crushed someone, you have no idea who. There’s dust everywhere, its noisy and confusing, and there’s a tonne of angry lizard bellowing and snapping at everyone. What are your actions?

Unfortunately for you Helkor the basilisk had enough power in its gaze to transfix you even through a reflection, it’s just extremely diluted and therefore is less effective and takes longer. Since two of you were running and the other trying to fight, I gave you a toughness test to see if you could resist the Basilisk’s stare reflected off the shield long enough for Sirulleathe to aid you, which you passed, and then since all three of you were running and the basilisk was gaining fast I decided that an NPC would have to stay behind to give you a chance to escape. Poor old Sirulleathe.

Deadline is Friday the 9th of March

_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Mon Feb 27, 2012 9:48 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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Helkor, still shaken from his narrow brush with death, felt his heart leap into his throat when the Nauglir attacked and tore some unfortunate apart.

Blood sprayed across his face and Helkor wiped te hot sticky liquid from his face. He saw red for a moment, it was hard to say where everything had gone wrong, from Ghrond to the Basilisk to this bloody Nauglir.

He let out a shout of fury and charged the Nauglir. "Die, rat bastard!" He screamed.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Mon Mar 05, 2012 7:49 pm
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Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
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The welter of blood flew viciously from the previously complete body of the druchii, which one it was the shade neither knew nor cared. Time seemed to slow as the nauglir reared up and roared, Helkor then deciding to match its display and charge the fearsome creature. Malthang was starting to get the suspicion that the warrior might have cracked a little in the head having tried to first charge a giant chaos beast and now a lethal beast of war. Either way, the shade had no intention of dying as the unfortunate on the floor had and used the general moment of panic to intersperse as many bodies between himself and the rampaging beast as possible. If need be he had his poisons but perhaps a different solution could be reached. Or maybe the carnivorous monster would have had enough after dining on his erstwhile, and slightly deranged, companion.

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Mon Mar 12, 2012 2:57 am
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Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
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T'Keela muttered a contemptuous fool, at the gore soaked sack of flesh that was once a "proud", albeit misbegotten & inbred Autarii. "I would much rather fight this lizard than that Khaine damned chaos filth," roared the elf, he drew his pistol & loaded it, drawing his sword in his right hand, he knew in its current condition it would not easily or without difficulty pierce the thick, scaled flesh of the great naugliir.

Although it never occurred to him the roar of blackpowder weapon might be as likely to attract the attention of anything nearby as the fresh bolo that had been so recently, indescrimantely spilled. Although, the infamous stupidity of the cold one's T'keela of the necessity of making his shot count & so he aimed for the skull, hopefully the alchemical marvel of the weapon would make a lasting impression in the beasts puny, only partially formed brain.

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Mon Mar 12, 2012 6:38 am
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Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
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Helkor charged through the blood and haze of dust at the shadowy silhouette of the armoured nauglir. Bodies scrambled in all directions but one, united in the general consensus that everyone should get as far from the Cold One as possible, and so the sea of flesh before the warrior parted as he strode onwards to meet the beast head-on. Shades swiftly took up position after their initial panic and unlimbered their deadly crossbows, a few bolts came whizzing through the darkness and bounced off the indistinct shape of the war beast in brilliant showers of white-hot sparks and the distinctive sound of metal quarrel meeting metal armour and losing.
Then there was a crack like the hammer of a god striking an anvil and a roar of flame and black smoke from behind as T’Keela fired his pistol, the noise in the enclosed space was deafening, but was instantly replaced by an ear-shattering roar of pain from the nauglir as the bullet punched through plate armour and burrowed into flesh. The enraged beast heaved its head from side to side but in the darkness it was impossible to see where it had been hit. Making a snap decision, Helkor dived forwards to roll under the battering ram that was the nauglir’s head, bringing his bastard sword around in a powerful cut aimed at the cold one’s hopefully vulnerable throat. The shimmering arc of the blade glanced off the edge of a sheet of neck armour that had been twisted out of position, and then slid through the gap to bite deep into the beast’s neck. Powering to his feet as he finished the roll, Helkor carved his sword around the throat of the nauglir, eliciting a spray of thick black blood and another guttural growl from the dragon-kin. The cold-one shuddered, and then convulsed. Eyes widening, Helkor jumped aside as the blocky head full of dagger-like fangs swung towards him, but not quick enough. He screamed as the jaw snapped shut on his arm and the monster’s head smashed him from his feet. He was flying through darkness. An explosion of pain like someone had dropped an arsenal of lit fireworks into his head erupted as he collided with the cavern wall, the world went white and dimly he heard screaming, his brain not comprehending that it was his own. Finally, he slid down the wall to lie in a crumpled heap at the base, and his consciousness drifted away under the waves of an inky black sea.

Malthang watched as the Cold one bucked and heaved, its body convulsing as its slow mind began to comprehend that it was dying. Foolhardy though the warrior’s charge had been, somehow it had worked.
From behind, Malthang’s ears picked up the faintest sound, a breath out of place. His instincts screamed danger and he threw himself forwards, feeling the wind ruffle his hair in this lifeless tunnel as he dived to the ground and rolled, coming to his feet in a crouch to face the way he had come, crossbow already in hand. Two bodies softly collapsed to the floor, one headless, the other had a red stain swiftly spreading out from the pristine cut in the cloth directly over her heart, which Malthang knew would be matched perfectly by an identical cut on the woman’s back from where the sword had thrust in and through. Another shade’s jaw worked silently as an armoured form languidly turned on his heel, pulling free a slender, obsidian-black blade from where it had neatly bisected it’s victim’s spinal column as the elf stepped out from behind the corpse. The shade fell to his knees, mouth hanging open like a simpleton, before folding forwards to lay in a swiftly-spreading pool of his own blood and stomach juices. The lithe figure flourished the sword that had been meant to remove Malthang’s own head from his body; the long, slightly curved length of silver-steel ending in a golden hilt fashioned to look like the neck and head of a dragon. The elf wore a noble’s battle dress, ornate armour adorned with barbs and flesh hooks covered him from head to toe in smoothly overlapping plates the colour of fresh blood. A tall warrior’s helm protected his face, cold eyes gleaming from behind narrow eyeslits protected by a thin mesh of flexible steel. The noble took one step forwards, and grunted as a crossbow bolt struck a resounding blow off his chest guard, the burnished steel turning aside the quarrel with a spine chilling shriek.
“Take him down,” hissed the bloodshade venomously. And then the noble was dancing forwards, steel wasps buzzed out of the gloom to sting their target, glancing aside from the seemingly impenetrable armour.

Malthang cursed as the warrior bore down on him through a series of evasive twirls and graceful side-steps, twin swords poised to finish what they had begun.

Ok, so maybe I might have kinda slightly maybe forgotten about an exam that was this Thursday so I had to do some quick revision, the good news is I passed the exam, the bad news is it delayed the mod post until today, but oh well, we’re here now! So, another enemy! It’s just one thing after another isn’t it? I had intended for the noble’s mount to take your attention whilst the noble ambushed you and you were caught on two fronts, but once again a foolhardy charge and some fortunate dice rolls have come to your aid, T’Keela partially missed with his pistol shot and hit the cold one’s neck instead, damaging the armour there and wounding the beast, Helkor then took and passed an intelligence test to seize the opportunity and strike at the beast’s throat, and then rolled a 6 and a 5 to hit and wound, which with the strength of the bastard sword and the strength of Helkor added onto the damage from T’Keela’s pistol, I had to deem a fatal wound, and the nauglir also failed its armour save which had been weakened by T’Keela’s shot, leaving me little other choice than to have the cold one die far earlier than I’d hoped, you got away with it this round… :twisted:

However Helkor did fail a dexterity test and so the cold one’s attack before it perished did connect, smashing your arm and knocking you unconscious, so you will not be capable of making any actions this week, though you can do the inner monologue stream of consciousness thing T’Keela did whilst he was knocked out if you like, we do not know the full extent of Helkor’s injuries yet. And then once again Malthang survives an ambush via the passing of an intelligence test to add the lack of noble on his mount and the faint sound behind him together and decide it was a good time to duck, foiled again!
So, the situation: T’Keela and Malthang are facing off against the noble, Helkor is unconscious, Sirulleathe is gone, Amalii and Selkoreth are somewhere, possibly dead from the Cold one’s rampage, in all the confusion you do not know. At least six of your allied shades are dead, possibly more, though the bloodshade and at least a couple of others are alive and kicking. So, what are you going to do against this fearsome noble that is advancing upon you? Deadline is 23rd March.


_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Fri Mar 16, 2012 6:52 pm
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
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Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
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OOC: Bloody Nauglirs :( :lol:

IC:

Helkor felt as though he were drifting on the waves of an endless sea and he tried to open his eyes. Of all the Nauglir's in Naggaroth I met a smart one, he thought.


He groaned as the pain hit him, there wasn't one part of his battered body that didn't hurt. Then his mind was taken off the pain when he sensed. . . the presence of something or someone in the darkness, no, more than one.

Oddly enough, he wasn't alarmed, in fact he was grateful for company.

"I guess I died bravely, eh?" He laughed and then groaned as pain radiated from his chest like cracks expanding through a sheet of ice.

"Dead? Oh no, elfling you are not dead, though I imagine you wish you were."

Helkor frowned, the presence was standing, or kneeling at his side and it seemed very very familiar. He licked his bloody lips.

"Who the- If you don't mind my asking, who are you?" For some reason he felt he'd best be polite.

He felt a cool hand stroke his face and he knew before she answered. "I am death, elf-child."

She brushed back his coarse hair and wiped blood from his face. He licked his lips and tried to summon up enough courage to say something pithy, but for once his common sense won out.

"So, I'm going to die?"

"Yes, but not today."

Helkor wasn't sure if that was reassuring or frightning. "But-"

"Oh, I'm here because I was certain your time was up, I was wrong. . . this time."

Helkor heard a slight rustling as she shrugged. "That and when I saw you, I found you intriuging, like most living creatures."

Helkor wasn't sure what to say. So he remained silent.

She continued. "I see the image you've created to fool others and your own mind, I've seen it before with other elves whose souls I've taken, like you that image wasn't enough to hide the despair you won't recognize or how in spite of everything you still try to have hope.

"Or how you fear me more than anything. Why? I bear you no ill will, elf-child."

"You know the answer, you know everything about me." He rasped.

"Perhaps, but I would like to hear it from you."

"Because," he whispered bitterly, "I'm afraid that it won't have had any meaning or that if it does, I'll be judged and found wanting for how I've lived."


"Ah, and you want to know that there was some meaning, some design, a good design, behind all the misery you've seen."

He nodded.

"I can't help you, I only take souls, I have no knowledge of what lays beyond. For what it's worth I wish you well."

She stood and he reached out to grasp the hem of her robe. "Wait. . . please."

"Yes?"

"Would you help me?"

". . . I have been asked to let them return, or to bring a loved one back, I have been asked to stay my hand, but rarely have I been asked for help. And what will you give me in return, elf-child?"

He chuckled bitterly. "Nothing for free, eh?"

"I was merely curious."

"There's nothing I can give you."

"No, I suppose not, but you can ask. Who knows? I may be able to help."


"My family, Da has a hard enough time as it is and while my pension wasn't that much, added to his it helped buy food, but now I'm a wanted man and winter's coming."


". . . I will do what I can, if there's anything I can do."

"Thank you, Mistress. . .?"

"I have no need of names. Farewell, Helkor Makolus."

And then Helkor was alone in the dark.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Sat Mar 17, 2012 12:16 pm
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Executioner

Joined: Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:48 pm
Posts: 156
Post 
Malthang recovered from his life-saving roll and aimed his crossbow at the advancing noble, the twin blades in his hands weaving a gleaming dance of silvered steel before him. The weight of a fresh magazine of bolts sat atop his repeater crossbow and the range was short and even then the shade wasn't overly sure of his chances of success against the highborn that bore down upon him. He snarled a curse to all the gods he could think of and depressed the trigger, spitting bolts towards the armoured figure. Hopefully the bolts would kill the druchii outright, at least distract the noble long enough for T'Keela to do some damage.

OOC: Sorry for the epically late post, the last few weeks have been unimaginably busy!

_________________
Only by the blade can weakness be purged.


Tue Apr 10, 2012 12:45 pm
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Noble
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Joined: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:37 am
Posts: 400
Location: Bris-VEGAS, Australia
Post 
TT'Keela offered a snide smirk and contemptuous snort as the great, metal-sheathed naugliir came crashing down to the ground, its lifeblood leaking out through the great rents and torn armour plates. Even before the metallic scent of fresh blood had hit the dry, stale air of the deep tunnels, the sounds of combat seemed to be raging again, the sound of crossbow strings loosing barbed bolts unerringly at their target, a target that seemed unhindered or harmed by the rain of razored death. Loading the last of his bullets and filing the fire mechanism with the acrid blackpower, he took aim at what he hoped was their attacker and prepared to fire!

_________________
T'Keela Darkspine
Group 30
Stats: WS4 S3 T4 D4 I4
Equip: Sword, Light Armour, blackpowder pistol, 4 bullets, 2GP.
Skills:


Sat Apr 21, 2012 2:42 am
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Scourge
Scourge
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Joined: Mon Nov 01, 2010 9:05 am
Posts: 656
Location: A torture dungeon in Suffolk
Post 
Death whispered out of the darkness as the shades loosed a volley of barbs at the noble. The whispers rose into muffled screams and shrieks as metal met unyielding metal in showers of sparks, before being drowned out by the roaring fury of hot lead cracking forth in an explosion of smog and dirty flames. The noble flickered in and out of view, dancing through the storm in short, elegant sidesteps. Each lightning flash of steel bolt glancing aside from crimson lacquered plates painted his cold figure in stark relief, before he vanished behind layers of smoke and shadow again. Here and there could be heard a duller sound, like a knife thudding into a pillow, as some of the deadly missiles found gaps in the armour and struck the leather Kheitan beneath. Once, a flying razor managed to slip between the neck and shoulder guards to carve through the cured hide beneath and into unresisting skin, drawing a splash of blood and a hissed curse of pain, but in an instant the figure was gone again.

Malthang brought his crossbow to bear, tracing his target’s path, trying to follow the noble’s movements through the brief flashes of light and the sound of steel-shod feet gliding across stone as if they were in a tap dancer’s shoes rather than full plate armour. Releasing a breath, he took aim at head-height, which, if actually based on the position of the target’s head, could be anywhere from three foot high to six with the way the elf constantly ducked and wove, and hoped. The stock of the crossbow meandered like a snake-charmer’s flute before snapping steady and jerking twice with the soft sigh of a bowstring releasing its tension. The shade’s keen eyes marked the bolts’ path, he had lead his target perfectly, predicted his movements perfectly, timed the shot perfectly. The noble’s head twisted to the side, a muffled scream echoing in the small space. Malthang let out a sigh of relief. One had struck the right eyeslit and the second had caught the hollow of the cheek guard, if it didn’t stop him dead, then the noble was likely to flee, or at least be heavily handicapped.

The armoured figure didn’t pause, didn’t miss a beat, he followed the twist of his head with the rest of his body and rolled neatly to the side. As he came back to his feet a shard of metal clattered to the ground, and gauntleted fingers rose to brush against a stud of metal protruding from his cheek like an ugly wart, then he was gone again.
Malthang released a colourful array of vocabulary.
“Just for once, can’t we have someone that dies easily?”

T’Keela watched Malthang shoot to little more effect than the rest of the shades.
What they need is a little more firepower sneered the warrior to himself, raising his pistol and pointing.
I may not be a master marksman, but I can read swordsmen, and this is a small area.
Everyone else had taken their potshots, now it was his turn. T’Keela’s eyes narrowed as the noble rolled to the side in anticipation of half a dozen bolts that passed through the space he had occupied a moment before in what could have been a lethal volley. Without hesitation, T’Keela pulled the trigger.
The noble’s head whipped round at the roar of the black powder igniting, the momentary distraction costing him dearly. He was already springing forwards again when the bullet tore into his side, punching through steel, chain and leather with contemptuous ease. The noble bellowed in pain and anger while a slow, predatory grin spread across T’Keela’s face. This one would be an interesting challenge, stubborn yet elegant, strong yet subtle. The wound was not fatal, not yet. An hour or two of bleeding and seepage from the guts the bullet had punctured in the elf’s side may be enough to cause an agonising death if it was not seen to, the noble likely wouldn’t ever make it out of the underway with such an injury gnawing at his strength. But for now, all it had apparently done was make him angry.

The noble lunged forwards again, finally in melee range. Malthang backpedalled, hurriedly drawing his notched sword and raising it to ward off the noble’s lightning fast jabs. The silver blade swept around in a broad slash that Malthang met with a double-handed parry, knuckles white on the grip of his sword. With horrifying clarity he saw the blades connect, and the silver edge bite a notch out of his own dull grey blade. Malthang’s gaze snapped back to the sword in the noble’s other hand that was so dark it could have been cut from an overcast sky at midnight, it arced up and around, and the shade gritted his teeth, knowing that with his one sword already engaged he was defenceless. The noble reversed his grip on the obsidian blade and stabbed behind himself, the edge neatly slipping between the ribs of a shade that had rushed to Malthang’s rescue, his sword held high above his head and his hurried footsteps much too loud to take the noble by surprise. The shade’s headlong rush carried him further onto the blade, it glided through his flesh slick as a snake and poked out the other side. Blood poured in a cascade from his mouth and the neat puncture in his chest, the light leaving his eyes as he slumped. The noble turned, pulling both his blades free. They lashed out in a broad arc as he completed a full turn on the spot, Malthang barely leaping back in time to avoid the tip of the silver blade nicking his chin. Without pause the noble charged forwards again, chopping overhand with the dragon-hilted sword, the fang of obsidian held back at his waist ready to thrust forwards. Ravensbane brought his own short-sword up, praying for salvation even as he saw the black fang arc underhand at his throat, a faint sheen of liquid on the honed edge catching his eye in the way that the tiniest details become apparent to those staring death in the face. The dragon-blade struck his with a shriek, the silver steel chancing to strike one of the notches Senthask had beaten into the sword when Malthang had fought in the escape from Ghrond. The sword resisted for a moment...
Then snapped, less than a foot above the hilt. The noble’s own silver edge carried on, biting into Malthang’s shoulder. Ravensbane screamed as he twisted to the side, his left arm going numb from the shoulder down and his hand dropping the now-useless sword, desperately he tried to squirm away from the obsidian blade stabbing at his throat. Midnight skies slipped past his face, missing by millimetres and instead cutting a gash in the shade’s forearm. As Malthang collapsed to the floor the noble raised a blade, ready to sweep off the shade’s head, when fire came roaring out of the darkness.

The warrior snarled as his chest was battered by a dozen flaming missiles each the size of a fist, he was thrown backwards by the force of the magic, feet skidding across stone as he fought to maintain his balance. Metal steamed and dripped like water from craters in the noble’s armour, running off in golden red rivulets. Somewhere in the darkness, Amalii giggled. The noble didn’t stop, didn’t give anyone a chance to start shooting again, but hurled himself at his fallen prey, twin swords lancing out in a deathblow.

Steel clashed and the noble crunched to a halt, his blades intertwined around an elegantly curved shortsword. He snarled a wordless challenge at the elf standing over Malthang.
“Come dance with me for a while,” smiled the bloodshade.

Right, first things first, sorry guys, everything kind of went to pot over easter, I lost the thread of things and unfortunately the RP was pretty low on my list of priorities of things to fix. I have my next round of exams starting on the 16th of May, so I’m going to give a deadline of Friday 4th of May and then I’ll set a long deadline over the two to three weeks of my exams so I can get back into posting after they are finished. So, once again an unbelievable round of dice rolls, Malthang scored two 6s for his shots but one of them was stopped by armour, the other wounded. T’Keela likewise scored a decent hit and wound, the only thing that let you down was an intelligence test for Malthang to run away rather than stand and engage the noble running at him after the shots had been fired, unfortunately a 1 lead me to decide that Malthang had a momentary lapse of reason resulting in a somewhat suicidal stand to face the enemy.

Malthang, you’re sword was already damaged and on the second clash of blades it broke, your sword is now, funnily enough, broken. Your left shoulder has been deeply cut and it is bleeding quite heavily and you have received a light gash from the obsidian blade as well on your right forearm.

T’Keela by your count how many bullets do you have left? You started with 4, I think you’ve used 3 but I’m not sure, will you engage the enemy sword-to-sword and assist the bloodshade or stand back and wait? Bear in mind that firing at the noble is now very likely to hit the bloodshade by accident.

Another shade has died which means at least 7 shades are dead, Amalii is still alive apparently, there is still no sign of Selkeroth. On the plus side, Helkor you have regained consciousness, you are groggy and weak, what will you try and do?

So then, the noble is still up for a fight, but he is now quite heavily wounded, what are your actions? Deadline as I said is Friday 4th of May


_________________
Veni, Vidi, Voro!!!

All things perish, this is the law of existence, accept your suffering and your mortality, only by using this truth, can you transcend it.


Mon Apr 23, 2012 10:36 pm
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Executioner

Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:00 pm
Posts: 152
Location: Naggarond, Dancing with Morathi.
Post 
Helkor was fighting for his life, the wind howled and threw up curtains of stinging sleet, but the bestial howls of the daemons rose above it making his ears bleed, his breath came in short painful gasps and his arm felt like a piece of frozen meat, the trumpets sounded again, the high grating sound carrying over the roar of battle and his formation advanced again.

He glanced up in time to see something with barbed wings and a mouth like an overgrown lamprey leap into the air and fall straight for his position, he let out a howl of desperate rage and tried to bring his spear up, but his leaden arm was slow, so slow-

There was a deafening roar and a flash of light followed by the acrid stench of gunpowder. Through the dull ringing in his ears Helkor could hear the familiar sound of steel-on-steel and the screams of the dying as though they came from far away.

In the brief flash from T'Keela's pistol Helkor saw blood pouring from the enemy noble's side, he also saw how quickly the noble moved and so as he wobbled to his feet sword in hand, Helkor removed his boots and began creeping up on the noble in his sock feet, his body was sluggish and every movement hurt, but he kept coming. Because this was all he knew, he saw Malthang collapse as the noble bested him and then the magical missiles that battered him back and prevented from ending Malthang's life. Helkor grinned slightly and felt glad to have the strange little mage along.

Helkor's heart leaped into his throat as the noble lunged forward again and then Bloodshade arrived in time to save Malthang's life and for some reason Helkor was relieved as the noble exchanged words with the Bloodshade, Helkor readied his blade, which felt heavier then he remembered, gathered his strength and lunged striking for the hole that T'Keela's pistol had torn in the noble's armour.

Just get close enough he can't bring his arm around to strike and keep pushing and twisting. He thought grimly.

OOC:

Helkor will strike for the hole in the noble's armour in hopes that he can pin the Noble's right arm and if he can stab the noble, he'll start pushing the noble across the cave while twisting the blade the whole way.

_________________
Role-Playing Group 30
Helkor Makolus, Warrior.
WS 4, S4, T4, D3, I3. Gear: Cloak, Longsword, Light Armour, Shield, 4GC, Bastard Sword


Tue Apr 24, 2012 6:28 pm
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