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 The First Assault! {Justicars + Invite Only} 
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Post The First Assault! {Justicars + Invite Only}
OOC Note - If you are NOT a current member of Justicars, PLEASE ask me before posting in this thread. Those who post anyway will be noted to the Moderator of the Forum for deletion. Thank you *winks*~

Slowly, the sun rose little by little higher over the eastward mountains Veria and Soria, casting its rudy golden light over the tips of Carnif, Arcanus, and Areias, turned the snow fields high above a rosy pink color to contrast with the deep pinks and purples of the clouds overhead to the west. Slowly, the golden rays pierced into the heart of the fogs that held sway in the valley, Koriasai, carressing the high branches of the fir trees like a lover before slipping ever so slowly downwards. The fogs on the higher flanks of the five mountains burned away, and the more vibrant light of early morning fell upon the dense foliage and trees, and the ground below the treeline.

Collumns of smoke began to thicken and rise from the drear grounds at the heart of Koriasai, beneath the solemn hundered orm ore feet cliffs that ringed the entire place in. Soon smoke rose from the two villages that were nestled in the once putrified lands, and now healing fields, as well as the gate posts at both ends of the Dread Pass...and from the Palace of Koriasai itself. The sounds of bague laughter, soem childerens, some that of the tenants of the fields and townships, drifted serenly from that place.

The wheels rattled noisily as they rolled over the rough, uneven road, winding down through one valley and rising out to greet yet another. The sounds of thousands of footfalls falling in time with one another echoed loudly into the distant hills as the silent procession moved on, metal clanging, wood knocking...

Slowly, the minds eye wanders from the much higher elevations of Koriasai, once the Valley of Dread, and passes through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the plains that stretch to the south. Nestled safely in the deep shadows of early morning, Civitas Aeternus, the Eternal City, slowly rouses itself to the tasks the day has planned ahead of them. Cooking fires, heating fires....the smokes rise from the mostly rebuilt ruins of the old city, merely called Gate by the dark master of the time. Slowly, the many interlocked roads of the city began to pick up in traffic, carts and horses slowly pulling or lugging their loads through the busier of the cities streets.

The cries of men wearing nothing but the black uniforms, bearing shields with the image of a solemn tower and a ring of gold around it. File upon file of men bearing this mark only, without banner nor priest of any god or goddess among them, strode proudly down the road. It widened as it approached the top of a hillock, and the feel of eagerness in the air rose exponentially. And once they had crested the hill, their multitude fanned out. The clarion calls of war began to sound, and up and down the fresh lines, men took battle formation. Silence reigned heavily in the air...

Cries came from the gaurd towers along the wall around the city...fingers were pointed. Shouts of warning, which quickly changed to shouts of terror, echoed through the streets, as suddenly the peaceful life of the city in its morningly activities dissolved into anarchy at the approach of an enemy.

The shrill call of the enemies' horns rang loud and clear in the dawn air, and their cheer rose much higher than could be drowned out by any amount of prayer.

The first arrows thudded to the ground and against the walls of the city...

The siege was on.


[center]~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~[/center]

THere came a faint, undeniably polite knocking upon the solid wood door to her chambers, if temporary they were. Only a very dim light came through the high ceiling of clouds, and only so much of that faint light managed to pass through the sheets of rain that fell from high up. Far off, in the distance, thunder rumbled faintly, and the occasional lance of lightning flicked down with all the rain.

She lay in bed...if not asleep, then merely resting her body. She may not be alive, she reminded herself, but it gave comfort to ordinary people for her to seem alive enough. Sleeping was one of those things mortal beings never got away without for long.

"Milady!"

There came another series of polite knocks, and finally, she rose on the soft down mattress, and shook her hair free of its tangles.

"Come."

The door in the entry hall creaked open, and then creaked shut again, fottsteps echoing as a figure bathed in the shadows of early morning came through the portal of her bedchamber. It paced over to the nearest torch, and mumbled to itself even as the flames sprang to life under his touch. Without hesitation, the other dead torches flared into life out of sheer embarressment for not doing it earlier, and now the room was bathed in a rudy glow.

The man turned around, and bowed low before her, his ashy colored hair spilling over his shoulders as he did so. He stood upright once more quickly, and stared at her with such startling green eyes as she had never before seen, and smiled softly to veil his unsettlement at being in her presence.

"Milady, I trust we met your expectations yestereve?"

She smiled softly, and nodded vaguely.

"If you mean the readiness of this fortress for attack, then yes. Especially given your location in relation to the heathen force to the south. I will be forced to commend the work that has come along in such a short period of time. I believe the pass through the Mountains of Mist are secured on our end now....none could get through without passing this place. Our southern border...finally secure."

She slid to the edge of her bed, and placed her feet upon the icy stone floor. Somehow, the stone grew even colder under her touch as she found her boots and slid them on. The robes she wore during the day still covered her frame at night, and therefore, there was little need to worry of getting dressed.

She stood up slowly, and stretched, the rigor mortis in her limbs causing them to creak as she made them flexable once more, and then she strode across the room to where the man stood.

"I am very pleased we have managed to make this old fortification of Armengar so accomodating to the task you have set it as. Well then, now that my worries are dismissed, shall we leave and take part of the breaking of our mens fast?"

She smiled, and nodded, though the smile was of ice. Together, with appropriate distance between them, they left the room.

It had been mentioned that Fate was a crotchety old man, and his entire purpose was to ruin peoples days. Old man Fate sauntered in at right about the right moment, I think you'll agree.

A messenger came rushing up the steps some distance ahead of them, sweat glistening on his face.

"Milady! Milady! Milady Archchancellor!!"

The both of them stopped, and stared at the youth, who carried a slim looking scroll that had obviously seen better days, and perhaps places as well. Blood stains were all over the youths hands, she noticed as he handed her the note.

She untied the knot, and as she did, the young man collapsed, and only then did the arrow protruding from his back become apparent. Slightly miffed, she read the note quickly, and let it fall from her hands as quickly...

"Commander....rally what men you can. We may well have to abandon this fortress for a week or so...it appears that our capitol is in jeopordy...gather our troops fast!"

She turned to return to her chambers quickly, and left the green eyed man staring for a second, before his senses took over. He ran down the stairs with all the speed he could gather.

Something was happening...

_________________
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...


Thu Nov 28, 2002 9:09 pm
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The old mage sits in his chamber, calmly staring at the smouldering embers of the night's fire. Red and orange and gray and black swirl about in a dance of eternity that ends when the sun comes over the hills. Still a few minutes yet before that accursed moment. Then the whole of Quonotae would be up and running about with the business of both peasant and church. The church. Just one organization with a reason to hate the old mage. The problem is, it's a damn big organization.

As Ruune's thoughts drifted with the smoke and soot of the dying fire, his senses turned to the sound of a swift horse stomping its way up the dirt road, between the two Oak Trees marking the boundaries to Kinemil, the Capital City. The rider stops suddenly, yells in elven at the guards, then continues towards the inner city. Ruune turns away from his dying fire and watches the rider as he approaches the old rustic stone building. He stops and shouts up at the building, almost looking Ruune in the eyes. Ruune stands and steps to the window, animated shadows from the rising sun.


Milord! Milord! Word from the Southern Country! The Capitol! The Capitol! Lady Seska and ...

The mage stands as tall as he can and sticks his head out into the crisp morning air. The distorted brightness from the morning fog of the Northern Country clouded his senses, but still he managed a yell to the fool of a messenger.

My Child, should you carry my message, then please. Come forth and give it to me, and me alone. No need to awaken the entire town.

No sooner had he finished saying it did Ruune realize how wrong he might have been as he heard the familiar sound of the inner gates slamming shut, the moat bridge lifting upward. He watches the boy as he made his approach to the entrance of Ruune's estate. The boy, a messenger of Ruune's, sent to Seska not a month ago, is red in the face, chilled from the obviously fast ride, partly also due to the scolding he received only a moment before.

Quickly, Ruune throws his war cloak over his shoulders, clipping the purple fabric with the golden feather that represents his Nephew's religious beliefs. The old mage silently opens the latch to his chamber, nodding to his guards. He touches one on the shoulder, then whispers a command into his ear. As the guard runs off, Ruune steps across the hall and opens the latch silently, as if it were an every day event. In reality, since the troubles started, it had become just that, a daily event.

Ruune suddenly leaves his feet and feels a point somewhere in his back. He nods to himself before he speaks.


Good, you're up. Put me down and prepare the war room at once. It's apparent that Seska may be in trouble. As her closest neighbor, we are obliged to help.

Mikka let his master to the ground before his instructions were complete. He watches as Ruune nearly sprints out of the chamber, stops at the guard, nods a quick command, then sprints one direction. Mikka, in near shock, watches until the guard takes a step towards him. Mikka growls low, then fetches his essentials.

Ruune hops down the stairs as quickly as he can, silently. His nephew waits for him in the war room with the unexpected messenger. Mikka soon clamors down the stairs, his long sword attached to his armor.


Now then. What news do you bring?

Yes, Milord. Lady Seska ... Seige on Civitas Aeteruns. Heathens ... More than a thousand, Milords! Lady Seska stands no chance without help!

Then Lady Seska needs our assistance. Mikka. Gather your fastest riders. We leave in one hour. We must reach Civitas Aeteruns by sunset tomorrow.

Master Sharpedge, Gather your infantry. Have them meet us there. Leave half of your men here to guard, no more. Quonotae has ample defence without Kinemil's minute infantry.

My lad, can you handle a sword?


Yes, Milord.

Then go to the armory. Get a sword and shield and meet at the Great Altar at the West Gate. We ride in one hour. Get a fresh horse, yours must be tired.


Mon Dec 02, 2002 10:17 pm
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The crash of thunder as it resounded through the plains and up into the mountains shook her to her bones. Before her...byond the great, thick walls of the city...were multitudes of men and...things, gathered in an assault against the keep of Civitas Aeternus. This was not, as she thought to herself not for the first time, was not her day.

Pearl Roulve stretched her tired aching arms, and twirled about away from the window, leaping off of the chair she had been standing on in order to see better out of the window. Her short build was a constant curse, among with the many other curses she suffered, but by far the worst. It was the one, for instance, that most often led to trouble.

It had been a long time since she had been left in charge of the fortress in the Aerie, much less command anywhere...Seska was too busy to do much with her, and thus, she often sat about in the fields wondering what they hell happened. And now, she was given control of this place once more....and some assholes decide to attack.

There was a harsh sound of rain upon the roof...more arrows loosed by their archers, no doubt. The agonized screams of more fallen echoed across the town, and especially through the window she had just been at -for it overlooked the wall itself. There was a brief respite, and then the pounding at the gate....their battering ram...and the thunk of stones landing against the walls continued. Occasionally, the sound of one of their sorcerors' screams as their attempts to simply blow a hole in the wall failed, due mainly to the fact that Seska's sorcerors were holding positions directly inside the wall and maintaining a spell of protection.

Pearl wandered down the hall, and then down the stairs that led from the uppermost halls and rooms in the tower. From somewhere ahead, the muffled conversations of the scribes and those who lead the different platoons and squads of men as they bickered with themselves.

She entered the room, and all of a sudden, became the center of a growing ring of silence. People were bowing their heads in a certain manner of respect. At first, no one spoke, but she broke the silence as quickly as she could get her bearings...

"Er....what is the status of the walls, at the moment? And of our forces?"

From somewhere at the back of a room, a group of military looking men murmured to one another. One of them finally stepped forward, though his head was slightly...lower than one would hope...


"Milady....they have not breached nor damaged the walls...yet. We have lost only some archers along the wall itself....and we have a full five companies within the walls of the city itself...thats five hundered men, with due respect. We have counted two thousand eight hundered men out there....well, most of them were men. If they breach these walls, we're finished."

Pearl looked for the scribes, and found them lounging against the furthest wall, sharing a smoke between themselves...

"Scribes? Has any word arrived from Seska? Or from our allies?"

"Nay, milady. Naught has been heard of our runners....I fear tje enmem,y may have them, or killed them."

The words came from the senior scribe master...and the look of grim desperation was set upon his features. Pearl did not stay any longer, and merely left, a silent prayer that help would arrive soon uttered under her breath...


Thu Dec 05, 2002 8:49 pm
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The old swordsman charges onward with his allies. The long night now behind them, they are only a short distance from Civitas Aeternus. Suprisingly, the late night's ride took less of a toll on him than he expected. Ruune had placed a spell on the party to keep them energized through the ride. At the time, Mikka was skeptical of the plan, but in reflection, he is pleased to feel rested after a difficult ride.

Lord Hakko, I estimate we are quite close to Civitas Aeternus. We have been away from Quonotae's reaches for an estimated ten hours, and we should not be far off once the morning awakens.

With Mikka's announcement, morning breaks from behind the party, and moments later shines brightly on the walls of the great Capitol. Civitas Aeternus, from the Eastern gates, looks well defended. Archers on all walls, and a guaranteed many sorcerers and sorceresses behind the walls, the city would likely withstand the assault from the North. With the arrival of a small party, the odds would surely better themselves. Mikka reaches to his sword's hilt, locking a tight grip onto his weapon. Moments away from the familiarities of combat, he reviews his training with an open mind.

Orders, Sir?

The slightest hesitation grasps Ruune before he gives his command.

Let's take them apart.

Mikka hauls his sword out of the sheath, then angles it slightly down and to the side. The collective force against the Eastern wall throws stones sporadically, shouting and hooting, showing very little discipline or training. Mikka spurs his horse and raises his sword, slicing downwards into the first of many kills on the day. The body jerks violently as the head rolls behind it. For a moment, the body becomes a geyser of blood, then it crashes to the ground. Mikka hardly notices; he is far too busy cutting through the poorly organized attack on the walls.

An arrow pierces his horse in the throat, pitching him twenty feet off, leaving the taste of dirt in his pallette. He rises quickly as a half dozen men encircle him. He brings his left fist to his chest, still clutching his sword. A quick snap of the wrist brings it to high guard in front of him. Before he has the chance to strike any of his targets, a volley of arrows falls upon them, taking out three of the men. He notes a group of arrows which fall to the ground on their sides, undammaged, a certainly unnatural state for a fired arrow.

While Mikka clashes his sword against his oponents pike, he grabs a hold of the man's collar and throws him to the dirt beneath him. A quick backswing halves an incoming pike, leaving the business end by his attacker's feet. A reverse swing separates the second attacker's head from body. Yet another attacker moves to strike him, succeeding with a blow to the back. Mikka curses as he bends in pain, then ducks to avoid the second swing. While removing a flying knife from his sash, he rolls to his left, unleashes the dart, then grabs the broken pike from the injured body. He shoves it deep into the weakling's spine, then sprints for the entryway. Blocked by another group of attackers, two of his own men, still with horses, cut through the group. One of the two riders drops towards Mikka, an arrow through his face. Mikka hurriedly rushes to the still moving horse, mounts the saddle, then yanks the reins in the direction of a small gate sliding open. A scattering number of attackers attempt to rush the gate, foiled by an overly accurate volley of arrows from Ruune's riding forces, all of which were making for the gate now.

Mikka nods, then looks up the wall, glaring towards the archers who took the life of one of his men. At least now, he could rest for a few hours before more combat. The night took away a great deal of energy, and walking into a losing battle did not please him.


[edit: bad information on Koriasai. sorry, seska!]

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Thu Dec 05, 2002 10:44 pm
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The meeting had been reconvened relatively quickly, but this time, it was not open to all ears who would hear it.

Pearl paced around the wooden table,at which most o the cities advisors sat, twiddling their thumbs or looking over maps.

"No, no...they have control of the gates. All of them. They would have been able to circle around and come in the back if it weren't that there were a thousand foot wall to be climbedo n the north flank there...and they cannot get in through Koriasai..."

The young lookign woman, although shorter than everyone here, stopped and glared menacingly at the outspoken advisor.

"Clearly ya donnae get the picture. Koriasai is defendable....very easily. There is noo way in 'cept the gate that is behind this cities walls, an' once that is manned, they could ne'er get in, unless they wished ta try an' cross the mountains. Five peaks...all of 'em quite tall...pretty much stop any army from coming doon ta the rim o' the vale, an' anyway, they stil lcouldna' get down the cliffs without gettin' slaughtered. They hae to come in through here...through the city. Currently, they are unable ta get in...ye know as well as I the wall runs in an ellipse around the pass into Koriasai an' butts up directly against the sheer face o' carven stone. None can go through there, ye ken. The side gates are impregnable as is the main gate...however, I donnae think we are dealin' wit' a standard threat here.

She looked at theb ig map pinned to the wall, and pointed after she explained.

"[color=]We hae damned nea' three thousand enemy soldiers sitin on our front gates, an' smaller units on the side gates. We could attack the side parties, as was sugge'sted by the general, but then the main army would simpl' sweep out an' destroy our men, an' then it would be easy ta gain access ta the city. We only hae nine hundered thirty seven men, gentlemen...thats it. They hae a grand total o' some four thousand one hundered men hanging aboot oot there...thas' more than four ta one odds, ya realize?[/color]"

She stopped in mid dictation, and stared at the figure, draped in shadows, in her door way.

"Aye, noow who bey e? Wha' ya 'ere fer?


Fri Dec 06, 2002 10:14 pm
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The old mage simply sighs at the overly asked question. He reaches beneath his cloak and reveals an arrow from the battle.

I am shocked that you do not recognize me, Madam Pearle Roulve. Maybe if I had one of your men shoot this at me, you'd recognize me better. I truly hope my nephew is not greeted the same way, he might decide to take his command of five hundred men back to Quonotae.

More importantly though. I much desire to converse with Lady Seska regarding the situation out there.


Ruune waves his arm slightly behind him, then steps into the room. His purple cloak, stained with mud, trails close behind him. Mikka follows him into the room.

I understand, however, Lady Seska has not arrived. Then you, Lady Pearl, are in charge, as I have been told. I should share what is going on out there with you then.

When my party of twenty five men arrived, five hundred men stood attacking our normal gate of entry. Allow me to advise you that they are poorly organized, ill trained, armed with second-rate weapons. We were able to cut through a portion of their force without incident. Three of our men were lost, a humble and brave sacrifice to reducing a force by nearly a quarter.

This seige of theirs is poorly organized indeed. I have yet to see any evidence of the ability to breach the mighty gates protecting this city. Their great number has my attention, however, should they break through one of the small gates, your archers could easily eliminate their threat. That is, granted they do not shoot at your own troops. To control their entrance would be beneficial to us all, should they gain access to the city.

I have no suggestion but to wait for Lady Seska. I fear something more is behind this attack. A poorly organized army attacking a secured city. It makes no sense. Meanwhile, my troops will take a few hours rest, as my spell upon them has worn off. When they are rested, they will take up duty as your soldiers, and my wizards as yours as well.

I wish to speak to you alone regarding this attack. It has me disturbed....


Ruune and Mikka bow in unison, then turn to exit. Mikka leaves into the hallway. Ruune stops near the doorway, then turns back to Pearle.

You are handling this quite well, my young friend. Your Grandmother will be quite pleased.

Ruune smiles vibrantly, then turns and leaves, the shadowy figure he first appeared to be.


Fri Dec 06, 2002 10:50 pm
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The darkness ends over Quonotae, and the large party of troops begins to assemble in the central Gathering Point. Kinemil's defenses spread thin, it cannot spare another warrior, despite Ruune's wishes. Knowing his uncle expected five hundred men, and knowing he had exceeded that number by a hundred, Commander Sharpedge's satisfaction had not been met. He calls for a scribe, and prior to their depart, he sends a message to Quonotae's neighbors:

Justicars and Friends,

It is unfortunate that I cannot be before you in person, however matters of great importance must be cared for. Seska's capitol has fallen under attack. I now march, seven hundred men strong, to aide my Uncle in defending Justicars land. I fear that perhaps seven hundred men will not be enough. I ask, I beg of you, please. Spare any men that you may and send them to join our battle.

My thanks and my Uncle's unto you,

Ruune Sharpedge.


Scribes. Take one to the leaders of each of our neighbors. Do not return to Quonotae. If there is a message, you will bring it directly to me in Civitas Aeturnus. Else, you will join our brothers in arms and accompany them to our battle as members of their army. Now ride your hardest. Might the Quill protect you in your journeys.

Ruune turns back to his army, then waves it forward. The hope of reaching Civitas Aeturnus before its destruction in each man's mind, the army marches briskly over the hills and out towards the southwest, towards the Eternal City.

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Sat Dec 07, 2002 9:54 pm
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The lady walked along into the outter hall, dismissing the others to go off to their seperate tasks, and tran to catch up to Ruune. She had to say of the happenings. Somewhere deep down, a fire burned that said that he should be hung by his feet over the enemy, but something else said that was unwise.

She merely smiled paley at the suggestions and information, and shook her head sadly.

"Yes, I was aware of how you managed to get in here. The opponents to the south are about five times as good as those you dealt with. DId I mention we -had- 2,000 troops, or thereabouts att he outset? They had 3400. They drove us back like we were nothing...it was insane. No, their armies are idiots and do not know discipline from a hole in the wall...but there -is- something else out there, and it does not seem to be very pleasent, and it seems to be quite upset. I am sorry, Lord, but you wished to speak with me privately? What of?"

She moved to gain a place in front of him, and then stood there, looking up unto his face from somewhere around about his midsection.

What is on your mind?"


Sat Dec 07, 2002 10:59 pm
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Tired and sore, Ruune looks into Pearle's eyes. She reminds him of his own daughter, Venetia.

Pushing the thought and memory from his mind, he shakes his head ever so slightly. Back in the moment, he resumes his thoughts on the seige.


Indeed a great deal is on my mind. I am beguiled as to why this seige has occurred. There are quite a many soldiers out there. Most are untrained. None have proper war equipment. Why? It makes no sense for a hopeless band of misfits to attack a prestigious city when there are camps of refugee's much easier to overrun. Why then, would they attack a completely impenetrable city?

I assure you, we expended more energy in our ride here than in combat with the enemy. I would imagine that should a rain of arrows hurtle to the ground unto their massive armies, then they will surely perish. However, I still question why they attack in the first place. What could be driving them? The answer to that question can only be something that grips their minds with fear, moreso than death itself. What can hold such power? And why do -they- want Koriasai?

And now you tell me that they drove your fine army back within the city walls! To this, I am shocked. Fear is a great enemy, and ally.

Whatever happened out there before, whatever is happening now, I don't like it. I have never, in all my years, seen a band of rifraf assault a hopeless target with such diligence. Something ...

Ruune pauses for half a second and kneels down to look into Pearle's eyes.

Someone is driving them. Whoever it is, they are stronger than anyone I have ever encountered. My magick is useless against this enemy. It took more effort to block the very arrows I showed you in there than it should have.

There is something out there, and I, quite frankly, am terrified of whatever it is.


Sun Dec 08, 2002 1:15 pm
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She backed away a little bit, and shook her head, and nodded in the general direction of the city walls.

"I can agree...they are driven by something unpleasent. I cannae e'en venture ta guess at wha't is tha' would want this place soo bad tha' they would sacrifice a lot o' lives ta get it. But trained or nae, these men know hoow ta kill, an' they enjoy doin' it all too much-"

Her words were cut short. From somewhere outside, came an enormous sound of explosions, and then another. Above it, she could hear the screams of the sorcerors manning the walls....they had failed in actually preventing the enemy magics from doing what they wanted to the walls, and after four more explosions, there came the expected sound of masonry clattering to the ground. And then, shortly following that, was the sound of swords, and even to her own horror, the sound of something horrible roaring its frustrations.

She could hear her own men screaming and running in abject terror as whatever it was made an apearance, and before she could finish her sentance, she was bounding through the hallways othe mansion at her top speed. The sword that was slung onto her back occasionally hit ground as she ran, but did not seem to slow her any.

AS she burst from the doors of the mansion, she could see it, despite the fact that it was a hundered yards or better away. It was a massive thing of slick black skin, about half the height of the wall, and it was wielding an unbelievably big sword. It seemed to stare at her for a second before swinging the great sword in its hands at the wall itself, cleaving cleanly away a further portion of it, ignoring the arrows that decorated its hide....

"What.....the.....fuck......."


Sun Dec 08, 2002 6:43 pm
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He hears the crash, one after another, one more, then the fourth, like violent collisions of the gods. Screams break out beyond the mansion, their voices silenced as stone crushes them, only to be replaced by the panicked shouts of warriors, swords to their hands, clashing with the enemy.

Then the roar, that terrible roar, brings goosebumps to Ruune's spine. As the ground shakes beneath him, he notices Pearle is running down the hall. He picks himself up and bolts down the hall in pursuit. A sinking feeling in his gut forces the realization that whatever drives these lowly warriors has reared its ugly head. He catches up to Pearle quickly, puts a hand on his blade, pulls his casting orb from beneath his cloak.


I hate this part ....

Ruune notices that Pearle has stopped. He hears her muttering something, but doesn't hear the words. His eyes are locked on a large demonlike creature, skin as smooth as the sun, darker than night. A truly scary sword in the beast's hand, ridiculously larger than any pike Ruune has ever seen. Decorated with arrows, the thing's bulkyness does not slow it down as it carves through the wall cleanly and neatly.

... I really hate this part ...


Sun Dec 08, 2002 7:15 pm
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As the sun begins to align with the Earths surface, the light begins to fade in color, becoming darker and darker. The once golden sky seems to have been forgotten. All that is left of it is some purple residue that is softly reflected off of the everlasting clouds.

A soft, yet icy breeze is felt brushing through the Willows and timber that seem to be in an eternal sleep. The strong sturdy hull of certain trees are left unmoved, their old age is noticed through the many scars they received. Leaves calmly release themselves from their fathers, and fall onto the floor, only to become dead in color and become a part of the circle of life.

In the distance, a soft sequential thumping is heard. Slowly becoming louder and louder through every passing hit, much like the sound of a man tapping his fingers impatiently. As the leaves float peacefully onto the floor the tapping is still growing.

A once wild animal, now tamed over many years of being a domestic creature, has a human figure mounted on it. It is a man, his body dragging along a purple cloak which struggles viciously in the wind.

Like the speed of a candle going out. A glisten is seen through the air, reflecting the same hue left in the sky.

The man is dismounted; he flies as if he was pushed off his horse by a divine being. The horse lifts its upper body into the air and yells out an ear piercing cry. When its front legs make contact with the floor, its eyes are filled with the instinct to run, to survive. Instead, the horse does not move, but only stands there and begins to move the grass on the floor around with its nose.

Quickly, what seems to be a demonic elven archer comes into view out of thin air. Arching bow wrapped around his chest, it seems to be gnarled, yet its edges glisten.

Softly the figure pats the horse on its head, and walks over to examine his fallen victim. He pauses for a second, then reaches down and grabs a neatly rolled scroll. He unravels the scroll and without muttering a word, jumps onto the horse and gallops in the direction from which the scribe came, farther into the darkness.


Sun Dec 08, 2002 7:16 pm
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 62
Location: Trapped in Eternity
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The mage stares, absolutely shocked, completely drained now. He came from battle less than an hour ago and wished not to see another one for some time. This beast pisses him off to the point of rage. His blood boiling, annoyed to the point of hate, anger rushing around him almost the same as when he watched his mother's assasination eleven hundred years prior. Hate he had stowed away for moments as such before him. Realizing an enraged wizard with a sword will accomplish nothing, Ruune snaps back into the moment.

Spinning the sword around in the palm of his wrist, he sheaths the blade. He swaps his orb to his right hand, then slowly swirls his left hand around the crystal, causing the cold blue to grow and radiate. Focusing his energy, he looks into his orb, the cold and bitterness effecting the winds all around them. Each of his four rings begin to glow by the stones: first the index finger ruby, the middle finger's diamond, the third finger's reflective opal, and the fourth finger's emerald. Touching his five fingers to the sphere, he slowly begins to draw them away, a blue static joining each finger to the orb. The orb and the stones pulse into life, then dim, then return, each passing pulse the distance between the fingers and the orb increase. Ruune raises his hand and his orb over his head. Summoning fierce power, he has the beast's attention.


You! Hear me now, for I am your oponent! You will fail and you will fall on this day.

Flakes of snow form from the cold strings of energy, drift quietly down to Ruune's feet, instantly melting.

Master of all that is cold,
Find this wretch before us here,
Evil there is fondand bold,
It shall freeze and disappear,
The evil hide and run from cold,
His body shatters with its fear.


Ruune waves his arms down and towards the beast. From the orb, a beam of pure cold slams itself into the beast's chest. It shrieks as its skin morphs from black and smooth to cold and jagged, its breath escapes the beast's lungs for the final time. An arrow pierces it from behind, shattering the beast to slivers.

A quick grin, Ruune allows his arms to fall to his side, rings and orb silent now, tired as the old mage himself. He steps back twice, then down to a knee. Voices of many mold into one, and as he blacks out, he hopes his vision of the wall repairing itself is indeed real.


Mon Dec 09, 2002 11:15 pm
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Stablehand

Joined: Sun Dec 08, 2002 12:41 am
Posts: 2
Post 
After releasing the short silver javelin into the frozen giant, the camoflagued archer walks across the battle field, still hiding within the shadows. still bending the light around his body. He walks swiftly, trying not to attract any attention, towards the hole in the wall. The walk through the turmoil is simple, everyone is occupied in their own bubble of the confusion.

As soon as he reaches the custom-fit doorway, he glances at the fragments of the giant spread about on the floor. Softly he turns and notices the fallen mage. He walks towards the mage and softly kicks his cloak open. Before he can get his hands in there, out of the corner of his eye, he notices another being in prospective.

Angered that he did not sense it comming, he retreats around the side of the building. Hoping not to be seen in such a spot, he lies in wait. All the while keeping his eyes on the unfamiliar intruder.


Tue Dec 10, 2002 12:47 am
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 9
Location: Kineml City, Capital of Quonotae
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The ghostly figure dashes from the body lying limp upon the stairs. He marches closer to the door and recognizes his friend lying in a state of total exhaustion. Mikka drops his sword back into the sheath at his side, sprints to the opened doorway.

Shouts from both attacking parties colliding in a violent storm of metal against metal, pure chaos surrounds the Mansion, the entire city for that matter. As with all attacks, once the walls give, chaos drives the sensible peasants into insensibility, placing them in the way of danger. Torn by his will to protect the people, Mikka decides the best way to do that is to aid his own leader. Without leaders, who commands the peasants, he reasons. Ample trained warriors about the mansion, one less for a few moments will not lose or save the city.

Lifting the limp body that is Ruune Hakko, he bolts back into the mansion, racing into a main area populated by a few servants.


You! Get him to a healer. NOW!

The barked orders brew a reaction from all three servants in the room, each one trying to decide which one was the recipient of the command. Mikka passes Ruune's limp and tired body into the arms of the three servants, ungracefully attempts to spin on his heels, then charges back out towards the stairs, sword in hand.

Down the stairs, a body before him with a short sword. Mikka's longsword cuts through the air, bounces off the short sword, comes back just as gracefully, knocks the weapon away. The longsword stops at the heart and plunges forward violently shattering the critical organ. The warrior slides off the end as Mikka slows to a march. A second warrior, two short swords. One swings at Mikka's left, blocked without effort. A swing from the second to his right, ducked beneath. The opening, Mikka's sword comes up from a low guard, slicing a wrist open. Two swords hit the dirt, the warrior drops to his knees, left to die of a severed hand. A small group of six men form a protective circle at the Mansion's entry point, Mikka abandons it, searching for something.

Only a few warriors attack him on his march around the left of the mansion, two pairs, three singles. The three single warriors rush at him one at a time, each armed with a pike. The first pike becomes two pieces of kindling, the weapon's owner another body to fill a hole. The second, not much different, the pike however does not break into two. The third, swinging the pike like a sword, strikes at Mikka. The pike splinters under the force of the collision of metal-on-wood. A shocked assailant takes two steps back, turns to run, trips over a body before running like the coward he is.

The first tandem catches him surrounded slightly. The two rush him from each side, swing simultaneously, catch Mikka's sword. They repeat the dance twice before the two behead each other. Mikka spots the shadowy figure just then, and takes two deliberate steps towards it before facing a second pair. They rush towards him, swords at low guard, always dangerous when battling a longsword expert. Mikka swings low, intentionally making the two block his attack, bounces his sword off theirs, then spins a full rotation, swinging high at the attackers. One head rolls away, the body transformed into a fountain of blood. The other attacker's tunic grows a deep red as blood rushes from his neck down his body.

Mikka looks to where he saw the shadowy intruder before, not suprised to see nothing in its place. He sighs, then turns back and sprints to the mansion's entrance resuming defensive duties. Hopeful that Master Sharpedge will speed the reinforcements, the tired warrior gravely continues fighting a double battle -- warriors and exhaustion.


Wed Dec 11, 2002 8:04 pm
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