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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| All for One and One for a Brawl; [Reserved for Andromalius] | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 8 2009, 01:20 PM (106 Views) | |
| Orion de Lacey | Jun 8 2009, 01:20 PM Post #1 |
Governor of Ashoka
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There were two things that Orion seemed to hate in the world: people, and obnixously warm cities. The former couldn't be helped - people were everywhere, and try as you might, you simply couldn't just make them all disappear - but the latter was something he constantly asked himself. Why am I here? What the hell was I thinking? Why haven't I left yet? Those three questions had become a mantra in his head as he prowled the streets with a scowl upon his face. It wasn't the first time Orion had gone somewhere without really thinking about it, and it wouldn't be the last either. At least there were mildly competent soldiers wandering around - he could easily find himself in a brawl, alleviating his anger and frustration. And that was what he intended to do. With an alignment that could only scream chaotic evil, the devilish face of the young man appeared before a hapless commoner, two pails of water slung across his shoulders via a wooden bar. Orion's mismatched eyes were alight with a fire only seen in the insane; his nose was almost pressed against the older man's. The latter, shocked, staggered back several steps, his water sloshing over the sides. He glared at Orion, whose face had twisted into a wolfish grin. "Look what ya did, boy! You just made me spill my water." "I'm going to make you spill more than just that, old man." The scythe appeared from behind him, both blades attached. The heads gleamed in the sunlight, a warm summer's breeze ruffling the feathers that decorated them. The man's eyes widened, surprised. He really should have been paying attention. The buckets fell to the dry ground as the fighter lashed out. Light on his feet, Orion swung the scythen with toned arms, visible due to his lack of sleeves. One blade bit into the man's shoulder and, with a violent twist, threw him to the ground, backwards head over heels; the second tore into his chest. Amidst the man's dying, pleading, helpless screams, the blades alternated hacking into his body, spraying blood and flesh across the walls, the street, and the murderer standing above him. Blood and water mingled on the sand-dusted cobblestones and Orion's feet sloshed in it, the glee upon his face mimicking that of a young child's. The victim, now a pile of mutilated and unrecognizable flesh and bone, lay upon the street in a bloody heap. The sound of footsteps behind him caused Orion to whip around. The grin had not left his face, nor the insanity from his eyes. "Are you aware of what you've just done, son?!" one asked, incredulous. The Devil's advocate nodded, flashing his teeth. His garb, a black shirt beneath a sort of leather jerkin, and a pair of equally black pants, only heightened the dark aura that seemed to surround him. The wind that circumnavigated his body pushed outward in a violent blast, tearing at the six men who had all gathered beside him. One muttered something about not touching the insane man, while others stared with slack jaws. The apparent leader of the small group pointed his weapon, a spear, at Orion. He spoke wtih an authoritarian tone. "For what you have done you must answer to your crimes, boy! Cease and desist all action!" Orion's grin widened. The blood-stained scythen twisted in front of him, diagnol to his body as he leaned forward, his body adopting the appearance of a wolf about to spring upon its target. "Come and get me boys," he said. Sweat was mattered to his forehead and the hot sun was still proving to be a thorn in his side, but now, at least, he had something with which to amuse himself. He was feeling particularly murderous today; the sheep before him would do quite nicely. The gail that had formed around his body continued to swirl. The men, slightly perplexed, warily prepared for a brawl. Little did they know that that was exactly what Orion wanted. |
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| Andromalius | Jun 8 2009, 01:50 PM Post #2 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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Ashoka, his last destination before everything fell into place. He had waited so long to come here for both it's inconvenience and the little fact that this place, with its internal conflicts, would be like a weak organ easy for a virus such as himself to swallow. Unity beneath one flag was easy for a third party to obtain, particularly a party with the aid of a Necromancer General and a fallen angel at the head. Still, one should not be so cocky that one wouldn't even scout out the lay of the land. Not that he hadn't been here before, but the borders had changed, as had the culture and its forces. His journey had begun on the complete opposite side of the continent. It had been a considerably long trek, and hopeful for its worth, the tall, lone foreigner walked the streets in a daze. The heat wasn't a bother, for his body always sought it. If anything, it was the light that touched everything, and the obnoxious monotony of the architecture. Ashokans were fond of their natural tones. At night he had arrived, seeking a place to rest. He had entered the first tavern he had seen and ordered a cup of tea to whet his pallet before commencing the patterns of a tourist. Down the market street, he had stopped at nearly every stall, half out of curiosity, half of intrigue as to what the country had to offer in resources. Seemed it was mostly just a whole lot of sand. On the contrary, he had also found an exceptional amount of magical items ...as well as an irritating amount of white magi apprentices. It seems the hiccup of a war had given a generation meaning. What a laugh. And they had thought they'd seen war... Mid-day once more, he had amused himself briefly by following the loyalists. If he sought recruits, he would seek it in their victims, for none were so promising as those with grudges against the way things were. After a few failed attempts, just on the brink of giving up on his perfect Ashokan soldier, the familiar wails of agony drifted into his ear. It was faint, but for one so accustomed to such sounds, it was particularly easy for him to pick it up. What lay at the end of this rainbow, at the very least, was someone who knew how to fight, as well as a body who didn't mind inflicting harm. It was the most promising event of the day so far. The foreigner left his perch and perused. Coming closer, he could hear the voices of many. Our potential soldier could be outmatched, but when the wraith finally stepped into view, when he could see the hue of his prey's mismatched eyes and the blaze burning within them, he could see his pessimism had no place here. He took no movement to disguise or hide himself. Andromalius watched in delight as the fighter beckoned his multiple opponents to charge, and watched as they hesitantly obeyed. |
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| Orion de Lacey | Jun 9 2009, 11:09 AM Post #3 |
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Governor of Ashoka
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Orion was vaguely aware of the arrival of another, but that other did not seem to want to interfere. For that reason, and that reason only, he didn't pay them any heed. It was also likely that, after this particular killing spree, his bloodlust would be satiated. Then it would be time to run, as he'd have every available guard in Ashoka who wasn't involved in some petty war with a bunch of overgrown tribesmen and an equally overgrown king on his heels. Even now his penalty would likely be death if he were caught, and as much as he would have liked to have slaughtered a hundred or two hundred men and women, it was physically not within his means. Especially here, where the sun blotted out all darkness and there was very limited moving air. The first two guards moved forward, the more headstrong ones of the group. They launched themselves at him, wielding their spears with obvious proficiency. Not one to just stand around and defend, Orion met them halfway. If there was one thing that half the world seemed to do, it was underestimate not only what he was capable of, but also that having a second blade attached to an otherwise normal scythe meant twice the damage would be dealt. These men, clearly, had never dealt with a double-sided weapon wielded by a maniac who was a tad lighter on his feet than most. The black-headed blade bit into the first man, tearing through his chest like it was parchment, and, with a shift in direction, the white-headed blade, using its own momentum, carried itself into his groin. The air was bit by a piercing scream as it lodged into the guard's pelvis. Orion kicked out, using the man's abdomen as a means of re-obtaining his weapon. The scythen tore through the guard's body. He dropped to the ground, his pelvis shattered, his organs sliding through the hole that had been made through his abdomen. He didn't have very long to live. There was a flurry of movement. The remaining four guards who hadn't decided to jump into the frenzy did so now, along with the fallenn's companion, the one who had froze at the sight of his friend being maimed. The fighter could see the terror in their eyes. They weren't just dealing with a normal, crazed man. No, indeed. They were dealing with a beast. For Orion movements came in near-slow motion. Perhaps it was because he was used to the dizzying movements of the air currents and the feeling of it around his body, or perhaps because, to be successful with a heavy polearm, his mind was always working to keep one step ahead of others', and usually was. Fancy footwork went a long way. As the men rushed him in the hopes of overwhelming, Orion retreated a few steps, his breathing laboured but his eyes alight with the hunt. Once he had assessed the situation, he re-entered the fray. His lust was at its peak, and he'd be damned if he would be denied. The resolve of the men had withered since they had initially engaged him. Where they had once felt confident that they could subdue him, they now only bothered to fight because they knew that if they didn't and Moghul caught wind of it... well, they wouldn't live to see another sunrise anyway. Realy, there was no way to avoid death now. Several weapons gleamed in the hot sunlight, casting ugly glares. Sweat matted hair to faces, clothes to body, dripped off of bare and covered arms alike; it ran down the sides of faces, into eyes, mouths, ears. Sometime during the middle of the brawl Orion had managed to shift the chain around his waist to his right arm. He had wound it around it and each time a spear came down in a pitiful attempt to wound him, it was deflected with ease. The wind, too, had become an issue, for it seemed to have a mind of its own, blowing hair into the eyes of the guards, obscuring their sight. Eventually, the clang of a spear against chain or scythen began to diminish. Some were unarmed, some were hacked to pieces, others simply dropped their weapon; one fled. By the end of it, whether by severed tendons, massive lacerations, missing fingers or near-missing limbs, four living men were hunched on the ground, coated in blood, cowering in pools of their own life source. One was on the verge of dying; the first man to have fallen was already dead. Orion stood in the midst of them, the lust slowly leaving his eyes. He was gasping. Covered in blood both his own and theirs, he turned to stare at each man in turn. All of them were wounded and all of them were in a great deal of pain. Rather than finish them off, as was usually his wont, Orion left them to their own devices. What did he care if they lived or died, if they could stand to fight another day or perished upon their battlefield? Smiling devilishly, like a harmless, mischievous imp who had only played a minor prank, the fighter bolted. Bloody footprints followed him; the squelching sound slowly dissipated. Behind him, he was quite pleased with the carnage he had left. When someone stumbled upon that particular street, they would find nought but gore. He didn't feel at all sorry for the poor bastard who would have to wash the red street clean. The scythen made its way to his back. He brushed by the stranger who had stood to watch the scene. Orion's head tilted back to glance back at the other, watching him for a moment, before his eyes swung forward. Darting around a corner and then another, to an alley, the fighter, with ease, hauled himself up a long wall of hanging vines, to the rootop above. Gasping for air, he fell onto his bottom once at the top and ran his bloody fingers through his hair. Out of unconscious habit his weapon had been removed from his back and had been placed beside him. Orion unwound the chain from his arm, holding it in his hands. He had a few wounds, a few gashes here and there, but nothing serious. Nothing like what he had done to those men. Nothing at all. |
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| Andromalius | Jun 15 2009, 09:10 PM Post #4 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The fighter didn't seem to mind being watched, and the soldiers were still too preoccupied to notice. In his mind, he was analyzing every fraction of movement. Over his years, he had seen many strong warriors with great powers, but sometimes plain skill was more valuable than techniques or spells. This was indeed what he felt his regime was missing. The crotch shot was by far the highlight of the battle, even if it came early and ended quickly. Even the dark-hearted mage had to shudder. He didn't think he, himself, was capable of such a cruel attack. One felt the urge to double over and vomit. A lesser man, no doubt, would, particularly since you could, if you looked hard enough, see the clean slice between the soldier's legs and the squishy innards it had revealed. But the most interesting thing, besides the gruesome scene of carnage, was the fellow's eyes. They blazed, not unlike his own, aged beyond his body. As the hollering diminished, when he was passed by, he boldly met the stranger's stare with his own, and for a split second, an entire conversation passed between them. Surely similar souls would acknowledge one another upon a first glance. Unfortunately, the fighter was too fast for him to call out and keep his attention. It was smart of him to dash away immediately, another thing his army could use more of. He wouldn't put it past Venge, or even Sphynx, to simply wallow in the mess they'd made, even if it meant getting captured. Well... Sphynx could practically level half a city if she tried, so it was a bit of a different situation with her... The mage's palm smacked against the rough sandstone wall, drawing from it one of his cherished elementals. The Banshee himself may not possess the speed, but the creature did. "After him," he commanded it. "Stall him until I get there, but remain nowhere obvious." The creature slithered away as if it were gliding on an oil slick obediently as its master behind it took his time walking at an unhurried pace. ((Feel free to use the elemental in yer next post. And sorry it took so long. I had half of a huge post already done when my comp decided to spontaneously reboot.)) Edited by Andromalius, Jun 15 2009, 09:11 PM.
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| Orion de Lacey | Jun 17 2009, 04:33 PM Post #5 |
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Governor of Ashoka
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The elemental was probably unnecessary on the whole, but it was a nice touch. Knowing that the guards would only just be finding their slaughtered men and also knowing that they didn't have a chance in hell of catching him now unless he decided to come down, Orion was more than happy to occupy the roof of some poor beggar. He took command of the wind surrounding his body, that wind which was slowly dying down and was very much like a lifeline to him, directing it around his body. It swirled, ruffling the plants upon the rooftops. His eyes shifted restlessly from one thing to another until, in his peripheral vision, he saw something entirely out of place. He glanced fully in its direction, frowning. It was a creature of sorts, fast-moving and magical in nature. The latter was something he knew only from having had experience with magic - the air that circumnavigated his body was certainly not just a strange work of Nature - but nothing more. Not that Orion would have cared to identify its elemental type, its alignment, or any such other things. The fact that it was here now, and was obviously derived from magic, was enough to have the fighter up on his feet, the scythen rocking easily in his one hand. The other wound the chain around his waist again. If it was a battle this creature desired, it could have one, but there would be no need for his substitute arm guard. If this was what he though tit was, an elemental of sorts, then magic would be the name of the game. Magic Orion had, though not in vast quantities. Yet, the elemental did not seem interested in attack. It zipped across his line of vision, darting in and among the trees, popping up here, popping up there. After thirty seconds of watching it and being unable to identify anything about it - appearance, attributes, oddities - a slow smile crept to Orion's face. It wasn't here to have anything to do with him - it was a distraction. Snorting, his grin widened. Rather than deal with the creature, he turned, glanced down at the streets below, and began his descent down the way he had come. The guards weren't below yet. The elemental appeared beside him not a moment later. He swung out at it as it tapped him on the shoulder, missed, growled. He did his best to ignore it until he reached the ground, where it began to flit about his body, narrowly evading his swats. With the scythen strapped to his back, there was nothing Orion could do but slap at it. For a creature that wasn't exactly small, it certainly kept out of harm's way. Suddenly, it backed off. Orion glanced up, wary, his hand reaching behind him. His back was to a stack of crates. If he wanted to climb them he could, but the likelihood that he would be caught and pulled down was high. His right hand tightened around the silver shaft. |
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| Andromalius | Jun 17 2009, 06:03 PM Post #6 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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"Oh, please," scoffed the unnaturally pale man, waving a hand in dismissal at the actions the fighter took to his weapon. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it already. Relax." It was the stranger that had shared a passing glance, the one who had been watching the battle. The mage grinned broadly, and soon he was joined by the frisky elemental that darted around its master like a torrent of shadow, wallowing in the grace of the Wicked's black aura. The little display the two of them, his summon and the scythe master, had put on had amused him greatly. He chuckled ominously now, though, quite far from the laughter of innocent amusement. A dark hood hid everything on the stranger's face from the bridge of his nose and up. The cloak it was attached to had been tossed over both shoudlers to reveal a black, asian-style tunic fastened along the side of his chest, tied to his figure by a bold rust-red sash of gause fabric. Humble black pants clothed his bottom half, tucked into a pair of not-so-humble leather stomping boots that ran up his shins, held to him by an array of chaotic silver buckles. His arms were wrapped in a similar style, black leather bracers set upon gause fingerless gloves, the belts beginning and ending between his elbows and just above his biceps. His hair was down, flowing freely past his chest, not ending until the pure white locks reached his waist. A single braid was woven into the left side amongst the otherwise loose tresses. "I saw what you did back there," she Banshee said silkily. "And you unknowingly impressed me. I am here to appeal to your deepest desires in exchange for your skills, Fighter." |
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| Orion de Lacey | Jun 19 2009, 01:42 PM Post #7 |
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Governor of Ashoka
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Orion's hand dropped from his back, swinging instead to fiddle with the chain at his waist. The wind that surrounded his body had died considerably since the fiery battle, become a gentle gust that touseled his hair, blowing it across his mismatched eyes. The intensity of those eyes, one a somber green and the other a vivacious blue, had no words to describe them; they burned like a roaring inferno yet bore the mighty thunderclaps of a thunderstorm, a whirling vortex of various emotions and feelings combined into two irises, two pupils, two scleras. Most prominent, however, was the devilishness that he often exhibited. He couldn't have cared less about people and it showed, inside his eyes. Perhaps the other was telling the truth, perhaps not, but Orion wasn't about to dash forward and bludgeon the man. He had magic, that much was obvious, and if he had summoned one creature, it was almost guaranteed that he could summon more. Hearing the other's proposition, a small smile played across Orion's lips. He didn't enter into contracts with people unless there was some sort of gain for him. What could this demon possibly offer him that would make him want to help him? The fighter leaned back against the crates, his appearance morphing into someone who was boredly interested with what another had said. Orion glanced down at his hands, now both free, before his eyes rose to meet that of his pursuer's. "What'll you give me in exchange for my skills, hmm? I'm curious to know, because there aren't too many things in this world that I really desire. And I don't just help people for nothing. You make an offer, and I'll tell you whether it's a yes or a no." Orion smiled thinly. Arrogance radiated from him, thick and fast. He hardly cared that he'd impressed somebody, or that impression had been 'good'. If he didn't get what he wanted it'd all be for naught, anyway. Orion's deadliest sin was greed. |
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| Andromalius | Jun 21 2009, 09:31 PM Post #8 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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"Didn't I say I'd want your skills in exchange for something? I left that open-ended for you to ask me for whatever you wish. Anything can be arranged. But you seem more amused at what I might be able to come up with." His own intimidating gaze met with Orion's, an unseen battle playing between them. If one were to stumble upon the pair, they may be grounded simply by the weight of the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Andromalius laughed darkly, a subtle little cackle. This guy ...so arrogant. He knew not what kind of demon was standing before him. As an alternative, he could always use his summons to hold him down while his talons played at his kidneys. Perhaps that would put a little respect into him. But only if the lad refused... For now, the plan was to make an ally, not a dead and useless blood stain. "Well..." he glanced around, then, with a sweeping motion, his arms unfurled to gesture to their surroundings. "...How about Ashoka? It's to be conquered very soon by my forces. It's only but a few days away, as the pieces are set and itching to make things bleed. I'll need someone to throne-sit for me until I have Soto, Morrim, and Angkar. Do what you like with it." Idly, as if it were as complicated as scratching his nose, his long white hands spread against the adjacent wall, creating some kind of rift between this world and a world of pitch darkness. The creature he had created excitedly bounded back into the black hole from which it came, where the pit then swirled into a pin-point until it wholly disappeared. "On top of that, I offer you massive power over the western lands, women, riches, exotic weapons, jewels... Anything you want. Well, just about anything." |
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| Orion de Lacey | Jun 29 2009, 10:39 PM Post #9 |
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Governor of Ashoka
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Weathered fingers drummed against the crates. Orion weighed the options before him, his brow furrowing. Greed was a touchy thing, and if he didn't get exactly what he wanted, the deal would be cancelled. However, this other seemed to be willing to bargain. So far the bargain was looking pretty good, but there was something particular that he wanted now; the riches, the women, the weaponry and the jewelry - all things that he didn't necessarily need or really want - could wait. "Throne-sit? And how long, exactly, would I be doing that for? Until you felt like showing up and taking over again? I don't just give things up so easily, and I don't settle for less, either. Therefore, if you really have need for my skills, you'll be willing to talk this out. What happens when you decide to take the throne from me? Where is my place in your precious army? A plain ol' lackey with nothing better to do with his time than listen to you? That doesn't really suit my interests, and I'm sure my decline to your... invitation... doesn't suit yours either. Make me the permanent ruler of Ashoka - I'll take orders from you and follow through with them, if that would make you happy - and I'd be more than happy to join your rag-tag band. Otherwise, you can forget it. I'm not about to be granted power only to lose it in a few months when you decide that it's time for you to become the sole ruler of all. Besides, the one seeking out world domination tends to do better when he has his minions to take over some areas, so that he can focus on his all-encompassing and all-destroying plans." Orion grinned. He wasn't stupid, by any stretch of the imagination. And, despite the fact that he'd never known this other person, knew absolutely nothing about him, there was an aura of power, a sureness that could not be erased. But these were the reasons why the fighter would ever consider being placed as a subordinate to someone else. No, indeed, Orion had his own ambitions, and if they began with Ashoka and worked their way above and beyond, all the better. Thoughts of one day overthrowing this other flickered through his mind, though the grin hid it well as his calculating eyes patiently followed that of the fiend's. He may just have to bend to the whims of his potential recruit if he truly wanted him. If not... Orion was more than prepared to fight until his death. And as he went down, bloody and pained, the maniacal laughter and the malicious grin would linger upon his visage, until the last breath passed between his torn lips. He would enjoy every minute of it. |
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