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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: |
| Beneath a Blood Red Sky; The Deciding Battle for Ashoka | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 26 2009, 08:56 PM (524 Views) | |
| Andromalius | Jul 26 2009, 08:56 PM Post #1 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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The night before hadn't been unusual. It had been cold and breezy, the people of the day tucked away to sleep until the sun came again, and those more prone to night wandering the streets. The military shift change had gone on without any disturbances, and the hours crawled by agonizingly slow for those who waited. A loyalist solider by the name of Anthony had finally shut his eyes to sleep by the time the moon had risen to the highest point in the clear, dark sky. Dawn came, as it always did, the sun's overbearing radiance painting the capital city in hues of amber and gold. People awoke and rose to continue on with their day to day life, none wondering if this could be the last time they saw a morning. Nobody ever thinks of those things because nobody could know. A lone cloud would slowly swim across the vast blue above the desert and disappear far, far off to the other side of the world. The sun was sinking, now painting tall shadows across the buildings and vendor stalls, a final gust of mid-day wind having a last howling word before all began to wind down. The temperature was swiftly dropping, ushering in the next night while Anthony awoke, just in time to see the sun sleepily creeping towards the vast sands. The shift change, once more, went without disruptions. He took his place on the outskirts of town, guarding the path that led from the desert to the south into the city. He would be sharing his duty with three other men, all equally unhappy to be here and not looking forward to the hours of boredom they had ahead of them. Looking up, Anthony noted the clouds, many of them, growing thicker and darker as they passed. Rain certainly would be interesting, but it seldom happened. Those clouds would likely just wait until they reached the jungle where, like all clouds, they would disappear. In his quest for an accurate prediction of what would happen to the billowing puffs in the sky, he would never realize that the only reason they were above now were to reflect the light of the fading sun, painting the sky red with all beneath it tinted rose. It seemed the sky was the first to know ...that tonight would not be eventless, that the three men posted in position would not have to endure another boring shift. Glancing to the horizon, Anthony's curiosity was peaked. There seemed to be a long line of discoloration there, things like metal glinting in the dusk. The desert could create many images, though, and this was not the first time he'd seen something slightly out of place, so he ignored it. Come to think of it... by now, they would have at least found a thief or a self-righteous rebel causing trouble. Where were those rats? "...Briggs." Anthony turned at the call of his co-worker. "You have an arrow in your shoulder." Anthony looked down, and sure enough, he could see a blood-coated arrowhead jutting out of his body. Only then did the pain begin, a deep and nearly crippling pain that had him doubled over, panicking. With a deep breath, he took a hold of the arrowhead and snapped it off, reaching behind him with the good arm to pull the rest of the rod out. He was breathing heavily, watching the ground become fuzzy and dark, but the darkness was not in his head. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the legs of his comrades carrying them backwards towards the inner city. They were staring at something. Anthony turned his head, and there in the distance, growing larger, was a massive black cloud, but it was too low and moving too quickly to be a cloud... Arrows. All three guards scrambled. Their shields would not provide adequate protection, and they would not be able to make it to a building in enough time. There was nothing in their minds about warning anyone, but simply surviving this, and all hopes were dashed as it finally began to rain... His last vision was of that discolored line on the horizon. It had grown, just enough to see the rows upon rows of armed men, Morrim's army, then it all went black. "Who shot that first arrow?" a demanding voice boomed over the horde of soldiers, its source: a man on the back of a black horse. His hands, plated in heavy, metal gauntlets tightened against the reigns. "Me, Sir! I have arthritis!" A soldier holding a bow fell back in line so that his commander may catch up. "Well, then you really have no business being an archer," the man said as a violet charge shot right through the archer's head, brain matter exploding from the back of it. The commander took a hold of his helm, a highly decorative thing somewhat depicting the likeness of a serpent's features, and pulled it from his head. White locks fell from their confinement, a pair of perpetually dark eyes inspecting the mess of the archer's dead body. Today was the day he could finally stop playing nice, the day when the greater part of Soare would be his, and all would begin to be crushed beneath his thumb. Now the real conquest would begin. "ARCHERS! READY!" his voice carried once more over all else. He had no need for someone to repeat him, as all could not help but hear this one's voice clearly. The front line of men halted, lowing mechanically to their knees as every bow stretched back, ready to unleash another black cloud. The rest did not stop, an onward march into the dry capital of Ashoka. "My Lord, reports are coming in of an invasion. All guards along the outer perimeter have been killed." "Which way are they coming?" "...All ways, Sire. We're surrounded." The current king gripped the arm of his throne. At last, the rebels were making their final move. "Send out all available military. How many are we up against?" "Vast numbers. Far more than we have met with in the past. These aren't just rebels. I've received word from survivors that the commander leading the attack is the current Emperor of Morrim." "Morrim?! What business do they have with us?! Where's the Empress?!" "Still missing, Sire. Suspected to have abandoned her country to the residing Emperor. Without further delay, we must get you to safety." "...Not only do we face the tribesmen, but also all of Morrim..." the king's head fell into his hand, his shriveled heart sinking into his feet. "Very well. To the shelter." The border between the endless sands and the stone walkways of the city had been breached. Soldiers came charging, sparing most civilians while cleaving through any armed men. The color of the stones beneath their feet were gradually becoming painted the same color as the sky now. The eager hooves of the black steed clattered behind a close group of men who dutifully protected their apparitional sovereign. When the horse stopped, so did they. Its master dismounted, landing on the ground with a flourish as he threw his cloak back. "Go maim some villagers," Andromalius cast a glance to his protectors, who respectfully bowed their heads and fled to join the raging city-wide battle. That annoyance off his shoulders, he called behind his shoulder. "Come, my Queen. Let me see what kind of mass carnage you are capable of wreaking." As he said this, his voice began to change, gaining an unearthly re-verb as if two of him were speaking with one set of vocals. His dark eyes blazed, the perpetual blacks swallowed by a sea of bright, glowing violet. The rings around his eyes spread along his face until they vanished, bones beneath the muscle of his face cracking and re-mending into less recognizable features, part of which was a lack of nose. The Banshee rolled his head around as a set of four hours began to rise upon his head, like drill bits from beneath his skull, his long luxurious hair sinking back, growing shorter and shorter until it stopped, blades of ice only a few inches in length. The shredding of fabric ushered in a fifth limb, a thick tail made from vertebrae bone unwinding from his backside, flicking from side to side as it explored its space. Blotches of dark red began to surface and stain his white skin until it consumed him, as if he had bathed in the blood beneath his feet. At last, he peered down at his monstrous hands from a new height of seven feet, the teeth of a crocodile glinting in the fading sun as he gave a smirk at his immensely enlarged muscular structure. With a satisfied sigh, he looked for his first victim, a wisp of dark miasma drifting out from his mouth. The Devil had come to claim the head of the King, and steal everything that stood on these grounds. |
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| Salster | Jul 27 2009, 11:39 AM Post #2 |
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It was no coincidence that the steel-clad Hell-Spawn stood within Ashoka's walls as the arrows began to rain down upon the citizens. Salster Corse stared at the volley of arrows, quickly and efficiently crouching beneath his shield as it crashed upon him. He stood with cold anger after the arrows struck. He was angry for many reasons. Most prominent was not the evil of the foe he was about to face, but his own lack of haste in dealing with it. He had heard of peculiar going-ons within the kingdom of Morrim, but had passed it off as idle gossip and rumor-spreading, ignoring it. It was now impossible to ignore. Salster had no personal siding with Morrim or Ashoka. Both were just kingdoms as far as he was concerned. However, he had heard enough rumor, and now seen from himself, though from afar, the obvious evil that was commanding Morrim's soldiers. He could not allow it to gain any more power than it had already acquired. Soon, if not already, it would be impossible for Salster in his current state to put up any sort of fight against the creature. Salster had no allies here, and could not afford to spend time trying to convince his Lord to supply additional Hell-Spawn to aid him. So, he stood alone, and could only hope that there were others who were willing to put their lives on the line to preserve the balance of the world, and to stop this obviously horrid creature. Soldiers of both Ashoka and Morrim were being slain all around him. Salster knew that he could not attempt to win this war single-handedly, nor fight the dark commander alone, so he aided Ashoka's soldiers, hoping to keep as many alive as possible to aid him when the time was right. "For the kingdom!" The cry was echoed by other soldiers in an attempt to keep morale up in the face of a horribly overwhelming force. Salster knew they would not mind a stranger aiding them at this point, so he began charging towards the first group of soldiers from Morrim, his blade of hellfire drawn and ready. The fighting with Morrim's soldiers was intense. Salster was more skilled than any one of them, but the chaos of so many soldiers from opposing sides clashing made skill far less relevant than luck. Salster had to be, for now, a combative opportunist. It was not a pleasant thing for him, but it had to be done if he wished to survive the fighting. "For Ashoka!" Salster let out his own battle-cry to assure the soldiers on whose side he was fighting for, and took a stab at a soldier from Morrim whose back was turned from him in the midst of fighting a soldier from Ashoka. The soldier fell at once, and a quick nod from the Ashokan showed his gratitude as he turned away to fight another. Salster turned to find himself faced by two Morrim soldiers. They were working together, and were intent on taking down the strangely mis-uniformed Ashokan warrior. "Try me," Salster said, scowling from beneath his helmet. The Morrim soldiers obeyed the request, and swung at him in coordination. Salster threw himself to the side to dodge one sword, placing his shield in the way of the other incoming sword. There was a crash of metal on metal before Salster swung his blade for the closer Morrim soldier's neck. The soldier was no fool, though, and dodged aptly. Again the two soldiers swung in coordination, but this time Salster decided to speed things up. He ducked behind his shield as one blade passed overhead and another crashed into the enchanted shield. Salster then surprised the two soldiers by charging forward and releasing a blast of hellfire from the shield. He immediately felt a bit drained, and stopped to regain his breath as the Morrim soldiers screamed more in surprise than pain at the wave of fire. With that advantage, Salster recovered and swung in a wide arc, hoping to defeat both soldiers at once. One got hit at the neck and fell, but the second recovered from his surprise and parried. "Why do you serve your master? He threatens all that keeps this world stable!" Salster shouted at his foe. He made for another swing, but his opponent ducked and made a quick slash at Salster's hip. The attack nipped through Salster's armor, the blade obviously of very fine quality, and made a slight cut in Salster's skin. Salster winced, but quickly passed off the wound. He charged forward and rammed the Morrim soldier to the ground, only to be tripped up himself by the chaos of a battle behind him. Now both on the ground, Salster and his opponent struggled to be the first to stand. The Morrim soldier succeeded, and was just about to raise his sword when an Ashokan cavalry ran by and impaled him with a lance. Salster watched, and couldn't help but smirk, as the now-corpse of his former opponent was taken out of view by the cavalry. Having found a break in the action, Salster looked about him again. Battles were raging in all parts of the kingdom, but Salster could not tell if the palace had already been breached. He ignored the thought and began deciding which fight to join in next. As he did so, a thought crossed his mind. "How are we to defeat their leader?" |
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| Andromalius | Jul 27 2009, 01:22 PM Post #3 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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"Send our sorcerers in with the areal team, attack from above," the transformed Emperor stepped around his mount, the horse now dwarfed beside his mass. A clawed hand covered in ether steel ripped a black pole from the saddlebag, drawing it down to his side before the pole itself began to extend until the Dread Lance emerged from dormancy with a metal hiss. "Have them scout along the battle and send word back for any exceptional opponents. I won't have my men meaninglessly slaughtered just because they fail to understand tactics." "Understood, Your Highness. The Rocs are already standing by." The messenger kicked at the ride beneath him and sped back in the direction he had come to relay the command. Meanwhile, Andromalius began to catch up on the action, taking an assailant head-on with his sword charging. Lance in one hand, he spun to dodge, and as he came to a full three-hundred and sixty degrees, he caught the bicep of the arm in which the soldier's sword was held, and snapped it like a twig. The limb fell, torn from its socket, and the blade hit the stone ground with a clatter. Before the body could fall, or even cry out in pain, the mage's unarmed hand switched to dig into the top of his head, spinning it around with a pop as his spine was severed. It all happened so fast, within a second, and seemed so effortless. As he moved on through the war, he began to plow right through anyone who had the nerve to stand within feet, or even yards as charge after black light charge boomed from the mage's palms. He was making his way closer and closer towards the palace, clearing a direct path to it that filled with Morrim soldiers. His men were not without a reason to fight. Many had come from Soare's various prisons: thieves, murderers, and rapists who enjoyed the act of bloodshed. They'd merely been given armor and set loose. Some had joined because they had been promised things, all lies of course, food for their families, shelter, medical treatment, life. Some had no other choice, as they would be dishonored for absence without official leave, and their lives would be ruined for it. Some were fighting for their life, in many ways, as the lives of them and their loved ones had been threatened. There wasn't a man under the mage's control that would be easily defeated without giving every blow, every block, all that they had within them. Fire began to rain from the sky as the areal forces took to flight, sorcerers on the backs of giant Eagles. Smaller birds of prey dotted the burning canopy, sending messages back and forth. It was all a very organized orchestration. No resources went to waste, nor did any time. He wanted Ashoka, and he wanted it now, and nothing would be able to stop him. "Get that bastard Orion in here now!" the Emperor's head whipped back behind his shoulder, calling to the following armored mass. A squad split apart to carry out the next command. The palace doors were in sight. When he turned back to bore his burning violet eyes into the structure, a Falcon landed on his shoulder, the marks made by its talons healing back up immediately as he took the paper from its feet and opened to read it. An enemy soldier was making more trouble than it was worth, it seemed, and he was the closest offensive force to his location. --- After a fun five minutes of skewering Ashokan soldiers on the blade of his lance, Andromalius reached his destination, hovering within the shadows of a burning building on the brink of collapse. A man with a shield that shot flames was making a mess of his men. Hopefully this will last longer than a second, as all that had faced him yet have disappointed. He watched in amusement as the fighter went down, his opponent stabbed and carried off. How are we to defeat their leader, he'd questioned, almost inaudible as he stood beside a raging inferno. "You don't." At last, the monster emerged, like a mirage, his cloak of snakeskin billowing back behind him. As he did, he was charged from behind, but easily reconciled the situation with a flick of his lance, spraying blood across the surroundings. His hand rose, the palm directed towards the fighter, as a red glow engulfed it. The pain spell was cast, inevitably lighting the adversary's nerve endings up like fireworks before the red turned to violet and a blast of light shot through the air. He would either have to be supernaturally fast, faster than a beam of light, or have to endure the pain of a car crash at ninety miles per hour. |
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| Salster | Jul 27 2009, 02:21 PM Post #4 |
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Salster turned to see the abomination that was the opposing leader. Before Salster even had time to react, he saw the creature's hand glow, and recognized it as some sort of spell. "N-" Salster was cut short by a burst typhoon of pain ripping from within him. He had brought his shield up in hopes of the enchantment deflecting some of the power of the spell, but was still sent flying through ranks of both Ashokan and Morrim soldiers. Luckily, their bodies impeded the speed of his flight, and he didn't end up carving himself against the ground. However, he was still in horrendous pain, and was unable to get up from the ground. His vision was blurring, but he hadn't blacked out just yet. Soldiers from both sides looked from him to the leader for a moment in pure awe, but the fighting quickly resumed around the bodies. They assumed Salster was already dead. The fire raining from the sky did not give them time to double-check such things. Now surrounded by soldiers in combat, Salster just hoped that his bones weren't broken. He was in too much general pain to know if it was still resonance from the spell or actual broken limbs. Either way, he knew he was in trouble unless the Morrim monster thought he was dead. The pain eventually began to subside, though it was still grueling to even attempt to move, and Salster knew his shield had probably saved his life. Salster tried to stand up, but couldn't even rise enough to convince the soldiers around him that he wasn't dead. He took a few moments to catch his breath, the pain getting slightly less with each breath, and tried again. This time, he managed to get up a bit, but the bodies that had broken his fall were not completely stable, and he ended up falling because of it. "Stand and fight!" An Ashokan soldier who had just cleaved off the head of a Morrim one grabbed Salster's arm and lifted him up. Salster grimaced and doubled over when he did so, but was now standing. He could still fight. Except that he couldn't. He stood no chance against the creature he had seen. He had no means of matching power like that, and another blow like before would completely decimate him. He was surrounded by soldiers of both sides, fire still raining from above, and he knew he couldn't fight his way through the Morrim soldiers. Though he was in pain, and was tired, his magical energy was still relatively fresh, and it was his only chance of surviving. "Out of my way!" Salster roared, getting the attention of a group of Morrim soldiers. Momentarily stopped, the soldiers were easy prey for Salster's next move. He sent forth both arms, ignoring the weapon and shield held by them, and released a blast of Hellfire at the rank of soldiers. There were a few screams, but they could barely be heard over the crash of the chaos around him. Salster took advantage of the soldier's pain and shoved his way through them, some being cut down by nearby Ashokans. When he made his way to a clearer part of the kingdom, Salster looked about him and knew the battle was lost. The dark creature that had nearly killed him was beyond any power Salster had ever faced, rivaling perhaps even his Lord, if not surpassing it. This war could be won by that being alone. Despite how much it pained him, Salster turned to flee. There was no point continuing the fight, Ashoka was beyond a shadow of a doubt going to lose the battle. Salster, now, had to find a way to escape with his life. However, that menace was not exactly far from the entrance, and the whole city was surrounded anyway. Salster had nowhere to go. He decided his best bet, since there was no hope for getting out of the city without being faced with that creature again, was to retreat to the palace. Salster had spent enough time among mortals to know that there was at least a small chance of an escape route from the city somewhere in the palace. He couldn't be sure, but it was all he could hope for. The palace's top was aflame, and the building would most likely collapse at some point, but he stood more of a chance inside that building than out here where the enemy's commander might find him again. Avoiding any other fighting, Salster ran to the palace doors, broken open, and went inside. There were, of course, soldiers here as well, but they were all busy fighting each other to notice one more enter the mix. Salster avoided any fighting as he began his search for a loose stone, movable pillar, candle-switch, or any of the other things told of as rumors and stories by mortals of palace-escape-routes. He only hoped he could survive long enough to find it, if it even existed.. |
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| Sphynx | Jul 27 2009, 04:20 PM Post #5 |
All-Knowing Mod of Elly
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This was the moment that she had been waiting for; the battle had begun. Sphynx had ridden along with the army as they had travelled to Ashoka, popping up here or there, but never straying too far from the front. She had managed to heal her wounds just before leaving the tower and was now feeling better than she had in days. Spending time in Andromalius’ library had even taught her a few new tricks, and she couldn’t wait to show them off. They had finally reached their destination, and Sphynx watched as the first volley of arrows made their way toward the city walls. The necromancer bided her time, leading her horse at a leisurely pace past the broken city gates, following behind the first wave of soldiers. Her eyes roved around the city, watching small skirmishes here and there as the two armies met. So far everything seemed to be going well for their side, though she had not really doubted that they wouldn’t win. Upon the banshee’s call, Sphynx led her horse forward and dismounted at his side as he began to change form. Finally was her chance for a little fun. “It would be my pleasure.” With a bow to Andromalius, she left his side and began to do her thing. Further down the main road, the Ashokan army had created a roadblock of sorts by setting up tables, benches, rocks; anything solid enough to block the way. Ashokan soldiers huddled from behind the makeshift wall and kept up a continuous volley of arrows at their own soldiers, who were trying unsuccessfully to fight back. “This simply won’t do.” A frown fell over Sphynx’s lips, though her eyes held a mischievous sparkle to them. After taking a split second to set up a shield which would deflect their arrows, she moved down the path as both of her hands became shrouded in darkness. The men from Morrim parted their ranks to let her pass, creating a space just wide enough for her to walk down. Her steps took her to within five yards of the block, arrows bouncing off of the shield and dropping harmlessly to the ground. She couldn’t help the smirk from spreading across her face as her hands rose up into the air, the darkness solidifying into spheres before shooting, like beams towards the barrier blocking the path. The barrier was blasted apart as the darkness cut the wooden tables to splinters and decimated the rocks to rubble. A few of the opposing soldiers got in the way as well, the dark beams hitting with enough force to break their bones, dropping them to the ground in pain. Sphynx’s lips twitched at hearing the satisfying crack of broken bones as it rang through the air, seemingly louder than anything else. Many of the remaining soldiers scattered as the barrier was demolished, though a few brave, or perhaps foolish, souls stepped forward to prevent passage towards the castle. “Oh, so you lot want to play, do you?” She would have to use something special for the brave few who wanted to face her. With a wave of her hand several Ashokan soldiers who already lay slain upon the battle field twitched and rose to their feet once more, some with blood still draining from their sword wounds, others with arrows sticking out of their bodies. These undead soldiers created a line in front of her and faced off with their living comrades. The eyes of the living soldiers widened to see their dead companions once again rise to their feet and now face off with them. The undead weren’t quite as strong as the living, but they outnumbered the living and those that didn’t fall to their blades ran in fear and retreat. With only a handful of the undead soldiers still in one piece, she nodded at her work that had just opened the most direct path to the castle, and the King residing within its walls. “I think we should go this way.” She turned back to Andromalius, motioning towards the now open path and grinning quite evilly. Apparently he had just finished fighting some other idiot who thought that he could deal with the banshee, when she could have told the man that he didn’t even stand a chance. |
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| Forgotten | Jul 27 2009, 04:49 PM Post #6 |
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So much blood, so much death, it was all...so wrong. The tides of evil she had sensed in Morrim, had come to this place in force. The angel had prayed for days, fasting and not resting, that this place might be spared, that the tides of evil might be turned; but in the end she knew, this duty, to help against the tide of death and pain, would fall upon her shoulders. The sun set, and she stood by the oasis at the heart of the city, at the first cries of the attack, tears rolled down her gaunt cheeks. The nameless one had been without voice in this city. She had tried to warn some; but aside from a few grateful peasants, no one had believed that such a thing would happen. They thought her mad, or foolish. No one believed the sickly looking woman as she spoke of a great darkness approaching this city. The arrows began to fall around the insides of the walls, while guards rushed about in confusion and chaos she would call to those seeming to be bewildered and heading for the wrong directions, telling them the walls were under attack. After the third time she had been shoved aside into a ditch or wall, the angel had known she would be unable to help this way. The light had to have a purpose for calling her here, there had to be someone she could help. And that was when she saw them. The peasants, the children the civilians caught by arrows or surrounded in the fray. She acted as best she could. It had long been heard shouted by the guards, that this entire city was surrounded. The only hope these poor people had would be to fall back as far as they could, and surrender within the palace, if this evil was not stopped. It was a slim hope but all they had. She walked the streets and held the innocent close to her as they could shouting to others to make their way towards the castle. She could feel the evil growing closer and stronger behind her; but now was not the time to show fear to those who she represented the only sign of hope to. In all the chaos of this battle, there was an odd site that occurred; but was completely missed. The hooded woman and those that stayed close to her would walk through the streets, without weapons or armor, and go on completely unharmed despite what transpired around them. The angle’s aura was her only means of aid that would not expire with it’s use and so she was calling on it as best she could. The passive vibes of calm and peace was enough to soothe those that walked with her to keep them from screaming in fear, and it was enough that as long as she nor those she escorted, wore armor or lifted a weapon, the fighters would seem them as no threat and something to ignore until a later time where they could be easily handled. She made three voyages into the city brining back sick, elderly, women, children, and wounded. However on the third pass, the fighting had made it too far in. There was too much going on for her to venture out for more, for the evil abominations she saw were in the walls, and surely her presence would only draw them towards the innocent she tried to protect. The gates closed and inside, as civilians scattered in the palace, past the guards, seeking places to hide, or legendary escape routes, she faced the door and let the tears flow down her cheeks. Not in fear, but in sorrow for those lost and hopeless souls beyond the palace. Every fiber of her being wished to go and protect them. Soon enough, she would be needed here. The enemy forces breeched the doors, and she was shoved back by the guards all around. The fight commenced and the evil soldiers made it within some ways before the guards inside started being able to hold their ground, as this force seemed to have only been a small group that managed to make it this far. The angel did not intervene, she wanted to; but could feel in her heart that it was not the time for her to act just yet. Her heart was broken as she stood higher on the steps inside looking through the shattered entrance doors. Outside, she could see the dead, the wounded, and the disgusting evil as it marched on this place. Fire rained from the sky and shook the earth but the palace still stood for now. Her gray eyes caught sight of the dark one that seemed to be fighting against the greater evil. Light, bless him, give him strength beyond what he has ever known, as long as he fights against the darkness, support him in this just and noble act. No sooner had she asked this prayer, then the dark warrior burst fire on his enemies and bolted away from the evil he had been facing. She was broken, shattered, she wanted to scream to this demon that his fleeing was ending the one selfless act he had probably ever committed, that to die trying to save the innocent would be better than to flee for his own sake. However, she did not. She knew to pass such judgment would be wrong. It was still possible he might fall back and protect the interior of the palace, it was possible he might flee and warn other cities of the evil he faced this day so that they might have a greater chance of stopping it, and even if he was simply a coward seeing himself above others, anger would solve nothing. He was an agent of the darkness, she was an angel, she was not to determine others place, only to know her own and follow it in faith. Light, forgive the sins of this day, protect your faithful, have mercy on the lost, and guide my every action. For I know, even in the face of death, the light is with me. She thought this silent prayer and then moved past the hellspawn as it scrambled about searching like the peasants for a way to flee. The guards had their hands full with other warriors and she could see in the distance as the path was cleared to head straight for this palace. The innocent needed more time, this charge could not go unopposed. Walking past the guards and their enemies, she moved onto the front steps of the palace, a few steps outside of the shattered doors. She felt peace wash over her and knew, this was what she needed to do. “Merciful light, please give me the strength to do as you ask of me. For I know without the light there is no hope. If it be your will, let me turn aside this evil, if it be your will, let me die trying. All I ask is that I am given the strength and knowledge to do as you ask of me. Blessed light, give me peace.” with her murmured prayer she lowered her hands to her sides. A single tear trickled from her grey eye, down her pale cheek. The wind blew the hood from her head to reveal the full effect of what a humbled and pitieous creature she seemed to be; but her angelic aura was spread out at its fullest. There would be no mistaking what it was that stood upon these steps to challenge the evil that advanced. At her sides, her hands held to her two wind and fire wheels. They glinted in the light of distant fires and she stood waiting, ready for whatever might come her way. Her cold grey gaze looking towards the abomination that seemed to lead this charge, and the mistress of the dead nearby him. On her own power, she knew she was no match for either; but she was not afraid. By her faith, if the light was willing, she could be granted the strength to do anything. |
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| Salster | Jul 27 2009, 05:26 PM Post #7 |
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Salster was being followed by several civilians as he made his way through the West Wing of the bottom floor of the palace. Being one of the only people fleeing who was at all battle-capable, the other fleeing civilians looked to him for protection. As rarely as it was needed, he provided it, parrying a Morrim soldier's sword or blasting them away with hellfire. He reached the only area left of the West Wing that he had not searched. He and the civilians rummaged around looking for anything that might activate some sort of passage. Unfortunately, there was no such luck as to find any. With that, Salster had to double back to the Main Hall, and the civilians following him moaned in exasperation and worry over their lives. As Salster neared the Hall, though, he felt a powerful force. It was not dark and horrible like the commander's energy, though. It was light and good . . . Salster mustered as much strength as he could to pick up the pace, and soon reached the Main Hall. What he saw there astonished him. What was obviously an angel, as he had met their kind before, stood at the doorway, an aura about her. He felt an enormous pang of guilt and shame. There stood a woman, not even fully armored, where he had fled. He felt an anger inside him that had not swelled for quite some time. He Rushed forward, motioning the civilians towards the East Wing, and took stance beside her. "You've inspired me, angel. I . . . was a fool to flee," Salster said, trying to cover up his own moment of fear. He did not consider it cowardice, there was much more he could alive than dead, and the commander of Morrim's forces was far too strong for him, but he did not have to run. He could stand and fight until there truly was no option left. Salster brought up his sword and shield. "With the Hell Lord's blessing, do not let me fall. I have too much yet to do," Salster whispered, and then slammed his sword against his shield in traditional warrior style. He didn't intend on dying today, but he would still maintain his honor, even in the face of the monstrosity that commanded Morrim. "Ashoka will fall, you know. We cannot save it . . ." Salster said quietly to the angel, saddened by the inevitable truth. "So we cannot afford to die, understand? We will be needed for a retaliation. We cannot sacrifice our lives here," he affirmed, and braced himself as the charge neared. |
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| Orion de Lacey | Jul 27 2009, 09:10 PM Post #8 |
Governor of Ashoka
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"My lord?" "I said no, didn't I? He can wait; he'll live." "My lord..." The guard stood dumbstruck, wringing his hands, his weapon sheathed. He had been sent by Andromalius, to collect the one known as 'Orion', and he had found him alright, judging by his lax attitude and disinterest in the entire ordeal that was taking place around him. Of course, why should he care? As soon as the King was slain the young man would ascend as the new Governor of Ashoka, following only Andromalius' orders, beyond that doing whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased. The thought would have been scary, had the guard known the fighter better. "Please, my lord. Grand Master Andromalius will-" "Not suffer if I finish what I'm doing. D'ya mind buggering off for a minute? I'm busy." When the fighting had begun, Orion, as per the agreement, had been in Ashoka, patiently waiting for the army that was to arrive from Morrim. The moment the arrows had flown, he had known that the battle was on. It had only been a matter of time before the gates to the city had been rendered useless and the army, with a flourish, had stormed in. Even from here, several streets away, the fighter could hear the raucous noise of weapons clanging against each other, people screaming and shouting, living and dying, fleeing and fighting, always on the move. At first he had relished the sound of the noise, until an Ashokan squad had appeared around the corner, armed and terrified. Had they known what was to become of them, they probably would have bolted the other way, or out of the city entirely. Of course, the punishment they had received for crossing the psychopath's path was far better than that of his newly acquired overlord's, but it was still a terrible fate. Several men had already fled - far more than he would have liked - and the remainder lay dead, save one. It was this one that Orion had straddled between his legs, scythen abandoned nearby. The soldier's back was arched awkwardly, a sandbag that might have been used as part of a barrier beneath his back. He whimpered and sobbed as Orion hovered over him, the chain that was normally around his waist being used as an effective whip. Rather than stirke the man's body, he had chosen his face. The chains struk him at random, leaving ugly welts along his face; one eye bled profusely and appeared to have been completely crushed. The soldier could hardly keep it closed. Finally, to shut the annoying and constantly fidgeting Morrim man, Orion killed the guard, strangling him with the chain before, for no real reason at all, snapping his neck. It wasn't as if he hadn't already snapped the man's other limbs, as well, to keep him from running, and it only seemed appropriate to finish the job off. Dusting his hands as if he'd been working in mud all day, he sauntered over to the waiting man after he'd wrapped the chain around his right forearm and retrieved his scythe. The man, looking extremely relieved that his charge had decided to finally obey, led the way, glancing back every now and again to ensure that he was following and not becoming distracted by all of the commotion and chaos around them. He was quite the lucky man - Orion followed, only straying a few times, and not far enough to be a cause for worry. Arriving on the main scene, which was quickly making its way towards the looming palace, Orion darted by the soldier, into the centre of the fray where a woman and Andromalius were; he assumed the former was the latter's lover. Grinning, he brushed by her, before his scythen came down on one of her reanimated minions. The corpse fell and, before anything could be done, it was hacked apart in a violent expression of the fighter's brutality. When he stood, there was only a mess of blood, bone, and brain matter on the ground, mixed with cloth and weaponry. Orion straightened and glanced back at the woman. "Oh sorry," he began, an expression of mock shock upon his face, "was that one of yours? I couldn't tell - it looked very much like an Ashokan." He smiled thinly at her, his eyes dropping from her face to the length of her body. His eyebrows rose as his eyes did, the latter coming to meet hers again. Every other moment, however, the psychopath's eyes dropped to her bust. "My, my, you have quite the uh... chest, if you know what I mean. Mind if I take a squeeze? Oh wait... I forgot. Hands off of the lady's man. I'll grab one some other time, when no one's around." He winked at her before he sauntered off, making his way towards the tank that was obviously Andromalius. He hadn't even given her a chance to really respond. "You called?" The psychopath, with a hop to his step, made his way to Andromalius, pausing beside him, scanning the way towards the palace. It was open, save for two standing in front of its main entrance, looking as if they would take on the army themselves. Orion couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose it's my turn now, isn't it? Well... I wouldn't want to disappoint. Allow me." Again, the one he was speaking to wasn't given an opportunity to say a word; Orion darted forward, the scythen rocking easily in his hands, both heads attacehed, both stained with blood. In fact, every inch of Orion was covered in it, matting his hair, painting his exposed midriff, caked and drying to his arms and to his legs. He looked sinister, crimson crawling up his face, dried to his one eye. His expression, which had gone from lustful to amiable as he'd made the transition from the woman to Andromalius, had become sinister, a deviously malicious grin upon his features. He marched towards the entrance; around him currents of air began to gather, feeding into his own natural wind. A gale was beginning, his body within the centre of the growing vortex. He paused a few paces away, the white-feathered head of his weapon swinging until it curved around the angel's neck. When he spoke, his voice came out in a snarl. "Get the hell out of my way unless you wish to join the ranks of the dead, to become minced flesh. Or do you want to die? Is that what you desire? I can give it, you know." He grinned. Not even hell could stop him from attaining the one thing he desired most now: to assassinate Moghul, King of Ashoka. Come Hell or High Water, Orion would do it. |
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| Andromalius | Jul 28 2009, 11:54 AM Post #9 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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When the bright light along his claws diminished, the monster gave a curious glance in the direction the victim had fallen, satisfied that he wasn't moving. Whether he was dead or just in shock, it was enough for him to lose his interest. He wouldn't be able to cut his men down now, at the very least, like he had been. This is how you take care of battles. Single out the strong ones, and obliterate them quickly. Andromalius turned, his cloak catching in the air with the sound of leather gliding against leather as he went to reclaim his position on his way to the palace. Within moments, he arrived just in time to see the Necromancer cast her charms, raising the fallen soldiers to tear apart their former allies. As always, whether in a fight or casual day-to-day activities, she was untouchable. The Banshee leaned his back against the charred ruins of a merchant's stall, taking pleasure in simply watching her work, making a mental note that this night's celebrations of victory would have to be spent in solitude with her. He folded his arms across his chest as he allowed his mind to wander while simultaneously watching the show. Could he call her his own now? One night of blind, frenzied passion hardly constitutes a stake of claim, but he was obviously getting to her, and unless he himself screwed this up, which he wouldn't, there would be nowhere to go but on. Did she know all of this? Did she think the same things? His assumptions were usually correct, but right now he would very much like a confirmation. How much was he breaking through her defenses? How long before he could really claim her? He'd have to ask her later... "I think you're right," his arms fell, a grin growing wide across his features with a few jagged teeth barely showing. She'd make quick work of everything, and when she was finished, he moved away from the vender's stall to join her at her side, the pair approaching the palace doors together as king and queen should. Just at the bottom of the steps now, his glowing violet eyes could make out what lay beyond the broken doors, more people running around in panic, and amidst them all, a glorious figure calmly striding their direction, summoning the power to face him and his allies. He looked on with subtle curiosity as she, alone, defied him, until she was joined by the man from before, the one he hadn't killed. His face met with the palm of his hand, awe-struck by the idiotic display these two were putting on. This was not the way to stop him. This wasn't even really a way to do anything but die, just a selfish act to make themselves feel better about their moral fiber. Ridiculous. If they really wanted to put an end to this, they should create a plan for escape, then attack him once they had a better plan. Regardless of how powerful someone is, they can always be toppled as long as the adversary is smart. These two ...were not doing the smart thing. They were doing something totally dumb and self-serving. Either way, it just made it easier for him. He could kill them now and eliminate the possible later threat. His clutch on the lance tightened, his free hand sliding away from his face. He took a wide-legged stance, raising the lance up, and just before its blood-stained tip found the direction of the face of the demon, a commotion behind him drew his attention. Oh, for Gods sake. Orion was fumbling with one of Sphynx's resurrected, and after destroying it, tossed her a stupid smile, saying something as he scoped out her goods. He was putting this guy in charge of Ashoka? Really? His face met with the palm of his hand again, and he rubbed it in exasperation. No matter. He'd take orders, and he was intelligent. That was what mattered. Though right now ...you wouldn't think it. Finally, at long last, Orion was at his side. Andromalius cast down to him a raised brow. "My protectiveness aside, she'd squash you like a bug. Now stop fooling around and get your head in thi--" Orion hadn't actually ever stopped walking, and that was about all that he could get out before realizing the man was not even listening. "Ehhh... He'll take some getting used to..." he turned his head to Sphynx. "Looks like you're faring pretty well... Let's finish this up." His lance lifted once more, pointed in Salster's direction. "Come and get some." |
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| Forgotten | Jul 29 2009, 02:56 PM Post #10 |
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Though she looked like a beggar, a pathetic individual by human standards, the invisible aura she gave off had told the demon, as well as her foes, what she really was. He returned, and though the gesture warmed her heart slightly to see courage and nobility like that inspired by herself, she knew really it was the light to thank for this. However, his words caused her to shake her head. "Oh ye of little faith... your doubt will only weaken your efforts here. Your intent is appreciated but it is better you do not stand here with me. For only the light will determine weather or not I will fall here today. If it is the will of light, my time will come, if not, by my faith I will be saved." She turned away from the distant foes for a moment. "I will stand and hold them off. You should fall back into the palace. It would be better for you to escape and take the innocent with you, than to fall here by my side. If you truly wish to help, do as I ask, save the innocents." The angel looked back towards the enemy and saw one new figure approaching. He felt closer to mortality than the other foes, but he was still clearly dangerous. His blade was behind her neck and he shouted his challenge. The nameless one stood still not backing away. Her solemn face showed no fear. She heard the challenge from the greater evil as he called to the dark one beside her. She hoped that he would not give in to the challenge and would do what she had asked of him. Someone needed to get the innocent out of there, and of the two of them, she had the better chance to fight the tide of evil. "I will not stand aside." She said flatly to her challenger. At the same moment one wheel was used to hook the blade at her neck and pull it back slightly while the other sliced at the chest of her foe. She did not pause in her movements to see if the strike landed; but instead flipped to the side to be farther out of the scythen's reach. The angel knew she had power of the light at her disposal; but knew the seals on her body limited her use of them. She would have to time them carefully. She could not go on the offensive yet. The other evils were too far away if she used all she had on this one foe, they would destroy her. Watching him closely she prepared for another strike. Ready to strike if he tried to pass her or counter again if he tried to strike. |
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| Salster | Jul 29 2009, 03:27 PM Post #11 |
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Salster's eyes widened beneath his helm at the angel's words, but he knew she had a point. When the warrior of the opposing team rushed at her, Salster was ready to fight him, but the angel ended up having it covered. At Andromalius' challenge, Salster glared. "Later, monster. You're not worth my time right now," Salster couldn't help but grin at his insult, and turned to follow the angel's orders. Of course, his actions were not motivated solely by the angel. He wasn't exactly all that confident of his success in another fight with the commander of the opposing army, and saving innocents was a more worthy cause anyway. Live to fight another day. With renewed vigor, Salster gathered as many civilians as he could and once again began searching for an exit from the palace and the city. "Hey, hey!" A man shouted from a floor above. Salster turned to face the man, and the civilians behind him stopped. "I think someone found something! At the top floor!" Salster met the glances of the civilians around him, and they all immediately rushed up the many flights of stairs in order to reach the top floor. That's when Salster remembered what he had seen before entering the palace. The top was aflame! If the fire hadn't gotten inside, it only meant that the roof was moments from collapsing. When he and those following him reached the top floor, though, part of the roof had already fallen in, and there was fire in multiple places. Salster could see numerous people behind a wall of flame. "There's a ladder here! It might be a way out!" one of the people shouted. Salster nodded, and the civilians around him were all chattering about with excitement. The problem was the fire. The flames were large and angry. Salster could easily get through, but the civilians . . . "There has to be a way through!" someone around Salster shouted. Salster stared at the fire, and noticed something. It was originating mainly from fallen planks, the stone floor of the room wasn't flame-conductive . . . "I might be able to help . . ." Salster rushed into the flames, the civilians gasping as he was unfazed by the heat, and grabbed one of the planks that had most likely once been a support beam of some sort. Salster moved the plank out of the way. Flames still lingered, but with the main source of the fire out of the way, there was more of a path. "Just go through! We have no other choice!" Salster shouted, and crossed back to the side with more civilians. One ran through, and cheers from the other side signaled his success. "Go!" Salster roared, and one by one the innocents ran through as the flames continued to spread further from where Salster had placed the plank. When there didn't seem to be any more civilians on his end, Salster was about to go down and look for more when more beams began to fall. The flames were spreading farther and farther from the original source as well, and Salster knew that there would soon be no means of other civilians crossing. He looked back and forth, and finally received an obvious sign. Morrim soldiers began charging up the stairs, blocking off Salster's means of getting through. And if they were charging like this, it meant most if not all of the Ashokan soldiers were dead, as well as any civilians. Salster cursed, and hoped that all the civilians in the palace had been in the large group that had amassed at the top floor, having all heard word of the exit. Salster looked from the flames to the Morrim soldiers and made his decision. He charged through the fires to the other side, and saw the hole and the ladder the civilian had been talking about. It seemed to have been hidden behind a drape and several loose stones, as a few were piled up beside the hole. Salster could see the other civilians still climbing down, and hoped the tunnel led underground and then to the nearby oasis. Or at least far away. Salster himself began climbing as the Morrim soldiers faced the roaring fires. Darkness took over as Salster and the others continued their descent. It seemed as if the ladder went on forever, and Salster was about to curse his luck when a civilian shouted, "Hey! there's another tunnel!" Salster assumed this meant that there was a bottom, and the tunnel extended outward. The descent lasted quite a bit longer before they all finally reached the bottom. "Alright, we need to move quickly. We don't have many supplies, so we need to get to the oasis or some city as soon as possible," Salster stated as he moved past the other civilians. He had already sheathed his sword and placed his shield in the holder on his back, but was too exhausted and weighed down to keep a running pace. Instead, he and the civilians made a quick marching pace out of it, and they were gaining ground. Salster still wondered, though, exactly where the exit of the tunnel would lead. |
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| Andromalius | Jul 29 2009, 07:20 PM Post #12 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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Ashokan forces were fleeing. All hope for the defenders was withering away along the currents of the mage's storm. Great bursts of lightning glowed throughout the city, spells cast from the hands of Kinaldi magicians. Morrim forces began to take posts in the streets in what would be presumably busier areas, as well as all along the outskirts, blocking the entrances and exits. Many were storming homes, simply searching for hiding enemies. A cavalier picked a doll up from the ground of a broken home, dusted it off, and personally handed it back to the little girl that it belonged to, telling her as he pat her head sweetly that he was a son about her age, and that maybe she'll get to meet him someday soon. Even in war, shades of gray blurred the lines of faction. Regardless of who they were trying to kill, they were all just men, and the one thing that has always held fast to humanity's reputation was that the light can shine the brightest in the dark. The Morrim forces were now ordering the city under the new control, attempting to find a place for civilians and assure them that everything was going to be alright, that Moghul was gone now and they might begin to have better lives after today. Andromalius, himself, ordered minimal civilian casualties. After all, what was a country worth ruling if everybody was dead? He didn't just stand there, doing nothing as the angel began to play with her lunatic opponent. The oily cogs in his mind were once more turning, once more dividing up all possible outcomes and how to most effectively reach the desired. To Salster's insult, he was hardly paying any attention. Unlike the demon's lie, feeling the need to make himself feel bigger before running away a second time, Andromalius really, truly didn't seem concerned, so the insult made no impact what-so-ever. "Sphynx, my dear, my Goddess..." he cooed, gradually shifting his eyes to the companion at his side as his weapon was lowered, collapsing in on itself as he no longer needed its aid. "Would you please neutralize this annoyance? Some kind of petrification would be preferable, like paralysis or if you have something that drains energy. Mine would kill her." The Banshee turned towards the steps and gradually ascended, taking his sweet time. "I want her alive..." As he said this, he was looking directly at her, and came to a stop standing at her side. A massive red, gloved hand with proportionately massive talons rose, boldly spreading over the angel's cheek in a delicate clutch, thumb grazing the soft skin just beneath her eye. "We didn't come for your head. We didn't come for the heads of the soldiers or the innocent bystanders. The head we came for is Moghul's. He's just as tyrannical as I am, and with less reason. Save your life and your energy for a greater battle, because it will be coming, and the light will be needing you... Orion." His empty violet eyes flashed towards his accomplice. "Get in there and kill him, now. You can have all the fun you want with Moghul and fool around with anyone else afterward. The country will be yours." A falling piece of debris from the roof as it had begun to collapse came down upon him, a charred plank no bigger than a large book. He carelessly swatted it away in mid-air with a backhand, the force of which drove it straight into the wooden wall of the vendor stand he had been leaning upon moments ago, shattering the structure. |
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| Sphynx | Aug 1 2009, 06:42 PM Post #13 |
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All-Knowing Mod of Elly
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Her minions formed a loose circle around her as they all made their way towards the steps of the castle. It was their job to continue chopping down the still living Ashokan soldiers that continued to defy them, and it was a job that they performed with the same joy and lust for blood that she herself felt. The remainder of the journey went smoothly, and only a couple more of the reanimated had fallen. They had fare a bit better than she had thought they would, but then there was the whole fear factor of attempting to fight off men who were once fighting with you, men who you had just seen die only moments before. The sight of the woman standing on the steps of the castle was enough to give them all pause. Sphynx couldn’t help the light breath of laughter that left her at the sudden appearance of this lone rebel. Did she really think that by herself she could stop them? Was she so foolish? Even if the angel was full of light, the darkness already had its claws tightly sunk into this city. Sphynx wanted to speak to the woman, to commend her efforts, and her stupidity. But without warning, one of her few remaining zombies dropped suddenly, a scythe cutting him in half. The necromancer blinked as the scythe moved again and again, further shredding her creation. Swear words were at the tip of her tongue as her mouth opened to violently chastise the man who had done this, but he beat her to the act of speaking. His first comment, and the sarcasm with which he spoke, further drew her fury, while his second left her completely speechless. Her gaze couldn’t help but look down at herself before snapping up to glare at the psycho once more. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Obviously he knew Andromalius though, as he acted as though they were old friends. She felt her eye twitch involuntarily as she watched the guy with the big scythe spring forward while ignoring anything that anybody tried to say to him. Yes, he would certainly take some getting used to; only she wasn’t sure that she wanted to spend enough time with him to get used to him. And did she hear that correctly; he was to be the new king of Ashoka? She turned to Andromalius with a forced smile, speaking with sarcasm through clenched teeth. “My Lord, I would never question your decisions, but where the hell did you find that guy?” She strode forward until she was level with him, though a more genuine, slightly teasing smile appeared on her face. “You are right about one thing though…I could squish him if I tried.” Her attention finally returned to the angel, her smile fading to a look of near boredom. The woman in white must be stupider than Sphynx originally thought, for not only did she refuse to back down, but now she was also attempting to fight the psycho back. Sphynx sighed; already she was tired of having to deal with this lone creature. The other who had momentarily stood at her side had now gone, taken charge of a group of frightened citizens in search of safety. And now all that was left was the single, lone woman looking lost. She almost felt sorry for her, but not quite. So when she was given her newest assignment to cripple the last person standing in their way, she could not stop the curl at the corner of her mouth. Of course she had her ways, but whether or not she could hold back before death had yet to be seen. “Are you sure you don’t want her dead? Well…I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.” She used a two step attack, calling forth the darkness and sending it slowly towards the angel. At Andromalius’ request, she didn’t send enough that would intend to injure her, but the void could cause depression and despair. At the same time she began to focus on draining the energy from the life of the angel, a move that typically caused excruciating pain while at the same time weakened the foe. If the angel could not break the spell, it would continue to drain her strength until she passed out. All collected energy was split between herself and Andromalius, though neither was injured enough to really need it. At that point Sphynx would have to remember to cut it off before killing her. Using both spells together was draining, but not nearly as much as it would have been if she were aiming to kill. Besides, things were more interesting this way. |
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| Orion de Lacey | Aug 3 2009, 10:25 PM Post #14 |
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Governor of Ashoka
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((Moghul will be assassinated next post, just to let ya'll know. Gives people a chance to react to one another and all that jazz before the deed is done.)) Like a prowling beast Orion moved forward, his eyes never leaving her, wicked laughter renting the air as she spoke. "Will not stand aside?" he shouted, the muscles in his arms tensing as the chains jingled on his arm, desperate to be struck, desperate to parry an attack that would have potentially harmed him. "Will. Not. Stand. Aside. Really now? Because I think you will, when one half of your body is falling one way, the other the other way. Does that please you, angel? Because being up to my neck in your blood would do nothing more than please me." As Orion's soul tipped towards the darkness, his alignment shifted and, with it, a sudden surge of air in an otherwise breezeless city took to circumnavigating his body. Wind roared around him, becoming a gale, devouring the sand, small debris, and anything light enough to be taken into its being. Like a dust storm the wind swirled around him, allowing only glimpses of his face which was often obscured by hair, but a face contorted into a malicious smile hellbent on destroying her. Oh, he would enjoy this. The double-headed scythe rose, gleaming malevolently in the light, as the air surrounding him extended outward to wrap around the poor, outnumbered and underpowered woman. And then, as it seemed on the verge of coming down in the hopes of hacking her frail form apart, it paused, a voice cutting through Orion's hungering thoughts. The fighter wheeled around, staring at Andromalius, his face twisting to reveal an expression crossed between anger and glee - anger for losing a kill to the woman whose pet he'd happily minced, glee because his new target was a target he'd been itching to kill since he and his 'overlord' had had the discussion. Finally, the psychopath's visage expressed devilish greed and fiendish lust and he turned away from his target, leaving it to the woman, no longer interested in it. The wind around his body, by his conscious command, lost much of its vigour, rocks and all sorts of objects clattering to the ground around him. Under normal circumstances he would have argued with the one ordering him around, but Orion knew better than to press Andromalius' buttons. Especially now, given the rather... interesting... appearance he had settled on. With only a grin plastered upon his face and a brief nod, he was gone suddenly, vanishing into the palace where the woman's friend had fled. Chaos and disorder met him, but it wasn't anything he wasn't already used to. Ignoring the screams of terrified women and the shouts of frustrated men, he passed by civilians, his mind intent on the kill. He moved quickly, knowing that it would be a waste of time to climb to the higher floors of the palace. If a man had been asked to evacuate, it made little sense that he should stay on any floor higher than the second, for it wasn't entirely feasible to jump out of a window three stories high, especially not with flames breaching parts of the palace. With this in mind and with Morrimian soldiers running hither and thither while Ashokan ones fell, doors were thrown open and abandoned by his hand; he moved quickly, taking only a brief glimpse into each room he passed, knowing that the man he sought was one larger in stature than most, tall, and battleworn. And that very man, as he continued his hunt, happened to vanish down a corridor as the fighter's head whipped around the door. With a grin unparalleled by most for its demonic and otherwise terrifying appearance, he followed. Orion's mismatched eyes were wide and innocent, his scythen swinging in his hands like a pendulum signifying death. "Moghul! I've come to have a word with you. Well... rather... My scythen and I have. You see... We have a desire, and we would like to express this desire, a desire so beautiful and so all-encompassing that it must be satiated. And that desire, dear Moghul is to kill... You." |
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| Forgotten | Aug 6 2009, 11:10 PM Post #15 |
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The angel stared down her enemy when he began to move her way. The wind spiraled around him and she prepared for his vicious strike when the voice of the greater dark one reached her ears as well as his. She was forced to make a decision now, move to intercept this warrior to save the dark mohgul king...or not pursuing him so as to try to stop this greater evil. Truly, she had no choice for she knew that it would take all her faith, and all the power she could muster, to fight against just the evil alone. This was a chance to cut the head off the serpent before it could spread farther, she had to do all she could. The angel stood her ground, knowing to bide her time before she struck. The dark thing placed a hand upon her and her skin crawled. She despised this beast, knowing it stood for nothing but darkness. It was everything she stood against, it had caused all those people such pain, loss, and suffering. If she were her former self... he would have been unable to lay a hand upon her. The nameless angel had cast aside all fear. She showed no reaction even as the dark one displayed their power by smashing the burning wreckage that had threatened to crush them both. Instead she took the momentary diversion as a chance to strike. Against any other foe, she might have tried to say something sweeping and dramatic. However in this time, she felt the only words she should waste her breath on was to voice the prayer running in her mind. "Light, be with me as I strike at my foe. Help me to oppose this darkness before it's foul deeds cause more suffering. If it be your will... use me" As she said these words, her eyes turned white and seemed to emanate pure light. He had been so close to her, and looking upon her face, and the blot from the heavens moved so quickly and appeared from directly above, it was doubtful that this foul evil would be able to avoid it, though how much damage her weaker power could call, was unclear. She had the faith to move mountains, and this was her hour of need; but that did not stop the wrongly placed seals from resisting her efforts. The white bolt from heavens struck as it had been called at the end of her prayer, and the metal band then appeared over her eyes blocking her vision. This did not stop the angel's momentum. She leaped backwards, up the stairs, her foot slipped on some rubble and she landed on her knees; but still blocked the doorway. As soon as she landed, there was the sound of six metal nails striking the ground before they vanished into nothing. However, by the time those nails hit, the tremendous tendrils of light erupted from her back, the eerie blue light that weaved between them forming the shape of her wings and they bend inwards creating a cocoon to defend her from any evil magic or attacks that might head her way as a result of her actions. She was in the doorway, obscuring anyone else's way into the building as well. Light, continue to guide me through this, help me to face my enemy. She prayed in her mind as she knew she would soon be undefended and facing foes both blind and now her legs bound by chains. |
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| Andromalius | Aug 7 2009, 09:58 PM Post #16 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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He was pleased to be met with little resistance when giving Orion the strict order of carrying out his mission. He was obedient, as long as there was a good reason, and while the nut's loyalty was not made of stone, the secret logic that his mind worked along the lines of reassured the mage that his decision was a good one. Not to mention, this place would go to shite at an exponential rate with him directing it. So, his attention was on the fighter as he turned and vanished within the palace walls. Though, at hearing the end of her prayer, he could recognize what was about to happen. He'd encountered many holy spells that often called for begging, pleading with whoever it was that gave power. Pathetic. Yet, even if he knew, there wasn't enough time to step out of the way. Perhaps if he'd seen which direction it was coming from, it would be different, and his new transformation spell came with a few handy amplifiers, speed being one of them. No, the bolt of light made a direct connection, engulfing him in shock waves of great discomfort, something between burning and hundreds of volts of electricity vibrating off his bones. The tail behind him lashed wildly, muscles tensed, the shards of white ice on the top of his head rising to stand straight up until the effect began to wear off. It was obvious he'd been wounded, but he had made no sounds of pain, standing there, staring quite angrily at where the angel had run off to fall. Pain was something he could deal with just fine. It was an insignificant person who didn't know when to move to save their life that he hated. "...I suppose..." he winced, taking a step to turn in the direction of the heavenly creature with a bit of displeasure, one glowing eye shut tight while the other was wide and wild with a fury that his willpower diligently restrained, "...you're feeling quite proud of yourself right now. I'm so happy for you." The tail snapped like a whip in the air. "What you just did saved no one. It was a self-servicing act, at the very most, and I'm going to show you just how not worth my time you are." His voice was like gravel, dripping a dangerous venom. Each word was pronounced meticulously and said slowly, making sure she could hear every syllable perfectly. When he was finished, the Banshee turned, stepping back down the stairs. She really should not have done that, no matter how 'right' she'd felt about it. He saw it for what it was, a last-ditch effort, but in the end, his nights with Sphynx were far more painful than that little barbecue. Speaking of the foxy dark sorceress... As he approached her where she stood elegantly amidst the carnage of war, smoke was rising from his shoulders. He still didn't look that happy, but at the same time, he could be very good at leashing his impulses when he wished to. There was a good reason he wasn't just striking the angel down himself here. Besides the vapors rolling off of him from the charge he'd been hit by, his cloak and pants were charred. A few breaks in his skin were noticeable, but they were healing quickly by the second, and soon would be completely gone. "Have as much fun with her as you like, my dear," Andromalius slowed to a hault. "Same as before, don't kill her completely. After that little display, Death would be too light of a punishment. I have something better in mind for the little birdie." Standing before her, another urge was rising. As he laid his wishes out for her, by the time the last few words were spoken, all attention was on his Queen. A massive, clawed hand dove around her waist, yanking her forward for her lips to be crushed savagely by his own. It lasted but a split second, a small moment of raw passion, but it would be an event that any onlookers would never be able to wipe clean from their mind. He tasted hot and dirty, the holy magic in his system leaving his mouth to burn any dark thing it touched. "You're so beautiful, I can't restrain myself..." his mouth grew into a wicked smirk before he moved around her and started off to wrap this whole thing up. He needed to stabilize the surrounding area under its new control and figure out what to do with this burning city and its people. |
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| Sphynx | Aug 7 2009, 10:42 PM Post #17 |
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All-Knowing Mod of Elly
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Sphynx barely registered Orion’s sudden disinterest in the angel at the steps as he stalked off to find the owner of the castle in front of them. Well now all they had to do was hold the angel off for long enough for the king to be killed, and then their job would be done. Ashoka would have a new king whether this petty little child wanted to attempt to stand in their way or not. She had chosen the wrong people to tangle with. Sphynx actually began to inspect her cuticles to stray blood spatter as her spells moved forward, closing in on the child. But the sudden bolt of light startled her, not so much that it had suddenly appeared from the sky, but that it had actually hit its target. Her jaw clenched as her gaze flickered from her fearless leader towards the angel and back. She suddenly hated the woman at the steps as the angel surrounded herself with her winged shield to the unmistakable sound of metal smashing into the stone of the stairs. She wanted to strike down that so called ‘holy being’ where she had fallen in a heap on the stairs, and she could do it too, if given the chance. She would rip that little bitch into tiny pieces with her bare hands for what she had just done. But then he was walking towards her, still smoking from the shock. Sphynx knew better than to ask him if he was alright; of course he was. It would take more than a little bit of lightning to kill him. And that was all that was; a little show of little power. Though she had hoped that the impressive light show would change his mind about being able to kill her, she was sadly mistaken. His orders remained the same as before, though now she was even more than pleased to carry them out. Before she even had a chance to turn her mind back to the angel she was in his arms, surprised by an attack that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. She fell into his arms for the briefest of moments, returning the kiss with as much energy as had just been shot from the sky. His lips burned hers with the aftereffects of heavenly blow, but to her it felt more like a tingle than actual pain. Her breath came in a gasp as he pulled away from her, just as suddenly as he had begun the kiss. She had no words for him here, now, but she certainly would later. Some of them might even be kind. Now all her attention was on the scourge at the gates. “Why can’t you just succumb to pain like a normal person? Is that so hard?” She was pissed. How dare this angel attempt to block her attack with a petty winged shield. The entire contraption would be shattered in a matter of seconds now that the angel had forced her hand. Dropping her hold on the darkness completely, she focused all of her attention now on strengthening the power which would drain the woman of her strength. Her power assaulted the barrier over and over again, now at almost full force. She didn’t dare go any stronger, simply because if the shield did suddenly drop, the sheer amount of pain felt would likely kill the angel before Sphynx would have a chance to stop it. Andromalius had now repeatedly asked for her to remain living, after all, though she wasn’t sure that was entirely necessary herself. “You can’t keep that up forever, dearie.” The shield had to be cracking what with the amount of force she was barraging at it. It was draining her energy too, but Sphynx guessed that she was much more apt at using her powers than the angel was, if a simple trick of lightning brought her to her knees. |
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| Forgotten | Aug 12 2009, 02:18 PM Post #18 |
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The angel could only hear what was going on now. Her nose informed her of the burned body of her enemy, but his voice was enough to let her know her strike had not been enough. The angel’s eyes obscured by the metal band that sealed her, and her legs chained together, there was no where for her to go and nothing for her to do but wait for her shield to fall. The sudden rise in the feeling of encroaching darkness informed her that not even her shield would last as long as it should. Her wings were being assaulted by a dark force and the little angelic power this human guise could sustain was being drained rapidly. The angel knew that danger was on the rise, and that her options were running out. She could fight blind, to some extent; but the power that was draining her wings, would soon be upon her. With her legs shackled, it would only make things harder. Still, she had not been defeated yet. The light was with her and if she was to slay these creatures on this day, it would find a way to allow her to do this. “Blessed light, that which gives life and guides us, please show me what I must do. Use me however is needed. If I should strike, or if I should fall, let it be according to the will of the light. Let it be for the greater good.” her feeble prayer finished at the same moment that the weight of crushing darkness crashed upon her, her wings having faded and the nails stabbed themselves into her back once more. The angel felt as if something was sucking her very soul from her body, all strength fading fast she tried to rise from her knees but fell forward onto he hands instead. Still, a feeling deep within her called to her, told her not to give up, and gave her strength. With all her will, with all her hope and faith she trusted in that little feeling, that glimmer of strength, knowing it to be the quite urgings of the light. She staggered up from her knees hunched and trembling with the strain to lift her body up despite how week she felt. Trembling arms shook like a twig in a windstorm as she raised her wind and fire wheels towards the direction of the dark one. “Dark one…. I will stand against you with all I have!” The angel staggered forwards, in what was a combination of leaping, falling, and throwing herself down the stairs, she sailed through the air. Light, give me strength. Suddenly, the whole world seemed to slow, a great warmth rose from within her and seemed to fill her entire being with a second wind. Energy like she had not know for thousands of years welled up within her and the power of her holy aura could be felt by all as it grew stronger. The band fell from her eyes but still she could not see, for a tremendous blinding light shone from her. Comfort, courage, and strength filled her and her body had stopped moving in the air. The great light faded, and to the surprise of both the angel, and all present, there was a moment to give all pause. She was no weak mortal shell any longer. No, she had been restored! Brunette hair cascaded down to her ankles, alabaster skin of a powerful and athletic figure was clad in white silk cleaner than any snow. Her ears bore white feathers, like the wings of a dove, giving her humanoid appearance an added look of agility and inhumanity. From her back spread the tremendous wings of her angelic form, constructed entirely from light. It is one thing to recognize an angel in a mortal shell, it is another entirely for one to truly arrive in all their glory. Though some may have seen angels from other realms before, an angel of Chromiel appearing in a material plane, was something no creature could dismiss. For the first instant she was revealed, an overwhelming presence of strength could be felt… but it would only last for that instant. As triumphant as this moment was, it was quickly marred by the seals that had been wrongfully placed on her. Despite her beauty and hoply might, the angel still bore the shackles of her mortal shell. Chains extended from those at her ankles, wrists, and two rings that appeared about her waist. Though she was literally unable to touch the ground, for it was unworthy of something so holy, she could rise only so high. What had only a moment before been a symbol of absolute divine might, was now something demons would find the courage to mock. For despite what she stood for, and whatever power she wielded… a chained angel seemed far less a threat. “Thank you, precious light.” She still murmured, she could feel the darkness continueing to try to drain her holy strength and could feel that her time in this body was limited; but wondered if the spell upon her would be as beneficial when feeding from a source of pure light, two beings who drew strength from darkness. Despite her chains, she hovered in the air and raised an arm towards the dark one again. She knew he was not the source of the spell; but he was the leader of this travesty, and had to be stopped. Her shining eyes glowed even brighter and once more a bolt flew from the heavens towards him, without pause, and without punishment for the use of her power, the angel turned her gaze on the one whose magic was draining her, and a second holy bold would fire from the heavens to strike at her as well. Swooping forwards, the angel with no name loosed an angelic note instead of furious battle cry, and swung her wind and fire wheels at the dark lord, hoping to strike him with the weapons now blessed with holy power. It was a glorious display that would give hope throughout the dark days ahead, to some who had not been able to flee the armies of Morrim, and so had been able to witness this. Despite this, the angel could already feel that it would be a short lived moment… for already the dark magic was beginning to ware on her still hindered form. |
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| Andromalius | Aug 12 2009, 08:02 PM Post #19 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The supreme evil had his back to the left-overs, apathetic to the scene unfolding behind him now. He had places to be, things to do, a new nation to organize... and Sphynx could handle anything just as well as he could, possibly better. He still wasn't quite sure how limited her power was, but the Banshee did trust her. He trusted her. Part of it was the simple knowledge that they both were attempting to obtain the same thing together, but the other part of it was born the night they laid wrapped against each other, and him waiting for the sun to rise. As emotionally distant as Andromalius was, he hadn't had a woman in so long, and everyone had a weakness. She was quickly becoming his. Almost gone, the mage hesitated on his next step as he was called to from way back at the palace steps. It was a bold promise of defiance, and while something so small would probably not keep him from his current mission, it did cause him to hover just long enough to watch the girl change. The light was the first thing, and Andromalius raised his hand to shield his eyes from the coming onslaught of brilliance, the glow of his eyes completely eclipsed by the holiness. When it faded, his arm fell and he was able to bare witness to a full-formed angel. With only a second to muse at her appearance, he watched as she raised her arm. "...Fool me once..." he smiled subtly at her, knowing full well what she was trying to do now. It wouldn't work again. As the bolt descended, his body became transparent, allowing the godsend to shoot straight through the top of his head and down, crashing against the ground harmlessly. He saw the same attempted on Sphynx, and it was near laughable. He grinned even as the angel shot forward, and teasingly beckoned her to come with a long, taloned index finger. This had gone on for far too long, and it was distracting him from what he really needed to be doing right now. He'd end it here, and thanks to her, she'd become so irritating that he was caring considerably less about keeping her life intact. Each swing was dodged, missing her weapons with what seemed to be a natural ease, when really it probably would have been far more difficult were he not in his current Abyssal form. "You're throwing my mercy back in my face, you realize," he conversed casually while continuing to play with her. "I seldom show it. Not to mention, I don't think you're really thinking of the consequences here. You're not putting just your own life on the line, but also every single person who is taking shelter in the palace right now." He feet left the ground, flying up into the air to hover about twenty feet off the paved stone. From this new position, he stared down at the angel, still wearing the same grin. "I just want you to understand that you made me do this. I wasn't going to, and in fact, if you'd just stood aside like we'd asked, this never would have happened..." Both large arms extended, gloved in twisting metal which gleamed in the light of the burning city. His head lifted, staring straight ahead at the palace, as the surrounding area gradually grew dim, the place between his hands sucking the light from everything like a black hole. A bolt of energy cracked around his talons, and soon, a perfect sphere of swirling blue and violet emerged from the air. It grew in size gradually for a few seconds until its diameter was half of his whole length. Pressure dropped, a low, humming sound could be heard, incredibly loud but just below the decibel for people to be able to hear, before his arms shot out and hurled the destructive orb into the side of the palace. For a moment, nothing happened, but after the moment had passed, the building erupted like an angry volcano, spitting fire and debris everywhere. The structure's roof collapsed, but the blow had been so powerful that none of the floor could hold, and it all came crashing down. Shrieks and wails of intense agony rose up over the roar of the flames, but they didn't last as all inside met their fate. "Goodness!" he chirped happily. "You certainly are cruel, Angel! Listen to how many people you just killed!" He wasn't worried about Orion. That lunatic could take care of himself. "Sphynx!" he called down from above. "I don't even care what state she ends up in anymore, just finish it!" That was it. Andromalius took the the skies to no longer be distracted by such petty things. He was gone in nearly an instant. The angel would either have to search the city for him now, or give up. |
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| Sphynx | Aug 18 2009, 02:48 PM Post #20 |
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All-Knowing Mod of Elly
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Though the necromancer could see the angel’s lips move as she spoke her prayer, she was far enough away that the whispered words did not reach her own ears. Sphynx was concentrating on assaulting the shield, and she could feel the shield breaking. Her power sought out the weak points, focusing on them like mini chisels clawing at the cracks. It wouldn’t be much longer now, she knew. And then, the angel would be hers. The moment that the wings faded and drew back into the angel, the shield shattered and the darkness sought its purchase. The magic worked quickly, drawing out the very life from the creature as she fell onto her hands and knees. Sphynx let up on her power, regretting that she wouldn’t be able to kill the child just yet. Already though she was tired of this game, ready to be done and move on to more important matters, like making sure that Orion had done his bit. She watched as the other got shakily to her feet, the entire form trembling like a leaf in the wind. She had to admit; the kid annoyingly persistent, and likely not very bright to continue to stand against them. Maybe she should just end this now, and Andromalius be damned… But something was wrong. Her eyes followed as the angel lifted into the air suddenly and a great light flashed around her. Instantly the sorceress shielded her eyes with an arm, yet the gesture was more of a reflex. Her vision blurred at the sheer brightness of the light, and by the time she blinked her eyes enough to clear them, she was looking upon a completely different person. The new features, brightness of skin, long hair, wings; she found the sight rather disgusting actually, though the chains that began to wrap around her body added a nice touch. Sphynx crossed her arms over her chest as the angel raised a hand towards them. Really? Was the show necessary; all it did was alert them to the fact that she was about to cast some type of spell at them. But honestly she didn’t expect it to be the exact same spell that she had already used against him, and her eyes grazed to the side as she watched the banshee become transparent so that the bolt slide right through him. For her, she decided that her own shield would suffice just fine. The transparent magical screen was up in a split second and took the bolt with barely a shiver. She looked up to the sky, almost as if to ask if that was all. The scene was growing even more dull as the angel shot forward to clash with the banshee, who clearly had the upper hand by the display of his dodging her attacks. But his final charge was the best of all. Destroying part of the palace while blaming the deaths of innocents inside on her holiness; truly a beautiful thing. In reality, it was all of the angel’s fault; if she had simply stood aside to begin with, then she would not have forced his hand. Sphynx couldn’t help the glint in her eye or the smirk that caught at the corner of her mouth as she looked up at him, nodding her head slowly one time to show she understood her newest orders. If that was the case, she wasn’t going to waste her time with the spell that would merely drain her of energy. Dropping that spell completely, Sphynx recalled the darkness to her, drawing it in from the surrounding area. It would produce a much more violent spell. The blackness was swiftly shaped into three spheres each slightly larger than a human head. The three spheres grew inch long needle like spikes that encased their outer surface. “Let’s play catch, shall we?” In the blink of an eye, all three of her creations shot forwards towards the angel. The effects of such a hit could be devastating; the darkness was solid enough to cut into flesh or break bones simply from the force of a proper hit. And that isn’t even to mention the emotional effects; an intense depression and sadness that can sometimes take days to pull oneself out of. Good thing that each of these spheres was aimed for a different body part, making it more difficult to block or dodge all three. Once that was done, she called on her remaining undead, the five reanimated Ashokan soldiers, and sent them forwards to attack the angel. They were slower than a typical human would be; being as she not only had to control the five of them but also concentrate on her own spells. A single thought implanted into their minds, to destroy the angel until their next trip into death, was all that kept them going. Once she had set that thought in their minds, she knew that they would keep going until destroyed or until nightfall, when the magic would probably wear off. She couldn’t have them being a constant drain on her. With a vicious grin and a lazy, one handed salute, she two disappeared from the spot, teleporting away. There were far more important matters to attend to, and being as Orion had made it into the castle anyway, her part of the plan was complete. It was up to him now to kill the king, and their job here would be done. |
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| Orion de Lacey | Aug 26 2009, 11:17 PM Post #21 |
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Governor of Ashoka
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((My final post here. People can continue to post after me, but know that Ashoka has officially been conquered and that Orion is now its Governor, Andromalius its true king. You can place this post wherever you'd like in the thread's timeline, but now that Moghul's dead, it's pretty much over on the fighting front.)) As he ran down the halls, following the muted whispers of the Moghul and his advisor more than anything, playing a nice game of cat and mouse, Orion happened upon a Morrimian soldier. Grabbing the man by the sleeve of his tunic, the fighter paused to yank him back. The startled man protested, turned, saw who it was, and immediately closed his mouth. "I need two buckets, pails, whatever you can find." "Buckets... sir?" "Yes. Buckets." The guard stood there, looking both dumfounded and taken aback. "Now." The latter nodded, swallowed, and ran off to do as he was bid. Orion turned his head, the grin upon his face spreading more - if that was even possible anymore. It was time to end the hunt and complete the final phase. The door to a random room down a random hall in the middle of a palace that was slowly crumbling to the ground slammed shut. The psychopath turned his back to the unfortunate king who had been thrown to the ground like a ragged, abandoned doll, his fingers quickly and easily locking the door within. For added measure he pushed a nearby bookcase, empty of all but a few books, against the door, firmly barricading it. On the other side the advisor pounded on it helplessly, screaming at the top of his lungs for the king to be released. Orion turned to face that very person; Moghul had managed to pull himself onto his feet, sword in hand. His cape was tattered and falling apart, his pants dirtied, boots scuffed. He looked worn, this short man who now defied the one who had taken him hostage. "What are you going to do?" the king demanded, blade held at the ready. "I told you," Orion huffed, pulling his scythe down from his back. From his hip he unhooked the sister head and attached it with a satisfying click to the butt end of the blade. Leaning the polearm against his body, the chain at his waist was wound around his right arm. "I'm here to kill you." "Excuse me?" "You heard me." Orion lunged forward then, bringing the white-feathered head of his blade down upon the man in what was a surprisingly quick maneuver. The king managed to parry the swift attack but only just, staggering off to the side as they broke apart. He wasn't given much reprieve as the fighter lunged again, reversing his tactics so that the scythen came up in an upward arc. Again, Moghul managed to parry the blade before skipping backwards. Realizing that remaining on the defensive would get him absolutely nowhere, he decided to try his own hand at offensive tactics. He moved forward and slashed. He was fast, but not fast enough. Orion's foot struck out, smashing into the burlier man's stomach; Moghul stumbled backwards, clutching at his abdomen. His back struck the wall. "Pathetic," the fighter hissed, moving until there was a foot of space between them. "I had expected something far more epic." "Get away from me." Spit landed on Orion's cheek. Orion may have beheaded the man then and there, if not for a particularly violent rumble through the palace. Sandy debris fell from the ceiling, coating their heads in a light dust. Moghul, taking that slim opportunity to cause some real damage, lunged as the palace began to crumble. As the psychopath's head made the motion of turning, his blue eye caught the flash of steel in the dimly-lit room, causing him to whirl out of the way. It wasn't enough and the blade sliced through his arm, from just below his shoulder to his elbow. Rather than howl in agony, Orion snarled something fierce, throwing himself onto the man that had inflicted the wound. Spittle still clung to his cheek, a reminder that the king, his fate now sealed, was going to die this day. A sound akin to both a howl of triumph and maniacal laughter reverberated through the room. The pounding on the door stopped as Moghul's agonized screams overpowered his murderer's own voice. When the screams had finally died away - but not the laughter, oh no, that was to continue for much longer to the horror of any passing by - and with it all sound from within the room, the bookshelf was pushed aside and the door unlocked. The guard who had been sent to find the buckets had returned. He passed them over the body of the advisor. Noticing the blood oozing down Orion's arm, his lips formed the words to ask what had happened, but was not given the chance to actually speak them. The fighter spoke over him, giving him new directions. "Construct some sort of dais, in the town square. Gather up every single Ashokan left alive, soldier, peasant, noble, whatever. Have them gathered there." The guard knew better than to question him this time. The gathering of people around the dais was few compared to what the population of Eldahar had been before Andromalius and his troupe had arrived. Most of the men who had been guards or soldiers had been killed; the nobility, by whatever means possible, had largely fled unless they'd been, for some reason, locked in their homes; and the peasantry, unable to escape the streets, had either been trampled to death, killed by Morrimian soldiers, or whisked away to safety by the benevolent. Orion knew as he walked briskly through their ranks that many of them would return once things had settled and the idea that their king was dead had sunk in. Carrying two pails with parts of a tattered cape covering them, and more of that cape wound around the gash on his arm, the psychopath climbed the wooden stairs of the makeshift dais. People stared silently at him as he turned and stood before him; they waited expectantly to find out what their fate would now be. "Citizens of Eldahar, Ashoka," he called, the buckets on the ground, his arms spread wide. "For years now you have been burdened by a monarch who didn't care for you or your saftey; for years now, you have been condemned to take part in a civil war that should never have happened. Why fight what doesn't need to be fought? For many of you, discontent has run high with Moghul, King of Ashoka. I won't bore you with petty speeches and promises, but I can assure that your new ruler will be... much better. I will, however, do one thing. I know many of you wanted a piece of Moghul - so here you go!" The pieces of cloth were torn away. Orion reached into the pails, grabbing fistfuls of what was within. Throwing as hard as he could, fleshy bits flew through the air, raining down on the citizens below. Startled, many looked up. Organs, bone, pieces of skin, hair, it all came down, landing on them, being caught by others. Orion continued to throw, pulling out pieces of heart, liver, stomach, intestine, brain to throw at the crowd in front of him, all the while grinning. He saw someone catch a fragment of Moghul's face, eye still in its socket, horrified; another caught a foot, others fingers. When both pails were empty of the vast majority of the king's maimed body, Orion stood back and crossed his bloody arms over his chest. From head-to-toe he was covered in it, his and the former king's, smatterings of it on his face, most of it on his chest and legs, arms. The deep crimson contrasted sharply with the colour of his eyes, which shone with an eerie light. "Say hello to your new Governor." |
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| Forgotten | Aug 28 2009, 12:11 AM Post #22 |
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The angel witnessed the dark one as he evaded her attack. Both of them did. Her blades, were to no avail and the angel knew, before it happened, that there would be tremendous repercussions for her failure. It all had to be in the lights plans. Perhaps he had killed that man from before, or slain many of his own soldiers who were still inside. Even as the great beast rose higher than her chains would allow, into the sky, and began to try to blame her for his actions, she consoled herself with the knowledge that she had heard the light, it was with her, and whatever would come to pass was not her doing but the others actions. She can not be blamed for HIS decisions. The building erupted and Forgotten kept herself from shedding tears by instead grabbing hold of righteous anger. However, her enemy eluded her leaving her to turn on only a single target. Only one enemy remained to fight, and it seemed this foe too was already working to retaliate against the angel. She turned in time to see the spiky orbs of darkness heading her way. The first she was able to dodge, at the cost of being in the more direct path of the third as her wings coiled around the approaching second and with the force of light within her, was able to guide it past her instead of to herself. however, two wings occupied, and only one projectile headed outright, left the third to strike her in the back. She heard ribs pop near their base and cried out in pain. She could feel the darkness searching to take her emotions and did her best to use her aura to try to fight it. However the strain was becoming incredible and she could feel something else... the time was up. She knew it the instant before it happened. In a flash of white like and a noiseless explosion she fell from her place in the sky. Pain racked her body. She was blind, and bound by many chains as the nails returned to her wounded and bleeding back, just before she struck the ground, writing in pain before she hit. Surely her emotions might have been effected, were she not consumed by the pain of her mortal shell being punished for the use of her own body. Pain blocked out all other things and soon her mind faded into darkness lost from the world of the conscious as the dead soldiers approached the angel. She would be unable to fight them or do anything. Tears streamed down her face in sadness amplified by the dark magic, as she wept for the dead and those whose time to seek the light had been cut short. They would be cast to the depths thanks to the acts of the evil she had tried to face. However, the tears would stop soon enough. For she was unconscious even when they began, and furthermore, the angel had spent thousands of years cut off from the very thing that she believed in, unjustly punished and alone. After that, she could always find something to be grateful for.... Still, while she lay in pain and unconsciousness, the animate dead were drawing near the beaten angel, death approaching swiftly. Only by the grace of the light, would she survive this. ((Sorry this is so late...and lame... i was having a real hard time gathering muse for her.... still am but i felt it had to be done now or it might never)) Edited by Forgotten, Aug 28 2009, 12:12 AM.
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| Andromalius | Aug 28 2009, 12:52 PM Post #23 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The mage drew a piece of paper up to his face, the paper curled on either end as if it had been waiting for him, all rolled up, throughout this whole ordeal. Bright, violet eyes were scanning it feverishly, and when he was done, he nodded and handed it back to the soldier at his side. "Well done, everyone. It took no time at all. I don't believe our results would have been so great if you hadn't been there for us," Andromalius turned to face an elder man, his face like leather after so many hot summers in the desert, riddled with the scars of fighting for his freedom. It was the leader of the rebel movement, and as he stood, he wrung his hands unconsciously, chest heavy as he had been wondering since the carnage began if it was truly the best decision to join this ...monster. True, Moghul was taken care of, but not by the hands that ought to have killed him. No doubt the bastard who did the deed wasn't fighting for anything but the sight of blood, like all of this monster's equally horrible followers. Not to mention, his beloved city had been ruined only in an hour, and it had gotten worse since then. He didn't dare think of all the innocent lives that had been taken this evening, else he may have to kill himself for this great treachery. He said nothing in response to Andromalius, but the mage looked on at him with knowing, a dry smile creeping across his noseless face. "When I came to you..." the Banshee began, "...there was no miscommunication. We both wanted this, and I helped you achieve it. If you cannot feel anything but regret in this glorious moment of victory, than obviously you didn't actually want what you told me you did. I can't leave my new country in the hands of someone who doesn't know what they want." "What are you saying, Sorcerer...?" the rebel leader took a step up, as if to defy the monster. "What I'm saying is... you've been dismissed. The county will be controlled by my governor to ensure its future course." Andromalius was handed another piece of paper and turned his attention to it, reading as he continued. "Now you have a few choices to make... Die right here, right now, by my hand, go on living in your ruined city without power or influence, or wait for the time to rebel again, this time against me and my regime. If it's between the first and third option, if there's anything like that in your mind right now, I'd go with the first... Defiance, in my world, holds a graver consequence than death." The man thought for a moment. He wasn't dumb. With a great, defeated sigh, his posture fell into a slouch. "I'll take the fourth option. Allow my family and I safety, please. We'll move away from this place, away from you, and live the rest of our lives away from tyranny." "Where do you plan to go?" Andromalius's head turned up finally to face him. "...I don't know. Soto, maybe... It's not that much of a change, and it's not governed by one single soul, but many... We might be happy there." The apparition's eyes shifted away, "...For all of a week. I'm not stopping here. Soto and Angkar will also fall. But it's a good idea to head south. Maybe you can find an island to live on that I don't care about." Doubtful. "But yes, I'll give you safe passage out of Ashoka, but once you cross the border, you and your family are on their own." "That's all that I ask for..." the man turned, and started back for where he knew his family to be, to gather their belongings and run. "I'm not a weak man." The rebel leader paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "I just have something to protect." "Then protect it!" Andromalius smiled warmly. "Succeed in that, and I will never consider you a weak man." With a nod, he left. The Emperor turned back to his business, thankful that it was almost all over. He'd have to recuperate for many days after being in this form for so long, and he was looking forward to getting that over with. "Your Highness!" a young soldier can to stand and salute somewhere near the Banshee. "Orion de Lacey has made himself a soapbox and is standing on it, declaring himself governor, while throwing chunks of the late king at people." There was a brief silence as the information sank in before Andromalius exploded into a fit of dark laughter, genuinely amused at this particular report. Seems Orion was overly ready to begin his new assignment. So be it. "Right," he cleared his throat. "That's fine... Let him do what he likes. He earned it. Does everyone have their instructions for the next several days?" The battalion of soldiers he was surrounded by all saluted in affirmation. "Wonderful. Let's get the citizens situated now. And for the love of all that is unholy, please attempt to remain civil to these people. To underestimate any one of them is to welcome death, even the children... especially the children. I imagine many of them will want to seek revenge. But first and foremost, you are going to be representing me, and I don't want anyone to think I'm not a reasonable fellow. Take anyone's acts of rebellion seriously, and chop off their heads before they have time to say anything more..." "YES, SIR!!!" "Great. I'm leaving now... Take all incidents and reports to Orion from here on out unless otherwise is said." With that final bit, he started off towards the blooming field of tents to take a little break from conquering the world. ((Okay, kids. That's it for me.)) Edited by Andromalius, Aug 28 2009, 11:52 PM.
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