Rust
Squire
Posts: 4
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Post by Rust on Oct 21, 2008 12:09:01 GMT
Yourgene opened the book with some curiosity. It was a popular poem about heroes and kings of past generations and their heroic struggling against tyranny of evil dragons and necromancers. The thin book in cheap leather covering was given her by one of the merchants from the caravan Yourgene joined to .Both of them were placed in a same carriage and were destined to spend the journey together. The old man noticed the young elf girl who seemed to be bored and decided to aid the beauty. He opened one of his packages which were full with books and offered to choose one for journey time. Yourgene was surprised by the kind offer yet rushed to use it. Pulling out a random book she smiled to the old man and sat back on her bench.
Yourgene's eyes scanned the beautifully calligraphic page with elegant letters and drawings. She found herself fascinated with the ancient stories and the epic battles which were described in details. Very soon she was concentrated at the book, enjoying reading it.
Hours passed as the caravan wet on and on at his way to Mirivar. The way calm and peaceful, a fact that made the bodyguards less careful. A sudden arrow seemed to grow in one of the mercenary's throat. The man fell from his horse, dying on the grounds. The caravan stopped immediately as reaction to the ambush. Swords were revealed, ready to cut. Shields were raised to protect from the rain of deadly arrows in time the merchants hid deeper in their carriages.
It was a short fight of brave against the band of raiders. The bodyguards fought well but they were doomed against the brute orcs and coward human archers who chose their victims accurately from distance. Curses and screams of death filled the air. Many of the merchants tried to escape in attempt to survive but none of them did it.
Yourgene jumped from the carriage, ducking and looked around. The situation seemed to turn worse with any moment. She bit her lip at the bloody chaos around her. A few seconds later Yourgene was attacked by two furious, axes wielding Orcs. The bandits thought they found an easy prey yet were too late to understand their fatal mistake. A simple gesture, one word were enough to grow up two sharp edged rocks right under their legs. The Orcs were pierced by the stone and ended their pitiful lives twitching in agony.
Yourgene made a step back when she realized she was the only survivor currently. Corpses of bandits were mixed with those of caravan protectors and unfortunate merchants. Eyes of all the remained attackers were on the lone elf female now, filled with dark urges and bloodlust. The archers were ordered to lower their bows, such a pretty elf female could be for use alive. Yourgene gritted teeth. Her battle only began. The bandits charged forth and were met by walls of heavy sand and big rocks flying at them. One against many, a single girl against group of cruel males. The only emotion that held her from falling apart was the will to survive.
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Post by Azriel on Oct 21, 2008 18:49:07 GMT
A thunderous roar erupted against the vale’s mountains, ricocheting off the sharp cliffs and echoing in the hearts of the bandits. A dragon pierced the icy wind, its wings folded close to its stony stature. It intricately dodged the barrage of arrows, regardless of the minimal damage it inflicted upon the earthen dragon. The massive beast landed beyond the veil of sand conjured by the young elf. Its onyx-hue scales bristled as it faced adversity, its golden orbs possessing a malicious pupil that eyed its enemies.
Azriel was suspended on the edge of a ravine, witnessing the spectacle from afar. His conjured summon was obeying his every word, its crested head turned slightly to listen to his next command. Azriel silently mouthed a demand, the dragon’s wings shivering as its zeal consumed its soul. The wyvern shrieked, its fangs gleaming lethally under the sunlight. The bandits cowered as the dragon advanced on their insignificant shadows, their swords, axes and arrows a minor inconvenience to the earthen beast. It voluptuously bit into the throat of an offending Orc, violently ripping out its oesophagus with a fierce splash of blood. It simultaneously whipped its strong tail to an adjacent human, the thief’s stomach being slashed apart by the three bony sickles protruding from its tail. The carnage proved to be too taxing for the raiders, abandoning the will to battle. Azriel’s wyvern snarled at the cowardice, delivering a violent beat of its wings. The impact cast the men to the earth, where they lay vulnerable to death. The bloodthirsty creature prowled unto their fallen bodies, stomping its claws into their chests.
The dragon crouched low to the earth, stretching its wings and straightening its sturdy neck. Delivering a guttural roar, a wide vein in the earth zippered to the last survivors hidden in the oaks. It deliberately shot a spiky barrage of earth spires beneath the roots, skewering bark and flesh alike.
Azriel expelled a relieved breath, hastily sprinting to the path. Azriel sauntered along the path, pausing just beyond the elf’s range. Azriel stroked his Summon’s spiralling horn, giving it a pat.
“Excellent work, Wyvern.” Azriel earned a content purr, the dragon’s snout nuzzling into its master’s chest. A swirling torrent of air materialized in the distance, the dark vortex beckoning the dragon to return from whence it came. Having served its purpose, the creature slunk away, venturing into the portal and vanishing from the realm. Azriel was fatigued from having to conjure one of his unworldly charges, yet the Summoner acknowledged that wolves or panthers would have been slain in due time. Azriel regarded his guest, performing a shallow albeit graceful bow.
“I profusely apologize,” Azriel admitted, his carmine eyes brimming with regret, “I acknowledge how frightening this phenomenon is. I did not want you to befall injury, please forgive me.” Normally, this extensive apology would have been laughable due to its intensity. Azriel was obligated to be heavily contrite, because he had committed a terrible tragedy. Azriel had been exiled from Elendil Aldaríon eight days ago, the anguish and strife too new for the man. Helping this elf was the first step in redeeming his mistake.
Azriel glimpsed upon the frail elf, her pallid skin as pure as his ivory robes. Her age reflected to be in the early hundreds, though it was debatable to Azriel. The Summoner was only nineteen years old, and a human. Being raised by the Thalíon did not aid his detection in calculating Elven age. Azriel sheepishly grinned, scratching his obsidian black mane. Azriel politely used the Thalíon dialect, hoping she could forgive his intonation.
<My name is Azriel Dragoş. I can escort you to a nearby city. Unfortunately I do not know the way,> Azriel admitted ruefully, <I am from a southern continent, you see. I arrived on the coast four days ago, so I have been aimlessly wandering the land. Truthfully, I want to help you. I will understand if you say ‘no’. I have been told that I am a frightening person.> Azriel finished with a dejected sigh, recalling the countless ridicule.
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Post by The Blacksmith on Nov 3, 2008 1:06:21 GMT
Syolkiir was about to reveal himself from behind his hiding place when his eyes quickly darted off towards a nearby hill and a deep, thick roar shattered the silence of the forest for miles around. Quickly moving back into the shadows, he could see large black wings flickering through the tree canopy and then feel the crashing quake of the beast's weight pounding out onto the open road. Arrows knocked onto the trees around him a half-second later and cries of the bandits were anything but brave, yelling out curses and obscenities when their weapons couldn't cut through the beast's defenses. Such revelation turned their hope into envious fear as they were contemptuously spry to retreat, not realizing that escape was quite impossible at this point. Another guttural roar pierced the wind after Syolkiir sensed the life of his former-comrades was pretty much extinguished.
The half-elf's eyes flickered a second time when his ears picked up the vibrations of running feet, watching a young man sprint onto the forest path without a hint of fear from the nearby beast. While watching the boy pat the dragon's head, Syolkiir quickly grasped the situation and the leaves, branches, and vines that cloaked his appearance began to recede. He then slithered through the darkness out next to the edge of the forest and felt relief when he saw the wyvern jumping into a portal. A summoner of some sort, is he? Syolkiir asked himself as he caught view of a survivor not far off, a young girl who radiated a familiar aura. Hmph, an elf. This is going to make it a little harder now that the bandits I was going to kill are dead. He thought, his mind quick to process a strategy.
Originating from where he stood, a pulsating whisper began to echo throughout the forest in great waves, though they did not reach out towards the two near the coach. After a minute, the half-breed picked up a large stone and swung it hard. It went far above their heads and into the forest, landing with a hard thud. The sound should alert the duo that a bandit may be alive, using that as a distraction to silently run across the open road when their heads would be turned and then step behind the caravan.
At this point, Syolkiir couldn't help but feel frustrated that he would soon have to deal with them if he was to rob the caravan of anything valuable, and only one thing came to mind while thinking of the manner in how that would happen. Leaning down, he got underneath the caravan and hid him self on its belly, one arm holding onto his short blade. If the elf and young man were to travel together, they'd probably use the caravan.
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Rust
Squire
Posts: 4
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Post by Rust on Nov 16, 2008 19:13:47 GMT
Yourgene simply stared at the man who made his entrance into her today so out of nowhere. He was a black haired human. He was a tall man, slender and young. Yourgene noticed that a lot of human women would notice that good looking ( by human terms) guy. As for herself she didn't care much. Thoughts of attraction and love of such a kind never bothered her virgin mind.
A powerful summoner he was, there was no doubt about that. His almost perfect manipulating the dragon creature did impress the elf. Yet she preferred to keep her calm face not to seem surprised. She was glad not be his enemy at the same moment. It could be quite problematic to fight such a skilled opponent. The human introduced himself as Azriel Dragoº and even performed a gallant bow before her. That left the elf a bit puzzled. She wasn't used to such a behavior and wasn't sure how to respond. It took her a few seconds to decide that a deep neck crack will be enough. Yourgene lowered her head at him for a moment and returned to stare right into his eyes.
"My name is Yourgene Velt. Although I thank you for ending the bandits for me…I could manage to finish it myself." She said in her naturally soft voice. I don't think I know the way as well and sadly there's none left to show the direction." She added calmly as she checks around for any survivors. All of them were dead. So many dead surrounded her once more, covered with blood, their faces silent in their last agony. Yourgene shuttered and turned away, her features are stiff in attempt to hide her true feelings.
A stone flying above their heads alerted to girl. She turned to watch where to it'll fly as if she didn't know that oh so old trick of distraction. Whoever was the person behind the trick he wanted to stay hidden. Was he a scared enemy? Most likely he was one of those bandits who tried to survive. That or to try to get her and Azriel by surprise. Without any explanation the girl reached down, leaning on a knee in time her fingers connecting the ground. A familiar pulsation of the earth excited her again, catching the rhythm of her own heart. She had to put aside that pleasing feeling of closeness which drew her in and concentrated on her mission.
Closing her eyes Yourgene searched for pulsating signals of warm masses. She could feel the echoing beats of living beings's hearts around. It was her secret skill which was helped to be developed by her insane ex master. Such a gift made Yourgene a perfect spy. She could tell if there other living creatures, how many of them were around, how big they were from the way their hearts pulsated and even the direction of their whereabouts. All she had to do is to be one with the earth, flesh to flesh. She was good in locating the rebel targets back then after receiving a long and intense training in it.
Quickly she located three beating hearts nearby. One of them belonged to her, the other was Azriel and last one beated quicklt. A big heart? I don’t think it’s a human.. perhaps an orc? Still it beats more delicately then a heart of a regular orc.. She stood up, looking at the hiding half orc and stared at his direction. "I know you are there so step out if you value your life." The elf suggested Syolkiir coldly.
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Post by Hypergraphia on Nov 18, 2008 10:58:10 GMT
A short distance away, amidst the peaks of the vale, a huddled figure stumbled along in an odd mechanical fashion, like some sort of perverse puppet hobbling on suspended on strings. Alas, this figure was human, or at least mostly human as the sun beat down upon the dark cloak that tried its best to shroud his lanky form. Eyes always darting to and fro, Argo Forma continued along the rough foothills, bare feet unbruised by the unsteady and often rocky terrain. Twenty years in prison can assuredly help to bolster ones feet. As the merciless sun beat down, the escaped alchemist's mind buzzed with thought, as was normal for such a quick-minded fellow. On one layer, he wondered where the nearest road would be. Roads often translated to travelers which translated equally well to provisions, reagents, and clothing to help keep the middle-aged convict afloat. The second layer of his mind gathered mental lists of herbs to enhance physical and mental energy so he could continue to walk infinitely. The world of Garm was a massive place and it could take quite a bit of this energy concoction to establish a new life... A new life for Argo Forma, murderer, liar, and bringer of misfortune.
The third layer, more of the nougat-filled center of his mind was a little microcosm to itself where Argo could have a silent conversation with the other soul that dwelt inside of him. His escape from the bastion that was Mirivar could only have been done by this other soul, Leroy. Deep within his mind, Leroy echoed plans and thoughts in that strong, confident voice that could convince anyone to do something. First, Argo had to find a small city, preferably one with dwarves, for they were less critical of humans from his experience. The business of alchemy could boom wherever people had expendable money, so major cities were useful, but both Mirivar and Nimian were dangerous places. The first knew him as a murderer and the second knew him as a thief and possibly a murderer. Perhaps the elven city might be a good place to settle... A few elves were pale and a few were tall... Perhaps he could pass for an elf of some sort... Perhaps he was thinking too hard...
As the landscape passed in all the drudgery of ninety percent of the world, Argo's eyes focused on a sprig. After spending many years picking herbs and an equal amount dreaming of picking herbs, Argo could spot a bush, sprig, or flower a mile away. Dashing with an awkward yet impressive pace, the cloaked albino made his way to a lone sprig growing out of a pile of rocks... What beauty it was to see a plant strive over the difficulties of rocky terrain or a debilitating blight or any sort of hardship, and still shine as brightly... As some poet once said, a rose grown from rocks is the most lovely of all... Perhaps it was merely because of the struggle over difficulty... Argo was no judge of beauty, to be honest... Although Taylor was lovely... That sudden thought sent Argo into a brief paralysis where he convulsed like a strange black blob for several minutes... She must hate him now...
With a quick movement, Argo's right hand pulled out his knife and sent a quick cut slice, severing the sprig which fell neatly into a bone-white hand. Looking up, Argo's ears perked slightly at a distant sound, eager to find someone beside himself... Perhaps he could talk to someone a bit. Then a thought sent another half-minute of paralysis. Perhaps it was a guard or torturer or demon sent to kill him, or worse, Take him back to prison! Argo knew full well that he could not live again if it was in that damnable place. He would have to take out the sentry quickly and perhaps a little messily. The bastards well deserved it! Reaching into a small pack he picked up from an ill-prepared merchant, Argo pulled out a length of thin rope and two clay bombs he crafted on the fly. These grenades were filled with black powder and had long fuses for a fantastic sneak attack. Tying the bombs together with the rope, he created a crude bola, an effective way to snare big enemies and destroy humanoids... Hopefully...
Sneaking up the ravine, the first creature he saw was an enormous dragon, an impressive figure for its size and an odd color for a drake. Such a creature could be a cornucopia of alchemic reagents. Dragons were said to be the toughest creatures to kill, but also the most profitable. The scales could be used for armor, its bones for scrying, the brain and the heart for intellectual and physical fortitude... Indeed it would be a fantastic way to start his new career. However, before he could throw the grenade-snare, the creature disappeared in a magical shimmer. A silent growl came from Argo, who really wanted that kill until he noticed the human who was previously protected by the dragon. What an easy kill... In addition, there appeared to be at least two more creature, the former seeking the latter and the latter poorly hidden... How foolish. Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out a little finger-spark he had crafted as soon as he escaped from that damnable prison. With a little rustle, he sparked each bomb and quickly spun the bola, throwing it at the summoner at full force, in hopes of getting a quick kill before dealing with the other threats.
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Post by Azriel on Nov 18, 2008 21:44:59 GMT
Azriel recognized the whirr of a flying object, caught off guard as he briefly captured a blurring flash of string and spherical weights. It rapidly spun in a flickering circle, its weighted tips sparkling like tiny wildfire. Azriel was utterly stunned, his ruby irises highlighted by the advancing bombs. ‘Explosives?!’ Azriel inwardly screamed, terrified beyond all recognition. He instinctively shielded Yourgene with his soaring physique, the two entities thrown protectively to the earth. Azriel inclined his vision, glancing to Yourgene with an apologetic countenance. ‘Forgive me…’ Azriel mouthed quietly, grimacing as he braced for the shattering impact. If anything, he would die a martyr.
A dues ex machina resolutely sprinted from the heavens, a diving eagle swiftly darting in the weapon’s trajectory. The ropes wildly ensnared its unintentional victim, tightly coiling around the fowl like a serpent. The bird plummeted to the earth, striking the leaves with a sickening crunch. Its claws were outwardly stretched, flexing its talons uselessly. Azriel succumbed to speechlessness, his disbelief indecisive as he witnessed the bird’s sacrifice. Centipedes and earthen grubs emerged from the soil, crawling upon the feathered mess like a shield. Thousands of insects consumed the chaos, their bodies absorbing the explosion as they were violently shredded from the force.
Azriel shakily disentangled his embrace from Yourgene, staring at the horrendous aftermath. Pieces of flesh littered the earth, feathers and skeletal remains scattered across the clearing. ‘Impossible,’ Azriel cursed silently, ‘I did not summon anything. I must research this phenomenon later. I believe there are two uninvited guests to attend to.’ The Summoner glared intensely at the earth, his sense of justice igniting his rage. Azriel’s carmine eyes glistened like bloody heart bursts, surveying the wilderness beyond the field. A second enemy had joined the mayhem, possibly in association with their first guest of ‘honour’.
The Summoner instinctively slashed his wrist upon a nearby red pine, the jagged bark scraping a healthy layer off his skin. Azriel winced as he smeared the miniscule dots of blood across his tattoo, the burning sensation ensnaring his regret of performing his incantation in this method. He did not like using his teeth, and he did not possess a dagger yet. Azriel concentrated on summoning his loyal charges, glimpsing to the forest expectantly. Amber orbs venomously glared back at him from the forest, their fangs flashing in a mock grin. Two wolves stealthily slunk from the foliage, sitting beyond their master’s feet diligently. Azriel fiercely pointed in a random direction, ordering them to survey the clearing.
A silvery wolf galloped to the edge of a thorny thicket, leaping over the bush like a horse. It clawed to a halt, staring straight ahead at its discovery. It glared viciously to a peculiar man, absorbing the image briefly before darting over the hedge. The wolf returned to Azriel, who rested his hand upon the canine’s skull. Azriel retrieved the wolf’s memories, frowning as he interpreted what the wolf saw.
The wolf had called him a ‘white devil’, and for good reason. The hidden man possessed a snowy complexion, and icy orbs that shone with a frosty blue. Horns sprouted from his skull, giving him the appearance of a satyr. The wolf had smelt foreign metals, indicating weapons or devices. ‘Or alchemy…’ Azriel mused. Azriel expelled an irritated breath, standing proudly.
“You have both been witnessed!” Azriel announced, “Do not provoke us, for I do not wish to battle.” Azriel attempted to remain calm, praying that a fight would not ensue upon their exposure.
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Post by The Blacksmith on Nov 19, 2008 5:28:51 GMT
Calendraug was quick to drop off the carriage the minute the grenades exploded in Aziel's direction, rolling to his right and standing up. He had sensed something a minute ago before the bombs had even been thrown, but it was all too surprising to see such power. Even the horses had been killed, almost instantly as they lied on their sides. Whatever threw those grenades hadn't planned on missing. Unfortunately, for whoever did throw those grenades, a miracle had came from the heavens to spare to lives of the knight in shining armor and the damsel in distress, the two supposed-victims getting up and the boy gathering a few pets to aid him in what he assumed was simply scouting for the perpetrator nearby. The wolf didn't take long to come back, Aziel seemingly beginning to understand the situation. What he said next made Calendraug mockingly laugh, his white fangs a great sight of intimidation.
“You have both been witnessed!” Azriel announced, “Do not provoke us, for I do not wish to battle.”
Now in full view, the half-orc stood at his full height, almost as tall as the coach itself and with a build no human could ever obtain. His greasy, slick-backed, long dark-green hair and stubbly beard seemed out of place too; along with the human-tailored clothes of a green cloak, gray tunic, brown leather pants, and a pair of large black boots.
"Witnessed, you say?" Calendraug smirked, his right hand pulling out his black bastard blade. "I cannot say I'm surprised. Even if I were truly as transparent as a ghost, you would've still noticed me." The sun's light seemed to fade from the bastard sword as he pointed it in the duo's direction. "Whether or not you want to battle makes no difference to me; however, I'm all for letting you surrender if it means I don't have to waste the energy to kill either of you." Calendraug's golden eyes flickered flirtatiously with a hint of bloodlust as the beast inside taunted the half-breed to let him out.
"On the other hand, if there is anything of value in or on this carriage, I'll take it and spare you having to fight. If not...," He paused for a moment as he looked beyond Aziel into the forest and a large grizzly bear with two cubs came waltzing out, nearing the summoner and giving him a few roars of warning, "I'll let you play with my newfound friends."
The bear's eyes, even the little ones, were also gold in color as they shook their heads as if something would eating at their ears, though they still continued to bare their fangs. A small pack of wolves followed and began circling the elf girl from a safe distance.
"I am a bit disappointed though, child. I was going to kill all those bandits and then you ride in on your fancy white horse, or should I say 'dragon', and ruin what was a simple robbery. Shame on you." Calendraug said calmly, yet clearly annoyed.
During all of this, Calendraug was able to make out a large aura a good forty feet away. It was huge, even from this distance and the halfling couldn't help but worry what held such willpower. The summoner he wasn't too cautious about, but a third party might make a mess of things.The grip on his sword tightened the more he thought about it.
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Rust
Squire
Posts: 4
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Post by Rust on Dec 6, 2008 15:20:35 GMT
Yourgene's eyes widened when the summoner threw both of them to the ground when his large form is above her. She didn't like that attitude of his or the physical contact between them. She was able to protect herself without him jumping between her and the exploding objects. The girl returned him an icy stare when he tried to apologize silently.
She was more than happy when Azriel moved away and stood up quickly. To be attacked by two unknown forces made her even less happy. Yourgene didn't want to fight. She would fight without holding back only to survive otherwise she'll just prefer to retreat.
“You have both been witnessed!” Azriel announced, “Do not provoke us, for I do not wish to battle.” Yourgene blinked at this kind of declaration. "We? There is no we. We are not allies or friends so why to declare such a thing?"She asked the summoner quietly. That person left her puzzled by his idealistic actions. What was he thinking to himself? Yourgene wasn't sure how to deal with that human. She couldn't trust him that easily, perhaps he has his own motives to act as he did.
As it seemed now the huge half orc revealed himself. His monstrous figure stood before them, his expression daring them to provoke him. His words, the dangerous sparkle in his carefully watching eyes told her a lot about that being. He was strong, even very strong and he won't hesitate to kill, perhaps he'll enjoy the process too. Yourgene made a grimace when she heard his reason to be around but said nothing. Without stopping the hostile monster summoned a few wild animals to surround them. Yourgene wasn't troubled by their presence but by his violent intentions. He could attack them any moment, without any warning. Those poor travelers were killed and now were about to be robbed when their bodies are still warm. The elf couldn't but pity them and their bitter fate.
Yet it wasn't her war from the beginning. She stared at Calendraug as all about her radiating serenity. "I don't care much. Do as you wish, just give them a honorable burial in the end. They deserve it." She said to him, meeting his blood lusting eyes without shivering.
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Post by Hypergraphia on Dec 6, 2008 21:14:54 GMT
It seemed as if plan B succeeded without a hitch. Instead of claiming a bit of dragon's treasure, so to speak, Argo had fricasseed a bird, scared at least one squishy magic-man immensely, and caused everyone to pull out their flunkies and canine companions to take down the "menace"... a heated flame deep inside of him sparked, amplified by the thought of conflict. The warrior spirit echoed chants of rage and other blood-boiling taunts, causing Argo's eyelid to twitch uncontrollably, muscles tensing as he prepared his attack on the enemies... It all seemed simple... By making an imposing entrance and destroying one or two of the insignificant whelps, these pitiful fools would gladly run away screaming like little forest elves. In the distance, his eye caught a spy... A wolf glaring at him with feral intensity, ferocious in an admirable way, but oddly unwilling to strike... This wolf did not want to fight, but to instead convey a message to his master. Inaudible to human ears, Argo gave out a deep growl, his nails clawing into the ground as he made his message perfectly clear... No one was going to get out of this scrape alive if he had the opportunity.
I took only a few seconds of planning and just a bit more to fully ascertain the area... Although against a group of this side, even divided, Argo could not stand a chance. He would waste too many grenades and risk too much in this fight. Instead, he would have to resort to a tactic he remembered as a child... Some of the weaker animals of the forest moved with such speed and used the cover to such an advantage that they could never be properly hit. Precise accuracy and scare tactics were the only way to go. Gritting his teeth in concentration, his body tensed, his scant muscles working in ways unimaginable. Dashing upon hands and feet with the blood lust of the wolf pack, Argo made his way up the bluff, leaping up at the highest point and expanding his cloak at just the right moment, causing it to billow, the dark colors contracting with his pale white skin and hair. For a millisecond, Argo was able to find out who exactly his enemies were... And that millisecond told a story's worth.
The human whom he had viciously attacked just a moment ago still lived, spared by incredible reflexes and a passing bird. Previously, he was only able to tell that the man was tall and was of a magical background, but now everything passed through his analyzing eye, taking in every detail of this soon dead man. Besides being tall, he was rather young, although not a child. He could have been an apprentice of magic, still trying to grasp pure, unadulterated power... Argo knew little of true magic, having spent his life in natural chemistry and the arts of alchemy. Although similar in essence, pure magic seemed to require less science and more willpower, something in which the giant had little of. As his pupil's raced about, they focused on an elven woman, unlike a normal elf but instead a little more tanned, as if her life was spent somewhere outside of the bountiful forests... He had learned once of the sand elves, although he had never once visited their realm... His teacher did not trust such a race, and as a result, Argo felt a deep stirring of distrust about that creature... It would be a pleasure to kill such a lady. The final enemy was fierce one indeed! An orc, or at least some sort of orc stood, along with three bears, surely similar to the spies he had noticed earlier... This creature seemed more difficult than the others... Perhaps it would be better to ignore the orc and go for the other fleshlings. But first thing's first...
After that brief moment of inspection, Argo landed, if not clumsily, atop of one of the caravan carts, frozen eyes glancing at each of his enemies with disdain and rage. Making his move without any hesitation, the giant spun on one foot, crouched down as to increase his speed as his hand grabbed at a grenade, lighting it with his improvised spark. From the rapid spinning came the explosive, spinning straight at the face of the larger bear. With all luck, the stupid creature would snap at it and explode... if not, she would surely explode nonetheless... A sick pleasure covered him at the thought of those two cubs growing up without a parent... Just Desserts... Without a moment to spare, his free leg pushed, launching him from his spinning stance at one of wolves, pulling his knive out and slashing with sheer abandon. One of those slashes did strike, catching the lupine by surprise and cutting open its underside, letting a mass of intestine fall to the ground in a wet plop. Grabbing at the guts with a free hand, Argo used what was left of his energy to haul himself up a tree branch. Although his body wanted to quit, Leroy kept whispering into his ear, urging him to fight on and his muscles responded. Finally letting go of the intestine to move as it may, Argo clamored up the tree, clutching the upper part of the trunk, grinning wildly at the chaos he caused... Demoralization would surely spread and from the death of the pawns comes checkmate...
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Post by Azriel on Dec 7, 2008 4:45:23 GMT
Azriel glanced in horror as an enemy of substantial stature leapt from the depths of the foliage, exposing his presence as the giant pounced upon the caravan roof with a deafening bang. Azriel was not impressed with that malicious grin, and his spiteful aura. It permeated from the man like a monsoon, thick waves of insanity crashing upon the bewildered Summoner. Azriel’s carmine eyes shimmered when he witnessed his wolf’s gruesome death, the intestines flying towards him and sliding to his feet. The organs were freshly warm, radiating disgusting bloody fumes. Azriel was stunned.
Azriel’s mentality finally snapped like a dry and brittle twig, triggering a hidden emotion he had not experienced in a while. Azriel courageously claimed a step forward, his boots crunching the leaves underneath. He irately glanced to Yourgene.
“I am summoning a Netherworld creature,” Azriel crooned monotonously, “I cannot guarantee your safety. It may be the weakest, but it is vicious enough to tear your heart into a gurgling pile of flesh. It does not know the difference between alliances. Nonetheless, it doesn’t matter, right?” Azriel unexpectedly laughed; a cruel, sinister laugh, “You can take care of yourself. You will not accept my aid, therefore you do not deserve my sympathy for when I watch you die. It’s your choice, insignificant elf.” Azriel’s words were ice as they rolled off his tongue with a detached and arctic tone. Azriel’s behaviour was highly unusual for his normally sunshine personality. Unbeknownst to the Summoner, Azriel was experiencing the natural intent of his kind – the Dark Wizards. It is said that when one is sworn into this alliance, they are reborn with a tiny spark that gradually flourishes into a hatred for everything and a desire to kill. Azriel did not remember his origins, nor his life before his thirteenth year. Azriel always believed he was a good person. ‘Perhaps I am not as pure hearted as I once believed…’
Azriel rudely shoved that thought aside, fishing out a sleek dagger from his satchel. He swiftly slit his wrist, blood slithering across his tattoo like a gurgling river. His eyes coincided with the blood perfectly, their unison frightening. Azriel smirked wolfishly, hungrily eyeing the white devil in the canopy.
<Azärynth dul Helios…> Azriel recited his powerful incantation, the one he rarely used. It was impressive that these two men spurred his need to summon a beast from hell. Azriel concentrated on opening the portal, a shining disc materializing upon the earth. A serpent crawled from the abyss, its spiked fin slicing the tension as its elongated body slithered to this realm. The serpent was immense, towering above the tree and tasting the air with a mauve tongue. It stared at the pale man intensely, its yellow eyes piercing. It hissed, that hollow sound chilling Azriel to the bone. He disliked having to summon such a thing, since it drained his energy too quickly. Azriel had yet to master prolonged battle with the Netherworld creatures. Azriel guised his increasing fatigue, pointing to the two enemies with either hand.
“Kill them.” The demon serpent hissed, lunging at the tree with unsurpassable speed. Its fangs bit into the trunk, snapping the tree in half. Without pausing, it circled around the clearing, quickly slithering towards the Orc. It snapped thin air, hissing angrily. It missed, but did not dwell too long. The serpent returned its attention to the giant, its mouth unhinging wide. Azriel cackled manically, his desire for murder building. ‘What on earth is happening to me?’ Azriel cursed inwardly, his body shivering with bloodlust.
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