The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
|
Post by The Raconteur on Nov 19, 2019 21:06:37 GMT -8
A giant sea of black, metallic sand, this desert is constantly covered in dark clouds but never rains.
Many adventurers will attempt to brave the sands in order to obtain the limitless treasure held within, but beware for this desert has a terrible secret.
The desert itself is a living, sentient metal bent on the consumption of all living beings. Any creature that steps within its boundaries is immediately and relentlessly accosted by the sands and its prey.
Worst of all, when you die in the sands, the sands claim you as a puppet, you become part of the sands, and the sands, part of you. Other adventurers that come across your moving corpse will find that you are much harder to kill than you ever were in life, covered in a salient black armor and unable to die save for by the most extreme injuries.
But if you forget everything else I've said, remember this: "Be wary of The Devoured One", for not heeding this advice is the fastest way to be a part of the sands forever.
|
|
Azra'il
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: With skin as white as death and eyes of ethereal blue, there is an unmistakable otherworldliness to her immediate figure. The once good and benevolent monk corrupted by unfathomable dark forces. Azra'il wears the monk robes from her past life, dyed black, signifying her personal fall from grace, and wears her black hair in an up-do, with shaved sides. The same as it was in life, yet forever changed in un-life.
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 22:16:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Azra'il on Dec 5, 2019 18:04:33 GMT -8
As they stepped onto the abyssal landscape, she uttered a prayer, beckoning the Dark Angel for guidance and protection. Although nothing could harm the everliving Monk, she couldn't say the same for her traveling companion. Ethereal eyes scanned the endless horizons of the Black Sands. There was no telling what they would find in the dry landmass, or if they would find anything at all. She wondered if she could control the rumored undead. Afterall, Necromancy was the same everywhere you went, no matter how fancily it was pre-packaged.
|
|
Octavio Skorzeny
New
Roleplay posts: 7 
Age: Visually indeterminate
Physical Description: As writ above, it is hard to tell the age of Octavio. He is certainly well past twenties and even thirties, but without any hair on his head and no wrinkles one would be hard pressed to pin him down as old. A long scar runs down the right side of his face lining up in it so perfectly one could believe it was placed intentionally by an artist. He's well above above ordinary human height to be impossible to hide in crowds, with oxen like shoulders removing any doubt of this. His skin is the colour of sand tinted by the sunset shade within his eyes. Despite being clearly a warrior, the rest of his perfected body seems to be free of any blemishes, scars or markings
Clothes and Equipment: A set of blessed full plate with the chainmail and gambeson usually expected to accompany it. Born in his hands will be a a great two handed evening star, down his belt will be a dagger and a Sword in scabbard. Across his back a crossbow will be slung, and who knows how many more weapons are concealed about his person.
Registered: Nov 10, 2019 17:56:42 GMT -8
|
Post by Octavio Skorzeny on Dec 5, 2019 19:10:18 GMT -8
Having deposited the pay for the contract, Octavio was in a somewhat good mood knowing he was now worth a whole lot more. He walked along the sands using his great maul somewhat like a cane in a leisurely stroll the the Voracious Desert. The Knight had never seen sand of such a colour before, but it wasn't a big deal. "Nice place." he said, by way of conversation. "Pretty, if unusual. I reckon some artistic bastard could do some real work with all this nonsense, too bad none of them are the sort to actually make it out here." He kept his eye out for something, anything. This was the sort of place to hide some real goodies, and he was very interested in expanding his wardrobe of cruelty.
|
|
The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
|
Post by The Raconteur on Dec 5, 2019 19:20:37 GMT -8
Almost immediately upon entering the desert, the two of you are accosted by a wall of the pseudo-undead known by most as The Consumed that appear from behind, raised up from the ground. They approach slowly and carry a wide variety of weapon types, however none of them seem to magical or even particularly ornate.
Arza'il, you feel an enormous pressure weighing down upon your mind, making it somewhat hard to think; it feels quite like a hangover after a particularly rigorous night of revelry.
Good thing it's dark out here I suppose.
|
|
Azra'il
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: With skin as white as death and eyes of ethereal blue, there is an unmistakable otherworldliness to her immediate figure. The once good and benevolent monk corrupted by unfathomable dark forces. Azra'il wears the monk robes from her past life, dyed black, signifying her personal fall from grace, and wears her black hair in an up-do, with shaved sides. The same as it was in life, yet forever changed in un-life.
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 22:16:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Azra'il on Dec 5, 2019 20:25:28 GMT -8
"Praise be," she muttered with a raspy, toneless voice, "there is strong magic at work here, but the wards hold strong."
So the rumors hold true. The Black Sands was sentient indeed. It seem to think it has a claim on all things undead, including herself. Azra'il would have felt the enormous pressure if not for the wards of protection cast over them through her prayers prior to entering the desert. Instead, she only felt a gentle tingling sensation at the base of her skull, as well as a strong pull, as if something parasitic was trying to attach itself there. Azra'il curiously glanced over her shoulder at the sounds of shuffling coming from behind them, but didn't stop. The undead weren't on the offense yet, but the monk was prepared to take control of them herself should the desert make them try.
|
|
Octavio Skorzeny
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Visually indeterminate
Physical Description: As writ above, it is hard to tell the age of Octavio. He is certainly well past twenties and even thirties, but without any hair on his head and no wrinkles one would be hard pressed to pin him down as old. A long scar runs down the right side of his face lining up in it so perfectly one could believe it was placed intentionally by an artist. He's well above above ordinary human height to be impossible to hide in crowds, with oxen like shoulders removing any doubt of this. His skin is the colour of sand tinted by the sunset shade within his eyes. Despite being clearly a warrior, the rest of his perfected body seems to be free of any blemishes, scars or markings
Clothes and Equipment: A set of blessed full plate with the chainmail and gambeson usually expected to accompany it. Born in his hands will be a a great two handed evening star, down his belt will be a dagger and a Sword in scabbard. Across his back a crossbow will be slung, and who knows how many more weapons are concealed about his person.
Registered: Nov 10, 2019 17:56:42 GMT -8
|
Post by Octavio Skorzeny on Dec 7, 2019 14:02:00 GMT -8
The Knight went on musing to himself about the nature of the desert and it aesthetics, wondering why it was such a colour, from whence it came and why some of the powerful bastards pretending to be stewards of the overworld didn't do something about it. Shick, shick, shick, went the noise of the great morningstar hitting the sand.
Octavio didn't have to turn around to know the sudden influx of undead into the scene and he stopped, shouldering the shaft of his great maul and turning around. "I'm glad for you!" The Paladin announced after Azra'il's words. He gave a few spins of the great weapon with the same whump whump as before, then shouldering it again. "Well, those don't look very friendly." Octavio stretched leisurely, looking between his colleague and the suddenly appeared creatures of the desert. "We can do something about them. Or we can just leave them I suppose, I reckon I can with a hearty jog outrun them and those bones might be dead-old but they don't look to elderly, eh?" he jested, nudging the woman with an elbow. "Though I reckon they'll eventually catch up to us, and I'm not sure I'd like to have them come from behind if we're in the middle of some other nonsense. Whatever you decide I suppose I could go for a run or for a clobbering in equal measure."
|
|
Azra'il
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: With skin as white as death and eyes of ethereal blue, there is an unmistakable otherworldliness to her immediate figure. The once good and benevolent monk corrupted by unfathomable dark forces. Azra'il wears the monk robes from her past life, dyed black, signifying her personal fall from grace, and wears her black hair in an up-do, with shaved sides. The same as it was in life, yet forever changed in un-life.
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 22:16:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Azra'il on Dec 10, 2019 22:55:26 GMT -8
"Indeed," Azra'il smirked at the irony behind the words. Although the undead didn't look very friendly, neither did they. She wasn't too keen on the elbow nudge, however, and frowned. Azra'il turned on the bodies that emerged from the sands, hands clasped together as if in prayer. Like a barren tree planted by streams of blackwater, Azra'il weighed the dark aura flowing from the bodies, measuring their shadows with her own. What she found was an abyssal void whose depth seemed immeasurable, and therefore uncontrollable.
"These creatures are merely fragments of a greater source," Azra'il muttered with dissatisfaction, "best to take care of them here, and now, lest we are to be consumed, as well."
|
|
The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
|
Post by The Raconteur on Dec 10, 2019 23:12:39 GMT -8
The Consumed, noticing that neither of their targets are going to run, charge at Azra'il and Octavio.
It seems to the both of them that The Consumed were merely shambling on purpose, and suddenly break into full sprint, almost attempting to tackle their targets with their weapons.
What's more, more of them rise from the flanks a short distance away, some even directly underneath in an attempt to hinder the movement of the Azra'il and Octavio.
|
|
Octavio Skorzeny
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Visually indeterminate
Physical Description: As writ above, it is hard to tell the age of Octavio. He is certainly well past twenties and even thirties, but without any hair on his head and no wrinkles one would be hard pressed to pin him down as old. A long scar runs down the right side of his face lining up in it so perfectly one could believe it was placed intentionally by an artist. He's well above above ordinary human height to be impossible to hide in crowds, with oxen like shoulders removing any doubt of this. His skin is the colour of sand tinted by the sunset shade within his eyes. Despite being clearly a warrior, the rest of his perfected body seems to be free of any blemishes, scars or markings
Clothes and Equipment: A set of blessed full plate with the chainmail and gambeson usually expected to accompany it. Born in his hands will be a a great two handed evening star, down his belt will be a dagger and a Sword in scabbard. Across his back a crossbow will be slung, and who knows how many more weapons are concealed about his person.
Registered: Nov 10, 2019 17:56:42 GMT -8
|
Post by Octavio Skorzeny on Dec 14, 2019 19:16:10 GMT -8
Octavio looked at the business with her hands his colleague was doing, and shrugged. To each their own. "Interesting." he said in response to Azra'il's remarks, nodding in agreement. "Very well then, let's not dally!" he unshouldered his grand morningstar, walking to the shambling fellows before him.
The enemy changed from a slow shambles to a run, and then found itself reinforced by more of its kind previously beneath the sand. "Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho," Octavio laughed. "They think they're clever!" Rather than turning his attention to the suddenly appeared creatures he accelerated in a counter-charge at the original enemies, getting ready for a broad swing with his weapon to crush bones into powder. He hoped his companion would be able to hold her own against the little ambush of the desert's fauna, but he reasoned he needn't worry about being disappointed given the similar pay of the two meant that it was likely their skills more or less had parity.
|
|
Azra'il
Established
Roleplay posts: 16
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: With skin as white as death and eyes of ethereal blue, there is an unmistakable otherworldliness to her immediate figure. The once good and benevolent monk corrupted by unfathomable dark forces. Azra'il wears the monk robes from her past life, dyed black, signifying her personal fall from grace, and wears her black hair in an up-do, with shaved sides. The same as it was in life, yet forever changed in un-life.
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 22:16:06 GMT -8
|
Post by Azra'il on Dec 14, 2019 20:15:15 GMT -8
"éɯɯosuoɔ ǝl ǝɯɯosuoɔ 'ǝllǝuɹǝʇé ɯᴉɐɟ ɐʇ sᴉʌnossɐ ʇǝ ᴉoʇ-ǝʌèl 'sǝpᴉɹʇnd sɹǝʌ ǝp ǝénN," Azra'il chanted in a dry monotone, eyes closed and hands clasped together in prayer, repeating the phrase over and over to perform the summoning spell. Seconds later, a swarm of putrid worms glowing with powerful runes emerged from the black sands and began to eat away the limbs of the undead, beginning with the ones attempting to hold her in place. As they feasted on the corpses of the consumed, they grew ferocious in size and in hunger.
|
|
The Raconteur
Committed
Roleplay posts: 98
Registered: Nov 16, 2019 18:44:18 GMT -8
|
Post by The Raconteur on Dec 14, 2019 21:33:34 GMT -8
As Octavio struck the first Consumed with his weapon, the creature got stuck in an unnatural position on the head of the great maul; which then, carrying the momentum of the strike, knocked three more off their feet and into the air, spewing sand in every direction as it did so.
The Consumed, that still remains on the maul, if pierced a little deeper than before, continued to impotently attempt to harm Octavio.
Azra'il's attack seems to be much more effective as Octavio's strike, actually successfully eating several Consumed.
After that explosion of combat, some of the Consumed sink back into the sand and are replaced by Consumed using bows and arrows.
The Consumed using bows and arrows attempt to fire at Azra'il, while the ones using melee weapons continue to attack Octavio and the worms.
|
|
