Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 15:58:01 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2016 22:13:43 GMT -8
Ema's gaze flicked up to the nasty-looking clouds above with their green magical lightning, and she grimaced. "We have seen no sign of the undead yet, but a very unnatural storm front just rolled in. It has green lightning. I think I should confer with the General immediately. I will keep you posted as things progress." With that, she darted back into the command pavilion, flinging the flaps aside and fixing Cyronin with a very serious look. "Those clouds are here, and they look like very bad news. Some sort of green magical lightning. I think that assault is about to literally drop down upon our heads." And it did. A wash of rain infused with magic began to pour down across the desert. It soaked through the sands seeking things buried and forgotten. |
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Yerazin
New
Ambassador for Belrow to The land Tiller State
Roleplay posts: 9 
Physical Description: Tall and foreboding Yerazin, like the rest of his kind, where all cursed with immortality. As such, his body now gives the appearance of being a walking corpse, his flesh dry and a husk.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing the traditional robes of his people Yerazin wears a long white robe that covers most of his body. Although this piece of cloth has been with him for thousands of years, it has only a decent amount of wear.
Player's online availability : Most Days
Registered: Apr 22, 2016 20:16:24 GMT -8
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Post by Yerazin on May 30, 2016 22:39:53 GMT -8
Yerazin felt it.
He had felt them coming in the Chancery in the fields of belonging. At first he thought it was his imagination but it became to strong for that. It was real. The terrible magic was drawing near. When he put down his baking tools and rode as fast as he could to the disturbance along with his undead guardians. He could feel the very air become heavy with the power of the dead. When he finally arrived at the far eastern desert border he could see it, a dark cloud on the horizon. If his reports from the front lines where correct. The dead will soon rise, unlike himself these would be puppets serving a higher purpose.
It then began to rain. An unnatural rain, laden with magic.
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Cyronin the Blue
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: 28
Physical Description: Trying.
Clothes and Equipment: https://imgur.com/a/sIpRe
Player's online availability : Often?
Registered: Nov 9, 2015 2:04:16 GMT -8
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Post by Cyronin the Blue on May 31, 2016 21:55:46 GMT -8
Before Emahra was given a chance to leave the tent, Cyronin's voice rang out arrestingly. He wore a mightily displeased expression, as one would if one was in his place.
"Emahra, why in the name of all the bloody gods above and below this land is there a necromancer in my tent?" His tone was deceptively soft and quiet, like the calm before a storm. "Why would it be a sensible or logical thing to bring a reanimatior into our camp when we're about to fight against reanimations? What went through your mind and said, 'oh, yes, this is a great idea!'?"
He completely ignored any attempt at conversation from Valerian, staring towards Emahra. He did not trust the woman - after all, she had appeared from nowhere and been made one of Naoki's lieutenants in the shortest period of time.
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Emahra Untyrid
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 276 
Age: 158
Physical Description: Like all of the Kehl-Nari Elves, Emahra is tall and of a slender build, standing at 5'10" and covered in the toned muscles that come from a lifetime of training in the way of the sword. Her skin is fair, and she bears the elegant bone structure and pointed ears of the Elvenkind, that lend her a nearly breathtaking beauty. Her hair is long, falling to mid-thigh when unbound, and is a bright, vivid shade of blue, although she habitually wears it bound back into an intricate plait. Her eyes are a rich, liquid amber-gold that that are, much like her expressive facial features, usually filled with whatever she may be thinking or feeling at that moment. While not amply endowed, like many women, she has a respectably-sized bosom, a trim waist, and shapely hips, accentuated by long, graceful legs.
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Clothes and Equipment: Typically, Emahra wears one of two ensembles. The one most commonly seen consists of tight-fitting dark blue breeches that are tucked into a pair of knee-high black leather boots, paired with a black brocade corset, and detached black lace sleeves that cover her arms from just below the shoulder to the base of her fingers, leaving them and her thumbs exposed. All of these items are painstakingly inlaid with runes of protection sewn in magical thread, that make them as strong as armor and spell-resistant. The other outfit is far more casual and lacking in protective enchantments, comprised of a pair of low-slung pants that are tight around the hips and upper thighs, but start to billow out at mid-thigh, to then gather again at the ankle; a sleeveless, midriff-baring top; and a set of comfortable slippers, all made of silky white material that never stains, tears, or wrinkles. These are paired with a sash the same color blue as her hair that she wears wound around her hips. Regardless of her attire, at all times, she wears a slim golden band around her brow that bears a single smooth, teardrop-shaped gem of darkest sapphire; this circlet bears an enchantment similar to the ones inscribed into her normal attire. Whichever set of clothing she isn't wearing at the time makes its home in a plain black pack which she carries, that also houses basic supplies such as a healer's kit and travel rations. She also carries with her at all times the Heirloom Blade of her House, the Blade of Ankiri. Its blade is five feet long, and it bears a hilt of blue leather above a golden crossguard, its pommel inlaid with a deep sapphire blue gem that seems infused with an inner light; at its crossguard is a blue flame, the sigil of House Untyrid. This Blade can be wielded only by one of the blood of House Untyrid, and will burn the hands of anyone else who attempts to wield it, before seeking to return to its owner by whatever means possible. It also has the capability to manipulate the wind and, in trained hands, can create storms of cataclysmic proportions; at the great expense of the one who wields it, it can, under extreme conditions, play with the rules of time.
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Allegiances: Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Evenings. (EST)
Registered: Apr 28, 2016 0:02:46 GMT -8
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Post by Emahra Untyrid on May 31, 2016 22:07:00 GMT -8
The Elf turned a flat look on Cyronin, arching a brow. Was he serious right now? "He has no ill intentions - I can discern that much. Having a necromancer on our side may prove useful in harnessing the undead that are turned against us and instead turning them back on their former fellows, thus bolstering our numbers while depleting theirs. I, for one, cannot do such a thing, but if this man can - and I have no reason to doubt his word or his abilities - that would prove immensely valuable. On top of that, if he proves himself here, his other capabilities as an experienced seaman will prove useful to Lady Naoki after this whole fiasco, so consider this giving him a chance to prove himself worthy of serving Isra. Besides, if he tries to betray us, we far outnumber him and could most likely overpower him with a fair amount of ease. Now, what are we going to do about the unholy magical storm out there and whatever it may dredge up, hm? I would think that is of far greater importance." She looked at Cyronin blandly. His move.
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Cyronin the Blue
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: 28
Physical Description: Trying.
Clothes and Equipment: https://imgur.com/a/sIpRe
Player's online availability : Often?
Registered: Nov 9, 2015 2:04:16 GMT -8
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Post by Cyronin the Blue on May 31, 2016 23:18:44 GMT -8
The arched elvish eyebrow was met with two frowning human ones. "You can _discern_ his intentions, now? How exactly have you managed that? Not to mention the fact that you think one necromancer who seems to do poorly at it as is, judging by the tattered state of the rat on his shoulder, has any hope over an arcane who killed an entire city in one night? I have absolute reason to doubt his capability in the face of such adversity, and I doubt your judgement, too, if you do not! Why would Naoki want a seaman? We're a landlocked nation. You seem to have no idea of where you live, not to mention the fact that you seem to have mythically magicked up an Isran navy from the aether."
Did she really just contradict herself in such a manner? It would seem Cyronin was right to not trust her - she was either incompetent or ignorant.
"If he betrayed us, surely he would just use his incredible abilities you professed earlier to 'turn our men back against their former fellows, bolstering his number while depleting ours'. I mean, if he can stand up to the necromancer who slaughtered an entire city, I am terrified to imagine what he could do amongst our numbers. As for the storm, I have already dispatched orders amongst the camps to prepare for an onslaught - in fact, that is what I was doing as you entered the room. Seeing as I've already dealt to that, why don't we get back to the issue at hand?"
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 15:58:01 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2016 8:59:47 GMT -8
The rain snaked through the sand, searching deep, until it found what is sought. A virulent sea of corpses, dead from a forgotten battle of a bygone age.... The people above would feel it. The ground shaking slightly as the undead dug themselves out of the earth and into the sand above it. The scrambled through, draging their ancient arms and armor through the wet send until their undead bones tasted the air once again. The shambled together, a force of skeletal warriors and archers.  |
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Emahra Untyrid
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 276
Age: 158
Physical Description: Like all of the Kehl-Nari Elves, Emahra is tall and of a slender build, standing at 5'10" and covered in the toned muscles that come from a lifetime of training in the way of the sword. Her skin is fair, and she bears the elegant bone structure and pointed ears of the Elvenkind, that lend her a nearly breathtaking beauty. Her hair is long, falling to mid-thigh when unbound, and is a bright, vivid shade of blue, although she habitually wears it bound back into an intricate plait. Her eyes are a rich, liquid amber-gold that that are, much like her expressive facial features, usually filled with whatever she may be thinking or feeling at that moment. While not amply endowed, like many women, she has a respectably-sized bosom, a trim waist, and shapely hips, accentuated by long, graceful legs.
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Clothes and Equipment: Typically, Emahra wears one of two ensembles. The one most commonly seen consists of tight-fitting dark blue breeches that are tucked into a pair of knee-high black leather boots, paired with a black brocade corset, and detached black lace sleeves that cover her arms from just below the shoulder to the base of her fingers, leaving them and her thumbs exposed. All of these items are painstakingly inlaid with runes of protection sewn in magical thread, that make them as strong as armor and spell-resistant. The other outfit is far more casual and lacking in protective enchantments, comprised of a pair of low-slung pants that are tight around the hips and upper thighs, but start to billow out at mid-thigh, to then gather again at the ankle; a sleeveless, midriff-baring top; and a set of comfortable slippers, all made of silky white material that never stains, tears, or wrinkles. These are paired with a sash the same color blue as her hair that she wears wound around her hips. Regardless of her attire, at all times, she wears a slim golden band around her brow that bears a single smooth, teardrop-shaped gem of darkest sapphire; this circlet bears an enchantment similar to the ones inscribed into her normal attire. Whichever set of clothing she isn't wearing at the time makes its home in a plain black pack which she carries, that also houses basic supplies such as a healer's kit and travel rations. She also carries with her at all times the Heirloom Blade of her House, the Blade of Ankiri. Its blade is five feet long, and it bears a hilt of blue leather above a golden crossguard, its pommel inlaid with a deep sapphire blue gem that seems infused with an inner light; at its crossguard is a blue flame, the sigil of House Untyrid. This Blade can be wielded only by one of the blood of House Untyrid, and will burn the hands of anyone else who attempts to wield it, before seeking to return to its owner by whatever means possible. It also has the capability to manipulate the wind and, in trained hands, can create storms of cataclysmic proportions; at the great expense of the one who wields it, it can, under extreme conditions, play with the rules of time.
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Allegiances: Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Evenings. (EST)
Registered: Apr 28, 2016 0:02:46 GMT -8
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Post by Emahra Untyrid on Jun 1, 2016 9:41:11 GMT -8
Emahra bristled, to the point where it almost looked as though the blue of her braid fluffed out in anger. Normally, the Elf was pleasant and friendly, but Cyronin speaking to her in such a way had incited her ire quite easily. Her ears tilted back slightly, and her jaw set as golden eyes flashed angrily, arms folding across her chest. "Naoki would want a seaman because of her intent to create an Isran Navy. And how in the bloody hell can you say Isra is landlocked when there is a damned ocean directly west, and the blasted river connects to it? I have no idea the scope of his abilities, and you are taking my words and twisting them to suit your own purposes, which appear to be nothing else than to verbally assault me for reasons unknown. As for his intentions, when you have been alive as long as I have, you become a rather good judge of character - right now I trust him more than I do you, you thoroughly unpleasant and argumentative ass. If you do not wish to utilize him, then I will damn well do so myself."
Her gaze turned to Valerian, then, and she stepped back out of the tent's entryway, holding the flaps open and gesturing for the necromancer to accompany her. She was washing her hands of Cyronin, that much was obvious. "If you would kindly accompany me, Admiral Kastimeer, it would appear that we have an attack to respond to." Seeing as the sands were shifting and the undead were rising from beneath them. Once he'd joined her outside, she pulled free the sword at her hip, which hummed with magic, and lowered her voice, making her next comments confidential to the spear-wielding man alone. "I have put myself on the line for you. Please do not make me eat my words."
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Post by Land Tillers' State on Jun 1, 2016 10:25:30 GMT -8
As the undead began to rise out of the desert, they would receive a warm welcome.
The mines the falcon corp had laid down would start to detonate. Each mine would take a small group of undead. Mostly fire, raw mana, and acid were represented out on the fields, making a red, green, and purple fire works display in broad day light.
Of course knowing the undead, this would probably not be enough to stop them. All the mages, including the falcon corps, began to gather energy. (Charge 1) The other mercenaries stood at the ready. Archers drew their longbows and pulled back, waiting for them to get into range. The melee warriors and their fiery weapons formed a tooth-like line at the edge of the desert.
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Cyronin the Blue
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: 28
Physical Description: Trying.
Clothes and Equipment: https://imgur.com/a/sIpRe
Player's online availability : Often?
Registered: Nov 9, 2015 2:04:16 GMT -8
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Post by Cyronin the Blue on Jun 1, 2016 12:37:03 GMT -8
Cyronin drummed the tips of his fingers against the table, accidentally destroying the map simultaneously. Now, he was _really_ annoyed.
"You will both leave my camp, and any Isran camp along this fortification. You are preventing me from completing my job to the fullest. You can either walk away voluntarily, or I will have you removed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a border to defend."
He swept through the large, open doorway behind the two, leaving them in the room with the mages and warriors who were assisting Cyronin as a part of his legion. They would most certainly escort the two from the camp if they didn't leave themselves.
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Valerian Kastimeer
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 32
Physical Description: Valerian is of average height at 5'10", with the lean build of a climber and fighter. Black hair is kept cut fairly short, with the bangs hanging over his brow but not quite in his eyes and the rest roughly matching that theme. His eyes are black, with iris and pupil indistinguishable from each other. Valerian looks young for his age, often taken to be five or more years younger than he in fact is. Typically on his shoulder, but sometimes in a pocket, is the undead squirrel companion that Valerian has named "Rupert."
Clothes and Equipment: ---------------------------------------------
Valerian is almost constantly clad in a semi-formal blue uniform, complete with award ribbons, a gold command braid, and shoulder and collar rank insignia. The uniform can include a long black coat in inclement weather. It is exceedingly rare for Valerian to be seen without his weapon; a broad-headed spear of variable properties. At times it is standard length for a battle spear, comfortably wielded in two hands and impossible to wield with one; at others it is short enough to use one-handed. Similar to the spear, Valerian is never seen without the white gloves he wears -- those gloves bear some arcane symbol on the back of the hand. Rounding out his equipment is an assortment of pouches in pockets and occasionally on his belt, their contents mostly as mysterious as the symbol on his gloves.
Player's online availability : Varies.
Registered: May 4, 2016 20:26:48 GMT -8
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Post by Valerian Kastimeer on Jun 1, 2016 18:54:05 GMT -8
"You're right, clearly the buffoon who isn't even aware of his country's geography has this under control. I'm sure he's a stellar general, well-studied in strategy despite his inability to read a map. Now yes, I will leave -- and I will inform your Lady of your lack of both knowledge and control. I'll refrain from speculating that perhaps fear was the source." Those words were spoken before the General turned to leave, in a cold tone and with a condescending expression.
And with that, Valerian spun on his heel and strode from the tent. Those legionaries would receive a glare as he did so, a warning that to lay hands on him would be most unwise -- not that it was needed. He was indeed making decent speed in his walk out of the camp, though black tendrils began to writhe around his unoccupied right hand as he neared the camp's perimeter. Emahra, if she kept up with him, would likely hear his mutter of, "Though if that idiot is one of her generals I'm not sure I want to be in her service after all," that almost certainly had been meant for himself. Or maybe Rupert, who actually was quite intact for something that had been reanimated just under a decade ago.
Assuming he left the camp unmolested, it was a fairly short walk to what he had sensed -- the mostly-hidden bones of a long-dead horse some poor fool had ridden into this desert. Seeming to realize that she had followed him, Valerian turned and spoke -- annoyance still clear in his voice, though not aimed at the quite diplomatic elf. "Do you have a mount, or will we be riding double?"
That question was punctuated with a snap of his fingers... and, after a moment, the skeleton began to struggle its way out of the sand, bringing itself in moments into a standard standing position for a living horse. The bones remembered, usually. Valerian was quick to climb on... and the skeletal horse was away, pretty easily keeping pace with the living one Emahra rode.
<exit>
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Emahra Untyrid
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 276
Age: 158
Physical Description: Like all of the Kehl-Nari Elves, Emahra is tall and of a slender build, standing at 5'10" and covered in the toned muscles that come from a lifetime of training in the way of the sword. Her skin is fair, and she bears the elegant bone structure and pointed ears of the Elvenkind, that lend her a nearly breathtaking beauty. Her hair is long, falling to mid-thigh when unbound, and is a bright, vivid shade of blue, although she habitually wears it bound back into an intricate plait. Her eyes are a rich, liquid amber-gold that that are, much like her expressive facial features, usually filled with whatever she may be thinking or feeling at that moment. While not amply endowed, like many women, she has a respectably-sized bosom, a trim waist, and shapely hips, accentuated by long, graceful legs.
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Clothes and Equipment: Typically, Emahra wears one of two ensembles. The one most commonly seen consists of tight-fitting dark blue breeches that are tucked into a pair of knee-high black leather boots, paired with a black brocade corset, and detached black lace sleeves that cover her arms from just below the shoulder to the base of her fingers, leaving them and her thumbs exposed. All of these items are painstakingly inlaid with runes of protection sewn in magical thread, that make them as strong as armor and spell-resistant. The other outfit is far more casual and lacking in protective enchantments, comprised of a pair of low-slung pants that are tight around the hips and upper thighs, but start to billow out at mid-thigh, to then gather again at the ankle; a sleeveless, midriff-baring top; and a set of comfortable slippers, all made of silky white material that never stains, tears, or wrinkles. These are paired with a sash the same color blue as her hair that she wears wound around her hips. Regardless of her attire, at all times, she wears a slim golden band around her brow that bears a single smooth, teardrop-shaped gem of darkest sapphire; this circlet bears an enchantment similar to the ones inscribed into her normal attire. Whichever set of clothing she isn't wearing at the time makes its home in a plain black pack which she carries, that also houses basic supplies such as a healer's kit and travel rations. She also carries with her at all times the Heirloom Blade of her House, the Blade of Ankiri. Its blade is five feet long, and it bears a hilt of blue leather above a golden crossguard, its pommel inlaid with a deep sapphire blue gem that seems infused with an inner light; at its crossguard is a blue flame, the sigil of House Untyrid. This Blade can be wielded only by one of the blood of House Untyrid, and will burn the hands of anyone else who attempts to wield it, before seeking to return to its owner by whatever means possible. It also has the capability to manipulate the wind and, in trained hands, can create storms of cataclysmic proportions; at the great expense of the one who wields it, it can, under extreme conditions, play with the rules of time.
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Allegiances: Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Evenings. (EST)
Registered: Apr 28, 2016 0:02:46 GMT -8
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Post by Emahra Untyrid on Jun 1, 2016 19:09:23 GMT -8
Emahra's expression quickly fell into one that was both blank and cool - frosty, even. She turned and half-followed Cyronin out of the tent as he departed, and after Valerian offered his parting words to the 'general' - which earned him a quick, approving glance from the blue-haired Elf - she turned those frigid golden eyes upon the other man once more, and spoke in clipped tones. Anger enhanced her accent, making the rolling R's more pronounced and the elongated vowels a bit more harsh.
"Oh you are correct, general, I will be leaving - but not because of your 'command'. You have no authority over me, and I would be quite within the realm of my orders to completely ignore you and remain. However, I have no desire to remain within the close proximity of someone who is incapable of being reasonable, let alone polite." Naoki would definitely be hearing about this. She turned briskly on her heel and moved to the horse lines, retrieving her white mare where she was tied up with the others. Leading her along, she caught up to Valerian quickly, just in time to catch his words. She cast him a look that said, 'They're not all that bad', paired with a tilt of her lips. When he summoned the horse bones, she easily pulled herself up onto her mare's back and settled in, giving the necromancer a look.
"Let us be on our way." She heeled the mare into a canter, and got in touch with Alden and Naoki while she was at it. They needed to hear about what had transpired.
<Exit>
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 15:58:01 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2016 0:05:34 GMT -8
Several undead were destroyed, there bones so ancient that the explosions turned them to dust. Still in a numerous horde that was still growing, they started meandering toward the living. There were no archers among the dead, just warriors in old rusted armor.
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Isra - Military
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Registered: Apr 28, 2016 15:55:26 GMT -8
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Post by Isra - Military on Jun 2, 2016 1:17:47 GMT -8
The loose wall that the Isranian legion had built were fortified now with archers standing atop them, bows drawn back waiting for the enemy to step in range. Mounted knights rode up and down the lines, preparing themselves for what was to come. Elite mages stood beside the archers, readying their magic for the coming onslaught. (Charge turn 1) Infantrymen stood shoulder-to-shoulder, making up the space between the knights on the front lines.
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Post by Land Tillers' State on Jun 2, 2016 17:18:43 GMT -8
While the mages continued to charge their power (charge 2), the falcon corps unleashed their falcons. Like in Aaedan, the falcons were enveloped in a fiery aura that allowed them to dive bomb the forces with devastating effect, both directly and with area of effect fire blasts that radiated from their bodies.
The mounted archers would start to fire and pick off any undead they saw. Their arrows would penetrate lighter armor and completely shatter large segments of bone. Such was the power of their longbows.
The melee mercenaries continued to stand by. They fully expected things to get much worse as time when on.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 15:58:01 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2016 10:27:55 GMT -8
The falcons would dive into the horde and take out undead, one by one. Just as effective as in Aaedan. However something more troublesome was happening. Behind the Isran wall more dead were rising. A hand coming up and grabbing Cyronin the Blue's leg. And a far more troublesome issue, an rather strong earthquake rocked the dessert. The Isran wall would likely shift, soldiers would stumble and fall. Something big was rising from the deepest parts of the desert. |
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Cyronin the Blue
Committed
Roleplay posts: 61
Age: 28
Physical Description: Trying.
Clothes and Equipment: https://imgur.com/a/sIpRe
Player's online availability : Often?
Registered: Nov 9, 2015 2:04:16 GMT -8
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Post by Cyronin the Blue on Jun 3, 2016 13:42:21 GMT -8
The second the hand made contact with Cyronin's leg, it went limp, losing all necromantic power instantly. He drew his sword, running through the camp towards the wall, hacking and slashing at anything that got in the way with the deadly sharp blade. Once he reached the wall, that now shifted and collapsed, he looked down the lines, seeing Generals Smythe and Tanner standing to attention with their legions.
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Isra - Military
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Registered: Apr 28, 2016 15:55:26 GMT -8
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Post by Isra - Military on Jun 3, 2016 13:46:07 GMT -8
The mounted Knights held tight rein, awaiting anything large to come forth, while the archers loosed a hail of arrows, some enchanted with holy fire. They were aware of what they were going to face, and had come prepared. The standard infantrymen stood behind their shield-wall, shortswords at the ready.
Cyronon's own Legion formed up behind him, the mages continuing to charge their spells (c2) and the warriors spread loosely, each handling his bastard sword like a veteran.
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Post by Land Tillers' State on Jun 3, 2016 13:58:28 GMT -8
Alarmed, the mercenaries suddenly swung around and began to attack the undead that were striking beneath their feet. This was definitely not good!
The mounted mages held their lines and continued to charge mana as best they could, even while their mounts stomped and crunched the undead beneath their feet. A few of them were forced to release their charges and fire blasts of energy and heat at the undead, or project holy spells to help protect them. The rest called out for help from the mercenaries while they maintained their channeling. (Net charge 2)
Some of the archers switched their short bows to better function at melee range. They sought to help Cyronin's forces stave off the ambush.
In the distance, blasts of fire from the hawks would continue to slow the advance of the undead hoard. A split second after each bright burst would come a pop. The whole thing would sound like a giant kettle of popcorn was being made in the distance.
But the earthquake did not bode well. Who knew what else was hiding in the desert sands from bygone ages?
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 15:58:01 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2016 15:21:28 GMT -8
Suddenly in the middle of the horde well outside of the living's now shattered defenses the sands began to rise, swallowing the dead once more. It did no matter. The entity of the undead had found a champion. Something to end the living's siege of Aaedan and spearhead the attacks on the rest of the world. The sands rose up like a mountain, its granules flowing like a sea swallowing all its path as a dragon, the size of Va'nei Dha'zhi, Earthwarden but bulkier than her slender form, erupted from the sands. Green lightning cascading hit, funneling its powers into the undead creature. As the magic coursed through it turned purple, reacting with the magic in the ancient dragon bones.  Its massive wings blocked out what little sun was shining through the storm clouds, only cascading arcs of purple lightning and the gree glowing magics keeping the undead soldiers moving provided light for the living to fight by. |
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Yerazin
New
Ambassador for Belrow to The land Tiller State
Roleplay posts: 9
Physical Description: Tall and foreboding Yerazin, like the rest of his kind, where all cursed with immortality. As such, his body now gives the appearance of being a walking corpse, his flesh dry and a husk.
Clothes and Equipment: Wearing the traditional robes of his people Yerazin wears a long white robe that covers most of his body. Although this piece of cloth has been with him for thousands of years, it has only a decent amount of wear.
Player's online availability : Most Days
Registered: Apr 22, 2016 20:16:24 GMT -8
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Post by Yerazin on Jun 3, 2016 21:47:48 GMT -8
Yerazin had felt it rising to the surface of the sands. From a by gone area a dragons bones laid beneath these sands. His men and him both were in the thick of the fighting, striking as one the undead guardians stabbed at the rising dead. Their blazing green tipped pikes incinerating the dead as they jabbed. Yerazin was sporting a Khopesh made of bronze and black stone, it slid through the dried bones of the dead like a blade through water. Although he was a diplomat, all had seen combat during the time of slavery, so he knew how to fight. Yerazin's robes swirling around him as his undead body moved like water across the sands.
A thunderous sound was heard as the skeletal dragon broke free from its sandy prison. Rising out of the earth and blocking out the sun with its massive bony wings. Corrupted by foul magic, glowing purple it was a sight to behold. Falling back with this guardians surrounding him Yerazin began to channel his mediocre amount of magic into a soul scream. It would hopefully disorientate the dragon and the rising dead for the few crucial seconds needed to form a protective counter charge.
(1 turn remaining for soul scream)
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