Kinzokan Krypt
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 129 
Physical Description: Kinzokan Krypt is a seven foot tall beast of muscle, violent scars and a wild mane of dark hair. Almost legendary for his status as a veteran of many battlefields, Krypt is known for his exceptional skill and combat prowess and because of his dark, ashen-coloured skin he is referred to in mercenary circles as "Kinzokan the Black".
He originally hailed from a volcanic land devastated by fire, brimstone, magma and ash and as such, his people are known as the Ashkin. Due to spending their entire lives surrounded by scorching heat and with little water that isn't boiling or steamed, the Ashkin are nigh impervious to fire and its effects and their skin has thus thickened and hardened into an almost naturally armoured hide. Such is the toughness of an Ashkin that only the sharpest of weapons, or the strongest of their wielders, could cut deep and hard enough to draw blood or cause serious injury. Yet in the volcanic wastes, such a defense isn't only advantageous, but necessary - for each day would bring the Ashkin tribes into contact with the aggressive, giant, reptilian monsters who ruled the ashlands as ever-starving kings.
Registered: Nov 10, 2015 20:24:36 GMT -8
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Ek'zek
May 30, 2016 10:01:35 GMT -8
Post by Kinzokan Krypt on May 30, 2016 10:01:35 GMT -8
Ek'zek is a small tribal village nestled deep in The Norkari Mountains, where few travellers visit and the men and women who live tranquil lives tending livestock, eating and sleeping. The inhabitants are a race of beastmen who call themselves Ice Trolls, for they are large, lumbering creatures of muscle and white fur. Surprisingly they are peaceful, many of them scared of combat.
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Kinzokan Krypt
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 129
Physical Description: Kinzokan Krypt is a seven foot tall beast of muscle, violent scars and a wild mane of dark hair. Almost legendary for his status as a veteran of many battlefields, Krypt is known for his exceptional skill and combat prowess and because of his dark, ashen-coloured skin he is referred to in mercenary circles as "Kinzokan the Black".
He originally hailed from a volcanic land devastated by fire, brimstone, magma and ash and as such, his people are known as the Ashkin. Due to spending their entire lives surrounded by scorching heat and with little water that isn't boiling or steamed, the Ashkin are nigh impervious to fire and its effects and their skin has thus thickened and hardened into an almost naturally armoured hide. Such is the toughness of an Ashkin that only the sharpest of weapons, or the strongest of their wielders, could cut deep and hard enough to draw blood or cause serious injury. Yet in the volcanic wastes, such a defense isn't only advantageous, but necessary - for each day would bring the Ashkin tribes into contact with the aggressive, giant, reptilian monsters who ruled the ashlands as ever-starving kings.
Registered: Nov 10, 2015 20:24:36 GMT -8
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Ek'zek
May 30, 2016 10:29:20 GMT -8
Post by Kinzokan Krypt on May 30, 2016 10:29:20 GMT -8
A horn sounded over the plateau of ice, where dozens of sheet-white creatures in the form of men without weapons or armour began to spill into view over the ridge and charge down towards a settlement of wood and stone cabins. The local inhabitants, many of whom already outside, soon looked up at the approaching enemy and let out groaning shrills of warning while huddling children together behind a wall of parents.
It was so strange watching them act like that, Krypt thought as he climbed atop the plateau and watched as the squadrons of ice soldiers came down upon the helpless villagers. Helpless.. Yet large, more than twice the size of Krypt who himself was taller than the tallest of men. Even their children had enough muscle to tear ten men into pieces like dolls, while their parents were surely walking weapons of siege warfare.
Yet, even as the ice soldiers began to hit and stab and slash at the adult villager population with their own broken limbs, they barely fought back. Many cried, screamed or tried to swat helplessly yet the few warriors they had were far too few and against far too great a number to do anything more than be martyrs. The remaining? Merely lambs to the slaughter, with enough meat to feed a battalion.
Oh yes, the children were spared. They would be easy to train, easy to control, easy to lead on the path of war he needed them for. Some families managed to escape over the distant hills as the raid died down, yet Krypt issued no such orders to follow them. Let them escape he thought, as he watched the nearly two dozen young ones captured by his men forced up the mountain towards him. Many cried and growled, but most were too in shock and too afraid to do anything else.
"We return to Neia's castle," he exclaimed, before turning to lead the march home. Ten minutes later, the small raiding force and their captive ice troll slaves would be out of sight of the village... Which was now deathly silent, with blood staining the snow that surrounded those that remained.
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Ek'zek
Jun 1, 2016 7:25:45 GMT -8
Post by Lord Inquisitor Iraxen on Jun 1, 2016 7:25:45 GMT -8
The red stained snow of Ek'zek village crunched under the steel boots of twenty men armoured from head to toe, with a twenty-first man leading the column from the front with a considerably more imposing and commanding look about him. His white hair was short, his face covered by a mask depicting an extreme smile and a great long-coat fell about his ankles from his shoulders to shield him from the blizzards so common in those mountains.
The village was deserted now, except for the corpses of the fallen which had frozen in the extreme temperatures that caked them in a layer of bright blue ice. Crouching down and snapping the finger from one of the ice trolls, he examined it curiously between his own fingers and then stood up to gaze across the village square while a gust of wind blew snow drifts through the street. "Sergeant," he finally spoke with a voice concealed by his mask, "enter the tomb and see to it that the artefact is undisturbed."
The armoured man besides him nodded, then gestured for three more men to follow him into the street and towards a raised mound in the centre between several buildings. Once there, they circled around it to the rear until the signs of disturbed snow not yet fully covered by the falls became apparent to their eyes. He pointed towards it, then one of his men moved forwards and began to dig out the snow until a slanted stone door was revealed like a hatch in the floor. The door was taken by the handle, then pulled open into the open to reveal the dark stairway leading down. "We enter together," the sergeant ordered, a hand signal spurring his men into a formation whereby the swordsman with a crest shield took the front with board raised, while a second men took cover behind him with a crossbow aimed over his shoulder. The third stood back as reserve, while the sergeant himself took command from the rear. "Check the building for heretics. If any are found, eliminate them!" He then exclaimed, before the four men entered and disappeared into the dark.
Back outside, the man with the long coat stood watch over the village while the rest of the men entered and checked for survivors and any possibly remaining hostile presence. Highly trained and disciplined, the inquisitors cleared the buildings immaculately; often entering from multiple places at once to maximize the chances of success against any possible threat. However, when none were found in any of the village's buildings, their commander walked into the masked-man's view and gave him a simple nod that told a hundred words. The man nodded in return, then the men moved to the outskirts of the village and took up positions on high-ground to survey their surroundings.
It wasn't long until the four men earlier sent to the mount returned from it, an ice troll youngling escorted out from the darkness of the hidden passage and over to where the man in charge of the entire operation stood watching. Pushed in front of him, the white and hairy beast stood shaking while the sergeant moved around to explain the situation. "We found him inside with a deceased older one, but the artefact was missing from the shrine."
The masked man gave no answer, merely looking at the creature as though gazing into it's soul for the truth.
"Should we question it, Lord Inquisitor?"
"Yes, do so. You commune in their language do you not?"
"Yes sir, I will do so now," the sergeant replied, before turning to face the troll child and speaking to it in a language of words most did not recognize. A language that sounded bestial and brutal enough to befit their appearance. After a while, the troll child responded in that same language and the two conversed like that for several minutes; only when satisfied did the sergeant turn to look back at his Lord Inquisitor. "A party of men made of ice sacked their village Lord, during which he, his brother and his father fled into the shrine to protect the altar. The father was wounded in the flight there, so entrusted his children to take the artefact and flee so as to avoid its capture by their enemy. They left the shrine together, but when the brother took off running to ensure the coast was clear he was taken captive along with the other children of the village. This one was too scared to do more, so he fled back into the shrine and closed the door to hide. The father died of his wounds."
"I see. I take it that the captured brother had the artefact on his person?" The Lord Inquisitor asked, showing no emotion in his voice.
"Yes Lord," the sergeant replied.
"In that case, we must recover it. Does the child know where this raiding party fled?"
The sergeant turned, then communed once more to the troll in his tribal tongue. A few moments later, he looked back at the man in the coat and nodded, saying, "the ice men shared the features of a strange man who passed by the village about a week ago. He went in the direction of the white mountain, said to be the home of a sorceress; we can see it from here."
The Lord Inquisitor turned, following the sergeant's pointing finger into the distance where The White Mountain stood away from its sister peaks. "Then we shall start there," he told the men with his back to the troll. "Good work. Dispose of the troll child, for we move out immediately."
The sergeant nodded, then watched as the Lord Inquisitor marched up to the rest of the soldiers atop the ridge. He took his crossbow, then without a word aimed it towards the troll child's head and before the troll could even beg he shot a bolt through it's skull.
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