Ulfang von Haren
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 181 
Age: 82
Physical Description: -------------------------------
Ulfang is a bear of a man. He towers over most he meets, and his figure is muscular and powerful, wonderfully preserved despite his age. He has been the head of House Von Haren for over sixty years. While he lacks the immortality of a vampire, he has been able to sustain his health and vitality seemingly indefinitely through his study of the black arts. His hair is snow white and grown long, complemented by a short white beard curved about his jaw. He has a strong jawline and intensely arched eyebrows, as well as one deep, piercing pale yellow right eye. His other eye is milky white, presumably blind, but this only adds to his intimidating visage. His body is covered with scars, material evidence of an existence filled with battle and hardship. He has a deep, strong voice, the sound of which is enough to scare the life out of the living.
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Clothes and Equipment: When in battle, he wears heavy, ornate black plate armour, the shoulders of which are sculpted into the shape of ravens with bizarrely glowing green eyes. The fingertips of the gauntlets have been forged and sharpened into bladed points, to be used as tertiary weaponry should he lose both of his blades. His primary weapon is a cursed, broad greatsword named "Fang", which draws the very life from the enemies it fells and feeds their souls to its master. His secondary weapon is a mundane steel arming sword, used primarily in close quarters. Outside of battle, he generally wears a heavy hide-and-fur overcoat over a thick leather jerkin, complimented by black trousers and heavy black boots.
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Registered: Jun 27, 2015 11:08:07 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfang von Haren on Feb 29, 2020 17:52:39 GMT -8
Ulfang is caught off guard by the speed of the counter-attack, and so instead of stepping back and away from the sweep in order to perform a counter-attack, he's forced to step forward into the strike. This has the effect of reducing the leverage of the attack, so that the broad haft hits him rather than the weighted pommel, but the impact of the haft still makes a concerning crash upon his plated greaves around the upper thigh, leaving a dent and likely causing some light bruising even through his chain and padded gambeson underlayers.
In the same motion, Ulfang draws Fang back and half-swords it, throwing his weight forward to jab the long, sharp parrying lugs near its hilt into Wrath's eyes, hoping to simultaneously blind him and push him back a ways. Wrath's leverage at this close-in range is limited, but Ulfang would rather keep the reach advantage than risk a glancing strike from someone as unnaturally strong as Wrath.
As he's fighting with Wrath, thus holding his position, his own line is falling back. He risks getting cut off from his allies if he doesn't move back soon, and already the waves of blue bloods are beginning to turn on him. He lets out a growling yelp as one of the drug-crazed maniacs drives the center tine of a pitchfork powerfully forth between his cuisses and greaves, tearing through the chain and padded cloth that fill the gap and driving into the back of his knee, narrowly missing the politeal vein and severely damaging his collateral ligament before driving up into his femoral muscles.
Ulfang slams the tip of Fang into the blue blood's face, felling him, and tears the embedded pitchfork from his flesh, causing blood to leak visibly down the black chain and stain the gambeson beneath. He hobbles back toward the line of guardsmen, slashing and hewing this way and that to fell Blue Bloods left and right until he slips past the first rank of his allies. He surely can't fight that monster with such an injury, and it'll take him a few moments of inaction to heal it, which he cannot afford.
Ulfang steps to the back rank of the retreating guard and leans his blade up against an upturned stall. He raises his hands toward the main street, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, centering himself as he draws up the magical power stored within. The palms of his hands begin to glow a sickly green, and he reaches out with his magic to the corpses of the guardsmen strewn all about the streets. He's surprised to find that he cannot establish a connection with the flesh of the Blue Bloods, but he pushes the thought aside. That's something to examine later, surely, but now he must work with what he has.
The guardsmen begin twitching and spasming at first as their muscles are saturated with the power of souls of the sacrificed, and then they begin to rise, leaping upright with agility usually unseen in undead. They take up their swords and shields again, and continue the fight where they left off, working with mechanical coordination to draw together into a single square formation with shields facing outward, making it difficult for the drug-crazed maniacs to breach their defences as they tear a path of carnage through the Blue Blood ranks toward those of the Isran Guard. While the revenants are not as dexterous or agile as they were in life, those who take a hit that would otherwise be fatal for a living man fight on with little care for the damage, and it becomes quickly apparent that it'll take more than the basic converted common folk to take them down.
This, Ulfang hopes, will draw the attention of Wrath and allow the rest of them to fall back to a more defensible position. He opens his eyes again, the faint green glow of Black Arts contamination fading from his irises as he takes up his blade again and holds it high to gain the attention of his comrades.
"Fall back!" he bellows over the cacophony of blades clashing against blades. "Live to fight another day, men of Isra! We cannot win this engagement here; make for the walls of the Citadel! If they are lost, then we are all lost!"
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Tassarion Genroris
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 25
Physical Description: The broad-chested warrior stands at a tall height of 6'1", windblown, chestnut hair hanging in his face and caught in his beard. His dark eyes peer from beneath somewhat unruly brows, he has strong scandinavianesque features that fit his warrior persona.
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Clothes and Equipment: He wears furs and leathers: everything from the boots to his mantle, marking him as a fine hunter. His weapons include a large axe which he uses both as a melee weapon as well as a ranged weapon, as well as simple but finely made daggers. His armour includes an iron helm, gauntlets, and chest plates affixed with leather straps.
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Registered: Feb 1, 2020 9:40:14 GMT -8
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Post by Tassarion Genroris on Mar 1, 2020 16:04:16 GMT -8
It had been a stupid idea to give a barbarian like Tassarion the drug that flowed so sweetly, at first, through his veins. He had this gnawing anger within him that he had never felt before, and itched to see red spilling in the streets. He didn't know why he had taken the damned drug in the first place, but the man was now charging into a crowd of people, grabbing one by the throat and lifting him off the ground with a strength he hardly knew he possessed.
All he could see was the red of his rage as he hauled back his meaty fist and began to pound into the flesh of the one who's life he literally held in his hand. "Shut... up!" he bellowed and slammed again until the man was either dead or knocked out, one or the other.
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Camaro (Dart)
Committed
Roleplay posts: 58
Age: 23
Physical Description: Dart as those on the streets knows her is a small-framed woman no taller than 5ft which makes her hard to track in a crowd. Her green radiant eyes framed by the dark short hair peer out finding the next target on her list.
Clothes and Equipment: She hides behind black cloaks and armor of the likes with faint white accents. She wears dark gloves that nearly reach her elbows to better help her climb things without injuring her hands. She wears sleek pants that tuck into a pair of steel-toed boots. She often carries a set of tools that help her pick locks and a trusty dagger. As for what else she may carry, we'll leave that a mystery for now.
Registered: Jan 12, 2020 16:29:33 GMT -8
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Post by Camaro (Dart) on Mar 6, 2020 13:09:17 GMT -8
Dart looks out among the bazaar and sees Tass below. She decides to forego the conversation she was going to have with this mysterious archer, talking to Tass seemed a little more interesting. She smirks and looks around. She takes a deep breath and dives off the edge of the building into a nearby haystack that was deep enough to catch her fall. After brushing off the hay from herself, she walks over to Tass.
"It looks like you can't keep yourself away from me." Dart watched as he pounded a bystander. They all seem to have the same idea. She lets out a loud laugh before joining in the blood festivities with her daggers. She watches her dagger fly right into the chest of a nearby fleeing woman. Seeing Tass makes her anger shrink down but a pinch, but the people all the people are such annoying bugs for her to squish. "You're really good at getting them to quiet up" Dart trusted Tass to not mistake her for a bystander. The blue lines on the skin of those that have taken the drug really make it hard to confuse.
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Tassarion Genroris
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 25
Physical Description: The broad-chested warrior stands at a tall height of 6'1", windblown, chestnut hair hanging in his face and caught in his beard. His dark eyes peer from beneath somewhat unruly brows, he has strong scandinavianesque features that fit his warrior persona.
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Clothes and Equipment: He wears furs and leathers: everything from the boots to his mantle, marking him as a fine hunter. His weapons include a large axe which he uses both as a melee weapon as well as a ranged weapon, as well as simple but finely made daggers. His armour includes an iron helm, gauntlets, and chest plates affixed with leather straps.
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Registered: Feb 1, 2020 9:40:14 GMT -8
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Post by Tassarion Genroris on Mar 9, 2020 7:53:11 GMT -8
He was distracted by the woman who had entered his life like some sort of dervish. He didn't see her as a bother really, but the sight of her made him drop the poor man he had just beaten, step over him, wait until she was finished stabbing some poor woman, and he grabbed her and pulled her to him. "I think it's the other way around," he purred in a pleased way. "Ugh, they won't shut up," he said and let her go, turning and knocking down several running men. No matter how angry he was, he would never hit a woman, so he left that to her. He shot his arm out and clotheslined a larger man, then turned his attention to the guy. "Shut. Up." he growled. "Stop screaming."
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Camaro (Dart)
Committed
Roleplay posts: 58
Age: 23
Physical Description: Dart as those on the streets knows her is a small-framed woman no taller than 5ft which makes her hard to track in a crowd. Her green radiant eyes framed by the dark short hair peer out finding the next target on her list.
Clothes and Equipment: She hides behind black cloaks and armor of the likes with faint white accents. She wears dark gloves that nearly reach her elbows to better help her climb things without injuring her hands. She wears sleek pants that tuck into a pair of steel-toed boots. She often carries a set of tools that help her pick locks and a trusty dagger. As for what else she may carry, we'll leave that a mystery for now.
Registered: Jan 12, 2020 16:29:33 GMT -8
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Post by Camaro (Dart) on Mar 9, 2020 15:05:47 GMT -8
Dart laughed and replied "maybee, but either way we make a good team" she purred watching him before turning her attention to the crowd. "let's paint the town red, darling" she winks at him before diving into the crowd to pull out her dagger and plunge it into another poor souls chest. The two continue to cause mayhem among the bazaar, soon there will be no one else left here and they'll eventually continue to reek havoc upon the rest of Isra. "It seems even the guards are forced to fall back. Back to their precious empress. I wonder what she'll do." Dart coos imagining the expression on her face as she learns that her innocent civilians are dying in the streets.
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Tassarion Genroris
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 25
Physical Description: The broad-chested warrior stands at a tall height of 6'1", windblown, chestnut hair hanging in his face and caught in his beard. His dark eyes peer from beneath somewhat unruly brows, he has strong scandinavianesque features that fit his warrior persona.
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Clothes and Equipment: He wears furs and leathers: everything from the boots to his mantle, marking him as a fine hunter. His weapons include a large axe which he uses both as a melee weapon as well as a ranged weapon, as well as simple but finely made daggers. His armour includes an iron helm, gauntlets, and chest plates affixed with leather straps.
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Registered: Feb 1, 2020 9:40:14 GMT -8
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Post by Tassarion Genroris on Mar 11, 2020 8:36:05 GMT -8
He was not normally one to do murder and mayhem. At the moment, he could only see her and what she was doing, and he could only think to join her in painting the town red. His meaty fist found its way into another jaw, and another. His rage was palpable, such that it radiated around him like a beacon. He just wanted to shut the people up, make the noise stop. The blood roared in his system, blue lines visible on his skin just as it was hers. When they were standing among the piles of injured, maybe dead, he turned to her and brought her closer again. A high range of feelings that he didn't quite understand, maybe it was the rage, he did not know, caused him to mutter, "We have to stop this... We have to stop. Why can't we?"
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Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on Mar 12, 2020 9:11:57 GMT -8
Wrath manages to move his had to the side at the last second at Ulfang's counter-attack. The giant feeling the blad impact with flesh as it draws a deep gouge across the monster's temple. Wrath adjusts his grip on the ax suddenly settling into a proper style for it. He'd been wielding the weapon like a bow staff against lesser opponents as he didn't need to take full advantage of his weapon to deal with them. Against Ulfang though? This was a foe the monster would have to bring all his strength to bare against.
The shift in fighting style certainly didn't help as the giant did his best to maintain reach, Wrath did his best to close it. Each swing of the great axe delivered with speed and precision bringing the full weight of the weapon to bear with each strike. Had the duel lasted longer it was hard to say who might have won. But none could claim that Ulfang had been overwhelmed by his opponent, all would say he'd fought as an equal against the monster.
Yet the scant force of guards didn't fare nearly as well as the giant, soon they collapse before the onslaught and Ulfang finds himself flanked. Retreat was the only option for the man and so it was that the Grand Bazaar was lost in an instant as a paltry force of revenants is left to hold back the tide. The feeling defenders unaware that they are running into an even wrose nightmare as the citadel was facing its own horrors.
Wrath bellows in rage as his foe manages to escape and the great beast of a man falls into the group of revenants like a hurricane. The great head of his axe and the weighted end whirling around to smash in skulls and pulverize flesh until the magic animating them fails. Defences crumbling, the city falling, Isra burns. One question on everyone's mind, where were her champions?
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410 
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on Mar 12, 2020 11:56:54 GMT -8
With the city bathed in chaos, the assailants could be forgiven for missing the little things. What is the pinprick of an ant’s minuscule jaws on your ankles to the biting blades of dozens of guardsmen? What is a creeping spider's web to the acrid haze of melting coins and burning tapestries? What is a mosquito’s buzz to the wails of a charred corpse whose heart hadn’t quite stopped? A crawling weed, a sea bird's wing beats, the clickety-clack of a stray dog’s gallop, a single bur attached to a blue blood’s slacks... In the city’s death throes, they weren’t even proper background noise. A blue blood berserker slips on an acorn. He gets up and continues his murder spree. Another one trips on a vine growing out of a sewer grate. A minor inconvenience. Doubtful Wrath would notice the caustic stickiness of an exploding termite’s sacrifice on his heels. A brave red-bellied wren attempts to foul Sloth’s bow. A blue blood clumsily tripping over itself once is a coincidence. But what about twice? What about three times? Exactly how many weeds lived in Isra’s sewers? How many termites did it take to carpet the street and eat away Wrath’s boots? How many ants and spiders could fit inside Sloth’s pant legs? How many birds, insects, and bats did it take to blacken Isra’s skies? The blue bloods lit up the magical landscape of Isra like a swarm of fireflies. It was easy to not notice nigh invisible specks of magical influence empowering the new wave of Isra’s defenders. Only when the spell went from being nowhere to being everywhere would they notice it. The stray dogs were coordinating to distract the blue bloods from the innocent, and their bones and teeth were now strong as steel. The roaches were eating away at various victims' destroyed flesh, which strangely began to grow anew with every milligram of spittle the detritivores left in the wounds. The spurs were growing into strange, sticky sundews that were consuming the blue blood's malignant magic. Seagulls and ravens were circling, with some beginning to dive. The ant’s jaws were infused with lightning. The termite's blood burned. Having crept up as quietly and patiently as a fog, the magical influence was now everywhere. A new champion had arrived. Now, what is a feller of nations to an extremely pissed-off farm girl hiding in the sewers? Time to find out. |
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Camaro (Dart)
Committed
Roleplay posts: 58
Age: 23
Physical Description: Dart as those on the streets knows her is a small-framed woman no taller than 5ft which makes her hard to track in a crowd. Her green radiant eyes framed by the dark short hair peer out finding the next target on her list.
Clothes and Equipment: She hides behind black cloaks and armor of the likes with faint white accents. She wears dark gloves that nearly reach her elbows to better help her climb things without injuring her hands. She wears sleek pants that tuck into a pair of steel-toed boots. She often carries a set of tools that help her pick locks and a trusty dagger. As for what else she may carry, we'll leave that a mystery for now.
Registered: Jan 12, 2020 16:29:33 GMT -8
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Post by Camaro (Dart) on Mar 12, 2020 12:37:03 GMT -8
Dart didn't have a chance to reply to Tass before the skies and streets became filled with animals that have appeared. "Seems like this is the Empress's solution." Dart hated the idea of being seen for this exact reason. She knew that the Empress had powerful people that'll easily get rid of any nuisance too big for the regular guards to handle. Dart always had a soft spot for animals but that usually goes away when they're trying to go for her throat.
"How about you stop hiding behind your precious animals!" Dart yells trying to draw out the caster. The thief kicks one of the mutts trying to run at her. "all the life that you have called to help you will be in vain. When I'm through with them, the streets will be running crimson red." Dart laughs showing no intention of trying to stop letting the drug do all her decision making for her. Right now, the only decision she chooses is the path of deathly rage. She trades her daggers for a pair of scimitars as her maniacal laughter fills the streets. The woman begins to carve through the waves of animals and plants trying to stop her rampage.
She shoots a quick look at Tass seeing how he's holding up with the new trouble in their path. She feels a twinge of something else as she sees him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that they will regret what they have done when the drug has run its course. The events here might even destroy him and she was the one that let him join her down this destructive path. That twinge of so-called guilt is quickly washed away as her blade sinks into the supple flesh of a nearby civilian. Who cares about guilt when all this slicing is much more fun. Time to go hunt down a caster.
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Tassarion Genroris
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 25
Physical Description: The broad-chested warrior stands at a tall height of 6'1", windblown, chestnut hair hanging in his face and caught in his beard. His dark eyes peer from beneath somewhat unruly brows, he has strong scandinavianesque features that fit his warrior persona.
-------------------------------------------
Clothes and Equipment: He wears furs and leathers: everything from the boots to his mantle, marking him as a fine hunter. His weapons include a large axe which he uses both as a melee weapon as well as a ranged weapon, as well as simple but finely made daggers. His armour includes an iron helm, gauntlets, and chest plates affixed with leather straps.
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Registered: Feb 1, 2020 9:40:14 GMT -8
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Post by Tassarion Genroris on Mar 12, 2020 18:28:26 GMT -8
He was trying to fight the feeling of rage he felt, but the more he fought it, the angrier he seemed to feel. Tass kicked a dog away and pulled his axe, swinging and slicing off the appendages of the next closest victim. Paint the town red, paint the town red. Mwahaha. Paint the town red. He saw red, alright. Splat, swoosh, slice... The barbarian did not care what came at him, be it human or dog, heads were starting to roll and he was feeling the euphoria of the kill. He would end the night later whilst celebrating with Dart, he thought. It was clear that the drug never brought him the vision he was supposed to have had back in the desert.
The vision he had now was macabre.
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Ulfang von Haren
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 181
Age: 82
Physical Description: -------------------------------
Ulfang is a bear of a man. He towers over most he meets, and his figure is muscular and powerful, wonderfully preserved despite his age. He has been the head of House Von Haren for over sixty years. While he lacks the immortality of a vampire, he has been able to sustain his health and vitality seemingly indefinitely through his study of the black arts. His hair is snow white and grown long, complemented by a short white beard curved about his jaw. He has a strong jawline and intensely arched eyebrows, as well as one deep, piercing pale yellow right eye. His other eye is milky white, presumably blind, but this only adds to his intimidating visage. His body is covered with scars, material evidence of an existence filled with battle and hardship. He has a deep, strong voice, the sound of which is enough to scare the life out of the living.
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Clothes and Equipment: When in battle, he wears heavy, ornate black plate armour, the shoulders of which are sculpted into the shape of ravens with bizarrely glowing green eyes. The fingertips of the gauntlets have been forged and sharpened into bladed points, to be used as tertiary weaponry should he lose both of his blades. His primary weapon is a cursed, broad greatsword named "Fang", which draws the very life from the enemies it fells and feeds their souls to its master. His secondary weapon is a mundane steel arming sword, used primarily in close quarters. Outside of battle, he generally wears a heavy hide-and-fur overcoat over a thick leather jerkin, complimented by black trousers and heavy black boots.
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Registered: Jun 27, 2015 11:08:07 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfang von Haren on Mar 14, 2020 21:59:43 GMT -8
The revenant guardsmen back off as one and lure the monster away from the fleeing citizens and the Guard ranks, allowing the rest of them to retreat back toward The Citadel. They shelter as many citizens as they can within their circle formation, but ultimately most of them are lost in the onslaught of the blue bloods. Regardless of the ultimate outcome of the battle, this will be a black day in Isra's history. All of the revenants are eventually felled. Their persistence coupled with the delay caused by Jun's spellcasting make a big enough gap in the blue blood assault for the guard to escape, though, and so the guard is long gone before they can resume their assault upon the guard formation. [exit to Central Plaza] |
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Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on Apr 12, 2020 10:09:34 GMT -8
When they told stories of this day in the future the rise of the vermin was spoken of in hushed tones. Some said it was the moment the momentum turned others claiming it was simply pointless theatrics. Yet there was little doubt that the sudden harassment of the blue bloods bought many people their lives that day. Was it the most efficient way to clean the streets? That was hard to say but Jun of the Celadine's actions saved hundreds.
But did it save thousands?
The mystery that needed to be solved was what was driving the blue bloods. So long as they were whipped into a frenzy then the day would not end. Not only that but cutting them down was weakening Isra as much as the blue bloods running wild would. After all, for all that they were feral beasts at this moment they were all Isran civilians and while some were criminals there were dock workers, labourers, bakers, and bankers. People from all walks of life the very lifeblood of the city tainted and turned against itself.
Things could not continue this way.
The reports would be pouring in but the question was, who would make the connection? The Blue Bloods were running wild in three central locations. Yet moving through the city one would eventually hit the edge of whatever was causing them to go wild. It was possible to out run them and get to safety for there was an edge to the area the blue bloods seemed willing to go to. It would take insight to figure out just where the heart of those areas is.
Meanwhile, the rout was complete.
Even with Jun's turn the grand bazaar appeared to be well and truly lost. Underneath the great ax of Wrath, the resistance crumbled and while a stray dog managed to delay him from wiping out the last company of retreating dogs, it was clear that there needed to be more of a response from the city. Jun would feel how bad things were when her bugs tried to drain the magic out of people, the results were not good as it caused some of the afflicted to crumble as their bodies turned to desiccated husks.
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on Apr 12, 2020 15:28:29 GMT -8
A wave of righteous fury passed through the air like a thunderclap.
By releasing a rather significant pulse of mana into the city, Jun risked giving away her position. Her injury made her particularly vulnerable in close-quarters combat, and she knew if she fell, the attackers would rebound and doom Isra for sure. But that was a risk she was willing to take. The epicenter of the phenomenon could be sensed by those of magical inclination as somewhere underground, at the bazaar's border adjacent to the city, slowly and steadily getting closer. Her exact position, however, would still be clouded by the thousands of small mana points being generated by the flora and fauna rebellion.
A rainfall of whistles and shrieks blanketed the city as thousands of birds and bats began to dive. Golden embers of fire energy fell from their feathers and fur, strange ignition sources that burned those of evil intent while sparing the innocent and anything actually flammable. While perhaps not lethal, this spell served to compliment the beaks and claws of Isra's new avian allies, blinding their foes and distracting them with second-degree burns.
Despite her best efforts, Isra really did look doomed.
However, there was a glimmer of hope. Jun sensed that her anti-magic wasn't having the desired effect. This was, by itself, an important clue. There must have been more to the phenomenon than the blue blood body itself. And while she couldn't see the entire map of carnage, she could feel how the efforts of her living creatures were being distributed. This gave her a surprisingly accurate picture of the size and scope of the attack. Maybe the epicenter was the key...
But she couldn't leave her position to deal with it herself. If she did, she'd lose focus on her massive area spell, which was the only major resistance the city had so far. She also wasn't sure if she was ready to face the orchestrators or even a swarm of blue bloods head-on, the shadow of her damaged arm looming over her psyche.
Also, she was getting used to the scent of piss water. Go figure.
She concentrated. There must be other people fighting back. Guards, heroes, elite warriors, cattle raisers, someone.
Anyone.
CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?
Her magic once again flowed out into the city, once again putting her at risk of detection. But if Isra was to stand a chance, it needed more heroes.
A few of the animals and plants would glow with purple eyes and leaves.
YOU CAN TRUST THE ANIMALS!
She strained. Who knew defending an entire city was so much work?
An image of the approximate radius of the phenomenon would flash in people's minds.
Her heart was beating irregularly. Her eyes felt like they were going to explode.
ANTI-MAGIC WON'T SAVE THEM!
An image of a blue blood crumbling would flash in their minds.
THERE'S SOMETHING ELSE! SOMETHING IN THE MIDDLE!
She clenched her teeth. She wasn't going to lose.
DO... NOT GIVE UP!
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Megan Zachurr
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 131
Registered: Oct 14, 2015 14:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by Megan Zachurr on Apr 13, 2020 16:38:53 GMT -8
Megan was lead into the city by her staff of divination and light, Eulux, which was pulling her aggressively toward the action. "No! C'mon Eulux! This is Isra, I already got in trouble with them before!"
Once she was at the gates, she realized something was wrong. The city was in chaos, when she heard the screams she immediately remembered the fall of her home of Aaedan. It was happening again! She wanted to cry a little but when she saw the people she got a grip of herself and remembered that she was a hero like her uncle. Eulux had brought her here to help save a city, she'd do her best to make things turn out different this time.
"Okay Eulux, take me into the fight!" Megan hops onto the staff like a broomstick and it zooms through the streets, taking her closer to the Bazaar with her gilded cape flapping in the wind. While riding she starts charging her energy to prepare for a spellcast as soon as she spots an enemy. On the way, she saw the strange animals and heard the messages from Jun. She wasn't totally sure what was going on, and hoped she would run into some allies before getting in the middle of everything.
She stops outside the bazaar to assess the situation, it looked bad. She gets off of Eulux and takes firm command of it so that it wouldn't jerk her around when she needed to focus.
[Spell Charged 1 turn]
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Camaro (Dart)
Committed
Roleplay posts: 58
Age: 23
Physical Description: Dart as those on the streets knows her is a small-framed woman no taller than 5ft which makes her hard to track in a crowd. Her green radiant eyes framed by the dark short hair peer out finding the next target on her list.
Clothes and Equipment: She hides behind black cloaks and armor of the likes with faint white accents. She wears dark gloves that nearly reach her elbows to better help her climb things without injuring her hands. She wears sleek pants that tuck into a pair of steel-toed boots. She often carries a set of tools that help her pick locks and a trusty dagger. As for what else she may carry, we'll leave that a mystery for now.
Registered: Jan 12, 2020 16:29:33 GMT -8
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Post by Camaro (Dart) on Apr 13, 2020 18:16:00 GMT -8
Dart sneered at the puny efforts of Isra. Sure the animals were an annoyance, but eventually, she and the other infected by the drugs will take over. She turns to Tass and chuckled before speaking to him. "Are you having fun? You know you look pretty good covered in blood, and we make an amazing team" Dart purred before winking at him.
Even though Dart's intentions were taken over by the drug, she was very aware of her surroundings. She looked up to see another pesky magic-user zooming on in. Dart couldn't help but let out a loud cackle at seeing this stranger's mode of transport. "OHHH!! A new thing to hunt down" Dart was giddy with joy at the image of more carnage. This new stranger was much too far for Dart to attack, but she was glad she was able to notice the stranger. The thief wouldn't want to be hit by surprise especially not from behind. She shifted her position as she advanced making sure to keep the newcomer in her peripherals in case she does something....hasty. "How many more of you bothersome sorcerers are there!!!" Dart cried out to no one in particular.
Dart in her current state looks just about ready to crossover the threshold to utter madness. She continues to slice her way through whatever stood in her way making it closer to whoever is controlling these animals. With each being that falls, more blood splatters her clothing. With this much blood, she could practically dye her entire outfit. It doesn't matter how good they hide, Dart always has a way of finding people. It's what she does best, finding and slicing them to shreds.
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Vaelar Black
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 114
Age: 35
Physical Description: Vaelar is a massively tall man, standing at a height of six and a quarter feet and possessing a powerful build. He has flowing, well-kept hair of snow white, reaching down past his shoulders, and eyes of a deep violet. He has a youthful face and a strong, well-cut jawline, usually covered with a dusting of stubble. Overall, his appearance is much more youthful than his actual age, and his energy and charisma has not dissipated over the years of his being a sellsword.
Clothes and Equipment: ===================================================
Outside of battle, Vaelar wears simple and comfortable, yet elegant clothing. His indigo tunic is made of cave spider silk, breathable and flowing, and purposefully baggy so as to show off a hint of his muscular build. He usually wears a set of dark brown leather trousers to go along with it, completing the ensemble with a pair of well-built leather boots.
In battle he wears a set of heavy full plate, the metal of which has been stained black with red trim, an imposing depiction of a red dragon painted across the chest. Normally he wears no helmet, preferring as wide a range of view as possible. As for weaponry, he normally wields a well-made bastard sword handed down his bloodline named "Nightrend", paired with a steel kite shield, although the shield can be abandoned and the bastard sword wielded with two hands. On his belt he generally carries a complement of several different throwable substances, from gaseous potions to napatha to a vial of an unknown, viscous substance which traps his enemy in a thick, sticky black slime, simultaneously slowing their actions and compromising armour strength with its acidity.
Registered: Sept 13, 2015 7:53:53 GMT -8
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Post by Vaelar Black on Apr 13, 2020 20:40:04 GMT -8
A shadow passes rapidly over the Bazaar, the sound of powerful leathery wings beating carried down the wind toward the streets as the shadow wheels about. It stops as it perfectly eclipses the sun above the bazaar, the silhouette of a man astride a creature with a huge wingspan and a segmented tail imprinted upon the eyes of the Bazaar's denizens. Then, the figure dives rapidly, and in a blur of red and silver, slams into the ground of the Bazaar, a giant, angry-looking manticore pinning a blue blood to the ground and tearing its throat out with a leonine roar, its gnashing teeth biting through the blue blood's soft tissue like a hot knife through butter.
A man slips fluidly from its back, and drives his mithril-plated right fist into the face of a blue blood who's attempting to charge the beast with a crude bludgeon, turning the crazed man's face into a bloody pulp before drawing his broadsword, an unnaturally thick metal kite shield with the insignia of a curled black dragon on a field of blood red strapped to his other arm. The man is dressed in resplendent gilded steel armour, although his right gauntlet appears different from the rest, silver-blue mithril interlocking plates coated with intermittently glowing blue runes taking the place of a regular steel glove. A plain crimson cloak billows behind him, short enough not to get tangled underfoot, but wide enough to conceal his silhouette in battle.
Vaelar slams his heavy shield into another blue blood, the enchanted steel sending the creature flying several feet back to crash upon his back, and executes a draw cut across the face of another who gets far too close for comfort. He turns to the beast and yells over the din of battle.
"Did you hear that, Boscoe?" he shouts, his voice a refined Medanese tenor that evokes the noble knight in shining armour even more than his garb does. "Sounds like our sweet Jun needs some help with these bastards. What say you we oblige, eh?"
He runs his blade through a crazed man with a lit torch that screams bloody murder as he scrambles toward the knight, whilst blocking another's pitchfork thrust, twisting about to decapitate the poor addled peasant with a fluid motion.
The Manticore's eerily expressive lion-man face turns toward the knight, its giant segmented scorpion tail whipping about to impale another rabid peasant, injecting him with several hundred times the lethal dose of its deadly neurotoxin before drawing back. The manticore tilts its head as if to nod, and then dashes off toward the aforementioned epicenter, batting blue bloods aside with swipes of its razor-sharp claws. Vaelar curses and shouts at it to slow down, whist scrambling after it at a dead run, cutting down any untrained peasant madman who gets in his way and scattering the falling bird-borne cinders like leaves in a whirlpool as he tears down the street.
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Megan Zachurr
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 131
Registered: Oct 14, 2015 14:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by Megan Zachurr on Apr 23, 2020 19:31:41 GMT -8
Megan is excited to see another hero-type person entering the fight. She decides to make her way over to support him. On the way she would attack Bluebloods by swinging her staff imbuing it with her frost magic so that the air around the staff freezes when she attacks, if she were to hit an enemy multiple times she could freeze them solid. To one blueblood she swings her staff making the ice slice across it like twice in an X shape and once the enemy was fully frozen she smashed it with her staff to shatter the frozen body, but this did take a little longer to do so the rest of the way she would just leave after freezing someone, better to keep moving. She'd get Vaelar Black 's attention once she was close enough and he would see the mage fighting along side him. Looking back you see a path of iced-over cobblestone lined with fresh ice sculptures in various action poses with icicles splashed against then marking where Megan had landed her blows. "Hullo! I'm Megan Zachurr of the Heroes' Guild, here ta help help any way I can! AYE! WaTCH oUT FeR ThAT GuY oVa deR ! ! ! " She points at a guy coming near to Vaelar to warn him while she charges up a new spell, knowing she'll need to pull out some bigger spells soon. |
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Tassarion Genroris
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 25
Physical Description: The broad-chested warrior stands at a tall height of 6'1", windblown, chestnut hair hanging in his face and caught in his beard. His dark eyes peer from beneath somewhat unruly brows, he has strong scandinavianesque features that fit his warrior persona.
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Clothes and Equipment: He wears furs and leathers: everything from the boots to his mantle, marking him as a fine hunter. His weapons include a large axe which he uses both as a melee weapon as well as a ranged weapon, as well as simple but finely made daggers. His armour includes an iron helm, gauntlets, and chest plates affixed with leather straps.
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Registered: Feb 1, 2020 9:40:14 GMT -8
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Post by Tassarion Genroris on May 1, 2020 17:53:59 GMT -8
The blade of his axe lovingly kissed flesh and knew the taste of hot blood. Tass' eyes were dark with bloodlust, the crimson painting his face and armor in heavy splatter. He vaguely heard the sound of his almost lover's voice, he turned those eyes to her and he muttered, "After this is over, I will show you teamwork." He gave a grin, then he raised his axe and gave a battle cry, returning to the fray with such glee that it was palpable. He was lost to the drug.
His smile died at all of the birds and he let out a great roar. "Find the damned mage!" He began to swat at the aviaries with a meaty hand. It was almost comical a sight.
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Camaro (Dart)
Committed
Roleplay posts: 58
Age: 23
Physical Description: Dart as those on the streets knows her is a small-framed woman no taller than 5ft which makes her hard to track in a crowd. Her green radiant eyes framed by the dark short hair peer out finding the next target on her list.
Clothes and Equipment: She hides behind black cloaks and armor of the likes with faint white accents. She wears dark gloves that nearly reach her elbows to better help her climb things without injuring her hands. She wears sleek pants that tuck into a pair of steel-toed boots. She often carries a set of tools that help her pick locks and a trusty dagger. As for what else she may carry, we'll leave that a mystery for now.
Registered: Jan 12, 2020 16:29:33 GMT -8
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Post by Camaro (Dart) on May 4, 2020 10:56:26 GMT -8
Dart smiles at Tass's flirtatious reply. "I hope it leaves me breathless" she snickers giving her own witty reply before she continues her hunt for the mage. "Oh Tass, we'll find her. She can't be hiding forever. We just need to look in every nook and cranny. I'm tired of all these animals. I would much rather cut down more people!"
Dart continues on her rampage as a shadow sweeps over the bazaar. She sneers as the man charges in on his manticore. At least this time, it isn't another bloody mage. "HEY PRETTY BOY!" Dart shouts hoping he was close enough in earshot to hear her. "You'll get nowhere killing those small fish, come fight someone who actually knows how to wield a blade!" She lets out a boisterous laugh. Dart draws out a dagger she had hidden underneath her cloak and as soon as she had a clear sight of the white-haired knight she throws her dagger straight and true aiming for the eye of the manticore. Let's hope that this time Dart's aim is as good as ever.
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Storyteller
Committed
Roleplay posts: 63
Registered: Jan 22, 2019 10:58:11 GMT -8
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Post by Storyteller on May 11, 2020 10:09:45 GMT -8
Intent is a funny thing as Jun was about to learn. The glowing embers of righteous wrath fell upon the city their power meant to burn those with evil intent. An ember landed on a blue-blood and... nothing happened. Another landed on the back of Wrath and he didn't notice. You see, in order for someone to be carrying evil intent, at least in the way Jun's spell operated, they had to actually have free will. The people Isra were fighting, at present, had no free will. They were slaves to the will of the person who had orchestrated these events, the enemies they faced were innocents and the true villain was beyond her reach.
Sloth had watched from his place of cover as the vermin of the city began to fight against the army of blue bloods. The hunter looking to the sky and watching as birds and insects spread out looking to hinder the fight. That was contrary to his orders and as he tries to figure out just where this was all coming from he felt it, the pulse of magic spreading across the city. The new set had each been imparted with a special gift in order to make them excel at their role. Sloth's gift was tracking and he'd been looking for the source for a while, her pulse of magic painted a target on her back that he couldn't miss.
Knocking an arrow it only takes him a moment to locate the sewer where Jun was still hiding. He didn't have a clean shot but that was fine, he'd selected his arrow according to the situation he expected. The shot was perfect thudding into the stone just above her. Then a moment later it erupted into a massive blast of force and fire. Bodies of blue bloods and straggling guards alike are caught in the blast and Jun would have to contend with both the blast itself and the rubble that was now pouring down towards her promising a swift end to the hero of Isra if she didn't do something quick.
Wrath spots the manticore and the big man grins. His power was the most deadly of all The Set, in fact, his power was something that even Pride was a bit worried about. The magic that fueled the living enchantments that powered The Set was known as a Soul Trap. You see each member of the set shared the same unusual condition of birth, in that they had a massive capacity to store mana but no means by which to generate it. The rune pattern etched into their back though was made to overcome that limitation. Each kill trapped the soul of their opponent within them and powered the runes in their bodies it was a terrifying combination, the more they killed the more power they had at their disposal.
Of course, most of the set could only express their power in a set way. The runes that enhanced them had limitations but Wrath's gift was the ability to turn magical power into strength and speed size without limitation. It was the same gift that the original Wrath, who was now Alden Marshal, had. The only difference was that the new Wrath could not store as much power as Alden, however, to make up for that he could also translate magical power into size.
Blue energy begins to leak from the dark leather armour and dark steel of Wrath's equipment as he starts to grow. He was already towering at seven feet but he was soon eight, nine, ten feet tall and getting bigger by the moment as he charges Boscoe with his axe. By the time that wicked blade goes hurtling toward the manticore in a two-handed grip, with enough power and speed to shatter a ten-tonne boulder, Wrath is nearly twenty feet tall. Things were not looking good.
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