Avenórh
Established
Roleplay posts: 11
Physical Description: It appears a man, a very tall and broad person draped in black cloth from head to toe. There is no flesh visible, although the cloth seems filled out, as if wrapped around a strong frame. A sword hangs down the side of this being, the scabbard long and black, engraved with symbols. The hands and feet of this character are covered in layered metal, and on first glance could almost appear as scale.
The cloth has withered, and it is quite dirty from extensive travel. A hood is pulled over what appears a head, although there is no face to be found, only darkness.
Registered: Sept 20, 2015 18:09:44 GMT -8
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Post by Avenórh on Oct 2, 2015 21:17:38 GMT -8
The orc closed its fist around the hilt of an axe, grunting as its prisoner talked. The orc raised itself from the chair, the axe gripped tightly. "You will speak when spoken to scum!" the orc roared, its voice harsh and horrifying. The orc walked over to the bars, standing roughly a foot from the mans face as he tried to warm his hands on the torch. "If you don't move your filthy hands back behind the bars I'll rape you, then scalp you". The orc was shorter than the man, but its musculature resembled that of a bull. From behind the helmet shone two bloodthirsty eyes, they were locked on Godwin's. The orc broke out into a low growl, its teeth were horribly rotten and quite sharp.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 11, 2024 6:54:20 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2015 21:20:55 GMT -8
"Gah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't rape me!"
Godwin jumps back and flattens himself against the wall, scared by the prospect of prison orc rape.
"Um...where am I? Can you at least tell me that?"
Scared as he is, keeping his mouth shut was never one of Godwin's strongest points.
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Avenórh
Established
Roleplay posts: 11
Physical Description: It appears a man, a very tall and broad person draped in black cloth from head to toe. There is no flesh visible, although the cloth seems filled out, as if wrapped around a strong frame. A sword hangs down the side of this being, the scabbard long and black, engraved with symbols. The hands and feet of this character are covered in layered metal, and on first glance could almost appear as scale.
The cloth has withered, and it is quite dirty from extensive travel. A hood is pulled over what appears a head, although there is no face to be found, only darkness.
Registered: Sept 20, 2015 18:09:44 GMT -8
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Post by Avenórh on Oct 2, 2015 21:31:20 GMT -8
The orc let out a long and hearty laugh, fluids spewing from its nasty mouth, it was clearly amused. "You're in the heart of Nâshagrar... You'll never see the light of day". It was not entirely clear if the orc was attempting to demoralize its prisoner, but it had given him his whereabouts.
"You'll be thrown in the pits to fight" the orc continued, it struggled to speak, hacking and coughing, almost yelling. Just as the orc mocked Godwin telling him about his demise, the door shot wide open. Another orc entered, this one much taller and less geared. "Take the maggot to lord Dârothil!".
The short orc looked back at Godwin, knowing what was in store for him. It offered him a devilish grin, another low chuckle emitting from behind the helmet as it worked to unlock the cell. This was clearly not good for Godwin.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 11, 2024 6:54:20 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2015 21:37:54 GMT -8
Godwin backs away as best he can.
"Wait wait wait...I'm not a fighter. I won't make a good show. Surely there's some other thing I can do?"
His expression turns pleading as the Orc grabs him.
"Do you have cards? I'll play you for my freedom. Or dice, or knucklebones. Whattaya say, huh? One round, winner take all?"
He gives a his usual cocky grin, although it's much less confident than usual.
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Avenórh
Established
Roleplay posts: 11
Physical Description: It appears a man, a very tall and broad person draped in black cloth from head to toe. There is no flesh visible, although the cloth seems filled out, as if wrapped around a strong frame. A sword hangs down the side of this being, the scabbard long and black, engraved with symbols. The hands and feet of this character are covered in layered metal, and on first glance could almost appear as scale.
The cloth has withered, and it is quite dirty from extensive travel. A hood is pulled over what appears a head, although there is no face to be found, only darkness.
Registered: Sept 20, 2015 18:09:44 GMT -8
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Post by Avenórh on Oct 2, 2015 21:58:26 GMT -8
The two orcs took a hold of Godwin, violently dragging him along. His feet would scrape against the stone floor, tearing at his flesh if he dosen't not kept the tempo of the orcs. Soon he'd find himself in a corridor with many cells. This was the dungeons, chains and various bindings were stashed on the walls, rusty and bloody. Screams of terror echoed out in the halls, screams of tortured individuals. He was dragged for the better part of ten minutes, for this fortress was unimaginably huge, and walking across even one level could take one the better part of an hour. Orcs of varied size and color roamed the underground fortress, all busy with work. This was not a place that encouraged high hopes, it was a terrifying place to be. He was dragged up stairs, into corridors, through more hallways and up more stairs. Finally Godwin found himself walking towards something that looked different. There was a throne, resting at the top of a set of smooth stairs. The throne was mighty tall and dark. It was cut from the bedrock of the mountain, unpolished and untamed. On the throne sat a massive armored figure, a staff and a sword resting by its side. The armor was thick plate of an unidentifiable metal. Two black sockets in the horned helmet watched Godwin carefully as he approached. Godwin was thrown mercilessly against the cold floor, forced to kneel in front of the lord.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 11, 2024 6:54:20 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2015 22:05:57 GMT -8
"Ouch! Ow! Hey! Slow down, I can't- ouch!"
Godwin runs/is dragged over to he throne room, and is forced to his knees before the lord. He looks up at the massive figure, trembling.
"Uh...hey. What do you want with me? I don't know you. If it's money you want, I can pay..."
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Dârothil
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Physical Description: Dârothil stands at seven feet exactly, his frame broad and thick. His armor was practical, layered steel plates made up most of his suit, decorated with engravings in a language lost to time. There were a few spikes extending past his shoulders and kneecaps. His helmet was horned, with two sockets of black terror staring from behind the face-guard. From his back hung a cloak of a dark red velvet, it was worn and slightly dirty at the bottom.
In his hand was a six feet staff with a worn shade of black, a crystal placed in the socket at the tip. By his side rested a long sword, forged in the heart of the fortress in which he had his origin.
Registered: Sept 26, 2015 23:22:54 GMT -8
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Post by Dârothil on Oct 2, 2015 22:14:15 GMT -8
Dârothil didn't move, he simply spoke from behind the helmet. "What brought you here and what can you offer me in return for your life?" His voice was weak, not much but a whisper but it was somehow still really loud, ringing out into the room.
Dârothil's gauntlets gripped the armrests tightly, as if annoyed by Godwin's presence. If Godwin possessed any magical affinity or had a good gut, he would easily be able to tell that something about this suit of armor simply wasn't right.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 11, 2024 6:54:20 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2015 22:18:50 GMT -8
Godwin is a professional gambler. His gut instinct is excellent, and the armor before him is definitely not right at all.
"Uh...I don't know what brought me here. Honestly. I just fell asleep in some woods, and woke up out there. Maybe it was fairies, or spirits. I dunno. What I do know is that I was there, and now I'm here. Believe me, I don't want to be here. And what can I offer..."
He thinks for a moment, then grins.
"I'll play you. Cards, dice, whatever. It doesn't matter. I'll gamble with my life. You can choose the game."
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Dârothil
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Physical Description: Dârothil stands at seven feet exactly, his frame broad and thick. His armor was practical, layered steel plates made up most of his suit, decorated with engravings in a language lost to time. There were a few spikes extending past his shoulders and kneecaps. His helmet was horned, with two sockets of black terror staring from behind the face-guard. From his back hung a cloak of a dark red velvet, it was worn and slightly dirty at the bottom.
In his hand was a six feet staff with a worn shade of black, a crystal placed in the socket at the tip. By his side rested a long sword, forged in the heart of the fortress in which he had his origin.
Registered: Sept 26, 2015 23:22:54 GMT -8
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Post by Dârothil on Oct 2, 2015 22:28:18 GMT -8
"The closest forest is hundreds upon hundreds of miles away..." Dârothil leaned forward, inspecting the very fabric of Godwin's character. "You do not lie... You do not know the way back... Hrm" the voice whispered. There was silence in the room for a while, and Dârothil leaned back in his throne.
"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life and kills laughter." The voice seemed amused as it spelled out the riddle.
"Reveal the answer, and you shall find yourself... Relieved".
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 11, 2024 6:54:20 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2015 22:33:16 GMT -8
"Hmmm..."
Godwin thinks. What is this guy up to? A riddle? Well, in any case, it's better than pit fighting, that's for sure.
"Hmm...cannot be seen, heard, smelled, or felt...so it's not any sort of thing. Comes first and follows after? Huh? And it ends life...spooky. And kills laughter too...is it silence? You can't hear, see, feel, or smell that. A dead silence will kill laughter, and it's always quiet before the party starts and after it ends. Is that it?"
He looks up at the strange lord expectantly.
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Dârothil
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Physical Description: Dârothil stands at seven feet exactly, his frame broad and thick. His armor was practical, layered steel plates made up most of his suit, decorated with engravings in a language lost to time. There were a few spikes extending past his shoulders and kneecaps. His helmet was horned, with two sockets of black terror staring from behind the face-guard. From his back hung a cloak of a dark red velvet, it was worn and slightly dirty at the bottom.
In his hand was a six feet staff with a worn shade of black, a crystal placed in the socket at the tip. By his side rested a long sword, forged in the heart of the fortress in which he had his origin.
Registered: Sept 26, 2015 23:22:54 GMT -8
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Post by Dârothil on Oct 2, 2015 22:40:28 GMT -8
Dârothil stared at Godwin for a while without answering. He rose from his throne, taking his long sword and his staff with him as he walked down the stairs. He was seven feet tall exactly, much taller than the average human. The armor made him look extremely burly.
"You've failed" the whisper echoed out in the hall, slithering up Godwin's back, reassuring him of imminent death. Dârothil took long strides towards Godwin, his sword resting calmly in his hand.
"How do you wish to die? In the pits? In the wastes of Gomrâth? By my sword?" Dârothil stopped right in front of Godwin, his voice was menacing and quite stern at this point.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: May 11, 2024 6:54:20 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2015 22:46:35 GMT -8
"Whoa whoa whoa. Hold up."
Godwin gets up. If he's going to die, it's not going to be on his knees like a little bitch.
"Why are you going to kill me for answering a riddle wrong? That riddle doesn't have to do with anything. And I didn't do anything to you. I didn't come here on purpose, you saw that. Why would you have me put to death for no reason at all? That makes no sense. If I'm going to die for my crimes, at least tell me what those crimes are!"
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Dârothil
Established
Roleplay posts: 22
Physical Description: Dârothil stands at seven feet exactly, his frame broad and thick. His armor was practical, layered steel plates made up most of his suit, decorated with engravings in a language lost to time. There were a few spikes extending past his shoulders and kneecaps. His helmet was horned, with two sockets of black terror staring from behind the face-guard. From his back hung a cloak of a dark red velvet, it was worn and slightly dirty at the bottom.
In his hand was a six feet staff with a worn shade of black, a crystal placed in the socket at the tip. By his side rested a long sword, forged in the heart of the fortress in which he had his origin.
Registered: Sept 26, 2015 23:22:54 GMT -8
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Post by Dârothil on Oct 2, 2015 23:19:51 GMT -8
Dârothil did not carry the emotional capacity of a human, he was a wraith, a servant. Dârothil walked up Godwin, placing the blade very gently against his neck. "Die... Now" The voice commanded. Dârothil swung the sword with fierce form, and in the very moment it connected with Godwin's flesh, a powerful wave of energy shot out into Dârothil, sending him on his back.
Dârothil got back on his feet almost before he had hit the ground, ready to eviscerate the man. There was no one there... Nothing. Dârothil looked around confused, a furious hiss ringing out from behind his helmet. Whatever magic had sent Godwin to his fortress had only kept him there temporarily, and when his life was in danger, it retrieved him.
Dârothil was powerful and experienced when it came to magic, but he could not put his finger on what had taken place. Perhaps some sort of rift magic, some charm from an imp. The powerful energy lingered in the room, and Dârothil could feel just how strong this spell had been. The man could be anywhere now, but wherever that was it was out of Dârothil's reach.
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Ravenous
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: Unknown
Clothes and Equipment: Ravenous wears a set of heavy plate armor, enhanced by dark energies, and decorated with the skulls of the fallen. He carries the Ravager, a deadly greatsword said to consume the souls of the fallen.
Registered: Oct 3, 2015 8:18:55 GMT -8
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Post by Ravenous on Oct 3, 2015 8:32:02 GMT -8
Ravenous marches with determination towards Nâshagrar. He grunts with each step, his blade hanging on his back, and dark energies emanating from his very person. Coming to the forefront of the fortress, the Death Knight calls out in an ancient dialect, one of darkness and corruption.
"Whosoever holds this fortress will come out to speak with me." Ravenous yells at whoever is in the fortress as if commanding them, but does not display the willingness to fight.
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Runaerilar
New
Roleplay posts: 8
Physical Description: It appears a man, a very tall and broad person draped in black cloth from head to toe. There is no flesh visible, although the cloth seems filled out, as if wrapped around a strong frame. A sword hangs down the side of this being, the scabbard long and black, engraved with symbols. The hands and feet of this character are covered in layered metal, and on first glance could almost appear as scale.
The cloth has withered, and it is quite dirty from extensive travel. A hood is pulled over what appears a head, although there is no face to be found, only darkness.
Registered: Sept 20, 2015 15:43:40 GMT -8
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Post by Runaerilar on Oct 3, 2015 9:51:48 GMT -8
As Ravenous made his way across the pass, shadows scurried around atop the walls, cackling at him, laughing at him. The laughing echoed over the mountainside, assuring Ravenous that something was watching him. A gentle creak sounded from the gate, and as it swung open Ravenous would be able to spot Runaerilar.
The wraith gazed upon Ravenous from behind its hood, wondering. "How did you come upon this place?" a voice echoed inside Ravenous' head, and it was clear that it was Runaerilar asking. As the fog lifted, Ravenous would be able to see multiple orcs patrolling the walls, some watching him.
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Ravenous
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: Unknown
Clothes and Equipment: Ravenous wears a set of heavy plate armor, enhanced by dark energies, and decorated with the skulls of the fallen. He carries the Ravager, a deadly greatsword said to consume the souls of the fallen.
Registered: Oct 3, 2015 8:18:55 GMT -8
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Post by Ravenous on Oct 3, 2015 11:24:46 GMT -8
Ravenous paid no mind to any of the cackling, no mind to the orcs, and no mind to his surroundings. To Ravenous, none of these things mattered. All that mattered was Runaerilar, and if the death knight had no helm he'd surely be seen grinning from ear to ear.
Ravenous proceeded with long, proud strides towards Runaerilar and halted a few feet away from him. "How I came upon this place isn't the question you should be asking. You should be asking why I came to this place. And that, my fellow darkling, is one of great benefit to both of us. Whatever name I may have held before, I do not know it, but here I stand as Ravenous. Tell me wraith, what is your ambition?"
Ravenous was seeking allies, but for what purpose remained unclear. Nevertheless, he looked upon the wraith like a newfound ally.
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Runaerilar
New
Roleplay posts: 8
Physical Description: It appears a man, a very tall and broad person draped in black cloth from head to toe. There is no flesh visible, although the cloth seems filled out, as if wrapped around a strong frame. A sword hangs down the side of this being, the scabbard long and black, engraved with symbols. The hands and feet of this character are covered in layered metal, and on first glance could almost appear as scale.
The cloth has withered, and it is quite dirty from extensive travel. A hood is pulled over what appears a head, although there is no face to be found, only darkness.
Registered: Sept 20, 2015 15:43:40 GMT -8
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Post by Runaerilar on Oct 3, 2015 11:35:49 GMT -8
Who was this fool to approach Nâshagrar with such arrogance. He had not answered the question, and was now rambling about something that wasn't relevant to Runaerilar. A wraith did not exercise free will, nor did it hold opinions, it merely served.
"Why are you here? How did you come by this place?" The wraith asked once more, almost as if it hadn't heard or didn't care about what Ravenous said.
If someone had found Nâshagrar, then something was entirely wrong. The fortress was hidden in a mountain range in the middle of a barren wasteland. That wasteland was surrounded by mountains, the only obvious way into the land through a massive gate. Perhaps Ravenous had taken one of the lesser known paths through the mountains. There were no trees, no people, no grass or animals roaming these lands, it was desolate.
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Ravenous
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: Unknown
Clothes and Equipment: Ravenous wears a set of heavy plate armor, enhanced by dark energies, and decorated with the skulls of the fallen. He carries the Ravager, a deadly greatsword said to consume the souls of the fallen.
Registered: Oct 3, 2015 8:18:55 GMT -8
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Post by Ravenous on Oct 3, 2015 11:39:49 GMT -8
"I am Ravenous," the death knight reiterated. "I can sense the darkness here, and so I've come to find its source, Wraith. I seek allies in this New World." Ravenous was an ancient being, and not accustomed to the 'New World'. "Who do you serve? Let him know that another wishes to serve him."
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Al Múrin
Established
Roleplay posts: 14
Physical Description: The character itself is merely a shadow in the mortal realm, a manifestation struggling to stay alive, fighting tooth and nail to appear human.
Registered: Sept 21, 2015 12:23:15 GMT -8
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Post by Al Múrin on Oct 3, 2015 11:47:44 GMT -8
A powerful presence swept across the mountain pass. The wind howled as both Ravenous and Runaerilar suddenly became aware that they were being observed.
"Ravenous" A deep voice bellowed out into the pass, causing the orcs on the wall to cower in fear. A crackling chuckle was heard, the voice now whispered "I rule these lands".
The voice didn't have a source, there was no one here but the orcs, Ravenous and Runaerilar. Suddenly the clouds above Nâshagrar gathered, turning a dark shade of ruby as lightning cracked the sky. The sun was being blocked out at this point, clouds gathering in the sky as far as the eye could see.
"You stand before Al Múrin".
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Ravenous
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: Unknown
Clothes and Equipment: Ravenous wears a set of heavy plate armor, enhanced by dark energies, and decorated with the skulls of the fallen. He carries the Ravager, a deadly greatsword said to consume the souls of the fallen.
Registered: Oct 3, 2015 8:18:55 GMT -8
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Post by Ravenous on Oct 3, 2015 14:10:44 GMT -8
Ravenous' grim smile beneath his helm only grew. "At last," he exclaimed. "Great Al Murin! Command me! For I am yours!"
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