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Post by Richter Abend on Aug 20, 2014 23:38:19 GMT -6
Descending onto the battlefield felt like dropping from the heavens and falling into another world. It was a dark world filled with death and chaos that did not mar the world above. By entering this world, the Ilian was forsaking the asylum provided by the wall, by the seat of command, to join his men in the blood-soaked earth of war. The lack of safety and control, the realization that every move could now be his last, knowing that to lose focus for a second could spell the end of his mortal existence: it was a rush like none other. This was where he belonged, with his feet in the muck and his axe in the air, bringing the force of his will down upon his foes.
For most, the chaos of battle was an incomprehensible landscape and steel and flesh that was just as easy to get lost in as it was to enter. One second you were charging at a foe, and the next you were on your back, dead. But one could only spend so much time in battle before its chaos became order, and it’s incomprehensibility became second nature. To Richter, down here in the thick of it, time moved slower. The commander could feel every splash of mud kicked up by the feet of enemy and allied soldiers alike, and he could see every body that fell to the dirt in defeat. Weapons that soared towards him, deadly razors slicing through the air, were easily batted away, and the war cries of his foes did not startle or scare, but served only to signal an oncoming attack. Like a painter reading into the brush strokes of a painting to decide where was best to leave his next, Richter read the ebb and flow of battle to determine his next move.
His heart pounding in his chest with the rhythm of a wardrum, Richter surged forward, cutting around the allied lines to make quick work of the gap that separated himself and the siege engines. He did not fear the refuse that these pirate commanders of Hargus would try to throw in his path, magic or no, but the Ilian recognized that between Aaron and Wyatt, he was being given an opportunity for a fast, clean, surgical strike. No need to throw away lives trying with a brute force approach.
Of course the nearby brigands and bandits moved in to stop the advancing squad, but to do so was foolish. Intent on reaching its goal, the Sacaen strikeforce moved with swiftness and ferocity. It cut down the men that stepped into its path like a swarm of locusts tearing around the edge of wheatfield, and at the front of this group stormed Richter. A juggernaut of icy death, he moved with unstoppable force, leaving behind a trail of broken, half-frozen, hail-battered corpses in his wake. It was a small gift to the pirates that he was taking the path of least resistance, for the havoc he wreaked was only limited by the amount of bodies thrown in his way.
“Come on, keep pushing forward! Don’t let this offal slow you down!”
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Wyatt
Hero
The Volcano
How can someone win if winning means that someone loses?
Posts: 463
Etruria Fame: 2
Sacae Fame: -1
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Post by Wyatt on Aug 21, 2014 0:01:06 GMT -6
"You dare challenge me with a useless scrap of iron?!" Wyatt roared. Even in the catastrophic danger he was in, he could appreciate the silliness of what he was doing. Still, he had a job to do here, and this was all part of it.
He saw the pirate aiming to bring his club to bear on his own axe, and had to question the man's sanity. All Wyatt would have to do is tilt his weapon up or down to dodge it totally. The issue is that doing so would leave him just as open as it would his opponent. He recalled, in the midst of the battle, his time sparring with Mana. He'd tried to force clashes on her before, using his strength to overpower her. Every time, she'd beaten him soundly by not giving him the chance. She would yield, and his power would be mostly wasted, leaving her to seize the opportunity.
He recalled the bruises he'd gained from that.
So he let the weapons clash. As the stone axe crashed against the metal club, however, Wyatt relaxed. He let Oya win. Where the pirate was expecting to meet great power and resistance, he found nothing. Wyatt's axe was pushed back in the same arc he'd swung it, gracefully.
Oya, on the other hand, had met with no resistance, causing a massive overswing. Probably didn't help that he was swinging with both hands and all of his might.
Wyatt took advantage of the momentary loss of stance and jerked his left arm forward. His shield pressed out, intending to slam the pirate in the face. As he did this, Wyatt allowed his right arm to move with the axe's natural motion, rotating his shoulder to lift it high. He brought it down quickly with a deadly overhead cleave.
Even if he missed the strike, the axe would hit the ground, and Wyatt knew that would cause the magic to erupt from it.
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Post by Oya on Aug 21, 2014 10:43:15 GMT -6
"Crap", spoke Oya as he realized his mistake. His weapon knocked the Hero's away with little to know force. It was a ploy and he fell for it. With little to no time to react Oya received a shield to the face. The blow was strong enough to knock the young pirate off his feet and caused him to tumble backwards. Almost immediately following the hero stuck with his axe aiming to end the young fighters life with one single blow. Oya's reflexes however saved his life in this small skirmish.
As Oya fell backwards he rolled to his right off instinct. The roll saved his life as the axe came down he had already moved out of its way. The fight however was not over yet. "By Hartmut", spoke Oya as he placed his hand on his face. The pain was almost unbearable. Taking a shield to the face was not a blow one could easily toss off and his opponent was not going to let the young warrior off so easily. As the axe came down and hit the ground the magic from within activated and lava began to spew out like water. The pirate had only a fracture of a second to react to it. In a panic of fear Oya kicked off the ground with all the strength his legs could muster. At the moment it seemed like a good idea. Oya was able to avoid the spewing magma and not end up a burn husk. However the move was a two edged sword.
As Oya kicked off the ground he flew forward with the enhanced power of Xigshaw. His legs were pushing at far greater force than he though. The pirate flew forward and slammed his left shoulder into the harden soil. The blow dislocated it and sent oya into a tumble as his body skip across the ground like a rock through a pond. As Oya recovered he felt not only the sharp pain in his face, but also in his left shoulder. With blood dripping from his nose and a dislocated shoulder Oya stood up and turned toward the Hero. Things were not looking good for the pirate.
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Post by Valcrist on Aug 22, 2014 3:17:22 GMT -6
“Come on, keep pushing forward! Don’t let this offal slow you down!”
O-offal? What did that even mean? Oh well, don't think about it there was probably more important things to worry about. Valcrist followed right behind Richter as he sort of ripped through the lines like some sort of powerful guy with an ice axe. It's a nice axe by the way, he should see if he could get Richter to let him see it after the battle was over. It wasn't what he was used to seeing in terms of magic weapons, it looked more like some kind of severed monster's limb then an actual worked weapon, was that dragon-bone? It looked like dragon bone, it wasn't the sort of material you see often. Or ever actually, he's only seen a small amount of it in his life, first when he worked with his mother back in Nabata. Some opulent nobleman traveled with the caravans to commission a blade of worked dragonbone, undoubtedly bought in some sort of auction then him being a mighty warrior to slay the dragon himself. He wasn't allowed to touch it at the time, something about the material being 'touchy' or something, or maybe it was just his mother trying to make sure he didn't muck things up. He was only nine at the time, barely able to lift a hammer. The second time was when he was traveling with Valin and Heygus, it was part of Valin's 'specialty' wares, going for at least 4000 gold itself. Maybe if he had been richer he'd have nabbed it, but he was sort of preoccupied by the mysterious metal Fang was composed of. It's said the metal could cleave through magic itself, but he hasn't exactly had a chance to test that.
He caught himself daydreaming and quickly snapped back into focus, but it was sort of unnecessary. Richter was kinda doing everything. Made him feel a touch useless really, it was probably because he was following right behind him. There was this whirlwind of frost and ice in front of him and he really didn't see and opportunity to contribute in any meaningful fashion. His job was to follow Richter, they were slicing through the battlefield in a single stroke to destroy the catapults that pelted them with flames. Something he in particular was anxious to do, since he hated the darn things. Richter only just started to deal with them, Valcrist had to contend with those things all day. He would be glad when they were done for.
If he wanted he could probably pass by Richter, but with the way he was cleaving that weapon about, he'd likely be caught in the crossfireice. The pirates that survived the onslaught were quickly slain by the soldiers, and the ones attack from the side wouldn't dare come so close to Richter. Of which Valcrist was traveling behind, he was grateful for Richter's strength and skill in the end however. He prefered things being 'too easy' to painful.
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Post by Willow on Aug 26, 2014 9:08:02 GMT -6
Willow grimaced as she saw the duel unfolding. This wasn't a good fight... And there were enemies coming from multiple directions, too.
"Nya's Raiders! CHARGE! Swarm them with our might, and drag them down like the carrion they are! Destroy this group of savages, exterminate this nest of vermin!"
Pointing her finger straight at the enemy Hero, the one with that damned lava axe, Willow unleashed all of her 'righteous' fury in a blast of Luce for the ages. It was as if someone had placed a pressure cooker on top of an active volcano.
Needless to say, the top burst off.
A shimmer at first, then a glow, then a blinding golden light erupted from the very body and soul of the Valkyrie, forming a huge wave, which advanced at great speed towards the area of the duel. The great wave towered over both sides, and eyes and heads turned as the specter bore down on the two axemen.
Willow watched, the fever of battle flushing her pale complexion, as the great wave neared its target.
"Oya... Be safe. May my aid bring you victory... I beg of you, return to me."
Meanwhile, the soldiers of the Bandit side, emboldened by this show of vitality and indomitable spirit, pushed forward with new vigor, units working cohesively and pushing forward like ants upon a caterpillar. Battle-cries rang out as the raiders cut and stabbed their way forward. They fought with new intensity, new strength -- their commanders had instilled that in them.
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Wyatt
Hero
The Volcano
How can someone win if winning means that someone loses?
Posts: 463
Etruria Fame: 2
Sacae Fame: -1
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Post by Wyatt on Aug 27, 2014 19:27:22 GMT -6
Wyatt saw that the pirate was vulnerable after that combination of strikes. Battered and bruised while lying on the ground, this would be a perfect time to dive in for a finishing move.
But attacking someone prone on the ground like that would leave him exposed to those around him. He was a high profile target on the battlefield, and exposing himself to any opponent was not a risk he could take.
So he held back, not advancing on the downed opponent. He didn't take his eyes off of him, but neither did he close enough distance for the orange-haired kid to strike at him. Instead, he focused his attention on the surging front line before him. Something had instilled a new fervor in these men, and Wyatt wasn't sure what it was. He saw the blast of magic coming towards him, unsure of what it did. He raised his shield as it struck out at him, but seemed to do nothing. How odd, had the spell been all a flash?
Nevertheless, being too aggressive here wouldn't be right. He'd leave his sides exposed and potentially take a dumb shot. They should retreat towards the wall. Yes, that was the right call. Pushing forward here was foolish.
Wait... why was he out here in the first place?
Richter was here... deep in enemy territory by now. If Wyatt pulled back, they'd route him and his forces. No! He needed to keep their attention, above all else.
"Aaron! Go wild! I'll cover you!" Wyatt shouted over the din of battle as the bandit tide began to come in. He'd stand against it, like a rock on the shore. As long as he had his 'artillery' behind him, he knew they could blunt the assault. It didn't seem like the other side had a sufficiently powerful mage in their corner. They'd lose any ranged advantage at all if Wyatt could buy enough time for Richter and Valcrist.
With a roar, Wyatt dropped his axe again. He wasn't aiming the magma towards the pirate from before, who lay mostly forgotten and out of melee range. Instead, Wyatt returned his focus to the army. True as always, none of them dared get close to him and the deadly magma that spewed from the ground. This made their formation begin to fail as they pushed on the outward edges in a chaotic mess.
The bandits certainly had zeal, but they had no stable structure to their ranks. No coordination and no chance for teamwork, if they even believed in it to start with. The Sacaens would watch each others blind spots in the chaos of battle, but the bandits cared only for their own hides. All Wyatt had to do was keep pushing...
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Post by Oya on Aug 28, 2014 11:55:59 GMT -6
"Curses", spoke Oya as he held his shoulder. The battle was not going in his favor and he could see where this duel would end. Suddenly a wave of zealous pirates made their way to attacking the lava axe. This however would serve as a useful distraction for Oya. "Everyone with a hand axe attack", shouted Oya. "Focus all attacks on the man in crimson armor and the Magma Axe", shouted the young pirate. His order came as surprise to some as they figured Oya would try to finish the duel, but for the ones who really knew him it didn't. Oya was pragmatic at his core. He fought the duel in order to try and raise the moral of the men. At this point it was clear who the better fighter was and Oya was not going to loss his life here. He would rather take out the man with a barrage of hand axes and then stomp out the remaining enemy and loss face than die and still loss face.
"Oya", spoke a pirate as he moved forward.
"Tomas", spoke the pirate as he greeted the man. Give them a second to attempt to kill that man and then blow the horn to retreat", spoke Oya to the surprise of the pirate. "We are going to pull back and hit their units with a wave of catapult shots and archer volleys."
"Wait what about the other commanders Troy and Farkus", asked the Tomas.
"Send a word for them to fall back", spoke Oya. "If they don't then we will be forced to concentrate our fire on the middle of the battlefield. That would avoid hitting our own men and still do damage to the enemy."
"Understood", spoke Tomas as he rushed off to deliver Oya's message. The pirate knew after the day was over he was going to get it not only from his brothers but his mother. Failure was not something they took lightly, but Oya mission was not to win a duel, but rather to assault the city. So far he was doing well in that aspect, but the loss duel was a stain on his personal honor.
"I need to give a message to the commander", spoke Oya as he held his shoulder. It was still knocked out of place. The pirate was going to have to have it popped back in. As Oya looked toward the catapults he noticed something he did not see before. There was a line of dead frozen men leading back that way. The enemy was forcing their way through while Oya and the others were distracted with the battle and the duel. "Sneaky little", spoke Oya as he quickly turned toward another pirate. "You", he shouted. He did not know the man's name, nor did he care. "I want you to send word to the archers now. Tell them to turn around and fire a volley of arrows toward the advancing enemy units", spoke Oya.
"Wait I ain't no", spoke the man, but Oya cut him off.
"Shut up and do what I say", shouted Oya. The pirate gave off a murderous glare and had malice in his voice.
"Understood", spoke the man as he ran off as fast as he could. Oya could only hope he would reach the archers in time to hit the enemy before they made it toward the catapults. Still with the defenses that Willow had set up earlier and the heavy infantry protecting it he really did not have much to worry about. Well unless they pull out that magic they had before. The enemy seemed well verse in the user of magic and have been using it to turn the tide of battle during this whole siege. It would not surprise him if the enemy was going to use it again to attempt to destroy the catapults.
"I need to be there", spoke Oya, but the pirate did not move in that direction. Instead he began to search for Willow, or any of the other healers they had on the battlefield. He need his shoulder popped back in place and his injuries healed.
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Post by Richter Abend on Aug 29, 2014 13:49:40 GMT -6
Richter’s rampage came to a halt as the Ilian commander noticed one of the men in his surgical assault squad fall to an oncoming bandit, pushed to the ground and impaled on a makeshift spear. Even over the din of the battle, Richter could hear his bloodcurdling screams of pain and anguish. And that was only the vanguard: after the first man fell, more bandits came surging forward, one immediately slicing into another man's neck while the rest engaged Richter's team in battle over the body of the fallen Sacaen. The unexpected assault caused the rest of the nearby men to scatter lest they meet the same unfortunate fate. So much for elite crew.
Damn it! Where these men being commanded from? Richter couldn't help but be furious that the sideswipe had killed not only a few of his men, but his squad's momentum as well. He had seen the explosions, and thought that had meant that Wyatt and Aaron were taking on the left flank. Clearly that wasn't the case, so what exactly were they doing over there? Either the enemy commander was more aware than he had predicted, which he doubted, or someone wasn't doing their job well enough. Damn it! You couldn't trust anyone else to get the important tasks done! He should have gone after the midget with the club! Cut off the head of the beast first!
Looking to the enemy lines, Richter saw another wave of bandits approaching, their weapons ready and their mouths twisted into hungry snarls. Flush with anger and growling like a lion whose hunt had been interfered with, Richter tore his axe from the rent-open chest of a fallen pirate, and as he did so, an icy gale began to whip up around the dragonbone weapon’s head. The axe seemed to absorb his combat rage, and increased the volume of the frigid swirl twofold. While his men dispersed, Richter simply stood and stared at the oncoming brigands, an unmoving sentinel defending against a horde. They continued to charge, but just before the swarm of ravenous bandits reached him, the pink haired Ilian roared. With one hand, he whirled his axe above his head then swung it into the air in front of him, loosing the cloud of icy anger that had built up around its blades into the mass of enemy soldiers. The frigid blades of hail tore through the oncoming enemy ranks, felling pirate after surprised pirate as if they had just run face first into a deadly blizzard.
But one pirate, surprisingly enough managed to make it through the storm. He swung his cutlass at Richter, grazing the Ilian commander's face, and as a reward found his trachea crushed by a devastating cross punch from the pink haired warrior's thick armored gauntlet. He gurgled once, then dropped like a rock. But the sharp pain did manage to pull Richter out of his battle rage, and it took a quick second for him to touch his face and examine the blood left on his fingers before he realized he had been struck. Hmm, this axe’s magic was powerful, destructive, but it didn't make him invincible. Had he not moved fast enough, he may very well be dead.
“I didn’t stop those men so you men could run like cowards!” shouted Richter, bringing his axe down into the skull of an unfortunate pirate that had hoped to catch the commander off-guard. “Keep on those siege engines! That’s the whole damn reason we’re out here!” He pulled the axe out of the first pirate and slammed it into the gut of a second that had had a similar idea to the first. The blow practically split him in two, spilling his blood and guts onto the battlefield. Richter took little notice of the carnage, turning instead to shoot the blond haired smith, his second, a short glance.
“Valcrist, you take point! Get these men to those siege engines! I want them destroyed! I don’t care what you have to do to get it done, just do it!” Richter turned back towards the horde of enemy pirates, stepping up next to a tattered group of defending soldiers that had advanced into the vacuum created by the Ilian’s aggressive push. “I’ll catch up.”
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Post by Valcrist on Aug 30, 2014 1:34:32 GMT -6
The first man died, so that was a thing. It seemed that their unstoppable charge of destruction was in fact stopped and not quite as destructive as they anticipated. Maybe it was his fault, he's been slacking a bit in the bloody murder category. Of course getting all bummed out about it wouldn't help anyone so instead he gripped his blade with vigor. Their assault met with resistance and it stopped them for the time being, and many of the men were getting a bit hesitant. A few of them died, it was a rather sudden awakening to the smith who had been thinking only a few moments that things were 'too easy'. It was almost as if this was a punishment for the arrogance, but thinking about it wouldn't help him.
He moved with incredible speed, weaving about the bandits that moved to strike at him. When they swung their blows met nothing but air as winds swirled about his body, his steps were more like small leaps with the airs whipping about him carrying him farther with each step. While Richter assaulted the oncoming horde almost single handedly, Valcrist focused on the forces already in their ranks. His speed allowed him to leap from man to man with great celerity, his blade singing as it sliced through the air and into the flesh of those that stood in its way. A bandit was assaulting one the troops they had brought with them, the man was locked in combat with the sacaen's swift blade but neither was gaining ground until Valcrist swooped and sliced clean through the bandit's defenses and silenced him with a single swing, disemboweling the poor man and killing him before he even hit the ground. He wasted no time and lept to the next target, leaving a strong gust of wind in his wake. It was almost like he was flying from target to target, Valcrist doing pirouette and slashing down with a powerful diagonal slash and sending a wave of razor winds at a bandit and tearing him to shreds.
The tempest about his sword only seemed to hone it's edge to a impossible degree as he sliced clean through another man's poor armor, the blade sinking in from the gap between the neck and shoulder and down clean halfway through his chest. He slammed his foot into the corpse and pulled his heavy blade from its lifeless form, a ribbon of red following its trail. While he wasn't nearly racking up the same sort of body count Richter no doubt could acclaim to, he managed to slay the bandits that had managed to slip past his monstrous onslaught. He needed to save the soldiers fighting with them, he needed to get them ready to charge again. They needed to take these catapults out at all costs.
One bandit tried to take him with his back turned, but his footwork was too quick for the man to follow and Valcrist wound up evading the strike and slamming the hilt of his sword into the man's face, sending him reeling back before the smith followed the strike up with a stab straight through the gut, his silvery blade stained red. A burst of wind pushing out of the swordsman pushed the corpse back, almost like a wave of force, off of the man's blade.
Richter kept the horde off their back and Valcrist took care of the ones who had already broke through, but it was a short lived victory. Richter turned to the smith and told him to go it alone. Which... Probably scared him more than any of these bandits managed to do. Him? Lead? What was Richter talking about? He could try to challenge the man's decision, but now wasn't the time fore such things. An axe flew through the air, right towards him and he managed to barely twist his body in time to dodge it from finding a new home in his chest. That could have been the end of him, he needed to be more careful. He was fast, there was no doubt, but if he didn't focus he would be caught unaware and that might as well just be the end.
"Alright men! Gather around me! We're going to make a push while Richter covers us! He's willing to fight an entire army for us! We can at least do our damn jobs!" Valcrist shouted at the men who had scattered, his earlier performance of saving them coupled with Richter's monstrous show of strength of holding off the horde was enough to instill just the smallest amount of hope and confidence in these men. That was all they needed. He turned to Richter just as he ran off, he wanted to tell him to stay safe, but those would be wasted words. He probably wouldn't even be able to hear them, the battlefield was a cacophony of violence and shouts. If he had time to shout, he had time to move.
With Valcrist being the new leader of the pack they charged forward, he moving slower than he could so the rest of the men could keep up.
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Dietrich Landrik
Mercenary
GAZE AT MEIN ROLLED SLEEVES, NOOBKOPF
Posts: 81
Sacae Fame: -1
Western Isles Fame: 1
Profession: Mercenary Marine
Affinity: Thunder
Profile: Profile - Journal
OoC Alias: Synkkis
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Post by Dietrich Landrik on Aug 31, 2014 0:09:07 GMT -6
The grand melee in the center continued to brew, although he could see there was a bit of an end to the red flashes in the center of the mist. A lull in the combat? Was Richter dead? Regardless, he couldn't do much against it either way. Berg, standing on the parapets as he was filling a gabeon with dirt noticed the flurries in the air to their flank. "Hey Landrik! Somethin's goin' on over there!" the tubby sharpshooter reported, pointing to the North-Northwest of the catapult positions.
At first, Landrik couldn't see or recognize the telltale signs of a magic weapon firing off. With a wisp in the air, he caught the glimpse of the ice crystals. "Well hot damn, Berg. You've got some good eyes. Get armed, we have to be ready in case they break through." the swordsman ordered, snatching his leather armor and helmet.
He had not even waited on a response although it came quickly. "Understood." Berg sharply acknowledged the command.
Strapping his helmet on, Landrik reported to the commander of the heavy guard - this time with less fire and brimstone in his tone. "We've got an incursion on our right flank. We absolutely have to be ready for this raiding party. I highly recommend we drop our shovels and get prepared for combat, Sir." The overbearing acute report almost shocked the man as he reacted in the only way he knew how.
"Of course I know that, sea legs. Quit jumping down my throat any time you see the enemy - it's getting old, blondie." he grumbled, his body language betraying what he was saying. He signaled to his junior officers to pay attention to him. He made the very simple gesture of raising his axe in the air for them to prepare for combat. "So what'd'ya think, blondie? Will you slay the Winter Lion or am I going to have to do it?" he teased the swordsman with a sly smile.
"Whatever guarantees us victory." Dietrich simply responded with an unchanging expression as his mind started to prepare itself. He really hoped the team wouldn't reach them at all, but he was more worried about the center. The siege would be for naught if they had siege engines but no one to charge into the city. "I'm just a little disappointed we can't turn these bad boys onto those flankers. It'd certainly be interesting." the marine joked in return.
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Aaron Winsett
Sage
Seeker of Knowledge
Knowledge is a weapon. I intend to be formidably armed.
Posts: 419
Sacae Fame: 1
Lycia Fame: 2
Profession: Student of Magic
OoC Alias: Feldsky
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Post by Aaron Winsett on Aug 31, 2014 15:32:19 GMT -6
Aaron continued his work as the duel between Wyatt and the enemy's champion continued. More and more fog kept rolling off, only to be burnt off as the molten axe of the "Volcano" let loose its power again and again. It was a basic effect, but there was a method behind this madness. The longer he maintained his hold on Fimbulvetr, the more water he drew in from the surrounding field of battle. He didn't let it go once it steamed off though. He'd drawn quite a bit over the last few minutes, until the fog behind him was so dense that his eyes could no longer penetrate it at all.
The fight kept going, Wyatt showboating like none other, and the both of them dancing to and fro in a way the the green-haired sage had never expected to see two axemen manage. Neither was able to score any real decisive hits before Wyatt finally managed to get a good face bash in with his shield. Aaron, standing about twenty feet behind Wyatt now, was expecting to see the red-haired smith charge in for the kill, but instead the shield toting axeman just stood there waiting. That was when he heard Wyatt.
Now going wild had never been this mage's philosophy, whether in spellcasting, or in life in general. He got the jist of the message though as he saw the wave of magically empowered enemies charging in. Some looked positively rabid as they charged. That other caster must have cut loose with everything he had. It was almost as intimidating as the wave of fighters coming for them.
"Bah! A little more warning would have been nice, Wyatt!" The sage cut off his connection to his Elfire tome, and seized hold fully of the shocking cold of the Book of the Ending Winter. With only a few moments left to work, his options were limited, but he still had enough to work with. Especially with the excess of eager water spirits on these plains. As he worked, both of the sage's hands took on an icy blue glow, and he began spelling out specifically what was going to happen in a voice that seemed as cold as the north wind. The fog began to liquefy, water falling from the air around them all, but it didn't stay where it fell. Once it hit the ground, it gathered together into streams which began running towards the mage until he stood at the center of a whirling cyclone of water.
One hand shot out, and half of the water followed as though a river's damn had suddenly burst. Whitecaps danced atop the waters as the wave shot out, passing around Wyatt on either side and then crashed into the charging lines, knocking aside some of the late thrown weapons as they came at the axeman. The front runners were knocked back a bit from the force, but force wasn't the true strength in his spell. He let the water fall to the ground once the front was disrupted enough, but through magic kept if from running off. Instead, what was left of the charge now had to slog through knee deep water.
More water still swirled around the sage, making its way around him on the ground before arcing up over his shoulders and then twisting back around again. As an anima spellcaster, everything he did built upon or used what he had just finished. Anyone could throw a firebolt. He preferred the depth of possibilities that came from layering spell on top of spell. Not suited for the rigors of a battlefield of this size perhaps, but time would tell what came of it. For now, he'd disrupted the charge in their immediate vicinity.
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Wyatt
Hero
The Volcano
How can someone win if winning means that someone loses?
Posts: 463
Etruria Fame: 2
Sacae Fame: -1
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Post by Wyatt on Aug 31, 2014 20:32:19 GMT -6
Wyatt had been close enough to the young axe man when he got up and tried to hobble away. He'd been fortunate to hear the declaration, and the order. Hell! How had he possibly seen Richter from the middle of a melee in a fog cloud? Kid must have had eyes of the gods themselves.
No matter. The kid was running in the opposite direction of the archers, trying to get as far away from Wyatt as possible. Let him run, killing him was never the point. Whatever magic that had washed over the area was failing quickly, as rational caution and fear seeped back into the hearts of men. Wyatt saw the axes coming his way, and raised his shield. He felt fewer hits than he expected, likely due to Aaron's magic.
"Advance notice is a little hard in a war!" Wyatt shouted back. Still, he noticed that the area was filled with water now. It didn't disperse, it pooled up around them. No doubt Aaron was planning something. To use his axe here would risk upsetting it, turning the water into more steam.
"Be right back! Wyatt shouted, leaping forward and to the side with his axe. His target this time, however, was not Oya. He aimed for the messenger who was trying to retreat from the lines, but had been slowed by Aaron's magic. The man was trying to wade through knee high water that had suddenly appeared, which obviously slowed him down. Wyatt, however, had been in a dry spot. Aaron's water had harmlessly flowed around him, leaving him untouched. Since he'd jumped, his way was clear and he could bring the axe down with no difficulty.
However, he did not summon the fire this time. His axe remained dull and cool (relatively speaking) as he slammed it down on the man's collar bone.
A giant slab of rock hitting you in the collar bone was, oddly enough, still fatal, even if it wasn't on fire.
The man crumpled to the ground in a heap of muscle and blood as Wyatt landed in the same water as the rest of the brigands. He held his axe up, trusting in the heat within it to offer him some protection from what he suspected Aaron was going to do.
He'd been playing with fire and ice all battle, so Wyatt had a pretty good idea what he was planning.
"Do it!" he shouted.
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Post by Willow on Sept 1, 2014 16:17:03 GMT -6
Willow moved towards her husband, intercepting him as he came behind the front of their lines.
"Oya!!!"
The Valkyrie raised her staff, taking note of how he was favoring one shoulder over the other. Lowering the staff and grabbing onto his injured joint, she found the dislocated part and slammed it with her hands, eliciting a sharp pop as it moved back into position.
"Hold still, babe, I'll patch you up."
Raising the staff and focusing, lowering her eyes and releasing her tenderness, Willow bathed Oya in the soft glow of her magic.
As the light faded away, so too did the lacerations and abrasions covering Oya.
"We need to pull back. They're trying to punch through our lines, Oya! We should form tighter lines and fall back so that we can regroup. They'll have to stop the assault then. We need to protect our investments. Give the order to fall back and form a tighter line!"
Turning to the battlefield, the Valkyrie cursed the fog that was beginning to obscure the combatants.
"This is obviously a way to conceal their movements. We need to be smart. Sometimes, you have to pull back!"
Releasing a blast of Luce, the Valkyrie attempted to stall the advancing enemies to buy time for their own men to retreat. Of course, if Oya refused, then it was of little use...
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Post by Oya on Sept 2, 2014 10:28:51 GMT -6
"Thanks a lot Willow", spoke Oya as he began to move his arm. The pirate was ready to get back into action. For a moment he mediated on willow words. Things were not going well on the front. The enemy magic was breaking their formations and their moral was plummeting. Oya loss of that duel hurt their forces as much as any spell the enemy threw out. It was insane really how the enemy sudden powered up and fought back. At one point Oya was sure they were about to break through the enemy lines and burn their city to the ground. Now it looked as if they were going to loss the field.
"Very well Willow we nee...", spoke Oya as a sudden sound roared over the battlefield. A great horn could be heard over the fighting. The sound radiated across the plane. From the bandit side of the battlefield pirates from the mane ship were blowing the great horns. The sound marked a call of retreat from all the pirate forces in the field. Immediately a wave of fresh troops from the ships was marched onto the field. Their purpose was to form a defensive line and allow their other forces to retreat without worry of being attacked from the back.
"Retreat", as cry came out from the pirate commanders as their men abandoned the front lines and began to fall back. With the city of heroes and the setting sun at their back the pirate forces fled back to the encampment that had been built near the shore.
"Dang", spoke Oya as he heard the cry. There was only one person who could have called for the great horn. His mother must have seen the field of battle and decided it was best to give up. Well that or she did not want to extend the fighting into the night. Either one was a good reason to pull back. "Looks like the decision was made for us", spoke Oya as he looked at Willow. "You mind giving me a ride back to the catapults", he spoke. "I want to make sure we get them out before anything else", spoke the pirate.
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 5, 2014 0:55:12 GMT -6
Richter had just sundered the neck of an unfortunate pirate, cleaving his head from his shoulders, when the calls to retreat began to sound in the distance. Blood came spurting out of the man’s throat, covering Richter’s axe and arms in a warm, red coat of his lifeblood. The brigands standing before him stood frozen in their tracks, arms wavering but weapons still held at the ready. None of them wanted to admit defeat, to turn tail and run from the biggest score they’d ever know with Hargus waiting to greet them with their failure, but none of them wanted to continue fighting against this immensely powerful warrior who could end three men with but one swing. This unholy warrior whose axe looked like it had been forged from the carcass of a demon. This raging warrior who barely flinched at the scores of men that he killed, who only roared as he killed more. No amount of gold, women, or plunder, or even the threat of death at the hands of the Bandit King, could encourage them to continue fighting against this red armored frost devil that stood before them. What good was a looting if you weren’t alive to see it?
And so they retreated. At first it was just one bandit breaking rank, turning tail and sprinting towards the relative safety of the ships that lined the shore, but it only took one flight to shatter the extraordinarily weakened morale of the remaining pirates. Following suit, the rest began to cry out in fear, making like the first and smartest of their lot in a mad dash to the beach. Richter merely looked on, a statuesque sentinel overlooking a field of death as the as the assaulting forces were routed. Why was the enemy commander ordering his men to pull back? Had Wyatt been a bit too effective in his distraction? Had something happened to the orange haired boy? Maybe, despite his efforts, the brigand commander had wisened up to Richter’s strategy and, not seeing a way to stop it, ordered the retreat to cut their losses. The Ilian could even see the pirates wheeling their siege engines away. Smart. If the pirates lost those catapults, they lost one of their only chances of taking the wall down.
The Illian commander would have actually prefered they not retreat, at least not yet, as he wanted to give Valcrist a chance to take out the siege engines. Now the pirates would just return with them later, this time more equipped and prepared to defend their positions. Fortunately, however, this meant Richter would also get the chance to reorganize the defenses, and hopefully set up a real command structure for the battles to come. These Sacaens needed to know who was commanding them. This chaos wouldn’t necessarily turn out so well again.
Richter turned to look back at the wall. It was battered, beaten, and scorched, but it still stood and that was what mattered. Defenders, both Sacaen and not, began cheering, raising their weapons in triumph as they celebrated their victory. The good feeling was infectious as Richter couldn’t help but smile too. After his catastrophic failure at the arena in Bern, it felt good to win a battle.
“Valcrist! Men!” he shouted, turning his head towards the blonde haired smith who had managed to put some distance between the two of them. “Let’s head back to the wall! It looks like the fighting is over for now!”
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