Ghost town(Open)
Jan 29, 2015 9:02:14 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2015 9:02:14 GMT -6
Djoser began to look around the town for the other two bandits. Where ever they were hiding they were doing a good job at it. The old Sage had no idea where they were. Suddenly and without any prior warning, well other than the sound of wood breaking, one of the two bandits erupted out the side of one of the homes. His sneak attack was so successful that he caught the old sage by surprise. With a swing of his axe he slashed through the old wizards dingy armor. The color of blood ran down the old man's chest as he fell to the dried earth.
"#$%^ bandits", spoke Djoser as he went down. It was the first time anything had gotten the jump on him in over thirty years. He mostly blamed the mountain and not his old age. If it was not for that dablasted mountain he lived atop for so many years then he would have been more visual like in the old days. But no he had to live atop a mountain all these years and never had to worry about things getting the jump on him. It was pretty easy to spot anything from atop a mountain.
The bandit walked over the old man ready to finish the job, but as he walked forward Djoser heard a whispering in his ear. The entire time he was in the town he had been searching for the source of water this place use to have. If your going to build a town in a desert you need a ready supply of water. Djoser figured it would be a well, but he never saw any in town. However he now understood why. The villagers had hidden it. Probably to prevent thieves and water seekers, but at the moment Djoser was close enough.
"Wiggaly woo", shouted Djoser. His words caused the bandit to raise a eyebrow. He had no idea what the old man was saying, but he knew it was not magic. Or he thought it was not magic. Suddenly a torrent of water rushed out from underneath a house. The old man quickly turned it into a ice spike and stabbed the man in the heart. "Looks like you just became Cold Hearted", laugh Djoser as the man fell to the ground dead. The old bugger had won the battle, but not the way. Djoser was bleeding, which was bad. He was already old, but now he was bleeding from a wound given to him by a bandit. Who knows where that axe had been.
"Ice for brains heathen snow licker", spoke Djoser as he ripped off his padded armor and began to apply pressure to his wound. At the moment Djoser had no idea where the other bandit was, but in truth he did not care. If he was smarty he would avoid the old man.
"#$%^ bandits", spoke Djoser as he went down. It was the first time anything had gotten the jump on him in over thirty years. He mostly blamed the mountain and not his old age. If it was not for that dablasted mountain he lived atop for so many years then he would have been more visual like in the old days. But no he had to live atop a mountain all these years and never had to worry about things getting the jump on him. It was pretty easy to spot anything from atop a mountain.
The bandit walked over the old man ready to finish the job, but as he walked forward Djoser heard a whispering in his ear. The entire time he was in the town he had been searching for the source of water this place use to have. If your going to build a town in a desert you need a ready supply of water. Djoser figured it would be a well, but he never saw any in town. However he now understood why. The villagers had hidden it. Probably to prevent thieves and water seekers, but at the moment Djoser was close enough.
"Wiggaly woo", shouted Djoser. His words caused the bandit to raise a eyebrow. He had no idea what the old man was saying, but he knew it was not magic. Or he thought it was not magic. Suddenly a torrent of water rushed out from underneath a house. The old man quickly turned it into a ice spike and stabbed the man in the heart. "Looks like you just became Cold Hearted", laugh Djoser as the man fell to the ground dead. The old bugger had won the battle, but not the way. Djoser was bleeding, which was bad. He was already old, but now he was bleeding from a wound given to him by a bandit. Who knows where that axe had been.
"Ice for brains heathen snow licker", spoke Djoser as he ripped off his padded armor and began to apply pressure to his wound. At the moment Djoser had no idea where the other bandit was, but in truth he did not care. If he was smarty he would avoid the old man.