Garrit fingered the charm which hung around his neck as his eyes scanned his grim horizon. He felt as if his mind played tricks on him, he could not make out any detail on anything. Stones looked like gray blobs that merely resembled something like a stone. The dirt had no fine qualities, it was merely like a slab of brown and gray. The world around him was destitute. This was Ostia.
Garrit's nostrils were offended, and their hung in the air a buzzing hum that left him feeling uneasy. His clothes were torn all around his arms from a fight he had been in a few miles behind him with a walking corpse. It had grabbed him, and as he had pulled away it's hands felt like claws, as its nails pierced his skin and drew his blood. Garrit had put the demon down, but not without losing a lot of blood. He had since bound the wound, but his left arm still throbbed in a pain unlike any he had ever felt. It seemed like his heart had been poisoned.
Garrit continued on what he assumed could have once been a road into Ostia. That was where the beast clad in armor was said to lie. That was where he needed to be. The heart of Ostia, to cut out and destroy the heart of the Demon wrapped in armor as black as the night. With the charm between his fingers, Garrit walked forward, his arm in pain, prepared as always to meet death or victory. No inbetween.
Post by The Madness on Jul 24, 2015 17:03:35 GMT -6
Her entrance hall was done. It was nothing impressive, really. Just the door (which was not finished yet, so it was more like an archway) that led onto a circular room with the walls still in mid construction. She had managed to gather herself a table, a chair, and even a nice collection of candles to lit up the single room without a roof. Ostia was always a bit dark, so unnatural lights were the key to not get lost. Not that she needed the light, but it was always a nice decoration she could lean back on and enjoy.
Her worker base had improved a tiny bit thanks to some roving caravans. Six stonemasons and miners, four wood gatherers, and five soldiers with two scouts positioned close by to the base. They had a mental link to her, allowing her to notice if anyone came close towards Caer Gethin. The castle would be lovely and complete by the time the world would know of her and the king, and by then it would all just be too late... Oh, she could almost laugh. She had even gathered some 'suplies' from the caravans. Fine silks, some wine. Basic things humans could go insane over.
No reports from her scouts today either... Ah, what a blessing. Those humans could get so pesky, the sons of man were cursed. Cursed with their arrogance towards everything. Perhaps she was doing the same sin by possibly underestimating them, but after the most recent challenger had ran before they could even tussle, she had begun to feel like the humans as a race were just not up to snuff against her own. Oh well, the King would be here soon to clear out the vermin. She knew that there was another of her kin out there as well, but.
Garrit began to cough violently as he started to see things that somehow were not destroyed. Equipment, that looked like it had been set down, simply to be picked up later. They looked uncared for, as if they were being used for maximum productivity with little craftsmanship in the hands that used them. Garrit brought his sleeve up to cover his mouth, violently hacking to try and rid his throat of a sudden vile itch. When he pulled his sleeve away and spit, his saliva was black. Garrit took the scarf from the blade of his dao and wrapped it around his face, covering his mouth. He squinted his eyes and trudged forward once more. Forward was the only path that led to slaying the demon.
Shambling through the mist came a dark figure. Garrit readied his dao, preparing himself mentally for a final fight with the demon, but it was not the armored monster, but a walking corpse, holding a sword in its hand. The corpse stumbled up to Garrit and swung its sword like an axe being used to chop wood, which Garrit easily dodged. The islander spun his dao, cracking the beast in the head with the back of its long shaft. The beast was pushed back, but was otherwise unaffected. Garrit took a few steps to his side, then swung his lance so that the blade cut deep into the monster's neck. The monster did not make a sound, though it moved under the pressure of Garrits swing. Still, it remained on its feet.
When Garrit tried to remove his weapon, but he couldn't, it was like trying to push the earth. Garrit was still holding the shaft when the monster tried to stab him with its sword. The blonde was forced to let go of the weapon in order to avoid the attack. The monster came at him, at its incredibly slow pace once more, and Garrit circled it. The thing was slow, and Garrit was quickly behind it, the islander ran in and grabbed his weapon once more. Instead of trying to pull the blade out, he pushed it in, using all of the strength in his arms and back. Slowly, the blood of a deadman, dark and thick, began to drip from the wound. Garrit turned along with the beast as it tried to get within range of him. Keeping his feet moving, he managed to keep himself at a safe distance from the beast.
Finally, the blade of his weapon was coated in enough of the dead figure's blood, and Garrit was able to slide his dao out of the monster's neck. Still, the monster advanced, and the now panting Garrit readied himself to fight it again.
Post by The Madness on Jul 27, 2015 9:08:09 GMT -6
She could feel a tinge in her mind. Somewhere... A woodcutter, one of the few that had been given such a job. It was an alert of sorts, that someone was coming. What a foolish man, that. Or woman, whichever, the undead never truly specified her what they had noticed. The last time she had gotten an alert it had been a mountain lion they had disposed of very quickly. But this time the alert did not go away instantly like it did the last time. Something was clearly wrong, and for once she felt like she should go and check on her men.
She stood up from her throne... No, no, not hers. It'd be the King's once he came. She grabbed her spear and set out towards where she had sensed the danger. If she was lucky, her woodcutter would know how to keep itself alive for long enough. She did not feel like losing another man to some mortal. Although losing a woodcutter was nothing too bad, it was not like Caer Gethin would fall and crumble without him. She kept up the mental connection as she kept tracking down the man and her own precious beast.
Meanwhile, the woodcutter let out a gargling noise as it's nether like blood seeped from it's wound. It was thick as tar and as black as the night sky, but it was not slowing down. It let out a few panting like noises as it moved, whispers echoing from it's mouth. They were too silent to make any sense of for now, but soon the figure lunged forwards with it's blade raised like an axe, attempting to cut down on the other's shoulder, possibly even trying to cut trough his whole arm! The blade was probably not sharp enough for such, though. It had been chipped and used for woodcutting for a while now.
Garrit managed to leap from the path of the shambling corpse as it came at him once more. He could not tell if he were speeding up, or the beast was slowing down. The beast turned, but not faster than Garrit, who moved along with it, but instead of driving his lance into the beast, the lancer of the isles raked the crescent blade across the monster's skin. Taking care not to cut so deep as to lodge his weapon within the dead body, Garrit worked his way around the figure, not taking note of his surroundings, not noticing the darkness that slowly crept into the very ground around him. The slim lancer moved to the side of a swipe of the beast's hands, and gave it a cut along the shoulder. Garrit took a few steps back, and looked at the monster, now a husk of cuts, leaking a thin black tar.
The corpse shuffled on, the wound Garrit had given it against the neck widening as its head lolled about like a tomato blowing on a thin vine in the wind. Garrit rushed forward, gritting his teeth, and gave a vicious swing of his guan dao. It dug far deeper than the first cleave into the beast's neck, this time the head shifting enough that Garrit could immediately pull his weapon free. The corpse wrapped Garrit in its arms, and dug its nails into Garrit's back, but before their chests touched, the thin flesh remaining of its neck snapped, and with a torrent of sludgey blood its head fell to the ground.
Garrit shrugged, and the body slipped away from him, sliding to the soil, now watered with the blood of the nether. The blonde turned from the corpse, and began walking toward where he believed had been straight before his fight. He had not been walking long before a faint buzzing began to tear at his ears. He immediately recognized it. His demon was coming for him. The lancer's grip on the shaft of his Dao tightened. Good.
Post by The Madness on Aug 5, 2015 12:59:00 GMT -6
The night was so beautiful. Stars were in the sky, the wind blew gently. Like a garden of the saint herself brought down onto the earth, or so a human would think. The night was surprisingly calm for Ostia's standards, although a great part of it had been caused by her and her men cleaning away most of the violent undead from this area especially. Trees were growing in their own twisted manner, the cataclysm before having affected even the land itself with the grass a slightly lesser shade of green. Humanity during it's many experiments and mistakes had killed this bustling capital of nature, this beautiful and breathtaking place. So she'd kill all of humanity with the others as a revenge.
Her steps were quick across the ground as she felt her connection suddenly severing like a loud snap in her head. So one of the woodcutters was dead. No matter, she'd be netting a new one right after this. Or perhaps even something shiny like a new commander or a builder, the wood choppers were mostly just gathering some extra by now. Maybe she could even get something like a smith to make some better armor for her men. That'be just spiffy. They couldn't die until the head was out of business, but some protection would still be good.
She finally reached the place about five minutes after the 'signal' from her solider was lost. There he was, the slayer. He seemed to be a weak human, but if she could grin she would. Without a word she drew out her spear, nether seeping from the sip. This would be an entertaining dance to dance.
Here it came, the sensation of an armada of fishing hooks stuck in Garrit's brain, being pulled from all different directions, and his brain was being pulled sufficiently. Every muscle in the young man's body twitched, screaming to be moved to rip the ears from his head. Yet he could not move. Once more, Garrit was held like a statue in the gaze of this black colossus. Confronted with death, Garrit became practically a corpse himself. With all the strength of spirit Garrit could muster, his right arm bent, and his hand slowly lifted to his neck, where he snapped the phial from the chord that hung it around his neck. Tears began to form in his eyes at the pain every inch of him felt as he tore the seal from it. Without hesitating, Garrit threw the mixture back.
The glass fell from his hand, and Garrit stomped it with his boot. His chest swelled, the pain subsided, and for a moment, Garrit felt that he would be able to conquer the demon. For a moment, then Garrit fell to his knees, and began to vomit out his insides. Retching on the ground, Garrit's stomach lurched and his throat burned as he threw up three times, his nose and mouth being filled with a vile stench and taste. With the mess leaving his body went what little strength had been left in him. The Islander could barely hold himself above the pool of vomit with both of his arms and knees. He began to lean, closer and closer to the ground. Garrit shut his eyes.
The blonde warrior slammed his right fist into the ground. No. Garrit lifted himself from the ground, then scooped his Guan Dao from the dirt. He took his scarf, and wrapped it around his right arm. "Your end comes, demon." Garrit sidestepped the puddle of his insides, and ran towards the walking Madness. Right before their weapons could have hit the other man, Garrit skipped to the right, and swung his lance so that the blade could have a chance to cut at the beasts shoulder.
This human was entertaining, at the very least. It puked and it did some overdramatic things, it punched the mother earth that had spawned it to the world and it still thought that it could fight her. She stared to the pool of vomit with intrigue. Why would it do that? Was this some sort of ritual of bravery, or was it just scared? She was not good at reading these animals. She only could feel if they were scared, or if they were being engulfed into her veil of madness, the feeling of being part of something so huge that drove them into a naturalistic torrent of rage and pleasure and possibly even happiness.
She watched as it rose, as it spoke some meaningless words that would echo in this world as his last. She calmly watched as the human set up a sprint and she lifted her spear as it lunged towards her, quickly raising it to clash against the blade. She had to force herself forwards a bit, shifting her position enough to slide the blade along the shaft of her spear as she managed to push the man away, although his blade managed to slice against the shoulderpad of her armor during the process, causing a horrible screeching sound that would have made her ears ring. If she had any.
She quickly stepped back and spun her spear into a defensive position. She'd have to call her men here... Slowly. She wanted to see what her upcoming prey could do, like a cat playing with a mouse before consuming it to become it's next dinner. She wanted to see what the man could do, to see if he would be worthy to be a fighter or a woodcutter or a miner or just some useless little corpse.
"Come, son of Elimine. Come and show me what you can do."
The beast was strong. Shockingly strong. For a dead being attempting to pass itself off as life, it was a good imitation of human ability. Garrit's dao blade scraped along the shoulder guard the beast wore, and made a horrid sound that ripped apart Garrit's ears. Garit was pushed back, away from the beast, and widened his stance. He lowered his lance, and narrowed his eyebrows. Readying to strike, the beast spoke over him in its vile voice.
""Come, son of Elimine. Come and show me what you can do."
What Garrit could do? Garrit could destroy this beast, and with it wipe the taint of clear of Elibe. Not that he cared for that. As a boy, the idea of being any sort of hero had been beaten out of him. Literally and figuratively. Garrit said nothing however, he simply sprung into action. Sliding to his left, Garrit twirled his lance in a flourish, meant to be read as a bluff. It was a bluff that he was bluffing. He wanted the beast to believe he was underestimating it.
Then Garrit leaped forward putting his weight on his right foot as he landed on it, then leaped again over to his left. Garrit brought his lance back with both hands. Then swung the blade up in a curl, bringing the blade back down with high speed. The slash was aimed at the beasts chest, which yet again was an attempt at tricking the beast. With only one killing of a dead man under his belt, Garrit was going to base this battle on the limited information he had. This beast needed to lose its head.
Post by The Madness on Oct 19, 2015 13:31:55 GMT -6
She watched with mild interest at the man. While her taunting had been meant to try and drive the beast into a frenzy, it seemed as if this one had some sort of sense to it. How rare, considering most men were far more... Feral, with their wants and needs. Or so she had learned during the court of her king. Perhaps humanity was more complex than she had at first thought? The whole thought of it seemed too unreal, so she soon enough denied those thoughts in favor of focusing on the man's movements. They were surprisingly quick. As if it had a higher intelligence.
She let it move as it wished. It's blade soared down upon her chestplate, causing a ear piercing screech as the blade cut against metal. It did not make a deep mark, but it still made enough of an impact to push her back a bit. If she had any eyebrows she'd raise them. The man seemed... Weak? Or she was strong. Perhaps it was due to her size. Whatever the case, she slowly lifted her spear, pointed it forwards to him... And launched forwards in a quick and brutal lunge. Her attempts at playtime were over, and all that she wanted now was for the little annoyance to keel over and die like a good toy. Perhaps she could serve some fine human drinks to her king from his skull, served by his hand, served on a table made of his bones.