Loreley
Archer
A sailor lass with a powerful namesake from the Western Isles at the start of her adventures.
Posts: 72
Profession: Sailing Adventurer
Affinity: Fire
OoC Alias: Feldsky
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Post by Loreley on Mar 23, 2016 12:24:09 GMT -6
The battle around them increased in tempo. Howls of fury from the beasts competing with the heat of a fire washing over the area. She looked around and saw another traveling the pass. She watchedm golden eyes wide as he handled strands of pure flame with his bare hands, and sent it careening into the nightmare beasts nearby. Magic!
There was a thud nearby, and Loreley whipped her gaze around again to see the beast that Derick had thrown off of himself flailing where it landed. She took the chance to aim, drawing the bowstring smoothly back to her cheek, and then letting the shot fly. With a yelp, the arrow pitched into the creature. Much farther than she'd expected in fact, as though the flesh that it pierced was softer than it looked. She quickly drew again, and let another arrow fly into it. They weren't the most expertly placed shots, but they did seem to have done damage to the body, and left it with twin shafts pinning it to the ground where it lay.
"I don't know exactly what we're fighting, but in the interest of eventually finding out-" A howling rose all around them as countless hell hounds lifted up their voices in one great call skyward. She looked around wildly as she heard the unnatural calls of the beasts coming from the woods around the top of the overlook.
"Run!" she yelled, voice shrill from the panic of the impending flood of hell hounds coming towards them. She fumbled another shot towards the wolf that Venford and prince had worked on, watching as it pinned a leg to the beasts body, and then ran. She was aiming to get down off of the exposed cliff and into a place more defensible. Someplace where the beasts couldn't come at them ten at a time. She started running, leaping like a mountain goat from stone to earth to get down from the small prominence they'd been standing on. They needed a bottleneck. She reached the surface and looked around, checking on the others, and if there were creatures surrounding her yet.
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Mar 26, 2016 8:50:38 GMT -6
The stench of burning flesh and rotting blood clouded the air as the battle intensified. Derick paced hungrily in a loose perimeter around Loreley as his eyes searched the woods for his next victim. The blonde mage declined Derick's offer for cover, Derick grunted in reply. Out of the corner of his eye, Derick saw the mage form the flames into a whip-like form and nodded in understanding. He can manipulate his range to fit the situation... Handy. As the mage roasted a new batch of wolves, Derick couldn't help but notice that the mage seemed to be relishing the opportunity to kill even moreso than himself. Yet it's...different. What's driving him, I wonder?
A chorus of growls rose from the woods nearby. Derick became dimly aware of a bow twanging behind him as Loreley set to work. Three undead wolves emerged from the woods, they were lined up in formation, with the middle wolf slightly ahead of the two on the sides. Their eyes fixed on Derick and then strayed past him, toward the archer setting upon their brethren... They darted forward in unison, intent on bypassing their immediate adversary for more opportune prey. Derick cursed and adjusted his stance as he gauged their approach. "Oh, no you... DON'T!"
Leather squeaked against wood as Derick's grip slid toward the end of his spear haft. He swung his lance out in a wide arc just as the wolves came into reach. The sword-like tip of Derick's glaive passed through the front half of the wolves, scoring a deep hit on the beasts' face, neck and upper-leg, respectively. The fiends stumbled with the force of the blow. Derick followed the momentum of his weapon, turning in a circle as he took two steps back. He struck again, his spear windmilling to finish the two wolves with a clean pass through their necks. The middle wolf that Derick had nearly beheaded on the first strike ambled toward Derick, its head dangling crookedly on a few unbroken neck ligaments. Following his fervor, Derick finished the beast's beheading with a brutal overhead strike, one that an executioner would be well-acquainted with. Derick smiled delightedly as he inspected the results his handiwork, unaware of the remains that flecked his skin and clothing as a result. Kill another. Derick's smiled broadened at the thought, his eyes shone as he sought his next target.
"--Run!" The shrill scream stopped Derick in his tracks. ... What was that? Clarity returned. Derick heaved in a few breaths as he searched for the source of the disturbance. "Loreley! Where are you going?!" A cacophony of howls sounded in the wake of Derick's question, acting as a reply. That's a lot of wolves... They were outnumbered, not overwhelmingly, but Loreley was probably right to look for better terrain. "I'm going after her!" Derick called over his shoulder to the mage and His Majesty (he hadn't quite heard whatever the rider had said in reply earlier) as he set off in a run.
Soil and rocks blurred beneath Derick as he struggled to keep pace with Loreley's acrobatics. His slightly heavier gear slowed him, and he landed rather ungracefully as he finally crashed to the earth below. Derick rose and dashed forward with lance in hand, eyes scanning the horizon for more adversaries. "Nothing..." He huffed the word out, catching his breath from the sudden dash. He gave Loreley a sidelong glance from his hunched-over position. "That was quite a stunt you pulled... Surprised I didn't break a leg... Hah..."
Derick drew a final deep breath as he recovered, he felt a sense of impatience at the lack of combat, so he occupied himself by taking stock of their situation. The cliffside was at their back now, given that Derick had nearly died scaling it, he could hardly imagine the undead being coordinated enough to perform the same feat. The fact that they had not chosen to scale the cliff earlier bore proof of that. Derick peered through the trunks of the trees, looking for signs of an advancing foe. Descending from their earlier vantage point had ironically improved their range of vision, it was much easier to look through the trunks of trees than it had been to peer through the leaves. In fact...
"Hey! Take a look. There." Derick called out, unsure of whether they others had arrived, and pointed with a gloved hand through the trees. It looked like a large clearing lay a short distance in, and Derick could make out a structure of sorts in the center of the clearing. "Not quite sure what that is...but it may give us that bottle neck you were looking for?" He addressed the last part of that sentence to Loreley, but redirected his last question to the general audience. "Shall we take a look?"
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Mar 26, 2016 12:26:57 GMT -6
The effects of the battle quickly marred the once pristine landscape. Wolf carcasses, shattered or otherwise turned to ash, lay haphazardly around the plateau. The earth where Ravvus had flung his fireball was scorched and covered in darkened bones. The once clean air was heavy with the smell of smoke, burnt flesh, and smoldering wood. The flames Ravvus had used to escape the forest started to consume it. Indeed, in his recklessness, the impatient mage had started a small forest fire. Tongues of heat licked up grass and roots as the flames grew in intensity.
The setting was absolute chaos. The care-free man atop the bird-lion had thrown himself into the fray setting about the enemy with surprising skill. He and his mount singled out one of the hounds, tossing it about, casually, playfully even, before splitting its' head in twain. The blonde woman turned tail and ran, scaling down the cliff-side in an adrenaline induced haste. Nabatan. She had to be. Nobody from the Western Isles worth their salt would be caught dead in such a cowardly display. The lance-bearer fought and killed a trio of hounds with a few swats of his lance, before following the woman's lead. ”Tsk.” Ravvus grunted in frustration.
The group was divided. Half of them wished to flee, the other half wished to fight. Ravvus could see that the hellhounds from below had now scaled the beaten path and were beginning a new approach. He had no idea how many of them lurked within the forest, and without the backup of the lancer or his Nabatan meatshield, Ravvus doubted his chances of defeating all of the dogs. Even with the help of the griffon rider, the odds were not in their favor.
”Some call them Mauthe Doogs, other Hellhounds, and others still refer to them by what they are: Undead Wolves” Ravvus expanded his whip of flame, increasing its' mass until it rivaled the branch of a great oak. Sweat formed at his brow. Even with his experience, maintaining a fire spell of this size for this long took a toll on him. ”A friend of mine took a liking to calling them 'Rot'-weillers.” The undead mutts scowled at him from across the stream. The creatures, having seen so many of their kin felled or, perhaps, intimidated by the griffon's screech, behaved cautiously. The mutts spread themselves apart, taking careful, measured steps. The blonde mage slowly sent the rope forward. ”Sir. You and your bird-lion would do well to make your way towards me.” Ravvus double-tasked, back-stepping towards the edge of the cliff while inching his rope of fire towards the stream. ”Quickly now!” Ravvus commanded as he dropped the spell into the water. With a sharp hiss, the water evaporated, turning into a superheated gas and forming a temporary wall between Ravvus and the Hellhounds.
Ravvus cast his hands to his knees, winded from maintaining the spell for so long. His head hung limply, and the mage took slow, labored breaths. A voice called out. Something about finding a bottleneck. That would do. Ravvus looked up, searching for the bird-lion-rider. ”Come. We should regroup. That steam wall isn't going to last for very long.” The mage put his hand forward, fixing his posture so as not to lose his balance.
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Post by The Madness on Mar 27, 2016 6:46:01 GMT -6
There was no vocal discussion between the armored Arum and the now dead but still walking bear, besides the occasional guttural growl that the bear released deep from it's rotting throat. But mentally, they shared knowledge. It couldn't be called communication, oh no, this was not a friendly one to one conversation. It was a bonding experience that she went trough with every being Seelenschmaus had killed. It was useful for the times when she wanted information of the surroundings where the victim had lived, yet this time... It was something a bit deeper than simple sharing of information and such.
She saw so much. This bear's life flashed trough her eyes, and in a way her life flashed trough the bears eyes, even if it couldn't truly understand everything. But she understood. Such a long and beautiful life. Ostia had been so beautiful once, but then the vermintide washed over it all and brought the beautiful nature and it's inhabitants down upon the beautiful landscape. It was almost sad. If she could shed a tear, she'd perhaps even shed a tear at the sight. When the vision and the bonding experience was finally over, she reached a plated gauntlet over to the other's head, rubbing it and scratching a tiny bit. The undead bear could not feel much, but it growled in appreciation all the same.
She lifted her head after a while of looking down at the bear, looking into the distance. As if there had been... Yelling and howling? She hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings during the bonding, yet. She slowly began to make her way towards the noise, the bear following alongside her.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2016 15:50:40 GMT -6
The term "all hell broke loose" had never fit a situation better, or so Venford thought. And that was coming from a man who nearly wound up marooned on an island because he found out his employers were bloody poachers!
But, just like in that instance, Venford was lucky enough to have a stoic griffon to his aid.
The cute blonde attempted to give Venford some form of answer, but she immediately decided to head for the hills when the hell hounds began to, quite literally, fall from the sky. In reality they simply descended upon the group from the cliffs above. It didn't pose much of a threat to Venford or Prince, the latter was nimble enough to simply glide away from the leaping hounds. That didn't make the situation any less dire, however.
"Wait! If you're gonna run, you may as well let-!" Too late. The blonde wasn't just cute, she was bloody quick! Of course she had to be if she wanted to outrun these hounds. Her ally, the stutterer, showed off more of his skill with that strange pole-arm of his before reluctantly following suit. Honestly, beyond simply following the only female in the group, Venford was inclined to go with them. With half their fighting force gone there wasn't much of a battle left to fight.
Evidently, the mage didn't exactly receive that memo. If he did he sure as hell didn't read it.
Before Venford could argue with the mage, who was the only person capable of giving him a name for the creatures, he did grasp the situation and acted accordingly. He shouted up a warning to Venford, but..."What did he just call Prince?! A bird-lion?! I mean...okay, yeah, I see why, but still!"
"Hey! Prince isn't a bird-lion! He's a griffon, and he's got a name! Pri-" It was at that moment that the mage's plan, or at least his general intent, dawned upon Venford. With a tug of his reins Ven urged Prince to soar closer to the mage's area.
With a mighty show of control and skill, or at least Venford assumed, the blonde mage brought together fire magic and natural water to form a fierce barrier of steam. Prince veered clear of that area long before the steam rose into the air, thankfully, otherwise the force and heat likely would have brought the griffon down.
"Holy hell! Nice one mage guy!" Seriously, why didn't anyone except him bother with a name exchange? Whatever, it just gave Venford a proper excuse to throw around nicknames for the lot of them.
Unfortunately that technique seemed to have taken the fight out of the mage. The breath as well. And while that barrier could probably hold off the fiends for some time it wouldn't last forever. The cute lady and her stuttering comrade could quite a bit ahead of them, and if they ran too far into the treeline it'd be hard to follow them.
Though that distance, and lack of visibility, was nothing for the likes of Prince.
"Okay, great plan to buy us time and all, but listen quick now." Venford brought Prince closer to ground level, hovering a few feet off to the mage's left. "I don't really trust your ability to keep up with my griffon here, and I don't really want to slow down for you either." Three clicks of his heels, and Prince landed on the ground gently. "So either hop on, or Prince is snatching you up in his talons. His eyes are sharp, so finding the others and regrouping will be a sinch."
Evidently the mage agreed with Venford, and took his hand to help him up onto the griffon's back. "Just uh...don't grab his feathers too tight, all right? Hold me for support instead." Why couldn't he be the cute archer? Eh...not the best time to be thinking about that.
After giving the appropriate signal Prince beat his wings and took off. Venford wanted to tell Prince to look for the others, but there was no guarantee the griffon would understand his words. Instead he relied on his own memory to help steer the flying steed in the direction the other two had run off in. When Prince's eyes fixed beneath him Venford looked down and, sure enough, he found them...headed towards some sort of shelter.
"All right, we'll meet 'em down there." Venford stated, steering Prince down before the two. Of course the griffon's descent was as fast as ever, and Ven could only feel sorry for the mage if the velocity had been too much for him. However they did land safely, in front of the shelter and in eye sight of the archer and spearman. "Okay! So, that was fun, but what's the plan now? We're seriously gonna fight these things or are we running?"
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Loreley
Archer
A sailor lass with a powerful namesake from the Western Isles at the start of her adventures.
Posts: 72
Profession: Sailing Adventurer
Affinity: Fire
OoC Alias: Feldsky
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Post by Loreley on Mar 31, 2016 20:37:28 GMT -6
Derick landing nearby after the crazed flight she'd managed reassured her a bit, the others still weren't down here though. She normally wasn't so quick to leave people behind, but they were normally willing to run for their lives when being hunted by a pack of nightmare beasts. The flyer had called himself Venford, she thought. His arrival had been most timely, and now she realized that his beast was what they'd seen and she'd insisted on pursuing before. The mage showing up too had also helped, but now she'd worry for the both of them if they didn't get away.
More howling, and it wasn't hard to persuade herself to find somewhere better. She wasn't going to die on this sojourn because she'd been unwilling to seek shelter or flee when needed. She whipped a glance back to him to make sure he was ok when he said he thought he was lucky to not break a leg. He was winded, but otherwise fine, and that left her enough time to be annoyed with a pointless distraction! She did spot what he pointed out though. It wasn't clear from here, but it was manmade by the looks, and that had to be a better hope than anything else out here.
"Yes. Let's hope that it's enough!" She bolted forward as she made a dash for the clearing where they were headed, and vision opened up as she neared. It was less of a structure, and more of what was left of one. It looked as though the roof had collapsed some months ago, leaving an opening down through the top in the wooden scar of the building. It still had most of its walls though, and it had a vantage point on the top that she could make use of. Getting up would take a little doing, but it looked as though they could make something of a hold out here.
"It's better than what we had, or getting run down!" The islander still felt that fear and adrenaline pumping through her heart from the run, fueling her with the energy it took to keep on going. She knew that wouldn't last forever though.... Only the rider of that strange beast had a good chance at getting away from here. She and the others would have to find a way to escape through hiding, or else just outlast. Well, she still had a full quiver. She could put that to work. SHe raced ahead forward, seeing a path leading up through the broken walls and the wooden remains of the building. It'd take some strength, and some full on climbing to get there, but the area coverage should be prime, if she could keep from stepping through the roofing once she'd made it up there. She was just pulling ahead, when she saw a flash of greyish-brown to her side. She heard a hiss of a snarl, and then she was tumbling over the grass, She landed on her back, and found a slavering monster rushing up on her before she even got her bearings. The arrows still in her hand bought her precious time, as she heaved an arm up to try and catch the jaws of the beast and instead found herself ramming the arrows home through its jaw. The beast snapped at the arrows, even as she struggled with it and managed to heave it back away from her.
She rolled to the side and came up on one knee as the monster crouched, ready to bounce again. Her eyes widened, as she saw the jaws lunging for her again, and readied herself to try and catch another assault from the dead wolf.
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Apr 2, 2016 10:12:42 GMT -6
The blonde archer seemed to take offense to Derick's interruption as she cast an annoyed stare in his direction. For his part, Derick replied quizzically with an arched eyebrow. Loreley's behavior, namely her clipped speech and the way her gaze started to dart toward their surroundings, suggested incoming panic. Is she not enjoying this at all?... In contrast to Loreley, Derick was breathing regularly and surveying their surroundings with a look of keen interest.
A new sound distracted Derick's attention, he spun to face the cliff and stared large cloud of steam rising from their previous battleground. That would be the mage's doing, both he and Prince Venford seemed to be enjoying this skirmish as much as Derick himself. Though, I'd wager our motivations are different... Even now, Derick could feel a hellish thirst for more bloodshed eating away at his earlier contentment.
A winged figure emerged from the steam-filled cliff. Through squinted eyes, Derick could make out two figures on the strange bird's back. It seemed that Prince Venford has conducted a rescue mission of sorts, and taken the mage aboard his mount as well. The pair rushed by overhead, towards the ruins that Derick had indicated to Loreley. "Seems like they've--" He was overriden by Loreley's terse reply to his earlier indication, and was struck dumb as Loreley set off toward the ruins at a near-sprint. "More sprinting?... Okay..." Derick sighed the words to himself, such exertion in the middle of combat was unnecessary unless you were being directly pursued. Another chorus of howls pierced the air. Perhaps sprinting was advisable after all. Derick set off, trying to keep up with Loreley's pace.
The wind rushed by Derick's ears, his thighs burned as his legs churned beneath him, bringing him steadily closer to the ruins. To distract himself, Derick shifted his mind from the pain to tactics as he got a closer look at the structure. The roof was in a sorry state, and the walls didn't look any better. Derick distantly recalled fighting Etrurian soldiers in the confined space of a fortress' armory. The layout will probably give us a way to limit how many we fight as once, I'll have to-- The thought cut off sharply. Up ahead, Loreley lurched and fell out of Derick's line of sight as a shadow rushed into her. "No!" Pain and stamina were forgotten as Derick went into an all-or-nothing sprint through the underbrush.
Loreley lay on the ground amidst a clearing, pinned down by a particularly large wolf-fiend. Derick readied his spear but slowed as he closed in. Attacking now would risk striking Loreley...Fortunately, Loreley provided Derick the opportunity he was looking for as she caught the beast and managed to send it stumbling off of her, Derick doubled his pace to make the best of his chance. The beast hunched down as it prepared for another strike, Derick roared, the beast hesitated for a split second. It was all the time Derick needed, he tucked his shoulder down and barreled into the creature. The force of the blow sent the beast tumbling along the ground before it landed sprawled on its side. Derick stumbled at the change in momentum, but managed to keep his feet under him as he pursued the wolf's tumbling form.
Instinct took hold as Derick reached the beast's side. He gripped his glaive in both hands and drove the point straight towards the ground. The polearm rended the beast's flesh and drove into the ground below, staking the monster to the earth. The wolf screeched in pain, and started to writh in an attempt to free itself of Derick's strike. Derick responded by slamming a boot on the beast's throat and twisting his spear within the wolf's innards. Something within the monster gave way. Derick smiled hungrily as the beast gave its final death throes in a pool of rotting ichor. He withdrew his spear, preparing to strike again... Loreley.
Derick spun to check on his fallen comrade, but she had already righted herself and was running toward the ruins, where Prince Venford's giant bird had just landed. Sweat poured down Derick's brow as he jogged after her, he could only dimly recall what had just happened. And how much of that did she see?...
The thought was nearly enough to make Derick shudder, but he pushed it out of mind as he approached the group in time to hear the end of His Majesty's question. "It will be more practical to fight at this point." The statement was largely unfounded, but the wolves seemed manageable to fight in an individual setting. "These walls and the roof should give us the terrain we need to prevent us from getting overwhelmed...It's just a matter of holding out." Derick almost believed himself as he spoke. The truth of the matter was that right now, with his blood surging, he needed to kill.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Apr 4, 2016 18:45:25 GMT -6
”That was the plan, and the hope. Much as I may admire your steed, I'm afraid I am not so inclined as to place myself within his claws.” Ravvus took the bird-lion griffon rider's arm with one hand and hoisted himself onto the mount with his other. ”This-” He began, settling into a straddling position. ”is much more preferable.” Even as he said this, the mage struggled to sit comfortably. There were few times in the past when he'd found himself atop a mount, and even fewer times when he'd rode comfortable upon them. Ravvus had never been the best rider.
”Maybe if I...” The mage, muttered, shifting his weight, when the rider suggested holding onto him. A slight flush rushed Ravvus' cheeks. ”Erm, you mean... like this?” He inquired, snaking his arms around the twenty-something's leather-bound stomach. Ravvus was more than a little flustered to find himself in such a close embrace with the young man. He was even more flustered to be deriving a tinge of enjoyment from it.
Ravvus shook his head, attempting to evade the unwelcome thoughts. He searched for something to distract himself, surveying the battlefield. The steam wall was coming down, and more than a handful of the dogs hadn't even waited for it to. Some of the undead mutts leapt through the hyper-heated steam, incuring only superficial wounds. There were a handful of racing along the path beneath them, making their way towards the two blonds on the ground. Speaking of which, the duo seemed to have only been so successful in escaping the hounds. The Nabatan woman cowered beneath the stare of one of the rotting abominations, while the spearman set to work butchering the mutt. In one strike, the lancer impaled the hell-hound, pinning it to the ground with both spear and boot. The blonde proceeded to dispatch the creature, but something about the way he did so seemed... excessive. Ironic, truly, considering his methods were the model of efficiency. Two strikes and the beast was dead. Even so, Ravvus couldn't be sure. For all his speculations, he could only make out so much at this distance.
The griffon began an abrupt descent, wrenching the hot-headed mage from his thoughts. ”Ah!” Ravvus gasped, tightening his grip around the rider's waist. He tucked his head into the rider's back, coming closer in an attempt to stay on board. His face entered a deeper shade of red. This was closer than he would have preferred.
Ravvus hopped off the griffon once they hit the Earth. He was glad to be back on the ground, back in the frey of combat. Combat he understood. ”Thank you.” He said, directing his gratitude towards the griffon-rider. ”I'd love to know where you found such a creature, but due to the direness of our situation, I fear I must settle for information of a briefer nature. My name is Ravvus, and yours?” After receiving the rider's name, Ravvus assessed their situation.
”We've no choice but to fight my skilled friend.” The mage directed at the blond lancer, coaxing him into combat. The group needed to take up defenses positions. ”Nabatan women! Come here and scale this structure. Your skills will be of best use up top. Lancer, on me! You and I shall guard this choke-point. Venford! Take to the skies! Your skills will be of best use from above.”
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Post by The Madness on Apr 5, 2016 8:28:02 GMT -6
The forest could be so beautiful this time of the year. Leaves were just regrowing, the mud was shifting slowly along the riverside bed, and the birds were singing short melodies. Madness couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, even if Seelenschmaus was pulsating in her hand, ordering her to be on alert. After all, those sounds she had heard signalled that something was amiss in the forests of Ostia, and with luck, that something would soon serve her instead when she drove Seelenschmaus trough their hearts. Ah, the thought of bending such mortal beings to her will made her black heart flutter. Of course they wouldn't garner as much respect as the bear alongside her would, that'd be foolish.
Slowly, she made her way to the ruins. Or, well, to the back of the ruins. Her red eyes squinted at the structure. She could hear howls and speech. People. Humans, their tongue could scratch against her ears for only a millisecond and she'd still recognize their gutterspeak among all the other noises in the world. Annoying and most of all useless. She pushed trough the bushes and began to make her way to the back of the ruins, hoping to avoid being seen. The bear follow along with her, silent steps of plated boots and paws stamping against the grassy ground. With luck, they'd be distracted until the two made their way inside the back of the ruins. Then... Well, then the real fun would start. Her grip on Seelenschmaus tightened evermore.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2016 19:05:44 GMT -6
The otherwise bold mage had turned rather sheepish once he had climbed Prince's back. However Venford just supposed that flying had that sort of effect on some people. At least the man hadn't thrown up like Ven did. Though again, to be fair, Prince was far from used to carrying human passengers back then. Either way they had successfully regrouped, and the stutterer had more or less succeeded in protecting the cute archer.
Though at this rate Venford was never really going to get the opportunity to make a move. If these were just bandits or some sort of human enemy than maybe things would be different.
The mage thanked Venford and...finally! A name! "Hey, no problem man. Name's Venford, my griffin is Prince. I found him on an island, further off Elibe's coast than the Westerns and Dread Isle, called Vinland." That was the briefest response Venford could give, but thankfully he was skilled in speaking quickly. Or just speaking a lot. Still it was nice to have a name for one of these three, especially since they were all blonde.
Ravvus seemed to want Venford to take to the skies...which made sense. However he already could see a dilemma. "I can take to the skies, but I'm putting an awful lot of trust into our archer." And the mage as well, frankly, but after his display with the steam barrier Venford was a bit more trusting of him. Clicking his heels against Prince's side Venford had the griffin charge forward, passing by the two not-mage blondes before taking to the skies. He made sure to give the archer a wink and smile before calling out to her, while he was still in easy speaking range. "When you start firing just be mindful of Prince and I, all right?"
Last thing he needed was an arrow in the back, or worse: an arrow in Prince's wing.
The Mauthe Doogs or whatever the hell these things were called, they certainly didn't call themselves anything anyway, were rather persistent. Venford supposed that the dead really didn't have anything better to do than be persistent, what with being dead and all, but it still made things tricky. The only advantage was that their general behavior was predictable. It was like being chased by a pack of wolves with little inherent sense for danger. By now a wolf pack would have backed off after their instincts weighed an internal pro and cons to continuing the hunt.
Again, guess the cons had to be pretty damned harsh to convince the dead to give up the ghost. They were already defying death somehow, why not go for more defiance?
Considering the wolves couldn't fly Venford's role was likely going to be sweeping them in rapid divebomb attempts. However he already had a better idea. Steering Prince carefully the duo dove down on an isolated wolf, swinging his sword at the beast's feet. The beast jumped away and snarled before backing up closer to it's kin.
"Don't think of them as wolves!" Venford cried out, pulling Prince up before looking for another isolated target. "Think of them as sheep! We'll be the wolves!" If he herded the wolves together it was easier to deal with their assault. They had already slowed down, respecting the threat potential Venford and his mount carried, but they were also aware he wasn't the easiest prey to go after. The men and woman on the ground were.
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Loreley
Archer
A sailor lass with a powerful namesake from the Western Isles at the start of her adventures.
Posts: 72
Profession: Sailing Adventurer
Affinity: Fire
OoC Alias: Feldsky
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Post by Loreley on Apr 8, 2016 21:27:58 GMT -6
She didn't know if she could stop the beast this time. It was a rancid horror with burning eyes and acid spittle flying from its toothy maw. And it was relentless. She gritted her teeth and braced herself, resolving not to give the monster an oversized chew toy, if she could help it, but the blow never fell. A flash of hide and leather armor crashed into the dead wolf with a roar, and suddenly the nightmare beast was beset upon by a real monster. The beast sprawled to the ground, knocked clear by Derick's force when he hit the creature, but he didn't stop there. He didn't stop at that however. He dove into the fray after the thing, and spitted it to the ground with his pole weapon. The thing barely had time to struggle before the bloodthirsty spearman was crushing his booted foot down on the undead wolf as it snapped at him ferociously.
It was almost pitiful how it had so quickly become helpless before him. Once Derick was finishing it, she didn't give it another thought and started running towards the ruins again. She started pumping her legs, trying to get to that shelter, and the vantage point it offered from the roof. The other pair she'd seen from before beat her there, and she felt a twinge of envy at how easily they sailed through the sky to reach this point. That was quickly put away though, as she started having to breath in bigger gasps of air. Her lungs were starting to struggle with the demands of oxygen placed on them, but she couldn't afford to slow down.
"What does it look like I'm doing!" Loreley snapped back at the mage, as she hustled up to the ruins. She didn't care about her tone or attitude in her current adrenaline powered state. She just wanted to get somewhere safe. Somehow, in her mind, she'd promised herself that if she could just make it to this little chunk of shelter out here in the mountain path, they'd be fine. Deep inside, she knew that that was foolish, but it would still offer a better chance than staying out in the woods and rocky paths would.
"And my name isn't Nabatan Women! It's Lore!" She scrabbled up the side of a wall, and an unsteady set of beams leaning against the wall. The whole things seemed to shift under her feet as did a combination of leaping and pulling herself up onto the fragments of the roof. Even with the unsteadiness of it though, she managed to maintain a precarious balance as she pulled her bow free from where she'd hooked it over her arm while on the run.
"I don't even look Nabatan...." Loreley groused to herself, still huffing from the run she'd just made as she climbed up. She thought she saw a wink and a quick grin from Venford, the rider of the strange winged beast and returned it with a small smile and an uncertain look in her eyes. Right then she was more concerned with picking out the Moth Dogs, or whatever they'd been called before, than the quirks of a cute redheaded bird-lion rider. Actually, it had a beak, so did that make it more of a lion-bird? And,-
"Oh, Gods! That's alot of wolves!" Oddly, though they were still surrounded, she felt much better about fighting now. She steadied herself on her feet, and pulled an arrow from the quiver hanging at her side, looking out at a goodly number of the wolves still out there. It was hard to tell exactly how many there were with how they darted into and out of the trees, even from up above. With the choke point, she thought that they could hold out though.
"Derick! Hurry!" She yelled, voice alarmed but steadily losing the panic that had been trying to ride in her. She saw wolves trying to converge on him, and took aim with her bow. It shook a little between the fear response writhing through her body, and all the running and springing that she'd been doing, but steadied now that she could actually aim. She paused, waiting for just the right moment. She waited until the pause as one of the monsters gathered itself to spring, and then let her shot fly. Right as the monster leaped forward, she saw the arrow make contact. Minimal damage was done to the creature itself, by the arrow, but she must have caught something sturdier than the flesh. The monster was forcibly spun through as 60 lbs of pull hurled the arrow into an impact with the carcass.
"Watch yourself, Sorcerer." she called down to the mage near the choke point. "I can see a cluster heading for you from around the corner to your left." She could see well from up here. Something like the sight she could have when on the waters, but not as good.
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Derick
Soldier
A deserter from Bern, struggles to reign himself in.
Posts: 170
Profession: Amateurish Mercenary
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Derick on Apr 10, 2016 10:35:54 GMT -6
Loreley's call prompted Derick to hurry his pace toward their makeshift fortress. Derick sucked in air at a steady rate, and he moved at a slow jog, allowing himself to regain stamina before the next crisis occurred. A rush of wind overhead announced the arrival of His Majesty. He and the mage, riding atop of the bird, landed a short distance ahead of Derick at the ruins' entrance.
Derick arrived just as Prince Venford inquired about a plan. Surprisingly, the mage, Ravvus as he had introduced himself, responded with one. Derick started at his inclusion, but nodded curtly at Ravvus as he mentioned the need to keep fighting. I was hoping you might say that! Derick halted the sentence before he spoke it, but still sounded enthusiastic with his simpler reply: "Got it!"
Ravvus' mistake on Loreley's heritage and Loreley's heated response forced a chuckle out of Derick. "She's nearer to the Western Isles, but don't worry, I missed my guess too." Derick held back from further addressing Loreley's homeland as he felt that it was Loreley's story to share. Which she would probably do if we weren't in the middle of this hellish skirmish. Derick's focus resharpened, he felt a trace of guilt for distracting the group.
When Ravvus finished speaking, each party took off to fulfill their part of the plan. Loreley scaled up to the ruins' roof, and apparently did not fall through the floor, as she began calling out targets to Ravvus below. The Prince, Venford, took to the skies on his mount. He leveraged his aerial advantage by striking out at isolated beasts, threatening them until the joined up with a larger pack.
"Understood. The name's Derick, by the way." Derick spared the mage a broad grin as he replied. Although they were practically strangers, Derick felt a sense of kinship. Ravvus and he were the gatekeepers, and the ruins were their gate. Derick dimly recalled the fire whip he had seen Ravvus wielding earlier as he addressed the mage. "You take the left groups, I'll take the right. Make sure you watch your range." The last piece of advice was for himself as well. Derick almost winced at the thought of Ravvus' fire whip burning through his spear haft, or the blade of his lance taking off a piece of Ravvus. Nevertheless, with both he and Ravvus having reach over the wolves and the ability to strike multiple targets, holding the entrance should be relatively easy.
Overhead, he heard the giant bird rider make an analogy about being wolves hunting sheep. Derick called back, "No! You're the wolf, but we are shepherds, for our job is to cull the herd!" Derick grinned at his own cleverness at furthering the analogy. Though admittedly that sounded more impressive in my head... Derick shook his head ruefully, but prepared himself for the oncoming hoard. He planted his feet shoulders-width apart and readied his glaive. Broad, sweeping strikes, like the one he had used earlier to defeat the three wolves, would be most effective for dealing with the incoming packs.
Lore's voice called down from above, based on Derick's earlier instructions, that would be Ravvus' group. As Derick prepared to deal with potential stragglers or flanks, something felt off. Did we scout the building?-- The thought was overtaken by gleeful bloodlust as the first wave crashed into Derick and Ravvus.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Apr 11, 2016 19:41:00 GMT -6
Ravvus snarled and bit his lower lip, his mouth gradually contorting into a scowl. ”Cowardly woman.” He muttered under his breath, not quite brazen enough to insult Lore to her face. The hot-tempered mage was on the verge of snapping at the Nabatan when her lance-wielding ally jovially introduced himself. His story about Lore's heritage elicited a chuckle of disbelief from the mage. ”The Western Isles you say? Ha! Good one! No Islander worth their salt would be so easily intimidated by this pack of curs!” Ravvus gestured out at the forest, his pointer finger trying to follow one of the darting wolves. ”Even if they were, they surely would not display it in such a terrified sprint.”
”Do you hear that, Nabatan?!” Ravvus called, purposefully neglecting to call her by name. ”If you intend to claim a part in the Western Isles' heritage, then you'd best start proving it!” The mage's words were spiteful, spoken with the intent of stinging the woman's pride. If she had any self-respect, Lore would prove him wrong and open up a volley upon the encroaching wolves. Or she'd just get pissed off. Either one would be markedly more helpful than a continued flight.
Ravvus clasped an open palm on his new ally's shoulder. ”Derrick, you say? You have a good sense of humor, man.” The mage removed his travel satchel, placing the bag of books and knick knacks on the ground, before undoing the clasp of the belt slung across his chest. Removing that, Ravvus cast off his orange cloak, revealing a long-sleeved shirt of leather armor. Book in hand, the mage stood tall, the brown hide of his armor a sharp contrast to the orange cloth he'd been wearing. He would have an easier time moving about this way. ”And you as well!” He responded plainly. In an open hand, the fiery mage readied an equally fiery spell and, remembering Lore's warning, trained his eyes on the left corner.
On Ravvus' left, a rather determined wolf barreled out of cover and down upon on him. Faster than expected. Faster than its' brethren, that was for sure. Ravvus cast his fireball at the surprisingly agile opponent, hoping to eliminate it before it closed the distance. The wolf, Ravvus could now see some steam burns on its' underbelly, leapt to the left, casually evading the attack. The mage combusted the fireball, once more with the intention of stopping the beast. The explosive force slammed the wolf against the structure, buying Ravvus some time.
The conjurer began muttering the incantations for another spell and the wolf set about regaining its' footing. A grin broke across Ravvus' face. He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins. His arm started to twitch.
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Post by The Madness on Apr 12, 2016 9:21:02 GMT -6
The ruins were small, no more than a building or two together, but it was still something. While the troupe was facing the hounds at the front, Madness and Mother Bear had entered from the back area. They silently pushed trough an old wooden door and into one of the buildings. There was no light besides a small window at the upper right corner of the room, from where they had entered. It seems like this whole building complex had been made as a simple resting point for the winter hunters or something similar to that, but now that they were all gone... The building had been left to rot. Her people had looted this place, she was sure of that.
Her eyes slowly got used to the darkness and the sounds that played out behind the thin wooden wall. The whole building was made of wood, besides the roof. It'd be lit afire easily if one of them happened to have some firemaking supplies. While setting the building up and fleeing to let the humans cook alive was tempting, she didn't have what was required. And besides, maybe she could have some more fun by playing with them directly instead of just leaving them all alone. She'd be a delightful hostess, after all. She sent a quick order to Mother Bear. It walked over to the wooden wall, staring at it for a while as it's rotting brain tried to register the orders. Meanwhile, she looked around for anything she could use to climb up.
Thankfully there happened to be a small ladder. She grabbed onto it and began to climb up carefully. The wood was old and could break under her if she wasn't careful. When she was about halfway trough the bear got to work, slamming itself against the wooden wall for a moment until it suddenly burst trough out from the building and into the open, releasing a loud roar. Madness would grin at the sight if she could. But she was far too busy slowly pushing up a hatch, staring around to check if the roof was clear.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2016 16:54:36 GMT -6
It was pretty hard to to tell what exactly was being said in the exchange between his impromptu allies, what with the sound of bark wolves and the wind whipping past him, but Venford could catch a few things. The stutterer managed to either repeat Venford's analogy or...invert it, and without a single stutter! Venford wanted to congratulate him, but instead he decided to settle for hacking the leg off of a lone wolf that was too slow on it's jump.
"That's it Prince. Just keep at it. Circle, dive, rise and repeat." Venford said to the griffin, as if the majestic beast could actually understand him. It seemed to work either way so Venford didn't plan on stopping anytime soon. He pulled the reins up and Prince ascended just like before, both of them looking for the next stray target to either eliminate from the herd or add to it.
As he was safe in the air Venford shot a quick glance back at his allies. They were holding their own, more or less, so there was no real need to abandon the current plan. Ven smirked to himself, rather proud that this tactic was proving to be effective to some degree, and quickly set his eyes back on the snarling targets beneath him. He did a quick double-take, however, when a loud "CRASH" echoed across the area. What the hell?
It came from the shed. crap, did some of the wolves ambush them from behind? Or were they already in the shed?! Venford had never bothered to scope it out, hell none of them did.
Did he abandon the plan and group with the others, or...
Suddenly the decision was no longer in Venford's hands. The whole time Venford's mind had been racing Prince's eyes had been hard at work. The redhead couldn't make out what exactly had happened from his position, but the griffin sure could. And Prince saw a sight that was almost familiar, yet not quite the same. A large creature of flesh and fur, much larger than the wolves. This one wouldn't cling cowardly to a pack, nor would it be so easy to defeat.
The griffin let out a piercing cry, like that of an eagle and yet ten times as loud, before turning in mid-air to charge right back for the shed.
"Wait, wait, wait! Prince! What the hell!?!" Venford grabbed the reins and tugged, even dug his heels into the griffin's sides to get him to stop. Unfortunately it had become painfully clear that the griffin no longer cared for the former plan, so Venford forced himself to prepare for whatever was to come next.
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