Curse

Ristaron · Jan 25, 2006, 10:32 PM // 22:32

Intro: I think I scared off participants from the last RP I started with my very descriptive method of roleplaying fights. Hopefully this time people will be able to find it easier to get their characters into the story. Please, let's keep the number of participants at the maximum of 6. If this gets too confusing people will start losing interest.

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The lush forest was thick with tall oaks and strong elms, a perfect cover for an advancing army. The sun was barely able to penetrate the abundant foliage high overhead, casting a dark green shade on the rocky moss-covered ground. The gold beads of the intricate necklaces around the necks of the grawl captains gleamed as they stood around an aged shaman. The undisputable leaders of the tribal creatures, shamans commanded respect even among the Ascalon soldiers that fought tooth and nail to keep the infestation limited to the southern forests. This particular shaman had built his army slowly but surely over the past decade, and theirs was the most feared in the constant tribal war between the savage race.
Though their guttural speech was alien and incomprehensible to the ranger, Ristaron crouched low near the top of the tall rock used by the grawl Shaman as a backrest and listened to the leader's perplexing words. The language barrier meant nothing here, though, for Ristaron knew what was happening. He was aware of the advancing army of grawls to the place he had come to call home after years of solitude in the wilderness, the place he loved too much to lose.
Midnight eyes scanned along the top of the giant rock that served as a second wall for the private meeting between the shaman and his captains. Among the green moss and brown trees he could barely distinguish, and only because he knew where to look, the shape of his giant gray wolf companion.

Watching for a signal from her master to attack, Morgan kept a green eye on the grawl gathering ten feet below. The enourmous five hundred pound animal kept low, and in the darkest shadows, ready to leap into the fray should her ranger companion decide on that choice of action. She had been though countless battles with him since he took her in as a pup, rejected and cast from her mother's den. His gentle hand and undying loyalty had led her growth, and together they had forged a friendship deeper than family, deeper than love. Either would give their lives to save the other.

Down below, the meeting broke, and the captains left quickly. Two grawls guarding the entrance to the private corner of the giant encampment looked in for orders, and began at a fast pace after their leader as the shaman emerged brusquely.
Slightly disturbed with the speed the initiative was moving at, Ristaron glanced over to Morgan and tilted his head gently to the right. A moment later they met on a sidepath that went along the camp's borders.
The ranger lowered to Morgan's level (not much of a difference from the level he stands at) and began scratching the wolf behind the ears and along the side of her jaw. Morgan's jade green eyes turned to her master as her tongue lolled out in contentment. Ristaron marvelled at her eyes, which seemed to hide a deeper intelligence than many gave her credit for.
"We must go", he whispered to her, "this army won't stay put for long."
Leaving the path, the pair went along a less-used trail that may as well have been a road to them, having lived in the wilderness for so long. This path took them up along a high, moss-covered, rocky ridge heavily concealed yet moderately clear.
"I counted at least three hundred", Ristaron said as they went, a low growl from Morgan gave as much confirmation as could be expected. As intelligent as the wolf was, counting was something that was still beyond her.

They began to pick up the pace until they were almost at a run. Ristaron's hood fell down, and his long white hair flew freely behind his head.
Then, Morgan stopped. Ristaron quickly did the same and looked back to see her fly from a crouching position into a headlong charge that ended in her bounding into the thick vegetation along the right side of the path. The sounds of growling and yelping spurred the ranger, and he took a running leap through the green flora. Emerging on the other side with minimal hinderance, Ristaron drew his trusted rapiers from their places at his hips as he landed beside a grawl, who like his three companions was preoccupied staring in disbelief at their fifth party member who lay broken at the base of a nearby tree. Morgan was crouching, her bloodstained teeth bared.

Taking advantage of his surprise appearance, Ristaron quickly elbowed the unexpecting grawl in the face before he could react to the ranger's arrival. Stumbling back, the savage gripped his halberd with both hands and went to set his feet for fighting back. But Ristaron was too quick, already on the creature. A two-weapon rend put deep scratches in the wood of the halberd, knocking it aside. The agile ranger followed up with doing a complete rotation to keep his momentum and parting his arms. The first rapier cut a deep diagonal line in the grawl's unarmoured body. The second an equally deep gash along the creature's neck.
Turning to the rest of the battle, he watched as Morgan leapt on her second target and tore at the poor creature's throat. The last grawl obviously felt he stood a better chance against the ranger, and he was quickly approaching. A large, bulky falchion in his left hand.
A left-handed fighter, Ristaron smiled. He stepped back a moment later as a powerful lateral swing sliced through the air. He leant aside to avoid a second, knowing it would be easier to let him miss than try to block such strong attacks. The grawl went for a running charge, and Ristaron turned so his left shoulder was between the rest of him and the grawl. At the last minute, the ranger's left-hand scimitar made a circular motion and swooped the bulky falchion out from in front of the charging grawl, who ran into Ristaron's right-hand scimitar which the ranger held behind his back, point facing the savage.
But Ristaron underestimated the grawl's determination, and stumbled back slightly dazed a moment later, the savage having swung his head forward into the ranger's face. The grawl looked down at the blade protruding from his stomach, but before he could reach for it a gray blur took him to the ground, and a powerful maw ended his misery.

Retrieving his weapon, Ristaron cleaned his blades and turned to his faithful friend.
"Let's go before another scouting party finds us. These bodies will take too long to hide, we have to get to the town quickly."

Not bothering to loot the bodies, the pair quickly left the scene at a fast trot. Straight towards the edge of the forest, and for the town of Cayven.

Brother Doug · Jan 30, 2006, 04:39 AM // 04:39

[This sounds like fun. I think I'll do some experimenting with a Ritualist, if that's allowed. Otherwise, I'll be a Monk.]

Relius Espirin (Ritualist)
Age: 42
Sex: Male
Eye Color: Unknown
Hair Color: Unknown
Description:
Relius Espirin was born in Serenity Temple long before the Searing scarred the land of Ascalon forever. His parents died fighting the Charr while he was still a boy. Raised by the temple’s elder monks, they quickly learned that Relius was an unusual child. Unlike the other children, he seemed…different. There was an aura about him, but not the holy aura of Dwayna the other monks had. Still, his restoring powers were equal to the other monks his age, so the elders thought they had nothing to worry about.

As Relius grew, he became even more mysterious. Staying up in his room for hours at a time, studying from books in the old libraries, chanting deep ethereal chants, and practicing who knows what kind of magic. The elders began to worry when they heard otherworldly wails coming from inside his room. Although the elders respected the other monks’ privacy, it was urgent to see what Relius was up to. When the elders suddenly opened the door to his room, they gasped at what they saw.

The room was piled with books caked with dust. Occult candles lit the area, casting an eerie navy shadow on the walls. In the center of the room sat a very alarmed Relius, chanting the words to a spell that would bind his very first spirit. As the final words were spoken, a ghostly form emerged by his side. In an instant, chains latched to the spirit’s arms and torso. It was forced to do his bidding. The elders were shocked and terrified by what Relius was doing. They demanded that he explain himself immediately, for surely this magic was forbidden.

Relius turned around, and the elders gasped. He wore a thick sash of maroon and black cloth around his eyes. His body was covered in leather and fur, with silver beads and other jewelry around his legs, arms, and neck. The elders stepped back, but Relius simply stretched out a hand, saying “Do not fear, elders. I have found my calling, but it is not here with the monks. After much study, I have become…a binder of sorts.”
“But…you cannot see! How can you expect to get around in the world?” the elders asked him.

“One does not need eyes to See what I can,” Relius spoke in a calm, soothing voice, “for when one can See into the spirit world, he Sees all and nothing. Something, and everything. Living and dead. Mortal…and immortal.
My path lies somewhere else. I thank you for your many years of kindness. Yet, I must leave this land. I will return, though it may not be for some time. My path takes me across the seas…to a place called Cantha.”

[Unless this interferes with some kind of hidden plot, Relius would have returned to Ascalon a year or so ago, after completing his mission in Cantha, whatever it may be. (Factions Campaign)

I'm gonna wait for the OK before I type anything else.]

Ristaron · Jan 30, 2006, 06:19 AM // 06:19

Go right ahead, bro.

Brother Doug · Jan 30, 2006, 11:28 PM // 23:28

(I'll wait for some more stuff to happen before I introduce Relius. I want to know a bit more of what's going on before I add him in.)

Mentalmdc · Jan 31, 2006, 12:17 AM // 00:17

I might have a go too.

Rhiannon The Holy (Monk)
Age: 17
Sex: Female
Eye Color: green
Hair Color: blonde
Description:

Meanwhile a serene sanctuary lay just off of the coast of Cantha. It was a quiet place but was the home of the Teng-hui monks. Rhiannon the Holy a young, intrigued girl had devoted her life to the Teng-hui. Her fondest memory of her time there was a brief visit from the Zai-shen. They had offered a brief class in martial arts training and Rhiannon had excelled in her class. Something was certainly special about Rhiannon. Her priestly garments flowed down her sleek hips as her blonde buns swayed in the wind. Looking out to the coast she noticed a small diplomatic fleet of ships approaching bearing the Ascalonian banner. Rhiannon has risen quite high through the ranks of the monks, a rare achievment for one so young.

However she knew she could not stay forever on the simple secluded Island. She longed for something more. All she knew of her parents were that they were brave warriors who fled the Guild Wars of Ascalon, Kryta and Orr. Unfortunately upon arriving in Cantha they were forced to put Rhiannon into hiding. At the time the faction wars of Cantha had gotten unusually violent, resulting in the swift deaths of strangers. Rhiannon seized her chance and waded into the waters and swam for the nearest boat.

(Sorry its a little rubbish but its my first time, is it ok?)

-THE M-

Ristaron · Jan 31, 2006, 01:07 AM // 01:07

I don't mean to seem rude, but can we skip the drawn-out introductions after this and get to writing? I'll sign in again when I get back tonight, if nothing is posted I'll write more.

Selerious · Jan 31, 2006, 08:06 AM // 08:06

Ill get straight into it as it seems you dont want 500 word backstories, but if you want i can provide.

The first Selerious knew of someone, or something else in the area was a quiet growl from Ebon, perched high in the tree which Selerious was leaned against. It was only a small growl but still it brought him from his nap, the years of Comradeship between Selerious and the Stalker honing each others senses to communicate like actually talking to one another. Rising fluently from the ground Selerious moved to the left slightly as Ebon pounced out of the tree aiming for where he had been moments before, they had been together for almost five years but Ebon still thought he was the boss; bloody cat had to play at a time like this.

It took around second for Selerious to stow his longbow in a secure but easily reachable place in the small of his back under his quiver before sliding a long hunting knife out of his left boot scarab, he had another in his right but one was good enough for now, with an unknown enemy, he had to see if it was friend or foe, for the only things that Ebon would alert Selerious to were either enemies or the smell of blood. Ready Selerious kneeled down beside the stalker and whispered a quiet "Find" to the cat before bounding after it as it took off North-East towards Cayven, neither human nor cat making much more than small scrapes as they raced along through the undergrowth where both were at home, even though Selerious wasn't a regular to the area with his cottage further North, he still knew enough to go fast with sure footing.

It didn't take long for the pair to catch up to the disturbance, the other going at a slower but still brisk pace. Slowing down to about the same speed, Selerious glanced over to Ebon, relying on his nose now they were closer downwind of them. "Many or few?" Ebon gave a small grunt, so a small band or a singular, "Human?" Another small grunt escaped the Stalkers belly. Glancing over a last time Selerious questioned, "Another with them?" There was a Large growl this time so it was a small group or a single human with another animal, Relaxing Selerious slowed and put his boot knife back before speeding up, if the group was human then Ebon had first smelled a tinge of blood and Selerious was going to see if anyone was hurt as they started to shadow the others, gaining but still being moderately quiet.

Mentalmdc · Jan 31, 2006, 04:38 PM // 16:38

Rhiannon was hauled aboard the boat by firm arm. A simple yet handsome soldier gazed down upon her soaking ruined robes. Crates and ropes lay scattered around the deck but as Rhiannon looked around she noticed the lack of many crew members. The man was intrigued to why such a person had appeared on the boat. He had a weary forlorn look in his eyes and was dressed in the finest brand of Ascalonian armour. Without asking questions Rhiannon was taken to a room to dry off, once ready the man returned.

"Erm, what exactly were you doing?," the soldier enquired.
"I'm a member of the Teng-Hui monks, we live in the sanctuary on a nearby Island. I was hoping to hitch a ride," Rhiannon replied.
"Well thats certainly a different way of asking. Normally I'd be quite willing however as you can see these are unusual circumstances. I'm on a very important mission to Cantha. Ascalon has been facing very troubled times as of late and I am enroute to Cantha to find help."
"Maybe i'm the help your looking for."

Looking and the tiny figure of the girl the soldier could not help but laugh. For a mere child she had quite a presence about her.

"Very well then. Unfortuantely the place I am going in Cantha may not be safe for you and you could put my mission into peril. However one of my men will be more than happy to sail you to Ascalon where you may be of more use. The Grawls of the north have been getting rather restless as of late. Maybe your new monking techniques may be of use. I hope I see you again Rhiannon, but for now we must part our ways."

With that Rhiannon changed ship and was taken into the hands of the crew of the A.S. Char Slayer. It was a swift journey back to Ascalon, albeit a rather treachourous one with the raging seas swarming with Snarleck beasts and menacing Teratoota Snakes. However the journey was a safe one and within a week Rhiannon found herself looking upon the scarred, tortured barren world of Ascalon. She walked into the nearest town anxious to find out what was going on. It was at that moment that two people hurried into the town.

Que: Ristaron and Morgan

(Hopes that is alright to bring my character into the story)

-THE M-

Symeon · Jan 31, 2006, 05:36 PM // 17:36

Right, here goes, with the same character I was trying to put into that other one you (Ristaron) did and the internet messed up...sorry I didn't post in that again, I really didn't manage to find the time.

Mylena Swiftwind
Ranger/Elementalist - kindle arrows + conjure flame bow spike
Age: 22
Shortening of bio: Originally from Ascalon, got caught up in events that took her to the Maguuma Jungle where she learnt the ways of her professions properly, and decided to return to Ascalon to help defend against various enemies.

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Mylena ran through the trees and bushes, trying to get as far away from the path as possible. If there was any enemy army, they would be following the path. She knew there was a village up here, and perhaps she would find at least some other adventurers who had been notified of the grawl movements. If not, she would seek some food and a brief sleep before warning the inhabitants and moving further away to seek others.
She soon arrived at a bent wooden sign pointing down a narrow path to 'Cayven'. This was the village. There were no trees and small bushes to run amongst...either side of the path there were nettles and thick bushes. She would have to take her chances.
At one point she thought she heard movements in the bushes, and was close to stringing her bow when she noticed that the path took a turn beside a fence not very far ahead. She continued running and found herself coming into the village. She sat down and took a swig of water from her pouch, and then looked about her for the village inn.

Ristaron · Jan 31, 2006, 06:09 PM // 18:09

(Hm... by the description I gave of the lush trees and mossy ground, I thought I made it clear this was before the searing... With no offense intended, I'm going to continue with it being before the searing, with no scortched landscapes and perpetual gray skies...
And I don't object to 500 word introductions, just so long as people post story after it...

)

Exploding from the thick forest, Ristaron scanned the great field before him. It took him a moment to spot Morgan, loping along -- already halfway to the town of Cayven resting on the mountain slope on the other side of the meadow. A moment later, Ristaron's cured-leather well-fit boots were soundless as he ran along the open field.
Up ahead Morgan had stopped and was sniffing at the ground, she waited until Ristaron caught up and looked up at him with the familliar shining green eyes. A gloved hand scratched behind her ears, then the two were off again.
Ristaron didn't bother pondering how he would convince the town council to take up arms, even among the reclusive ranger population he was less than welcome. All for the colour of his skin.

(delayed introduction: Right, now that the story is about to come together with everyone, here's my character's introduction:

Ristaron (Ranger)
Age: Over one hundred
Sex: Male
Eye Colour: midnight blue
Hair Colour: silvery-white
Skin Colour: ebony
Description:

Ristaron is not human, in short. He is one of a highly reclusive race surrounded by much superstition. This race is known simply as the mountainfolk. Those who believe the mountainfolk exist believe they are a savage war-bound race. Those who don't believe in the mountainfolk tell horror-stories about them around campfires in the dead of night.
This race has a rule that governs their society: none of their race shall kill another. It was such a rule that it became engrained in the very essense of their beings. But Ristaron's father was human, and therefore Ristaron was not completely of the mountainfolk race.
When he was about thirty, mountain grawl came to attack his village. They were led by a Shaman who had exceptional knowledge of the town's defenses, knowledge that could only have been provided by an insider.
Ristaron knew who the insider was, and in the battle he sook out the traitor and slew him.
Though Ristaron had killed an enemy, he had also killed one of his own kin, and the mountainfolk exiled him.

The rest of his history is too long to go into, the highlights are:
-He knew the Druids before they dissappeared
-He made friends in Kryta and for a time served as a combat instructor in the Lionguard barracks.
-He is no friend of Adelbern, but a good friend of Barradin, who he defended when the Duke was but a boy and his carriage was under attack by Grawls.
-He rescued his friend (not his pet) Morgan when she was a starving cub in the South Shiverpeaks. He raised her after that into the five hundred pound (ENOURMOUS) wolf she is now.

Yadda yadda)

Mentalmdc · Jan 31, 2006, 06:25 PM // 18:25

(Sorry, about the pre-searing muck-up lol)

Rhiannon was still a stranger in this town and was suprised by the strange folk who lived in the town. The streets were bustling with crowds browsing over the various stalls. It wasn't long before she bumped into a tall looking Ranger just outside the village Inn.

"oh, well. Hello there young, um, monk. My name is Mylena."
"I am sorry, i'm Rhiannon. I feel a little lost I'm very new to these parts. I'm from across the Tyrian sea. I'm trying to find a place for the night. Apparently there are some Grawl disturbances. I was hoping to help out."
Mylena feeling sorry for the lost girl offered to take her inside the Inn and show how things in Ascalon worked. However in the back of her mind she knew something was drastically wrong outside and would have to find a council member urgently. Something triggered a deep feeling within her about Rhiannon. Maybe it was not a coincidence they had met. Before much could be done however, Mylena needed to find more experienced party members.

Cayven was too deep in its daily affairs to even notice what was about to happen. So many arrows were fired, today in the poems about the day it is stated that the sun was blocked out. Grawl appeared from every corner, mercilessly tearing down the road. Their clubs knocked over stalls as unfortunate women and children ran down the street. The few Ascalonian guards struggled to put up a fight. A mighty Grawl champion known as Teruk de Leim towered above the stools. He shattered the stalls with his strength. A miracle was needed to save the town.

Selerious · Feb 01, 2006, 02:04 AM // 02:04

Name : Selerious Taren (Ranger)
Sex: Male
Eye Colour: Hazelish yellow
Hair: Long, Dark red, short Beard (look at character pic)

Ill reveal parts of his history through the RP.

It wasn't long after Ristaron had gone through into the town when Selerious and Ebon bounded out of the trees into the field where the town of Cayven lay, sunlight blinding both of them while their eyes adjusted. The town looked peceful enough from where they were but getting closer there were signs of a scuffle. The noise of destruction was filtering out from the other side of the town, closer to the woods. Taking out his longbow and notching an arrow as he ran Selerious spotted the first of the enemy, a grawl with a Hammer rushing around the side of the village. Skidding to a halt whist drawing back the arrow, selerious tracked the Grawl for a second before letting loose, watching as the arrow flew true slamming into the base of the Grawls neck and dropping it in a crash. Seeing no other Grawl, Selerious ran into the village replacing his bow and taking out both daggers as he went, this was going to be some close quarter fighting.

Ristaron · Feb 01, 2006, 06:04 AM // 06:04

Ristaron had been well into the crowded streets when Morgan leapt down from the rooftops above. A low growl told the ranger he was running out of time, fast.
Abandoning secrecy, Ristaron threw away all chances of getting to the town council without being identified. He picked up his pace and climbed a stack of lashed wooden crates.
"People of Cayven!" he called out, but his small voice only attracted a few listeners. His audience grew greatly when Morgan, who had come to be beside him, unleashed a cacaphonous bark from her mighty lungs.
"People of Cayven!" he called out again, trying to keep the attention of the busy merchants and consumers. "There is little time, but you must believe me when I say this: there is an army of Grawl in the forests just North of here. They pose a serious threat to the city. Take up arms-"
He was cut off by a soaring tomato, which he evaded easily but lost his credit to the flying fruit. Morgan barked again, but not enough attention was regained by it.
Desperate, Ristaron continued to yell until his voice crackled and his breath was short. It was futile, he came to realize. Trembling, he knew the only way he could get the audience he needed. A gloved hand slowly went up to his hood.
The ever surprisingly wise Morgan brushed against him, knowing what he was about to do. Thanking her silently for the comfort, he flung back his hood and let his white hair fly in the breeze, contrasting his ebony skin.
Morgan barked loudly again, and some people looked up in irritation for the constant interruption of their daily lives.
Their eyes widened and many people screamed to see a mountainfolk standing in their town's streets.
"People of Cayven", Ristaron began again, "the Grawl are on your doorstep!"

But his efforts were ultimately useless, for the flaming arrows began flying into the city at that very moment.
"Take cover!" Ristaron yelled out, seeing the barrage before anyone else below. Barely seconds had passed since he called out that the distance-delayed sound of hundreds of bowstrings letting loose their shafts rang through the city, succeeded by the whistling of arrows as they sliced through the air.
Ristaron leapt from his perch and landed lightly, then rolled to be underneath a nearby awning. Better some protection than none at all.
A second barrage assaulted the town, and still some of the people on the crowded street were out of doors, there simply being no room to defend everyone.

A third barrage, the streets were now filled with blazing merchants running around like maniacs. The ranger grabbed a blacksmith's bucket of water used to cool superheated blades, and doused the nearest flaming fanatic.
The man fell over, and Ristaron bent down, pushing him along in a roll to extinguish the remaining flames. The ranger avoided looking at the charred, blistered face.

Instead, Ristaron looked up to see a party of Grawls come around the corner, into the street.
Any onlooker would later describe that they hadn't even seen Ristaron's rapiers leave their sheathes, or his enormous wolf companion cross the distance between where she had been and that of the approaching Grawls. What they would see was five hundred pounds of gray lupine barrel into the savages, breaking their ranks. Teeth and claws slashed and wounded, keeping the six Grawl distracted long enough for the dour-handed ranger to close the distance and begin slicing expertly through the tribal warriors.
In ten seconds, the Grawl party was destroyed.
"Everyone take up arms!" the ranger called to all who would hear. He pointed to the smithy he had borrowed the bucket of water from. It was the perfect armoury for untrained soldiers.
"More will be coming!" he pressed when all he got was dazed looks. The people snapped out of the trance and decided to question the ranger later.

Mentalmdc · Feb 01, 2006, 06:04 PM // 18:04

Rhiannon ran out into the street as the flames erupted from the Inn. She grabbed her staff and let a beam of blinding light shoot out of it. The wind drastically picked up. A grawl lunged at the young girl, she was nearly knocked flying as Rhiannon held up her staff and locked it with the battered old sword of the grawl. Again and again they clashed in battle, but Rhiannon being so small managed to out step the clumsy grawl and get it from behind.

As the hundreds of injured fled down the street Rhiannon did her best to heal those she could. Many were saved that day because of her magic, however it was nowhere near enough. Rhiannon climbing over bodies was healing a young child as 6 grawl charged down the street. With a fierce intent in their eye it looked as if she was done for, but before they could even move Ristaron had slaughtered them where they stood.

For now the fighting ended, but it was all to obvious this had just been a scouting party. As Rhiannon took in the burning surroundings she wept for the sudden severity of the violence. Having come for adventure, this was far from what she had anticipated. Rhiannon continued to heal the injured for hours into the dark of the night. She never rested and so the people of that town still remember her kind actions. However no matter how much she healed, in the coming of dawn, it would be useless.

Finnaly Ristaron approached Rhiannon and told her to rest, for he smelt on the wind, the coming of more enemies. They would need all the energy they could muster. There had to be something larger at work than just an invading Grawl army. Small grawl attacks were common but something on this scale had never been seen before. As they gazed into each others eyes, a sense of deep understanding was felt, this journey would take them far across to unknown parts of Tyria. But for now, the defence of the town was at hand.

Brother Doug · Feb 02, 2006, 02:17 AM // 02:17

A few minutes earlier...

After saying a friendly hello to the guards, Relius entered the city. He had never seen Cayven before, and was marveled by its beauty. The streets were crowded with people buying and selling their wares. A few yards ahead, Relius could hear the merry laughter of a group of friends drinking in a nearby tavern. The people here were obviously very content with their lives. A breeze picked up scattering leaves around. He bent down, taking a leaf. Through the cloth, he Saw what most people wouldn’t: a few drops of dried blood on the leaf. He gave a small sigh.
‘The wind is calm, yet there is a sense of anxiousness lingering…something isn’t quite right,’ he thought.

“Hey, pal…you alright?” A young man had walked up to Relius while he was scrutinizing the leaf. As Relius turned to face him, the man quickly looked away. He paced back and forth, averting his gaze from Relius’ wrappings, and suddenly ran off towards a loud voice. The voice seemed to be shouting something about Grawl. Relius was about to wander closer to the voice when the flaming arrows set the city ablaze. The city’s people were drawn into chaos, running into any safe dwellings nearby.

“Looks like the calm winds are over,” Relius said. Picking up his ochre staff, he spun it around. He began chanting in a mysterious tongue, preparing a ritual to summon a spirit that could fend off the unknown invaders. Unlike the other spirits that Relius had to bind, this one (for reasons unknown) had grown a strange liking to the ritualist, and needed no chains. The spirit appeared in a flash of navy light, a wry grin on its almost human face, save for the lack of a left eye.

“Greetings, o mighty binder. What be the task?” it said in a misty voice.

“I am not sure, spirit. We shall know-” the heavy clank of armor and the rattle of beads interrupted Relius’ thoughts. “Here they come. Prepare yourself!” The spirit’s hands glowed a light teal, sparks of energy emitting from them.
Two hammer-wielding Grawl leapt out from behind a nearby inn. The spirit let loose the energy stored inside of it, burning a three-inch hole through the first’s chest. As the Grawl gasped its dying breath, the other gave a guttural roar and charged at Relius. He quickly dodged the blow, hitting the beast square in the stomach, and then bringing the rod straight down on its skull, knocking it unconscious. A few short blasts of eerie green light from his staff, and it was dead.

“Come, spirit,” Relius shouted. “This battle is not over yet.”

Selerious · Feb 02, 2006, 06:41 AM // 06:41

Selerious rested his head against the door he was lounged against, recounting the battle that had been fought earlier that day.

Selerious had rushed through the gate into the town, sidestepping the corpse that he had stuck an arrow through the neck of, the beast was still convulsing. Ebon was ahead by a few meters, eyes intent to find some prey. Turing down a street that led to the main square, the screams of those caught by arrows during the first assault rising up around those still standing and the grawl trying to destroy them. A group of four turned the corner, racing straight for Selerious, he went straight for them.

Ebon hit the group first launching itself at the lead member, teeth clamping around the left leg of the beast, hamstringing it whist Ebon’s body mass carried its prey and ebon into another of the beasts, knocking it down. Selerious followed up by blindsiding the grawl that were now concentrating on the Stalker, slicing his right hunting knife over the back of its neck before spinning and bringing both into the body, left knife into the heart, right into the neck. Kicking the grawl off the lodged knives Selerious turned to face the grawl left which consisted of a crawl captain, hammer in hand; Ebon had finished the first and was mauling the second. The captain glared at Selerious, it knew it couldn’t escape. With a great roar it charged, raising its hammer high above its head for a crushing blow. The blow just missed as Selerious rolled to the right, jumping to his feet he was again put off balance as he avoided a swing at his head. Ebon took the chance to strike having finished his feed on the grawl, jumping on its back, digging in with its claws distracting it enough to let Selerious get both knives and stab them into both sides of the neck before twisting the knives and decapitating it.

There were only a few more grawl between Selerious and the main square and they stood no chance against Selerious and his feline companion. By the time the town was clear of the enemy it was nearly sundown. Selerious hadn’t seen many people fight, mostly because they were either stuck with arrows of hiding indoors, but he had seen a small monk tending to the wounded the best she could, a strange fellow with wraps over his eyes that summoned a spirit and a strange white haired, ivory skinned ranger that had gone berserk on a bunch of grawl as Selerious was approaching the square.

Jolting back to awareness at the scream of a wounded civilian, Selerious noticed the number of wounded still spread along the side of the road, Selerious was slightly wounded himself, but his Troll Ugnent had taken care of the wounds. Rising to his feet Selerious prepared a healing spring, delivering the water to people around him to help in their recovery.

Ristaron · Feb 02, 2006, 07:48 AM // 07:48

"a strange white haired, ivory skinned ranger that had gone berserk on a bunch of grawl"

* ebonny skinned, not ivory skinned. Ebon = blackish, ivory = pinkish.

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As villagers armed themselves with borrowed blades, Ristaron and Morgan made their way to the town wall, and looked for signs of more parties. Less than fifty had entered the city, at least five times that amount still waited in the cover of the forest.
"At least this time we'll be ready", Ristaron said to Morgan. He had long ago done away with the notion that speaking to the wise wolf was pointless. Many nights he had found himself with only her company, and she had been better conversation than he had ever known. After several minutes passed, the ranger was satisfied that the rest of the army was staying put for a while, the reason for it beyond his understanding of the mechanics of the movement. He truly didn't care when they arrived, only that the town was ready for them.

Descending the stone stairs, Ristaron met a small group of Ascalon soldiers who had been approaching. The posture they walked with, their hands motionless at their sides in case the need to draw weapons arose, the cold stares from their young faces, alerted the ranger this was no conversation of friendly banter. Ristaron came to a halt several paces from the four guards, who spaced themselves evenly so as to impose their greater number on the ranger. The mountainfolk held his arms slightly out from his hips, palms exposed. A sign of peace.
"Who are you?" one questioned.
"Right now", Ristaron began, "it doesn't matter."
"It does to me", the same man pressed. The guard's muscles tightened slightly, and though he had been trained not to make it visible when he was on-guard, the slight shift was obvious to the ranger. Ristaron made no aggressive action, the last thing this defence needed was fighting amongst themselves.
"I am a friend", the ranger said simply, "that's all that is important."
"Your name, then, friend", the one beside the Captain said.
"Ristaron", the ranger answered. He said it slowly, so that they heard correctly. "May I ask why names are required?"
The Captain licked his dry lips. "I would like to make this meeting more personal". Ristaron knew there were other reasons, but for the moment he was willing to accept that explanation. The conversation was now in the Captain's hands, but the ranger now knew the man was better than to send away any help he could get.
"I am Captain Gylhan", the soldier said plainly, "and I have a word of advice that I give to you in friendship." The man took a step forward, not to be imposing but rather to made it clear that the information was specialized.
"Your kin rarely walk these streets", the Captain said, "I suggest you give the townspeople room, not everyone recognizes an ally from an enemy so easily."
"Thank you", Ristaron replied softly, bowing gently to the man.
The ranger decided not to press his company, and began walking. Morgan leapt from the wall and landed gracefully beside him. Her five hundred pounds of muscle causing a slight tremor as she met the earth.

Ristaron wandered for an hour or so, surveying the developping defense of the town. Guards rushed to and fro, parents bid their children stay hidden in the house while they took up arms - some swords and axes, others knives and rakes. The ranger watched as a young monk went all about tirelessly, mending cuts and bruises and stretching her divine favour onto the seriously wounded, speeding their recovery greatly. On the fifth hour, when he saw her still tending the hurt and maimed, he approached.
"You shouldn't keep wasting your energy on the minor injuries", he said. She looked at him with green eyes, almost hurt at the statement. "You need to rest, the morn will arrive with serious injuries and we need you to be on your feet."
As the two of them locked sights, Ristaron felt a distant tug at his heart. He knew he would see this one again.

Mentalmdc · Feb 02, 2006, 08:34 AM // 08:34

Whilst Rhiannon slept and recovered, the night passed increasingly slowy. The impending doom and looming threat that would imerge from the forest struck fear deep into even the stoutest heart. Throughout the night villagers mustered anything they could to create a defensive barrier. At least this would prove a helpful line of defence.

Ristaron paced backwards and forwards calculating in his mind a plan. This battle would have to be one of wits and tactics. Relius decided to approach Ristaron after having seen him play a key part in the battle. Perhaps together their cunning skills could yet devise a plan.

By the time the first peaks of sunlight pierced the treetops everything was set. Blocking all the main roads were piles of furniture where long pike men would try to hold back as much as they could. Further back were more stockades built from junk. Bowmen albeit very inexperienced would attempt to offer what cover they could. Once overrun they would retreat. It was hoped that this would provide enough time for the other main group to set up in the main square. Catapults which would fire cutlery were being constructed. Meanwhile hidden traps were being planted by the two skillful rangers.

However the main attempts at survival would not be witnessed until during the battle. When morning finnally came, to the suprise of the village, nothing came. Looking out to the forest only dust blowing in the wind could be seen. The villagers began to grow restless with Ristaron. Someone so strange and different telling them what to do! The grawl never normally attacked in such huge numbers, maybe it was over. They would rather run for it. These untrained soldiers thought they knew best. Ristaron tried to keep order. When it looked like things were going to fall to pieces, the largest tragedy of the day occured...

...The town hall collapsed revealing a series of tunnels. Out of these tunnels eurpted the Grawl main army, thousands and thousands of them. The Ascalonians were caught from behind and the shock and surprise cost the lives of many. Rhiannon was still wiping the sleep from her eyes as an arrow slammed into the pillar next to her. A grawl jumped up and slashed her arm sending her flying. Again it picked her up and sent her through a pillar of wood. Dazed and injured, Rhiannon fell unconcious. There would not be enough healing today.

Rilder · Feb 02, 2006, 01:03 PM // 13:03

OOC: I'm New to this whole thing so give me a chance, if I should pm you before I post then I'm sorry, but here I go. =/
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Zarda Markazo was one of the many levies in Cayven, given leather scraps as armor, a couple nailed together boards with a handle for a shield, and slightly rusty short sword and given minimal training during the night, he understood he would probably die in the attack, but he had held himself firm, during the whole chaos of the town and all the soldiers thinking they knew best, he stood waiting, on guard his sword and shield held. Then the town hall collapsed, shocking him from his stance but he recovered quickly and started running through the shamble of confusion towards the Grawl. His charge must of put will in some of the other levies and soldiers because before he knew it he was leading the charge into the hoard of Grawl.

The battle line hit, Zarda sliced left and right at Grawl, evading hammer attacks, he ducked another hammer attack and tried blocking another which shattered his shield in half, he didn’t stop though, the less weight he had to carry meant that he could evade attacks better; but even so, he was weakening; exhaustion was taking its toll, and he backed off from the battle. Then the arrows hit; as he was just clearing the battle several well aimed shots hit him in the back, their burning arrows sent him into a screaming pain as he dropped to his knees then fell forward once more, passing into unconsciousness.

Ristaron · Feb 02, 2006, 05:18 PM // 17:18

OOC: Thousands? Not to seem too realistic (since this is fantasy), but that's a lot...

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Ristaron swerved around from his position at the front wall with several soldiers, startled by the clamorous crashing. He had taken the hints that the town did not like him, and for most of the morning had stood watching the fields for any sign of advance, the collar of his longcoat unfolded so it stood on his shoulders, hiding most of his face. It was not shame that made him secretive, though, just the desire to escape the scrutinizing glares of many townsfolk.
The town hall itself Ristaron could not see, for it was behind many rows of wooden houses, but above the numerous thatched roofs he could see a cloud of dust rising. Something large had fallen. Morgan growled beside him, and rose from the place she had been lying down in for several hours. Her powerful muscles were tight in anticipation.
"Alright", Ristaron said, shouldering the longbow and quiver of arrows he had retrieved from a dead ranger. He had vowed to put it to good use.

The pair jogged along the main road, but picked up their speed to a run when they heard screaming and the sounds of battle. Moving to the opposite side of the road, Ristaron grasped the bow and notched an arrow, ready to find a target when one became visible around the corner.
But before he got there, a pack of Grawl appeared. One carrying the head of one of the townsfolk Ristaron had seen a few hours ago. A moment later, the Grawl with the trophy lay dead with an arrow in its neck.
A gray blur barrelled into another of the savages. Powerful paws pinned the creature's shoulders to the ground when Morgan had taken it down, and in a flash, a strong maw had torn out the Grawl's throat. A third went down in the confusion, the arrow piercing its lung. Then a fourth to the mighty gray lupine. But by now, the remaining four were running straight for the lone ranger.
Ristaron tossed aside the bow and quiver and drew his rapiers. He took a running start at the advancing pack, and then swerved left. The Grawl on the end was fast enough to get around and swing his mighty warhammer in a lateral attack, but the agile ranger ducked this, and as he passed sliced out with a razor-sharp blade. The beast fell to the earth clutching its calf. Ristaron fell back slightly, not allowing the progression of the other three to get the full effect. But their loose ranks were put into a state of confusion again when five hundred pounds of Morgan collided with the party, taking two off their feet. The third kept its concentration, and swung with a large falchion in a wide attack that was easily avoided. But in the short time it took for the creature to recover, the nimble ranger moved in, cutting two long gashes in the enemy's tough hide. One along the massive chest (following the same direction as many scars on the creature's torso), and one severing a few of the tendons in the creature's wrist. Enraged, the Grawl reached out with its remaining usable hand and grabbed Ristaron around the neck. With a heave of the creature's mighty arm, the ranger's light body was sent through the air. Hitting the wall before hitting the earth, Ristaron shook his head to ward off the daze and looked up to see the creature charging.
Thinking quickly, the mountainfolk forced himself to his feet, and gripped his rapiers so that the blades pointed down. He then lifted his arms and put his thumbs against the wall, so that the points of the weapons were aimed at the advancing creature.
Realizing the danger too late, the grawl was unable to stop, and he ran straight into the metal blades of the ranger's rapiers.
The two of them fell to the earth, the wind knocked from Ristaron. He got up slowly, and saw that Morgan had dispatched of the other two from the original party. The ranger retrieved one of his blades, but felt pain along his side as he tore the weapon free of the dead creature's flesh. Running his other hand along his side, the ranger was sure he had broken a few of his slender ribs.
With no choice, he ignored it and reclaimed his other rapier, and went to aid in the rest of the battle.