Curse

Mentalmdc · Feb 02, 2006, 07:33 PM // 19:33

The battle raged on, but within the first few hours it was evident the Cayven would be overrun. The villagers that had once been so eager to fight for peace, truth and justice lay dead with their weopons shattered on the floor. Blood ran like rivers down the street and buildings collapsed frequently from the billowing flames. The central street became the scene for the final meatgrinder.

Ristaron ran down the road but tripped over two bodies. Looking down upon them he realised them to be two key figures he had seen before. Looking at the girl he remembered it to be Rhiannon, she did not appear to injured so he chanted a few words of the moutainfolk and sprinkled some old herbs on her forhead. Touching her, a lightness flowed through her and she began to come to. Unfortunately for the other, now recognised as Zarda, it was looking bad. The arrow had surely well and truly planted itself deep in his back and if something was not done soon, he would truly die. Thankfully, Rhiannon came round in time and managed to heal his injury. However it would be some time before he would be back to full health.

The Grawl knocked the scattering Ascalonian guards aside. The square was overrun and the central street became a face off. At one end an increasingly large amount of Grawl. At the other only a simple barricade of piled up chairs and tables. Behind this barricade were Ristaron, Rhiannon and the other heroes backed up by only a few remaining villagers. The grawl charged waving their weopons savagely in the air. The noise was an unbearable buzz. Rhiannon had a bow thrust in her hands from an unknown stranger. All the archers took a step forward, but instead of sending a barrage at the appraoching army they fired sideways into a building. This severed a rope and barrels of tacky oil crashed into the grawl coating their coarse skin in thick black ooze.

The grawl unswayed by this disturbance carried on to charge. Rhiannon pulled out a dagger and cut another rope. This released to large logs either side of the road, covered in spikes they sliced into the Grawls cutting them up. But still more came. An overeager archer fired a shot.

"Hold your fire! Wait until they are closer," cried Ristaron.

The grawls were within 200ft when finnaly the Ascalonians fired a barrage of flaming arrows, with that the oil burst up into a blaze, sending fleeing grawls into one another screaming cries of pain.
"Fire at will!"
The twanging of bows filled the air as wave after wave of arrows flew into the Grawls. A few of the traps had been delivered but there would have been more had the battle gone according to plan. Before long the Grawls were diving over the barricade, hand to hand combat took the place of the archers. Rhiannon was wielding a slightly overlarge Flaming sword. She thrashed it into a nearby Grawl but still more and more clambered over.
Rhiannon looked around hoplessly as the heroes found themselves completely surrounded facing overwhelming odds. Back to back they struggled cutting down Grawls, diving forward and never giving up.

Symeon · Feb 02, 2006, 08:36 PM // 20:36

(earlier)
After meeting Rhiannon in the village inn, Mylena had wandered out of the village. Maybe she would find others that she could tell about the grawl...for now she would make sure she kept a look out for anything incoming while getting some rest.
She sat down beside an oak tree, and for a while watched the bushes beside the path which she had come along sway in the wind. Then she began to sink lower and lower, and eventually fell asleep.

When she awoke, it was to hear panicked noises. She turned and ran into the village, to find people running about, grawl turning corners with their hammers above their heads and archers firing from behind them. Over the market stalls towered a very large grawl who looked particularly menacing. Mylena could see several people on the ground, wounded, and two or three grawl were bashing their hammers on the door of the inn which had been closed. The grawl had come on the town swiftly, it seemed.

Mylena drew her bow and bent down to kindle her arrows. She then brought on the extra power of the flame that she could, and looked around to choose a target. That one swinging his hammer around in the middle of those people will do, she thought, and aimed right at its head, letting the flaming arrow fly and stick straight in, bringing a singeing sound and a loud moan from the beast.

But she knew carrying out heavy arrow fire was not ideal in crowded areas. She would need to find a high point to fire from where others could not reach her. Running along the street, she spotted a mossy stone ledge beside a wall that led around to a stone slab on a small high mound a fair distance above the street. She leapt up and ran up to the slab. Kindling her arrows again, she knelt down and peered around. Aiming at and archer, she came up slightly and fired, then went back down. She began to get into a rhythm of doing this, taking out a large amount of grawl.

As she did this, she noticed others fighting. Some were clearly levies, village men who had been mustered at the town hall and given basic weapons to give a tiny amount of defence. However, one fighter caught her eye - a dark skinned ranger who was fighting the grawl up close, clearly with much experience. He had a pet alongside him to deal good damage to the enemy. Mylena began to work with him, firing her arrows at nearby grawl so as for him to take out others while not being exposed. The grawl just seemed to keep coming, and they were clearly dealing a large amount of destruction. As well as the ranger, Mylena could see a female monk running around tending to people, another ranger, and someone that looked like a ritualist who was bringing up spirits. With the few fighters there they seemed to be holding the grawl back. Eventually it seemed like the army was beginning to move off. There had not really been that many, evidenced by the few that they had actually brought down on the streets. But Mylena saw the ranger heading to the wall. He was looking out and pointing into the forest, talking to someone. The female monk continued to move around, healing people, and guards seemed to be moving around, sorting out more defences. Mylena decided to take a stroll, and then she lay down to rest at her high spot. She figured if she were woken up then she would be ready to fight again.

She slept well into the morning, and when she awoke it was as she expected. There was a commotion coming from the town hall...after a while Mylena saw people running out onto the streets. The grawl had returned, and this time in larger number. She began to fire from her position again, and watched as some tired levies tried to hold off the relentless enemy. It was clear this time that the defences were losing...guards were retreating, and the other experienced fighters were struggling on. Cayven was being overrun...the fight could not go on forever...there were too many...Mylena was becoming tired. The routine of kindling her arrows made it that little bit harder for her, and made the arrows heavier. Though she did more damage, especially to these unarmoured padded-skin beasts, she could not keep up the continuous loop of firing for long periods. She found herself resting, then firing a few more arrows, then resting...all the while seeing others in retreat...

Brother Doug · Feb 02, 2006, 10:49 PM // 22:49

(OOC: Mentalmdc- No offense meant by this, I know it's your first time, but Ristaron and Ristaron alone should really be decidng what his character does.)

Relius was shocked. It had all happened so fast, and in only an evening. Yesterday’s battles had been nothing but a quick skirmish compared to this. This was the might of an army, an army too large to defeat by only a few skilled fighters. Many of the Cayven army had fled, leaving terrified villagers huddled inside their homes. As Relius ran through the streets, he saw a burly, scarred grawl splinter a wooden door, madly swinging its axe. There was an ear-splitting shriek from inside, and the grawl returned, its axe imbrued with blood. Relius’ own blood boiled, and he began to summon his ally. Yet even before it could appear in front of him, a giant gray blur smashed into the grawl. It was dead when it hit the ground, a huge gash across its stomach. The gray blur Relius had seen was actually a wolf; not an ordinary wolf, but a giant, snarling beast that was definitely lethal to anything that got in its way.

“A rare animal, that is,” the spirit who had now appeared before Relius noted. “It must have an owner, otherwise you’d be dead by now. Of course, I’d still be-”

“Spirit, this is not the time for idle chatter,” Relius quickly cut the spirit off. “An army of grawl has breached Cayven’s walls. We must try and defend these people at all costs. I will summon more spirits. Protect me!”

“As you wish, binder,” the spirit bowed his corporeal head slightly, charging up the energies inside him. Relius began chanting, summoning spirits of fire, earth, and lightning to destroy the intruders. As he chanted he looked up, seeing the owner of the giant wolf step into view. He looked in pain. He was like no human he had ever seen before, with ebony skin and silver hair. Relius watched him slice open the stomach of an unsuspecting grawl who had just come around the corner. This man, or whatever he was, was clearly an experienced fighter.
After some time, the incantations were complete. Ghostly pillars of fire, stone, and air erupted from the ground, and a spirit of each type materialized in its place. The fire spirit burned bright yellow. It was lizard-like in shape, with blazing red holes for eyes. The earth spirit was made of the very ground itself, with stone, dirt, and vines all cluttered into one massive hulk. The misty air spirit swirled into being, crackling with energy and mischief in its amber eyes. Chains inscribed with runes leapt up, binding the spirits to Relius’ will. The spirits moaned from the weight and power of the chains.
As the spirits were summoned, a large band of grawl around fifteen in number strode smugly into the street. Relius realized there was more where they came from, and called to the ranger nearby, a slight panic in his voice.

“Sir! I know there is not much time to talk, but we must flee! There are too many grawl. This city is doomed; we cannot save all of the villagers. We must gather up all the able-bodied heroes in this city and escape. My elemental spirits will fend off these monsters, but only for a time. We must move! Cayven may fall, but we can still stop these beasts! What do you say?” Relius waited anxiously for the ranger’s reply.

Ristaron · Feb 03, 2006, 05:24 AM // 05:24

Ristaron's muscles complained as he forced himself to trudge along. Hours of fighting had caught up to him, and his movements were becoming more and more lethargic. Morgan too, was tiring, her enormous frame requiring more than simple muscles to keep moving. The ranger swung his head back quickly, sending his bloodstained mane of silver hair from his face. Though he heard it distantly, the ranger managed to move his attention to the sound of someone calling his name.
His surprise couldn't have been greater to find a Ritualist standing a mere thirty feet away. The hatred of generations sparked inside the mountainfolk, seeing one of the blood enemies of his people. But his tired muscles would not act as fast as he wanted, and he was forced to think over the situation again before he acted. It was in this second assessment that he noticed the unchained Spirit. Midnight eyes fixed on the demon* for a moment, and then shifted to the Ritualist.
Indeed, something was different about him. No binder ever kept a spirit unchained, it was the first rule they were taught.
The rest of the words the Ritualist had yelled to him sunk in when he saw through the translucent spectre, the advancing party of Grawl. He and Morgan had decimated at least a dozen today, but the ranger knew in his heart that this one would probably be the last.
The thought was not an unhappy one.

"Go!" Ristaron bade the Ritualist, whom he had to trust in these circumstances. "I'll hold them off."
A moment later, he was knocked from his feet by a gray blur. It wasn't a blow meant to harm him, he realized when he looked up to see his lupine companion's muzzle over his own ebonny-skinned face, merely to knock some sense into him. The Grawl were approaching fast, and the ranger was torn between his places. His inner battle was ended a moment later when Morgan bit into the collar of his cloak and began dragging him.
"Alright, alright!" the ranger conceded. But before he could begin to get to his feet his wolf companion raised herself to her hind legs, dragging her master up with her.
Standing as she was, the lupine was taller than the mountainfolk ranger. Her forepaws rested lightly on his shoulders, though he still felt the pressure in his knees until she slid off and led their quick retreat.

"We need to get everyone out of here", Ristaron said in a defeated voice, "the town is lost."

* a demon is defined as a creature from another dimension
(OOC:
I understand that you didn't know about the golden rule in roleplaying, Mentalmdc, but Brother Doug is correct in bringing it to your attention. I won't hold it against you, but please remember that only the character's creator should control him or her (lest it be a non-first-level character (first level: main characters)). No harm done, though, please keep up the posting - you have talent as a writer.)

Rilder · Feb 03, 2006, 09:23 AM // 09:23

Zarda ached but he felt no arrow anymore, the last he remembered was being dragged away from the lines and vaguely remembered the small monk healing him, but this was no time for pondering... though weakened and tired he lifted his body up and grabbed a small sword and shield lying near him and strapped the shield to his arm and readied his sword, when he got up he noticed the entire unit of levies had been decimated, many must of ran into the woods in horror, and he still saw Grawl coming out of the tunnels.

“There’s to many, we’ll never hold them back, our remaining men must be exhausted, ” he whispered to himself; examining the area.

Noticing an ebon skinned ranger standing next to a rather large wolf panting, he ran that way coming around a corner only to see a group of Grawl Charging forward, and several weird looking demon like beings next to an individual. Making a small prayer to Balthazar and tightening his grip to the short sword, Zarda pushed himself forward and met the Grawl in combat, stabbing one before it could even get its hammer raised and in the same movement used his shield to knock one another to the ground. He ducked as one Grawl swung its hammer and the inertia of the hammer slammed into another Grawl, his short sword allowed him to get up close to the Grawl, preventing them from getting enough swing with their heavy hammers without getting there arms sliced off in a slash by his blade, before long there was only one Grawl in the party; a brute of a Grawl wielding a vicious looking axe. The Grawl began the battle by lifting its axe above his head and charging at Zarda, evading by a hair, cutting a slash in his arm, Zarda ignored the slash and tried moving behind the large foe who countered by swinging side ways at his exposed side and Zarda jumped backward tripping backwards and smashing into the ground, when he looked up he saw the large Grawl charging straight at him his axe raised high above his head preparing for the death blow. Closer, Closer, Closer, he was now swinging at him, and in the last possible second Zarda threw his legs into the belly of the Grawl sending it back a bit, getting up Zarda walked over to the Grawl trying to get up and pushed the short sword deep into the chest of the foe, it twitched several seconds and died. Zarda walked over to the axe the Grawl had wielded, now lying several feet away, picking it up, it seemed lighter then the way the Grawl had used it, perfect for now…

Mentalmdc · Feb 03, 2006, 04:40 PM // 16:40

(OOC: Sorry wasn't sure about that rule, won't do it anymore

Sorry for any spelling mistakes, my hands are icy blue as i just got in and i'm very cold so its a little hard to type :S)

After hearing the call to abandon the town Rhiannon took a final solemn glance around her. Grawl stampeded through the streets on every corner. Rhiannon looked to her right and saw a poor Levie in combat about to be cut down. Rhiannon said a quick prayer to Dwayna and lept forward her heart racing, pumping, thumping. She arced her sword high into the air and brought it back down to earth with tremendous power onto the back of the grawls head. The levie looked relieved.

"Thankyou monk, you have saved my life. My name is Fillis. We have to get out of here. I used to be the stablemaster, a horse should be just round the corner, come on!"

Rhiannon and fillis ran through a pack of Grawl using shear strength to break the ranks. Rhiannon glanced back at a few of the heroes making their own ways out of town. Rhiannon before she knew it was hoisted upon a large shimmering black stallion, it jumped up a little frightened of the commotion. Rhiannon spoke some of the language of the monks of Teng-hui;

"Telah ti kuroom ti la toono di alak de koom," instantly the horse was calmed.

Rhiannon gripped the back of fillis for all she was worth. Resorting to a bow she fired at surrounding Grawls whilst the power of the stallion sent them flying as they charged through. The exit of the town was in sight. Safety and freedom were near. But it was not to be.

The Grawl Chieftan was covered in his tribal headress of flowing red feathers and the most intricate shell necklaces. He turned the corner to see a horse with two people on it come right for him. A giant of a grawl he grabbed a hammer and took an almighty heave.

The horse slammed into the ground and rolled over, quickly recovering it darted off leaving Rhiannon and Fillis on either side of the road. The chieftan turned on Fillis.

"Rhiannon run! You are need yet further in this conflict, I will attempt to hold him," cried Fillis.

Unfortunately Fillis' heroic words barely left his mouth before he was severed in twoo by a Grawl from behind. Rhiannon screamed and chanted a prayer of speed. Dramatically Rhiannon began to speed up with a blinding holy light erupting from her. The light blinded the nearby Grawls allowing Rhiannon to get to safety. The town was lost.

Rhiannon was panting as she clambered up a grassy mound, distant from the town. Rhiannon was gladly met by a familiar face. Rhiannon due to the extreme exertion of the day and emotional strain burst into tears and fell into his arms.

The soldier of the A.S. Char Slayer (A.S. = Ascalion Ship) who had taken her to Ascalon stood once again staring down at the girl. He had returned from Cantha. Rhiannon now knew his name as Duruk.

"Todays fighting is over but times are going to get worse. Upon arriving back to Ascalon I heard devastating news. The attack on Cayven was not the only one. All over Ascalon key towns have fallen. The Ascalonian Imperial army was caught of guard and we are now down to a measely 12% of our origional number. Whats worse is 89% of Ascalon is in enemy hands. You are certainly a lucky one to be alive. You can still be of great help though young one, we need to once again travel into the mountains and revive the alliances of old. United we can defeat this force and find out what is driving it." Duruk informed.

Rhiannon looked over at the smoldering town. So this was to be her role in the dying Golden Age of Ascalon. She had studied the alliances of old including Dwarves, Krytans, Orrians and the Surukata of a forgotten province. It would quite a task to pursuade them to return. That is if they weren't the ones behind the disaster that had befallen Ascalon.

In the meantime an anxious Rhiannon the Holy waited eagerly to see whether any of the other heroes she had met in Cayven had managed to make it out alive when the retreat had been sounded.

LaserLight · Feb 04, 2006, 08:52 AM // 08:52

Never mind. Looks like I managed to miscount somehow. My apologies for interfering, please enjoy your game.

Rilder · Feb 04, 2006, 03:52 PM // 15:52

Zarda was in a fighting retreat, trying to hold his best while the villagers ran off, his arms burning in soreness, dispatching another mob he panted heavily, barely having the strength to carry the axe anymore, let alone kill Grawl, as he looked up; he saw yet another mob of Grawl coming his way. Openly yelling a prayer to Dwayna to heal him and Balthazar to give him strength, Zarda charged in, cleaving his axe left and right ripping Grawl to pieces and ducking and dodging hammer attacks the best he could. Dispatching that group he finally decided that if he continued he would surely be dead within minutes and proceeded to limp his way towards some of the barricades set up near the settlement.

Upon reaching one of the barricades, Zarda noticed a small figure on a distant mound.

“The monk girl, I must get to her”

Limping in a hurried fashion Zarda finally, after what seemed like hours arrived at the mound, but was too exhausted and collapsed into unconsciousness right there and then, the last thing he saw was the monk and another person running over to him…

(ooc: sorry for shortness)

Brother Doug · Feb 04, 2006, 04:20 PM // 16:20

(OOC: Hmm...the party seems to be getting kind of big. I think 6 was the maximum, and Laserlight makes 7...since Ristaron's leading, I'll let him decide. As for an update on Relius...not yet. Sometime later today, hopefully.

)

Ristaron · Feb 05, 2006, 04:12 AM // 04:12

(OOC: Thank you for backing out, Lazerlight. Perhaps next time.)

As the ranger forced himself through the streets with determination alone, he searched for survivors in the rubble and chaos. Open fires burned around every corner, barrels of hay and thatche-roofed houses alike played fuel to the elemental display. Ristaron's hands were gripped like a deathlock around the hilts of his elegant rapiers, the blood not yet cleaned from their silvery blades.
Ahead of him, Morgan's tongue was lolled out much longer than usual -- a sign she was dehydrated. The ranger felt thirst as well, but surrounded by so much blood, his appetite was more than lost.

The next street they turned revealed to the pair a troubling scene. A horse toppled over, sending the riders to the earth. Among them was Rhiannon, the young monk who Ristaron had cautioned to conserve her strength last night when she had continued tirelessly to mend the many minor injuries. Ristaron's midnight eyes narrowed when he saw the reason the horse spooked: the Grawl Chief stood in the middle of the road -- looming dreadfully large now that the ranger could see him up front.
As Ristaron watched, Rhiannon's companion was brutally cloven in two by one of the Shaman's guards, and the young monk was alone.
All weariness left the ranger, his mind set. Too many had died this day, an innocent healer would not join that list. Ristaron exploded into action, Morgan joining him. The enormous lupine cleared the thirty feet between the ranger and the guard in a few easy bounds, taking it down from behind. The poor savage never stood a chance.

The ranger sped past the kill, and caught the attention of the Shaman who had been preparing to attack the fleeing Rhiannon.
"For Great Justice!" the former soldier yelled, and he set his charge straight for the gigantic Grawl. The Shaman took its massive hammer and made a lateral swing for the advancing mountainfolk. But Ristaron had already increased the speed of his steps and let his body fall behind, so that when the enormous weapon came at him like a meteor he had fallen into a slide. As he glided past the Chief, his left rapier came out and bit deep into the Grawl's calf. Roaring in pain, the Shaman swung his massive hammer above his head, and down at the ranger. But the agile mountainfolk had already rolled to the side, and all that was to show of the powerful attack was a crater in the earth.
In a flash, the ranger was up, rapiers dancing wildly. Minor cuts accumulated on the creature's tough skin, and its tattoed fur became stained with red. A viscious attack cut along the Grawl's face, through its right eye.
A grip of rage overcame the Shaman, and it lashed out with hammer, claws, and teeth. On any other day, the nimble ranger would have easily been able to avoid the slow attacks, but Ristaron was lethargic with exhaustion, and the beast managed to catch him with a scratch that cut three parallel lines along his left shoulder.
His concentration lost, Ristaron tripped and fell backwards, not even managing to roll and absorb any of the force of the tumble.
And as countless times before, his life was taken from the grips of death by his massive lupine companion.

Even the gigantic Grawl Shaman could not stand strong when five hundred pounds of muscle collided with him, and the savage was knocked to the ground. The earth shook as the two beasts hit the ground. The Chief's hammer slid along the scortched earth to rest several feet away as the Shaman and the giant wolf clawed and bit visciously. Finally, they rolled apart, and it looked that no victor had been declared. Morgan's teeth had bits of the Shaman's flesh dangling from them, but a nasty gash ran along the wolf's side.

Forcing himself to his feet, Ristaron readied to attack again, but he was relieved as he witnessed a huge spirit soar in, unleashing an otherworldly fury on the enemy.

(cue: Brother Doug

)

EDIT:

:O I made Sancho Panza... been a while since my last rank upgrade.

Brother Doug · Feb 05, 2006, 02:12 PM // 14:12

(OOC: I think I'll take that cue.

)

Leaving the elemental spirits to do their work, Relius ran, following the ranger from a distance. The fires still burned hot, and the rotting stench of death and decay filled the ritualist’s nose. He resisted the urge to throw up his breakfast and ran on, the unbound spirit at his side. Turning a corner, Relius saw a black stallion fall to the ground, sending its two riders flying. Before he or the spirit could act, one of the riders was split in half by a menacing Grawl. The other, a young monk who Relius did not know, managed to get on her feet and begin to run.
The ritualist watched as Ristaron lunged at the Grawl, rapiers at the ready. He believed no assistance would be needed, as he knew Ristaron was a powerful person. Perhaps, Relius thought, he would make a strong ally.

The Grawl chief swung his hammer above its head at the ranger, but he dodged the blow before it could make contact with his skull. As his twin rapiers slashed down on the Grawl with less and less force, Relius knew he was tiring. A quick swing of the Grawl’s hammer knocked the ranger to the ground. Luckily, his wolf companion tackled the monster. After a bit of a tumble, both combatants lay sprawled on the ground. Neither of them was dead, but they weren’t in the best of shape, either. Relius decided that it was time to interfere. Alone, the ranger was tired. He ordered the spirit to attack the Grawl chieftan.

The spirit rushed forward towards the Grawl and let loose a bolt of superheated lightning. It missed the Grawl by a few inches, but it was enough to get its attention. The Grawl gave an inhuman roar, grabbed its hammer, and raised it high above its head, behind its right shoulder. The spirit flew to the left, dodging the blow. As it flew, its nails began to lengthen in size, becoming more like claws. It thrashed at the Grawl’s cheek, leaving four red scratches. Howling with pain and rage, the Grawl swung its hammer in a full circle, knocking the spirit in the jaw. The incorporeal jawbone broke off, flew away, and landed at the ritualist’s feet. Relius jumped backwards in surprise. He decided to assist the spirit, throwing five otherworldly blasts at the Grawl. Two hit in the Grawl’s stomach, making it double over in pain. The spirit then shoved it to the ground in its moment of weakness, knocking the hammer out of its hand. The spirit clawed more at its face, slashing left, right, left, right. Its claws struck true; the beast was blinded. Moaning in agony, the Grawl stumbled about, looking for its hammer. Taking the opportunity, Relius walked up towards the Grawl and slammed the staff into its head. With a loud crack, the Grawl fell. Before the spirit could deliver the final blow, Ristaron’s wolf had ripped out its throat. The spirit floated over to Ristaron, popping the jaw back into its head.

“That’s certainly one way to deal with it,” the spirit said. It gave a light chuckle, and then looked at the ranger. “You’re lucky we arrived, or you’d be dead. You owe us… mountainfolk.” It gave a satisfied grin, looking from wolf to ranger.

“Spirit, this is not the-” Relius paused. “Did you say mountainfolk?”
“Yes, I do believe that’s what I said. This one’s most definitely a mountainfolk. Probably allied with those pitiful Kurzick, he is,” the spirit spat out the word “Kurzick” like a bad taste.

Relius thought. A mountainfolk, lying weakened in front of him…from the stories he’d heard from his Luxon friends in Cantha, the mountainfolk were vicious fighting beasts, and the Kurzick’s most powerful weapons. Of course, no Canthan that Relius knew had actually seen a mountainfolk…until now. He pondered the situation, wondering if he should kill him right there or not. If the rumors were true, he was an enemy of his people, and would kill him the moment he got the chance. But on the other hand, he hadn’t tried to kill him when they first met. And he certainly seemed likeable. He didn’t seem anything like the mountainfolk in the stories, although he was an outstanding fighter. Relius decided to trust him…for now.

“Come, mountainfolk,” Relius helped Ristaron up, much to the spirit’s dislike. “We must leave this place. I am Relius: Luxon, Ritualist, and the keeper of the Unbound One. Before we go, may I ask who you are?”

Symeon · Feb 05, 2006, 03:43 PM // 15:43

As Mylena tired, she watched the others down below her. The ranger and his pet charged in to attack more grawl, taking on several. He was beaten, and fell to the floor. Then his pet saved him, leaping up at his attackers, but then she too was injured by a sword gash.
It was then that the ritualist who had been staying back sent in a spirit to attack the enemy. The battle was ferocious, but eventually with its power the grawl chieftain was taken down. However, more were coming. The enemy did not halt in its attacks. They had to get out before they were surrounded and overpowered.
Mylena watched as the ritualist helped the ranger up and talked to him. She had not introduced herself yet, but thought she should wait for them to decide on whatever they were doing before she joined them. In the mean time, she kindled her arrows and brought on the flame, and continued to fire at grawl coming through a gate. They were nearly the only fighters defending in here now, so she felt she needed to carry on holding them off until the time was right. Perhaps the others would see her and call her down.

Mentalmdc · Feb 05, 2006, 06:08 PM // 18:08

(OOC: Mines a bit short but as I'm safe not much else I can say until you guys get to safety

)

Rhiannon welcomed Zarda with a thankful heart, glad to see that at last someone else had survived the ferocious onslaught. As Rhiannon gazed over she saw another archer in the distance firing down upon the city as the ritualist and mountainfolk prepared to make their escape.

Rhiannon looked over to Zarda and Duruk. Duruk pulled out a dusty old scroll, imprinted on its frail ancient lines was a map of Tyria and the Wildlands of the North. The 3 began to contemplate what their first move would be. Duruk pointed out that several key strongholds had been taken and that the High Council of Elders were moving the captial to the Grand old city of Rin. Any surviving warriors and all who could help were being asked to muster there.
"However I do not think this a wise idea. The king is panicing in such a time as this, the army in ruins he will send us to our doom. He wants to gather a force to make a final last stand. All who go i fear will perish as those in these other towns have done. No, we must travel throught the fields of Gildor and into the mountains. I hear the mesmers make good company at Foibles Fair. Last I heard it was not hit and the Grawl have not struck that far south. We can make it there by nightfall if we hurry and rest for the night," instructed the captain. Rhiannon knew this was a wise decision but her heart lay still with those who had perished. " How can we let more walk idly to their doom, we are too few to save the nation, surely can we not go to Rin and pursuade more to join us?" Pleaded Rhiannon.
"I myself have already tried, any who leave are outcast by the King and sentenced to death. The King has become foolhardy and his advisors are manipulating him in a means to gain power. Also I fear it may already be too late. Come on, we have no time to lose!"

The three stood waiting on the hilltop desperately hoping the others would make it. To gain their attention to show them where to go, Rhiannon shot a flame into the ground which sprouted into a mini beacon of light. Time was running out for Tyria.

Ristaron · Feb 05, 2006, 11:54 PM // 23:54

Reluctantly, Ristaron took the Ritualist's tattooed hand and was pulled to his feet. His midnight eyes changed between the unbound spirit and the binder, contemplating, calculating.
"My name is Ristaron", he answered at long last, "and I am not allied with Kurzick." His attention focused on the spirit. "Nor am I endebted to you any more than you are to me, demon of the Underworld."
Morgan, sensing the rising tension, came and sat beside her master. The wound on her side didn't look as bad as it had a minute ago, but it needed treating.
What may have been a fight was avoided when an ignited arrow soared over their heads, pegging another Grawl straight in the chest and immolating its painted fur. The group's attention was brought back to their surroundings, and they knew their dispute would have to wait.
"Let's go", the ranger said, and he set a quick pace for the open gate.
As they neared the grand portal, a signal flare lit up to the Northwest. Ristaron's trained eyes saw three shapes on a tall hill, one of them smaller and slimmer.
He hoped it was the young monk.

They came to the massive gate after a short minute, and Ristaron looked back. In a secure position, an archer still fired at Grawl prowling the streets in search of flesh and bones. He raised his arm to get the woman's attention, and regretted it a moment later when the limb felt like it was on fire. Searching for the source, the ranger found the scratches on his shoulder. Quickly glancing back, he knew he had caught the archer's attention and turned his own focus to his shoulder. As the group exited the town quickly, casting quick glances behind to see if their friend needed help, Ristaron fumbled through his medicine pouch around his neck, eventually producing from it a small vial. Pulling the cork, a sweet scent filled the immediate area, a relaxing smell like a garden of roses. Tipping the bottle, he scooped some of the waxy, semi-viscous contents with his index finger, and applied the unguent to his shoulder.
Relief immediately began to sink in, and the mountainfolk felt more energized with the effects of the ointment sinking in. He checked how much he had left, having not refilled the phial for some time. There was still plenty for Morgan.

They continued their fast march towards the trio on the hill in silence, the giant wolf loping ahead, the spirit floating gently alongside, and the humanoids with their thoughts introverted.
Ristaron considered Relius' introduction.
I am Relius: Luxon, Ritualist, and the keeper of the Unbound One.
"Relius: Luxon", Ristaron thought to himself, "not Zaishen?"

(OOC: Brother Doug, I assumed your character would travel with mine (or near enough that they aren't seperate parties), but if you want Relius to go without Ristaron (ahead or lagging behind...or even not departing with him) I can edit this bit of my post... I just needed to have Relius near enough to Ristaron to close off the post in the way I wanted -- I can always change it, though, if you don't like your character's actions.)

Brother Doug · Feb 06, 2006, 01:09 AM // 01:09

(OOC: It's fine by me that Relius and Ristaron are traveling together; it's actually what I wanted. A bit of conflict always makes a good story.

No new updates from me right now, though. It's too late, and I have other stuff to get done )

Ristaron · Feb 06, 2006, 05:41 AM // 05:41

(Ok, that works for me then.

)

Rilder · Feb 06, 2006, 06:43 AM // 06:43

Below, in the city, screams still cried out like the wolf into the moon, Zarda was exhausted, sore, and sorrowful. From his seat on the ground next to the small monk and Duruk, he pondered what to do next. “If We don’t help the king were outcast’s, if we help him were dead?” questioned Zarda watching a couple figures march towards them, one with a pet by his side and the other with some kind of ghost by his side. “Yes,” nodded Duruk, who was still pouring over the map by himself. “We need Armor, weapons, and rest, I for one don’t want to go back into another battle with these rags,” Spoke Zarda while showing Duruk various rips and tears on his leather armor. “Are there any armories around here, if I remember correctly Fort Ranik is South East of Foibles Fair, If your correct in saying the Grawl haven’t hit south yet then Ranik should be safe. There should be enough supplies to hold us for a few days and to re-arm,” pondered Zarda out loud while still tracking the movement of the figures marching closer. Duruk, looking into his map, “Your right I suppose, but we should still stop near Foibles Fair and rescue whoever’s left there, If the Grawl move south they would be hit hard,” responded Duruk. “Ranik would make a good point to stand up against the Grawl, seeing as the Grawl haven’t hit that far yet, its obvious there sappers didn’t make tunnels that far yet, or haven’t finished them yet, either way we have to hurry.”

Mentalmdc · Feb 06, 2006, 06:28 PM // 18:28

(OCC: For the purpose of moving the party to a new location I will take brief general control if that is alright with you guys but can change later if it is disliking to your roles.)

Rhiannon was glad to see Ristaron again and his companions. At first sight she saw the horrendous wounds that covered him, however the unguent he had applied seemed to be working its magic, to be sure, Rhiannon cast a quick healing spell to speeden the process.

The party moved off quickly hoping to reach Foibles Fair before nightfall. As the fellowship began their long hike at haste they looked back. The burning ruins of Cayven saddened Rhiannon deeply, she had not been in Ascalon long but its sheer beauty had provided an uplifting sensation to her spirit, seeing it burning caused her heart to yearn. They had to move quickly, for the Grawl were reorganising and would be upon them soon. The party trudged along at a steady pace and it didn't take long before the grassy plains and autumn gold trees began to get scarce and the icy cold snow began to coat the ground. Derelict of all life the party walked on mostly in silence, the long day catching up on them.

As the party were walking through a steep mountain pass Rhiannon stumbled, a trickle of blood where she had grazed her knee stained the pure white snow and maroon red. Rhianoon looked up into the eyes of Duruk as he offered her a hand. She felt so helpless in these times.

Night fell quickly and it plummeted the party into absolute darkness. The stars sparkled in the night sky and the peace was calming to the soul. The tired, beleaguered party arrived at foibles fair. Everywhere you looked refugees huddled in blankets shivering in the cold. Monks ran back an forwards tending to the wounds and trying to comfort the wailing cries of those who mourned the fallen. Never had Foibles Fair been a more solemn place, never before a place where the community was so united in fear and a desire to help each other. No one welcomed the party as it was unknown the feats they had performed. The tired party just set down in the corner and blended in amongst the hundreds of other who used the old wooden stalls as cover from the howling wind. In Foibles Fair that night there were no differences between people, only a desire to help. Before long Rhiannon fell into a deep sleep, breathing heavily she dreamed.

Rhiannon awoke abruptly, a man raced over the hill screaming as loud as he could. Clad in Ascalonian Armour he limped over the snowy mound with an arrows in his thigh.

"People! People of Ascalon! The Grawl Army is only 1 days full march away. They have stolen many seige towers and seige weopons from our armouries. They come extremely well equipped. Their combined ranks reach far into the distance and they are heading for Fort Ranik. My scouting party was sent to assess them but all but me were slaughtered in a disastrous onslaught of arrows."

The soldier flailed his arms around, barely stopping to breath. "There is a reasonably large garrison of soldiers at Fort Ranik. Please! I ask all who can attend. You can make it within 2 hours and help prepare. Every able man, anyone who can weild a sword I beg you to go. We must make a stand. The King has even ordered what few men he had to go to Fort Ranik. Combined we may be able to outwit them."

Rhiannon looked towards her companions. She knew that the words this soldier spoke were to merely keep a high moral. There would be no chance of victory. Well, perhaps if the gods were on their side.

"You up for a challenge?"

Rilder · Feb 06, 2006, 06:52 PM // 18:52

Zarda had only got a few hours of sleep but he was rested enough, when the Ascalonian clad scout he woke abruptly, equipping his axe behind his back he stood up. and ran over to get the group together, within a few minutes the drowsy group was together soon becoming the last people in the fair, the rest walking sorrowful off to Ranik.

"Rearming will have to wait," Zarda Stated blankly pulling out his backpack. "Here take these arrows, I salvaged them during our walk here," Zarda threw some bundles of arrows to the rangers in the party and began pulling out various scraps of armor and twine. “We shouldn’t go to Ranik, we’ll be stuck within there walls” he blankly spoke, while attaching various armor pieces to his rags. We need a place to hide, to strike the Grawl army from behind, if these Grawl are being led by a intelligent force then its unlikely they will strike right away, they will starve them for awhile, In which case we may be able to scout out there forces, find out their weak spots and try to lure out individual squadrons.” Zarda spoke finishing his armor preparations and turning to look at the gathered few. “We’ll also need a way to send a message to the people inside, especially if we are to take out there towers, I trust you rangers are good longbow men?

(occ: Cue Ristaron

Ristaron · Feb 06, 2006, 10:34 PM // 22:34

(cue taken XD)

Ristaron had spent the quiet hours of the night with his hood drawn over his face. It remained shadowing his dark visage as he made his way to the arriving soldier. The ranger's respect for the man was deep, for the scout had travelled many miles on legs pierced by the crude Grawl shafts. The man winced as the healers did their best to remove the arrows quickly to end his pain. Powerful mending spells quickly closed the wounds, but the traces of scars still remained. Ristaron knew the monks were tired.
At first he would have disagreed with Zarda's plan, voiced that inside the walls of the mighty fortress was greater safety. But the logic sank in as Ristaron realized how the Cayven levie was playing to the strengths of the rangers. Even the savage Grawls who dwelt in forests often enough could not compare to a seasoned stalker of the woods. Rangers were one with nature, and it was their greatest advantage.
Assaulting the Grawl force from more sides than Fort Ranik could was not only tactical, but smart.
And so Zarda was the second man to earn the mountainfolk's respect this night.

With reflexes rejuvenated by the vitalizing magic of the young monk Rhiannon, Ristaron deftly caught one of the bundles of arrows midflight. He could feel the strong wood of the shafts through his thick gloves, and estimated there were eight or nine in the cloth wrapping. With a true marksman's expertise, the ranger weighed the bundle, and smiled distantly. Now all he needed was a bow.