Curse

Lord Ertihan · Feb 16, 2006, 06:05 AM // 06:05

(You know, as an RPer I've discovered an interesting twist you could have is to have an RPer RP the ENEMY. Have someone RP the Grawl! The Grawl could have an entire society, complete with a ritualistic, shamanistic heirarchy. I'd be very interested to see someone RP a Grawl grunt, looking to gain enough victory on the battlefield to rise to the rank of Ulodyte, and staring slack-jawed in awe of the battlehardened veterans [read: Grawl Bosses =D]. Of course, giving a face, name and personality to this Grawl means he probably shouldn't die in the first ten seconds of battle, but being Grawl means he'll probably be sacrificed, without any of his slayers knowing he's got a wife and pups back home =D (not to mention a soul and a personality). I tell ya, it's always more interesting when the enemy isn't some faceless menace but an actual person, even if you don't actually know it.

Another nitpicky thing: I doubt that the Grawl can speak the human tongue. I was always of the impression they had their own grunting speech patterns. I could imagine this conversation:
Grawl Archer: grunt grunt growwwl. (look at that human over there.)
Grawl Warrior: growl grunt grrr grunt. (oh, the ugly one?)
Grawl Archer: growl grunt grr grunt. chortle. (They're all ugly, man. Heheh.)
[The human says something to his companions]
Grawl Warrior (turns to Grawl Archer): Growl grunt growl? (now what's it babbling?)
Grawl Archer: Growl grunt grunt grr grunt? Growl grunt grunt grunt? (Who knows? Why you askin me anyway?)
Growl Ulodyte: Grunt, growl growl! GRRRR! (You two, shut up! GET THE HELL BACK INTO FORMATION!)

Ristaron · Feb 16, 2006, 11:02 PM // 23:02

(That's really lovely... have you even been in this RP yet, or are you just dropping by to look good? If the latter, please don't post more out of character things, this story needs to get going again, and that is harder to accomplish the more we get pointless posts.
Agreed that roleplaying the enemy gives a better light to the story (I am actually using that technique in the book I am writing), and if you look closely at the posts that have been done, you'll see that Mentalmdc has already applied this to the RP. Post # 57 in this thread, to be specific.)

Mentalmdc · Feb 17, 2006, 01:39 PM // 13:39

(OOC: It really kind of depends how far back in pre-searing we are. I understand about how hard it would be to take it back but i purely used it for the power of storytelling. If i explain in my mind how I see it, the heroes in our party if they somehow manage to kill duruk , just like the liche his army will fall to pieces and will be quite easy to mop up afterwards, but another idea would be that because of this Grawl invaision the Ascalonian forces were drastically depleted which forces them to resort to the Guilds which therefore gain power and later enter war with each other. Also on the aspect of dialect in my mind I just imagined it that Duruk had spent so long with them and studying them he had picked up their dialect or as GW is a world of magic, magic is what enables him to control them. But we can also play down his power if you like. Anyway, back to the story.)

Rhiannons body laid broken and bleeding on the white marbled floor of the grand hall. Beside her lay several other bodies but their faces were covered and who they were or even if they were the heroes was unknown. Duruk continued to look out, a loud booming horn resounded round the valley that the fort stood in. A cry was let loose and a pounding sound shook the ground. Dust rose up leaping like dolphins and a huge platoon of calvary charged down the hill sending Grawls flying. They cut up anyone and everything in their path wearing exquisite armour and using unique weopons. To the front of the army was a wizard looking character weilding a grand staff, bolts of light erupting from it. The calvary charged forward rushing through the gates of Fort Ranik and erupting into the broken coutyard.

The banner of the Krytan Guild Lords fluttered in the wind attatched to the pole gripped tightly by a rough looking standard bearer. These saviours would quite possibly bring victory and end the short reign of this newly crowned Lord of Ascalon however with them they would bring their contrasting ideololy of Guild dominance, so contrasting that in the long run it would cause all of Tyria to be plunged into a devastating 70 year war of blood and violence before Ascalon had barely recovered from the atrocities of this day.

Duruk spun round and looked down upon the helpless monk and let out a howling cry of frustration. He had an evil dark menacing look in his eyes as he flew towards her, picking up her tiny body by the throat with his huge arms. His hair was askew and he did not look like the kind man of reason and support that he had seemed only hours ago, in an fit of rage he thrust his hand down and grabbed a large spear, he stopped to grin and thrust the spear into Rhiannons chest twisting it with his arm until it impaled her into the wall. Rhiannon hung there gasping for breath blood running down the walls. The immense pain she felt was immeasurable and everything began to darken, slowly, surely but painfully. Her life began to slip from her as her hands grasped the spear that had penetrated her body. Duruk laughed, he had wanted Rhiannon for other purposes but everything was falling apart as quickly as it had begun, Duruks eyes began to glow an evil turquoise and a greenly venomous smoke began to climb from his mouth, it rose slowly and flowed into Rhiannons eyes. Rhiannon looked up and the pain began to ease. The smoke dissapeared and Rhiannon felt herself restored to feeling even stronger than before, however the spear still kept her pinned to the wall.

"You are now binded to me Rhiannon. Our fates the same, the only reason you survive is because of the Life Bond i have inflicted upon you. I die, you die and vice versa. I'm sorry I have to do this but our interests are the same, I'm sure you will see this soon. Your King had been toying with the idea of allowing Guilds but I have forseen what will come of it and I must try to stop it! I will stop it!"

"Well you have a funny way of showing that you want to help us. I would rather die than see you walk"

A bang erpted at the door and some of the Krytan Guild soldiers burst in with theirs swords raised high. One charged at Duruk who replied with a burst of swings from his sword. Together they clashed and mix of reflecting light, colliding metal and flinging fists. The soldier looked up and saw the monk pinned to the wall and hesitated for a moment. Duruk grabbed the initiative and struck the man down. Duruk informed the others of the bond he and the monk now shared causing the other soldiers to flounder. Some tough decisions would have to made. However meanwhile some of the heroes were waking on the floor and outside the battle still raged although more in the favour of Ascalon and the guilds.

Brother Doug · Feb 18, 2006, 02:03 AM // 02:03

(OOC: Hmm. What's happened to the rest of our merry gang? Anyway, on with the story!)

The spirit charged into battle, claws outstretched. It swiped at a large group of Grawl, blinding one of them. Its sword swung about wildly, decapitating one of its allies. The others in the group ran away from their mad companion and the bloody Grawl head. The spirit winced and moved onward.
At that moment, the spirit felt a small twinge. Something had happened to Relius. The spirit’s eyes darkened, and then lit up again, with a mischievous look. With the Binder away, he couldn’t order the spirit. Since the binding chains were never placed onto the Unbound One, it could do as it pleased and kill who it wanted, aside from Relius himself.

And it knew exactly whom it wanted to kill.

A malicious grin on its face, it headed away from the battle, where he had last seen the ranger and his lupine friend. Relius would be displeased, he knew, but the spirit thought the mountainfolk’s demise would be for the best…

Relius awoke with a start, to the sounds of battle. From the looks of it, he had been taken to the base of the Shiverpeak Valley, just outside of Foible’s Fair. The Grawl had knocked him out, probably for use in one of their strange rituals. The sound of swords clashing followed by a splash of cold water on the ritualist’s face woke him up with a start. The few Ascalonians remaining at the Fair were engaging the Grawl in battle. There were around ten of the Grawl, and only six or so Ascalonians. Relius got up quickly, getting the blood circulating through his body. Raising his staff above his shoulder, he smacked the nearest Grawl in the groin, causing it to double over in pain. Channeling his mystic powers into the staff, Relius shot out a string of energy spheres at the Grawl attackers. Five of the Grawl dropped to the ground, knocked out from the blasts. Relius knew this attack paired with the summoning of the Spirit of Light had taken a chunk out of his powers; he would have to rest again before he would be back at full strength.
One of the Ascalonian refugees wildly shot an arrow. It missed its original target completely, but was able to strike another unlucky Grawl in the throat. The arrow didn’t go through, but it had done its damage.
Many of the Ascalonions had teamed up on the remaining Grawl. They seemed to have things under control; the battle here would soon be over. Out of the corner of his eye, Relius saw one of the Grawl shamans dash towards a small child. He had seen this child practicing with the mountainfolk before he had gone to bed, and felt a need to save him. The mountainfolk and the others probably had enough trouble at the Fort, and Relius knew he had to protect all the people he could. Enough men and women had been slain in the Cayven massacre.
This child would not join the dead.
Relius rushed toward Gawin and the shaman, tackling the Grawl. The shaman bit at him with its yellowed teeth, its horrible breath blowing in his face. Relius poured his remaining strength into one final blast, which hit the Grawl shaman between the eyes. The boy quickly thanked the ritualist before running back to the safety of Foible’s Fair. Leaving the Ascalonians to finish off the rest of the now retreating Grawl, Relius looked at the staff the shaman was carrying. It was a very interesting staff, like none he had seen before. Scrutinizing the weapon, Relius determined it to be some sort of scepter. Judging from the sapphire fastened to the top of it, it was a relatively powerful one. Relius bent down and picked up the staff. He was able to See a small otherworldly aura coming from it, one he hadn’t seen before. He decided to keep the scepter with him for the time being. But for now, he had to rest. Although he was not quite ready to rejoin the fight, he prayed to Dwayna and Balthazar for the safety of the other heroes at the Fort.

Rilder · Feb 18, 2006, 08:26 AM // 08:26

Zarda woke up on the outside wall and immediately felt immense pain in his left arm, he had remembered it breaking but that was the last thing he remembered, as he began to examine himself he noticed huge amounts of bruises and slashes, down further he saw his axe laying in several pieces, the head, haft and grip were all laying in different spots. “What happened” he whispered to himself.” but it was obvious what had happened, when he was a child he had over heard his father talking to one of his army friends about the time in past battle how he had entered some sort of state of rage and the last thing he remembered was being carted on a stretcher to the monks.

As he collected himself, the battle was finally dieing down, there was still some fighting but it had died down, he didn’t know which side had won yet, he hoped that it wasn’t the Grawl because as soon as he rounded the corner into the main area he would be dead, but as he dragged his body around the corner he saw nothing of this sort, it was the Krytan Guild Lords; he knew some of the members of the guild including the Guild Leader, but they seemed too warlike for his tastes and hadn’t joined them when the offer was given. As he came into the open some monks ran over to him and began chanting various spells and soon the pain in his body grew off and he began to walk normally, thanking them for the help and asking were there general was he began walking towards several men on fine steeds towards a hill looking over the fort.

“You came just in time.” Stated Zarda taking a place next to the head horse.
“Hello Zarda, I see you’ve been fighting, considering the farmer you were when I last saw you”
“I was drafted into the levy, Luca, everyone in Cayven is gone”
“I know Zarda, I’m sorry about losing your family but we have more important things to discuss”
“What is it Luca? Is something happening in Kryta?”
“No, more like Tyria entirely, tensions are building in the guilds, land rights, city rights, all kinds of stuff, back in Kryta there is simply no were to go, every guild wants more land and there’s none left to expand; we were the top guild in Kryta; holding Lions Arch and almost a quarter of Kryta, but then several of the smaller guilds banded together, and took it all; we were forced over the ShiverPeaks, and several messengers stated that Ascalon was in trouble so I figured If we save Ascalon we might be able to get land rights here.”

Lucas speech was broken when a horn sounded, the sound of Ascalon’s King approaching.

Ristaron · Feb 18, 2006, 11:08 PM // 23:08

The Grawl persuers had broken off when the calvary arrived, but Morgan didn't stop. Her search would not end until she had found the man who had raised her.
If the wolf had known her own frustration, she would have sought to relieve some of her anger before continuing, but she continued to try to smell out her master through the stench of blood. There were bodies everywhere, men and Grawl alike. It was like a needle in a haystack to find her master.
An hour passed and she wimpered, hoping that he would hear her and give some sign of his location.
Minutes turned to hours, and the area the enormous beast had covered was larger than Ristaron could have gone even if he had flown. But she continued desperately, determined to find him. The sun was setting in a brilliant golden display over the white-tipped Shiverpeak mountains when Morgan at last lay the rapier down gently, sat down on the damp grass, and lifted her head to howl.

Somewhere, in another place entirely, the ranger opened his midnight eyes.

Mentalmdc · Feb 19, 2006, 12:12 PM // 12:12

Rhiannon had a look of distress upon her sullen face, she still hung uncomfortably from the spear on the wall, still the pulsating magic of the unbreakable life bond running through her veins. Duruk still stood arogantly silently formulating a plan in his mind. The Krytan warriors encircled their prey in the full knowledge that at long last the Grawl Invaision had been defeated at the great battle of Fort Ranik, songs and poems would sung about the event for generations to come.

Duruk paced around the circle of Krytan warriors, every now and again a brave soul would charge at Duruk but unfortunately Duruk was a master of the art of sparring and disarmed his foe instantly. Duruk stopped for a moment and laughed evilly.

"We shall meet again, you have foiled my plans this time but I will be back, stronger than before."

Duruk swung his sword round and rolled forward, he knocked one of the men aside and charged out the oaken doors into the rubble of the courtyard.

"Don't fire! If he dies the monk dies, catch him quickly but alive!"

Men ran after Duruk but he was too fast and unable to fire their weopons they were rendered useless. Duruk lept up and took command of a horse, speeding out of the Fort men ran chasing in hot pursuit. The Guild Lords swung round cutting the conversation with the levie short and chased in hot pursuit. Through twisting valleys, dense forests and winding roads they chased.

Rhiannon was given a hand down and some of the monks assisted in removing the spear. Rhiannon still kept alive by the bond had gone a pale colour. With the aide of a walking stick she slowly stumbled out into the courtyard to survey what the aftereffects of the attack would be. She set out on her own horse that was granted to her hoping to join the chase after Duruk.

Meanwhile Duruk had arrived at the Grand Docks of Ascalon where he was hoping he could hitch aboard a boat and sail to a new world where he might be able to reassemble some new troops. It was dark and Duruk snuck through the empty steets. His pursuers had seemingly lost him for now. Duruk stalked through an alleyway and up a ladder hoping to see if any ships were in the bay. It was no good. Duruk ran up to the cliff face which looked out over the bay. On his belly he scrambled to the edge. Some stones plummeted into the raging ocean. Duruk spun round and stared down the very edge of a sword. Rhiannon found it amazing how quickly her opinion of the man changed, a valuable friend, a fearsome foe and now a squirming fool.

"Remember Rhiannon the bond we share!" An evil look enter his eyes once again, "Come on, surely you wouldn't sacrafice yourself, not even for, the one you love."

Rhiannon thrust the sword closer to his throat.

"Even now a lone spirit hunts after him! He will be dead within hours and nothing will be left for you to return to, but I can make something of this disaster! Join with me!"

Duruk extended his hand but Rhiannon swiftly brought down her sword severing from her foe. Both figures of the clifftop cried out in pain, Rhiannon felt an immense pain in her wrist, so bad that she dropped her sword enabling Duruk to over power her and fling her to the ground. Duruk had white froth spewing from his lips with hair askew.

He hissed, "Very well! Then I will make your suffering all the more worse!"

Ristaron · Feb 20, 2006, 04:31 AM // 04:31

Before him were the tallest gates the ranger had ever seen. His midnight eyes roamed along their pure gold frame, eventually settling the translucent being standing at their base.
The ranger had heard of this place in myths and tales, but the man's limited faith in higher existence had led him to dismiss it as yet another story of the afterlife.
Yet, here it was. The Hall of Heroes.

Before he knew what was happening, he had started for the entrance. His eager feet carrying him like they knew that beneath his doubt lay sincere hope.
As he came closer and closer, the ranger reached out with a gloved hand, desperate to feel his destiny. His elation filled him as every step took him nearer to his goal.
Suddenly, he stopped. It had struck him at last. The disturbing truth of his situation. He wasn't eager to feel his destiny... but to feel. He looked down at his hands, expecting to find them twisted or warped. They seemed completely normal.
Looking back up, the ranger's heart dropped to find the image of the great and glorious Hall gone, replaced with an dark infinity.

"A shame, isn't it?"
The ranger whirled around to face a giant Grawl, his tattooed gray fur hanging damp. Memories rushed back to the ranger then, and he recalled the moist, blood-stenched air he had been in minutes before. He recalled the seemingly endless battle. He recalled so much loss among the innocent.
He recalled charging into a line of Grawl.
He remembered being dragged down through ethereal planes, though fire and water, through light and dark, guided by the grasping, incorporeal hand of a Shaman he had run through with his rapier.
"My body was dying", the Grawl shaman went on, his foreign language meaning nothing here in the mists, where everything was connected and comprehended. "But I was not about to have a pitiful mountainfolk defeat me!"
The beast's roar sent Ristaron into a defensive crouch, and he brought his hands before him. He barely noticed that the weapons he had lost before were replaced his his grip as he cleared his mind of the relentless questions about his wherabouts and his destiny and set himself for a doubtlessly mortal combat with a powerful enemy.

ryek09 · Feb 24, 2006, 01:03 AM // 01:03

i love this guys this is fun to watch all the post
Free bumb =
p

Ristaron · Feb 24, 2006, 07:45 PM // 19:45

Yeah no kidding, someone post!

Goats17 · Feb 27, 2006, 10:19 PM // 22:19

I would love to join, but you have a full party, so I will do the only thing I can:
Bump

Brother Doug · Feb 28, 2006, 08:55 PM // 20:55

(OOC: I have answered the long-awaited call of the Bump!)

Relius looked over the scepter with care, running his fingers through the etchings in the staff. It was carved with spirals and other wild designs, and it shone of a precious metal, like an eerie crystal. Relius’ hand briefly touched the sapphire wedged into the top of the staff and felt strangely lightheaded. A rejuvenating power surged through him, and his fatigue from the previous battle slowly began to fade. ‘Yes,’ the Ritualist thought, ‘this is a powerful item. I believe it was more that good fortune that I was able to find it.’ Relius stood up, grasping the scepter in his left hand. Feeling full of vigor, he ran off towards the Fort, the remaining Ascalonians wishing him good luck.

The spirit was becoming irritated. He had searched the entire outer Fort and had found nothing of the mountainfolk, nor his pet. Fortunately for the Unbound One, it could never truly tire from a simple task such as walking. Stopping in the courtyard for a moment to think, the spirit heard the sounds of a scuffle. It turned its head around to briefly see a figure run past, followed by another person; the female monk from Cayven. But it wasn’t the monk that had surprised the spirit. No, it was the first figure that gave him such a shock.
“It can’t possibly have been…I could have sworn I just saw him…Duruk?”

The spirit had little time to process this thought, when a voice filled his head. “This is not the time to be thinking of…acquaintances. You must go and destroy the mountainfolk! If you don’t, everything will be ruined!”
“Yes…yes, the mountainfolk. That is who I am truly after,” the spirit said to nobody in particular. “The mountainfolk. I must destroy the mountainfolk.” The spirit wasn’t sure just what would be ruined if it couldn’t kill Ristaron, it just knew that was its task.
“But I’ve looked everywhere that a living man could reach during a small time. Unless-” the spirit’s eyes suddenly lit up again.

“Unless he is no longer among the mortal world…”

The spirit knew it was a risky choice, for Relius could call it to his aid when it was in the Mists. However, as this was the only place where the ranger could have gone in such a short time, it was a risk the Unbound One had to make. The spirit began to spin around in place, faster and faster, until it had dissolved into a column of mist. After a few moments, the mist had also faded away.

The hunt was on.

Mentalmdc · Mar 02, 2006, 05:11 PM // 17:11

Rhiannon kicked up screaming; Duruk momentarily lost his balance and fell to the floor as Rhiannon rolled over once again brandishing the curved blade. She thrust it to Duruks throat whilst finding herself nearly unable to cope with the pain in her wrist.

"Why? Why plunge Ascalon into so much ruin?"

Duruk let out a shrill laugh.

"You think I would do this for personal gain? Why if I was going to do that I wouldn't have used petty dumb minded beasts such as theses Grawls to do it. No, they are already defeated but their purpose it done. Oh no, there is something greater at work here, I myself just a pawn. My army was a mere distraction, now the spirit and one of the last mountainfolk are brought together and the fate of the world will lie in balance. You yourself are a key part in this, unless you can stop the two meeting and releasing a greater evil then for many many years an endless 'darkness' will consume Ascalon before ending in its final doom!"

Rhiannon stared at the man she once knew as a friend. So much had been lost and large areas of Ascalon stilled burned. A mere distraction? Even if the spirit and Ristaron were due to be brought together there was even more at work. Something would be released? Rhiannon thought deeply before avenging her fallen friends. Duruks limp body plummeted through the air shattering on the rocks below, Rhiannon had felt no remores when she threw him over the jagged cliff edge.

Rhiannon raced back to the Fort but could not find any face she recognised, only those of a few Krytan soldiers. As she glanced round the corner she saw the King of Ascalon talking with the Guild Leader before they shook hands. The shake was evidence itself, Ascalon needed money to rebuild and men to protect it, the Act of Allowance of Guilds was signed that very day, it later became apparent to Rhiannon that this was just one event in a long line of triggers caused from the Grawl Invaision. The Guilds gained land in Ascalon which later caused a 70 year long war of the Guilds distracting the Northern Nations from the Char threat in the wildlands. The Char invaded which then also triggered the path of Rhiannons Grandchild who journey on a long campaign to fufill a prophecy.

However meanwhile other matters had still to be resolved.

Ristaron · Mar 03, 2006, 12:05 AM // 00:05

The Grawl howled as one of Ristaron's rapier bit into its thick hide once again. In the short fight so far, the cruel weapons had pierced bone and artery. It was only a matter of time, the Shaman knew.

But Ristaron's latest riposte had cost him, painful scratches across his shoulder now ached much like the ones another of the Grawl's kin had inflicted the day before on the agile mountainfolk.
Not that days mattered in the mist.

Evading another swing from the creature's heavy rod, Ristaron turned with his momentum, dragging his sharp rapier along behind him. The blade cut along several tendons in the thick leg of his enemy, drawing more dark blood.
Roaring in rage, the Grawl delivered a powerful backhand lateral attack. Ristaron got one rapier up in time, but he knew it would not stop the attack, as he had only managed to raise it high enough that the tip of the weapon was in the Grawl's rod's path. Knocking in the blocking weapon, the rod came fast for the ranger's head.
But Ristaron's second rapier came along in front of his head from the side, point aimed perfectly towards the shaman's arm. Unable to reverse the tremendous momentum he had built up, the Grawl watched as the rapier punctured his furry wrist all the way through. Barely, he managed to keep his hold on his own weapon enough that it was still going strong for its mark.
Without enough time to duck or move out of the way, the ranger desperately lifted his shoulder to block the attack.
The rod connected with a freeze so cold it burned the ebony skin, and enough force to dislocate Ristaron's shoulder.
In agony, they both fell back, landing hard on the indistinguishable floor they fought upon.

Panting, Ristaron lay still for a few moments. His shoulder had suffered this fight and he wasn't sure if he could keep using it. His unguents were deep in his coat, and there was no way he could get to them in time. Midnight eyes blazing, the ferocious fighter clenched his jaw and raised himself through determination alone. He watched with a smile as the Shaman finished drawing the ranger's second rapier from his wrist, face twisted in pain.
One arm limp at his side, Ristaron raised his other rapier before him. Despite his pain and hate for his enemy, the mountainfolk kept his mischevous grin. He was a creature of combat, this was what he lived for.

Mentalmdc · Mar 03, 2006, 05:51 PM // 17:51

Dramatic music sounded throughout the fort as weary children crawled from their hiding places, the beating of drum boomed throughout the walls of the Fort as a shrill note was played from an ivory cast horn. The sun crashed into the horizon sending beams of bright orange and glowing yellows through the evening sky. Men and women stood in the streets looking up as the banner of Ascalon was lowered from the flagstand, an emotional site many were drawn to tears as the king looked solemnly upon his people. Instead the emerald green flag with an embroided Lion was raised up, the flag of the Krytan Lions Guild. The Fort had been given to these Krytans, a choice the King had been forced to make, the King looked weary, his nation nearly torn apart only hours a go and now by the morning hundreds of men would be signing up to Guilds and demanding land.

Soldiers of the Krytan order marched with blank expressions on their face in strict formation into the open courtyard before separating and standing at the stoutest of all attentions lining the square. Rhiannon stumbled in a pale deadly white, crimson red blood streaming from her eyes, she crashed to the ground in a heap and faded out. A women let out a sharp cry as men rushed to Rhiannons aide, one approached from the crowd realising what was wrong, with Duruk dead the Life Bond was broken, Rhiannon was dying. There was not long, she would not survive. Something had to be done and only one thing could save a person from a life bond, a divine intervention that would take her into the mists, but there was no way of carrying this out! It was beginning to look hopeless.

Ristaron · Mar 04, 2006, 12:22 AM // 00:22

Ristaron's back cracked with the quick motion of throwing his hips to the side to narrowly avoid another thrust from the heavy rod.
Haven't moved that way in a while, he mused to himself. Ducking a second attempt, the ranger kept his remaining rapier where he had been. The sharp edge cut through a long red line along the Grawl's mighty arm.
But the Shaman was beyond pain now, in a state of pure rage. Similar cuts to the one the beast had just recieved were all over his body, letting flow the precious red fluid that was his blood. Completely overtaken by the berserk mentality, he continued dangerously, giving many openings to the adept ranger he so violently persued.
Each one Ristaron used to his advantage.

Seconds turned to minutes, and though both combatants were in terrible pain, they had settled into a rhythm. This deadly dance continued as they each neared the point of total exhaustion, neither submitting, neither surrendering.
Sweat stung midnight eyes, but they held their fiery glare, locked with the glazed stare from the dying Shaman.
And then, it was over. The Grawl stepped too far, and the weight of the rod toppled his weak frame. He fell forward onto Ristaron's rapier, aimed true for the beast's heart.

Backing away from the lifeless corpse of the immense Shaman, the ranger managed several steps before collapsing on his knees, panting like a dog. Slowly rolling off his joints, Ristaron allowed his body to fall just a little further, landing good-shoulder-first on the indistinguishable floor before sprawling wide, victorious.
The ranger's mind soared with the incorporeal mists all around him.

Meanwhile, somewhere nearby amid the endless fog, a new entity to the area arrived.

Mentalmdc · Mar 04, 2006, 05:42 PM // 17:42

Life was fading for Rhiannon and everyone was beginning to lose hope, none of Rhiannons friends from earlier were around to hope, some feared dead as they had been absent for some time. Dark clouds began to swarm in a fierce streak or lightning burnt the ground, a loud rumble pounded through the fort as drops of heavy rain fell heavily to the ground turning the soft soil into slippy mud. People ran for cover inside as the storm raged worse and worse, people left the soaking young body of the monk to the storm as her once pure white robes were sloshed about with mud and dried blood. The wind howled and doors creaked as flags wavered in the air. Lightning repeatedly hit the ground until all at once a blinding flash of light burst through the sky, the wind picked up and Rhiannon was slowly raised up into the sky, carried as if on the wings of a dove slowly ever closer to the light, however she was not going to a physical place where humans can travel, only by the will of the Gods can someone transend to the mists. The wounds of Rhiannon began to heal as a cold swarm of dense clouds began to wrap round her body before gently laying her down on the elegant marble steps leading up to the golden gates of the Kingdom of the Gods. Angelic music filled Rhiannons ears as she awoke to see a figure dressed into golden lined pure white robes, it was a figure Rhiannon recognised, a figure that startled her immediately, the figure who had a certain hige presence about themself was in fact Rhiannon herself. Minutes passed as both silently looked each other in the eyes.

Ristaron · Mar 04, 2006, 07:11 PM // 19:11

Still in more pain than comfort in his sprawled position, the ranger lifted an arm that felt very light, and began rummaging through the pockets on the inside of his cloak. His gloved hand emerged a moment later with a delicate vial filled with viscous contents. Scrutinizing the amount he had, Ristaron knew treating his wounds would use up the rest of the salve. Setting it down beside him for a moment, the ranger turned over to lay flat on his stomach, and slowly put more and more weight onto his bad shoulder. He was about to give up for a few minutes when it snapped painfully back into place.
Gasping for breath, Ristaron took off his cloak and tunic and examined his wounds more closely. The gashes on his shoulder were bloody and brutal, and the ebonny skin was slightly bluish with the dislocation injury he had just fixed. There was also a burn pattern where the Shaman's rod had struck him.
Taking the rest of the contents of the vial, he spread the unguent over his shoulder. The viscous liquid was potent, so he spread it with little heed of not applying enough.
As he sat, he pondered how he may return to Tyria. A shaman's magic had brought him to the mists, but he wasn't dead, or dying. He considered searching for the Hall of Heroes once again, but the fact that the mists connected everything struck him with the logic that it was therefore infinite, and that a search like that may take up even his acceptional life span. As he continued to run through possibilities, his hope continued to sink as his unguents continued to rejuvenate him. He almost resented having healed himself.
But warrior instinct kicked in and the survivor mentality within Ristaron awoke. The same mentality that had taken him through the South Shiverpeaks alone for a decade before he arrived in Ascalon. The same mentality that had allowed him to live through things few other mortal men may boast. Stubborn to the extreme, Ristaron refused to resign himself to a meaningless life.
So, on unsteady legs, he got up and began walking.

Rilder · Mar 06, 2006, 04:22 PM // 16:22

Zarda sighed, he had watched the king give away have of Ascalon, and he pondered why, probably threats and what not... but now he had more important work to do, and headed toward the fort to help with repairs when he had seen the disturbance.... the young monk he had seen before, had floated into the air and off into what he thought was the mists... and he immediately kneeled before the light going on and the storm clouds, but before he got up flames shot out of the ground before him, only visible to his eyes, before him a ghostly figure appeared before him in light tealish see through armor.

Zarda stood up and looked the figure in the eyes, for moments they seemed to speak via the mind, but they were both warriors, they needed no words. The warrior before him was a champion of Balthazar. Suddenly the ghostly voice boomed in his ears, "Zarda, you have done well; Balthazar has looked favorably upon your soul, he gifts you with this sword, and trusts that you wield it well," The ghostly figure drew a black sword, it wasn't short as a short sword, but wasn't as long as a long sword, allowing for quick stabbing motions and heavy close combat fighting. Carefully Zarda took the sword and weighed it in his hands, it was heavy, but not to heavy. “Zarda,” the spirit spoke up, “You must find your friends.”

“I will, “ and with that he ran off… the spirit behind him fading.

Mentalmdc · Mar 06, 2006, 05:12 PM // 17:12

The mysterious mist slithered around Rhiannons dainty ankles as the pair seemingly floated on a bed of unending clouds. Rhiannon looked up at her identical, there was but one difference, only by looking into the eyes of the new version could you see a deeper and more intense look in her eyes.

"I am Dwayna, I am you," spoke the second Rhiannon, "The gods have left Tyria and will no longer interefere in the matters of these mortal men, however I can not stand to see the nations I hold dear to my heart in so much turmoil, so i created a mortal version of myself, you. As you may have noticed you learn quickly and it is why you managed to overpower the Zaishen leader when they visited you on your island. Your whole life has been planned up to this moment. A great evil is about to be awakened and you must stop it. All the Gods are doing their part to try to stop it but, Grenth is being somewhat difficult. The necrid God has caused turmoil using his followers and now war is bound to break out in Tyria. However the true conflict will be decided here in the mists."

Rhiannon paced around the endless floor looking up at the entity. It was an awful lot to take in, a certain shock to her system yet somehow she could believe. Yet in her heart she knew she was still only mortal, maybe a little extra resilience to normal but still nonetheless herself.

"What about my friend, the mountainfolk?"

"He has done great wrong in these mists, although he may have been unable to help it he has slain a being on holy ground, for this crime he must suffer and bare the eternal curse that he shall be the last of his kind, he may try to redeem himself but unless you stop him he may unleash the evil we talk about. All of you and your friends are connected, you may not realise but the future is held in your commitment to one another. Hold together and peace will prevail, fall apart and Tyria will crumble. That is why it is a matter of the utmost importance you prevent the spirit from killing Ristaron."

Rhiannon looked into the neverending distance. The couple walked slowly forward before the mist parted and Rhiannon found herself at the bottom of a pure golden staircase leading upwards beyond the mist. As she ascended the mist became less dense and grass began to appear until Rhiannon found herself standing in a whole new world. Rhiannon glanced round and saw Ristaron walking ahead, calling out she ran after him but upon reaching him discovered that Dwayna had once more disappeared.

Rhiannon embraced Ristaron with a hug and kissed the mountainfolk unexpectedly on the cheek causing a slight awkward moment of silence between the pair. Rhiannon was so pleased to see Ristaron safe and sound yet the task of finding out what evil awaited them in the endless mists still loomed ahead. Rhiannon looked down at er clothes to discover her rags and wounds gone, replaced by gleaming new robes that made her look more godly, the same with Ristaron. A booming thunder rolled in the hills in the distance and the serene scene broke down rapidly as dark clouds swarmed in, the wind picked up and seemingly blew the green grass away until the ground turned to hard cold stone concrete, the sky becomnig so dark it was near impossible to see.