The Last War — Legacy Forums — Strolen's Citadel

Re: The Last War

#561

OCC: Thanks. And I really liked your bit about entering Kethal's sacred circle.

Um, Nobody, could you maybe post, you know, a picture of this, um, new character? She sounds like she has loads of, well, personality...

IC:
Grumple, too, had loads of personality. He was just, shall we say, "not at his personal best".

Covered with putrid, rotting bits of gore, Grumple stood unsteadily on one leg, sucking his bleeding hand, rubbing his aching head, and alternately his blurry eyes. He rubbed his butt too, which itched, when he felt a broken arrow sticking out. Probably from yesterday. Wincing, Grumple pulled the arrow out and threw it away, then rubbed that wound as well. This threw him off balance and he sat down suddenly with an unhappy "grunt". Good thing Hol-lee was capable of dealing with her own attacker.

Grumple's belly took that moment to indicate its unhappiness as well. In no uncertain terms, the churning belly reminded Grumple that there had been quite a lot of really unfair demands placed on it lately to keep up with the rate of healing. And that it had been quite a while since the last meal, and that it was feeling quite unappreciated indeed. And that if Grumple's belly wasn't happy then Grumple wasn't going to be happy, either. So there.

Dawn was coming. Last night's downpour had washed away most of the blood and carnage of the town's defenders. Maybe a new day would bring something good to Grumple. Like maybe a nice herd of goats.

-------------

Carl Kraggis slept, exhausted, in the manor house, his hand still gripping The Tooth. (However, he had had the good sense to wrap up the spear head in a heavy piece of leather, just in case he rolled over too fast).

It comforted him. He dreamed of hunting down that hideous troll, and stabbing it again and again. Maybe in the new day that was coming his dream would come true.

Re: The Last War

#562

Holly picked up her sword and swang for the undead. The blade hit with tremendous force against the creatures arm severing the tendants but no blood came out nothing. The Creature staggered backwards but was upright in moments. The undead flew towards Holly. she raised her sword and let it drop vertically down to the ex-mans neck. A wet splat was heard and the head rolled to the floor. "No time to sit down grumple we have to get out of here" Holly ran towards a high wall with foot and hands holes so that you could climb it easily. Holly placed her foot in the first groove and hoisted herself up climbing with ease. She moved upwards like a spider on the roof of a house. She had just got to the top of the wall when she looked down over the city "Grumple come on" she called down. Holly turned quickly and jumped down from the wall onto the soft grass outside. The cool breeze whipped her hair about her face. Her cheeks turned gradually red as the breeze began to get chilly. Then she heard it the eerie chilling music which she had not been paying attention to untill now. Holly walked forward into the woods looking behind her to see if Grumple was following. Without noticing where she was walking she began to fall. She let out a piercing scream which ran around the whole entire forest filling the breeze with her pain. She landed with a thump 3 feet down in a dirty ditch. Where had it come from? why was it here? and who made it? these questions where the only thing that filled her head as she sat cradling her broken arm. Holly tried to stand up slowly but fell down as her leg collapsed beneath her. Holly swore as she looked at the huge rip in her leg and the bone sticking out. Today was not going well.

Re: The Last War

#563

"Grumple, come on" beckoned the voice from the top of the wall in the darkness. But Grumple was tired, really tired. The troll got up, hopped a bit on the good leg, then tested the bad leg again. Still bad. Needed some sleep. Some food wouldn't hurt, either. (Never did... although there was that time with swallowing that den of poisonous vipers. The snakes weren't so bad, but the DEN had a few too many rocks in it...)

Grumple grunted and clambered up the wall, then heard Hol-lee scream. He dropped to the ground as best as he could on his good leg, fell, got up, and hopped over to Hol-lee. He could hear her breathing heavily down below him. He climbed down there and gently touched the broken bones.

Dr. Grumple's ideas of first aid were probably not the best medicine for a human. He had learned that a long time ago. Lots of green lily-jumpers and bed rest (no bed necessary) worked for him. Not for others.

Grumple knew her scream would attract attention. In the middle of a war, screams always attracted the wrong kind of attention.

This was hard. Stay and protect Hol-lee with his broken leg? Try to get help? From where? Carry her away with a broken leg? To where? That was one broken leg on Grumple and one broken leg on Hol-lee... count... uhhh... Two! Two was more bad than one. Probably.

He tried to ask Hol-lee what she wanted. She was the brains of this outfit.

This was harder. Too many Common words...

"Hol-lee. Grumple... help? What do?"

Grumple's head hurt. Maybe best to try to find her some frogs.

Re: The Last War

#564

Kethal kneeled down to the ground, and cleared away a space. With her finger she started making marks in the soft dirt.

"This is where we are, this is Halbad, and this is where the Necromancer was when I last checked."

"As I said, When we arrive, she will be well gaurded. Her personal escort consists of about sixteen. Ten of them are the creatures that she has unleashed upon the city of Halbad, but there are four of them that have glowing red eyes. They are more dangerous. I have seen them move myself. There are also another two who appear to be human. I do not think that they are actually human though. There is something...wrong about them. Anyway, these sixteen are always with her."

"There is no chance, I think, that we can defeat all of them, but the necromancer seems particularily frail. I think, perhaps, that our best plan is to try and bypass the others, and quickly kill the necromancer. Unfortunately, I have no weapons of my own, and am particularily unsuited to defeating this evil, or I would have done so already."

"I can offer protection, as well as some spell support, but I think that it will eventually be up to your companion Baldwin to make the strike against the Necromancer himself. He will probably be gaurded against magical spells. Once done, I can teleport us out of there, but only to here. It is an area ability, so there is a chance that some of the dead will come back with us, but the Sacred grove will purge the evil from them, so it should not matter."

Re: The Last War

#565

"Guard! Up there on the wall! Where did that woman's scream come from?" Corporal Griswold yelled.

"Sargeant! Sorry, I mean, Corporal!" Private Thatcher yelled back, "From outside, about 100 yards that way!" He waved a torch in that direction.

"Keep watch! I'll get a squad together to investigate." Corporal Griswold responded. "Bring up some scaling ladders!" He walked down the line of about 20 sleeping men, nudging each one awake with his boot, adjusting the force of the kicks to match the degree of hangover each man exhibited. "Get up! To arms! Axes! Full armour! Shields! We're going over the wall at first daylight! Recon patrol!"

Various grumbles and curses were heard from the awakening forms.

"MOVE IT you lazy dogs or I'll set fire to your #$@@&* blankets!"

Re: The Last War

#566

"Fortune favors the bold." Rory said softly, stroking the white stubble on his chin as he took in Kethal's words. "I can get us to the necromancer." With the magik in the grove being as strong as it was it would be easy for him to cast the spell he had when they escaped Kraggis' men in the woods with the refugees.

He arranged the remains of his oversized cloak about him as he sat with his legs crossed. His eyes were somewhere between open and closed. He fell into himself and the lines of magik about the clearing, invisible to those without the natural affinity for magik wilders possesed, came into sharp focus. The protective weave was magnificent. He immediately understood why evil had no chance to enter this grove. He hummed from deep within taking the breath interweving it with the flow as it came from his mouth. He used the surrounding pattern to amplify what he was doing. He had never tried it before within the confines of a magikal construct such as the sacred grove and at first, he feared the magik of this place would cancel what he was doing. However he quickly found the the grove, almost as if it dectected why he was doing what he was doing, acted to amplify his efforts. The group felt a sensation like pinpricks running across their bodies as the spell took effect, an unpleasant sensation felt both outside and inside, but fortunately brief. Rory stood and scratched a circle in the soft dirt around the group, mentally tying off the flow.

"It will seem like a longer walk than it actually is" He said, throwing Kethal a wink. "Stay close."

The group began to walk in the direction Kethal had indicated. Their emergence from the sacred grove was heralded by the flaming glow of Final Judgment exploding from the sword. Five of the undead stood less than ten spans away. Their leering contenances were frozen as they stood as still as statues. Armor was split and rent by mortal blows hanging from bodies guant from the effects of their death and ghastly transformation. Baleful malevolence shone from dull eyes that once sparkled with the vitality of life. Rory walked off the path motioning for the others to follow giving the creatures a wide berth.

"If you look closely," he explained to Kethal, "You can see them moving." Looking at the creatures closely one could see that arms and legs were moving slightly, almost imperceptibly. "That we can even see that means they're moving fast in real time. In the area of this spell we are outside of the flow. Some like to think of it as time slowing down but I prefer to think of it as us moving fast. It doesn't matter. Those book mages can argue about it all day. If I get too close to them though. I'll bring them in to the spell." He grinned looking at the undead who were oblivious to the groups passing. "Lead the way to your necromancer. I'll stay close to you. Although it will seem as if it's taking us however long it takes us to walk. We will actually get there in the blink of an eye." ...

Re: The Last War

#567

As the first light of dawn just glinted in the sky to the east, the men went over the wall of Halbad. The scaling ladders touched the ground and a dozen men dropped their shields onto the ground and climbed down into the nearly-total darkness. They formed up in a protective semicircle with shield and axe, as "Corporal" Griswold and Corporal Henderson touched down behind them.

"Now listen up!" Griswold whispered loudly at them. "I know you little girly-girls are afraid that 'evil spirits' are going to take over your officers and tell you to commit suicide. Well, Corporal Henderson here will verify my orders, and then you'll know he thinks I'm completely sane. Right, Henderson?!"

"Right, Sarg... I mean Corporal Griswold" Henderson agreed.

"Let's go! We're looking for a woman who screamed. Find any of those zombies and it's close-up formation, three on one, hack their heads off, and keep moving, like we drilled last night" Griswold ordered. The men took off in a class C spread-formation march with the two leaders in the middle.

In a quiet, but gruff voice to Henderson, Griswold hissed: "If you countermand any of my #$@@&* orders you best #>(+!$@ plan to kill me first. Got it?!" Henderson nodded and grunted. Better to fight a dozen undead than take on the Sarge.

Re: The Last War

#568

Holly splutered as mud fell from above. Grumple landed with what could be called a soft landing just with more of a bump at the end. "Grumple is that you" Holly said into the darkness. The next few words proved her right "Hol-lee. Grumple... help? What do?" Holly smiled and shiffted uncomfortably. The sun was beggining to rise and Holly could hear a distance voice shouting at something or someone. Holly looked up to the blue sky no cloud was showing but no bright morning sun either. Everything seemed dank and empty up above and down below. This day had started off bad and was going to end worse. "Grumple" Holly sighed moving her good leg to the right abit so that she could push herself more onto the wall. "Grumple you..." Holly's voice drifted away as she began to rise on her bad leg. She gave a sharp twitch and a large crack sounded in the enclosed space as the bone from her leg re-entered. "Grumple! do you see that?" Holly limped slowly to the wall of the cave and lifted her good leg onto a ledge at the bottom of the hole. She shiffted her weight up onto the ledge and held steady. With her good arm she began to drag herself up the wall looking for ledges and grooves to insert her foot. Holly had just started to climb when she heard a voice outside of the cave. Holly froze as the voice came closer and closer. "oh for goodness sake. Why does everyone have to leave me to die. Bloody creatures attacking me and then having to jump over a load of men with swords great fun today" Holly looked to the rim off the hole. The voice sounded familliar and sulky at the same time. "Hello, Hello what have we here then" a long furry nose was stuck into the hole. Holly gasped "Tigra?" she called up watching the nose carefully "Hold on a moment Holly i just have to get a long stick or something" The nose disappered and then reappered a few minuites later. something long was lowered into the ditch. Holly grabbed hold of it with her good arm and then told Grumple to grab hold of the end. Slowly but surely the stick was lifted up to the rim of the ditch. Holly's head appered over the top and she pulled herself up with her good arm. "Tigra am i pleased to see you" Holly called as she limped slowly over to hug her good friend. Holly wrapped her hands around the horses neck and cuddled. The horse whinnied "What were you doing down there anyway?" Holly moved away and looked at her with a most evil look "I wasn't down there on my own accord you know" Holly turned and pulled grumple by the hand out of the hole. "Tigra my dear friend we need your help" Tigra lowered down onto the front legs and swung her head to motion to get on. Holly smiled liffted her bad leg slowly over the horses back and pulled herself up with her good arm. Tigra whinnied happily and began running towards the way she had just come. Just as Tigra was running past grumple Holly leant over grabbed him up with her bad arm and threw him in front of her. She grimaced as pain shot through her arm right into her body making her shiver. they were off running through the forest with the wind in there faces.

Re: The Last War

#569

In the sacred grove they could not tell, but the music had stopped five minutes ago. When they reached the place that Kethal had described, they found the necromancer already dead, lying on the ground. It was a she, although, it was hard to tell. Se was utterly deformed. Her limbs were bowed, her joints were twisted, some of her ribs actually protruded outside of her body.

More disturbing however, slashed across her face and chest looked like severe acid burns. However she had died, it had been an excruciating death.

A well worn music box lay a foot to the side, upside down. It was unpainted dark brown wood. Good quality, but unremarkable aside from that.

Arthur immediately went to the dead necromancer. His magic was ready to go, but he had low expectations. After a minute of kneeling over her, he finally stood up, book in hand, and put it back in his mended carrying pack (Mended as of earlier).

Kethal on the other hand, grabbed the Music Box.

"So this was where that music came from. Baldwin, if you could carry this for now, I will find a safe place for it later. With the distance we have travelled, it will take some time for my companion to find me again. He carries my things for me."

OOC:
Three things. One, the undead are still alive and active, however, without Ambrosia to lead them, they are unorganized. Still deadly, but not organized. The zombies will also be averted, but not harmed by, the sunlight. They will try to stay in the shadows and alleys as much as possible (the Legion can expect many recruits in the meantime, as they are rightfully the saviors of Halbad). The Shadows have already taken their hosts. They will probably lay low for a bit.

Also, If you think that Ambrosia's Legacy is at an end, you had best think again. Just think about this as the eye of the storm, when you need to worry about the legion instead of the dead. No rest for the weary (cause if they got rest, then they wouldn't be weary).

Last, I have just started a new job, and with all of the other hassles I am facing right now, I will be a bit busy. I will try to keep posting at least once per day, But I might miss one every now and then. I apologize in advance.

-Nobody

Re: The Last War

#570

OOC: Good luck on the new job. When the hassles get to be too much we'll be here for you.

IC: Baldwin looked at the poffered music box, seeming to drink in the well worn wooden surfaces with his eyes. They lost focus momentarily, then focused on Kethal's face. She was beautiful, how could he not accept the box? He reached out still looking at the vision before him. He was annoyed when the red glow of the twin orbs appeared by her shoulder.

"WIN!!!" Rory's shout brought him quickly to his senses. The zombie behind Kethal was different than the others, draped in a miasma of pure evil. Its eyes radiated deadly intelligence. It lunged at Kethal's throat with speed that was inhuman. Rory dropped into a squatting position and drew magik from deep within him. He twisted the weaves as he threw them at his foe. The result was a swirling vortex of magikal blades that was visible to the naked eye. The swirling spell caught Kethal's hair as it passed her striking the zombie in the upper chest with a sound like an axe chopping into wood. The creature twisted and fell backwards, absorbing only part of the blast. The remaining power of the spell sliced into a tree behind the zombie shreding wood with an explosion that could be heard for miles. The large tree toppled earthward with a powerful crashing vibration that caused everyone in the clearing to nearly lose their footing. Baldwin had Final Judgement moving in a blur swinging at the creature with all the strength of his body. The zombie threw up its arms in defense. Baldwin struck blade first, it was like hitting iron. The zombie lowered his shoulder and charged forward striking Baldwin in the chest. Final Judgment wavered as Baldwin flew backwards as if launched from a catapult. He tumbled heels over head, crashing into another tree hitting it about twenty feet above the ground. The ground rushed upward to slam into him. He tried to stand when his legs turned to rubber and the ground began to pitch wildly. He fell forward into darkness.

The zombie whirled just in time for the molten rock projectile to streak into his shoulder with all the power Rory could muster. Had the creature not turned the missile would have struck it in the head. The force of the impact ripped off the zombie's arm at the shoulder. With a hiss it took three running steps toward Rory, then without warning it spun and ran towards Arthur...

Re: The Last War

#571

Kethal intercepted undead creature, tripping it with a simple sweep. She quickly found herself in close quarters with the creature, it's arm regrowing at an incredibly fast pace.

It moved fast, but Kethal was faster. Every lunge and grab only hit air as the creature fought her in an unbridled fury. Her braided hair, with those blue-metalic rings in it, now only came down to her shoulder blades, an after effect of Rory's spell.

Kethals movements were enchanting. Every move and action seemed to flow from one to the next in an unearthly grace that was visually stunning. Arthur was transfixed on her.

The creature never touched her. Even when it seemed to have her at its mercy, she was moments later free from it's grasp. However, with no weapon of any kind, her blows were equally useless...

Re: The Last War

#572

...but Rory's were not. His staff charged with dense layers of magik swung downward striking the zombie's skull with a tremndous collision. There was a crack as its skull gave way. It dropped to one knee. Rory swung sideways gripping his staff with two hands. The weapon was a blur as it struck, the vibration of the impact shook Rory's arms so hard he grunted in pain. There was another resounding crack as the vertebrae in the zombies neck snapped. It hit the ground hard enough to leave an impression in the mossy sward. Head lolling on its broken neck at an unnatural angle it began to crawl away from Rory, clawing at the ground and dragging its legs behind...

Re: The Last War

#573

The horse ran carrying Holly and Grumple, bumping Grumple up and down as he held on to the horse's neck. His leg hurt. Other things hurt too. A dark and familiar rumble in Grumple's tummy seemed to work its way up his spine and whisper enticingly into his ear.

It said in its friendly, rumbly voice, "Horse smell nice, Grumple. Mmmmm. Nice. You know... like goat... big goat... maybe only one would be enough. Just one. Strong arms wrapped around the neck. So easy. Reach around more. Squeeze a bit. So easy, Grumple, so easy... Mmmmm."

"Quit squeezing my throat, you misshapen toad," said the horse abruptly to Grumple. "Or I'll kick you back into the prehistoric pit from which you crawled. Got it?"

Stunned at the intelligent outburst, Grumple relaxed his grip and leaned back, with his best "Who, Me?" surprised expression on his face. He grinned at Hol-lee: Horse just kidding around! Grumple said, "Nice Horse!" and tried to pat it convincingly. However, Grumple's tummy grumbled to itself angrily as they rode along.

Re: The Last War

#574

The squad stopped. Every man stared. Even though the light was dim, a magnificent horse was seen only two hundred paces off. Then suddenly there was a woman on its back, then something else, in a grimy cloak. The horse and riders galloped away.

"Uh, Corporal, wasn't dat the blonde we was told to find last night?" asked one of the footmen. "Shut your face!" ordered Griswold.

"Dammit!" he thought to himself. "If we had caught that blonde the Captain wanted, I'd have gotten my rank back!"

"Back to the wall!" he commanded. Henderson nodded -- but he didn't need to. The men were all too happy to carry out this order.

Re: The Last War

#575

The morning sun moved upward, and the shadows of night were dispelled. Just as the sun arose, so did the spirits rise within the Legionnaires. Guards on the walls extinguished their torches, their eyes red from staring in fear over the outer walls of Halbad. They staggered down from their posts to get some sleep, while ignoring the ever-present grumbling and cursing of the men who were waking up to prepare for a new day.

Already, Second and Third Dekms of the BlackHand Riders were mounting up. There were a few zombies out on the field, exposed when the blanket of darkness was rolled back by the sun. An opening was made in the South Gate of Halbad. Twenty horses poured out, flowing over the ground like birds in flight, splitting into two groups of ten, then into four groups of five, star formations. Each group picked one of the witless undead, thundering down upon the zombie. The undead did not coordinate attacks, and could not run any faster in death than in life. As a result, the horsemen knocked them down again and again, hacking off bits with swords and axes until only the living still moved on that area of the battlefield.

The Black Hand galloped about in widening patterns, clearing more area. Occasionally, the horsemen thought they recognized a fellow soldier in the faces of the zombies. If anything, the cavalrymen galloped faster and hit even harder to strike down such an ex-comrade quickly... and bring him to his final rest. Each horseman was grimly thinking, "That's what I would want."

Re: The Last War

#576

Holly winced as Tigra galloped on weaving in and out of tree's untill finally they came to a clearing. people were fighting something and then it was on the floor crawling. Holly sighed and eased tigra forward She smiled slightly at Grumple as more pain shot up her leg and through her arm. Her head had started to spin as the ride went on. "tigra go and stand on the thing over there" came Holly's voice in short breaths. Tigra listened and walked slowly into the clearing in front of all the people and walked straight for the creature. Tigra put one of her heavy hoofs onto the creatures legs and it made a sharp piercing cry. Holly didn't bother looking at the people around her instead she tried to scramble of the horses back without falling to the ground. she had used the last of her strength climbing that flipping wall out of that hole. she landed on the ground, her leg gave a mighty groan and she collapsed onto the floor. Pain again shot through her arm and her head gave an almighty lurch. Her long blonde hair fell about her face as she craddled her arm to her chest "god d**n don't you hate day's like these" she said to herself looking down at the floor. Holly didn't really realise but she had said that rather more loudly than she had wanted to.

Re: The Last War

#577

Damar, now the Royal Inquisitor, formerly a Lieutenant in the Halbad Militia, looked at the daunting array of tools in front of him. Secretly he whispered a prayer that the bugbear hadn't resisted when the soldiers had strapped him to the table. Fastened securely by teh bands, the creature was unable to escape, unable to harm any of the survivors. Perhaps the king was right, that this creature might be a scout for a bugbear host set on ravaging the country. Palaten was destroyed, Halbad already had one foot in the grave. The medallion of Saint Logan bothered Damar.

Why would a pagan bugbear, a worshipper of inhumane gods and cannibals be wearing such a necklace. Even the carefully groomed claws, the clipped hair, the calm and even pace of the creature's voice. None of it spoke of bestial rage and human-devouring madness. It was still more bothersome that the Bugbear was recanting the Creed of St. Duncan...

"Creature..." Damar said, trying to sound authorative, but not feeling it. The hanging hooks, stained with russet made his skin crawl. "Have you a name?"

"Of course I do." Tantus said, "I am named Tantus, and I am from the Bewahren Monastary."

"Don't speak lies. Do not sully the name of that place with your foul tongue." Damar said "Tell me your true name, or I will resort to less pleasant means." The bugbear regarded him coldly for a moment and continued to recite the Creed of St. Duncan. Damar felt frustrated, he had never tortured anyone, well he and his older brothers had held down his younger brother and gave him a good drubbing, but nothing...for real. Usually a wave of the sword got lips to loosen quite well. The bugbear seemed immune to such interrogation methods. but he himself had to get something from him, the King had given him the post, and if Halbad survived, he could be set up as a member of the lesser to middle nobility.

He picked up a strange pair of clamps...metal grabbers? He didnt know what they were but they looked intimidating. He waved them menacingly at the bugbear, but the creature showed no reaction. Frustration prevailed and Damar struck the creature across the face with the metal implement. The bugbear spat blood and shook his large head. Twice more the tool struck the creature, each time bringing a splatter of blood and a grunt.

"Szagra abd grishnack!" Tantus cursed at the pain that burrowing into his face.

Re: The Last War

#578

Grumple slid down off the horse as well, and likewise collapsed. He was glad to see the bad thing on the ground was pinned by, well, by a whole LOT of horse which stood on it. "Maybe horse friend" thought Grumple. (Even if it did smell awfully tasty).

Over there was the little man -- the one Grumple had grabbed and saved yesterday -- nearby with the book. That meant little man must be smart. Only smart people had books. Little man should know what to do. He had the wavy fingers, too, which was a good sign, although Grumple didn't know what that meant except it was probably better than the usual sword or axe.

Grumple got back up with effort, and hopped over to little man. The troll laid his enormous grayish-green hand on Arthur's shoulder, and smiling his cheery best, tried to appear appealing and friendly. Judging from the expression on Arthur's face, Grumple appeared every bit as appealing and friendly as the most cheerful 200-lb gorilla you could hope to meet (and then some).

Still, to his credit, the little man controlled himself enough to hear Grumple slowly grind out the words, "Hhh-help hhh-Hol-lee." Grumple pointed at his friend, who had now passed out.

Re: The Last War

#579

Arthur was torn between two forces, both powerful. On one hand, there was a monster over there capable of ripping his head off. Arthur was deathly afraid of the thing. His encounters today had only reinforced his own respect for his own life. If the thing had been human, it would not have been such a problem, however the last night had given rise to a sort of xenophobia, and he had yet to overcome it.

On the other hand, she was injured. Arthur, whether he liked it or not, was a medic. He hated this thing about him, this need to save lives even when it costed himself so much, but it was part of himself, too much a part of himself to let go or ignore.

These two instincts raged within Arthur's mind, neither yeilding to the other, neither gaining an inch, but then his mind thought of Kethal. She would see him as bravely risking his life to save another. He desired her approval, her affection, her touch...

His heart skipped a beat thinking of her hands touching his.

On the battle field that was his mind, compassion won. He mentally blocked out the creature from his mind, he had to to save her. At first it was hard, but in moments, after a quick glance at his patient, the monster was no longer there to him. Kethal was no longer there to him.

His eyes unfocused for a moment, his vision blurring. In the heated night and fast events, he had forgotten how tired he had become. He had not slept last night, and his mind and body needed that sleep very badly. He thought of rest. He thought of Kethal. Then his mind refocused again.

He mentally set the weaves of magic, and then let them loose at the fallen woman before him. He felt filled with ecstacy. Life itself, in its purest form, it filled him to the brim. He was a cup, and now he was being filled, being completed, utterly and completely.

He set the thread into a pattern, infinantly intricate as Holly's leg started to mend itself. A wracking cold filled Holly Mayleaf, to the point of painful, debilitating cold. He leg wound closed up, blood restored to the area. Her leg would now suffer from a painful limp, just as Arthur wanted. Healing should never be an arbitrary thing. It should never be lightly taken. Wounds are meant to last as a reminder not to be so foolish. Not to take a life. The limp that Arthur left could never be mended. She would feel the justice of her actions, of her countless murders.

His eyes blurred again. In that critical moment when he needed to let go, to stop drawing upon life itself, he lost control. He continued to draw on the power. It flowed through him like the river of life and death, and in his moment of fatigue, he became swept away in it.

Holly's leg continued to mend. There would be no scar, no limp. Her scratches left her. The fabric of healing was no longer usable on her, she was whole now. Arthur continued to draw. Somewhere, Arthur's consciousness screamed at him. He saw himself kneeling there and screamed at himself to stop. He was overdrawing. If he did not stop drawing, he would die. But this consciousness was outside of himself. Arthur could hear the screams, the pleading, but they were outside him.

As the sweet essence of life filled him, Holly began to feel warm. It was as if a sweet warmth flowed over and around her. Her senses became sharper, her mind became faster, her body became stronger, and all the time Arthur screamed at the top of his lungs in a desparate plea.

Suddenly, the cries of his consciousness became a tangible thing. The river of life flowing through him was abruptly cut.

Arthur collapsed on the ground. He had drawn too much of his own power through him. His heart still beat, and his chest still moved in and out, but his eyes were blank, as if his mind, no, his soul, had left his body behind.

Re: The Last War

#580

OCC: Wow. I'm speechless.

Re: The Last War

#581

Grumple stood there on one foot and watched. Something wonderful was happening, wonderful enough to penetrate even a troll's simple mind. There was good magic here. Grumple's friend Hol-lee was getting better. Little man was giving the better to Hol-lee. But Little man was not getting better at all.

He gave too much, cried, and fell down. Grumple stopped staring, and hopped over to him. He squatted down, picked up a limp arm, and put it gently down. With uncharacteristic tenderness, the troll stroked the man's ashen face. Little man was not dead, but was not good. "Urshad Grammen" Grumple mumbled in Trollshaw. "Return ground" or "get better".

Grumple decided then that he would watch over Little man until he got better, if no one else would.

Grumple pulled him over to the tree by Hol-lee carefully. She put her cloak over him. She could watch him for a few minutes. The horse still stood on the wounded monster. Good.

Grumple needed healing too. He went down to the stream and licked his lips. Yes. Jumpers. In the pool. Big green ones, like back in the sog-lands outside the pretty city. He quickly caught several, and gulped them down whole. Not terribly filling, but they hit the spot, and kicked it repeatedly to boot. Toss in a bushel-ful of roots and moss for essential goodness, a few handfuls of gravel for crunch, and Grumple was set for a quick recovery. Got rinsed off, too.

One more thing. Grumple hopped over to an Ironwood tree near the stream. There. Perfect. Grumple pounded at the base of a low branch with a sharp rock until the heavy wood came free. Dragging the branch back to Little Man and Hol-lee, Grumple sat down heavily and started to gnaw off all the leaves and smaller twigs to form a sturdy club. Yeah.

With a good grip. Yeah.

And lots of knots and lumps on the end, to make lots of knots and lumps on monsters and bad men. Yeah.

Re: The Last War

#582

--wake up--

--wake up--

--wake up!!!--

"get out of my..." Baldwin sat up quickly, consciousness splashing painfully across his head. "Who?" He looked down at his sword, that had fallen five feet away. He reached out. It seemed to come to his hand by itself. It must have been the blow he took on his head affecting his senses. He stood up on shaky legs striding over to where the zombie was pinned on the ground. He raised the sword and sliced downward with all his strength. The blade severed the zombie's spinal cord with a brilliant flash and muffled concussion. The force threw Baldwin backwards to land on his rear heavily. He rose and stumbled over to the severed head. Gripping it by the hair he hurled it into the woods with a grunt and a heave.

He sat down heavily, breathing hard...

OOC: Big props Nobody. Excellent Post. Scrasamax as usual it's good to read your stuff.

Re: The Last War

#583

OOC - Superb post Nobody, well written!

BTW, thanks POG. :D

Re: The Last War

#584

Grumple rubbed his protruding tummy happily but watched intently while Bald-man got up and killed the monster. Good. Even Grumple thought it was ugly -- and that was saying something.

Grumple relaxed a bit, looked at the little man next to him, and wondered how to help. There didn't seem to be anything to do for him. Grumple continued to lean against the tree and finished up with gnawing on a basic club, then relaxed some more. Picking a few wood chips out of his teeth, Grumple gripped the club. (Felt good). The sun was warm. (Felt good, too.) There were friends around. (Felt very, very good...) Knee-bones and Finger-bones were growing back (Felt itchy)...

Soon Grumple was snoring.

Hopefully, Arthur was in a deep enough coma to be deaf, or he might be deaf when he wakes up!

Re: The Last War

#585

Several minutes ago at that exact location.

Ambrosia rose another fallen man from death, denying him the peace that would have been his. The peace that he did not deserve. It was hard, but she was winning. The Legion had proved a harder battle then she had expected. Once officers learned that men were being posessed, they had stoped wearing their rank on their sleeve, donning soldier outfits like all of the rest. Even more cleverly, they would have others dress up as themselves and draw her shadows, men who were civilians and did not know their leader's voice.

Needless to say, Ambrosia's amazing success at the beginning was tiring now. It was slowing down, but she still prevailed. Her magic was all but spent, her power nearly used. The Legion was destroying her minions as fast as she could raise them, her and her greater undead.

She saw twenty souls approaching. They were knights on a crusade to destroy this evil. Somehow they had managed to get past her soldiers.

"Kill them"

Twenty of her risen attacked the twenty of them, but the heavy armor that they wore protected them from the clawing hands and painful bites of her servants. In moments, Ambrosia had seen why they had survived for so long, but now her greater Zombies and her shadows were engaging. These men would not likely have faced these.

The four Greater Zombies rushed at the men. Faster and stronger, the knights were caught off gaurd. Four knights of the order were grappled around their throats. The metal plate that protected their throats from suffocation started to bend, they died as surely as the music played it's haunting melody.

It was not however the Greater Zombies that did the most damage. Here, in vicious combat, her two Shadows were finally allowed to act. Before the other knights knew what had happened, two decapitated corpses hit the ground from the blows of their posessed comrads. They fought their comrad to the death, only for Ambrosia's elite to take over another two.

The last seven left were immune to possesion. The amulets around their necks prevented the violation of their minds and souls. Instead, the shadows tore into them with incorporeal claws that passed right through their armor, slicing them to pieces. Their cries of anguish failed them as they went into death undisturbed. They went unviolated by the music. This was the first time that they had heard it. The others tried to fight the Shades, but mortal weapons could not hurt what was not there, and the other five went into death. Only one of her greater Zombies remained.

Again she was victorious. She stepped foreward to examine the charms which protected the fallen knights. Pain shot through her as pressure went to her ankle. She faltered.

NO!!!

Her rasping, warped voice cried out as the music box fell from her hands. She did not catch it in time. It hit the ground on the corner, and landed upside down, closed.

The music stopped abruptly, it's voice silenced.

with her power no longer augmented by the power of the music box, she poured her energy into retaining control of the shadows. It worked. They resisted fiercely, but they were not as strong as her. This was her thought before she was thrown ten feet through the air by the remaining zombie. Pain wracked her body from head to toe. Terrible pain. Excruciating pain, everywhere all at once. It was unimaginable.

She faltered her control for another moment, and in her moment of weakness, her shadows regained control of themselves. The claw marks that the shadows left were unnoticable on her deformed, mangled body.

Her soul went to the underworld, but pain did not end for her there. Now it was not her body that the shadow ravaged, but her soul. She screamed in terrible agony as they tortured her mercilessly, a caged animal now free to gain long awaited vengance against it's captor. Here in the underworld, their claws were far more real.

...

Many minutes later, ravaged both body and soul, she felt life slowly returning to her. The shadows had not known. The ring that she wore returned strength to her even after her soul had left her body. She reveled in the knowledge that she would return to complete her mission, her quest. Nothing could stop her.

Then the ring was taken from her dead body by an unknown force. For the second time in as many moments, she felt utter dispair. There was no coming back...

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now, in the present

Arthur's soul was taken down to the underworld. He had drawn to much from himself, and now, although his body lived, his sould was gone. He looked around at the world around him. Off in the distance he saw a gigantic stone gateway. Although he did not know this, it was the final gateway into eternal rest. It called to him. Spoke to him. He felt peace at the thought of it. But another force called to him. One much closer. A light in the gray wasteland of the underworld. It was small at first, but as he focused on it, it became more powerful.

He could feel life trickling back into him. He could feel strength and senses returning to him. The ring that shone on his right hand, to him and no-one else, it pulled him back. He felt the world shift around himself. Light and sound assaulted his senses. He was reborn into life and he awoke. Kethal kneeled over him with her hand touching his.

He swallowed.

"Oh, good, you were only asleep" she said. "I thought that you had somehow been injured. Sorry about that"

She had a wolf with her. It looked well fed...

Re: The Last War

#586

OCC: Sheesh. That was too much. I'm going to have to think about that last post.

Re: The Last War

#587

Holly moved the new power flowing over her body making her feel more and more alive. She felt as if she had just woken from a long sleep refreshed and ready. She stood slowly testing her leg but it was better than it was before. all of her old scars had vanished her body was pure and fine again. Her skin shone as if the sun was hitting her when she was wet. Holly felt alive again. She stretched moving her muscles in every single way. Holly pulled her cloak hood down and let her long, wavy, glimmering blonde hair fall around her face and shoulders. She was being very ignorant to the people around she hadn't even seen if they were friend or foe, but she didn't care. They couldv'e been her enemy and she would of fought them true and proper. But who could heal her like this. She had felt revived once before when..... She thought back 'Arthur' Arthur had healed her before. Holly spun around and looked around the clearing "Baldwin" holly shot forward throwing herself onto the floor at his feet "If your here then were is Rory?"

Re: The Last War

#588

OCC: Nobody, that's a really, really tough act to follow. I'm still thinking.

IC: Grumple rolled about with snorts and snores, re-living the recent nightmares of past hours and in his dreams. Re-living the battles, and winning them. Re-establishing the order of things, and making limited sense of it all. Re-experiencing the wounds... and healing them for real in his sleep.

But something troubled Grumple. Something was not right. Something called to the troll from near enough to touch, yet from afar. Unknown to Grumple, the items dropped by Tantus (that Grumple had picked up back in Halbad a day or so ago) included an engraved likeness of St. Duncan carved out of bone from a martyr slain. This item was prayerfully sculpted long ago in miniature by the unlikely hand of a very large and furry monk-in-training; by the only bugbear ever to create such an image. Such an artifact had therefore been blessed, indeed, by powers beyond the comprehension of men, and certainly beyond the comprehension of a sleeping troll. But Grumple did not need to understand it to feel its call.

"Help" it called. "Help me" called Tantus. "Help him" called the Saint.

Grumple slept, uneasy, not yet healed perhaps, but not willing to wait, either. Friends were hard to come by... and too, too easily lost.

Re: The Last War

#589

OOC: I'm stunned! :shock: How can we follow that, Nobody? You need to quit your day job. I gotta wait a couple of days before I even attempt to post...

Re: The Last War

#590

OCC: Wait to post??? That would really be classy. You know, Loads of Honor, and that stuff, out of respect for a stunning effort.

Let me think... would I wait to post in honor of an outstanding effort by Nobody? ...

...Naaaah! 8)

IC: Captain Kraggis woke up at noon, and immediately got a Status Report.

"Most undead are, well, dead, sir... Twice. Some are being hunted down. The Legion has hundreds in casualties, sir, and several hundred more missing. Insignificant casualties from the Halbad defenders. Most fled to the castle. Cleanup crews on the, the, uh, slain defenders, by the, uh, unknown forces, sir." Private Brelden swallowed, once. Twice.

"Twelve dead and accounted for, twenty-two lost from the Black Hand. Unknown status, sir. Seventy wounded, but most will fight," reported Private Brelden.

Carl pulled on his boots; adjusted the sword belt around his halberd. "2nd and 3rd Dekms?"

Brelden continued, "They are successfully clearing the area outside the South Gate, sir. Light resistance." He swallowed, and tried to continue without thinking about the enormity of what he said... "Numerous reports of... of Legion troops from... from occupation forces back from the city of Palaten. Here. Attacking Halbad... that is, attacking us... that is, ...Sir..."

Captain Kraggis stood up. He took one step over to the stuttering private, and grasped him firmly by the tunic on his chest. Kraggis looked him right in the eye, his grip strong and decisive, his voice quiet at first.

"Good. Remember that, Private Brelden. You are Black Hand. You will fight for me and for the Emperor, and that $#!+ won't happen to you. Got it?!! Or to your comrades. We fight together. We die together. And if a man falls, your brethren in the Black Hand will be there to save you, or to bring you to peace. Right?!" Nose to nose, Kraggis' eyes bored into that of the frightened cavalryman.

"Right, sir!" Brelden agreed. He felt relieved. The Captain would lead them to victory, or to the next world in the arms of the gods. Either way, he just knew that he could follow and do his part. The Captain had spoken.

Kraggis relaxed his grip on the young man and picked up his spear. "Good. Make ready my horse. We will reconnoiter the surroundings and see if the catapaults can be brought within the city walls. MOVE!"

Re: The Last War

#591

OOC: Simple POG, The same way that I follow brilliant Posts by You, Dream, Tantus, and Callista Miala Moonshade. By posting my best and hoping that I will someday match your level of writing.

IC:
This particular morning, recruiter Harris found himself flooded by men wanting to enlist. Voluntarily at that. Normally men had to be forced to join the army, and a few others joined for the money, but today the people of Halbad flocked by the masses to join the Legion, saviors of Halbad.

Somehow, the rumor had gotten started that the Legion had not only defeated the undead, but had also known about it before hand, and had taken the city to defend it. The tale only spread among the youth, but even those who did not believe the rumors were enlisting.

Harris had gone through three books of parchement, and had enlisted 10 men to write down names and Ranks for him, but the crowd was only growing in size. Last nights events had apparently made a strong impression on the masses, one which the King of Halbad was taking the Blame for, and which the Legion was being Exalted for.

Re: The Last War

#592

Centurion Fellstrom and his elite guard rode up to the crowd around the recruiters. "See that?" he muttered to his orderly, while scratching the back of his head under his helmet with the point of his dagger. "The only thing you can count on from people is that they can't be counted on."

"THERE HE IS! IT'S THE LEADER! OUR SAVIOR!" the crowd roared when they spotted him in his armour and cape. "CENTURION! CENTURION!" the chanting began. Many ran over and tried to touch the general or his horse. The big roan charger pranced nervously to one side, stepping on a few civilians here and there.

"Spread the word," said Fellstrom as he leaned down to Harris at the table. "A reward for solid information on how to get into that castle. And tell them to bring out their hidden supplies of food for the Legion." Spurring his horse, he rode off.

Re: The Last War

#593

Tantus sagged on the rack, his face a bloody ruin. Fire stitched up the right side of his body, the ribs likely being broken there. He had blacked out a time or two, but the number didnt seem very important any more. The sticky heat in his face, the side that he couldnt see out of drew his attention. His left eye refused to open, the flesh around it was swollen tight. He had been tantalized by the taste of his own blood for a few moments, then it became repulsive, the bitter coppery taste.

Now it was just a sidenote in an encyclopedia of pain. Had Mancel suffered like this when he was struck through with seven spears before the gates of Sangreal? He lifted his one good eye towards Royal Inquistor Damar, and the blurred figure of another man, likely the king, guessing by the smell of fear and cologne. He tried to give a feral grin, but his lips were stiff, and moving them split open the fresh scabs, bringing new lines of fire across them. The taste of blood was strong again. He wondered that this should be his fate, to survive a pilgrimage across the land, to see the Black Wind, to hear the Psalms of the Dead played on their music box, and to die a prisoner of a foolhardy bigot. Somehoe the though wasnt as disturbing as he thought it should be.

"Perhaps they will make you a saint, and another of your kin will wear an ivory medallion around his next and think of St. Tantus." A figure said to him. The figure vaguely reminded him of Brother Antimony from the Monastary, but looked very much like Grumple. He felt a moment of true anguish, knowing that the gnobby little troll would not see him again. He wished he had time to drink some more ale with the beastie. No one else had ever understood trollshaws humor.

"I would say they will, they will remember you in this life and the next." a woman looking like Holly said, but her voice was the measured even cadence of Sister Marceia.

*****
"What is that damned buffoon glaring at?" The king asked, Damar himself had been pondering the same for the last half hour. He didnt have the skill or finesse of a proper Inquisitor, but his old drill instructor had said that when skill was lacking, enthusiasm could compensate. So Damar had been enthusiastic, with the tongs and the baton, and anytihng else he could use as a bludgeon.

"I dont know sir." Damar said.

Re: The Last War

#594

While asleep, Grumple's psychic roots reached down into the diffuse spirit of the earth where all trolls originate and draw their essence. The misty, shapeless forms coalesced invisibly upward from the ground into his injured body and troubled mind. Had anyone watched closely they would have seen the fibers in his knee weave back together at a visible rate; the boiled skin of his eyes jelled and cleared as he blinked in his sleep. Strength and new energy bubbled up and overflowed into tired muscles and torn flesh with legendary speed and efficiency. Broken particles and liquid bits sloughed off and fell away, while the athletic tossing and turning -- with associated reverberating snuffles and snores -- flung them clear.

In short, a sleeping troll would probably not be your first choice for snuggling in bed.

Having wisely deduced such, Holly and Arthur wisely moved out of range, which in this case, meant many yards off, behind several trees, and most especially, downwind.

Yet, as Grumple grew stronger and in size, another force contested with the deep sleep which brought its promise of healing. The dreams were clearer and stronger now. Tantus needed help. Grumple must waken. Grumple must help his friend. The dream grew and solidified until it finally cracked through the wall of sleep into consciousness.

Grumple snapped awake with a savage growl. "GralzenT'nts!", or "KillTantus!"

He sprang to his feet, supported by two strong, powerful legs, and looked clearly down at the pocket of the torn cloak. The dirty rags were too small, now, so Grumple tore them off the rest of the way and pulled the bit of bone out of the pocket and stared at it. The figurine seemed to pulse in his knobby, oversize hand. He knew he needed to go back to the castle. Many bad men.

But Grumple was not like other trolls, Oh, No. Grumple had spend years with people. Grumple thought of the little blonde girl -- what was her name again? -- Elwina. She had teased Grumple years ago when he forgot his mail-studded breeches one day and went out to stand guard. "Grumple! Hee-hee! You're naked! You look funny!"

Grumple did not want to look funny. Grumple knew a naked troll, especially one now over 6 feet tall -- would not be able to hide in the city. So with a surprising flash of brilliance, Grumple loped over to the dead body of a large knight and pulled off its mailed hauberk and wiggled into it. It was tight across the troll's massive chest, but manageable. Then the tunic and belt. Then, a cape. Grumple couldn't get the helmet over his protruding brow, so he pulled up the hood of the hauberk over his head. The boots were a loss, too. They couldn't possibly fit over his huge, prehensile toes.

Finally, Grumple spied a large war-axe imbedded in the back of another fallen knight and yanked it out. It was a very large single-bladed axe with a point on top and a heavy hammer head on the back with a long steel shaft. He waved it about and felt the solid, satisfying heft. In the hands of a 250 lb troll, it handled like a feather.

Oh, Yeah!

Grumple was ready.

Re: The Last War

#595

Captain Kraggis was at the South Gate of Halbad. It had been closed after 2nd and 3rd Dekms of the Black Hand had trotted out.

"Sound the recall trumpet!" he yelled to the man on the tower. To the soldiers on the ground: "Locate and lasso some of those horses that ran into the city two nights ago. They're not all dead are they? We will form a team and recover the siege engines out by the forest."

"Status report! Can the North Gate be made passable? You there! Go find out! MOVE!"

Re: The Last War

#596

Rory looked at the form of his slumbering brother. It was a change as he was usually the one to sleep at any given oppurtunity. Baldwin had been thru quite an ordeal in the battle with the Black Wind and the greater zombie and would take a while to recover. Rory popped a pumpkin seed into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He looked at Grumple's thrashing and could almost see the forces at work mending the troll's body. One needn't be fluent in trollshaw to realize that Grumple meant to go somewhere and do battle. Rory mused that it likely had something to do with Tantus.

The Wilder looked at the now nearly full sized troll heft the war axe. "Grumple," he asked, "Do you have a plan?" He looked at the troll's toes, "probably not." he said more to himself. "Stay still." He bent down and grabbed some mud and earth from the ground. He spit on it and rubbed it on the troll's feet. He cast a spell, a trifling really. The mud appeared as leather, the illusion hiding the huge toes that would never pass as human. Taking a length of rope from Baldwin's sack Rory bound his own hands in front of him. A mischievous grin spread across his face, "Sir Grumple, it looks like you've caught yourself a prisoner. This should do well enough to get us to the castle."

He looked at Kethal and the rest. "Anyone else want to play?"...

Re: The Last War

#597

Grumple wiggled his toes inside his "boots" and grinned a not-quite-as-toothy-as-usual grin (a couple of busted canines had not yet grown back in his mouth... that would require a few more handfuls of gravel to pass through that fantastic materials processing plant which passed for a troll's digestive system).

Grumple "got" Rory's plan. He may have been dumb as a brick, but comparatively speaking, he was a pretty smart brick, as bricks go. With some difficulty, Grumple tried to explain. "Uh... Tan-tus bad. Hurt... Uh..." He held out the icon carved from bone on the beaded string to Rory. "Bone man say 'Help'. See?".

Grumple looked at Hol-lee and Little Man. Grumple was glad they did not look hurt now. Grumple wasn't sure his friends should go back into the city. Many bad men would see them come back, and friends get broken so easily.

Re: The Last War

#598

Deep within a stone room deep within the castle that was deep within Halbad, another being awoke from sleep. In the darkness of the enclosure, Belzar opened his eyes, then narrowed them and looked all around him carefully. He was alone. Good.

Belzar stood up, and looked down at his feet. The huge warding symbol of protection he had etched into the cold stone floor still glowed with arcane energy. Carved grooves in stone, then filled with the dried skin of holy men, then activated with spells to repel evil. Before he had summoned the demonic forces of the Black Wind, the master summoner had taken precaution after precaution. Such a staggering rift in the interplanar nexus as would bring forth hundreds of thousands of hell's minions at once was unstable by nature. He had made a safe place to retreat to first, so that the onslaught would not touch him.

No one would look for him here, in the very castle he planned to overthrow. No one could see this room, for the door had been replaced with a stone wall he had summoned to cover. Even the memory of the door he had erased from the minds of men. He had summoned the wispy thoughts into his very hand days ago, and then scattered them into the darkest corner of the room. Now, the Black Wind was gone; its work was done. It was time to set the next phase of his plan in motion.

Belzar stepped out over the glowing pentagram, over the outer ring. He walked to the wall and felt for anyone outside. No man there. Good. With a nearly-silent mumble and a wave, he returned the stone wall to doorway and stepped out into the corridor, walking a few strides.

Suddenly, a silky, leering voice spoke out of nowhere. "Well, well, Salfir. You emerge".

It was Melgrittzigym! Belzar froze.

"You slept long, so long. We hope you are... greatly refreshed."

Belzar had not expected this. The demons should have been long gone, and he was exposed. He turned carefully, as the diminutive demon dropped down from the ceiling and hovered just in front of his face.

"What are you doing here?!" Belzar demanded. "You have been paid. Your work is done."

"Ahh, yes, yes. Our work is done, true; but the matter of payment," sneered the little fiend. "We required nothing more than the blood of..."

"I gave you that girl!" interrupted Belzar, as his flesh crawled at the sound of the sarcastic little voice from hell.

Melgrittzigym went on "...IF your humble servant might continue... we required nothing more than the blood of royalty if... my associates and I were to travel so far, so far to bring to you our... unique services. A Princess, I believe, was the agreed price. Yes. A certain blonde Princess." He grinned at Belzar, his wings making a humming sound only inches from the wizard's nose. "We tasted your offering, Salfir. She, shall we say, lacked flavor."

Belzar slipped a hand slowly and carefully into his pocket for a warding charm while trying to stall. "Then why did you do my bidding, if you did not think the offering was sufficient?" He noticed other small demons were emerging from cracks and shadows, moving silently to surround him, a growing tide.

"Oh, let us say, 'Salfir'" -- the title snapped off the demon's lips like a lash against Belzar's ears -- "let us say that we knew you were 'Good for It'."

At this Belzar's hand closed on... nothing. The powerful ward was not in his pocket.

"Looking for this? Hee, hee, hee!" giggled a voice behind his back. A smaller, slimy black form buzzed around in front of Belzar and out of reach, holding the golden symbol at the end of a tiny spear.

Belzar suddenly bolted for the hidden room and safety. He got into the room, but not to safety. Hundreds of buzzing black shapes swarmed over him and muffled his screams as he fell under their onslaught and knew no more.

Re: The Last War

#599

Kethal thought about what Rory had said. She looked at the people here. They were tired. It was plain on their faces. Baldwin and Arthur looked the worst off. Rory seemed to have managed it the best.

Kethal was also tired. Not as much as they were, but still very fatigued.

"I will go, but we need a way into the Castle once we get there. Unless you know of a secret entrance, we have no way to get past the gates.

OOC:Sorry for the short post. No time.

Re: The Last War

#600

Holly stood up and leant against a tall oak, "I know a way into the castle" She smiled polietly as she looked at the group one by one. Her glance stopped on Rory she hadn't seen him in so long and now there he was. Tigra walked slowly over to the group as well "I need to get into the city again aswell i need to check if any of my group are still alive. if i smarten myself up abit i can be.. well Grumple can ride on me i suppose" Tigra looked to the floor then up at the others and gave a very horsy grin. Holly smiled and looked at the others "And if there's anyway of hidding my identity then i can also be a prisoner." Holly smiled again and walked forward towards Kethal "I'm Holly by the way" she said to kethal.