Game Thread South, across the Middle Sea - Page 8 - RPG Crossing
RPG Crossing Home Forums Create An Account! Site Rules & Help

RPG Crossing
Go Back   RPG Crossing > Games > Dungeons & Dragons: 5e > In the Coils of Veles
twitter facebook
0 8 5 0
... raised for charity (includes promised matching)!
: +

Notices

Reply
 
Thread Tools
  #106  
Old Sep 17th, 2021, 05:29 PM
Strangemund's Avatar
Strangemund Strangemund is online now
Your Local Cryptid
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 6407
Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund
Posts: 1,270
The oldest rule in the book...
right-aligned image
"’In the necropolis of Gramvar.’" Kazimir repeated del Magrina’s words with far less vigor, and pulled himself to the front of the crowd.

Kazimir was barely dressed. His tunic inside-out and untucked from his slacks, his feet bare on the sleek wood deck, and blue as the fingers on his delicate hands. But it was his eyes that the captain would focus on, for he couldn’t see them. The night so dark and so thick with fog that they were lost in a veil of darkness that not even the stars themselves could penetrate. Only the maniac scratches that scarred Kazimir's eyes still were seen in the pitch black night. It made Kazimir look old, and wild, like some forgotten primal god.

"Ye understand what that means, dontcha?" Kazimir looked between Vrakiras and del Magrina, his voice dark and low, and uncomfortably unlike him. "What awaits us in a city that still suffers, that still cries out in agony. Dun get me wrong. I mourn fer her, too. For the homes taken. For the stories unwritten. For the voices that will never be heard again. But…" He turned to look at the wall of fog, towards the ruin of Gramvar. And even though he couldn’t see its fires, he felt its heat on the wind, baring its teeth on his skin. "The veil is thin in Gramvar, between the dead an’ the living. The gates of Hel are parted, an’ Gramvar’s streets are full."

As if his own words pained him, Kazimir took a sharp and heavy breath, and turned to look back at the bastards he called friends for the last week. "Iffin any of ye go, ye will see more than corpses. Ye will see bodies twisted by the evils that feed upon the pain o’ good people. Husbands and wives. Brothers and sisters. Even friends some of us once knew…" Kazimir paused. "That’s what lurks in a necropolis. ‘A city of the dead.’ And while justice can get ye far." he looked at del Magrina and Vrakiras, before his gaze fell to Zenda. "and anger is fine fer fuelin’ fires, what matters most in times dire as these is the one truth that’s existed since the dawn o’ time…"

The silence was deafening as Kazimir drew out his pause, holding a finger up as if to keep it all their hushed words at bay.

And then out of nowhere, Kazimir grinned, and said:

"Always take a soddin’ elf wit you!"
__________________
Status: *Dabs*
DMing: And the Devil Dances Beneath a Mosaic Sky
Characters: Thunder in the Morning - Harp Strum - Captain Tavosh - Kazimir

Last edited by Strangemund; Sep 17th, 2021 at 06:05 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #107  
Old Sep 21st, 2021, 01:04 AM
hafrogman's Avatar
hafrogman hafrogman is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 17639
hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman
Posts: 3,073
Zenda, Swordswoman of Ishadia
right-aligned image
To say that Azar's reveal came as a surprise to Zenda would be an understatement. This could hardly be considered a sympathetic crowd to one of the witch's... persuasion. But here she stood, revealing herself in all her scaly glory... but positioning it as a stand against the Mharoti. Was this real? Or yet another layer of deception? The Ishadian simply could not tell. Azar might be tainted, but at her heart she was human... The little saying she had shared with Kazimir showed she harbored no illusions about the dragons intentions towards the 'lesser' races. Had she finally come to realize that her only hope lay in an alliance against the scale kin? It couldn't be that easy, could it? But caught up in the moment as she was, Zenda couldn't help but hope.

Even Kazimir joined in, toying with the reverse of her own rhetorical device, playing up fears and concerns about what awaited them in the Necropolis. But the fearless grin that accompanied his last words was almost enough to make Zenda think kindly of the strange creature. Was he claiming to be some kind of elf? He looked nothing like Lucia... no matter.

Herself, Bato, even Kazimir and Azar, that just left the enigmatic Nae'laa. A glance towards the fiery woman showed that she had no words for or against the plan... at least for now. Zenda chose to take that as consent and gave del Magrina a decisive nod.

"Well, Captain. It looks like we stand united beside you."

OOC
 

 
__________________
Back. Slowly catching up.

Characters: Del CorganIris KetteringCaleb ShawDeirdre VenteuseYrena
ZendaSquire GainsboroBaruuk TalonfaceKonstantin LumynMarisol d'Arabeth
Reply With Quote
  #108  
Old Oct 8th, 2021, 08:51 PM
4eyedBadger's Avatar
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 7570
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger
Posts: 2,224
Gramvar CoastLet us become the jackal, and teach them to fear it.

Like a sandstorm, old memories of the desert overtake Batoyangi…

It is dusk, and the scrub grasses and twisted acacia stretch far across the rolling hills of Djibbar. The hide tents of the Soul-Judger Clan of gnolls are ornamented with bone and teeth and horns, and the occasional carapace of a tosculi warrior. Painted shields of stretched hide and iron-tipped spears ring the single, central fire, clutched by the warriors. The warriors chant and drive the butts of their spears into the dry earth in unison as Young Bato looks on.

Sitting in the center of the circle, bound by leather cords and with an iron rod across his back keeping his arms immobile, is an adult male gnoll. There is a madness in his eyes, and a defiance in the looks he gives the rest of the clan. The prisoner gives a muffled, barking laugh through his leather-bound muzzle.

The female elders of the clan begin singing, in the yipping, barking tongue of the gnoll. They sing of freedom on the grass seas. Of the strength of the clan. They sing of blood, and the deeds of firstborn daughters. They sing of raids, and heads of cattle, and of hunting the mighty ankhole. They sing of salt and gold, and their voices carry into the darkening night as the rest of the clan joins in the fervor.

Young Bato watches the large tent, remembering what comes next. Two female warriors flank the entry, and pull back the hide flaps. Then she emerges!

Sa Majhuyoag, dressed in the finest purple robes the tribe owns. She dances and whirls out of the doorway like a graceful warrior! In her right hand is the ritual sickle, it’s razor-keen edge flickering in the light of the fire. In her left hand is the golden ankh, her clan’s most holy relic and valuable treasure. On her large head, she wears an elaborate leather mask and headdress of the jackal. Majhuyoag’s own bestial yellow eyes gaze out from beneath the mask as her voice rises above the singers!

"The faithless…the corrupted, will be purged," the Sa pronounces her judgment in the barking tongue, unsuited to subtlety but with great force of emotion. "The demon Nkishi has led another astray! But the soul of the pack will remain pure!"

The clan whoops into the night and the dancing and thundering of spears builds to a crescendo in approval of their clan mother’s words! More precious wood is added to the fire. Majhuyoag places the blade of the sickle into the orange flames. She turns to face the condemned prisoner as the iron heats. "Anu-Akma, preserve the worthy!"

In her aspect of jackal-headed justice, Sa Majhuyoag of the Soul-Judger Clan strides toward the bound cultist. The tip of the iron sickle in her hand glows red hot, and the holy fires are reflected in her eyes beneath the mask. The bound cultist of Laughing Nkishi barks a defiant laugh, but his eyes are wide with fear as the Sa approaches…



* * *

The two launches are lowered from The Sighing Lady into the dark, choppy waters below. At the bottom of the rope ladders, Milkharem the Unyielding Hoof greets each of the “Jambuka Raiders” with a hearty smile and a thunderous clap on the back. He passes each of them a silver coin of Capleon as they board the rowboats. "Should Hune the Portal-master require a toll," he explains cryptically. As Kazimir boards, Milkharem passes him two coins with a wink and says, "Never hurts to tip the Maze-Walker."

The boats are loaded. Captain Thiago del Magrina is at the bow of one, wearing a gleaming breastplate with a relief of a ship on the ocean. His smile is infectious and the laughter that rises from the minotaurs and men near him is genuine.

left-aligned image
At the front of the second boat is Vrakiras, bare-chested but armed with a large axe. His silver pelt ripples in the sea air, and rings adorn his horns where none had been. The bosun’s face is grim, and the strength he exudes settles over his crewmates like a mantle of assured victory.

Above, Arnau Sartori watches the operation solemnly from the railing. As the launches push away from the hull of their ship, the first mate snaps a salute to his captain. "Good hunting, captain. May the Lady cover you in her dark cloak."

del Magrina returns the salute and then starts giving orders to the boat crews. Oars are lowered and the launches turn their prows toward the hellish shoreline, with its broken skyline and orange glow of the pillars of fire that backlight the city.

Zenda’s swords draw admiring looks from several of the sailors. Surely one who wields such weapons will serve their cause well tonight.

Azar’s fierce countenance has a similar effect on the raiders. None have dared question her since she revealed her true form on deck. The nervous looks at the sorceress are quickly replaced with respectful nods, as her innate power becomes more and more apparent to all around her.

"We should not tarry in the streets!" The captain shouts to make himself heard on both boats. "Fouler things than Mharoti walk them now. Vrakiras will lead us to the necropolis, where we will enter the Maze and use its power to carry us into the heart of Chamiras, beneath the Palace of Palms." His tone is hopeful, but a Capleoni merchant is no fool. "Whatever happens this night, we send a message to the tyrants…and, perhaps more importantly, to the oppressed souls of this proud land." He finishes his speech with a grateful nod to Zenda and Azar, and an appreciative look toward the mighty Batoyangi.

The Sighing Lady has disappeared into the darkness behind. The coastline is close now. The launches rise on the swells as the surf breaks toward Gramvar’s coast. The docks jut out into the water ahead, burned and broken in places. Wooden pillars, snapped by fire and claw, rise from the choppy water like jagged teeth, waiting to devour them. The pillars of fire in the distance cast long fingers of flickering light between the abandoned stone buildings. And in the dark places, shadows move and shift with no moonlight to banish them.

Scraaaaaape

Something drags along the underside of the boat. Something is in the water, scraping the wood of the hull from beneath as the oars pull. Nervous looks pass among the crew, and Vrakiras looks to the captain.

The scraping continues the entire length of the boat, ceaselessly. The vibration of it echoes in the concavity of the boat. It reaches the stern, whatever is dragging along the hull. And then it stops as the boat passes beyond.

There is a brief moment of calm, where the only sound is the gentle splashing of the oars in the sea.

And then a large, furred hand reaches up from the black waters just behind the boat. Saltwater drips from it and it is limned in the orange glow of the fire. The hand grabs at the stern, clutching with sharp claws!

Another hand rises on the port side, grasping at the gunwale. Still another rises at the bow of the other boat! Soon, many clawed hands are reaching out of the water! A second hand at the stern takes hold, and the creature lifts itself from the water. The crewman at the rudder lets out a horrified gasp as horns, and then a rotting, eyeless, head of a bull rises from the surface! One hand releases its grip on the boat to reach for the man’s arm, grasping it in worm-ridden, muscular flesh!

All around both boats, dead Minotaurs grasp at hull and limb, lifting themselves from the water and rocking the rowboats dangerously! Their faces and limbs are hideously burned. Horns are broken from their skulls and flaps of flesh are missing where they had been wounded in life or gnawed upon in death!

Water laps in from both sides and the boats are pushed and pulled toward capsizing, threatening to dump their passengers into the water with the gurgling, lowing dead of Gramvar!

OOC
 

Last edited by 4eyedBadger; Oct 8th, 2021 at 08:52 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #109  
Old Oct 11th, 2021, 11:42 AM
Lazer's Avatar
Lazer Lazer is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 3rd, 2021
RPXP: 14016
Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer
Posts: 3,517
Azar's eyes glowed bright orange as the fire within her roared. She didn't want to control it any longer, she wanted to let it explode and consume everything, but not here, not now. She had to wait.

As the launch was lowered to the sea she sat near the captain, every muscle tensed, and tried to keep the fire in check. She saw nothing around her, all of her attention was focused inwards, so the looks of the crew at her scales and eyes went unheeded. She just sat and rocked backwards and forwards, sometimes muttering draconic curses to herself.

Some small part of her was aware that they were nearing the coast and the fire was growing ever harder to control in response. She wanted to shout at the oarsmen to hurry, but was afraid if she dropped control even that much she would incinerate them all. She started looking around, hoping to see something on the shore which she could let loose upon… and then the scraping started. Like everyone else, she looked down at the hull beneath her feet. Suddenly reality hit home. She was in a flimsy wooden vessel upon the dark sea. Her fire would do little if she were plunged into its icy depths. She shot a panicked look at del Magrina.

"Is it rocks?" she asked, although she could already see from his face that it couldn't be. Then the hands started pulling on the side and Azar had to grip her seat hard so as not to be flung from it. The dead minotaurs started hauling themselves up and Azar shook her head.

"No," she said to them, and her voice was quiet, almost calm. "No, I won't be denied my revenge."

She looked around, at the crew battering the undead beasts with the oars, at the captain yelling to direct them at this threat or that. What could she do to help? What could she ever do? What had the Empire kept her alive for? There was only one reason, only one thing which was of any use to anybody. She looked to her right as another hand exploded out of the waves and gripped the gunwale beside her, ruined maggoty muscles flexing to haul the rest of the creature up.

She licked her lips and then eased open the barrier that she used to control the flames inside of her. It took all of her concentration to allow only a small trickle of fire through as the great roiling mass of it struggled to get out. She pushed the rest back and allowed the trickle to spread down her right hand just as the head of the minotaur emerged from the sea, a gurgling scream exploding in salty spray from its lips. She could feel the flame burning inside her fist and, with a grim smile, she hurled it directly into the face of the minotaur, the flame searing its remaining flesh from the bone. It wasn't much, it wouldn't likely kill the beast, but it had covered its face with its arms and sunk back into the sea behind the launch.

 

 
__________________
Current status: The weeks are passing me by just now with few opportunities to post. I'll try to catch up but I'm happy for my characters to be DMPC'd this month if necessary. Sorry!
Reply With Quote
  #110  
Old Oct 13th, 2021, 03:13 AM
Vislands's Avatar
Vislands Vislands is online now
Blue Mage
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 5th, 2021
RPXP: 12946
Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands
Posts: 3,793
Let us become the jackal, and teach them to fear it.

Bato's usual vicious grin had disappeared as they began their final preparations to launch, replaced by a pensive stare often directed towards the dark shoreline that was almost more terrifying on the gnoll's long face. To become the Jackal...the memory that came flooding back was one he thought he had long discarded, a life that was now two lifetimes ago. Before his life of servitude and ring fighting and before his life now, a life of harried, but resolute freedom. Sa Majhuyoag...he had not thought of her in many moons, and the seed of melancholy he felt now in his stomach was why.

The Constrictor...no, Batoyangi, he hated to look back because then he could what was lost. And what might yet chase him. Laughing Nkishi. That screeching laugh that followed him over the horizon of sands. NO! He slammed a fist against the wood of the Sighing Lady, crushing that old terror with pain, drawing fearful glances from some nearby human sailors who whispered to each other and gave him space. But to them perhaps it was only a pre-battle ritual, the act of a brutal killing machine. He convinced himself they were right.

When it was time to depart, Bato was grateful for the distraction. He boarded the ship with the captain, joining Azar and sharing a comradely nod with Vrakiras before the large bull climbed aboard the opposite ship. It was simply a matter of weight - he and the bull were simply too large to ride the same small vessel, but there was something about del Magrina shining manner that was easeful to Bato in the moment and made him pleased to ride alongside him.

And then, they were off, slicing through the dark water. They made it some way before the dead appeared, clawing and pulling, threatening to knock them into the water. As the witch began to pelt the sea with fire, a bony hand reached up behind her and made to grab her little neck...when Bato reached forward, gripping the grasping limb with an expert hold that gave him the leverage to fling the thing away and into the sea with a splash. "Go!" He snarled to the captain, turning to smash the face of another encroaching undead with a repelling blow from his leather shield.


OOC
 
Reply With Quote
  #111  
Old Oct 15th, 2021, 02:31 PM
hafrogman's Avatar
hafrogman hafrogman is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 17639
hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman
Posts: 3,073
Zenda, Swordswoman of Ishadia
right-aligned image
As the preparations were underway, Zenda stalked across the deck of the Sighing Lady like a restless tigress. She could feel the sailors' eyes upon her. She was no stranger to the male gaze, but this was different. Now they were looking at her as a warrior. Something to admire and aspire to, someone to lead them.

As the landing party split between the two boats, Zenda hung back a moment to let the others make their choice. Azar and Batoyangi would travel with del Magrina. Very well, but it would probably be best to split the party between the two boats. Morale could only be boosted by giving each sailor the chance to be central to the story. Zenda headed for the second boat with Vrakiras, but paused just a moment as she noticed Azar's co-conspirator loitering behind. "You." She grabbed Kazimir by his shirt. "You're coming with us." Half dragging, she led the supposed elf to the second boat and climbed in after him.

Zenda perched carefully at the center of her seat, still not quite sure about all this water, but unwilling to show hesitancy in front of the crew. She caught Captain del Magrina's speech across the waves and let loose a full-throat war-whoop in response, letting his infectious courage push back against her hydrophobia, and none too soon. As the boat started to scrape and shudder below her, Zenda was suddenly very much aware of the precarious position they were in. This boat was their best shield against the waves... and what was rising up from them. The dead wanted free of the water... but Zenda was loathe to share her berth.

As the launch lurched violently under the watery assault, Zenda oddly calmed herself. The gentle, smooth rocking of the waves held a foreign, nauseatingly hypnotic quality she felt she would never adapt to, but she was much more adept at keeping her balance while under attack. With a little hop, she leapt up onto the seat, spinning in place, both blades flashing. The dead were numberless and no longer knew pain or fear. But even drowned minotaurs would find it difficult to overturn a boat without hands. She lashed out once, cutting through a rotting limb. A second time, sending chips of wood flying from the hull with a near miss as the boat pitched suddenly as a slab of undead beef tried to climb aboard. Zenda braced herself against the gunwale with one foot as she leaned backwards to dissuade him with another brutal slash. "You shall find no purchase here this night!" Blades glinting in reflected moonlight, and dripping with saltwater and ichor, Zenda danced amidst the tight confines of the boat, repelling all invaders.

OOC
 

 
__________________
Back. Slowly catching up.

Characters: Del CorganIris KetteringCaleb ShawDeirdre VenteuseYrena
ZendaSquire GainsboroBaruuk TalonfaceKonstantin LumynMarisol d'Arabeth

Last edited by hafrogman; Oct 15th, 2021 at 02:37 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #112  
Old Oct 21st, 2021, 04:25 PM
Strangemund's Avatar
Strangemund Strangemund is online now
Your Local Cryptid
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 6407
Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund
Posts: 1,270
Dancing in the moonlight...
right-aligned image
In hindsight, he should’ve just stayed behind on The Sighing Lady. Kazimir wasn’t a fighter, exactly. He knew that was misleading what with his chiseled looks and intimidating height, but the terrible truth was that he didn’t do so well when the heat was on. Heh.Didn’t know how to handle a blade that wasn’t his own, and the crossbow he carried on him was mostly for looks. Sometimes for pretty lasses, if he had the inkling they liked the dangerous, roguish types. But that was about it. The worst wounds he ever dealt were insults. The sort that left a fella tossing and turning in his bed decades down the road, all messed up inside from the insecurities Kazimir dragged out in broad daylight and mocked. That was the only violence he was capable of. And unfortunately for him, the undead weren’t too concerned about whether or not their mums really loved them.

It wasn’t a stretch of the truth to say he considered, for a very brief moment, slipping back down below and holing up somewhere quiet-like while the rest of the crew was in a tizzy getting ready for their big night. But before he could make a decision about the morality of breaking promises to people he liked, bloody Red showed up out of nowhere, grabbed him by the cuff of his collar, and said he was coming with her, fire and fury in her blinding emerald eyes. As if Kazimir needed an excuse to fall even further in love with that wickedly violent woman. "Ooh hoo hoo! You dinnae have to ask me twice, Red," crooned Kazimir, his smile almost criminal from how ecstatic he was to be led around by her like a dog on a leash. "I always feel safe wit you. Safe an’ sound ‘round yer murderous tendencies. Like a tornado o’ razor blades…" Except they were all on fire. Every single one. Mmnf.

Pushed down the launch, with Red two steps behind him, Kazimir made the foolish mistake of cutting his eyes back to her, eager to work his magic while he had the chance. "Ye know I meant it when I said it was better to take an elf wit you. Us elves are very talented, in many, many ways. Our dexterity, for example, is sumthin’ yer average bloke can’t match up wit. Nimble like the wind, able to bend in all manner o’ ways that’d make a serpent blush with envy. And ooh, our flexibility in the bedroom is downright--" It was hard to say whether or not Red meant to push Kazimir that roughly, after all, he was slowing down the line from his lackadaisical pace. But either way the elven bard stumbled right smack dab into Milkharem’s chest, face-first, as that wall of meat stopped him from taking an early dive into the bleak ocean waters.

Kazimir swore in a brutal tongue that surprisingly Red didn’t recognize. It was a harsh, coarse language that scraped his throat like an avalanche down a calm hill-side. Which fit the pained look on his face. From the solid thunk that followed his collision into Milkharem, he may as well have fallen down a mountain-side, especially with how swollen his nose looked. "Should Hune the Portal-master require a toll." Kazimir looked up from his bruised nose only to arch his brow when Milkharem gently placed two coins into his open palm. His brow furrowed together as he smoothed his thumb over the coin’s face, as he didn’t understand its purpose until Milkharem quipped with his usual slack-jawed grin. "Never hurts to tip the Maze-Walker."

"You soddin’ bastard," Kazimir said with the uttermost affection, and flipped the coin up to the tips of his fingers with a flourish that earned him a few drinks back in the day. He held it up between him and Milkharem, his grin just as devilish as his. "I am only takin’ it ta make you feel better. Nuttin’ else. That said dun expect me to give it back once we finish up our work. This lil’ puppy is gonna be tippin’ the barkeep once we are somewhere a lil’ more civilized." Still, Kazimir smiled down at the coins in his hand. A genuine thing that wasn’t smothered and covered up in his fancy words and prettier lies. "Ye better meet me at shore, lad. I’ll be real sore iffin’ ye leave me ta take all the glory!"

More than sore, in fact. Kazimir liked Milkharem. He liked him a lot, for a lad he met by chance. So he wasn’t quite ready to find the bull on the other side of eternity before Kazimir’s own time was up. Unthreading a string from his shirt, Kazimir wet its frayed tip, and needled it through the holes drilled into the eyes of the god that was carved into the coins. He looped it three times before he fastened his makeshift necklace around his neck, the coins clinking together gently as he stepped into his ship. The elf all smiles up until he noticed the queer look Red gave him, her smirk rubbing him all the wrong ways. "What? …What? S’good luck. Dun make it weird." And with a huff, he faced the dreary black waters of Gramvar, and remembered, oh yeah, he was going straight into the mouth of hell.

It was too quiet of a journey for his liking. Everyone too nervous to say a word to break the tension that blanketed the warm night air. Everyone but the good captain that is. del Magrina tried to keep spirits up. His confidence to be respected, even if Kazimir noted that he paid no mind to him at all when he finished his big speech, giving quiet nods to Kazimir’s captors, nods that spoke of respect, trust, and all that other garbage. Which was a little rude, if he was honest. Kazimir was here, too, wasn’t he? Didn’t he deserve an acknowledgement for his courage? Absolute horse--

Kazimir jumped the moment the first water-logged hand slammed its bloated fingers onto the ship’s side. For a split-second, everyone froze. Startled. Confused. Before a blind panic set in as more rotted hands of a dead minotaurs surfaced from the water like the souls that drifted in the river Styx. Red and the Wolf seemed almost ready for it. They were on their feet long before Kazimir could figure out if he ought to keep rowing or fight the claws that grasped blindly after him. The clash of blades. The roars of anger. The bursting light of fire from Azar’s fingertips. Far more quickly than Kazimir liked, the night fell to chaos.

But the good news was that he was also an agent of chaos. "Sod off, ye overripe sausage!" Kazimir cursed the hand that snaked around his leg. He kicked uselessly at the skinless skull of an undead minotaur that pulled itself halfway onto the ship, as it tried to tug Kazimir down into the depths with it. With a swear and a prayer, Kazimir stomped his other foot down hard on to its knuckles, and felt several somethings pop, before it's fingers loosened around his ankle. Kazimir shouted with glee, only to slip out of his seat when its bony digits snagged the collar of his boot. "No no no!" Kazimir scrambled untie his laces as he slid across the bottom of the boat faster than he could blink.

It was only by the skin of his teeth he got his boot off in time. The undead minotaur, and more unfortunately, his shoe, vanished below the water’s depths. Kazimir heaved a sigh of relief, and shot a tense-looking Red a look over his shoulder as he saluted with two fingers. "Like I said. Dexterity." Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of their troubles. It seemed the sea was purging all of Gramvar’s dead from its belly, and they were determined to add Kazimir and friends to their numbers. More undead pulled themself onto the ship, water pooling into the ship’s floor at a rate that promised this encounter would end in the world’s worst pool party.

"Keep the ship afloat!" Kazimir shouted, just as he helped two other sailors shove a minotaur back overboard. Kazimir bounced between both sides, easily dodging his way around flying elbows, gleaning blades, and one very angry Vrakiras as Kazimir used what little weight that he was his glorious elven body to counterbalance the rocking of the ship. For Azar, who sailed with del Magrina and Batoyangi, it looked ridiculous, as she saw a half barefoot, half shoed Kazimir dance madly above the restless dead.

And weirdly enough, it kinda looked like he'd done this before...



 
__________________
Status: *Dabs*
DMing: And the Devil Dances Beneath a Mosaic Sky
Characters: Thunder in the Morning - Harp Strum - Captain Tavosh - Kazimir

Last edited by Strangemund; Oct 21st, 2021 at 04:49 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #113  
Old Oct 22nd, 2021, 03:29 AM
4eyedBadger's Avatar
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 7570
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger
Posts: 2,224
GramvarCaptain del Magrina is withdrawing the blade of his sword from the skull of a minotaur corpse when Batoyangi calls out to him to keep them moving.

"The dead will keep coming!" he calls to the crews of both boats. "We cannot repel them all. Now pull! Work the oars and carry us beyond their reach."

As if a horrific thought has just occurred to him, the captain’s head swivels forward and he scans the water ahead. He slashes at another arm reaching up out of the ocean, hacking it off at the wrist. But the water beyond that looks calm, at least when compared with the churning froth of salt and blood that is the sea directly around his boats at this moment.

"Pull!" says Vrakiras. "And hold tight to those…" His command is cut off as his boat lurches sideways and rolls hard to the starboard! The waves begins to lap over the side, threatening to capsize them and dump them all into the deadly grasp of the watery grave. It is then that Kazimir leaps onto the port gunwale, providing just enough counterweight and a precious second for the rest of the crew to throw their weight that direction as well! The boat rights itself, and some of the bloody water sloshes beneath their boots. The crew don’t need to be told again. Minotaurs and men work the oars with abandon, recognizing speed across the water to be their only chance. Vrakiras grunts respectfully toward Kazimir, "You are fast. We are fortunate to have one so small and agile."

With the shock of the initial attack wearing off and some order restored by blades and quick action, the boats leave the grasping hands and rotting skulls behind and continue toward the shore.

"We would do well to avoid as much attention as possible," says del Magrina in hushed tones. He speaks to his crew in as low a voice as possible while still making himself heard on both boats. "Be as silent as you can. Speak only when necessary. And stay together."

The boats cut the water between the broken and burned docks, moving amongst the partially sunken ships in the harbor like a scavenger. Bypassing the docks completely, del Magrina brings the boats to shore on a slope of cut stone that leads up to the city. He steps quietly into the water at the bow before they run aground, and the crew in both boats follow his lead. Careful not to allow the wooden hulls to scrape the stone any more than absolutely necessary, they lift and carry the boats out of the water before setting them down.

Taking a brief moment to survey their surroundings, the raiders set off into the ruins of Gramvar, Vrakiras at the lead. The silver bull seems confident in his direction, leading their party in the shadows of destroyed buildings and skirting wide plazas as he guides them further south, toward the distant pillars of fire.

The humans and minotaurs of The Sighing Lady acquit themselves well, moving nearly as silently as the stealthy Azar. A few confident smiles among the younger crewmen are a testament to how well the night is starting.

But that is when they see the first of the walking dead. Vrakiras is about to lead them across an avenue of broken and blackened cobblestone, when Azar spots the shapes moving at the far end of the street. She grabs Vrakiras by the pelt, directing his attention at the shambling figures.

The bull steps back, then peers around a fallen rooftop of charcoaled wood. Quickly, he ducks back and gestures for the party to hide themselves.

The approaching footsteps can be heard before their owners are seen. An uneven gait of several pairs of hooves on stone grows louder, but still dulled by the broken wood and light mists settling over the city. Stretching shadows in the orange light of the distant fires precede them, and then the stumbling, mindless forms of seven decaying minotaurs crosses the alleyway that holds the raiding party.

Scarcely daring to breathe, del Magrina and his crew watch with wide eyes, hands on their weapons. If one of the dead but turns their heads to the side…

Then they are past, leaving only the stench of rot in their wake. Vrakiras waits for another minute before moving, giving Azar a grateful clap on the shoulder before leading them across the avenue to the alley on the far side.

Progress is slow, staying clear of the wide open spaces and picking their way through narrow, twisting alleys that are the hallmark of any city of the bull folk. To make matters worse, several of the collapsed buildings block their passage, forcing Vrakiras to double back and find another way.

And then there are the dead. The further south they go, the more frequently the shadows move with a shambling human or minotaur corpse. Groups of them wander the streets, searching for flesh and digging into the rubble to find true corpses to feast upon. Rats are everywhere here, squeaking and scurrying across their path as they are startled away from some meal of offal that the larger scavengers have missed. Only Skrihn Vat seems to pay them no heed.

The trip is unpleasant, and none of the crew are smiling now. Old ruddy-nosed Mister Mendogen nods encouragement at a young female sailor in their party as they wait in the shadows for Vrakiras to lead them across another street.

After two hours of skulking through the shadows and death of Gramvar, Vrakiras signals a halt. Setting Skrihn to keep a lookout, he returns to report to del Magrina, Zenda and Azar. "We are nearly there," he says, his deep voice contrasting with his attempt at a whisper. "Down that street is the entrance to the necropolis."

Just then, a terrible roar rises up from the broken buildings ahead, directly where Vrakiras is pointing! Nothing in nature can make a sound like that. It is as though all the torment and pain and rage of Gramvar are contained in that bellow, and the affect is immediate. The bosun’s bovine eyes go wide and the other minotaurs and crewmen freeze, holding completely still!

Del Magrina draws his sword. "Then we go that way," he says, nodding toward where Vrakiras is still pointing. Looking to Zenda for confirmation, he adds, "We didn’t think this would be a bloodless night, did we?" Then he gets to work, easing back into the role of a leader. "Mister Vat, you stay here with the crew. We’re going to have a look ahead." He looks to Zenda, Azar, Bato, Vrakiras, Kaz, and Milkherem, but he issues no orders to them. He just sets out across the alley and ducks through a broken wall into a dark building.

Nae’laa looks at Zenda and unspoken acknowledgment passes between them. Without a word, the fiery jinnborn wizard settles in with Skrihn Vat to watch their backs as the rest of them follow the captain into the building.

The roar breaks the silence of the dark city again! It is close, and even when it stops, the sound echoes in the ears of the living trespassers to this monumental grave.

A quick scan of the building interior reveals it to be empty. Broken pieces of the ceiling litter the floor and the walls are crumbled away in places. Vrakiras places himself to guard an opening to the right, but points up the main street to their left to indicate where they must go.

Looking out onto that street, Batoyangi sees movement in the dark, and hears the scuffling of bone on stone and the dragging of metal. Emerging from the shadows of a side street is a collection of bones in the shape of a humanoid, with two large horns protruding from the skull!

Vrakiras indicates to them all that he sees another of the dead from his vantage as well.

ROOOOAAAAARR!

Batoyangi’s eyes are instantly pulled further down the street to where the horrible cry rises! There, at the end of the avenue, standing in front of their destination, is the largest minotaur the gnoll has ever seen! Fully eleven feet tall, with horns longer than Bato’s own arm, the massive bull is covered in the pallid green flesh of death! But the face…the face has been flensed to the skull! And from that mask of bone, red points of light scan the night, seemingly looking straight toward where Bato and his companions are hiding!

"Lady be merciful," Milkherem breathes under his breath. "A lost one." He looks toward Kazimir with terror in his eyes! "They can sense the approach of the living."

Somberly, del Magrina looks to the company. "Any ideas?"



battle map

OOC
 
Reply With Quote
  #114  
Old Oct 22nd, 2021, 01:49 PM
Strangemund's Avatar
Strangemund Strangemund is online now
Your Local Cryptid
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 6407
Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund Strangemund
Posts: 1,270
The ole razzle-dazzle...
right-aligned image
Weren’t he the ugly one, eh. Kazimir eyeballed the so-called Lost One from the safety of Milkharem’s backside, and decided right quick he didn’t like the look of that bonehead. Which truth be told, that thing’s mum probably didn’t either if he looked half as bad as that when he was still alive and kicking. Loki pity that woman, too, for it wasn’t only his face that was beastly, but his size surely had the midwife fainting at his birth. Kazimir glanced back at Vrakiras, then back at the Lost One, before he nudged Batoyangi, saying in the hissing language of the olde scaled gods. "Somebody’s been eatin’ his wheaties…" as he gestured to the eleven foot tall monstrosity that patrolled the streets ahead.

del Magrina was in less high spirits about the whole situation. That fiery confidence he sported at port was now a flickering ember at the first sign of trouble. Terrible way to be that, especially since this was his bright idea in the first place. "Dun fret yer pretty face, captain," whispered Kazimir lowly, a cocky grin splayed across his squinty face as he rolled his shoulders back like he was getting ready for a fight. "Ole Kazimir’s got a trick worth tryin’. But I’ll need a lil’ assistance from my partner-in-crime." That’s when he looked at Azar, beckoning her forward with a wave of his blue hand, and a wink.

"Stay right next to me fer a second…" urged Kazimir, as he flexed his fingers out in front of him, and shook the tension free from his wrists. Then Kazimir cocked his head to the right, gazing hard at the rubbled home to his left, studying what few walls remained upright before he gave an approving nod. "Alright. A lil’ help from the locals…" Kazimir bent down and scooped up a handful of ash, rubbing it between his palms until grey coated his skin. Then with a playful smile, he leaned over to Azar while his hands were cupped close, pretending as if he were showing her a secret as he parted them open juuuust enough for her to peer in. "...now, blow."

Kazimir winced as Azar looked like she was seconds away from hitting/stabbing him, the elven man quickly reassuring in hushed voices. "Hey hey hey! S’not a joke! Yer the shapeshifter. Yer perfect for the ole…" With an impish grin, he whispered in her ear, letting her in on his dirty secret. "...illusion magic, eh? Get me?" Eyes twinkling, he offered her his hands again, and when Azar blew into his cupped palms, an ominous wind blew over them.

Kazimir inched forward, slowly and quietly, and brought his cupped palms to his lips. Inhaling a deep, long breath, he blew. And a terrible, frightful scream of a woman rang out in the dark, lonely night, screaming from the shadows that blanketed the house Kazimir picked for his elven tricks.

Kazimir brought his hands down with a smile, but then he paused, holding two fingers up as he urged the others to wait and see if the Lost One took the bait.



 
__________________
Status: *Dabs*
DMing: And the Devil Dances Beneath a Mosaic Sky
Characters: Thunder in the Morning - Harp Strum - Captain Tavosh - Kazimir

Last edited by Strangemund; Oct 22nd, 2021 at 02:38 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #115  
Old Oct 22nd, 2021, 02:53 PM
4eyedBadger's Avatar
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 7570
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger
Posts: 2,224
Gramvar streetsThe shrill scream pierces the misty night air! The affect on the dead minotaurs is immediately apparent. The skeleton closest to the building from which the sound emanated hefts his heavy axe with his thick bones and walks into the building, disappearing from the view of the adventurous group huddled in the abandoned house.

Vrakiras ducks back from the opening in the wall where he had been peering out. He gestures to del Magrina and the others that the other skeleton is moving toward the sound as well along the wall of their hiding place. Silently they listen, and they can all hear the sound of a dull axe being dragged along the cobblestones mere feet away. The clicking of shifting bones match the heavy hoof falls as it nears a doorway in the wall without a door. In mere seconds, the skeleton will pass by that door and have a full view of all of them!

At the end of the avenue, Bato can see the red points of light in the Lost One’s eye sockets scanning the street. The dead behemoth’s head had quickly looked toward the sound of the scream just as the skeleton’s had. But this one seemed more cautious, stepping forward slowly, almost confusedly. The Lost One stops in the middle of the street and then turns his great, horned head toward the house where Bato and his friends hide!

battle map

OOC
 
Reply With Quote
  #116  
Old Oct 24th, 2021, 01:44 AM
Vislands's Avatar
Vislands Vislands is online now
Blue Mage
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 5th, 2021
RPXP: 12946
Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands Vislands
Posts: 3,793
Batoyangi crouched in the ruins of the abandoned home, grimly taking in the massive shambling shape, a so-called lost one, the bones of its thighs, bare of muscle, still thicker by a good measure than any of Bato's limbs. It stood directly in their path to the necropolis, along with the two smaller, but still dangerous minotaur skeletons that haunted the shadows near by. Watching the dead wander when they could not sense the living nearby, the listless dragging walk, the emptiness. Some of them stood still as stone, like dolls. As they'd snuck through the night time streets, he'd seen such in the distance. Still like statues.

It creeped the gnoll gladiator out, but also infuriated him. Each shape he saw dragging itself along, just around some crumbling street corner made his jaw clench. What a repulsive existence. Even monsters roamed and fought, fed and bred. He heard some religious screeds against the abomination of the undead, but until now, he never understood what made them so...unnatural. And it was the empire that had done this to them. His fists clenched.

"The great Batoyangi has no need of wheaties", He growled in return to Kaz's remarks, though there was a nervous yip that rolled outward from deep in the gnoll's chest. "Only strength. When the big one comes, I will take care of it."

But first, the little ones. The elf cajoled the witch, in his usual extravagant manner, to cast a spell, summoning a fell breeze with Azar's breath that became a distant scream. The room went tense, every ear and eye straining to see how the undead residents of Gramvar reacted. The minotaurs seemed to take the bait, but the lost one...ah, that one had a dark intelligence and Bato bared his teeth as he saw the dark red points of its eyes point in their direction. He had to act now, or they'd risk losing the advantage of their stealth.

"I...g-g-goorrrrrrrr-!" Bato fell forward unto his hand and knees, the sound of his breath becoming deeper and wetter, as though coming from the depths of a dark cavern, wisps of dank condensation curling up and away from his downcast face. The muscles of the gnoll's back rippled and, in the obscuring dark of the ruined home, his entire torso seemed to grow broader. There is a quiet tearing sound as the skin of his back split down the center, revealing a shiny dark segmented chitin that ran from the base of his spine to the nape of the back of his neck, the chitin pulling up and out as if his spine itself were exiting his body, pulling up and out until from behind the gnoll curled a massive scorpion's tail of a brown so dark it was nearly black. Bato growled and clawed against the floor, raising to show a twisted expression, the pain passing but an overwhelming lust for violence flooding in.

Without another word, Bato leaped out into the streets, dashing past one of the living minotaur companions and rounding the corner with terrifying speed. The skeleton had no time to react as the Constrictor leapt forward, grabbing its throat with his free hand and then, with Adarga, slamming it downward with enough brute force to drive the large minotaur to its knees, held in the gladiator's iron grip. Bato's spine-tail rose behind him threatening, as his deep huffing breaths threw spitting onto the empty grinning skull of his enemy.

There was one more monster in Gramvar tonight.


OOC
 
Reply With Quote
  #117  
Old Nov 1st, 2021, 11:15 AM
Lazer's Avatar
Lazer Lazer is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 3rd, 2021
RPXP: 14016
Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer Lazer
Posts: 3,517
The journey through the blackened remains of Gramvar gave Azar plenty of time to think, and mostly it was the past that she thought about. Few of the buildings or streets here seemed familiar, ruined as they had been by the attack, but she couldn't help but try to imagine the city as it had been. Several times she stopped, sure that she had found some familiar landmark; could that pile of rubble be the fountain which had graced the market square where she had awaited her first assignation with Rafolo? She had sat with her feet in the waters as the magically animated streams played back and forth over the marble whilst the invigorating scent of spiced almonds carried on the breeze. Or… was this great heap of masonry be the warehouse where she had stored the goods which she had been arranging for Sultana Casmara? Rafolo and his minotaur friend Marko had surprised her here, hiding underneath a cart which had brought supplies in only to spring out on her when everyone else had gone. They had been lucky that Azar had heard their muffled grunting laughter or she would have fried them on the spot, as it was she had to act shocked and she had perhaps overdone it, locking herself in the office and refusing to come out for tens of minutes. The abashed look on Rafolo's face when she did eventually re-emerge, however, was well worth the wait. Marko, on the other hand, just laughed and laughed, as though the joke couldn't have gone any better.

Such thoughts still swirled in her mind as the small band reached the entrance to the necropolis. Undead minotaurs prowled the streets as though somehow aware that people would seek to enter. Just their luck. Azar wondered briefly if any of them were Marko. Would she even be able to tell if it was? She doubted it, she would be hard pressed to identify him even if she found him alive, unless he were laughing. She would never forget that booming laugh.

She was brought abruptly back to the present by Kazimir, who had asked her to participate in some showy trick that he had picked up somewhere… which as it turned out was quite effective, luring one of the minotaurs off in the wrong direction.

"I'm not saying that I'm impressed," she whispered to the self-proclaimed elf, "but it is good to see that you can be of some use."

Suddenly Batoyangi was writhing, his form changing as a tail seemed to rip itself from his living body. She took a step back in revulsion, but he was soon up and away, grappling the other of the smaller undead minotaurs. It appeared that their stealthy approach was at an end, so they had to act decisively now or the entire undead population of the city would be upon them!

She sprang out of their hiding place hot on the heels of the gnoll, the fire already leaping to her hand even as she did so. Batoyangi was pushing the minotaur to the floor, giving Azar an easy opening, one that she was only too happy to take. Burning these godless creatures would do little to sate her anger, but it felt good to be taking action at least.

 

 
__________________
Current status: The weeks are passing me by just now with few opportunities to post. I'll try to catch up but I'm happy for my characters to be DMPC'd this month if necessary. Sorry!

Last edited by Lazer; Nov 1st, 2021 at 11:17 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #118  
Old Nov 2nd, 2021, 05:27 PM
hafrogman's Avatar
hafrogman hafrogman is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 17639
hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman hafrogman
Posts: 3,073
Zenda, Swordswoman of Ishadia
right-aligned image
Zenda moved silently through the deserted streets of Gramvar... or at least as silently as she could. It might seem a little odd that the Ishadian had little experience sneaking and skulking, given her penchant for espionage... But she had always found that trying to be unseen was the best way to be spotted. If instead you simply acted like you belonged and knew where you were going... all too often, eyes would simply slide over you, noticing nothing untoward. Of course, none of this mattered in the slightest while trying to avoid the attentions of the living dead. Thus, Zenda was forced to rely on her innate grace as she joined the others picking their way through the ruined city. She acknowledged del Magrina's counsel and kept her thoughts and words to herself.

They pulled up short with the appearance of the Lost One and the lesser monsters. The warrior woman watched with some interest as Kazamir managed to lure one of the dead away. Perhaps he had been right. The soddin' "elf" had proved some use after all. But that still left two more to deal with, one of them far larger than she particularly wanted to meet on this particular dark night... or any other. Before she could formulate a plan, Bato had taken matters into his own hands... paws. As the Constrictor leapt out to engage the closest skeleton, Azar's magic briefly flared, lighting up the alleyway and outlining the struggle between dead minotaur and living gnoll.

It semed like Batoyangi's unfailing might would prove more than equal to taking on his osseous opponent, but Zenda had no interest in a fair fight. As soon as Azar's fire struck home, Zenda followed up, her twin swords gleaming dully in the night, hoping to inflict as much damage as possible before the Lost One could involve itself in the fight.

OOC
 

 
__________________
Back. Slowly catching up.

Characters: Del CorganIris KetteringCaleb ShawDeirdre VenteuseYrena
ZendaSquire GainsboroBaruuk TalonfaceKonstantin LumynMarisol d'Arabeth

Last edited by hafrogman; Nov 2nd, 2021 at 05:28 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #119  
Old Nov 3rd, 2021, 04:12 AM
4eyedBadger's Avatar
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 7570
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger
Posts: 2,224
The Streets of Gramvar
left-aligned image
The fleshless bones of the minotaur skeleton writhe in Bato’s vice-like grip! A streak of fire from behind singes the pelt on the mighty gnoll’s shoulder, but the brunt of the fiery mote impacts the undead thing in his grasp, blackening bone to ash. The wave of heat washes over Batoyangi, even as Zenda steps from the darkness, breaking bones with her whirling blades, severing arm and rib like training sticks and cracking one of the thick bovine horns.

From within their momentary headquarters del Magrina hears the hooves of the struggling abomination crash into the wooden walls again and again, as the skeleton’s animating force is leached from it! Even in the dim light, Kazimir can see the flash of the captain’s teeth as his lips curl into a smile.

"With me!" he calls to Vrakiras and Milkharem. The two great bulls stamp their hooved feet in anticipation, their muscular torsos heaving as their breath comes deep and fast!

Kaz looks to his new friend, watching as the familiar, mischievous eyes and smiling snout take on a bestial rage!

And then del Magrina is gone, racing out the north door on Zenda’s heels! But where she turned right, he turns left, toward the main street and the terrible, braying cry of the Lost One!

With steam billowing from their wet hot muzzles, Vrakiras and Milkherem charge after him, greataxes raised in clenched fists!

battle map

OOC
 
Reply With Quote
  #120  
Old Nov 4th, 2021, 04:51 AM
4eyedBadger's Avatar
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger is offline
Community Supporter
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 4th, 2021
RPXP: 7570
4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger 4eyedBadger
Posts: 2,224
Gramvar
left-aligned image
The sounds of battle are unmistakable now in the misty darkness of Gramvar’s streets.

In the small alley, Bato struggles to keep hold of the burned and broken skeleton in his powerful arms. To his surprise, the undead bull suddenly ceases its thrashing. It does not fall still, however, and the raging gnoll can hear the clacking of its bones. Too late, he can feel the distant burn of pain. Looking down, he realizes the creature is pushing the heavy, curved blade of its axe into Bato’s stomach, cutting him deeply!

In the wide avenue beyond, the towering lost one looks down at the human del Magrina and his flanking minotaur crewmen, Vrakiras and Milkherem. The living bulls bellow a bestial challenge, wordless but carrying a primal meaning!

The lost one throws back his head, opening his fleshless mouth and releases a terrible cry into the night! Its own undead anguish and hatred fill the ears of the living, and the huge, rotting beast-man strides forward toward his challengers! He raises a large axe that seems to glint in the non-existent moonlight, casting its own cold, silvery light on the full pelt of the lost one.

Vrakiras, Milkherem, and their captain brace themselves, raising their weapons and preparing to meet the charge.

But just then, through the crumbling walls of the building to the west, the second skeletal bull rushes out into the street, axe held high! It meets Milkherem, who turns and brings his greataxe down in a crushing arc that sunders bone from clavicle to pelvis, blowing through ribs along the way!

But the skeleton does not stop! It lunges forward and makes a crossbody swipe with its axe that catches Milkherem in the thigh, chopping into the large muscle! Blood sprays across the dark cobblestone, steaming in the cool night air.

Down the block, Nae’laa can hear moaning from the streets they passed moments before. Shapes emerge from the alleys and out from behind broken buildings. Shambling, humanoid shapes. Zombies! Several of them have been attracted by the noise of battle, the scent of blood, and the cries of the living! Skrihn Vat raises his crossbow and let’s loose a bolt, which buries itself in the eye socket of a human woman’s walking corpse. The other crewmen and women of The Sighing Lady draw knives and cudgels and crossbows, preparing to defend the rear of their main party.

"We can handle these!" the ratfolk rogue squeaks loudly to Nae’laa. "Help the others."

battle map

OOC
 
Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off



All times are GMT -4. The time now is 10:40 AM.
Skin by Birched, making use of original art by paiute.(© 2009-2012)


RPG Crossing, Copyright ©2003 - 2021, RPG Crossing Inc; powered by vBulletin, Copyright ©2000 - 2021, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd. Template-Modifications by TMB