| Kiira’Tiru; The Crystalline Tower | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 8 2006, 07:48 PM (3,065 Views) | |
| eocine | Dec 3 2006, 12:32 PM Post #201 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Karosin had stepped back as Fade had swung the door open ready for virtually anything… Anything other than the sudden stink of boggy swampland, and a sudden influx of flies buzzing around his head. Ignoring the insectoid vermin he slipped quietly though the door, noting the blanket of fog that reached virtually up to his waist. Turning his head he looked towards the others, some of whom were far shorter than he was, and noted exactly how much of them was concealed by the fog. And more than that how easily one could disappear from view without it being easily noticed… That in mind he drifted away towards Llana, taking up a position behind her so that he could easily keep an eye on her as they passed through the foggy barrier. Soon they reached a small slope, and he waited until she had reached the top before following her up, eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary. One thing that could be noticed was that the Elementals that Greg and Skafloc had brought through with them shifted the mists for a moment, but it then virtually instantly reformed in exactly the same place. He assumed it would have to be magical in some way, for it was clearly not a natural phenomenon. Given his occupation he was well aware of what the after effects of death looked like, and frankly he could see it all around, from the brown patches on the grass, to the buzzing flies and even the blood encrusted blades. Many beings had died here, and judging from the picture on the easel, not in the best of ways either. As he moved around the raised area he slid both his blades into his hands, something felt off-kilter here, and being prepared for whatever may happen seemed to be the smartest choice… |
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| Pamela | Dec 3 2006, 01:26 PM Post #202 |
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Molly
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Llana had heard the werewolf’s warning but hadn’t fully registered it until the door opened. She looked appraisingly in his direction; the gift of scent was a userful one that wasn’t familiarly used in most of her previous missions. She watched cautiously as the fog drifted out of the ‘room’ and into the hall, and smiled gratefully when Karosin joined her in entering the latest, strange room. Her attention quickly turned away from the ugly dissecting tables and the books that probably recorded their previous victims. What concerned her now was the presence of the two creatures. They were still there, and it took her a few seconds to track their locations. The largest aura was about a hundred yards away in the swamp. What concerned her was the relative proximity of the second…which was located at the near foot of the slope, where no creature was discernable. “There’s something there,” she warned. “Either invisible, transformed or…” she recalled that favoured trick of the vampire, “Gaseous…” |
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| eocine | Dec 3 2006, 08:23 PM Post #203 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Given some of the horrors that Anaara had grown up seeing in the Drow city that she called home there was nothing in particular about the setting that caused her any real horror. Her disgust at the place, so far removed from the elegance to which she was accustomed, more than made up for that in her eyes… Having been given the boots Fade originally wore at least her feet were not subjected to the boggy grassland, but that was only some small consolation as she looked up at the halo of flies that she seemed to have developed. Then there was the stench of the rotting vegetation and the vast abundance of strange sounds and stagnant pools of rotting blood, that squelched underfoot and released a filthy stink redolent of death every time that they were stepped on. The presence of maggots caused her finally to give voice to her disgust, “filth everywhere, so much for you surfacers and your idea’s of taste.” Her voice dripped loathing, and well it might, for this was far removed from the Drow’s methods of magical experimentation. Of course there was blood, but the slaves cleaned it up well, and if they failed to do so they knew that it could easily be their own blood on the floor, and that knowledge tended to focus the mind on the idea of keeping things clean. She’d been looking at the drawing on the board carefully when Llana spoke, impressed despite herself with the artists work and the anatomical detail. At the Sunite Priestess’ words though she took several paces away from the easel and towards the slope, looking down into the morass of mists. “Step forth night-stalker”, she commanded towards the mists, with a tone that suggested that she was used to being listened to. |
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| eocine | Dec 3 2006, 08:44 PM Post #204 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Caine’s olfactory senses were screaming at him as he moved out into the glorified swamp, his clawed hand came up to bat at the innumerable insects, but luckily for the lycanthrope what his thick pelt didn’t keep away his magically toughened skin did. His eyes scanned the more distant areas for signs of an impending attack, but nothing seemed to be overly dangerous at the time being. As they waded through the misty area he was occasionally aware that his feet landed upon something harder than the normal mud and earth, but paid it all little enough mind, surely it was just stone. He decreed early that his nose would prove to be of little value here, it wasn’t that he couldn’t smell anything, rather that he could smell far too much to make sense of it all. Lolloping forwards up the bank the werewolf span to and fro in case of an attack, ignoring the evidence of the laboratory, having no interest in such things. Even the varied instruments of dissection and experimentation held little sway, for he had seen enough cutting implements to last him a lifetime, and even more up-close than were these ones. Never again… A vampire?! The lycanthrope’s lips curled back into a snarl at Llana’s words and he sprinted across to the brow of the small hillock, unable to stop himself from salivating at the prospect of a kill to be made, especially against a variety of creature that had never had any regard for his own. Show yourself… Hissed Caine internally, resisting the urge to howl a challenge and fling himself into the mists… |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 3 2006, 09:08 PM Post #205 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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On approaching the area of gruesome experimentation, Fade near reeled at the sight - and the stench - although not because it appalled her; once again, as in the temple where they had fought the zombies, she felt the all too familiar conflict of her elven and succubi heritages - although this time it was worse - much worse. The reek of corruption, blood and decay was everywhere - she couldn't escape it. The elf in her was indeed revolted to the pit of her stomach, but to the succubus, the miasma of corruption was as beguiling as the scent of newly picked roses. Before she could even attempt to stop herself, she had closed her eyes and was inhaling deeply. "Elf... " she growled "Had elf here... female." she grinned. "Ripe..." she then shuddered, gagged and whirled away from the table. Breathing hard, the demonfae moved away from the others, trying desperately to keep the succubus on a short leash. This was the problem when you vowed to give up everything that had formerly taken for granted - in the past, she would only have felt a tiny itch, if that, when faced with a place like this - such things were so commonplace they didn't bother you. But she had kept a close, personal stranglehold on the demon for a while now, and in places like this it strained for release; she knew it made her irritable, irrational and irresponsible, but she reckoned that was a cheap pay-off for not being an unbalanced psychopathic sadist. What she needed was something to focus on; something to fight, something she could use to satiate the demon. Thankfully, she heard Llana and Anaara's words through a jumble of long-denied impulses and self-forbidden desires and allowed herself an unsettling grin that had nothing to do with humour as she looked up towards the mists. "Indeed... show yourself" |
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| Mwa13 | Dec 4 2006, 09:40 AM Post #206 |
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Crazy webslinger
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Jonas walked close behind Karosin through the doorway, not taking any notice of the insects flying around his head. He looked about the room and shook his head. Who in their minds would put a swamp inside the house? If not for research, then what for? He just couldn't understand the minds of researchers. He followed the others to the tables and looked around in disgust, but also with interest. He checked the labels on the bottles of earth and hmphed to himself. "Someone really has been around, a planewalker for sure..." he said quietly to himself, tinking on the glass bottle with the label 'Baator' with his finger nail. He walked over to the butching table and grabbed one of the delicate feathers, staring at it. He turned it slowly in his hand, examining it, wondering what sort of bird would hold such a feather. He didn't know much of fauna, he knew more of monsters, since those were the kind he was used to seeing. Everything around there was disgusting and horrible, but it was also somewhat fascinating to Jonas. The interest showed on his face as he kept glancing around. His 'expedition' was interrupted though when he heard Llana, the Drow and then Fade speak up. Jonas put the feather he had in his hands inside his shirt, as a reflex, and grabbed his daggers from his sides, twirling them in his fingers as he always did when he was ready for battle. |
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| Castamir | Dec 4 2006, 11:15 AM Post #207 |
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Native
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Skafloc looked at the werewolf and nodded his acknowledgment of the information. The knowledge meant that when the door opened and he entered he was at least prepared, and not particularly put off by his surroundings. The stench was awful, truly, and the flies were worse but the Barbarian was unlikely to be put off by such things and simply ignored them, pausing to bat them away only when they went in his eyes. He held Brainbiter ready as he moved around the room. Once again letting the others do their searches and examine the details of the books and equipment while he kept his eyes open for anything that might need killing. From the looks of things a lot had already been killed in here, and he figured that if they did have to battle anything the chances were it was already going to have died once. At the mention of the word vampire he spat, and smiled just slightly, the prospect of facing a more powerful enemy exciting the warrior. He'd faced vampires before, and had found them slipperly customers, in fact he'd done more than faced them, but that was in the past, and he'd been very drunk.. He stopped his circling of the immediate area and raised his hand to attract attention, speaking in a low voice. "Don't know about Vampires, but there's definitely something else here too. Tracks, not exactly hard to miss, it's something big." he looked hard in the direction the tracks went off in, trying to surmise more about the creature by the shape of the prints and whether it walked on two legs or four, allowing the others to look out for any vampiric threat. |
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| eocine | Dec 4 2006, 08:39 PM Post #208 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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There was a pause, and the mists seemed to swirl and drift, swelling upwards slightly and shuddering. Suddenly from the dead center of the foggy morass there was a slight chuckle, and the mists began to boil upwards frantically, in the midst of this display a humanoid shadow formed, and as the mists settled they could see the a figure standing upright and with his arms folded tightly across his chest… The vampire, if that’s truly what it was, had clearly been Elven during his life, the short posture and general sense of slenderness told that story. But his facial features tended towards the feral, skin drawn even more tightly across his bones, and eyes glowing red in the shadows of the necromancy laboratory. Perfect blonde hair was pulled back into a plaited ponytail, and secured with a single black ribbon, hanging all the way down to the small of his back. Across his forehead a silvery band rested, and he wore a black cloak, though had left the hood back for the time being. The rest of his clothing was spotlessly white, and appeared to be flawlessly maintained and untouched by any of the dirt or swamp water that abounded in the area… “As you desire…” If his appearance told that he had once been an Elf, his voice gave no such clues, having a harsh and metallic edge, and cirously a slight gargle with every word, as if the back of his throat were filled with something fluid, “though I suggest that you learn some manners.” He looked carefully over the party, as if gauging their strength, his eyes lingering on Jonas and Fade as the two beings with planar blood, and finally on Llana, who still presented the appearance of being from a celestial plane. “I have to say though that I appreciate your coming here,” continued the vampire conversationally, “It can be tiresome to hunt for test subjects all the time… All the better when they come to me and save me the trouble.” At this he raised his hands out to either side of himself, “to me my minions, there is to be blood and knowledge both from this night’s work…” No sooner had his words finished than a handsome young human male appeared by his right hand side, his appearance and skin tone suggestive of the southern reaches, as were his clothes, that seemed to be antiquated in style and hinted at funerary shrouds and death. To the left of the vampire another figure appeared, this one though a hideous corruption of humanity, virtually entirely skeletal, other than a mass of twisting intestinal coils and ichor, and a tongue that waved back and forth frantically, it’s spiny end extending more than two feet from its bare-boned jaws. Curiously this foul creature wore the remains of leather armor, and held in one of its hands a sword gleamed in the dime light. Finally and perhaps most bizarrely a hulking humanoid shape rose from the mist covered earth, and turned towards them, drawing back necrotic lips that exposed massive teeth… Huge musculature clung with remarkable persistence to the monsters bones, rotted and torn as the muscles were, with patches that the skin and fur that would normally cover the beast having been town away and exposing the green-grey bulk beneath… Seeing an undead dire-monkey is perhaps not one of the more typical sights that one could expect to see… The vampire smiled towards the party, and instantly went into a spell casting, pulling a small bone from a pouch around his waist… The undead’s crimson eyes settled on Karosin, and he hissed a few arcane words before snapping the bone. No sooner had the bone broken than a trio of ghostly goblins materialized about the assassin, each wielding oversized hammers that they swung towards him, one aiming for his ribs, another his shoulder and the final one towards his knee. Whilst this was happening the undead ape started to step from side to side frantically and scream at the heavens, though there was a curious assertiveness t these movements, and moments later, before the truth of the spectacle had really unfolded hard bony plates started sprouting from the creature’s skin. The horrid creature clad in the rotting remains of leather armor simply ducked away beneath the cloud of fog and the human male raised his own hands into the air to begin his own spell, praying to Velsharoon for his grace as he did so… From the mists three stumbling Ghasts emerged and started to stumble towards the party, dead eyes glassy above their hungry jaws… |
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| eocine | Dec 4 2006, 10:10 PM Post #209 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Karosin watched with a faintly weary expression on his face as first the vampire, and then his companions appeared. Boasting meant little in moments like this except on the occasions when it served to intimidate opponents, and that was generally done more effectively through actions than words. Still you had to respect the confidence of someone prepared to speak before their group rather than attempting to blindside them whilst they were engaged in something else. Yes, he respected the vampire’s confidence. But thought that the undead freak must have suffered from brain-death of some sort rather than just undeath. The freakishly ugly undead was actually a form that he was familiar with, for Mohrg’s occasionally found work in certain assassin’s guilds as they were well suited to the task. Of course it was only certain types of guilds that would be willing to allow such a monster to be considered acceptable for entrance, but then there were some people out there prepared to do virtually anything if it paid enough. I would know… When the spell casting begin he was already in motion, vaulting over the blood spattered and stinking autopsy table to allow himself to attempt to outflank the small group that faced them. The original plan had been to introduce the vampire to the business end of shadow-secui, but unfortunately for Karosin the vampire was able to act first… The goblin-shadows coalesced around him, and, were he a less experienced combatant he may well have been assured by the fact that they verged on the transparent, but he wasn’t so naive. Nor was he foolish enough to think that the magical attack was avoidable, and thus he simply had to brace himself for the effect. And the effect was agony. The three hammers all crashed into him, dropping him to one knee as the other was blown out from beneath him, then feeling blood spring up inside his mouth as another hammer crashed into his ribs, and finally the third blow thudded into his shoulder, and he felt the bone grinding and crushing the cartilage in the socket. It was not a promising start to the battle. |
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| eocine | Dec 4 2006, 10:27 PM Post #210 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As the undead emerged Caine’s heart rate virtually tripled, and he could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears, and the wash of blood as it pulsed through his body… The thickly matted hair that covered his entire body began to stand on end, making the already powerful lycanthrope appear even more muscular than before, an effect enhanced as his muscles swelled with the ever increasing blood flow. Pupils dilated fully, and the werewolf’s breaths came in rapid and harsh staccato bursts, as the lungs also had to work overtime to keep up with the muscles demand for oxygen, and the mind struggled to compensate for the lack of it. By the time the ghoul’s appeared the rational side of Caine was entirely lost, and all that then remained was the bestial and brutal side of his being, one that he loved to give full rein to… With a final snarl of fury the werewolf pounded down the small hill, loping forwards on all four limbs at times, the anthromorphic change still leaving him with slightly distended arms, as well as the razor sharp claws that ended them. Heedless of the potential danger that the hiding mohrg may well have posed Caine hurled himself towards the nearest ghast and clamped his jaws around the undead abominations throat, tearing free a large chunk of necrotic flesh and spitting it out. Were he not in the very depths of his bloodlust the lycanthrope would have been repulsed by the foul taste, but he barely even noticed it, so lost in his rage was the beast, still the ghoul, as befitted a creature that no longer used any of its organs responded as if nothing at all had happened, shrugging off what would have been a mortal wound with ease. |
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| eocine | Dec 4 2006, 10:55 PM Post #211 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Anaara watched carefully, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow to the sky at the revelation that the vampire was an Elf, and apparently a Moon Elf at that… She turned her head towards the blade-singer and smirked before turning back to the display, and the now gathering number of enemies that faced them. Were she back with her own kind by now they would have sent forwards a group of kobolds, orcs or some other variety of quickly replicating lower order humanoids, and been content to let them take the brunt of the first attack, but in this case there was no such luxury available to her, and so curiously she felt far more vulnerable now than she had done even when standing virtually half-naked in the corridor outside… It was probably this feeling that led to her first choice of spell, one that would add at least one faithful being to the battlefield, one who would be there on her terms and do exactly as she ordered… The priestess of Lloth grasped her holy symbol, and her eyes turned a milky white for a moment as she began to pray in the language of the Drow, imploring the Spider-Queen that she send one of her children to aid her on the field of battle. After a matter of moments Anaara felt a shiver of ice run down her spine, and she smiled cruelly, for that frigid touch let her know that Lloth had heard her prayers, and would answer them… Just to the side of the curious undead ape the mist covered floor seemed to glow a bright crimson for a moment, and then there was an explosion of webbing strands that shot into the air, and finally amidst the fibers a massive spider appeared, its huge chitinous forelimbs pulling it into the plane and into the battle. Wasting no time the huge arachnid plunged its poisonous fangs down towards the ape-figure’s burly shoulder, where they promptly bounced off one of the hard plates that the beast had previously created with it’s spell. |
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| Darkwind | Dec 5 2006, 02:12 AM Post #212 |
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Native
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He'd ran into his share of undead during his life and knew that they had major weaknesses. One of these was that--for whatever reason--they seemed to take poorly to spells like Disintegrate and Glasstrike, more so than the living. He almost let loose with the former spell, aiming to reduce the overconfident vampire to dust, but a thought made him change his mind. The spell it cast was arcane, so there was a chance that it had prepared for arcane assault with a spell turning. Keenly was Greg aware that his own nature made him susceptable to disintegration, and he had no desire to battle his own magics for his life. Consequently, he decided that spending some hours as a glass statue was a more appropriate fate for the vampire. Reaching into a pocket, he withdrew a shard of glass and stared through it at the undead moon elf as he willed the power to focus upon it. With a precisely pronounced incantation and a gesture, he sent the transmutative energies at their foe. One hand hovering near his quiver, Avelaer was well prepared for the abrupt entrance. Even as their enemies wasted time on speech, he drew and nocked an arrow. He targeted the human, who at least appeared to be alive and hence unlikely to possess pesky supernatural abilites to shrug off damage. As he let fly four times, he wished he could engage the spellcaster in melee, where he could take advantage of his training to cast some spells of his own. But, the drow needed watching, so he stood behind her and sent arrows, now fairly glowing with holy power, straight at the summoner. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 5 2006, 07:31 AM Post #213 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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The mocking tone of the vampire rasped against Fade's already fractured nerves; indeed it left her wanting to perform a few little 'experiments' of her own upon the overconfident undead. However, as his thralls arrived, it became obvious to the fey'ri that simply running in and running through the vampire wasn't going to be an option right now. The ghasts didn't overly worry her; she'd fought many of their kind before, and if it wasn't for Llana's exhausted turn attempts, she would have simply skipped past them and headed for the main threats. As it was, she charged at the ghast nearest the handsome human, swords leading - in her current conflicted state of mind, the chance to pierce his pretty flesh seemed oddly fitting to her. |
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| Castamir | Dec 5 2006, 09:29 AM Post #214 |
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Native
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Skafloc had turned as the Vampire appeared, he scowled as only he could as it mocked them. The excitement of it had his heart suddenly thumping so hard he could hear it, the stench and the flies suddenly forgotten as the berzerker's mind focussed on the one thing he was very good at. Violence. Not just random violence, intense, directed and very brutal violence. Skafloc had a lot of issues, issues that for the most part were absent from his everyday dealings with people. It was when he let the brute that lived inside him off it's leash that the stresses and strains of these issues were exercised. It was his therapy. It often left others needing therapy, or medical attention. Or both. The warrior charged into the line of Ghasts, bowling into one in particular, eager to mow down the foul creatures to get to the prize that lay behind it, the vampire, the strange human, or the odd looking monkey. Skafloc wasn't overly bothered which, he just wanted to spill their innards and shut them up in a way that death clearly hadn't managed to yet. He swung his axe with a manic glee, welcoming the state of mind that removed all fear or desire for self preservation, eyes gleaming wildly as the rage took hold. |
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| Pamela | Dec 5 2006, 07:49 PM Post #215 |
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Molly
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As the others approached, Llana began to take to the air. She had no intention of being between the fighters and whatever was out there, and the more spread out they were, the worse for any potential spells. The other creature still wasn’t moving, and she called down at the barbarian’s remark, “The other one’s over there…” Her voice faded as the vampire appeared, and she silently returned his gaze. She grimaced as he began his speech but her expression transformed into worry when the other monsters appeared. Oh no, she thought to herself; they were still not recognised by the divination…and the other, greater evil still rested out of sight. She lay a hand upon the tassels of her sash, and directed the end of it towards the vampire. “Cover your eyes, Anaara,” she called out, and sang one soft chant. The vampire was suddenly enveloped in a globe of sunlight, rendering the twilight colours of the symbol moot. She looked down to see how her allies were faring, and gasped to see Karosin kneeling, and still. |
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| eocine | Dec 5 2006, 11:02 PM Post #216 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The Ghast that Canie had torn the throat from had fangs no less damaging than those that the werewolf possessed, and it’s claws, whilst lacking the bladed edge of Caine’s were still normally more than enough to rend the flesh of virtually any opponent that the undead may have normally encountered. This combat though pitched the Ghast against a being with magically toughened skin, and so no matter that the fangs and claws both struck, the lycanthrope was able to shrug aside the blows as if they hadn’t even happened… Which was far more than could be said for the monster that had found itself on the business end of Skafloc’s cleaving blade, the first attack virtually sundered the creature fully in half, and the second chopped it down to the floor into a bloody pile of ichor and stinkingly rotten flesh, gobbets of which coated the barbarian’s face and chest. Fade on the other hand managed to stay far cleaner, but the pay off for that was that her own attacks against the undead were a little less effective, though her blades still struck true the necrotic nature of her opponents negated the more potent magic’s of both of the fey’ri’s enchanted weapons, which were designed more for combating her own kin, and other planar monsters of evil weal. Off balance, the Ghast staggered back under the assault, but the ability to spear into a vital part of the opponents anatomy was rendered useless here, and so the creature came on, still the clumsy and straight forwards attacking style of the Ghast ensured that he never even came close to laying a hand on the crimson haired female. Behind these rotting meat-sheilds the rest of the necromantic combatants were lined up, and the first to feel the full brunt of the magical energies that surged through the deathless form of the sorcerer was the Moon-Elven Vampire, who recognised well enough the spell that the sorcerer was casting, but had no way of couunder-spelling the magically transmutive attack. Greg had been correct in his belief that the undead form that the vampire held would adversely affect it’s ability to shrug off certain types of spells, but he hadn’t reckoned with the magical augemtnation that the necromancer had been smart enough to imbue his body with earlier that day, and it was this prior spellcasting that enabled the undead to resist the spell. Standing to Greg’s side the blade-singer Avelaer had more success than most other members of the party, his holy arrows burning into the flesh of the cleric, and causing him to stagger backwards and away slightly, the shafts of the missiles still protruding from his body at various angles. Llana’s spell was one that all undead feared, and there was good reason, for from the end of the tasseled sash a tiny globe of light floated out towards the Elven Vampire, then suddenly expanded, shedding its solar radiance all about itself. Curiously it was the human that appeared most affected by this, his mouth falling open in a silent parody of a scream as the skin around his face started to smolder, and his raven black hair ignited. In virtually no time at all the being dropped to his knees, and only his head was visible over the misty waves, the humanity suddenly dropped away, and the party were left looking at the desiccated face of a mummy, parchment dry skin flaking away thanks to the powerful spell. The undead ape on the other hand had the presence of mind to leap away, putting distance enough between itself and the damaging aura of the Sunburst spell to reduce the harm done, though even with that evasion the skin of the creature bubbled and burned. As for the vampire it too managed to get clear of the worst of it, and had managed to just about survive though he was certainly looking far less confident now than he had before. Whilst this was going on Fade suddenly became aware of someone approaching her, a sound of footfalls on grass that rapidly picked up pace as the being made a move towards her back. This saved her from an unfortunate perforating on the sword of the Morhg that attacked her from behind, but she still took a deep slice across the arm, one that was only made worse by the searing cold that chilled her to the bone as the sword touched her skin. In retaliation for his attempt to glassify the Vampire, the undead ape screamed a challenge into the air and began his own casting once more, throwing his hands into the air and jumping back and forth, all the while vocalizing frantically. Once the spell was completed a mingled and fluid ball of red and blue liquids appeared around the deathless sorcerer. There was a moments pause before the fluid tried to force itself though Greg’s very pores, promising a moment of pure agony if the water managed to permeate his deathless form and flush into his system. The vampire itself looked up at the flying form of Llana with baleful eyes, and began another casting of his own, once the arcane words were completed two arrows that were comprised of pure elemental fire, and astoundingly corrosive acid streaked from the open palm of his hand towards the Sunite Priestess. At the same time that his wife was under attack Karosin felt the next stage of the spell kick in, as the magical and normally intangible goblins drew back their oversized hammers once more, and pounded again in exactly the same spots. This time the bones didn’t hold, and the assassin dropped to the floor after suffering three fractures in an instant of time… |
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| Darkwind | Dec 6 2006, 02:17 AM Post #217 |
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Native
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Greg ignored the spell the ape had cast at him, knowing that his deathless nature would make him immune to it. Hecould see that Llana's spell, and the elf's assault, were having effect. No longer were their opponents quite so cocky. The vampire, particularly, seemed very close to losing his grip on his form--well, Greg had just the thing to help him with that. Withdrawing from his collection of foci a glass rod and a piece of sheepskin with a bunch of silver pins stuck in it, he launched into the casting of one of his more devastating "crowd control" spells. But this one would be special. As he cast it, he drew upon his knowledge of holy power to consecrate the resulting bolt of lightning and make it even more effective against such foes as they faced. Finishing, he pointed at the vampire and the bolt sprung at it, spreading to every other enemy afterward. Avelaer kept pumping arrows into the mummy, figuring that the last thing they needed was for it to cast a spell to channel negative energy among its allies, healing them. Of course, the arcanist vampire had similar options at its disposal, but he seemed similarly inclined to concentrate his efforts on their cleric. Besides, Greg seemed to have made a target out of him, and if anyone could be trusted to dish out ridiculous amounts of damage, it was the sorcerer. |
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| Mwa13 | Dec 6 2006, 04:02 PM Post #218 |
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Crazy webslinger
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Jonas was wondering what to do, which to attack, but soon made his decision. His thinking was taking too long for him and he cursed himself for it. He jumped to help Karosin who was now in trouble. He pulled out his enchanted crossbow and held it steady in the air, a grim grin on his face, his eyes wide open, staring with a glee of insane battle readiness. He mentally traced a line through the air at the freakish ape that was somehow casting spells, before loosing a series of electrified arrows towards it. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 6 2006, 06:12 PM Post #219 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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After the first of her own attacks hit home, Fade skittered nimbly back a few steps to avoid the Ghasts's own clumsy counter attack. It was then that she became aware that somethng was behind her; something trying to move stealthily - but not quite stealthily enough. The fey'ri knew enough about the tactics of fighting not to immediately turn around to findout who this new foe was, and so took a gamble and relied on her reflexes. At first, it seemed as if the gamble had paid off; the imagined dagger coming up behind her did not find her back. However, it soon became apparent that whilst the backstab hadn't worked, the unseen nenmy still managed to score a hit on her arm. "Fucker!" she hissed, and immediately began to re-think her own strategy as a worrying cold chill spread from the wound. She had to take down the Ghast - okay, so it hadn't hit her last time, but this time she was out-flanked - but she also wanted to find out exactly what it was that had tried to sneak up on her. Dodging to her left, she near somersaulted out from in between her two foes, tumbling to the side so she could see both of her enemies, using the momentum of her body weight to launch another flurry of sword slashes at the Ghast. |
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| Pamela | Dec 6 2006, 06:49 PM Post #220 |
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Molly
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Llana flinched in anticipation of the oncoming spell. The two arrows, crimson and green, seemed to land upon her chest, but there was no other effect. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks, taking in the damage they’d all already managed to cause. Healer’s eyes objectively measured the injuries versus the ongoing danger; as much as the wife wanted to help Karosin, his injuries weren’t serious enough to come yet to his aid. Even now he was trying to take himself away from the battle. A moment’s prayer for the success of that, and she turned back coolly to the blonde vampire. She reached into one of the many pockets every spell-caster came equipped with, and removed a crystallized eye from one of their former victories. She pointed it at a spot that would contain both the wretched undead mage and the dire monkey. A brilliant kaleidoscope of light erupted to again light up the darkly-lit ‘room’, as the rays formed a dome over the pair. |
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| eocine | Dec 6 2006, 10:09 PM Post #221 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Fade’s style of combat wasn’t shared at all by the werewolf who battled at her side, not for him athletic pirouettes and dodging leaps, rather it was a case of biting and rending his opponents till they either dropped, or he himself fell to the floor. It wasn’t pretty to look at, but against certain opponents it was extremely effective… The Ghast was by no means hard to hit, given that it had no real method of blocking or dodging attacks how could it be? But what made it difficult to battle was the fact that it continually came on, never pausing for a moment and driven by negative energy in a way that gave it a limitless ability to maintain motion. It’s blows may have been slow and clumsy but they never looked like stopping, and even a creature as mentally under endowed as the werewolf knew that it would never tire, never pause for a moment until he was defeated… What the lycanthrope also knew though was that the monster’s blows simply seemed to bounce off his hide to no lasting damage, and so the undead could have landed fists on him from now until the end of all and it still wouldn’t have made any kind of difference, the werewolf was way out of the Ghast’s league. As if to prove this Caine simply reached up and gripped the things head, pulling it down and exposing the back of its neck. Powerful jaws bit down hard, and bone cracked and ground for a moment, then the fangs came again and again, until they were able to sheer though flesh with ease… After just a few bites all it took was one tug, and the head of the Ghast was torn free, and tossed into the stagnant water where it bobbed for a few moments before disappearing. The headless body flailed wildly for a moment before Caine simply shoved it backwards, where it staggered for a few moments before toppling over… Where to now?… |
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| Castamir | Dec 6 2006, 10:14 PM Post #222 |
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Native
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Skafloc barely lost his momentum as he smacked the Ghast to the ground. It was almost distainfully done, swiping at the creature as he had earlier swiped at the flies that had gotten into his eyes. He stepped over it and was about to steam into the leader of the group when what appeared to be a spell appeared around them, blocking his path. He wasn't happy. He was barely rational with the battle rage pounding in his ears, and he spared a glance at the source of the spell, a glance that was far from impressed, ignoring any benefits to the group of whatever the spell might have been. Someone had denied Brainbiter it's preferred victim. Perhaps when rationality was restored Skafloc would see things differently... He noticed Fade had two adversaries, and suddenly he was on the move again, the foul skeletal figure his new target. It might not have much blood to spill, but it looked as if it had guts, and he planned to release them from the confines of that rotting rib cage. "RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!" He shouted with effort at he brought his axe around - he didn't expect to scare the undead creature, but at times like this he enjoyed shouting, and it wouldn't hurt Fade to know he was standing swinging Brainbiter so close to her acrobatics.. |
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| eocine | Dec 6 2006, 10:28 PM Post #223 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Anaara watched the battle with a certain sense of satisfaction, mingled with an assured feeling of a concern that irritated her to be feeling it. Satisfaction that she had clearly managed to align herself with a powerful group of people, and that boded well for her mission to try and gain a measure of revenge again whomsoever had kept her imprisoned for the past years, and left her in a position where she could easily have been a meal for a hungry giant. Concern over the fact that these people could turn against her, and if they did she suspected that they would be more than she could deal with alone. Realising that there had only been one of their number who had thus far spoken out on her behalf with any great vigor she decided that it would be for the best if she could make an ally of her… Tossing back her hair she drew the borrowed short-sword from its scabbard and ran down the hill towards where Skafloc had recently joined Fade in her battle against the undead. Drawing back the magically enhanced blade she swung it as hard as she could towards the Ghast, making sure that she was attacking in such a way that her efforts had been visible to the Fey’ri blade-mistress. |
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| eocine | Dec 6 2006, 10:42 PM Post #224 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Breaking one bone is painful. Two is hideous. Three unspeakable. Nevertheless at least with the brunt of the spell completed the ghostly Goblin images had faded as well, and that was a small mercy, for there can be little worse than being bludgeoned by images of creatures that you consider beneath you. A dragon or demon is fine, but being beaten down by goblin-forms? That was insulting. Though it had to be said that Karosin wasn’t thinking about the potential insult as he dragged himself painfully across the floor in an attempt to get somewhere out of sight where he could wait until the shooting pains had at least reached levels that were manageable. As it was though every breath was agony, and every movement in one of his limbs sent waves of torment crashing around his nervous system. Eventually he managed to get to the reverse side of the implement rack that housed so many objects of torture, and there he let himself lean against the wood for a moment whilst he tried to catch his breath properly and assess the amount of damage that he had suffered. The assassin’s head rested against the hardwood for a moment as he steeled himself to look down at his knee. Once he had done so he regretted it almost instantly, for the limb was angled out to the side in a way that it was never supposed to be. Biting down hard on his bottom lip he was surprised to find himself suppressing a laugh at the situation, and also at exactly how painful his shoulder was, and he wondered when the shock would start to kick in… The sooner the better… |
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| eocine | Dec 7 2006, 06:11 PM Post #225 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The consecrated lightning glowed as if it truly had come from heaven, cracking as it spilt the misty air before the glowing bolt struck the Elven Vampire, before reflecting away and striking the rest of the undead, the touch of heaven meaning that even the undead that were normally immune to the damage that an electrical discharge caused were burned to the core. Fortunately for the vampire he was able to force his undead body to twist away from the worst of it, though the damage was still painful in the extreme, and the touch of the celestial energies seemed to sear through his defenses, seeming to burn into his very soul on some level. Turning towards the Sorcerer the vampire’s face showed rage incarnate, and it was clear that Greg had earned himself the honor of being the next targeted. The spell of Greg’s also struck the Mummy that Avelaer had targeted, and the undead cleric was still shuddering from the shock as the arrows of the blade-singer pierced his skull again and again, until the head of the monster resembled the pincushion that Greg had used as the foci of his own casting. Also using a ranged weapon at this time was the Tiefling Jonas, though in his case it was a crossbow rather than the longbow that his Elven companion used. Unfortunately for the grinning shadow-dancer though their methods of attack were about all they had in common in terms of the success of their attacks, for whilst they both managed to hit with all of their projectiles, the undead ape’s necrotic flesh proved to be far more resistant than that of the mummy, and the electrified bolts just bounced off its skin. Something that didn’t at all happen to the unfortunate Ghast who was reduced to flailing around helplessly trying to keep up with the nimble Fey’ri, whose blades tore easily through the Ghast’s body time and time again, shredding the front of the ghoulish monster, and leaving strips of putrescent flesh littered all about the battle-zone. Tholdagnir had just succeeded in fully scalping the creature when the magically rebounding spell cast by Greg ran through the staggering undead, and it shuddered for a few moments as the consecrated energies seemed to pull it apart at what appeared to be a molecular level. Fade was treated to the sight of the Ghast juddering as if it was inflicted by St Vitus dance start to catch fire, as the rotting fat and pockets of gas in the creature ignited. Flames licking out from virtually every portion of it’s body, including it’s eyes, that bubbled and smoldered before the creature fell, disappearing beneath the mists. It was these very mists that earlier the Mohrg had emerged from and tried to blindside Fade, and now it wished that it was back amongst them, as it now had to contend with the huge form of Skafloc. During his life the man that became the Mohrg had been a child killer, a grubby little back alley murderer who preyed on the weakest in society, and now he was no different to the creature he have been then, undead having given him no sense of perspective, only even more of an ability to carry out his crimes. Now he had the added pleasure of a form that could scare even the strongest willed, and he rejoiced in his freakish form and the power both physically and emotionally that it brought him. Now though the monster felt that same fear that it so enjoyed inflicting on others as it stared up into the face of Skalfoc, seeing nothing but death in his deranged eyes. Luckily for the undead though it managed to tear it’s gaze away from the barbarians and instead focused on the vorpal great-axe that was in his hands. Skafloc’s first massive swing passed straight through the guard of the undead, and the blade spread gore as it cleaved into the collection of guts that were stored in the center of the creature’s body. The murderous beast staggered back, but did still manage to raise his buckler in time to deflect the next of the barbarian’s attacks, but he was nothing if not relentless, and the third mighty swing hammered home as well. His next attack though was dodged, and the Mohrg skipped back nimbly away from the brutal warrior, though this movement took him backwards into the striking range of the attacking Drow, whose borrowed blade struck him in the back and caused the child-killer to fall onto his knees. It was at this position that Greg’s spell found him, and the fleshy parts of his body began to burn at the touch of the holy spell. The creature did though have the presence of mind though to stop, drop and roll, putting out the worst of the damage… Greg’s spell also extended as far as the undead ape, who screamed in pain as his abundant body hair ignited and he too felt the burning of his undead soul. In retaliation the creature started to begin his own spell casting, still piqued at the way that the deathless sorcerer had been able to avoid the effects of his own spell. It was now that Llana’s own dazzling spell was cast, the streaking beam of multi-coloured radiance shining forth from the crystalline eye that she held in her outstretched hand. The ray lanced into the ground from where it suddenly expanded into a ball of flicking rainbow light that caused all in the area to avert their eyes. Unfortunately for the vampire and the ape they weren’t in a position where that would be all that was needed, for the light burned into their eyes, and sent them reeling backwards, their own undead bodies not used to dealing with the pureness of the magical light assault that seared their skin and burned in the way that only something very good can do against pure evil. More than simple damage though the spell left the pair of undead stunned and unable to react, both fell to their knees and tried to shake clear the cobwebs… From his position on his knees the Mohrg was lucky enough to have the perfect view of the radiant assault, whilst being outside of the radius of the spell. As his field of sight cleared the Mohrg dropped his weapon to the floor and raised a hand over his head… “I yield! Spare me!” Whined the murdered pitifully up at those gathered around him. |
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| Pamela | Dec 7 2006, 06:56 PM Post #226 |
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Molly
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Llana smiled coolly as she saw the two creatures drop to their knees, only sorry that they weren’t completely destroyed. She spared a glance around the battlefield as she began to wing down towards her husband. She stared coldly at the Mohrg and called out, “Kill him. We still have a fight on our hands, and I want our backs to be covered by those who haven’t attacked us on sight.” She had no mercy for the undead; indeed, as far as she was concerned, the merciful thing was to remove them from that horrible state. The Sunite’d only briefly entertained the idea of trying to bring one of the dazed creatures down herself, and prayed the others would hurry to make sure that they were gone before they might recover- or the last, worst creature emerge. She felt herself justified to be able to see to her spouse, and she debated ‘wasting’ a more powerful spell to bring him to his full faculties. She tended to caution; healing could literally mean the difference between life and death. She winced sympathetically as she touched Karosin's forehead, pushing away one of his braids as she quietly cast her spell. “Stay still, heart,” she murmured. “The greater evil is still to come.” She looked towards the swamps where the thing was, wondering if they’d have to hunt it down. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 7 2006, 07:45 PM Post #227 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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On hearing a roar to one side of her, Fade couldn't help but grin; she knew she was impulsive, her own attacks powered by anger, but she was positively calm and collected compared to the barbarian in full swing. Knowing that the Morgh was now absolutely no threat whatsoever to her, she continued to slash away at the Ghast in front of her. For a short while she was a little disconcerted to see Anaara join her; in her experience, normally, clerics stayed clear of melee combat, prefering to launch attacks form the back. Still, if she wanted to prove herself to them all, the fey'ri wasn't going to stop her. Fade watched with a mixture of complete satisfaction and disgust as the Ghast she had been hacking at began to burn from Greg's spell and before the rogue could pick a new target, Llana let off a spell of her own. Blinking a little from the blast of searing light, Fade scanned their remaining foes, and sneered a little when she noticed that the vampire had dropped to his knees, seemingly stunned. Always ready to exploit any given advantage, they fey'ri half ran, half skipped over to his prone form, and without delay plunged both her swords as hard as she could into the vampire. |
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| Castamir | Dec 7 2006, 08:22 PM Post #228 |
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Native
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Mercy wasn't a a concept the Barbarian had a lot of time for. His private code of honour might occasionally have demanded it, but it was rarely given when abject cowardice had been the cause of it's asking, and he didn't need Llana's advice to know what to do next. He stood tall, sneering down at the grovelling creature with nothing but it's doom in his eyes. "No." he barked vengefully, stepping quickly to it's side and bringing his axe down in an immense blow aimed at the back of it's neck, the swiftness and efficiency of the blow betraying the fact that this was not the first time the warrior had refused a plea for mercy and delivered a unarguably final execution. He drew his forearm across his mouth, clearing away some of the gore, before spitting at the ground. He glanced up at the drow, nodding a grim approval of her contribution before dashing after Fade, not wanting to miss out on the big prize.. |
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| eocine | Dec 7 2006, 10:34 PM Post #229 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Of course given his positioning Karosin could see nothing of the continued battle, and could only judge what was going on by the sounds, be they the arcane mutterings of Greg, the prayers of his wife flying over head, the guttural roars of Skafloc or the humming bowstring of Avelas as its wielder sent holy arrows into the fray. Thankfully though it did at least sound like things were going there way, for the mocking vampire had fallen silent, and there had been no cries that spoke of fallen companions. Despite this suspicion that things were going well though it was still a huge relief for him to hear Llana’s voice spell out the fact that they were in a position to actually grant mercy, though in truth the only mercy that he was really interested in was that which could grant him some kind of relief from the jolts of pain that were still surging through his body. His breathing was shallow as he didn’t want to risk inflating his lungs over much and possibly have them press against his broken ribs, because for all he knew they could have snapped leaving jagged edges, and that would hurt like the very blazes… Unfortunately the pay off to that was the fact that he was becoming light-headed with the lower amounts of oxygen his body was receiving. In an attempt not to look down at the angle his leg was still bent at the assassin closed his eyes and tried to take his mind off the pain for a while, but it was far too nagging and insistent to be so easily pushed aside. Rather he simply had to sit it out and wait till the pain eased or Llana was able to leave the battle field. Reaching across with his right hand he managed to prop his left arm up, so that his shoulder wasn’t carrying the majority of the weight, and that eased the pain there to a degree, but he was still about as thrilled as a man could be when Llana glided down from above. The smile he offered her was pained, and she could see that even by his normal standards he was pale, and a layer of perspiration stood out on his brow. “I don’t think I’m about to go anywhere…” He replied, making a feeble jest as she placed her cool fingertips to his forehead and prayed for his wounds to be healed. He felt the bones in his ribcage slide together and start to mend, and his shoulder seemed to instantly begin to recover it’s range of movement, and his leg cracked itself back into line, and the puffy feeling left… Yet the pain did not. “Still hurts”, he winced, “more than it should, I’d guess it’s the spell.” But at least I can just about move now, and I will have my revenge against something, be it in here or elsewhere… He didn’t reply to her request verbally, just nodded his head and leaned back again, letting a long exhalation go before starting to take deeper breaths. Though the pain was sill there at least the chance of doing himself further injury had passed… “Just give me a few moments and I’ll be fine.” Promised Karosin as he started to try and re-gather his wits and focus, |
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| Darkwind | Dec 7 2006, 10:56 PM Post #230 |
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Native
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He was about to feed the monkey some magical bolts made of pure force when he heard what Llana said. If there was still a greater enemy to come--please don't let this swamp be home to a black dragon!--he decided to save his spells and let the frontliners deal with the ape. He wanted some time, to cast augmentations and to assume a better tactical position. Therefore, he spoke a magic word and faded from view, the dweomer of his cloak taking him into the Ethereal Plane. Since only one foe remained, Avelaer made it his target. His arm kept pumping out arrows at an incredible rate--almost one every second! As fast as only a very experienced fighter could swing a blade, he fired his arrows. Another spellcaster--he always preferred to go after spellcasters first. |
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| eocine | Dec 8 2006, 05:25 PM Post #231 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Blinded and unable to move as he was the Vampire Necromancer was totally unable to defend himself as Fade charged towards him, and then impaled him on the points of her twin short swords. Deeply red blood erupted up from the mouth of the vampire, viscious enough to completely coat his lengthened canines as his mouth fell apart and a near silent scream bubbled up from his lungs. Crimson eyes rolled back up into his skull for a moment before he began to fall backwards, the blades still deeply embedded in his necrotic flesh. “My Master will avenge…” Quite what he was going to say was then cut off, as Caine skidded to a halt behind the nearly beaten undead, and drew back one of his clawed hands, before driving it with brutal force through the back of the vampire. Blood covered claws burst though the chest of the Mage, and he fell limp onto the lycanthrope’s arm for a moment, before his body started to smoke, and then to dissipate… In no time at all the vampire had vanished into his gaseous form, spreading out into the mists. Whilst this had been going Avelaer’s arrows had been streaking over and over towards the form of the undead-ape, though he would have been disappointed by the comparatively meager amount of damage that they appeared to be doing. Nevertheless the ape too fell to the floor, apparently dead. |
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| Pamela | Dec 9 2006, 10:02 AM Post #232 |
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Molly
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“It is, unfortunately,” Llana remarked at Karosin’s reference to the continuing pain. She caressed his cheek, smiling sympathetically. Still, her attention was divided as she listened to the ongoing conversations and racing footsteps across the wet grasses, awaiting any warning of a contined assault. “And you will be, but don’t push yourself, Karo. The other’s still out there, of the two I sensed, and that vampire called him his Master.” She pulled out a small scroll which contained a prayer to Sune, and her palm rested on the former assassin’s shoulder. An aura of flame flickered around his head and shoulders, and she smiled at the warmth the image imparted. “Until then, this will hopefully offer you a little more help against any further spells.” She leaned forward for one kiss, and smiling said, “But stay here till you’re feeling better. I’m going to see to the others, and see what we’ll do next.” She then stood up, and looked around. No further injuries; they were still in fine shape as a group. “So, apart from more camouflaged undead, does anyone have any idea as to what we might be facing?” I don’t suppose there’s an amulet in the ashes, so to speak, to spare ourselves any further reason to remain here?” |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 9 2006, 10:23 AM Post #233 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade couldn't help the satisfied smile that spread across her face - one that exposed her own decidedly pointed canines - as her bldes bit deeply into the flesh of the cocksure vampire. She didn't begrudge Caine the final killing stroke; the vampire knew it was her that had spitted him, and that was enough. As the vampire's corporeal form broke down and it's gaseous form began to dissipate, Fade turned over the ashy remains with her foot, looking to see if there was indeed an amulet there. However, she doubted it... even in her battle-hungry state, she was a little disconcerted by the fact that the vampire had made a reference to 'his Master' - undoubtedly, the amulet would reside in its hands. If it has hands... She looked over to the others. "His Master? Another vampire, maybe?" |
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| eocine | Dec 9 2006, 11:55 AM Post #234 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Yes”, Came a voice that seemed to echo all around them, as if it wasn’t being spoken so much as simply being broadcast by the laboratory itself. “In a manner of speaking you could consider me a vampire, but only if you would consider a novice wizard to be an arch mage, for I am far beyond that…” If the Elven Vampire’s tone had seemed boastful, this new voice seemed to be speaking in statements rather than hyperboles, the very flatness of his voice lending credence to the words. “My minions were defeated, but they shall rise again in time, you on the other hand shall not be so fortunate, for you have invaded my realm and slain those whose loyalty I commanded, and this is an insult that shall be punished by your deaths.” Still the same dull tone as he continued. “You shall all find a space in my forces after your deaths, know that now before you are slain.” “Prepare yourselves mortals”. There was a pause, and beneath their feet the ground started to shake. “I come.” From the swampy depths of the room came a tremendous explosion of noise as trees were uprooted and sent flying though the air, the wet pounding of mammoth feet crashing down onto the floor sent echoes though the room, and finally in the darkness they could see a huge shape emerge. Wings spread wide over its back, draping a massive canopy of shadows beneath them came a dragon… Unnaturally gaunt as far as the species went, and shrouded in darkness that seemed to ebb and flow around its body. This specimen was, as Greg had suspected, a Black Dragon. Or perhaps it would have been better to say that it had once been a Black Dragon, now though it was something else, something corrupted and warped into a shape that no dragon surely would easily countenance, for its fangs dropped down abnormally far, and the eyes burned with the fires of the undead. The time of Vampiris Draconis was at hand. OOC; Check OOC thread for notes. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 9 2006, 02:36 PM Post #235 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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The voice was enough to wipe the gin from the fey'ri rogue's face; the reality of the vampire's master enough to make her shrink back, a blantant look of frightened incredulity upon her face. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me..." she whispered, fighting down the urge to simply turn tail and flee. Dragons were always a problem; they were big, mean and had scales like iron... but, when push came to shove, they had vulnerable spots that could be taken advantage of if an attack was deemed necessary. Being undead, Fade doubted this one had such vulnerable spots. She glanced over at Llana, hoping against all hope that she still had a few of those nice sunshine spells left over. Either that or some potent healing spells - Fade had seen clerics channel positive healing energy into the undead before, damaging them far more than a sword ever could. Only problem with that was that you had to get close enough to touch them... ... which was going to be her problem, too. She looked down at her own beloved swords - weapons she had always relied on in the past. The looked insignificant in her hands now. It's at times like this that a bow would be quite handy... "By Erevan, as if the day couldn't get any worse..." she muttered, bringing her blades to bear in front of her. Swallowing hard and trying to push back the fear that threatened to envelop her, Fade readied herself to charge, and if possible, use her old tactic of climbing - or preferably jumping - her way on its back. At least that way, she'd be harder to hit... possibly. "Just think of the treasure... big bugger like that's got to have a big old haul... makes it all worthwhile..." With that thought in mind, the fey'ri screeched and ran at the dragon, giving herself no chance to balk and back away, hoping that her agility would mean she could dodge any attacks the dragon might launch at her before reaching her target - its back. |
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| Pamela | Dec 9 2006, 02:52 PM Post #236 |
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Molly
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Normally Llana would have rolled her eyes (at least mentally) at the boastful comparison of their new antagonist. But the strength of the telepathic message, and of its now-dead servants, made her wary instead. Any lingering touch of hopeful skepticism began to fade when the tremors began. Her wings flapped, and she rose a few feet off the ground, watching with beating heart as a legend came to undead life before her. She had fought a dragon, once before, and as magnificent as it had been, it seemed a child compared to this. As its form filled the vault, she had a sudden appreciation of both the size and limits of the ‘room’, and was thankful that the creature lacked the space to be able to fly in its broad confines. A chill of awe went down her spine as it reared up, filling their horizon, and she began to perceive the wreckage of its once-living frame. She turned to Karo, mouthing the word, “Stay,” as she dropped one of his earliest gifts at his side. An immediate defense came to mind, and she began to weave the incantation. As she did so, a quandary arose, and her mind beat out her heart. Protect yourself, or you will be unable to save him, she thought, as a thin sheen of silver seemed to surround her before fading from view. |
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| eocine | Dec 9 2006, 06:04 PM Post #237 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Pride is a powerful emotion, and one that can override virtually all others, including fear and horror. For both of these were what the Drow Cleric should have been feeling as the undead behemoth rampaged towards them, easily splintering the feeble growths that passed for trees in this foul swampland. Instead though she felt her Drowish pride push down the fear, and her eyes narrowed at the latest being to charge towards her. Instead of move towards it herself though she stepped towards the huge human, whispering a prayer under her breath for a moment before she pointed a hand towards the burly barbarian. Inside Skafloc’s massive chest magical energies took hold of his heart driving it forwards and onwards. The spell would ensure that he could keep fighting until, and beyond the limits of his already preternatural endurance. She then readied herself for the beats arrival, determined that she would not be found wanting in the eyes of Lloth. |
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| Castamir | Dec 9 2006, 06:20 PM Post #238 |
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Native
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Skafloc's disappointment at not being able to have slotted the vampire personally was instantly forgotten as the voice sounded. It was immense, all around them. The barbarian was excited, the red mist was well and truly down, but he was not completely beyond reason. He turned looking for a clue as to it's source. If it were a trick, he'd make something pay for it. Pay very dearly. He wasn't kept in suspense long, the dragon thing revealed itself, and Skafloc's lust for battle was not found wanting. He did pause, just briefly, to take in it's size, it's awsome power, and as it charged towards them he seemed to gather himself, having judged it a worthy thing to throw himself at without abandon, if he were to fall here there would be no shame at all, and he didn't care what happened to his body afterwards, because he knew where he would be. Not that I plan to die yet. he thought, not for the first time. He felt a warmth grasp his heart, as if his pounding rage was somehow renewed, but he did not consider it's cause too hard, because he was already running pull pelt at the gigantic creature, moving so that he was approaching at a slightly different angle to the Tiefling. He neither shouted, howled or screamed, his focus was too great and his teeth remained clenched in a deathlike rictus as he committed himself entirely to doing the thing as much damage as he could. He lived for, and had survived all these years entirely for moments exactly like this. Whether or not he would survive past this particular moment was another thing entirely, but for now, Skafloc didn't care one jot. |
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| eocine | Dec 9 2006, 06:27 PM Post #239 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Summoned from the Demon-Web pits the massive spider that the Priestess had brought to the prime material plane had of course seen a huge amount of terrible creatures in its time and not fled from them, but in this case the primeval terror centers in its brain kicked fully into gear and the eight legs worked frantically to spin the arachnid around and prepare if to scuttle away as quickly as possible and hide from the huge beast. But Lloth does not look kindly on her children that flee… The sudden feeling of the Spider-Queens gaze falling upon it caused the creature to rapidly reassess the options it had. Or more realistically made the tradeoff between death now, and an eternity of torment once it returned to its home. Flight or fight… It charged towards what was probably certain death. |
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| eocine | Dec 9 2006, 06:40 PM Post #240 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Swirling around the ceiling above their heads the three elementals that had followed Skafloc and Avelaer through the portal into this room spiraled endlessly around each other and watched the goings on beneath them. The fear that was tearing through the ranks beneath them continued its path through the beings composed of nothing but air as they watched the dragon come on. Yet they were indebted to the wielder of the ring, and so they swept down as one to the attack, hurtling towards the Undead. |
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| eocine | Dec 9 2006, 07:07 PM Post #241 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Caine’s eyes dilated as the dragon burst through the swamp towards them, breath robbed from his lungs as a shock of fear flooded through his system. In his time Caine had thrown himself at any number of things and done so without any hesitation or regrets, but this beast was something else, something beyond his own sphere of experience and what he could even consider doing battle with. Something forged from blackest magic and raw power. Something never meant to exist. Something already dead so it couldn’t be killed. Yet he couldn’t run, when others ran to attack it… Women in their number, and he would rather die than look a coward compared to a woman. Forcing himself to summon upon all his rage he too charged the creature, flashing through the mists in the direction of the giant dragon, straining his muscles to stop his hands from shaking. |
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| eocine | Dec 9 2006, 08:47 PM Post #242 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Wonderful… The news that the more powerful of their potential opponents hadn’t yet revealed himself to them went down about as well as could be expected. Which meant to say that there was a mingled sense of resignation and disappointment that he was still hardly in a position to actually do anything to aid his wife in staying alive. Frankly he wished that she would stay down behind the shielding screen of the implement board and not expose herself to any further risk, but this type of feeling was one that they both had needed to learn to suppress and thus allow each other to work as best they could without being distracted by the other, to do otherwise invited death for both of them. The pain was no less intense than it had been earlier, and even trying to raise his arm stole the breath from his lungs and rendered him completely immobile. It was this more than anything that was so maddening, for he’d always relied on his ability to outmaneuver his opponents, and he found himself now reduced to the point that he would be unable to outmaneuver a crawling child. In a momentary act of frustration he started to raise his hand to bang it into the floor, but instantly the pain flared up again and he dropped it back down with a sigh and a helpless shaking of his head towards Llana. He nodded at her words, about to protest her using the spell on him when she could have easily used it on herself instead, but the energy to protest had been robbed from him for the time being, and so he merely nodded his acquiescence, letting her complete her prayer to Sune. In the silence that briefly followed he did all he could to make the injuries more bearable, using his good arm to arrange his cloak in such a way that it was able to act as a sling of sorts for the previously broken, and still agonizingly painful one. Unfortunately though his ribs and knee he could do nothing for, because both would require him to move more than his body could stand. As the words of their unseen assailant began to intrude he simmered with annoyance at the fact that he wouldn’t be able to do much for the time being, he’d heard boastful opponents before and had ever enjoyed making them eat their taunts, it would seem to be a pity that he’d be unable to do so tonight. Then he heard the tearing up of trees, and felt the ground beneath him shake, something that inflamed his wounds. Unable to see the attacker he had only the face of his wife to go by, and the fact that she’d dropped the phoenix blade by his side to go on, which was something that she only ever did when she feared for the outcome. That fear fed his own, and the fact that he couldn’t see it only made things worse, for it is common knowledge that people fear that which they cannot see… He shivered at his helplessness, knowing in his heart that he was more vulnerable now than he could ever remember being before. It was a thought that promised to invade his sleep in future. Were he to survive... |
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| Darkwind | Dec 9 2006, 09:49 PM Post #243 |
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As soon as he entered the Ethereal Plane, Greg began to cast a spell to protect himself harm--an abjuration to make his skin as tough as stone. Around the same time he finished, their enemy made himself known, entering in dramatic fashion from above. Just as he dreaded, it was a black dragon, but he did not anticipate that it was vampiric as well. Made sense, though, considering that the moon elf referred to him as 'Master'. What to do? It's acid breath would make short work of them, unless they were protected or very, very nimble. He could not keep out of the fracas completely, though, lest the others thought he'd abandoned them. So, after putting some distance between himself and the others, he commanded his cloak to return him to the Material Plane, and prepared to cast a spell to give everyone a little extra speed and agility. Since there was something of a lull in the battle, but anticipating the challenge to come, Avelaer decided to improve his chances of surviving a bit by casting, coincidentally, the same Stoneskin spell that Greg was casting at the same time. Once he saw what sort of monster they would have to deal with, he did not regret it. "Spread out!" He shouted and Avelas leading, now in sword form, charged at the dragon. How does a dragon fight? A warrior's attack is necessarily defined by his weapons, but how could you guess which it would use when it had so many: claws, bite, tail, breath weapon, it's sheer size and weight, or any of the attacks granted it by its vampiring nature? His mind, his most formidable weapon, churned. The best course of action seemed to assume that the dragon would use the most logical attack, so Avelaer ran alongside it as he struck several times, heading for it's tail and, incidentally, away from the others. At the same time, he let the song of the Bladedancers flow through him as he cast another spell, Displacement, to make himself even harder to hit. |
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| eocine | Dec 10 2006, 02:32 PM Post #244 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The dragon’s armour plated face bore an expression of the grimmest fury as it churned through the swamp, it’s massive flanks causing the stagnant waters to form wave enough to unbalance the less nimble of the party members. Massive and razor sharp claws flung earth and foetid slime into the air as they pounded down into the soft ground as the deathly beast charged. Avelaer’s attempt to outflank it was ignored as the beast thundered past, heading towards the spell casters, for it was experienced enough to know that they would represent the biggest threat to it, and as such would need to be rendered first. Though in truth short of a God there was little that it actually feared, but prudence dictated that they should be the first to die. Whilst the bladesinger was ignored the leaping form of Fade who had slipped off his watery scales in her attempt to clamber up his back was not. The arced its long neck and opened wide its huge maw, and the Fey’ri was able to see the massive fangs and serpentine tongue of the dread-beast, before there was a sudden swelling in two glands on either side of his mouth, and a jet of acid seared towards her. Turning then away from the rogue he looked up at the flying form of Llana, and crooned for a moment, in a pitch that only Caine could actually hear. In moments a huge swarm of locusts swarmed out of the forest and attacked her, crawling over her face and clothing, up the legs of her riding skirt and into her hair and the feathers of her wings. This monstrous swarm also took in Greg and Anaara, and attacked them in a similar way, thousands of biting vermin covering them and acting as a distractant… |
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| Darkwind | Dec 10 2006, 03:24 PM Post #245 |
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Feeling more and more like an idiot who decided to fence a mountain, Avelaer nonetheless continued his attack, while at the same time quick-casting a spell to increase his dexterity, making himself even harder to hit and making his finesse attacks even more likely to connect. Hopefully, the holy power of his weapon would have at least some effect on the beast. Moving to put some distance between himself and the others, so as to make sure the monster's breath couldn't take them all out at once, Greg concentrated on casting his spell, trying to ignore the insects. Once everyone was hasted, he would give the creature a taste of holy power. meta: Avelaer keeps poking at the beast and casts Cat's Grace. Greg casts Haste to include himself and as many of the others as he can reach, |
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| Pamela | Dec 10 2006, 05:11 PM Post #246 |
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Molly
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Llana quailed internally as the wyrm turned its attention towards her. This turned into frustration and disgust as the locusts descended upon her as if she were a field of grain. She ignored the natural but useless urge of swatting them away, torn now only by one concern- stay her ground, and risk losing a spell, or lose a few precious seconds but take herself farther from the others and regain an uninterrupted ability to cast magic? Her wings beat in the air, and she raced across the swampy grasslands, heading along the creature’s right flank, opposite Avelaer. She however maintained her distance, not caring to have that maw snatch her from the sky and rip her apart like a fly in the air. The buzzing of the insects faded in her ear as she left the swarm behind, replaced only by the crackling of wings as the locusts tried to disentangle themselves from her hair. Yuck, she thought, as she tried to be as discrete as possible while crushing the insects caught between her thighs beneath the folds of her skirts.As bad as ants...I really do have to consider wearing pants from now on... |
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| eocine | Dec 10 2006, 08:52 PM Post #247 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Under his feet the earth shook and trembled as the dragon came on, and in some way that was reassuring to the lycanthrope, for it helped him to disguise the shaking that his own body was doing as he charged towards the draconic undead… It seemed to fill the horizon before him, teeth and wings and force enough to bring down buildings… His people were not readers nor writers, but they did still have a strong enough tradition of story telling, and one that he recalled from long ago was a story of the great red wyrm Inferiacanto, who had allowed the pack to hunt in his lands in the time past. How they had hunted for humans and given the mighty beast a share of what they captured as tribute, and the hunting had been good there for a time, until the Elves slew the wyrm with their trickery, and his people had been forced to move on. The story of this dragon’s life was long and winding though, and encompassed an occasion where a human knight had fled from the beast, to catcalls from his people, and of course he and the other younger members of the tribe had laughed at the cowardice of the human… And he felt hat laughter keenly now, for if he too fled then he would be no better than the human, and so he leapt to the attack, his speed and leaping distance increased by the spell that Greg had cast on him only moments before, waiting for the head to pass him by before hacking with his claws at the side of the dragon’s neck. The mighty scales of the dragon served to repel his blows better than any armor, and even when he did strike true undeath had given the monster resistance enough that the wound barely even bled… Further more his hands were enveloped by a darkness that seemed to cold-burn his soul, draining his life force even as he backed away. |
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| eocine | Dec 10 2006, 08:59 PM Post #248 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As a trio the three Elementals swooped down from above with remarkable speed, spinning around each other in an attempt to make it hard for the undead monstrosity to draw any kind of a bead as to where they were headed… Dodging past one of the wings that the Dragon was using more for balance than anything else, the aerial beings flew down towards its back and all three of them hammered down with huge buffeting blows one after the other… None made so much as a dent on the hide of the creature, their blows as ineffective as a zephyr trying to extinguish a forest fire… Yet there was no option other than brute force available to them, and so they move on and prepared to strafe once more. Anaara's summoned spider fared no better, for whilst it was easily able to scuttle up the armor-clad body of the Draco-Vampire, its fangs were simply not upto the task of piercing the Dragon's skin. |
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| eocine | Dec 10 2006, 09:28 PM Post #249 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Anaara watched silently as the dragon came on, willing her fingers to be still and her breathing to be regular as she attempted her casting. Even as she mouthed the words of her prayer to the Spider-Queen though she was aware of the force and majesty that the creature had clearly once possessed, and how it had been corrupted by the descent into a state of undeath that the draconic being had undergone. Her words spoke of a wish that Lolth grant her more skill in battle, as well as a desire that her strength be increased that she more easily carry her blade into battle… This wish was granted, for immediately she felt the muscles beneath her skin grow slightly, and they seemed to feel curiously as if they were full of energy, an energy that would expire all too soon if the strength were not expended as it was meant to be. In truth she didn’t like using this spell, and normally only resorted to it in desperate times when forced to battle hand to hand, but her spells had been depleted in the battle against the giant, and tossing anything that tapped into the negative energy plane at the vampire would only serve to make it stronger. Thus she was forced to resort to improving her physical prowess. Fortunately it seemed that the sorcerer was intent on much the same, for she recognised the spell that he was casting. Of course as he was a male she expected the assitance, and so didn't feel in the least compelled to offer a look of thanks in his direction. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 10 2006, 09:34 PM Post #250 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade swore under her breath as her attempt to scrambleup onto the dragon's back failed. It had ben a long shot, but she would still have liked to have succeeded; at least she could have tried to find a weakspot to target - around the base of the wingjoint, or something like that. What happened next would probably prove to to be something the fey'ri would revisit in the dead of night for months to come. At first, she thought the undead dragon was going to simply lunge for her, but upon noticing the tell-tale signs of it preparing to use it's breath weapon, Fade knew the only way to stop being literally melted was to attmept to dodge out of the way. Gathering herself, she tried to predict where the dragon would spray his acid breath and panting heavily, she near somersaulted to one side. The wrong side. Realising her error thankfully before the acid hit her, she managed to twist her body slighty, so that the jet of acid missed her by a cat's whisker. Hitting the ground at a roll, she quickly backed off away from the vampiric dragon, staring at the bubbling ground, visibly shaken. Still, fortune favoured the foolish, and she was buggered if she was going to give up... she just needed to change her tactics, that was all. Forget jumping and climbing - get under the bastard - try to hamstring it. Either that, or grab the tail and clamber up that way. Shaking her hair out of her eyes, they fey'ri took a few deep lungfuls of the putrid air and once again charged towards the dragon, all the while nimbly trying to avoid any incoming attacks, aiming this time for it's back end. |
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| Castamir | Dec 10 2006, 11:55 PM Post #251 |
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Native
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Up close the dragon seemed vast, a vast fast moving wall of stinking fetid scales, with sharp pointy bits. Skafloc still wasn't put off, in fact if anything he was more determined to make his mark (in more ways than one), and he figured if a bloody huge vorpal axe wasn't up to the job, nothing would be. He was currently on the other side of the creature to the werewolf, and so far had been ignored, an insult the barbarian felt firing his already raging temper. He kept on going until he was at where the creature's sinuous neck joined it's broad torso, and he ran straight at it, swinging brainbiter with all of his crazed might, putting his hope in the otherworldly axehead and it's ever-sharp edge... |
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| Mwa13 | Dec 11 2006, 08:29 AM Post #252 |
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Crazy webslinger
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Jonas stared at the humongous dragon as it emerged from the thick mist. Jonas fumbled with his weapons, feeling immersely scared for his life. It had been a long time since he had felt like this. The last time was when he was still going on his first adventures and meeting many of the monsters in the other Plains, where he went for many trips. It had always been exciting to find out new things, but there had been times where he had felt truly scared, but not many. Only a few occassions. It was a weird feeling to sense it again and Jonas was losing his concentration. He was also losing his track of thought. How could something like that even exist, he wondered as he stared at the huge undead dragon. He didn't know what to do to it, he wasn't sure he had anything to use against it. He just stood there, staring at the dragon, his mind becoming a blank, but he knew he had to do something. Only one thing did come to mind and he picked up his crossbow, loading it and sending electrified bolts at the dragon. He had no idea if it would really work, but it was the one thing he could think of doing. |
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| eocine | Dec 11 2006, 09:31 PM Post #253 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As Avelaer had hoped the enchantments that ran through his near namesake sword were enough to damage the great beast, sliding into one of the all too infrequent gaps in the monsters natural armor and drawing blood. Two things were immediately apparent, firstly the state of undeath had granted the Dragon some kind of resistance to the blade, for the wound wasn’t as damaging as such a well placed strike would have normally warranted, and secondly that there was some kind of enchantment on the creatures skin that had permeated its necrotic blood, for as the black ichor oozed forth and washed over his hand the Elven Blade-Singer instantly felt the pull of something rending at his soul, stripping away his life-force and leaving him feeling in some way less whole than he had before. Greg’s hasting of the others didn’t go unnoticed, but the sorcerer was out of range for the time being, still his time would come soon enough... Out of the corner of his eye the dragon watched the celestially radiant figure of Llana swoop away from the swarm of locusts that he had previously sent to quite literally plague her. Recently he and his minions had dissected an avariel, and for a brief moment the monster contemplated how interesting it would be to have the red-haired Sune priestess on the slab to examine the wings she wore, but only for a moment. There would of course be time for such speculation once her and the rest of her companions were all dead… Still for the time being she seemed to be content to simply escape from the nibbling insects, and so for a brief moment would warrant no further attention. Unlike Skafloc, who brought down the magical axe brain-biter again and again onto the massive next of the beast. But even he and his vorpal blade were finding it hard to penetrate the thick and magically toughened hide of the dragon. The burly warrior did make it though the array of scales once, and drew more of the black blood that Avelaer had been wounded by earlier. His hacking attacks ensured that the barbarian would be liberally coated with the ooze, and it ran in rivulets down his massive forearms, draining the tiniest portion of his life away as it did so… Not that the raging North-man was ever likely to notice such a wound in the grand scheme of things… The same though could not be said of the werewolf that attacked the other side of the armored throat of their assailant. For his own stamina could not match Skafloc’s and so a similar wound caused him to howl with momentary pain as the necrotic slime washed over his hands and chest. At the howl the dragon flinched slightly and looked down towards the lycanthrope with mingled distaste and amusement… “Pitiful creature, you lycanthropes are never more than animals… Still I do find you to be such an instructive study, and your abilities to shapechange are impressive, as are your resistances to everything but silver…” “Still”, continued the monster as it reared back for a second and slashed forwards with one of it’s massively powerful claws that tore deep and bloody slashes across the werewolf’s chest and torso, “You’re still as nothing compared to one such as I.” The first slash was followed by a devastatingly powerful backhanded blow that launched Caine off his feet and sent him flying backwards through the air. Neck and shoulders hit the ground first, and his legs carried their momentum over, causing the wolf-man to go into a series of backwards rolls, each one coating his pelt more and more with swamp-slime, that matted his coat and smeared him with filth. Jonas choice of weapon was certainly smart in that it kept him clear of the more lethal parts of the dragon, but the electrified bolts did no more than bounce off the scales of the rearing dragon and then drop into the swamp. “You think to harm me with that little toy?” Asked the undead of the Tiefling in a voice that was sepulchral in its coldness, “I could destroy an army with ease and challenge the most powerful demons that ever lived, and you would do well to remember that.” His final words to the shadow-dancer were punctuated with his whipping his wing out towards Llana almost carelessly, and slapping with sufficient force to knock the breath from her lungs and stars into her eyes. “As for you human”, the skull-like face of the beast looked down at Skafloc and seemed to smile for a moment, though any such expression was hard to note given the huge amount of fangs and bony spikes that littered the creature’s face. “You have some strength that’s true, but I… I am more than you could ever imagine.” Blackened and dripping fangs were suddenly exposed as the maw of the vampiric dragon opened, and suddenly lunged down at the barbarian, the oversized canines tearing huge chunks from his shoulder and chest, leaving massive slashing wounds that pulsed blood onto the floor. Blood that seemed to be absorbed into the swamp like water into a sponge. Much less than pain, Fade’s attack to its hind-quarters evoked no more in the dragon than would sitting on a comfortable chair for a human, her blades simply bouncing off the creatures hide… Still it wasn’t a total washout for the Fey’ri, after all the beast did at least notice her, and whipped his tail around behind himself in her general direction. Again fortunately for her his aim was off. This was less fortunate though for Avelaer, who was unluckily enough to catch the gargantuan appendage on the follow through, the blow instead catching him on the side and making him grateful that he chose to prepare himself with a stone-skin enchantment earlier on… |
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| Darkwind | Dec 11 2006, 10:27 PM Post #254 |
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Greg decided to gamble a bit. Though normally he would not dream of using this attack on a dragon, he knew its undead state made it much more likely to succumb to it than it would be were it still alive. The gamble was in forgoing casting some other spell, perhaps a ward against acid. Chances were small that the dragon could cast Spell Turning, so he felt he could risk it. As he walked backward to put even more distance between him and the dragon, he took out a dust-covered lodestone and began to cast the transmutation that was the bane of all undead. "Hey, gruesome! Eat this!" he challenged, just as a thin, green ray sprung from his finger toward the monster, it's energy seeking to tear the walking corpse atom by atom until it was nothing but a trace of fine dust. This will not do, he thought as he tumbled through the air and on the ground two feet next to his Displaced image. It's too formidable for melee. Once he regained his balance and rose to his feet, he changed Avelas to a bow once again and sent a stream of arrows at the dragon. Like hitting a broad side of a barn... Even a blind man would be pressed to miss it. But would his arrows do any good? If not, he was almost completely useless. |
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| Castamir | Dec 12 2006, 12:04 AM Post #255 |
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Native
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Skafloc was cheered by the black blood, and hacked away grimly, his mind not even beginning to assess just how long it would take at this rate to fell the thing.. He realised that it was addressing him, and stepped back, unusually (for Skafloc) dwarfed by his opponent. As it spoke he raised his arm, almost in salute, but what was displayed at the end of his arm was hardly the northman bestowing an honour on the dragon - though some might have considered the two outstretched fingers a salute of sorts.. Then it's head darted towards him and Skafloc stopped his posturing and flailed with his axe, his machismo momentarily causing him to forget the size difference, and as the jaws snapped at him he could feel the fangs pierce his flesh in more than one place. Skafloc roared with fury as it's jaws closed, and then, as the dragon's attention was diverted elsewhere he simply ignored his injuries, and leapt into the attack with renewed vigour, the pain from his fresh wounds only prooving to the warrior that he was still alive, and while he was still alive, he was going to keep on attacking... |
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| Pamela | Dec 12 2006, 06:32 PM Post #256 |
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Molly
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As the wing swung towards Llana, the size of a ship’s topsail, she tried to back away. It crashed against her, and she gasped at the impact, knocking her head back with the whiplash. The nerves down her spine jangled, sending brilliant blasts of pain into her mind intermittently as she moved her arms to cast another spell. A ray of brilliant white light, pure positive energy, flashed from the Sunite's right hand towards the offending wing as her left hand grasped her holy symbol. She forced herself to lower her head to look again at her companions and cried out to the suffering werewolf, “Retreat- better you survive to fight other battles than waste your life needlessly on this!” Despite her pain and the horrible odds, she had to smile; all their new allies were still present. Blessed goddess, such bravery…. |
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| Mwa13 | Dec 12 2006, 09:31 PM Post #257 |
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Crazy webslinger
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Jonas listened to the undead drake's words and knew that his crossbow was useless here. He set the bow aside and grabbed his daggers. He clenched his fists around the handles, closed his eyes and gave a silent prayer to himself and all the others with him fighting the monstrosity. As he opened his eyes, he jumped towards the dragon, his daggers ready to find any vulnerable spot on the dragon's side. He also kept an eye out to find a way to climb on top of it. He would not let fear take control of him, not now, not ever. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 13 2006, 05:25 PM Post #258 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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With every desperate slash of her blades, Fade's language was getting more colourful. She could hit the bastard - she just couldn't injure it, and it was getting to her, As she continued to duck and dodge anything she could consider an attack, the fey'ri tried desperately to thing of away to injure the brute - of a place she might be able to stick a blade in and get some kind of leverage. There was no way she was facing this thing head on - she'd already had a near terminal acid bath already - but at the same time, it's heavily armoured backside wasn't exactly the best place for someone who normally relied on her agility rather than simple brute strength when attacking; her strengths lay in the amount of hits she could score compared to her enemies, and her ability to target their vulnerable spots and hit them where it really hurt if she was lucky; she may as well be trying to slice the dragon up with a bit of paper for all the good she was doing. Again, the only viable solution she could come up with was getting near to the creature's wing joints - the equivalent of the dragon's armpits, normally considered a good place to slide in a dagger if you wanted an easy kill. Well, apart from the fact that you'd need a fucking giant greatsword to stab a dragon in the heart via its armpit she thought, a little hysterically. So, again, she steeled herself to try to climb upon the dragon and see if there was any damage she could do whilst perched atop it... |
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| eocine | Dec 14 2006, 07:42 PM Post #259 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The summoned creatures continued their attacks, despite the fact that it was becoming more and more apparent that, for the time being at least, their attacks were having no effect on the beast. The spider scuttled up the leg of the dragon, and crawled rapidly towards the bone plated skull. Easily keeping his grip on the armor plated scales the arachnid positioned itself dead center, and then plunged its venom dripping fangs downward with all the force that the gigantic red-back could muster. Further towards the spine of the creature the three elementals that had followed them through the dimensional portal pounded down again and again with their wind-forged fists, but they never seemed to manage much more than glancing blows, the scales so perfectly set that the spread out the force of the impact over a wide area, robbing the blows of much of their focus... |
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| eocine | Dec 14 2006, 08:00 PM Post #260 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The Drow cleric flexed the muscles of her arms for a moment as she contemplated moving in towards the dragon, but the lack of success that the others were having in their attacks dissuaded her for the moment. I shall let them absorb another few of the beasts attacks before I commit myself to the battle, Anaara told herself as she looked on, for when I do I want to be able to come away alive… One didn’t spend as much time in the service of Lolth as she had and not learn a thing or too about the undead, and so the priestess was well aware of the magical defenses that the state bestowed on the dragon. This borne in mind she pulled a small silvery dagger from a pouch around her waist and began to pray for the assistance of her goddess. Her eyes rolled backwards for a moment, and her fingertips brushed the gleaming metal before she grasped the hilt of the blade. Spinning the tiny weapon around she drove the needle sharp tip into the palm of her hand, holding the cutting edge still for a moment until the blood leaked down her hand and started to drip steadily onto the floor. Her blood then seemed to levitate upwards, and warped itself into a shape identical to that of the dagger she held, and they then morphed in colour as well, becoming no less silvery than the original. Swirling around her these blades glinted in the purple light, and buoyed by their presence the Drow began to make her way forwards. |
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| eocine | Dec 14 2006, 08:30 PM Post #261 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Such power, more than any creature that the lycanthrope had ever encountered before. Enough brute strength that the werewolf was humbled by it, and left wallowing in the stinking mud, his life’s blood leaking away as the massive claw marks that the dragon had left scored across his chest pulsed freely. Rolling over Caine grabbed up a handful of the glutinous earth, and slapped it wetly across the cuts, the bleeding slowed by the passage through the dirt. Llana’s words brought nothing more from the werewolf than a shaking of his head, and a fresh pulse of anger at the thought of being nannied in this combat. “I will not flee this combat, death is preferable to running.” With those words he plunged himself back into the fray, howling a challenge to all that could hear and driving his claws towards the intestines of the monster, entirely heedless of the potential death that was close at hand. |
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| eocine | Dec 14 2006, 09:21 PM Post #262 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Something that the group was learning as time went by was that the dread beast before them was no ordinary undead, rather it was a creature of true horror and magical rage, tempered with an intelligence beyond the norm for his kind, and a power that proved him to be a true wyrm. Greg’s magical attack streaked through the air, the green tinged arcane beam seemed to be virtually vibrating with hunger for the undead’s destruction. A target so big could hardly be missed, and so the lancing spell struck home, diving eagerly into the dragon… There was a pause, and the monster shook for a moment, seeming to swell back to the proportions that it should have held were it not for its vampiric status. But then the swelling ended, and the dragon shuddered a moment as if it were recovering from some great internal battle. “Clever attempt, pale one”, the deep voice of the beast boomed out into the room, “but I am no so easily defeated… Still you will not die yet, I shall let you watch some of these pawns first.” It was then that the dragon became aware of the giant spider that was attempting to plunge its fangs into his skull. With a casual motion one of his great claws simply came up and plucked the arachnid away, before crushing the armored carapace and causing the spider to leak a foul fluid to the floor. Suddenly though the rearing dragon felt a jabbing of something that could approximately be considered to be pain. He looked down at the hacking figure of Skafloc that was chopping again and again at his stomach. “Will you humans never learn?” Lamented the Draco-Pire for a moment before it bit down at the barbarian again, this time following up with a pulverizing downwards blow with his huge claws. “I cannot be stopped, nor can I be truly harmed by the likes of you human”. Mid boast though Avelaer’s flurry of arrows struck it around the head, dazzling him with the light of the holy enchantment. It was this same holy enchantment that caused the dragon to roar with pain as a pair of the missiles that struck him pierced through the bony structure around his head and burned the undead flesh below. The distance that Avelaer shot form rendered him immune to the effects of the death armor that swirled around the dragon, but Skafloc of course was not so lucky, the blackness reaching out to him and striking at his life-force. Llana’s spell, as deadly as it was though left no chance for the great drake to resist the magics, and the bolt of glory, composed of energy from the positive energy plane, seared into the middle of the dragon’s being, and it staggered backwards a step, almost crushing Fade as the nimble fey’ri attempted to clamber up onto it’s back. “Sunite witch!” Roared the monster towards Llana, heedless of Jonas who was able to use this time to clamber up onto the base of the behemoth’s tail. “I will devour you, feathers and all for that assault!” Instead of focusing on her exclusively though once more the beast hurled on of his massive wings towards her, the undead flesh hissing through the air as the limb crashed into her once more and sent her spinning through the air. One of her ribs gave under the assault, and her mouth suddenly tasted of blood as the true force of the attack became apparent. His second wing slapped down towards Caine, and the blow buried him face first into the dirt, where he lay face down and unmoving, the rank water flowing around him. As the werewolf lay still the Dragon seemed to smile somehow, though it would have been virtually impossible to tell given the fangs involved. Reaching down with one of his massive claws the undead beast brought a ball of darkness into being around the downed warrior, something that would certainly hinder any rescue attempts that may have occurred. |
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| Darkwind | Dec 14 2006, 10:20 PM Post #263 |
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Native
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Dealing with a beast like that, that can end your existence with a single attack, the trick was to not be there when it struck. Fortunately, Greg had just the thing--a spell of short-range teleportation--which was invaluable in tactics against large groups of enemies--he'd used it against the fey'ri when he hunted them alone--or one big one. On a steeeeck. As he'd shown himself to be among the more dangerous of them, he expected the vampire to attack him sooner, rather than later. So now would be a good time to cast the spell. As he began to speak the words, it occurred to him that if he could only draw the dead dragon's attention away from the others and make it chase him around the room, they might regroup and be better able to challenge it. So when he finished the casting, he shouted back. "You turn away? I am your opponent! Come get me if you can and taste final death! Your mother was a gecko, you dim-witted wyvern! Come on!" It seems his arrows were able to do some damage, at least, so he kept pumping one after the other. It's not the huge weight that breaks a cammel's back, but a little straw. |
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| Mwa13 | Dec 15 2006, 08:19 AM Post #264 |
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Crazy webslinger
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Jonas made his way up the drake's spine, all the way up to it's neck, hoping it didn't notice him walking on it. He had his daggers ready in his hands, he had twirled them into the right position, and he plunged the blades into the undead monster's neck, putting all his force into it, using his body weight as a leverage. |
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| Pamela | Dec 16 2006, 11:55 AM Post #265 |
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Molly
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Llana had had a moment’s brief hope when Greg’s spell visibly shook the dragon, but merely took a deep breath when it became clear the battle wasn’t about to end just yet. She groaned in sympathy for Skafloc, then Caine as she saw the enormous damage they were taking, and was briefly, selfishly glad that Karosin was still not well enough to be involved in this. It was beginning to look like an exercise in mass suicide, and they still hadn’t encountered Vaerilmor himself. Such thoughts were pushed aside however; it served no purpose except as caution if the battle truly seemed to turn completely against them. This caution was completely forgotten at the delight of the success of her spell, and she couldn’t help but smile at getting a rise out of their foe. At his threat to eat her, she merely thought, Don’t promise me any favours, my friend… She’d certainly prefer that alternative to being an undead shadow of herself. This immediately gave way to the sense of impending dread as the wing came crashing down against her once more. She gasped, immediately regretting the instinctive action as her lungs filled with air and her rib digged deeper into herself. She licked her teeth, trying to take away the coppery taste from her mouth from biting her cheek. Again her hands rose in the repetitive gesture of her last deadly assault. Come now, she thought at the dragon, Forget the others, and come to me… The best of her offenses had been used, as far as she was concerned. Now she could afford to play cat and mouse; This rodent still has a few teeth, she thought with some adrenalin-inspired humour, aided by Greg's offbeat remarks. |
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| eocine | Dec 16 2006, 05:03 PM Post #266 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Posting for Mistress Elysia Fade skipped backwards as fast as she was able to avoid the clawed feet of the dragon as it lurched backwards, once more feeling the earth shudder under her booted feet. Cursing in Abyssal, she waited a moment longer before sprinting towards its hind leg as fast as she could, trying to use her speed to use her momentum to aid in the climb. She sprung up the side of the monster, using the rock hard scales as stepping stones on her path to a position that at least had some kind of a surface that she could balance on. Bracing her feet on either side of one of the scales she kept her feet wide apart in a bid to keep her center of gravity low, and then plunged down with both of her signature blades, hoping that at least one of them would penetrate the massively armored hide of the dragon. |
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| eocine | Dec 16 2006, 05:19 PM Post #267 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Trapped and having its armored carapace slowly crushed in the massive clawed hand of the Dragon, the summoned spider’s legs flailed helplessly in the air, unable to find any kind of purchase. It looked frantically for a way out of it’s potentially fatal predicament, but even with its mass of eyes peering into every direction there was nothing that could be done. Instead though it did what it had been summoned to the prime material plane to do, and bit down hard with its venomous fangs. Such a reaction was truly born from the fight or flight complex, but in truth now there was no choice, for held as it was flight was impossible… Sweeping down again from the skies above the battlefield the Air Elementals made a final run at bludgeoning their foe, but once again their attacks could not even graze the great undead beasts hide. Whirling away once more they decided to change tactics, and began to disincorporate, the airs that created them swirling over and over and beginning to form a vortex that they intended to use to buffet the dragon. |
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| eocine | Dec 16 2006, 07:41 PM Post #268 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As Anaara ran closer to the beast the innumerable silvery daggers that encircled her plunged hungrily into the hide of the dragon, the fact that they were both magical and silvered negating the normal resistance to damage that the hide of the undead had. Her smile as the blades flayed the dragon was vicious, but she wasn’t foolish enough to rest with such a comparatively small level of damage, after all though they were piercing the hide there were still layers of muscle beneath the skin that protected anything truly vital from harm. Curse that earlier battle… It had robbed her of the majority of her spells, and left her with only spells that were either designed to strengthen her at the last minute for melee combat, or frustratingly were only likely to heal the undead rather than truly damage it. The only thing that was really left for her to do was cast one of the most potent spells in a clerics arsenal in terms of aiding their combat prowess. She reached up with her left arm and clasped the holy symbol that hung around her neck, intoning a prayer as she did so. Instantly she felt her body beginning to enlarge, and her eye line raised as her height increased. Fortunately her borrowed armour and weapons increased in size as well, and she felt an aura of protection form as well… |
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| eocine | Dec 16 2006, 08:50 PM Post #269 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Posting for Castamir Once more the maw of the dragon came on, stinking of acid and burning with caustic chemicals that burned deeply into the barbarian’s flesh as razor sharp fangs tore into him, gouging fresh holes into Skafloc and leaving him bleeding wreck. Red blood washed away blue woad and dripped onto the green floor as the raging north-man attempted to swipe away some of the gore from his eyes, but the crimson mask kept on repeating over and over again, and so he merely forced open his eyes, seeing red in both the figurative and the literal sense. Unfortunately for him, Skafloc’s eyes only opened in time for him to become aware of the massive fist of the draco-pire driving down towards him with a force that verged on the godly. He barely had the time to pull his head down and raise his arms against the blow before it slammed down onto him. The top half of his body was compacted and crushed into the floor, the angle of the blow knocking him to his knees for the moment and burying his pig-fat spiked head into the soft earth. It truly was a blow fit to be any warriors end, but the rage in Skafloc did not die, and indeed only drove him on more and more. Each drop of his own blood that spilled to the floor seemed to somehow send a charge to those that remained, forcing his body onwards long beyond the point that a normal human would have faded. His massive arms forced him up from his prone position, and his face was a picture perfect expression of rage as he wiped his forearm to clear away the mud and the blood before he grasped the handle of brain-biter once more and continued the attack, his scream to his ancestors audible to all. Once more he drove the vorpal axe-head down, as he had done so many times before… So many had fallen to the blade over the years, and before he died this foul creature would join them… Join them in the Abyss… |
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| eocine | Dec 16 2006, 10:08 PM Post #270 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Instead of the anger and rage that Greg might have been hoping for all that he received for his insult was a chuckle of a cold and cruel amusement. “You human’s are ever like parasites, I remember well enough when your race was young and you people have no right to ever cast aspersions on the bloodlines of one of the ancient races, for we saw you when you were still roiling in muck and squalor, saw you when the greatest of your race almost destroyed magic for the rest of us and have watched you as you have covered the world in your filth.” Casually as he was talking to Greg the monster squeezed the arachnid held in its claws, the bite of the spider unable to penetrate the armored hide of the dragon. In seconds the hard but brittle carapace cracked and the summoned beast squealed in pain. “So you will wait until your friends have been slaughtered first before I deign to deal with you, after all you seem to wish to die, and I’m not minded to grant any of your desires just yet.” With that he drove the hand containing the dying remnants of the spider towards the form of Jonas, who was discovering that trying to pierce through the scales of the dragon was no easy task. Of course this should not have been much of a surprise, after all the hide of the vampire was virtually as thick as the shadow-dancer’s punch daggers were long. As such the dagger blows did nothing to the great beast, and that the effort had proved to be disproportional to the effect was certainly brought into view when the dragon simply crushed the spider into him, smothering him in ichor and squashing him against the rock hard armor of the beast. With a casual flick of his claws the drake simply tossed the remains of the spider off to the side, leaving Jonas covered in slime and with a few bruises for his efforts. Avelaer’s arrows continued to be pumped towards the head of the dragon, and they all seemed to be perfectly aimed when he fired them, but the massive bony plates that adorend the skull of the undead invariably managed to turn the vast majority away. However one of them did strike home, sliding between two of the plates to lodge into the flesh just above one of his eyes. As a human might wave away a fly the beast simply flicked the magically imbued arrow free and it bounced off his scales as it fell to the floor. At least though Avelaer had the satisfaction of seeing his attack do some damage, which was more than could be said for Fade. Flipping her blades over in her hands she drove their points down as hard as she could and prayed to the God of Mischief that they would find their mark. Unfortunately if Erevan Ilesere was listening to her then he had clearly decided that it would be more amusing to let one of the blades penetrate just enough to let the tiniest droplets of blood appear, and then be followed by a surge of blasphemous energy that would bite into her and sap a portion of her life away. The same damage flowed over the raging form of Skafloc as again his massive axe drove through the undead flesh of the dragon, of course though he was at least getting a pay off for his damage. Still he was paying for it in spades, and his boots were wet with his own blood, and more and more of it was spilling as each second went by… And there was more to come… In retaliation for the attack the massive and razor sharp claws slashed across his chest and stomach again, leaving yet another trail of blood behind them. It was then though that things got even worse for the barbarian, and the jaws of the dragon closed around him lifting Skafloc into the air and holding him in the razor sharp and acid covered fangs. Instantly the smell of burning skin assailed the barbarian’s nose and he could feel the skin literally being ground from his bones… The clerics now made their moves, Anaara making her way across the blood smeared floor with the ring of magical blades encircling her. As she brought the daggers into range of the dragon the spell formed blades seemed to eagerly dive into its flesh, but the actual damage that they did was nugatory when compared to that which her Sunite counterpart managed with her own spell… Llana’s second bolt of glory struck home, and again was devastating to the necrotic monster. Lances of pure white energy streaked out of gaps that were torn into the flesh of the beast, and it staggered again, forcing Jonas and Fade to struggle to keep their balance, and Skafloc to be impaled ever more deeply on the creature’s fangs. Given that the presence of three hundred pounds of barbarian muscle somewhat negated the chance of the dragon forming an understandable sentence. As such it fell upon the dragon’s wings to do the talking for him, and they both crashed into the winged figure of Llana, sending her spiraling through the air. |
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| Darkwind | Dec 16 2006, 10:20 PM Post #271 |
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Native
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ooc:Greg casts Consecrated Chain Lightning. Avelaer repeats his full attack. Greg shrugged. So much for that idea, but let's see how the beast talks when it feels the burning of his consecrated attack. Taking out the same crystal rod and sheepskin he'd used earlier for a focus, he launched into the casting of Chain Lightning--for though there were no other targets to be had, the spell's damaging power was formidable, even reduced by any resistances the dragon likely had. As he cast the spell, he enhanced it to change half of the electrical energy into holy power. "Your time is coming to an end; your kind must face extinction. You cannot survive, you must die--that is the rule of nature!" |
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| Pamela | Dec 17 2006, 08:55 AM Post #272 |
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Molly
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Llana gasped when the undead wyrm seized Skafloc in its jaws; she knew that the spell Anaara had cast would keep him going long beyond what was humanly possible, but she would need to be quick- and alive- to prevent his death. She’d begun to raise herself up against the approach of the inevitable, looming wing- but hadn’t been prepared for the other to join in the assault. The one blessing of their swooping together upon her was that she was buffeted backwards from the force enough to protect her wings and torso. One of her legs coiled up, as if trying to spring upon the draft, leaving her left leg exposed as the two leathery flaps came together. Her tibia and fibula were crushed, and she cried out briefly. As tears streamed from her eyes, she could feel the stabs of pain that shot through her nervous system as the black sails pulled back. At this point, she lost coherent thought; her thoughts were jabs of instinct. Fight or flight- and a second later her hands were weaving into a spell once more. She wasn’t being unusually brave or suicidal; some deeper thought saw that retreat would not guarantee survival. Besides, her husband was still incapacitated, and leaving him was tantamount to sin, personally and religiously. The redhead’s fingers blindly fumbled for her holy symbol as she quickly gauged the injured and their proximity to each other. She and Skafloc, held like a doll in a wolf’s mouth, were too far from Caine to include him in the spell. She looked back up at the dragon’s maw, and a smile crossed her face as she raised her holy symbol, positive energy crackling from it one more time. Waves of healing energy flashed out in an arc around her, washing over herself, the barbarian…and the dragon’s head. |
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| eocine | Dec 17 2006, 12:20 PM Post #273 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Groggily and painfully the werewolf pushed itself onto his knees out of the mire, every bone in his body aching, and most of them feeling as if they were on fire. The impact of the blow had momentarily knocked him out, and when he came to the first thing he felt was an overwhelming wave of nausea, but this soon passed. But the dimness in his vision did not, and the werewolf feared that he’d been struck blind somehow, and reached up with his clawed paws to gingerly check that his eyes had not been put out by the blow… Everything seemed to be in place though, and so he assumed that it had to be a magical effect that had robbed him of his sight. Were it not for the red hot fury that still infused his body it would not have been inconceivable that the battle would have ended there for the lycanthrope, but the rage forced his shuddering legs to lift him from his kneeling position to a standing one, and his sensitive nose easily picked out the dusty and dead stink of the great beast… Though even had that not done so the sounds of battle would still have pointed him in the right direction... Summoning his rage around him he howled a battle cry and charged in the direction of the battle, his clawed arms whirling frantically in front of him, determined that he would hit something and just keep on swinging until he could do no more. Then his head emerged from the magical darkness, and his eyes cleared… Feeling slightly foolish for his panic, and no less angry for that, the werewolf came forwards at the dragon again, aware that it seemed to now be holding the human barbarian in its jaws, but ever aware that it still had its claws free. Looking down at his own claws he knew well enough that he was out-matched, but this would be a good death, and one that he would embrace… He leapt towards the beast, claws outstretched once more. |
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| eocine | Dec 17 2006, 12:51 PM Post #274 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The obsidian skinned cleric watched curiously as the Sunite went back to the same glorious well as she had previously, and met with the same success as before. She recognised well that the winged being was strong in her faith, and wished idly that she still had spells of that power to call upon, but her own spells were depleted, and that thought filled her with a combination of dread and anger. Furthermore she had to wonder exactly what the future would hold for her even should they win out in this combat. There was no way that she could know… When the coast was clear she could ask for guidance, but for now, there was only the battle…. Anaara’s magical daggers continued to weave in and out of the Dragon’s flesh the priestess of Lolth decided finally to attempt to bring her borrowed blade to bear on the undead beast. As such she lunged forwards to make her attack, her dirt- and dust-spattered white hair streaming out behind her as she advanced. Holding the short-bladed sword over her head she brought it down again and again, aiming at one of the rare spaces between the armor-like scales. The trouble being of course that the monster would never be still, and as such the infrequent weak-spots were ever-moving and hard to hit. |
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| eocine | Dec 17 2006, 05:33 PM Post #275 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Posting for Mwa As the dragon reared to avoid the magical assault from the deathless sorcerer, it instantly became a source of consternation for the two planar beings who were perched on its back and unfortunately making no inroads into actually piercing the beasts hide. Their footing was suddenly lost, and Jonas lost sight of Fade as he fought to keep his footing, but unfortunately one of the muscles in its sides flexed at precisely the wrong moment and his foot missed its step and his arms flailed at the empty air for a moment before he spiralled off the side of the great dragon. Years of training though kicked in as he fell, and the shadow-dancer tucked his head into his chest as best he could, and made sure that he was rolling through the impact when it came. Jonas’ momentum took him through the roll and he came through onto his feet, then started to sprint in the direction he was facing, putting distance between himself and the vampire. Once he was out of range of the innumerable sharp and pointy parts of the dragon he span around and fired another slew of crossbow bolts towards the beast. In truth he didn’t hold out much hope that they would strike home, but even providing a distraction was better than nothing. |
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| Pamela | Dec 17 2006, 05:55 PM Post #276 |
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Molly
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Posting for Mistress E. Fade’s grimace of concentration broke into a grin at the first sight of blood she’d managed to draw. Finally, she thought- until it seemed to turn black and envelop her hand, leaving her fingers cold and seemingly numb for a passing moment. This shock tore at her blindless rage, and she began to turn to the others, to see if they were faring any better or if perhaps they might have any damned weapons they could spare her for this onslaught. The wyrm’s words of disdain about humans struck a chord, as she recalled the world of millennia past, when House Dlardrageth hadn’t deigned their assaults upon the human settlements as worthy of the term ‘battles’. It almost seemed a shame that this creature hadn’t been an ally for her family in those long-ago days. She spared a glance at the bladesinger, wondering if he’d yet clued in that this was the original inhabitant of these quarters, and that he’d been welcomed as an equal by the moon elf’s own kind. Those days however were long gone, right or wrong, and this creature was undoubtedly a valued ally of Vaerilmor. She hissed when she saw Skafloc, her closest ally of the band, in danger of being torn to death, his life’s blood streaming off his limbs and spattering the creature as even now he continued to slash at the brute. She then turned unconsciously to the woman who so reminded her of her lost, beloved Keita. Her crimson eyes widened as she took in Anaara’s magnified size, and again her heart fluttered with pride and a lost longing as she saw her equally maligned companion now giving her all even now in this battle for people who mistrusted her motives. The flash of the silver daggers broke through that line of thought, nudging the temptation of treasure to the fore of her thoughts. The hoard was surely buried in the swamp behind them; it would take forever to hunt it down. But surely there might be something stored in the desk- or perhaps the crippled assassin would spare her a weapon, considering how useless he was right now? Any lip and I’ll mug him, she promised to herself, looking at the tattered state of the party. After all, there’s no time for that, she justified to herself, almost hoping he would. She spared one last look at the landscape of black scales before leaping almost reluctantly to the grass and sprinting towards the laboratory equipment. |
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| Castamir | Dec 17 2006, 09:38 PM Post #277 |
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Native
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Skafloc had long lost all sense of self preservation, in fact he no longer possessed much sense at all, which was perhaps lucky considering the circumstances. He was completely possessed of his anger, a vicious, brutal and all consuming rage that left no consideration for anything other than murdering the hell out of the dragon, and the fact that he wasn't in a particularly promising position meant nothing to him, except that he should try harder. He could no longer feel a great deal of anything below his neck, though was sure that he could feel the thing's teeth grinding against his ribs every time he drew a ragged breath, each of those filling his nose with a combination of his own blood and the chemical smell of burning flesh. It hadn't occurred to him that perhaps he should already be dead, it only occurred to him that he was still alive, and while that was the case, he still had a job to do. He couldn't shout, he couldn't take a big enough breath, but he grimaced, clenching his blood flecked teeth in effort as he tensed his neck to stop his head being thrown around like a rag doll, focusing as well as his blood filled eyes could on the creature's own baleful eye. "Fuck you too.." he muttered as he flailed at it with his axe. It may not have been the most artful insult, and perhaps not the most skillful of axe strokes, but under the circumstances Skafloc didn't think the gods would hold that against him.. |
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| eocine | Dec 17 2006, 10:46 PM Post #278 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The purified magic of Greg’s consecrated Chain Lightning leapt towards the Dragon from the pale sorcerers out stretched hands, and instantly the massive beast reacted, one flap of his massive wings lifting the beast just high enough that the magical electricity was unable to ground itself. Still the holy energy that had imbued the evocation did its job, and the vampire’s cells were ignited by the touch of heaven for a moment before the negative energy that bound his form together reasserted its dominance, but not before significant damage had been done. "Our time is eternal human, for my people are the very essence of magic, even more so than the elves that forged this place…"This belief was one of the tenets that the dragon had ever lived by, and was one of the few things that the chromatic and metallic dragons could ever agree on. That there were dragons at the beginning of Toril, and there would still be dragons there as its time came to an end, whenever that would be. Which was far more than could be said for the human race and all of their various offshoots. Cracks had by now begun to appear in the necrotic body of the dragon, and it was one of these gaps that Avelar managed to find with one of his own blessed arrows. The others however were not so fortunate, and so clattered away off the armour plating that adorned the skull of the dragon. This time though, despite the fact that the arrow smouldered and burned in his skull, causing tiny curls of smoke to float upwards, the dragon did not reach up to brush the arrow free, so pressed now on all sides was he. As if to drive this point home the werewolf emerged from the darkness, smeared in the thick mud and blinking at the sudden return of the light. The expression on its face was one of befuddlement at first, and then anger as the torrents of rage washed over it once more. Still, furiously angry or not the attacks still had no effect, Caine’s claws proving yet again to be unable to actually penetrate the hide of the dragon, who barely even deigned to glance down in his direction. The behemoth’s reaction was actually much the same towards the now giant figure of Anaara. Though the magical daggers still tore away at the creature’s flesh they didn’t actually penetrate deeply enough to be considered much more than a very minor wound. Still they did significantly more damage that the short-sword that she slammed again and again into the dragons side. One of these blows did penetrate, but once more the reactive spell that the dragon had earlier cast did more damage to the cleric than she managed to do to the undead beast, a sudden eruption of living darkness emerging from the wound and grasping her hand, robbing her of a portion of her life-force. The Tiefling shadow-dancer Jonas, who had also earlier managed to experience the numbing touch of the draco-pire’s death armour, had managed to get clear of the beast, and rather than risking the chance of feeling that pain again had resorted to ranged attacks. On the bright side this meant that there was no real chance of him sustaining further damage. However the negative side was that his crossbow was unable to do any real kind of harm to the beast, and while one of the bolts did manage to penetrate the scales the resistance to all metals but silver that the monsters vampirirc nature gave it meant that the bolt was only able to open a tiny hole, no deeper than a few millimetres in the hide of the dragon. Brain-biter though was always likely to do a lot of damage to virtually anything, the vorpal axe blade may have been clumsily wielded, after all who could hope to skilfully manipulate such a heavy weapon in such a circumstance? But there was still a massive amount of force behind each of the blows, and the cutting edge sheared off bone spikes as it cleaved into the face of the black dragon. Whipping its head around to face Greg the dragon prepared to send forth a torrent of acid, one that would literally melt the flesh from the bones of Skafloc and then wash over the sorcerer, hopefully wiping him out too. That was the plan at least, but Llana’s interruption changed all that… A brilliant sheet of pure white pain washed over the head of the vampiric wyrm, and though its magically assisted strengths managed to allow it to shrug off the very worst of the effects, the result was still devastating. Massive jaws dropped open as the beast screamed, sending Skalfoc plummeting to the floor where he landed in a heap. For a moment it seemed like the worst was over for the dragon, but he magic of the positive energy spell was still permeating and corrupting the necrotic cells of the beast, and smoke started to pour from its mouth and nose, growing in brightness until finally there was a huge burst of light… And the dragon’s head erupted into flames. Instantly the beast plunged its flaming skull into one of the many deep pools of brackish water that were littered about the swampy scene, and the magical burning was at least suppressed for a moment… When the great beast lifted it’s head free of the pool there was blackest murder in its eyes, and all of it was directed at the Sunite priestess… Who was now looking fully healed by her spell, her leg no longer broken and a look of slight triumph in her face as she watched Skalfoc’s now repaired form pull itself up from the mire. “You… You die first”. The threat was most chilling in its simplicity. All thought of the others forgotten it launched into an attack… Slamming one of its mighty wings into her the dragon sent Llana spiralling through the air, but only into the other one, that crashed into her ribs, breaking most of them and forcing her heart to momentarily stop in her chest. One of the beasts arms came down, and clasped her left hand wing and arm, and with a brutality that was as shocking as it was instant simply tore them both away, before tossing them aside and snatching her with his other hand, that he used to squeeze her as hard as he could, bringing his massive and still smouldering head closer to her to watch as her bones popped and broke, and he seemed to smile with satisfaction as blood surged up from her lungs. Finally he released her, dropping her to the floor like a rag doll… She landed heavily, unmoving and silent. Finally the rearing dragon stomped on the prone priestess with all his might. “You will all join her in death”. |
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| Darkwind | Dec 18 2006, 02:59 AM Post #279 |
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Native
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ooc: as last round He watched in horror as the beast made short work of Llana, even fully healed. What could he do? Just keep blasting, and hope he can manage to distract it and focus its attention on himself... "You know, I'm a sorcerer. I can do this all day. If you keep ignoring me, I'll just keep blasting you. And that's even before I take the scrolls out. But by all means, keep doing what you're doing--that tactic has done so well for you." Focusing upon the crystal rod and sheepkin once again, he let the magic flow and commingle with holy energy before striking at the monster again. |
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| Pamela | Dec 18 2006, 06:53 AM Post #280 |
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Molly
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“Sweet merciful goddess,” Llana breathed as the waves of positive energy filled her and erased the pain that had been wracking her seconds before. Thank you, she had time to think, her smile transforming from relieved delight to triumph as she saw the flames erupting on the black wyrm’s head as it roared in pain, releasing the barbarian. She had another second to entertain the hope that the dragon was dying- or goddess please, dead- when it reared its head once more. She braced herself for the attack as the now-familiar but still dreaded wings buffeted about her once more. The experience of death, while eventually shared by all, varies in its circumstances. Some see its slow approach, and these may bless it for the opportunity to voice what has long been silent; others curse its long, numbingly painful toll on their bodies and psyches. Even those who live peaceful lives can be victims of a sudden violence however. Despite her earnest prayers and wishes, Llana’s last thoughts were not of Sune or her husband. As the dragon filled her physical horizons, her mind was swamped with pain and shock, and a distant impulse to raise her holy symbol in healing once more. Flesh tore like a cocoon, and yet another soul was suddenly free. |
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| Mwa13 | Dec 18 2006, 08:17 AM Post #281 |
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Crazy webslinger
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Jonas watched in horror as the dragon simply squeezed the life out of Llana. The dragon was more powerful than he had imagined. He didn't know what to do now. All his efforts were meaningless. For the first time in his life he felt giving up on everything. His shoulders hunched down, his crossbow was pointed to the ground, no grin on his face, just an expression of horror and lost hope... Something snapped in his mind at that moment, as if someone had slapped him across his face. He even thought he felt the burning sensation on his cheek, which he actually did. He had slapped himself. His mind had sense left enough to make him snap out of it. This was not the end. It was time for retribution, time for revenge. A friend has fallen in battle, now was the time to make the dragon pay. Jonas' menacing grin came back onto his face and he started chanting words, putting his crossbow momenteraly aside so he could use his hands. He pointed with his hands at the darkest corner and chanted his words, summoning an image of a giant from the shadows. If nothing else, the image might work as a distraction. At least he hoped it would. |
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| Castamir | Dec 18 2006, 09:53 AM Post #282 |
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Native
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Skafloc fell. It was quite a long way, but the ground he hit was soft, soft enough for him to sink into it, though the relatively soft landing didn't really matter because his nerves had long since given up transmitting pain impulses to his brain anyway. He frowned, and then raised his head. A feeling of warmth was flooding through hs body, and suddenly his breath came easier, his vision was cleared and he realised he was healed. He rose to his feet, spattered in a multitude of gore, a lot of it his own, smeared warpaint, and mud, like some primal creature rising from the depths. He was upright in time to see Llana literrally pulled apart and crushed. The effect it had on Skafloc was more profound than any of the physical pain he'd endured, because he knew that he was only in the group to stop that happening, he was there to get between the magic wielders and the enemy, and while he had been helpless to stop it, one of them had been killed. It wasn't the first time in his life he had been unable to protect those he was supposed to. He howled with anger, his heart pounding in his head like a furious drumbeat as he picked up his axe and ran full tilt at the behemoth with his usual route one efficiency, swinging the vorpal axe over and over at any place on the creature's hide that showed some damage.. |
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| eocine | Dec 18 2006, 09:20 PM Post #283 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Whilst the others had been getting involved in a life and death struggle against a gigantic vampiric dragon, Karosin had been becoming more and more familiar with the pain that continued to leak from his joints into the rest of his body. He found that if he sat totally still then the pain, whilst still utterly excruciating, was just about enough to be borne without crying out. Any kind of movement though was met with burst of pain so extreme that they were quite literally nauseating. This is maddening! Thought the assassin to himself as he sat in silent stillness waiting for the pain to finally subside. Years of training himself to be able to remain totally motionless were proving to be a true boon, but even he had to force himself not to drum his fingertips on the floor. To pass the time he tried to focus on something else, anything else frankly, but the pain continually dragged him back into the present. Perhaps everything told it would have been better if the damage had not been cured, for shock would surely have kicked in by now, and that at least would perhaps have worked to quell the relentless pain… Llana’s dagger still lay by his side, and he pondered the gesture with a growing sense of unease, mostly because he knew what the blade could do, and why she had left it with him. The most frustrating part of this whole thing was that he couldn’t move at all, and if he couldn’t move then he couldn’t see, and if he couldn’t see then he had no idea at all how the battle was going. All he had to rely on were the sounds of the combat, and the spoken taunts that went on between the two sides. Continually he listened out for the voice of his wife, reasoning of course that as long as she was talking then she was still alive, and he’d learned long before that in certain battles that was truly all that could be hoped for. Threats and mockery abounded from the undead monster and the deathless sorcerer, and Karosin listened to it all with a feeling of helplessness at the situation. Helplessness that mingled easily with the fear at his incapacity and worry for his lover’s safety. Finally he heard the screech that came up from the deflated lungs of the undead dragon and felt a flush of cheer upon himself as he hoped that it was a cry of defeat. But it was not to be. The threat from the monster caused his eyes to open wide, and instantly a bolt of pain seared through his body. I can’t even use my eyes properly?!?! Was the incredulous internal response as he unashamedly internally prayed to Sune that it was not Llana on the end of that promise. Then there was nothing to be done but listen to the roar of fury and the loud pounding of feet on the floor as the sail like sound of massive wings sweeping through the air pervaded everything. “Her?” His voice croaked for a moment, earning another shot of pain that was easily shrugged off as he felt his blood run icy cold. Perhaps there was a moment of premonition involved, perhaps subconsciously he heard her gasp in pain at the dragon’s attack, or perhaps it was simply a case of assuming the very worst that could happen would happen. Either way he found himself suddenly half sure that the dragon spoke of his wife… Skafloc’s howl perfectly coincided with the ending of the magically induced pain that had kept him down for the majority of the combat thus far, but this was such a sudden surprise that it took him a few seconds to truly grasp the fact that he was no longer hindered by the same bolts of pain that had been accompanying him now for what felt like an age. Twisting his body as quickly as he could he span around, turning onto his knees and then pushing himself backwards onto his feet. Still though the board that the various implements of autopsy were mounted on obscured his view, and so he darted to the side, feeling his heart beat in his chest as he tried to convince himself that the ‘her’ the dragon had been speaking of had not been Llana. As soon as his view was clear his eyes scanned the skies for the sight of her floating on those glorious red-gold wing that the spell bestowed upon her. There was however nothing to be seen, and his stomach twisted viciously and a cold numbness flooded into his arms and legs. Perhaps though she was simply on the floor healing one of the others? Frantically now he played his eyes over the battle field, but there was nothing to be seen… Until he suddenly picked up a flash of that familiar reddish gold, and spotted one of her wings laying strewn across the swampy land like so much detritus. Then he spotted the other, poking up at an odd angle from beneath the massive hind leg of the dragon. Then he saw the red dress that she’d been wearing as well, and finally her hair. It was perhaps a mercy that her head was obscured by one of the dragons toes. Dead… Dead… Always a pale man, his face was now sheet white, and would have even rivalled Greg’s deathless form for a lack of colour, but more than that now it seemed that the colours in the scene he was seeing were being bleached somehow, as if they had lost their lustre in some way. In some way his emotional mind slipped away at this point, and he looked up from the corpse of his wife with dry eyes, eyes devoid of emotion and hatred, but narrowing with a focus and an intent. Near silently he whispered a few arcane words, and instantly a sheen of blue appeared over certain parts of the undead monster. OOC; Effect of Fleshshiver on Karosin ends, moves out from behind the rack and sees Llana, then casts Find the Gap. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Dec 20 2006, 09:31 PM Post #284 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Upon hearing the Draco-pire's chilling promise, the resultant cracking of bones and the resultant howl, Fade slowed her sprint, turned and watched in horror as she realised the cracking sound had been Llana's body breaking. The fey'ri watched as the Sunite's now lifeless form dropped to the ground as if in slow motion, and for a moment felt as if she were rooted to the spot. Hearing movement behind her, time seemingly flooded back into the world and the rogue spun back around, only to be confronted by the pale, still, form of Karosin. She recognised the hard look in his eyes; the rigid set of his mouth; the paleness of his skin. She knew his need for revenge, to tear into the one who slew his loved one. She also knew he would regret it in the long run and punish himself later if he took that particular path. She knew she did. "Karosin!" she near barked, blocking his advance, knowing that time was short and that the chances were he would ignore her anyway. "You need to go to her; if you don't and we don't find a way of restoring her, you'll regret it for the rest of your life!" she held out a hand "If you've got anything that'll hurt that bastard, give it to me. Better me on that thing than you... She needs you now, Karosin. If this fight gets any worse and we need to retreat, she's going to need you to get her out of there. Otherwise she doesn't stand any chance at all. She needs you. Go to her!" |
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| eocine | Dec 22 2006, 05:11 PM Post #285 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Caine looked up as the undead horror tore through the priestess as if she were no more than wet paper, and for the first time he truly felt like fleeing from the battle, for more and more did this have the feel of suicide. Yet… Yet his rage was still not slaked, and could he truly run when the elves and human’s remained? His own body was damaged hugely, everything ached and his mind felt aflame with the various pains that shot through him, but there was still something that drove him to continue, fury stoked by agony and injected with pride. Howling in rage rather than remorse at the death of a woman he didn’t know the werewolf came on once more, striking furiously at one of the cuts that Skafloc had earlier made and attempting to widen the gap with both tooth and claw. ----------- Above the werewolf the Elementals watched the fall of the priestess with concern, though it was more due to the fact that they recognised that a powerful ally had fallen. Furthermore despite their own best efforts there appeared to be little enough that they could actually DO to the beast. Their blows simply seemed to bounce off the hide of the dragon, and they couldn’t rob it of air as it didn’t breathe… There truly was little else to be done but attack again though, and they swooped in once more… ---------- Anaara watched open mouthed at the display of power from the dragon, and marveled at the destructive force of the beast. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and her heart beat in her chest in fear at the display, and she felt her resolve start to slip in the face of the vampire. No, strength is all, she hissed into her own mind, trying to truly convince herself of that fact. Whilst they remain I must go on. Her red eyes scanned the assembled males and she forced her top lip into a sneer in a bid to disguise the sudden gleam of fear in her eyes. She turned slightly in time to spot Karosin emerge from his hiding place and the sneer became genuine at his cowardice in hiding himself away from the battle, only emerging now after the priestess had fallen. Idly she wondered for a moment if he and the Sunite were lovers, and she laughed coldly at that thought. Love wasn’t enough to give the male bravery enough to battle this dragon… Feeling buoyed by this superiority over the dark haired male human she turned back to the dragon just in time to see the ring of daggers flense another portion of the scaly hide away. Hacking down hard into the wound that the magical silver blades had opened up she attempted to make the wound bigger, her physical strength now noticeably greater due to the many spell enhancements that she had undergone. |
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| eocine | Dec 23 2006, 02:29 PM Post #286 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“I have no reason to doubt you sorcerer, but I am a creature beyond your ken, and I cannot be defeated by the likes of you”. With that the undead monster turned fully to face the sorcerer, and opened wide his fanged maw. There was a momentary pause, and the neck of the dragon seemed to swell momentarily, before a veritable torrent of acid boiled up from its throat and shot out with startling accuracy in the direction of Greg. Where the final remnants of the acid attack dripped to the floor they seared away the grass before sinking into the mud, sizzling and boiling the earth as they did so. Despite his retaliatory strike though the deathless sorcerer’s own eldritch attack made it through, and the vampire once more felt the curious pain that the undead experience when the touch of something holy and pure is brought to bear against them. Every part of his negatively charged body that was brushed by the blessed lighting seemed to burn, and it staggered backwards again as the great rents that had already started to appear in its hide were simply made wider and wider. Wide enough that they made a decidedly tempting target for all of the gathered… Avelaer’s arm came back again and again as he concentrated his fire into these gaps, but even they seemed to be in some way protected, and only two of his arrows struck home, the rest apparently repelled by some kind of magical protection. Still the holy missiles served to pour yet more damage into the body of the dragon, and the flesh that the arrows were embedded in began to pour smoke up towards the ceiling. The attacks of Caine and the Elementals continued to be little more than irritations to the undead though, and there seemed to be nothing that they could do that could actually harm the beast, their best blows simply bouncing back off the hide of the dragon. Lucky for the barbarian Skafloc, brain-biter wasn’t prone to failing to penetrate the hide of anything, and so it cleaved again through the hard scales of the beast, spilling blood and that horrific blackness that poured free with every wound. Nevertheless though he was still doing damage, and enough of it that the dragon once again earmarked him for death. At least once the sorcerer had been dealt with… The Drow had also done some damage to the monster, though in her case it was entirely due to the spell that continued to encircle her and drive dagger after dagger into the beast. The borrowed blade that she wielded though was worth nothing to her, and simply seemed to spring back with every attack she made, no matter how hard she seemed to strike the beast she could seemingly do nothing… Yet… Certainly the dragon didn’t appear to be long for the world at this time, the magic’s of Greg and Llana, coupled with the sheer physical brawn of Skafloc had pushed the dragon close to the edge, and on that edge it now teetered… All that was needed was a final push, and surely the beast would be vanquished. Perhaps the giant that the shadow-dancer had summoned from the darkest places of the room would be the answer, and the dragon pivoted to take in the new assailant, lifting its rear claw off Llana to do so, and exposing the ruin that now resided where once had been beauty. The draco-pire looked at the new adversary for a second, but then became aware that something about the creature felt odd… Or rather there was something missing from the giant. “You think to fool me with mere illusion do you?” Mocked the dragon to the general air around them, “These ears and this nose tell me much, and they tell me that your newest companion is no more than a shadow.” With that he turned back to the battle and prepared to attack anew… |
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| eocine | Dec 23 2006, 02:56 PM Post #287 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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If the assassin heard the fey’ri he gave no sign, simply sweeping past her as he started to run over the boggy ground towards the massive dragon, leaping forwards over a patch of sizzling earth as he did so. The spell that he’s cast the round before was a strange one, in that it simply worked to show the caster the areas that the armor of the beast was less than perfect, and to his eyes they were lit up in a bright blue, one that seemed to drag the eye towards it. In truth it was this knowledge that had let him discard the words of Fade so easily, for he had often said over the years that he trusted himself over all others to accomplish things. This was something that had changed slowly during his time with Llana, but in the moment of her death the oldest habits were easily reborn, He had often wondered in his more macabre moments how he would react upon her death, and as one who had been forced to look inside himself at his darkest aspects more than once he had long suspected that he would react with cold fury and numbed chill. It did him little good to be proved right in the event. Virtually flying past Skafloc he used the dragon’s own claw as a launching pad before he leapt into the air, the black blade of shadow-secui extended before him, and on his face a look of total concentration. The armored plates of the dragon’s throats were uniform and strong, but to Karosin’s enhanced sight the slim gaps between them seemed to glow like miniature beacons, and so it was that he swept the bane-blade across in a horizontal arc towards one of these planes of weakness. |
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| Darkwind | Dec 23 2006, 04:45 PM Post #288 |
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ooc: Greg uses his active Greater Dimension Door to teleport as far as he could to a position behind the dragon as a move action. Then he casts Synostodweomer (swift action) to convert a casting of Lightning Ring (standard action) to 8d8 points of healing--you roll or tell me to do it. Avelaer keeps firing. As the acid streamed toward him, Greg tried as hard as he could to get out of its path, hoping that the ring he wore would help him avoid all damage altogether. Now, he wished he'd cast that protection against acid. He was not successful and bore the full force of the dragon's attack. Incredible pain spread all over his body, threatening to overwhelm his mind and shut down his brain. What I get for taunting a wyrm... Fortunately, it was not enough to destroy him, though he could not withstand another such assault. Time to get out of range--what was he doing so close to the front line, anyway? He called on the spell he'd cast earlier and summoned another dimensional portal and stepped through it to emerge on the other side of the dragon, facing its back, and well out of range of its breath weapon. Though he could see that their adversary was close to being even deader than it was already, he decided not to risk ignoring the damage he'd just suffered. Although currently out of range, he could quickly become in range should the dragon move after him. Time to pull out another ace out of his sleeve--a magic most arcanists could only dream about: the synostodweomer. The Symbul developed it, but how many wizards could have the opportunity to study it? Once he'd heard of it, however, and of how it worked, he merely applied his will toward re-developing it for himself. With his intuitive understanding of magic, it wasn't too difficult. And how many times had it saved him during his quest against the fey'ri? A swift casting, really little more than preparing to change the energy he would next pull from the Weave into positive energy, he followed it with a sacrifice of another one of his most powerful spells. It worked perfectly, and the healing soothed away some, though not all, of his pain. |
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| eocine | Jan 1 2007, 12:47 PM Post #289 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Once more, as he had done again and again in this battle the werewolf Canie tried to summon that wall of ferocity and rage that had seen him survive battles that were far beyond what he should have been able to live through. Unfortunately though he found his will struggling to hold onto that fury, and finally the last of it slipped through his fingers, exhausted by the continual need to press down on that pedal of anger. For a moment his facial expression registered nothing but surprise at the fact that his heart rate had slowed and the adrenaline no longer surged through his body. Once he had recognised what it meant though he gained a look of true fear, finally able to see the great beast without the benefit of the red mist by which he had earlier viewed their undead opponent. One final gaze towards the acid-dripping maw of the dragon decided the next course of action, and rapidly the werewolf followed his first instincts and dropped back from the battle. Even as he did so though he became more and more aware of how injured he was, something that his raging body had shielded him from by flooding his system with endorphins. Whimpering painfully he pulled himself away and collapsed to the floor in a heap, watching helplessly as his body saturated the floor with blood. |
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| eocine | Jan 1 2007, 01:12 PM Post #290 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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If the Drow cleric noticed that one of their member had left the immediate field of battle to collapse into a bloody heap then it certainly wasn’t reflected in her actions. Lips curled back and displaying gleaming teeth she swung again and again at the creature, hewing as if her life depended upon it, which in truth it probably did. Again though the encircling blades dove into the dragon’s hide, flensing it away, and she slashed her blade towards the opening cuts. Things weren’t going well, and frankly she had to consider looking for a way out, she recognised that, with the Sunite cleric downed that there was no chance at all that she would be brought back to life… Still though, if she did survive and they had no other method of resurrecting the downed red-head they would certainly be beholden to her… Yes, and from that position she would certainly be able to accomplish much. It was this possibility more than anything else that kept her in the battle, for if she fled there was also a chance that, were the group to win, they would attempt to track her down, humans could be rash in that way… |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 1 2007, 05:15 PM Post #291 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Shaking her head in frustration - frustration that Karosin hadn't seemed to hear her, and frustration at her own inability to do any more than superficial damage to the monstrous draco-pire - Fade desperately tried to wrack her brains for a way to help the others bring the beast down. She didn't have anything to enhance her strength - the one thing that may have made a difference - and her weapons were near useless; this was the one time she wished she hadn't been so single-minded about their enchantments with regards to whom they might hurt the most. Abandoning her attempts at trying to reason with Karosin, she simply skipped back into the fray, trying to locate already open wounds that she might be able to make worse, dreading the cold touch of the black miasma that oozed from the creature, but more determined than ever to at least help bring the beast down - it was the least she could do for Llana. |
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| Mwa13 | Jan 2 2007, 10:33 AM Post #292 |
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Crazy webslinger
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Jonas stared at the dragon, grunting some colorful Sigilian cursing proverbs into the air as his distraction mostly failed. He had hoped it would've caught the dragon's attention for a longer time, but not this time. Jonas grabbed his crossbow again, hoping that he could find an opening to put the bolts into the undead drake's flesh. |
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| eocine | Jan 2 2007, 10:05 PM Post #293 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Jonas’ crossbow bolts were well aimed, and precise, but the problem in penetrating the magically enhanced hide of the dragon persisted, and they simply managed to dig into the tough skin but no deeper, leaving the giant beast looking more and more like a pin cushion with ever passing moment. Unfortunately for Avelaer he met with no more success than his planar counterpart, his own arrows also clattering off the massive armored plates of the draco-pire and spiraling to the floor. Nevertheless he was at least proving to be a distraction to the beast, and several of the shafts that had earlier dug into the head of the beast still smoldered and burned away the necrotic flesh there. Ignoring these continued ranged attacks the vampire instead focused on those that continued to engage it in melee combat… Including the Fey’ri rogue Fade… The acid dripped maw of the dragon reared back into the sky for a moment, before it flashed down towards her like a striking snake, all sinuous power and aggression. Massive fangs closed around her, slicing through the leather armor she wore and beneath that ripping her infernal flesh wide open, the remnants of his acid breath searing inside those cuts and introducing her to a world of agony beyond the imaginings of most mortals. Despite that though she managed to flip the enchanted blade Tholdagnir around in her hand, and plunge its flawlessly honed blade deep into the eye of the undead creature. Rotten humors gushed forth from the wound and slathered her arm in a stinking and blackened putrescence. The roar of pain and indignation that erupted forth from the dragon caused the jaws that had entrapped her to drop Fade heavily to the floor, from where she could certainly see the damage that she had wrought on the creature, and watch as its mighty neck whipped back and forth as it attempted to adjust to the fact that it had been blinded on one side. Perhaps luckily for the rogue it lost her during this flailing, and instead affixed its sight onto the assassin who had just used one of his own claws to provide momentum for a pinpoint strike across his throat. The blades’ enchantment meant that the normally resilient flesh of the dragon parted easily, and the cut was deep and the sword penetrated virtually to the hilt, inflicting a wound that would surely have been mortal had the beast not already been dead. Infuriated beyond belief by the fact that another wound had been inflicted upon it the drake lashed out with one of his massive claws, Karosin was nimble, quick and agile, but these mattered little against the flashing talons of his opponent, that in truth resembled nothing less than a siege weapon. A siege weapon that crashed heavily into him seconds after he’d landed from his leap, and sent him flying forwards as he frantically tried to regain secure footing. Before that could happen though one of the great wings thumped heavily into his back and continued his momentum as he was forced to tuck into a forwards roll to regain his balance and properly get his feet beneath him. By this time though the attention of the undead had been detached from him, and instead was directed towards the Drow cleric, whose spinning circle of daggers had again sliced open a gash in its side. His other wing was raised high into the air for a moment, before flashing downwards straight onto the cleric, slamming her downwards into the wet and foul mud, where the glutinous slime caked her white hair and covered her face, leaving her momentarily gasping as she spat the dirt from her mouth. The sight of the previously flawlessly clean Drow having to swipe the dirt from her eyes would probably have been more likely to draw a smile from Greg, who saw the whole event, were it not a part of a life or death struggle. Nevertheless though it remained entirely possible that, were he and the others to survive this battle, at a later date the memory would raise a chuckle. On the bright side though for the sorcerer the spell that the Witch-Queen of Aglarond had developed served to cure him of most of the acidic damage that he had taken from the caustic breath of the dragon. Skafloc had watched the goings on with both an increased sense of both rage and frustration… Feelings that grew exponentially as one of the huge claws of the dragon shot out once more towards him and raked down across his back, leaving a distinct impression there of a well furrowed field… It was at this point though that the damage that the Fey’ri had earlier done paid off hugely, for the great beast tried to track the movement of the barbarian, but to do so it had to whip its head back and forth to try and focus on him with his one remaining eye… The honed muscles of the barbarian suddenly exploded into motion as the dragon dropped its head to seek him out… Brain-biter’s edge seemed to glow as it was driven though the air towards the deep wound that Karosin had already opened in the neck of the draco-pire… It seemed that Skafloc had found the dragon before it had found him… Vorpal edged and magically enhanced metal cleaved through necrotic flesh, and then undead bone, and the heavy head of the beast shuddered once as if trying to shake off the blow, but the barbarian was relentless, and even the taste of long dead blood on his lips was an intoxicant now as he hewed down again and again at the serpentine neck of the beast. Trying to lift its head clear the beast turned, but the damage had been done, and the bone cracked along one of the massive slashes that had previously been inflicted, causing the cranium of the creature to loll for a moment, held on by a sliver of bone and layers of muscle… Layers that were suddenly and brutally severed. With a wet thump the head of the dragon dropped into the swamp, and its body started to dis-incorporate into mist. |
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8:48 AM Jul 11