@ManoftheNorth@Renny@eemmtt@Roughdragon1

The rat ogre was quick to respond to the myriad of threats. It's great bulk and bulging muscle did well to hide the quick nature of a rat backed into a corner, with ferocity to match. The lycanthrope easily broke through the lumbering swing as the Rat Ogre tried to swat the beast midflight, but failed to even clip its much faster opponent. Ripping and tearing in a snarling mass of fur and claw, the Ogres leg buckled under the furious assault, collapsing onto its back as it raised the snarling lycan into the air (still attached to the ogres leg) and grasped it in one meaty hand, pulling it with enough force to dislodge the snarling creature and launch it across the courtyard nearly to the entrance to the dwarven citadel.
Ignoring the horrible stinging in its leg, the rat Ogre managed to roll onto its stomach and swat at the youngling with the sword and shield, lunging forward to pound the worked stone beneath its hands into dust as it roared its own fury. Significantly slower, its leg torn down to the tendons by the wolfs assault, it was all the Rat Ogre could do to fend off the Orc and the swordsman at once. Even a near miss would send either one stumbling back from the weight of it.
Unable to focus on all sides, it failed to notice the dagger wielding assassin lurking at its back.

The Dwarves watched in awe as fury met fury. All but Stokley. Breaking through the shield ring of his loyal protectors, he charged forward and brought his axe down on a swinging arm of his ancestral foe. The sharp axe succeeded in taking off a finger before he was nearly tossed back. Not that he would ever allow it! The weight of his ancestors was upon him as he roared a song of battle as he joined the valiant groups effort to fell the powerful monster.

"Swing, Lads! Die, lads! Use your blade or club to KILL THE RATS!" He rhymed in a typical dwarven tune, determined that he would not allow these strangers to claim glory all to themselves.


@berd@Hammerman@Rekaigan

Skritch Greatscar, Grey seer of the great Horned Rat and deity of all Skaven, squeeled in delight as the Lycan tore into its servant. Foolish man thing! No humans could stop a Rat Ogre in close combat with so few numbers! They knew no fear, little pain, and were brimming with chaotic magic. But not as much as Skritch was.
The buzzing of insects alerted it to what was coming. Not sure as to what, but not caring, Skritch slammed the staffs butt end on the cobblestones to release a gout of sick green flame. The unholy flames circled its Skaven summoner to become a shimmering bubble of chaos, the bees would never be able to touch it. Arrows would bounce off before doing any damage or simply be incinerated. The only threat came from a burst of pure flames atop to the greenskin charging at its Rat ogre!
Skritch turned its attention to the priestess who could cleanse disease and spread flames at whim, its unearthly green glow focused solely on that foul wench. It would be broken and returned to the tunnels with him, Greatscar decided, to become food for the ratlings.

A flourish of his hand was all it took to conjure a green fireball the size of a persons head. To which it promptly let fly at the witch. If she did not avoid it, the pyroclasm would surely destroy her entirely.

Marianne's eyes widened when she saw the green flame suddenly appearing, protecting the shaman by surrounding him inside it. She quickly withdrew her bees, letting out a quite unladylike curse in the process. Thankfully, only one or two failed to retreat fast enough before they got burned to a crisp.

Now, the shaman had turned into an unassailable target, at least not with her bees. Once again, she considered summoning her mantis but she had promised that she would only use it when she was in a real pinch, and for now, the situation was still quite controllable.

She looked at the rat ogre, finding it now lying on its stomach. It seemed Grendrick had done his work, as it now certainly had a significantly reduced mobility. And speaking of the Lycan, where was he? She couldn't see him-- oh there he was. It seemed the ogre had thrown him off for quite a distance. It must have been quite painful, and the lycan would be out of commission for a while.

She then noticed Sylvia sneaking towards the creature. It being quite distracted before, she managed to get close without being attacked at all. And now the dwarves had joined the fight, distracting it even more.

She decided it would be wiser for her to join the assault on the rat ogre. Thus, she sent her bees towards its eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Their orders were to enter and unleash hell inside, no doubt causing terrible pain to the creature. She knew this would result in her bees being covered in some filthy, sickly ogre goo, with some of them maybe even getting stuck inside, but it would be the most efficient move as the ogre's thick skin and strong metabolism would decrease the effectiveness of her bees' poison. A direct physical assault inside would be more effective.

She noticed some of the dwarves were hesitating to continue their assault when they saw her bees swarming the creature. So she shouted to them, "Don't worry! My bees wouldn't harm you!". She wasn't that confident in the strength of her voice, as she really never shouted around in her entire life unlike common kids playing on the streets, but it seemed the information reached them nonetheless, and they charged back in towards the monster.

@Zelosse

Ayse smelled the oily green flame before she saw it. She broke off her magical assault on the rat ogre and dove to the side as the stone she'd been standing on were reduced to a glowing, molten, slurry. Ignoring the bruises she'd picked up in the graceless dive, Ayse found her feet again and let her flames crash against the barrier. She had the sinking feeling that it might not be enough.

She was exhausted. Her magic was running low. The Shaman seemed unassailable behind his shield. Things seemed bleak. Things had to change.

She saw Marianne directing her bees against the rat ogre and a new idea began to bubble up. She'd said that her power had to do with influencing and empowering insects, but was that all? Could the noblewoman reinforce her instead? Ayse providing the spells while Marianne supported her in power. It certainly seemed like a sound idea.

"Marianne, can you grab hold of my staff? I have a plan."

Fariha was close to her spell-casting team-mates, but she kept her distance. She felt that it wasn't wise to stick so close to one another, especially when dealing with a rampaging beast and another spell-caster. She analysed the scene. The Rat Ogre was more or less covered, literally and metaphorically by her allies. So attacking it now would be difficult for her, for she feared that she may injure someone unintentionally with what she was about to do.

The elf noticed that the rat shaman had covered itself in a vile looking, green flame which acted as a shield. It had launched a spell at Ayse, who managed to dodge it. Perhaps with quite a lack of finesse, but she couldn't expect such things of everyone. The archer took in a deep breath as she drew her empty bowstring, sliding her right foot back and lowering her body. To many, it might look like she had gone mad, trying to fire a bow without an arrow. But they would soon realise her plan.

The center circle of the Five Fold lit up upon drawing her bowstring, she stopped at full draw. A pale white glow ran across the string, starting from the string nocks and meeting at her fingers. The light grew in a straight line from her fingers to her left hand that held the bow, slowly taking on the shape of an arrow. As the arrow formed, the body of her bow began to glow as well; she waited for a few moments before releasing her spell. The force of the shot pushed back at Fariha, but her lowered stance had prevented the force from pushing her off balance. She breathed heavily, lowering her bow. Her magical pool wasn't large enough to sustain her spells, but it was truly the only solution she could think of at the time.

Against these unholy flames, the arrow of light should be able to penetrate and perhaps kill the shaman. However should the flames be strong enough to withstand the arrow, they would surely be extinguished for some time.

As the healing flames hit Gormarr the orc felt his strength coming back as the poison was burn out of his body. The pain that was cause by the fire was used to fuel his rage as he lunge at the rat ogre. Gormarr silently cursed as the rat ogre threw the lycan off of it. 'Its quicker than it looks' Gormarr thought as he barley avoided one of the abominations charge. The orc grimace at the situation the ogre is still up, his rage is slowly fading, and the skaven shaman had joined the fight. But Gormarr notice Sylvia sneaking up behind the rat ogre. 'Like hunting a mammoth' Gormarr thought before rushing the rat ogre to keep it distracted while Sylvia deliver a killing blow the the abomination.

Marianne smiled when she saw the effectiveness of her attack. The rat ogre began to roar in pain as it tried to shoo away her bees from stinging its weak spots. Even a horrid creature like it could still feel the burn and itch gathering in its nasal passage and mouth wall. And it couldn't see very well at all as it was blinded by her bees who swarmed right in front if its eyes, making it swell and filled with tears.

She was surprised that such a creature could cry, really.

Turning her attention back at the shaman, she noticed Fariha gathering her strength as she was going to send a magic arrow to combat the sickly green flame that protected the creature. At first, she was confused on why Fariha's bow didn't have any arrow in it as she drew the bowstring. But then, when she saw the light gathering inside the bow, she understood right away. Magical arrow. Against higher level enemies, it would become an absolute necessity as normal arrows wouldn't even bother them.

"Marianne, can you grab hold of my staff? I have a plan."

Her thoughts were interrupted with Ayse who had suddenly approached her. She didn't see her coming at all.

Another note to my weakness, I suppose. Lack of close-range alertness when concentrating on the battle at a distance.

She asked her to channel her mana to her, seeing how her own mana was running low due to her casting all those spells before.

"Sure," she answered with a smile, "But I don't have that much mana, I think, so I cannot give you much. I need to save some for my mantis."

Marianne's mantis was her safe button, so to speak, in case an enemy got close to her while her bees were away. Losing that would mean she would become easy picking, which she certainly didn't want to become.

She then put her hand on Ayse's staff, focusing her mind and energy towards it.

@berd

get to work!

@thedarktemplar@ZekariVoblis

Rift area: Forests of Delru, Overrun Elven outpost
Current monsters: Goblin horde, wolves, hobgoblin
Difficulty rank: Average
Objective: Eliminate the invading goblin tribes by killing Goblin Shaman "Snagglegrim". Currently located in the upper canopy lookout.

Rain fell hard everywhere it breached the thick tree canopy, an endless cascade of water obscuring vision even further in the thick darkness of the abandoned forest. The current rift was about an outpost that had been taken over by goblin tribes after the elves were forced to abandon it in the coming of the Orc lords. Their numbers too spread out in the warfront, the elves had agreed to give human mercenaries at the time carry out their own attempts to recover the lost lands in return for keeping whatever they found intact.

Goblins roamed the outer grounds in groups of 3 and 4, all had stolen elven weaponry in hand with makeshift armor covering their chests. Crude but effective, the little creatures had the intelligence of a small child but made up for it with ferocity and quite an alarming amount of cleverness for such a pitiful race. It was speculated by the advanced scouts that had met up with the two lone mercs that the shaman in control of the many tribes was holding onto their fragile alliances with a weak grip.
If it died, the tribes would slaughter each other to extinction until a new leader was found. That was the only reason goblins had never taken over anything for long.

A back entrance had been utilized, placing the duo in the armory located at the center of the living but now desecrated tree. A total of sixteen goblin guards had been executed within the armory and their bodies hidden back in the tunnels so as not to arouse suspicion. The bulk of the goblin tribes camped at the lower levels, so it was only a few handfuls of the runty creatures left. The most loyal to the Goblin shaman.
Directly outside the armory was a small escort of goblins armed with torches and swords. Following the outer route of bridges and walkways would mean conflict at every step. If they found the staircase amid the many rooms and barracks located on the upper levels, they would encounter the sleeping goblins easy pickings but could risk being discovered and summarily overrun.

Sylvia was right behind the ogre, and she now realized how small she was compared to the muscle-ridden, berserker of a rat.

If that thing grabs me it’ll… she didn’t want to finish the thought. She saw how savage the normal Skaven were, from the Dwarf corpses on the ground. She didn’t want to imagine what the infinitely more barbaric ogre would do to a fragile human such as her.

She shook such thoughts from her head.

If I do this correctly, I won’t have to worry about such things.

She quickly scanned the ogre’s back, noting the several bumps that represented its spinal cord. If her knowledge was correct, the higher up the injury to the spine, the deadlier it was. She weighed her options. He couldn’t simply slash at the spine with her dagger; the bone was too thick, especially for a beast of this size. The blade would simply fail to cut into the bone. She had to jam her dagger deep into its spine, to sever the nerves within and paralyze it.

She took a deep breath. Such a simple thing as stabbing a lumbering, quarter-wit rat in the back was a difficult thing to, especially since the ogre was thrashing around due to Marianne’s insects and other such distractions. If she missed, which meant missing the spine and striking flesh, it would instantly alert the ogre and spell agonizing death for her. She knew she couldn’t dodge as fast or fight as well as the others: Her skill lay in her ability to conceal herself and strike when it was the most essential, to put all of her energy and calculation into a single, critical hit.

She raised her dagger, aimed for the gap between two vertebrae, and brought it down into the ogre’s back with all of her might, praying that her shot was true.

Grendrick was now at the mercy of recovering from his being thrown. He had suffered some injuries and now he laid dazed and knocked far from the fight. He was at the entrance of the Dwarven citadel, those Dwarves who had went back to guard the gates were now staring down at the beast that was Grendrick. He writhed for a moment in his hazed sense of reality, while his vision flickered to the foggy scene of the distant fight. However this would not be his end and it would not be his release of this fight. He refused to let his kill, HIS prey be killed by another. This was one of the driving forces that boiled Grendrick's blood, however something was working at his mind. He was slipping from the conscious world all the while a voice whispered to him.



The voice was so surreal and yet unbelievable all at once. The world was blanketed into a deaf hum as the voice spoke to him. It whispered and wavered in his ears as they twitched for the origin of the voice. However he grew saddened.. not even angry at first, at the lack of an origin for this voice. It was the voice.. it was HER voice. It was by far the only voice he cared to hear about at all, as it faded into silence, his sadness deepened and he felt his rage overcome the sadness. His thoughts stemmed into the past of the voice's moment and then it catapulted to the present and his situation. Her situation, his own, and everything in between.. it was all too much for him to bear at this one moment as he was weak for once. He had suffered a moment of ideal weakness in the name of something he had tried so hard to forsaken, but even in these times it holds to his heart.. all he could do was drown in it out with his anger and rage, and that brought him to his feet.

The beast lurked from a moment as it drew up from the ground all the while blood seeped and spilled to the stones below and growling startled the dwarves all around it. Grendrick was shaken but not unfaltering as his vision began to clear and his mind eased into a clarity that revealed the fight in the distance and his injuries. His ribs were broken across both sides, not all of course, but many were in mangles and pieces. One on his left side was a mere centi-meter from his lung, while three on the right side had punctured outward and let blood trail down to the ground. These were combined with a few fractures across his body and the bruises from the throw. However there was the blood of the Skaven on his fur and the air, and the blood of the Rat Ogre filled Grendrick's nostrils more than anything else. He was still on the hunt, and as he surveyed his target he found Sylvia deploying a smart attack to the spine, but it wasn't as well planned as one could hope. A Dagger as small, despite it's sharpness, would never pierce the muscle, tendons, and cartilage of the beast with the ease. The Rat Ogre gave the slightest shake as he felt the dagger hit his skin and caused the blade to slide and sink inbetween the layers of muscle, preventing any spinal damage altogether. However what happened next is what made Grendrick angry, as he was forced to watch the Rat Ogre peel a massive arm back and reach for Sylvia. Grendrick could not allow such things to happen, even if she did avoid the initial arm, the Rat Ogre would not allow her to move far away from him with ease.

The action was quick, but Grendrick had to be quicker, if anything he had to be quicker for himself whether Sylvia mattered to Grendrick or not wasn't important once his feet met the ground. He was now sprinting, once again he was forced to close the distant between himself and his enemies, all the while he could see the party and the enemy. The Magi of his team had the Shaman on his defensive and yet they were prepping to foil his defenses already. Grendrick's half of the team, the more physical half, were putting up a hell of a fight against the now enraged Ogre, but even that managed to barely slow the monstrosity as it attacked towards Sylvia. It would seem Grendrick was too far from the fight, up until his emotions were pushed aside, the sprint was growing shorter as he closed in and from the time of the voices, to now, he had cleared his thoughts of everything. He was finally refocused, and he was ready to make his point entirely.

The wind felt like a dust storm, as it crashed and collided almost instantly, it was intense to be right next to them, but wouldn't be felt more than a few inches away from them both as they collided. Grendrick and the Rat Ogre were now locked together. Grendrick intercepted the Rat Ogre as it had tried to spin and latch Sylvia in one of it's massive hands, but all it found was Grendrick's claw-sinking hands latched around it's own. The two were same the height, and the two were both fierce, but Grendrick now had the key to victory resting within him entirely. He had finally let go, fully let go, and was unrestrained more so than even when he first attacked. He clutched the Rat Ogre with a strength that rivaled the Ogre's own and he held the monster back from attacking his allies, all the while Grendrick's lupine growling voice rang out to those nearby.

Nove just barely avoided the Rat-Orge’s knee-jerk swat and even still the backlash of the blow had sented him sprawling back head-over-heels. He came to a halt after a sluggish moment. With it, the disappointment and frustration of his weakness rushed in like a great wind. He brought his forearms crashing into the earth with a huff as he readied for his counterattack.

He had others to think of. Others that could support him and vice-versa. But if he was too weak to even accomplish his first rift-dive than of what use was he to anyone? Dammit! Sir Siph, said go low and the top would follow. But what happens when the top is whipping ass on the way down?

With a stab to the earth, Nove pulled himself up to his feet and charged forward to attack once more. This time his gaze darted around for anything he could take advantage of; anything that could make taking the giant down easier.

... But was it pointless?

Everyone was attacking at once. It was chaos on the field and he didn’t want to add to it. So he skidded to a stop and begin to really put together the pieces to everyone’s individual actions. Was there a method to the madness here? And where was Sir Siph at? How was he taking the downpour of enemies, comrades, and other complexities on the field. Nove felt like he should look to the greats for inspiration.



Grendrick fighting with all his might. It was a source of fuel and realization; now he knew that there was no plan. At the moment, all they had were their guts and vigor. So he trusted in those feelings, deciding to pour all his power into helping Grendrick. He had faith that some small part of the Lupine would remember him, would choose not to competently destroy him. He just had to wait for an opening to strike was all.

Ayse's hand wrapped around Marianne's with a vice grip. Her other hand gripped lower, steadying both herself and the staff. As their manas mingled, the flame at the end of the staff ceased its flickering and began to burn blue.

"Think about what a flame is Marianne. Others might tell you that a flame is a thing of chaos. That's just untrue. Fire lives, breathes, and dies just like we do. Fire is merely ambitious. It seeks to be more than it is. Let our combined fire feed on our ambition. The force that drives us to be more than we are. Sometimes that means giving of ourselves without holding anything back."

"The shaman's flame is a sickly thing. Feasting on its own corpse and his self-satisfaction. Let our flame be the tip of a spear to set against his shield. To harry it, to push it aside, and to stab at the heart of such a vile thing."

With their powers combined, the flame shot through the air once again to try and pierce the barrier.

@Hammerman

@Renny@ManoftheNorth@Roughdragon1@eemmtt

The Ratkin Ogre was fearless, relentless, an unstoppable creature responsible for crushing hundreds if not thousands of unruly beings with its massive bulk alone. It knew only victory. Had tasted only the whip of its master and the blood of its many dead enemies. Not once had it been overtaken in combat, in its many years of life, had it been forced to the ground so quickly. An unthinking monster though it was it could still realize the biggest threat.
The wolf creature.
The dagger to its spine was keen but met hard resistance, eliciting a screeching howl of pain and anger as it tried to twist back and grab the enemy. But there were so many. The dwarves had circled it with shield and blade forcing it back even further. The enraged Gormarr was its physical match in strength and stamina, seemingly inexhaustible as the greenskin threw itself into an almost self destructive series of swings and chops. Every hit the Ratkin Ogre took brought it closer and closer to the end. Already it could no longer support its massive frame on its injured leg. Desperate to win, the Rat blocked an attack from the Orc with its own gargantuan arm. The axe head struck hard and sank deep but was now firmly lodged in the thick muscles.
Its next attack was brutal, to say the least. The dwarf with the Shiny axe roared his battle song and struck hard at the beasts chest, drawing a deep cut. But the beast had let its enemy in.

Its free hand came down hard as the Stokley swung again. There was a sickening crunch and the sound of bending metal as the heroic Dwarf was crushed into the cobblestones. A backstroke of the same hand threw the ring of dwarves away like leaves on the wind, though it would take no lives. The ratkin was desperate to escape the ring and slaughter its enemies. It was so close.

Its gaze turned to Nove (though it could barely see or breathe anyway) and it lurched forward, ignorant of the greenskin that would likely kill it. Ignoring the annoying creature with the knife at its back. It would take one more life! One more kill! One more victory!

Grendrick collided with his foe hard enough to stagger the beast to its full height. It instinctively tried to keep its balance as the werewolf tore into it with fervor. Had it not been mangled by the previous attacks, damage to its back and legs, chest, everywhere upon the beasts body bled freely, it may very well have thrown off the wolfs attack once more. But it was not to be.
The beasts leg buckled under the duress of its own weight coupled with the new one, its balance lost, the Ratkin tumbled back hard. Already it was fading. its body was heavy. So heavy.. The light finally began to fade from its eyes as its chest no longer rose and fell with breathe.

The Dwarves cared not for the dead Ratkin. They rushed to their commander, some teary eyed as they gazed at the mangled body of what was once the leader of the fortress. Not even the presence of a Rat Shaman, their most hated enemy, could pry their gaze away from their fallen leader.


@berd@Rekaigan@Hammerman

Skritch Greatscar laughed at the feeble attempts of this ragtag group of casters. Their flames were WEAK. Pitiful manlings, they die. DIE! Nothing could overcome his power! The horned rats power coursed like a waterfall through every inch of its prized acolyte. When Marianne joined in with her own magic power to enhance the fires own destructive force, Skritch was put on the defensive.
But that did not mean it was beaten!

The circular globe of flames wavered and reformed, going from a sphere of flame covering every inch of its caster, to a more concentrated wall of green flames in front of Skritch. The staff in its hand glowed with more power as it cackled, easily preventing the feeble attempts of the amateur sorcerers from penetrating its-
The roar of its Ogre slave caught its attention for a moment too long as Skritch turned to observe what was happening. It turned just long enough to catch the arcane arrow to the chest, breaking its concentration on his barrier. A shower of glowing flames accompanied Ayse and Mariannes piercing fire. The purifying flames washed over the Rat Shaman like a tidal wave, its dusty molding robes igniting instantly as it screamed and wailed in pain.

"YOU- YOu- PAY PAY!" It screamed and thrashed as it rolled on the ground, discarding its robes as it instinctively fled. Its own magic had prevented it from being fatally wounded, but it was a coward first and foremost. Skritch was over the ledge and down the ropes from the initial invasion in a flurry of burnt fur.

Siph watched with a satisfied smile.
All thats left was for the looting. Of course, this rift was not finished. The Dwarves had begun carrying away their fallen leader with a somber look shared on all their faces. One dwarf, aged and grey haired, limped to the group as he shook his head. Sif met the fellow and they began to chat.

"I.. We.. The Dwarves.. We thank you. Your group has slain and driven off a powerful foe that might well have killed the lot of us.."
"They are a decent group, no?"
Surprised by the mans cheerful expression, Byron Doubleblade simply shook his head. "Aye. But these rats will return. We're sendin' a message ta the king. With commander Stokley down for good.. Well. We need help. Ain't go' no right ta ask this, but please. On behalf of all o us. Enter the fortress. We are going to destroy the entrance and seal off any further attack from this area. Come in and help us clear the lower halls!"A shout from the back brought Byrons attention away. With a wave, he saluted Siph and hobbled up to his group and barked his orders. A runner broke off from the main group to announce the others.
Siph continued to smile as he viewed the group. They would have a chance to recover and heal before continuing on. In all, the barbarian was more than a little impressed by what he had seen. While they could certainly have complimented each others fighting style a little more, the group had worked together to overcome not one but two powerful beings of the multiverse in short order.

Marianne felt a certain warmth flow through her as she channeled her mana to Ayse's spell. She closed her eyes after hearing her explanation, trying to imagine what she was saying. Imagination and concentration were the basics of the art of weaving spells. For experienced mages, they could do it instantaneously without even thinking about it, but for beginners they had to really think what kind of effect their spell wanted to achieve. Marianne herself had never managed to cast a single spell, even though she could channel her mana just fine. She was pretty sure she had concentrated and imagined properly, yet for some reason she was unable to do it in the end.

But now, she was merely lending her strength to Ayse, so she hoped the spell she cast would be successful.

And indeed it did, as a flame manifested in front of them, before firing off towards the shaman. It crashed against the shaman's sickly green fire, struggling to pass through to burn its desired target. Marianne could only watch as their flame slowly lost its strength, failing to pierce the green flame which was now enhanced by the shaman.

...Only for Fariha's arrow to distract the shaman, allowing their flame to burn through, hitting the shaman straight on. It burned its coat, causing it to panic and it trashed around on the ground, trying to put it out. Of course, a magical flame like it wouldn't so easily surrender to something like that. In the end, it discarded its coat, the flame now have reached its fur, as it ran away, leaving the battlefield without looking back a single time.

Marianne couldn't help to find the whole sight grimly hilarious, as she stifled a laugh.

"We did it, it seemed," Marianne said to Ayse, "Though we wouldn't have succeeded without Fariha's help. That shaman's magic was quite strong indeed."

Marianne's thoughts were soon returned to the rat ogre. It seemed while she was concentrating on the shaman, the beast had fallen as well. She welcomed back her bees into her dress, saying to them that they had done a great job. Of course, she tried to ignore the sticky sensation of some of them that had the unfortunate fate of receiving the beast's snot and saliva when they entered its nose and mouth.

She approached the corpse, finding a couple of objects scattered around its dead body. A dwarven handaxe, a magic ring, and some gold. So this is the thing called "loot" Father was talking about, she remembered. First she looked at the ring, reading the inscription written on it. Lucky for her she had been taught to read magical runes. It seemed its effects would be to increase the efficiency of mana usage of its wearer. That would surely help if she decided to use her mantis, as it could stay longer in the battlefield. After wearing it, she looked at the axe. It was quite heavy for her, but she decided to take it anyways as she wasn't using her hand for anything else. It could help in a melee combat, though she really hoped it would never come to that. As for the gold, well, it went straight into the pocket of her dress.

She then noticed the dwarves standing there, grim and sombre etched on their faces. She looked at the body they were carrying and she immediately knew the reason. Their leader had fallen when he combated the ogre. Perhaps if she wasn't focusing on the shaman, she could help him with her insects somehow. But alas, it wasn't to be, it seemed. There is no sense on dwelling what could've been, she thought.

She then saw a dwarf talking to Siph. Since they were pretty close, she could hear that the dwarf asked them to enter the fortress as the skavens would surely return. She could agree to that, especially seeing how this rift wasn't over yet.

"Well at least we're inside now", Djin muttered to himself as he scanned the corpse littered armory. Old elven weapons and armor strewn amidst the slashed open goblin corpses.

"I'm surprised by how rowdy they are. Still, one must admire ferocity in battle I suppose." Ailsa spoke. Well, her head anyway. Moving another goblin corpse into a fair secluded area, Ailsa's body came forth as it wiped its hands off on... well tree bark considering there was no actual cloth.

Leaning against the door, Djin listened to what sounded like the footsteps of another group of goblins right outside. Their ramshackle armor clanking together as they dragged their weapons behind them. "Yep, and it looks like we'll see more of their ferocity soon enough. It's a long way to the shaman and I doubt the others will more inclined to let us pass than this lot", Djin stepped away from the door, making sure not to trip over anything that might give away their position. Looking back into the room once more, he realized the actual mess they made while dispatching their first group of goblins. "...yeah, let me help with this", he said, picking up a pair of bodies in the process.

The dullahan, while far from dumb, had never been one to turn down adversaries. The moment that her current companion mentioned the oncoming group, she drew her sword as her head took a face of confidence. "They may have a knack for vigor for a battle, but so do I! Now, it's time to-!" She said with a slowly fading look of eagerness, only to realize that her companion was doing the admittedly better thing and helping to move the bodies. Sheathing her sword, her face had a look of an embarrassment as her body moved forth, carrying more corpses. She was silent before an awkward cough and having moved about 4 more of the bodies. "Admittedly my mistake. Got ahead of myself." Her head talked over, which was still placed in the center of the room, occasionally looking around to make sure they weren't missing anything.

"Happens to the best of us, to be honest I was about to do the same but realized the need to take care of this lot first", Djin at this point had already dumped the first pair in the corner and was pushing another group along the ground in a heap. "This might not be the best environment for it but i doubt we'll get much downtime from here out but maybe some introductions are in order?", satisfied with the already stinking pile of goblin flesh moved into the impromtu corpse corner, Djin stood up and looked towards his companion's body only to remember her head was on the ground.

"Of course. Father always told me that when it comes to meeting a possible brother in arms, you must introduce yourself." Ailsa's head said as it hopped to meet the man's general direction. As her body ran over after placing 2 more goblins behind some tree bark, she bowed and extended her hand. Though she failed to take note of the goblin blood that was still upon it, so not exactly the cleanest hand to shake. "I am Lady Ailsa of Snowgael, daughter of the nobles of Snowgael. Yourself?" She said, not fully mentally realizing the fact that her head was kinda...not there. On her body.

"Djinsuir Ibn Al-Ghumari of The Omujin Sand Sea," shaking her hand with a bow he quickly added,"you may simply call me Djin. You are a dullahan, yes? I've heard of your kind but never met one until now, a pleasure." Djin returned to the room for a moment, one final check before turning back to Ailsa...rather her body. "It seems that our business here is done. Shall we proceed?"

"A pleasure as well to meet someone from the Omujin Sand Sea. I only heard but tales of them as a child." She said as she checked around for any last bodies or things they may be forgetting. She drew her sword as she could hear the apporaching footsteps of the goblins. With a grin, she nodded. "Let's. Hopefully these give a bit more of a challenge." Right as she was about to leave however, she took note of an important fact. She kinda sorta left her head in the room. With another bow, she put her left hand up. "Um...One moment." Running back and returning with head under her arm, she once again went into her battle position. "Apologies. Now let's go!" She announced as she ran down the path with sword drawn.

After cutting a bloody path across the walkways patrolled by the shaman's sentries, the two warriors arrived at the entrance of the shaman's chambers. With a firm kick the door gave way to reveal their target and Djin, with a look of sheer frustration and anger in his eyes spoke,"Nadan uhr khasht Ilinnayt afatriat ytho daq tierna rhythak nan!". A myriad of foulness in his native tongue spewed forth at his enemy. It wasn't so much that the path here was difficult, but the annoyance of having to deal with skittish, bloodthirsty goblins atop walkways made for small folk.

"Language!" Ailsa's head said over to her new companion Djin.

Grendrick's collision was one of a mighty power against a foe believed to be mightier than himself to the others. Grendrick felt no such thing in his mind however. He laid into the beast as it was staggered, the back-stepping Rat Ogre was met with feral slashing. Grendrick's arms were shipping from side-to-side as he lay into the enemy, his claws carried out laters of flesh and muscle as he made deep ravines in the body of the enemy. Blood sprouted into the air like a spring of water as the Lupine eviscerated his foe. It wasn't until the Rat Ogre's leg buckled that Grendrick let up on the fury of his frenzy. This was the opportunity for an Alpha's kill, the show of dominance.

The Rat Ogre was already dying, it was a certain to fall even without Grendrick oncoming attacks, but Grendrick desired to make an example of this Rat Ogre. The mighty Rat fell to it's knee, the other leg trying to hoist it's weight up once more, but failing to lift the hefty creature. It's arms pressed to the ground and it's body, trying to move it's posture and do all it could to fight back while taking a stray swipe at Grendrick. However the Lupine merely stepped to the opposite side of the arm and then unleashed his final actions upon the mighty Ratkin.

Grendrick rose to the climax of the fight with a swift set of movements that ended the Rat Ogre, and yet they were still the brutal rampaging actions of a Lycanthrope. These actions were flawless in their execution though, as Grendrick leaped and gripped into the neck of the Rat Ogre with his right hand. He used the grip as leverage as he flung his body up and then down onto the back of the enemy all the while digging his feet into the back of the opponent and shredding it's flesh. As this happened Grendrick's hand tightened around the throat of the goliath Rat and he tore through the flesh and muscle with a loud snarl as the beast cried out one last time. The rat squeeled and roared to the heaven's of it's Gods begging for the end of it's life to finally happen. However Grendrick kept it alive for only another moment as he latched down his fangs into the throat where he began to gnaw and yank at the jugular veins, the esophagus, and the muscles protecting it all. Those fangs ripped and dug deeper into the throat before Grendrick reared up his head and then looked to the sky, where he raised his right hand up and then plunged into the hole he had created. The clawed hand sliced through tissue and then Grendrick growled with a sense of eager joy as the arm came ripping out of the hole and he raised the Beast's heart into the air, only to drop it into his snout and exhibit an unrestrained primal nature, devouring it ferociously and then leaping off the bulk of the Rat Ogre. He was done with the life of the Rat Ogre, but he took the body by the arm and drug it a few feet and then kicked it off the bridge. Grendrick's kill was his own now. It was complete.

The Lupine was still in his rage, still breathing for the fight, his heavy panting matched by snarling and saliva dripping from his jowels as he looked over the Dwarves and his group. He surveyed them with a predator's eyes which awaited any potential attacks or actions against him. After a short few seconds passed and Grendrick saw no other enemies he heightened his body and thrust his snout into the air. What followed was the loud howl of a victorious Wolf. It was frightening to some but for most it would be seen as the howl given after a fight of territory or dominance. This was Grendrick's stand as the victor of this fight and this territory was now under his protection, which left the echoing howl that descended and ascended the Chasm to spread for what seemed like miles.

Grendrick's theatrics were over and what others would consider annoying, aggressive, or too much from him, were now ending. He was down to the business of it all. He grabbed a Dwarf by the shoulder and stared him in the eyes quite hardily while lowering his body like a feral wolf. However this wasn't to scare the Dwarf it was merely to drop the several feet he needed to match the eye-height of the Dwarf.

"Gather all the gold you can from the Skaven, and put it in a leather satchel for me. Do this, at my request. For I have earned the spoils of this fight." Grendric gave no warning or 'what if' should the Dwarf not commit to this service. It would naturally be unwise to deny such a service to someone like Grendrick, and the Lupine was confident in such realities. The Wolf then immediately pressed to the rest of the group, Siph, and the Dwarves who were pressing for their entrance into the Dwarven architecture.

"We shall all go, inside, and now. The scent of fresh blood wanes in my nostrils, and the scent of fear bellows from the chasm. This is certainly not over." Grendric spoke, but he waited not for anyone to respond as he walked and pressed past them all towards the entrance of the Dwarven Throneroom.

"By the fist of Gorrmarok!" Gormarr swore as his ax became stuck into the muscle of the rat ogre. Shifting he grip on his ax to allow his free hand to draw one of his back up sword. The orc then start hacking away at the ogre using the ax as a hand hold to gain leverage on the abomination. Grendrick quickly brought an end to rampage of the rat ogre, with a grunt Gormarr dislodge his ax from the abomination. The Greenskin begun to dig around the corps for loot. Stuffing a handful of gold into a bag, attached a dwarven handaxe onto the ax, and finally put a ring he found on. Gathering up his position he joined Grendrick in the dwarven fortress.

Grendrick’s collision with the Rat-Orge had sent a physical pressure towards him, blowing back the tails of his coat and forcing him to guard his eyes from dust and the like with his buckler. He tried to force himself into the conflict but the savagery of Grendrick’s attack left no room for him. Instead, he stood there, both fearful and astounded by the pure bloodlust. Unblinking and thoughtful.

He found he had a puzzling hunger for the strength in front of him. A most-deep desire to have such power himself. But where had it come from? Had the thirst for strength always there? lurking and prowling inside of him. As the gruesome show came to an end and the others had begun their looting, Nove strode along the battlefield, looking at the dead Skaven and Dwarves. He gritted his teeth behind his closed-lips.

What would I do with the power I crave? His eyes fell onto Grendrick, who was now lowering his gaze onto a Dwarf. In that moment, Grendrick was the whole of all his comrades. Would I protect them or end up killing others constantly for them. This ground is soaked in the blood of innocent and criminal alike...

Maybe I’m over thinking things, I should just gather some random loot and head back to Sir Siph, hopefully he can help me clear things up.

As he thought this, a caw boomed above. He looked up, only to see a bone-tailed raven overhead. Two pieces glinted in the gray sky. He narrowed his eyes hard before leaping several meters into the sky and snatching them up. In his hands were two rings, one black and the other a poorly upkept silver.

Nove scrutinized the jewelry as he made his way to the others. The small trek had brought his mind to the black ring, from it he felt a bit of relief; as if a tad bit of his aches were fading away. The silver one however felt stale. He waved a small Skaven dagger in the air, insidious in its appearance. “Can you tell me what these do?” he asked aloud, hurrying over to Marianne. “A bird dropped them from above. Must have scavenged them from the corpses.”

@ZekariVoblis@TheDarkTemplar

Don't click till you read the post.


In the highest tower of the lost Elven outpost was the lair of the shaman. The trials to get to this lofty perch overlooking for swarming horde below had not been easy, and the enemies had tried their best to be as quiet about their entrance as possible. Indeed they made short work of the patrolling goblins without raising alarm, climbed the stairways to the top, and even now were positioning to advance.
What lurked just beyond their sight had witnessed it all, from the point of entry to now. The Elven escort that had brought them here had been dispatched the moment the outsiders had left.
Such was the way of an assassin.

With the ability to mask their presence completely, she was nothing but a living shadow. A being that did not exist in the material world to the two venturing through the taken fortress of walkways and wooden homes. Her hands itched for combat, to simply murder these nuisances once and for all, but the Warlord that hired her wouldn't allow it.
They would earn death fair and square against Morgosh.

The pair kicked down the door and rushed inside the large top building, with its high walls and wide space it could easily host a hundred goblins with room to spare but inside was a single occupant. With the corpse of a goblin in stolen robes skewered through the chest by a bladed staff and propped in the air.
Morgosh stood beside the spear, his elaborate armor shining in the light of the fire and the moon shining in from a large skylight carved in the ceiling. Confident in his power, armed with his polished axe resting in his hands, the Orc did not bother turning to greet his new arrivals.

His voice was deep, heavily accented by the fat tongued beasts native language, but still clear. "You have come. For this?" The orc finally turned to view the duo, if he was surprised to see an undead he did not show it. "No goblin will command this host. We, the Orcs, claim them for our war. You two will be slain for trespassing."

The orc boldly raised his weapon and pounded his chest hard with a grunt and a snarl. "You have earned honorable deaths. Come." Taking his axe in both hands, he waited for the duo to charge.

@ManoftheNorth@Renny@eemmtt@Roughdragon1@berd@Hammerman@Rekaigan




THESURI / ARGRIMS SIEGE

The giant doors to the dwarven fortress opened for their soldiers as they escorted the corpse of their commander back to his ancestral home, one last time for the final rest of the worthy. The escort veered from the main halls and down a winding empty corridor until they were out of sight and the sound of their steel boots no longer echoed off the worn stone floors. Every room was polished and decorated with statues of golden heroes or tapestries of their peoples founding of Thesuri, the heavy slam of steel signaled the main gate had been closed as the last of the party entered the fortress.
Steel beams as thick as a dwarf and longer than the door were placed to bar the door. Engineers were already working to collapse the ceiling and seal the way for good. If the rats wanted in, they would have to find a new way.

The escort for the group was quick despite his height as rushed through the many twisting halls and gathering rooms. Vast and always on a descending slope, the group entered the throne room without being announced. The reason for this obvious breach of grace and respect was obvious.
The Skaven had breached the main halls!

The Dwarven king slew the rat faced creatures in droves alongside his loyal shield Dwarves, each armed with a heavy tower shield and a trusty sword. Dozens of Dwarves were gathered in this single room and fought the wave of rats that had initially breached the halls and were slowly driving them back, but for every rat killed there came another to replace it in mere moments as they scurried over their fallen.

The king shouted overtop the clash of steel to his soldiers, "STAND STRONG LADS! NO MERCY FOR THE RATS!" He crushed the head of one skaven who leaped over the wall without ever bothering to watch, his focus turned on the newcomers. Unlike Stokley, King Cragshield wouldn't refuse the help of ones escorted in by one of his boys.

"You lot! Shore up the line! Push hard, push fast! Tunnels gonna collapse any minute!" The king roared as he pushed past his own shield wall, all shouts and slaughter. His golden hammer and armor was already stained thick with blood as he led the charge.

The dying roar of the Rat Ogre signalled the end of the battle, but the Huntress wasn't about the let a dead animal distract her. A feeling of satisfaction flowed as the arrow pierced the Shaman's shield, she glanced at the Marianne and Ayse as the fire struck the rat shaman. They were capable in a fight, which was good to know. When her gaze turned back to the Shaman, it was clear that he wasn't dead yet.. somehow. She drew and fired a quick shot at the ratkin as he scurried away, but she missed by a hair's breadth.

Fariha couldn't help but feel disappointed as the shaman fled the scene. As a hunter, she had failed to bring down her prey. She clicked her tongue in irritation before letting the feeling dissipate. There was no point in feeling this way, and it was time to reap the spoils anyway. Hunters were first and foremost, scavengers. Although most would hold such a description with negative connotations, Fariha merely took it into stride as if it was natural.

After drinking a magic potion to restore her magic pool, the wood elf slung her bow over her shoulder before she began to rummage through the belongings of the fallen. Many of the weapons appeared to be damaged or otherwise unusable. However a sword among the discarded weapons caught her eye. It was a sword of Dwarven craft. Well made and hardly used. Perhaps the one who wielded the weapon was very unfortunate or unskilled, but that wasn't something worth caring about. She rummaged through her pouch, producing a charm which was placed onto the flat of the sword, causing it to vanish almost instantly. The huntress continued her search, collecting small amounts of gold around the field before walking over to the robes that the shaman had left behind. The robes were burnt and tattered, not that it was worth anything to begin with. Under the charred cloth was a totem and a small green stone.. She didn't really know what the stone was, but since it was on a rat shaman, it could be important.

The totem seemed different from the other rat totems that she had seen before. Perhaps this was important as well. Both items went into her pouch, she couldn't really find much else from the mess that was the battlefield. As she walked passed the deceased, a stray bladed point caught onto her hip quiver. Fariha quickly investigated the condition of her quiver. A small hole had been punched into it. It wasn't large enough for her arrows to fall out, but the quiver itself was quite old anyway. "I guess I need a new one.." She sighed, hooking it back into position.

---

The giant doors of the fortress opened; the dwarves filing in with the corpse of their commander. Fariha followed close behind Grendrick, unslinging her bow from her shoulders and readying an arrow. The interior of the fortress was somewhat extravagant for Fariha's taste. The golden statues and the tapestries just seemed quite unnecessary, but she was unfamiliar with the way royalty worked.

As they approached the main hall, the stink of the ratkin stung her nose once more. The wood elf was quick to react to the conflict, quickly firing a volley of arrows at the skavens that flooded into the main hall. Although her arrows hit their mark, it felt as though the number of them wasn't dented at all.