Darkraven

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

Southern Coast of Naqah, Niraph

When the Naqah Daemonrexiac translated what the Healer was mumbling about, Warmaster Nemrod simply froze, his large eyes staring pure death at them, red glow returning to them again. No one, not even the Daemonrexa soldiers moved a muscle, or even said anything. While such tragedy had happened before under his command, with human villagers and tribesmen burning the bodies of any Daemonrexa soldiers they encountered for fear of curses or disease or simply out of their own twisted form of respect and tradition, such incidents were few and isolated, happening to far too few soldiers to cause any form of uproar. "You superstitious, moronic tribesmen! You-!" The Warmaster boomed. Shenda and the Imp survivor had both been in deep sleep, missing out on most of the troubles in their own ward, but now even they had awoken to the sudden explosion in the room. As soon as the Warmaster had exploded however, grief, sadness and a vague form of fear took over, "Fools..."

None of the Warmaster's outburst was translated however, as the Naqah Daemonrexiac, having been put into a very tough situation, far more than what his simple rowing job entailed, decided that no one would be offended if nothing of it was translated. After another moment of silence, the Warmaster simply removed his head from the room. In the meantime, a group of Daemonrexa had pushed through the crowd of marines, into the clinic. "This is an outrage!" A Familiar cried upon seeing the condition the three survivors were in. While the Naqah had no doubt done their best, almost everything was different from Daemonrexa medical standards, and thus unacceptable. The bandages were tied wrongly, the medicine that the survivors reeked of smelt all wrong. Even the very air was filled with the wrong stench, and without incense and other aroma deemed necessary for recovery. All three Daemonrexa were beginning to leak hideous black snot and phlegm again, indicating infections. "Take them back to the ships immediately!"

The Familiar, who was the Naqah Healer's counterpart, stared daggers at him, to complement the Warmaster's hateful look before snarling at him like an animal. Spitefully flung words could be heard as the Familiar Healer was leaving, following the soldiers carrying the wounded away, "These savages and their primitive 'medicine'!" Luckily, or unluckily for the Naqah, the Naqah Daemonrexiac refused to translate these words as well.

An inexperienced and fresh looking female Mediocris who was dressed as a nurse, however, stayed for a moment, feeling sorry for the Naqah locals who she was sure had been through alot because of their unplanned arrival, "I'm sure they are grateful, foreign dignitary. They lived because of you. Life is just extremely precious to us all, and it pains us if even one is lost." Having finally found something worthy to be translated, the Naqah Daemonrexiac did so very willingly. With that, the nurse left to catch up with the healer and the wounded.

"Overseer Biara, I leave these barbarians in your capable hands. Do whatever that needs to be done." The Warmaster said before leaving the windows of the clinic entirely, making his way back to his command ship. "I will suffer them no longer." The translator simply said 'Warmaster Nemrod is retiring to his ship. Overseer Biara is now in charge." He waves a hand over to a dark-skinned Succubus who was quite tall and Amazonian with fiercely toned muscles bulging, no doubt a Succubus that had spent more time in the military than she did on stage, behind a writer's desk or in a harlot's palace. Her arms and hands were covered in silver-gilded armour to preserve their use in combat, and her helmet seemed invulnerable and well decorated. Her greaves were similarly ornate and well designed to preserve the lower half of her legs. Her hooves were in silver gilded steel shoes that lengthened them, the shoes ending in blunt spikes for balancing, jewel and as make-shift weapons. However, like Shenda, she was otherwise entirely naked from neck to thigh. A pair of broadswords hung on her back on leather straps coming from the armour on her arms.

"Everyone leave! I need to speak to the elder. Alone." Biara ordered, and very quickly, the 5 maniples of Daemonrexa soldiers and her fellow Overseers obeyed her command and went outside. When the Naqah Daemonrexiac turned to follow everyone else, she pulled him back and ordered him to stay and close the door behind her. Being the most senior and loved of the Overseers, she was deeply respected, second only to Warmaster Nemrod. When she was finally alone with the Naqah she had to deal with, she simply looked at them with eyes teeming with a strange and impossible mix of lust, respect, hatred and judgement, but unlike Warmaster Nemrod, she preferred to be calm, sometimes eerily so.

After finally having her fill of looking at the Naqah up and down, Biara smiled and pulled out her twin swords, swinging them around such that she held them underhanded... Before handing them over to the translator. "I apologise for the... rudeness of my fellow warriors. Poor old Nemrod- no shoulder could ever be strong enough to carry the weight of a thousand immortal lives. In fact, a number of his friends and intimate ones were amongst the dead. Not to mention, he is one very, very *passionate* leader, I must say." The Succubus said, her voice melodious and intentionally seductive, her words chosen by not just her desire to do her duty and pay the right complements, but to toy with the elder both for her own amusement and practical purposes. Before continuing any further, she introduced herself, "I am Biara, Overseer of the 1st Century of the 5th Naval Legion of the Free Republic of Devaldis-Spes. But enough with the formalities." She giggled suggestively, "There is much we need to... talk about."

Sitting down on a hospital bed, she motioned for the elder to sit beside her before continuing with the discussion, "I'm sure you must be very tired, and we might... spend a great deal of time together." her tail swishing about in anticipation.

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

Southern Coast of Naqah, Niraph

"I will find a way." Warmaster Nemrod replied, and the Naqah Daemonrexiac translated thus. The Naqah Daemonrexiac had also become his personal advisor in the speech of the Naqah as well, and he found the Naqah elder's intentions suspicious, asking for just a mere representative to enter the town. "And my half-legion will accompany me. I am sure that the wounded would not carry themselves, and a Daemonrexa Galley holds at least 200 marines and oarsmen, exalted elder." When the elder mentioned bad news, Warmaster Nemrod's scale of what a disaster was was small. After all, there had not been any major casualties thus far in more than a century, with deaths by the hundreds and thousands confined to history - in recent years, the Daemonrexa had been very successful in their campaign to destroy the pirate threat.

With that, Warmaster Nemrod gave an order for the half-legion to get into a thin marching formation, then another order to march them through the gates of Niraph. When it came time for the Nephilims in the legion to get in, Nemrod simply ordered them to scale the walls and did so himself at the head of the formation, half-expecting an ambush inside. The wall was easy for a Nephilim to scale, as they stood only a little taller than them. What was a tall enough wall to normal beings was a mere fence to the Nephilim.

After marching the half-legion to the town square where they stood at attention in a circle formation, ready for anything, the Warmaster and his Overseers, with 5 Maniples acting as bodyguards, followed the elder to the barracks where the survivors were said to have been kept. Being too large, the Warmaster and other Nephilim was forced to stay outside, and had to make their way to the windows opening from the clinic's room. Before seeing anything, the Warmaster thought the clinic to be too small to hold so a galley's crew - it was his first hint that the bad news was much worse than he thought, and when he gazed into the room where the survivors were kept, it was far, far worse than he thought.

Warmaster Nemrod even poked his head through the window when the smaller Daemonrexa inside opened them to take a second look. The Healer and Elder was there. The Warmaster turned his massive head to look at them in disbelief. His otherwise relatively friendly look turned into an enraged frown, with teeth showing. "Where is the rest of my galley crew?" What would have been otherwise an angry bellow was lowered to normal out of respect for the wounded, but the Warmaster's voice never ceased to be one of seething anger, his voice unstable, wavering between restraint and fury.

The wounded overseer, having been awakened and glad to see other Daemonrexa, but absolutely dreading the presence of the Warmaster after essentially losing his entire crew, got up slowly from his four linked beds, trying his best not to aggravate his wounds, and explained, "My Master, we were attacked by pirates five fold our number. The Healer told us that we were all that was left-"

"The Healer told you-!" Warmaster gave into his fury for a moment, before trying his best to calm down again - he could not simply believe that the Healer was telling the truth, or that he wasn't mistaken. It seemed otherworldly to him, what was going on. Never had such a loss been incurred by a unit in his entire career. Many thoughts were going through his mind- he wanted badly to enact sweet vengeance upon those responsible for the loss of his charges, and he imagined the humiliation he would face back home. 'I would have to find a way to make things right' The Warmaster thought as he grudgingly accepted the circumstances forced upon him. Turning to regard the healer with a mix of emotions, he continued with the translator in tow, "Very well." Nemrod breathed heavily and quickly, the dreadful noise of rage perpetuating throughout the room. He was almost as if in battle fury. Even his own soldiers were becoming afraid of their general. "Where are the bodies? They must be preserved quickly! Their friends and family must have them for the proper rituals to be conducted so that they may part ways with a final farewell." On one hand, the Nephilim smells foul play, and on the other, he simply smelt the ineptitude of foreign tribesmen.

Even the translator was visibly shaking and stuttering as he tried his best to do his job.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

And I've just finished a post. First exam in 4 days :O

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

November 4th-11th, 11:30am (by the end), Street, Southwest Missouri

For 3 days, Valentina got to know Dylan very well. After all, it was the only thing she could do as she could no longer run around anymore. Dylan had her in bed, and Valentina preferred to stay in bed until the fourth day of her recovery, when she found that she could run around and carry things without feeling pain. If there was one thing that was clear, Dylan was a friend that Valentina had never had for months. He cared for her without asking for anything in return. He had enough food to last the week, and he gave them away to Valentina freely. The days she had been bedridden felt like a dream, like heaven. Sometimes, to pass the time, they would lock themselves in their safe little room and play boardgames, like Snakes or Checkers. Of course, Dylan would always win the latter, unless he tried to teach the young girl some nifty tricks to win.

Valentina had learnt alot about Dylan. She learnt that he once had a family, and that he was once a policeman who handled the tougher bad guys. When it all started, he tried his best to take care of his kingdom, but all the King's men wasn't enough, and he had been living with this guilt since. He hated himself, and Valentina could understand - she hated herself for not being able to help her own family, and friends.

Then it happened. While they were eating, strangers came in with guns to interrupt them. Coming really close, the leader had asked for all the food they have. As far as robbers go, however, they were kind enough to demand only for food, explicitly stating that they could keep everything else they had. By this time, however, most of the food they had were gone, and all they had was food enough for another 3 days. Forced to put their hands up while they were at their table, all Valentina could do was to look at Dylan, waiting for him to act, or to tell her what to do. For a moment, it seemed that her new found friend would give it all up; "Alright, alright, look, you guys win-"

Before Valentina knew it, his chair was flying through the air, crashing into the nearest robber. Dylan leapt into action, grabbing the robber's gun, pushing it out of the way before drawing his own and firing it into his throat. Immediately, the girl could feel a hand grabbing her hair roughly, pulling her out of her seat. Screaming and kicking, Valentina reached for her hidden knife and pulled it out, plunging it into the thigh of her manhandler.

After killing the closest robber to himself, Dylan turned his gun on a third one and fired at the same time he did. Dylan's shot went through his head, and in his panic, the robber had pulled his trigger prematurely, but with blind luck had put a bullet through Dylan's leg. Valentina went on to bite the robber who was trying to grab hold of her in the arm, trying to stop him from using his gun, but being a young girl, she could not hope to overpower him. However, she did delay him long enough for Dylan to kill him.

Just as the last of them fell, Valentina heard the front doors to the shop swivel shut, and saw just in time a fourth robber running away. The sound of a car driving away could soon be heard. When it was all over, Dylan calmly grabbed his chair and, after turning it upright and setting it down, sat to relieve his wounded leg. Inspecting it, he found that the bullet had gone straight through, but the wound itself was nasty. Having just gone through a fight, he could barely feel anything because of adrenaline, but he knew that it would soon sting like a scorpion when it was all gone.

It wasn't a pleasant sight when Dylan had to treat himself with Valentina's help. However, that wasn't the worse part, most of their food ran out two days later, and Dylan could not go out to get more. The few meals' worth of food that was left was given to Valentina, but she ended up sharing them with her new friend anyway. Despite the dire circumstances, the former policeman didn't want Valentina to risk her life going out and scavenging. "I think I'll get better tomorrow..." He would keep telling Valentina every night, and it worked every night, until the 3rd day since most of their food were gone, when even the little that was left had ran out and Dylan was nowhere near recovering from his gunshot wound. He continued bleeding, and the only thing they could count on was that it would bleed less the next day.

The next morning, Valentina snuck out. For the first time in 8 days, she was out and about, carrying her backpack and weapons. Brandishing her MP5K, she intended to go back to her sleep spots to take the canned food there - she had plenty, just that she lacked a can opener - until she met Ivy and Dylan. On the way there, however, a loud cacophony of groans and moans forced her to hide, and upon peeking at where they came from, she realised that her way back was blocked, and she would have to turn around and leave before the monster army saw her.

It didn't stop her from trying to find food. After walking the other way for hours, passing Dominic's Gas An' Go', she wanted to try scavenging in that other direction. Already hungry herself and knowing that Dylan needs food, she was desperate, desperate enough to try anything other than to run through a huge horde of cannibal creatures.

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

TheSovereignGrave said
Here and not feeling particularly well. I was a bit sick these last couple of days.

Get well soon :D

HounderHowl said
Sooooov my army is marching on the fort with the golden mask guy :0

And soon you might find Daemonrexa marching around in your kingdom. :)

Also, Haz, in case you miss it, my latest post is the last post on the first page.

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

I'm here! :D

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

Southern Coast of Naqah, Niraph

At the mention of a single, solitary old man jumping off the town wall and walking up to them, visibily shaking, Warmaster Nemrod came up to meet him. The old Naqah was tiny in comparison to the Warmaster, who stood almost 14 feet into the air, being Nephilim, and a tall one no less. He stared down at the baby-sized elder, regarding him eye-to-eye as he spoke in his strange language, his words quivering with uncontrollable fear, still with hatred in his eyes for whomever had taken his soldiers, his eyes visibly shimmering with red. Resting his left hand on his sword handle, he took a gaze at the town walls.

'Pitiful' was the word he would use to describe it. A Nephilim could easily scale it as if it was a fence, except that they won't need to, for it seemed as if a single ram from a few Nephilim would bring the 'wall' down. Then there were the guards, who were all huddling together in a rough formation on the walls, more out of fear and the cold than discipline. Nemrod lifted his sword slightly out of its sheathe threateningly with his left hand, as if about to break the elder apart... Except that it was merely a habit. A veteran serving with him long enough would know that it meant Nemrod was merely thinking. After taking another look at the town's defenses, the giant Nephilim could not help but to chuckle. It became a hearty belly laughter. Some of the soldiers in the rank and file caught on, and could not help but to laugh either. To anyone unfamiliar with the Daemonrexa, Nemrod's laughter would seem deep and demented. Most importantly, the red glow in his eyes disappeared.

Then he began to consider the old man's words, and decided it had nothing to do with the military. "I fear that I cannot understand your words, old man." The Nephilim boomed, trying to be as gentle as possible, though with a foreigner who had never seen a Daemonrexa, much less of the Nephilim kind before, it may well be out of his ability. As his Overseers began to gather behind him, the Nephilim Warmaster gave a loud, bellowing order: "I need a translator! Find one amongst my men who could speak the region's tongue, and bring him to me! Go back to the ships if it is necessary!"

As Nemrod's Overseers went away to carry out their Master's bidding, The Warmaster decided that the town was of no threat - or at least it was of no immediate threat. Should there be an ambush within, well, the Warmaster would handle it then, but for the time being, the Warmaster decided to treat the situation as one of diplomacy, or if to fall into an ambush was their destiny, at least give the impression that they suspected nothing.

While Warmaster Nemrod was no diplomat, he knew the simplest aspects of the job well enough, having been present when the colonies were created. Putting a hoof behind another, the Warmaster bowed low to the shivering elder. Out of respect for the Warmaster, the entire half-legion bowed lower on a warrior's kneel: one knee to the ground and weapon to the floor, supporting, be it a spear, sword blade, bow or ballista. Only those with chains or smaller weapons need not carry out the last part.

When the Warmaster rose, so did the half-legion. Then there were shouts from the Overseer throughout the ranks, calling for translators of the local region. Daemonrexa were either shaking their heads or reporting a negative. A number of soldiers were ordered to go back to the ship to find a translator. Nemrod gave a great sigh. "I apologise for making you wait, exalted ambassador." He said to the old man.

Despite the quickness of the soldiers, it took ten minutes before the party sent back to the galleys came back. A very strange Daemonrexa was trotting up towards the old Naqah, one that was wearing clothing familiar to the Naqah, even if outdated. He was a Daemonrexiac who was once Naqah, and he was wearing an old-fashioned Chiton made of materials local to the Daemonrexa- Snow silk. Despite having changed dramatically from his acceptance of Saten's gift, he still resembled a Naqah, even if slightly, but it was enough for anyone to recognise it.

Nemrod took a single look at the Daemonrexiac, and could tell immediately that he was a paid oarsman, and one that had served a few years at that, for he was neither completely a stranger, nor too well known amongst the marines and crew of the galleys. The Naqah Daemonrexiac, upon setting his eyes upon the old elder Naqah, was stunned. He could not believe his ears at first that they had reached Naqah shores again, but the sight of one of his former kind confirmed it. His mouth hanged loose as he was at a loss for words.

"Oarsman, I require your knowledge of these people's tongue. Could you do as I order?" Warmaster Nemrod asked, his voice loud as usual.

"Y-yes. My words will be old and cobwebbed, but I will try, my Master." The Naqah Daemonrexiac said in Daemonrexa.

"Very well." The Warmaster then turned to the elder, "I am Warmaster Nemrod of the 5th Naval Legion, serving the Free Republic of Devaldis-Spes under the eminence of Sovereign Drengard."

"The enormous demonic one says that his name be Nemrod, and Imperial General he is of the 5th Naval Legion, servants of the Free Republic of Devaldis-Spes, ruled by High Lord Drengard." The Naqah Daemonrexiac translated roughly Nemrod's words into Naqah, visibly lacking a number of terms which he quickly filled in with the closest he knows. Furthermore, his Naqah was outdated by nearly three centuries. He was speaking in Old Naqah!

"I am in search of my missing marines and oarsmen, and the pirates who ambushed them." Nemrod continued, and paused as the Naqah Daemonrexiac translated, "I saw the filthy human pirate corpses mounted on sticks at the beach, and the burnt ship that was my galley. It lead me to believe that you are holding the people I am responsible for."

"I need an answer immediately. Deliver them to us unharmed, and we will not turn the town over looking for them. Cooperate, and the rewards of your obedience to our humble demands may yet be great and without end, for my people are expanding their reach, and since we have never met your people, agreements could be reached and friendship fostered. Many benefits could be had. I myself will convince our dearest leaders to reach out to your kind." Nemrod said, pausing once in a while for the Naqah Daemonrexiac to translate.

"If you wish to ignore our woes and needs, we will still have to search the town, and I fear that we may have to demolish some buildings and kill some of your kind before we are done. A Daemonrexa's life is precious, and each of us is dear to many of us. I will do whatever it takes to save those I am responsible for. What will your answer be?" Nemrod said, his diplomatic caution slipping a few times due to the lack of formal training. When he and the translator is done, Nemrod and the entire half-legion waited for an answer.

---

Shenda found the Healer, or any Naqah for that matter, socially awkward and unpolished. The guard who saved her, for example, would not give himself over and be intimate with her even when she could tell very easily that he wanted very much to. And the stares she had thus far received, she had lost count. But it mattered little to her at the moment, as pain flared throughout the body as she drunk the bottle of foul smelling liquid as she believed the Healer instructed and endured the pain throughout her body as the Healer cleaned her.

Shenda felt a little faint and tired. After all, she had not slept the previous night, and she could feel a cold coming on. The medicine was awful, and her wounds would likely take weeks to fully heal, and that would be with the best doctors in Devaldis-Spes. "Thank you." She said in her own language, lacking the word for it in Naqah. With a weak, trembling hand, she stroked the Healer's arm, a shadow of what gratitude she could have shown if she was healthy.

The Healer had said more, but she could not exactly understand his words. With what little she understood, she thought he mentioned home. It seemed like he was comforting her. Shenda smiled a weak at the doctor as he was almost done.

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

Southern Coast of Naqah, Niraph

When the Naqah Healer had floated in, addressing her in his calming voice, Shenda turned her head to look at him. There was so much she wanted to say, yet too few words to use. Although she had tried diligently to learn even more words while she was being treated in the clinic, she found it impossible to learn alot in three days. Still, she tried her best to speak in between sobs and sniffles, "Pain... So much pain... Wish to be free... But cannot... So much pain, more than ever in 2,000 moons. Bound to bed... Hate it..." Her inability to communicate worsened the dreadful feeling of powerlessness, of solitude and isolation. For the first real time in her long life, she felt like an animal. As an intellectual from whose fingers flowed poems and epics read by many, it was unbearable.

Shenda tried to speak more, but coughed instead. Sticky, tar like phlegm flowed down the side of her mouth. Being in a foreign land for the first time in almost a century, it was far too easy for her to contract illnesses.

---

For ten minutes, the 5th Naval Legion waited for a response from pirates or Naqah enemies, but there was none, and a melee did not ensue. At this, the Warmaster ordered the half-legion forward, sending out a small vanguard group to scout ahead and singular individuals of scouts as satellites around the main formation as a guard against ambush. Very quickly, a familiar from the vanguard group galloped on his hooves quickly back to the Warmaster, reporting town walls ahead.

They continued marching, until the town walls came within sight. An order to change formation into a pre-emptive siege line was made, and as a disciplined whole, the Daemonrexa obeyed, forming a line with most of the Nephilim at the front, the lines of huge Daemonrexa alternated by the smaller ones. The imposing Nephilim readied their ballistas, while the smaller ones their bows. Swordsmen and spearmen formed up behind them, waiting.

In their new formation, they continued marching until they were just out of bow range before stopping. There, they stood waiting, waiting for a response from the town.

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

So no one noticed that huge army on the beach?

Also, I'm just going to assume that the town is walled on all sides rather than having walls that stops at the storelines.

I'm going to come up with a post, but if you weren't even finished with your own, do tell me and I'll delete it.

A New Age - Ancient Era NRP

Okay, I see what's going on here. It's true that my nation's military is offensive-oriented, at least in general. But that does not mean that their equipment would shatter if so much as breathed on. I believe tactics and strategy would reflect that more than anything.