DR_TRAPEZOID Member
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Signatures are for the weak, and those of weak will.
Ifrit felt rage boil in his bones. How dare this... Whatever it was... insinuate that he could spare the life of Ifrit. Before he could spurt out rage and fire, he managed to stop himself. Sheer fear held his tongue, as he knew that there was great power beneath this shadowy cloak. So, rather than aggravate the man of such magical prowess, he complied with his requests, not wishing to be left in this land, to perish at the ghostly claws of those denizens residing in this realm. Having such limited vision, he did not experience the true fear that a human could, but he was more than capable of sniffing the danger that hung in the air.
"I am Ifrit. I am the great danger that scarred the earth, so many years ago. I am the smoke that suffocated generations of the weak. I am the fire that burned down dynasties of elder kings. I am fear incarnate. I AM IFRIT, THE SCION OF THE INFERNAL KING." He said, the words more of a rehearsed script, rather than actual pride. Those words had filled the ears of thousands of dying souls, it was rather odd that in this case, Ifrit was reciting this at the mercy of another soul.
Though the darkness that surrounded the two certainly did not help Ifrit's eyesight, his sense of smell easily penetrated the illusion. Though he was used to the scent of death, this was different- this was off, somehow. When Ifrit killed things, the scent of death that lingered was... still. But these spirits refused to rest, stirring up odors the like of which Ifrit had rarely smelt. Ifrit was glad for the Keepers deep magical scent, as it masked the unnerving scent of those restless dead roaming about- waiting to feast upon those careless enough to linger in their realm.
"I am Ifrit. I am the great danger that scarred the earth, so many years ago. I am the smoke that suffocated generations of the weak. I am the fire that burned down dynasties of elder kings. I am fear incarnate. I AM IFRIT, THE SCION OF THE INFERNAL KING." He said, the words more of a rehearsed script, rather than actual pride. Those words had filled the ears of thousands of dying souls, it was rather odd that in this case, Ifrit was reciting this at the mercy of another soul.
Though the darkness that surrounded the two certainly did not help Ifrit's eyesight, his sense of smell easily penetrated the illusion. Though he was used to the scent of death, this was different- this was off, somehow. When Ifrit killed things, the scent of death that lingered was... still. But these spirits refused to rest, stirring up odors the like of which Ifrit had rarely smelt. Ifrit was glad for the Keepers deep magical scent, as it masked the unnerving scent of those restless dead roaming about- waiting to feast upon those careless enough to linger in their realm.
I guess I just really wasn't sure how to phrase 'pillars of meat' in an intimidating way.
Also, Cyclone, you got a lot better, no offense. Though I guess one paragraph isn't much to judge ones writing.
I hope someday I blossom like a sexual butterfly, and become as good as y'all are at writing.
Also, quick question. I was wondering what the situation would be on Rogue Beings, as far as numbers go. In a couple of weeks, I won't have to worry about school, so I will actually have free time to pay attention to RP'ing (Halleluiah), so I was wondering if I could make a second rogue being, to help move Kangutso along quicker, should he choose to make a Keeper, or give a bit of a jump start to Dawnon, as he joined late. (Though he's done really well in catching up.)
...I probably could've said that all in a briefer fashion, or just spread it out, but that would require time and patience, and patience is for the weak.
Also, Cyclone, you got a lot better, no offense. Though I guess one paragraph isn't much to judge ones writing.
I hope someday I blossom like a sexual butterfly, and become as good as y'all are at writing.
Also, quick question. I was wondering what the situation would be on Rogue Beings, as far as numbers go. In a couple of weeks, I won't have to worry about school, so I will actually have free time to pay attention to RP'ing (Halleluiah), so I was wondering if I could make a second rogue being, to help move Kangutso along quicker, should he choose to make a Keeper, or give a bit of a jump start to Dawnon, as he joined late. (Though he's done really well in catching up.)
...I probably could've said that all in a briefer fashion, or just spread it out, but that would require time and patience, and patience is for the weak.
My day has been adequate.
Also, sorry for the crappy post. I wanted to get a post out quick, or I would just keep procrastinating, but I had to do it quick, because I have an appointment to follow up on soon. Hope it's not too terrible.
Also, sorry for the crappy post. I wanted to get a post out quick, or I would just keep procrastinating, but I had to do it quick, because I have an appointment to follow up on soon. Hope it's not too terrible.
Ifrit woke, to see a shadow looming tall over him. Ifrit was not used to such treatment, more often having the roles reversed. His animal instinct told him to jump to his feet, tear limb from limb this transgressor of the ancient laws. Well, he didn't actually know if any ancient laws were broken, or if they had existed in the first place, but he was sure that there was some reason to kill the shadowy figure before him. Though he pushed with all of his might, his splintering bones refused to support him- sending him crashing back down. Now that he was fully conscious, his fire raged almost high, more of a natural response, an intimidation tactic.
Accepting the fact that he would be unable to physically confront the shadow, he surveyed the surroundings. More than anything, he was confused, unable to tell much about the surroundings simply by looking- but then, sight was never really his strongest sense. Ifrit took a deep whiff of the air, his pupils dilating as the scent filled his mind. Magic. Though it was not uncommon to smell magic in these times, this was different. The magical capability of this creature must rival, if not surpass that of his previous master. With that sweet scent filling his thoughts, it was rather difficult for Ifrit to focus on anything but the shadowy figure.
In a rough growl, Ifrit spoke, no real emotion behind his voice, echoing through the spirit realm. "Who are you... Why are you here..." Though crudely put, Ifrit knew no way to actually show his thankfulness, so he skipped straight to the point. He felt an ominous presence from this figure, and needed to know if... it... was hostile, or if it could be trusted- perhaps it had dragged him here for naught more than a peaceful feast. Ifrit was hopeful that he could make a hasty escape, should his situation turn sour.
Viktor emerged from the almost trance-like state he went into whenever he crafted minions. Patience was not something he had much of, and looked up at the red sky more than a few times, in his impatient worry. He knew this was a bad sign, and he needed to craft his army faster, if he were to survive, and continue with the glorious evolution. His new minion followed suit of those that preceded it, being a strong creature with little mental capacity. It stamped its feet impatiently, sending shudders through the stone floor.
The castle walls had been stripped of the armaments that adorned it, which supplied the resources for this monstrosity. Like the ogres, it stood upon legs stitched together haphazardly, creating thick pillars of flesh. Upon the four blistered legs resided a ballista, like a massive wooden head. The calloused flesh was wrapped around the wooden stock of the ballista, making a rather brutal combination of monster and machine. The heart and brain of this creature laid encased in glass, a rather sloppy design flaw. However, the creature would have to do, as Viktor was not patient enough to recreate it.
Quickly enough, four more were created, before Viktor realized that he was out of ballistae. Viktor did not send these five minions out into the town to be trained, as they would simply be operated by skeletons, his smartest minions currently. As he turned away from the gargantuan monsters, he began working again. There were debts to pay. Monsters to feed. It seemed that he would get no rest, unless he kept improving. An errant thought ran through his head, making him question the whereabouts of Stamrad. He made a mental note to berate him on his inefficiency later, before he went to work.
Accepting the fact that he would be unable to physically confront the shadow, he surveyed the surroundings. More than anything, he was confused, unable to tell much about the surroundings simply by looking- but then, sight was never really his strongest sense. Ifrit took a deep whiff of the air, his pupils dilating as the scent filled his mind. Magic. Though it was not uncommon to smell magic in these times, this was different. The magical capability of this creature must rival, if not surpass that of his previous master. With that sweet scent filling his thoughts, it was rather difficult for Ifrit to focus on anything but the shadowy figure.
In a rough growl, Ifrit spoke, no real emotion behind his voice, echoing through the spirit realm. "Who are you... Why are you here..." Though crudely put, Ifrit knew no way to actually show his thankfulness, so he skipped straight to the point. He felt an ominous presence from this figure, and needed to know if... it... was hostile, or if it could be trusted- perhaps it had dragged him here for naught more than a peaceful feast. Ifrit was hopeful that he could make a hasty escape, should his situation turn sour.
Viktor emerged from the almost trance-like state he went into whenever he crafted minions. Patience was not something he had much of, and looked up at the red sky more than a few times, in his impatient worry. He knew this was a bad sign, and he needed to craft his army faster, if he were to survive, and continue with the glorious evolution. His new minion followed suit of those that preceded it, being a strong creature with little mental capacity. It stamped its feet impatiently, sending shudders through the stone floor.
The castle walls had been stripped of the armaments that adorned it, which supplied the resources for this monstrosity. Like the ogres, it stood upon legs stitched together haphazardly, creating thick pillars of flesh. Upon the four blistered legs resided a ballista, like a massive wooden head. The calloused flesh was wrapped around the wooden stock of the ballista, making a rather brutal combination of monster and machine. The heart and brain of this creature laid encased in glass, a rather sloppy design flaw. However, the creature would have to do, as Viktor was not patient enough to recreate it.
Quickly enough, four more were created, before Viktor realized that he was out of ballistae. Viktor did not send these five minions out into the town to be trained, as they would simply be operated by skeletons, his smartest minions currently. As he turned away from the gargantuan monsters, he began working again. There were debts to pay. Monsters to feed. It seemed that he would get no rest, unless he kept improving. An errant thought ran through his head, making him question the whereabouts of Stamrad. He made a mental note to berate him on his inefficiency later, before he went to work.
I'm here, just waiting for the mighty quest to begin. Also, finals are happening for me. Wheeeeeee. So posting from me might be scarce for the next week-ish.
General Danon B. Brie squinted up through the sweat and heat, his vision heavily blurred. Smoke filled his lungs, coaxing rough coughs out, shuddering his motionless body. He hadn't really understood how it had ended up like this- their army hadn't even suffered a dent from the last monster attack, and he had been told he need naught but sit back and let the spellcasters weaken the beast for them, before they could come in and sweep up the leftovers. But this- this did not happen like it should've. He could clearly remember the very moment it all went wrong.
His unit of troops had been exchanging idle conversation, spears hanging limp from relaxed arms. Though slightly more on guard, Brie still expected very little resistance from this 'monster'. He could go on for quite awhile listing off the fairy tale beasts that were supposed to be challenging, and ended up on someones mantlepiece. But when Ifrit's head rose up above the hillside, and smoke blotted out the sky, fear pierced his heart, as well as those of everyone else in the army. Happy spirits died down, as a solemn look passed over even the brave hearted spellcasters. As the smoke slowly rolled around the soldiers, chaos erupted.
Terrified, and unsure what to do, one lone soldier charged the beast, armed with naught more than a spear, and a seemingly massive amount of courage. This angry mosquito did naught but end his own life prematurely, and give the beast a reason to unleash it's full force. Within moments, no one could see through the smoke that rose from thin air, the smog alone bringing many to their knees. Cutting through the forest of blackness were long, flowing jets of flame, scalding the flesh of those unlucky enough to be caught in the blast of searing flame. As General Brie stumbled blindly around, he himself could feel the heat, as the bright blasts billowed before him, briefly brightening the blistered faces of his battered battalion.
Even through this chaos, though, the spellcasters fought valiantly, their magic soon cutting through the smoke, to shudder the bony hide of Ifrit. Though the shots managed to slow the assault of fire, many missed, to fizzle uselessly on the hard packed dirt, sometimes hitting the armored foot soldiers. As the enslaught of arcane bolts continued, Ifrit trudged forward, taking the shots as his body shuddered and swayed. Each time a spell hit its mark through the smoke, the massive bony tail swept around, wishing to inflict some pain in penance for this sacrilage. How dare they harm the mighty Ifrit, scion of the Infernal king.
A quick strike with the flaming tail was what floored Brie, and it didn't look like he would be getting up any time soon. Protruding from his chest was a splintered spear, impossible odds had thrown him onto this fateful spike, where he would surely take his last breaths. As the smoke began to clear around him, he could see more clealy those who had been rejected by fate as well. Scorched bodies littered the battlefield, others crushed beneath the massive bony toes of the creature. It seemed as though the spellcasters were not faring very well, not now that Ifrit was so close. Screams of pain echoed out from the smoke, some bodies being carelessly tossed aside, to crash on the ground with sickening thuds. Just before Brie slipped into the cold hands of death, he was able to through the now clearing smoke, that they had lost. The sun ran red with the blood shed tonight, another knife in their already dying dignity.
Ifrit let loose a mighty roar, proud of him having made short work of the army. However, beneath his blackened bones, the flames flickered, barely burning above an ember. He knew that he couldn't give up and show weakness now, a far larger part of the army lay in wait behind the city gates, watching. Though they were paralyzed with fear, Ifrit had very little energy to continue fighting. Indeed, Brother Ike had already weakened him with the magical mark- it was a miracle that he had survived this far. Yet before Ifrit could step to the gates of the city, he crashed to the ground, unable to stay up. Many of his bones splintered, as he looked up to the sky, hoping for some mercy, for his master to return and rejuvenate him, as he had done once, so long ago. Already he could see confused wizards popping their heads up, unsure of what to do, as fear still clouded their judgements, making them weak.
His unit of troops had been exchanging idle conversation, spears hanging limp from relaxed arms. Though slightly more on guard, Brie still expected very little resistance from this 'monster'. He could go on for quite awhile listing off the fairy tale beasts that were supposed to be challenging, and ended up on someones mantlepiece. But when Ifrit's head rose up above the hillside, and smoke blotted out the sky, fear pierced his heart, as well as those of everyone else in the army. Happy spirits died down, as a solemn look passed over even the brave hearted spellcasters. As the smoke slowly rolled around the soldiers, chaos erupted.
Terrified, and unsure what to do, one lone soldier charged the beast, armed with naught more than a spear, and a seemingly massive amount of courage. This angry mosquito did naught but end his own life prematurely, and give the beast a reason to unleash it's full force. Within moments, no one could see through the smoke that rose from thin air, the smog alone bringing many to their knees. Cutting through the forest of blackness were long, flowing jets of flame, scalding the flesh of those unlucky enough to be caught in the blast of searing flame. As General Brie stumbled blindly around, he himself could feel the heat, as the bright blasts billowed before him, briefly brightening the blistered faces of his battered battalion.
Even through this chaos, though, the spellcasters fought valiantly, their magic soon cutting through the smoke, to shudder the bony hide of Ifrit. Though the shots managed to slow the assault of fire, many missed, to fizzle uselessly on the hard packed dirt, sometimes hitting the armored foot soldiers. As the enslaught of arcane bolts continued, Ifrit trudged forward, taking the shots as his body shuddered and swayed. Each time a spell hit its mark through the smoke, the massive bony tail swept around, wishing to inflict some pain in penance for this sacrilage. How dare they harm the mighty Ifrit, scion of the Infernal king.
A quick strike with the flaming tail was what floored Brie, and it didn't look like he would be getting up any time soon. Protruding from his chest was a splintered spear, impossible odds had thrown him onto this fateful spike, where he would surely take his last breaths. As the smoke began to clear around him, he could see more clealy those who had been rejected by fate as well. Scorched bodies littered the battlefield, others crushed beneath the massive bony toes of the creature. It seemed as though the spellcasters were not faring very well, not now that Ifrit was so close. Screams of pain echoed out from the smoke, some bodies being carelessly tossed aside, to crash on the ground with sickening thuds. Just before Brie slipped into the cold hands of death, he was able to through the now clearing smoke, that they had lost. The sun ran red with the blood shed tonight, another knife in their already dying dignity.
Ifrit let loose a mighty roar, proud of him having made short work of the army. However, beneath his blackened bones, the flames flickered, barely burning above an ember. He knew that he couldn't give up and show weakness now, a far larger part of the army lay in wait behind the city gates, watching. Though they were paralyzed with fear, Ifrit had very little energy to continue fighting. Indeed, Brother Ike had already weakened him with the magical mark- it was a miracle that he had survived this far. Yet before Ifrit could step to the gates of the city, he crashed to the ground, unable to stay up. Many of his bones splintered, as he looked up to the sky, hoping for some mercy, for his master to return and rejuvenate him, as he had done once, so long ago. Already he could see confused wizards popping their heads up, unsure of what to do, as fear still clouded their judgements, making them weak.
Rawr. Finally posted.
So... I lied. Sorry. Almost vomiting blood came up, as well as 3 essays in one class, due this week. Fun. I'm so sorry for this lack of posting on my part. I feel so irresponsible!
OH MY GOSH. I am so sorry, it's been like a week since my last post. I promise will have a post up for Ifrit within the next 24 hours.
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