Fetzen

The Prince's Royal Guard

To put things short, the overall situation wasn't looking good. By now the constant barrage of arrows and bullets from the defenders had left behind a tremendous number of dead goblins on the ground with demolished corpses being added on top of those by Manald's actions, but it was obvious to everyone that just more and more kept coming. The lycan had no idea what was happening behind him on the wall and he simply had no time to deal with any siege ladders from his position on the ground as well. Most importantly however the two trolls appeared to be next to unstoppable as even punching right into their flesh only had very temporary effect.

The werewolf thought about his options: Trying to bite his way through just anywhere and dealing as much damage as possible was bound to be not a good idea, simply because there was too much armor to crack through beforehand. Hoping that some skilled marksmen would put a few projectils into the beast's head and end its life this way sounded like a good and easy to execute plan at first, but what if the trolls would have reached and broken the gate before that happened ? And what if their skulls were too thick for anything to get through with enough impact ? Maybe the defenders could stack up some explosies behind the gate, wait for the trolls to break through and then blow them up ? If executed with enough haste this might work and maybe even the stream of goblins could be halted as they had to crawl through a crater afterwards, but again this was risky and there was no way to explain this plan to those 30 feet upwards in this mess in the first place.

Yet there was one weak spot on those trolls where rigid armor could impossibly be in place, neither on top nor underneath the skin, simply because flexibility was needed: the throat. Human ingenuity had developed a number of measures against attacks there: Chain mail, large spauldrons with additional, more vertically attached plates to defend against various weapons, shields... But had anything of this been designed with the intelligence and capabilities of a predator just jumping at oneself in mind ? Definitely not. The 'only' troublesome thing was that big, nasty axe that he'd need to avoid at all cost.

Manald reached for one of the dead goblins shot by the defenders. Unlike those killed by himself these still contained the vast majority of their bodily fluids and that was what he needed along with some means to deliver momentum over some distance. He used his claws to punch a bunch of additional holes into the body, then aimed for the axe-troll's head. He threw the goblin as hard as he could, but of course this was no real threat to this kind of foe at all. The impact merely stunned the troll briefly, but it also covered its face in a large amount of blood and thereby impaired its vision until it could use its hand to clear things up again.

Manald had not even waited for the impact to happen, but had started running right after throwing. As the troll was trying to stop things from flowing downwards from his forehead into his eyes, Manald jumped and opened his maw to welcome all the nerves and blood vessels he intended to sever. The crash caused the troll to topple over backwards, but Manald didn't let go but instead tried to dig his deeth as deep as possible into his prey. So... if one destroyed a troll's brain, would even that regrow ? And if so would it regrow including all the knowledge and experience gained over a lifetime or would it regrow as an empty book, reverting its host into the state of utter infancy ?

The lycan was not looking forward to the prospect of oversized troll babies crying for mommy on the battlefield, so he kept digging and tearing until he could feel the hard surface of a spine. In an attempt to defend against any troll axe coming in from behind, he decided to put his feet onto the trolls arms so to pin them down with his weight. Then there it was, finally, that satisfying cracking sound that hopefully would put an end to this monstrosity.

Yet at the same time Manald could feel something else... a sharp pain running through his back. He did not know what it was and could only suspect a goblin, but the reality was a little different: When one was so focused on something and filled to the brim with adrenaline, time seemed to slow down in one's perception as one's reflexes sped up. Manald had not paid much attention to how fast his attack actually happened to any outstanding observer and thus how little to no advance warning it had provided to anyone fighting for his own side as well. He had quite literally charged into the tunnel vision of one of the defenders who had indeed aimed for the troll's head with his trigger finger already moving.

And of course there was a hammer troll still on the move towards the gate...

The Prince's Royal Guard

"I know!" Manald replied, having to halfway yell at Faira in order to overcome the ubiquitous sound of firearms, arrows, arms and armor. It was an environment that would do no good to his ears, that was for sure. If they'd survive this day he'd likely end up with one hell of an headache and a ringing tone that only existed in his sensation.

So far the lycanthrope had decided not to transform. It was a trait that could only be maintained for so long and thus an asset not to be wasted like the day before. Manald knew that his use on the wall was somewhat limited due to the necessity to use ranged weapons. However, now that the first siege ladders were put into place and the goblins started to reach the top of the wall here and there, this was about to change.

"Give me a moment, and then try to keep the green critters away from me!"

Having said this not only to Faira, but addressing all of the soliders around them as well, Manald did not retreat into some closed room where nobody could see him. Instead he merely stepped as far back as he could before starting to shift, so from down below he could probably not be seen anymore. The intent was to reappear with the element of surprise on his side.

"Don't destroy that ladder! I need it!" he added with an already distorted voice, the arm he used to point at the object in question already bulging and being overgrown with even more hair. He put off his set or armor pretty much at the last moment possible before it would have become jammed around his growing body and subsequently burst. A brief moment followed where the transformation reached its climax and every soldier would be able to see Manald naked while he couldn't do anything. Then, somewhat crouching so not to reveal himself to the trolls and goblins openly, he put on his other leather armor as fast as possible.

With a loud, smacking sound, Manald's claws dug into the throat of the goblin that had just reached the top of the ladder. Blood was pouring out of it and moments later the body was clearly devoid of life. Good. Manald knew he had not much experience in handling a sword, but even an idiot could use a club... And every bit of metal and other armor on that dead goblin now would only make it more useful for wiping its successors on the ladder off the latter.

The wood made more than one cracking sound as Manald climbed it from above. That thing was designed for green critters, not for him in his current state. However, as long as it would hold together somehow until he was down far enough to jump everything would be fine. He now held the dead goblin at one of its ankles, trying to get as much range out of his makeshift weapon as possible before thrashing those who continued to climb upwards as he came downwards.

Whether this would work out as planned ? Of course Manald couldn't tell for sure, but only hope. Unlike certain drows he had no magical ability to just disapper and reappear on top of the wall again, but maybe the soldiers there would be able to help him clear a way towards the first of the trolls. They simply could not be allowed to reach the gate and do their work. At least Manald now was at least as monstrous as they were, if not even worse.

The Blackwood

Arden slowly turned his head leftways and downwards towards Dyla, modifying his facial expression in a rather desperate attempt to just tell her: 'Don't try again!'. The female tavern owner clearly had a point about logic, but in the Skayleigh's opinion she lacked that bit of friendliness that would've been greatly welcomed. They had merely asked, hadn't they ? There was plenty of reason to give that woman a snappy reply, maybe something along the lines of 'I'll reconsider my need for ale these days...' just to give her a not so subtle hint, but all in all being on bad terms with the individual owning the place one intended to sleep at could only be a very bad thing. There were priorities.

All of these internal considerations were shattered though when Horace appeared. As the big man dumped a large portion of hot water onto the street Arden merely wondered whether he was Valarie's husband and why he had committed to such a significant waste of warmth, but then he started talking about there actually being an empty room left. The Skayleigh was certain it would prove to be like oil being poured into the fire that was his companion's tongue! And, if he was honest, now he was much more eager to join Dyla's efforts. He'd just take... a bit of a different approach to it. It was a decision that felt particularly good now that Valarie started to treat them like a bunch of annoying toddlers ruining her garden.

The sound of cloth and leather rubbing against each other and giving way to bulging muscle beneath it could be heard as Arden crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked at Valarie, then at the door Horace had taken to get back inside, then back towards her again. Each time his level of skepticism seemed to rise. "So here we have what looks like a couple of tavern owners: One prefers not renting unused rooms to guests and the other apparently has one hell of an attitude against bards. You know what that sounds like to me ?"

Arden leaned forward, trying to get his staring eyes closer to her face as he moved his hands onto the desk in order to support his upper body. Things smelled badly here, and inside his mind the suspicion of Valarie and her husband having something against them for some very stupid and generic reason arose quickly. For the moment however Arden did his best to hold it back and decided to try and challenge her with something else first.

"Contradictory! So...didn't we just have a lecture about logic from you ? How about the next one ?" After all, if the room had simply already been booked by some other individual who'd come in later she just could have told that instead of making a myth about it.

Roll

Intimidation attempt: rolled a 5.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Manald suddenly made a gaping maw out of his mouth and gasped for air. That bucket of water had come in as quite a shock and forced his consciousness to come back to life in an instant. His heart was pounding and going very fast as he craned his neck and stared at Rudolph. Or at least he tried to stare since his optics were still configured for infinity and, quote obviously, refused to change much about that. The lycan blinked repeadetly in order to get the excess water off his eyeballs, but it took more than just one moment for his sight to become sharp again.

He heard another man speak up, addressing him by his full name including any titles, and... What ? His hearing, having been knocked out the day prior due to a cannon shot, now felt like being hypersensitive. The guard's voice sounded like that of a Banshee, loud and with some of the syllables being so high pitched that it almost hurt. Of course that wasn't true in reality, but reality was something Manald was just trying to get back into. So: Something about having to be in the keep in one hour ?

A quick thought about it later, Manald decided to get up. Maybe a little bit too fast for his still impaired sense of balance as Rudolph repeatedly found himself confronted with the lycan being on the verge of collapsing onto him. Only with one of his hands borrowing some additional stability from the tavern's wall behind him Manald's situation finally stabilized.

"Please tell me this is not true!" he muttered, more to himself than Rudolph initially but still clearly audible. One hour ? For eating, cleaning, getting dry again, dressing himself up properly and getting there ? Sounded like a rush. At least for someone who struggled with going in a straight line. "Alright, food. Let's go!" Manald detached from the wall the way someone learning swimming lets go of the wall and starts to float freely for the first time -- and he wobbled around pretty much the same.

A quite slow and for Manald perhaps a little embarassing bit of a walk later the two men found themselves in a more calm inn. Manald ordered a few slices of meat, raw meat, and some bread. The latter served a more decorative purpose than anything else as the lycan was not in the condition to answer many stupid questions asked by anonymous people. He got better slowly, but still the smell of liquor wasn't entirely gone from his breathing and neither were many items of his to-do list. Only half an hour left until the meeting...

It was a rather short breakfast because of that. Manald really would have liked to talk more, but given the current time constraints he and Rudolph would have to postpone that until... whatever would happen this day. He still needed to redress himself and then find the way of course. Berkhoff was not that a small place, so he'd have to rely on people giving him some hints in order to make fast progress.

---------------------------

Manald joined the strategy meeting a little late, so he tried to enter the room as silently as possible and nudged the massive door back into its closed position very gently. He had no interest in attracting a lot of attention right now. His clothes were fine again and so was his fur, but there still was that easily recognizable stench of beer emanating from his mouth with each of his breaths. He therefore tried to stay at a distance to the others and more to the corner of the room so hopefully nobody would notice.

Then it came to the question of where each of them should be placed. The day before Manald had not been able to do much more than to throw some stones and to linger around otherwise, so it felt like an open invitiation he just couldn't resist accepting: "I want to be where I can mess around with hostile intestines. Also, if I may suggest, we should prohibit every non-fighting citizen from having a good shit today. If the goblins manage to blow up the sewers I'd prefer that happening with as little poo as possible raining down upon us. Everybody got me ?"

That was right, right ? Manald's head ached still and, if he was honest, not all of his cognitive functionality felt like being in perfect order this morning...

The Witcher: Under the Shadow

I'd love to do this again.

Kingdom's Fall: Fantasy RP where the Dark Lord has won

I'd be interested :)

The Five Senses

Týfurkh

_{@Pezz570@13org@HokumPocus@Jerkchicken@Typical}

It all could have gone so well... Illusions, companions putting up a distraction, jade candles to hide them from the Sightless' view for a while... A swift, rather bloodless in-and-out operation that would allow the troops from outside to enter this damn place.

It fell to the ground with a not so subtle thud and the gurgling sounds of a man trying to take his last breaths through a throat filled to the brim with blood. Chres' handling of the dagger was, without any doubt, excellent, but the fact that everybody had been able to notice it in the first place not so much. And why did Chres follow the urge to charge into a room with no less than six hostiles ? It only made even more abrupt intervention necessary in an attempt to save the crazy man's life.

Týfurkh forgot every aspect of stealth for the moment. The sound of him rushing in through the door behind Chres with a lot of clanking armor and a huge crossbow was easily noticeable and the man himself didn't like it at all right now, but Týfurkh thought that he needed to do what must be done. Right now and with no alternatives. He pulled the trigger without hestiation, shooting one of the men at point blank range. The bolt punched through the guard's armor and quite nailed the body one of the small room's walls. It was a waste of a ranged weapon's ammunition weighed against the waste of time.

Týfurkh enganged the next guard right away, trying to use his crossbow as a makeshift melee weapon which he could use to hit some vulnerable parts of the other man. Hopefully the others of the party would come here soon as well, because two versus five still was not a very good ratio.

The Prince's Royal Guard

It had taken a while for Manald to return into his somewhat more 'normal' shape, if one could say so at all if everybody else around him was perfectly human, but it had not helped to make anything less... boring. It was far from the beastman's intention to discount the fact that they were under a damn siege, but there also was no way to deny that his options on top of the wall had been rather limited.

Pull some guts out of a goblin's belly ?
None of the little squeaky things had managed to reach him and he had not been able to simply go down.

Have some small talk with the soldiers around him once things had become calm and quiet again ?
Maybe the prejudices and anxieties about beastmen were not as prevalent and obvious as those about Zatana's race, but they were there still.

Just abandon the place clearly stating that he'd be more useful as a furry bartender in the tavern than blocking everyone else's way on top of the wall ?
The prince would not have been happy about his troop's reputation being pulled into the dirt that hard.

As long as the goblins did not put considerably more men and effort into more than a probing attack throwing stones down murder holes was not very entertaining either. The vast majority of the attackers had been taken out by the archers. And on top of things even one of soldiers himself had said something accusatory about Manald's lack of 'usefullness' there. So, to put it in more short words, Manald obvious had more than just a bad fur day when he ducked his way through the doorframe into a tavern he didn't even know. A good binge was in dire need, definitely!

However, the place was packed to say the least. Some of the visages he saw felt oddly familiar to those whose owners had just left the same shift as he had, but what he didn't see was a free table or even just a free chair. The lycan trudged his humble self forward, people staring at him all around both in admiration about his sheer size and animalistic features and in disgust about pretty much the same. Having reached the counter, Manald slammed his flat hand on the desk in an attempt to get some attention in all this mess. A quite average-ish looking man turned away from a large fire, approaching him and picking up an empty tankard for cleaning in the process.

"Ah... you. I've heard people talking." He sniffed quite pronouncedly. "You don't smell that bad. Seems like some claims are badly overrated... So. What can I serve you ?"

"Beer! A lot!"

The man sighed. "Why am I even asking... At this rate it'll be the first thing we'll run out of. Alright..." He put the tankard aside and grabbed a fresh one, filling it with the juice from a wooden barrel.

Manald took it and now it was his turn to sniff, even though much less noticeable. He did not need to inhale a lot of air to smell something, and in this case he was quite happy about that. "It seems like you've run out of good beer already... Why don't you serve the bad stuff first if you have the unique chance to ?"

The man just shrugged his shoulders, not even putting on as much as a disappointed look while polishing the tankard again. "I don't subdivide into good and bad stuff. I just have this and I didn't have any complaints about it so far. Drink it or leave, but not without paying for what you already got!"

Now the beastman took a very carefully executed sip. "Just like expected... tastes like one quarter pig piss." As if this day could go any worse...

"Hah! Does your kind come as pigs, too, or how can you tell how pig piss tastes ?"

Manald looked at the man askantly with a facial expression that was clearly devoid of any amusement. "No, my kind only comes in shapes capable of tearing a man's head off. And the felines can't even purr, very sorry for that!" He now just stared into what felt like an abyss filled with liquid, homogenous horror in a single shade of amber. Then, with some considerable and no less visible hesitation, the beastman took a larger portion of it and let things roam around in his mouth for a little bit before swallowing. It didn't help either. Not at all.

The tavern owner became a little triumphant in his words: "You will drink it, I'm sure. Simply because... you won't find anything better in Berkhoff right now. What the hell did you expect in a siege ? Very sadly though..." - and now there was nothing but sarcasm in his voice - "I don't have much of a chair left for you. So... you stay ?"

It was exactly the kind of words Manald did not want to hear, simply because... The man was probably right. So maybe just focus in on the alcohol ? The lycan decided to empty his tankard in one go, rapidly washing away bad taste with more bad taste and taking the time to breathe again only after it was all over. Presenting his razor-sharp teeth, he made clear what he wanted: "More!"

What else should he do this evening... He'd be capable of sleeping sonner or later anyway and his body had always been quite fast when it came to digesting liquor.

------------------------

"Ugh! I can't... lift this man. He's just too heavy!"

"Then just drag him around on the floor. I don't want any drunken heaps in my main hall waking up in the middle of the night and putting on a show because they can't get out! Also I have to clean this place!"

A scream was to be heard, following by a very nasty curse. Some blood noe was dripping onto the ground.

"That's what you get if you're an idiot trying to hold his hands! Didn't you see those claws on them ? Now get moving!"

"Where shall I go with him ?"

"Just drag him to the others, around the corner where less people will see him! They'll warm each other in the night so no worries!"

Manald was left asleep in a small side street, accompanied by a few other patrons who had maneuvered themselves into a similar fate. By now it was the middle of the night, but he would probably be awake long before those around him.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Even at his new size, Manald was unable to see what was happening on top of a 30 feet tall wall. He still was able to notice the blast though that occurred right in front of the other side of the gate. The movement of the massive construction was quite easy to see and so was the fact that the blast wave stirred up his fur and tried to push him away. Albeit not being able to hear the cracking sounds and thus unaware of the fact that the gate had taken serious damage, Manald knew that the threat of goblin sappers was over for now one way or the other. There was no real reason left for him to stay down here.

The lycanthrope's next idea was to rush back up to the wall's crest and make himself useful there. It took a little longer for the giant beast to get moving fast, but once he was at speed it was enough of an impression to make a few soldiers crossing his path to rush out of the way. Once up there he saw a Acrius in the midst of a crowd of soliders that didn't look like they were busy shooting arrows or throwing stuff down the murder holes anymore. So... what had happened ?

He came closer, each of his steps sending vibrations throughout the wall in his vicinity that the more sensitive part of its defenders would be able to notice along with the scratching sound caused by large claws hitting the stone floor. Then, already quite close, he could finally see that there was someone lying on the ground in the middle of the crowd. It was Zatana it seemed. Manald hardly knew her, but that was not relevant right now.

"If there's nothing to help with or you don't want to help, then make yourself useful somewhere else! Get more arrows, inspect the gate for damage, I don't know!" Manald's intention had been to make it sound indignantly, but combined with his current physique it had potential to feel more like an announcement about who'd be his dinner tonight. The werewolf stepped closer now, hoping that he wouldn't have to start to push soldiers aside in order to start helping himself.

The Prince's Royal Guard

By the time the bell rang, Manald had found himself on the wall somewhere in the eastern part of the city. He couldn't tell exactly where himself for the lack of detailed knowledge of the whole place, but it didn't matter anyway. The bell's reverberating sound was loud enough to easily track it back to its origin. Running through the city itself would probably have been less of a long way, but only so at the risk of getting lost and needing even more time. Therefore Manald relocated himself to the west gate by running along the top of the wall in the south.

Upon his arrival he wished for having gone through the city and gotten lost there...

The lycan was unfamiliar with this dwarven invention of 'cannons'. The ongoing preparations to fire one of them were not as obvious to him as they were to many others, so he didn't care much when running past one of the crews manning them. He could hear the men beefing about him as he ran past them as one of his elbows accidentally touched one of them in the overall turmoil that was going on. Then, a moment later, there was a bang that felt next to unbelievable for him. The last bit of information he could get from his ears was that it came from behind his back. Then there was only disturbance and ringing, no further voices or other meaningful sounds to be heard.

Had his hypersensitive ears just died ?

Not even noticing himself anymore that he was hissing in the process, Manald turned around and looked back at the men with their cannon. A plume of smoke invaded his nostrils, too, but the slight itch it caused was nothing compared to what had happened to his hearing. He saw the soldiers returning the stare, a few of them grinning nonchalantly. The expression quickly faded from their faces once they saw Manald's threatening teeth. He was not amused!

One the plus side he would not have worry much about more cannon shots, but he could no longer receive any orders or hints anymore as well. That was unless someone would dare to wield a big shield with letters on it, of course. Luckily though a quick look down the wall still told him the story about the goblins doing something at the gate's threshold. It could only be a bad thing for the smell of explosive powder and the sight of fire reached him once more. But what should he do ? Jump down the wall ? The gate wouldn't hold for long anymore this way.

Manald quickly discarded the thought. Instead he retreated into the gatehouse, taking his second set of leather armor with him. At first there was nothing, but then a muffled scream could be heard by everyone closeby. It wasn't like the war shout Manald had delivered earlier, but sounded much more like the very mundane attempt to stifle intense agony with crying. It was followed by several others, albeit much smaller outbursts until there was silence again in the gatehouse. The bottom-level door on the city side of it was tossed open and clashed against the wall quite hard. Manald had no intention of damaging any of the lord's properties on purpose, but the sheer inadequacy of the exit's size almost left him no other choice. And of course he currently was flat-out unable to hear anything almost breaking.

Ducking greatly and walking halfway sideways just in order to get his shoulders through somehow, the lycanthrope emerged on the street behind the gate fully shifted and clad in his much bigger armor. Manald had borrowed a two-handed sword from a rack in the gatehouse, but his confidence in the weapon's durability was as low as was his confidence in his own ability to wield it like a real swordsman. Anyway, he'd try his best to give those goblins a warm welcome should they breach the gate in any case. If they wouldn't at all... well then he wouldn't be able to pull this off a second time this day or so, but maybe he could make himself useful in other ways then.