Harbringer

Morituri te Salutant: Arkreidian Gladiators

Yeah ill just bump the interest check. Worst case scenario i open one in casual too.

Fire Emblem: A Blinding Light

Oh i was just moving 5 squares and shouting real loud

Morituri te Salutant: Arkreidian Gladiators

Wondering if we should find one more for this.

Fire Emblem: A Blinding Light

"I'm...I'm fine," Archibald said as the initial shock of his arrow release left him. Turning to the young healer, he flashed a somewhat faked smile. "I'm completely fine, no need to worry," he said as he smoothed his hair over the right side of his face. No-one needed to know. 'Why do you hide yourself?' the voice rang again, 'be true to your desires!' With an intense internal effort, he gagged the voices and once more locked them in the back of his head. No-one needed to know... Closing his eyes, Archibald took a deep breath and steadied himself. The initial sweat had dried up now as a cool breeze blew past. They were nearing the entrance now.

Opening his eyes, a wide smile appeared over his face. "Alright you sons of bitches!" he shouted to Aiph and Darius, "just a few more leagues and we're home free! And the only thing standing in our way is Morag!" This elicited a cheer from Aiph and a a small grunt and spit from Darius. "Let's show him the same hospitality he showed our boys a month ago!" Archibald hissed with little malice, his hand resting on a particularly colourful looking arrow. For every enemy, Archibald had a special arrow made for them. In Morag's case, it was a cruel creature. With an easily splintered shaft and a hooked, barbed bone head, this thing was meant to shatter upon insertion...and stay there. It wouldn't necessarily kill him, but it would most definitely hurt. The voice rose up to the surface again as he fingered the rough raven feathers of the fletching. 'An eye for an eye...' For once...Archibald agreed. The torture and murder of one of his men would not go unpunished.

He and the Spike Guild leader were very much opposites. Archibald was carefree and fun loving. Morag was cruel and greedy. Archibald commanded his men through respect, camraderie and friendship. Morg ruled by fear and an iron fist. As such, it would only be natural that the two would meet each other in combat sooner or later. Dashing forward, his cloak flapping behind him, Archibald cleared the wall and came into view of the guild leader. "Oi! Morag you pox-ridden, ponce brained, limp wristed sheep fondler!" he yelled across the distance separating them as he pulled his hood up, "I've come to repay the hospitality you showed my boy last month!"

Morituri te Salutant: Arkreidian Gladiators

Got my post up. We could possibly have other uses for the Skytalon NPC I created. (: Let me know if everything looks good.

@bluejay_gl

If he lives that long that is XD.

Morituri te Salutant: Arkreidian Gladiators

Cool cool. Looking forward to it.

Morituri te Salutant: Arkreidian Gladiators

It was only a day since he had been purchased by the lanista, and already he was standing in line with nine others. After his little ordeal, he had been taken away by horse drawn cart to a large, open building which his purchaser had called a 'Ludus'. Scarcely minutes after entering, Eltharion was manhandled by an orc onto a scale where he was stripped almost naked, weighed and measured, the recordings being written down by the same man who had bought him, his aquiline sneer in stark contrast to his rotund belly. With little time for a break, he was re-clothed in slightly less soiled rags and led to what seemed to be some sort of paddock which still had fresh blood staining the sand. Stepping in, he was handed a long wooden spear and told to defend himself. 'From what' had scarcely left his lips before the orc brought out a cage and threw it onto the sand. From within its confines, a scavvy, a large, angry rodent, burst out and immediately began its assault.

Having had very little sustenance over the past few days, Eltharion had barely bested the beast, knocking it unconscious with a well aimed thrust, but it seemed enough to interest the lanista as he wrote down more observations. Having managed to attain a small break, Eltharion looked around and saw a multitude of people locked in combat with wooden weapons, each seeking to outmanoeuvre or overpower their opponent, though more than a few of them seemed to contain people in a similar situation to him as they struggled with various beasts. After the gruelling fight, he was changed into a set of even less filthy rags and re incarcerated in a small cell block, his only sustenance being a thick gruel and a battered mug of water which he partook of greedily. It had been a long time since his last proper meal and the gruel, though tasteless, served to satiate some of his hunger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At dawn of the next day, Eltharion had been unceremoniously dragged out of his bale of hay and forced into the dim morning light to stand between two blurry figures. With his days in the Forest Thorns having desensitised him to such events, the elf managed to awaken himself in a relatively short time, although he could not say the same for others. As he grew more alert, he looked around him. The previously filled paddocks were empty, wooden weapons discarded to the side and an eerie silence had descended, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird. Their collective breaths misted in the cold crisp air as a faint breeze chilled their skin, with the only thing moving being a sparse tree fighting the wind. Slowly, his attention was drawn to the sound of clapping hooves and the rhythmic tapping of metal wheels. Looking over towards the entrance of the ludus, Eltharion caught sight of another horse drawn wagon pulling in, this time much larger and covered with a thick black cloth. On the side was emblazoned some sort of crest in crude white paint, but some of it had already peeled off. As the cart pulled to a stop, someone stepped out of the back.

With his cruel, hooked nose, dark sunken eyes and rotund figure, it was hard to not guess who it was. With surprising dexterity, the lanista hopped off of the back and removed a short wooden cane from the interior before leaning heavily on it. Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be missing a leg which had been replaced by a thin shaft of wood. Slowly, he started to approach the assembled line and stood at the head. No-one spoke. For the next few seconds, all eyes were trained on him and his own were used to meet the gaze of each individual. Finally, he tapped his cane against the cold flagstones of the ground. "Rejoice, slaves," he boomed, his voice deep and guttural, like two granite boulders being rubbed together, "I have chosen you to represent me in today's gladiatorial games." A collective gasp went through some of the assembled party. He ignored it. "This means that you will be fighting for the entertainment of the people of Lairea," he continued. His voice seemed to bear a slight poison to his words, but it remained only for a second before disappearing. "Some of you will die, and I will have wasted my denars on a lost cause," he said as he started to hobble around, locking eyes with each one of them, "but to those of you who have lived...I have much more in store for you." Stopping at the other end of the line, he turned back around. "You will continue to fight for me," he said as he straightened up. Gritting his teeth, Eltharion glared at him. He was a plaything for him. Obviously, it was not only him who thought it as a Thunderhoof stepped out of line. "And what if I just crush your sickly little bones here, human?" he boomed as he reached out of the man's neck. In a flash, the man's cane flew out and slapped the beastman's hand away before returning and slamming across the thunderhoof's face, leaving a long welt. "I will have you terminated immediately," was the immediate reply as an orc stepped out, a large axe in hand. Dried blood caked its surface as he growled, learning towards the thunderhoof.

Taking a step forwards, Eltharion met the eyes of the human. "And what is to stop us, as a collective group, destroying your...ludus...and escaping?" he asked, the word still unfamiliar in his mouth. The human scoffed. "The urban legionnaires of course," he said, "and my other gladiators." Eltharion's eyes narrowed. "And for what reason would they remain loyal to you?" The human sighed as he hobbled closer, "Because they heard out my proposal in full," he said as he glared up into Eltharion's eyes, "now step back and let me finish, youngling." Gritting his teeth, the elf stepped back into line, even as the Thunderhoof was dragged back as well. "As I was saying, you will continue to fight for me," he said as he sat back onto the cart, "until you either die," he said as he held a hand up to stifle any complaints, "or you pay off double what I paid for you." The elf raised his eyebrow. "I am a tough, cruel man, tis true," he continued as he rested his peg leg on his good thigh, "but I am a fair man nontheless. If you can pay your price back twofold, I will release you to your own will and allow you passage out of the city." With a lopsided smile, he took out a pipe and started to prepare it. "Is it a deal?"

Sidling over, he lit his pipe. "Well?" he prompted as he gestured in with his free hand. Looking around, he saw no-one budge. They looked towards each other, maybe for guidance, or maybe to single out the weak willed? Either way...Eltharion considered his offer, his gaze returning to the cart. Taking a deep breath, he took a single step forward, drawing more than a few eyes. Locking eyes with the grinning Lanista, Eltharion struggled not to bear his teeth. Turning to the other 9 in the line, Eltharion cleared his throat. "Individually, we cannot hope to best the city's guard," he said as he stood at the foot of the cart, "but...perhaps if we unite our power, we may be able to secure our freedom one battle at a time. What's say you all?"

Morituri te Salutant: Arkreidian Gladiators

Sweet. Working on the IC right now. Soon people. Soon

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

As Alexis’s voice patched in through his comms, Gerard nodded. “Affirmative, moving to intercept,” he said as he split off and shifted along the defensive line, “I leave the others to you, comrades, but try to leave some for me after I deal with this little bastard,” he said as he fell in line with Yuu. Locking onto the white MAS, Delacroix narrowed his eyes and racked the scattergun as he loosened the ammo belt with a light tug. “Echo,” he muttered into the comms, “I need you to cover me in my approach, but cease fire as soon as I hit engagement range.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the white MAS seemed to blink forwards and took a swipe at McKnight who managed to roll away. Keeping his trigger finger loose, Gerard tried to find an angle in which he wouldn’t harm his allies. Swearing viciously in French as the white MAS sped past again, two black Sentries engaged it, pumping their autocannons at it before one exploded into a giant fireball. “Moving to engage!” Gerard said as he gunned his engines, bringing the scattergun up to his shoulder.

As the second Sentry was shredded, floating into space, Gerard entered effective range. Almost instantly, the Marauder began to pump shot after shot in the direction of the enemy. The red hot pellets seared outwards in a bright flashing fan but the white MAS managed to dodge the majority of them and the few that did connect didn’t even pierce the shield. Nevertheless, Gerard continued to fire. “Echo! See if you can soften him up for me!” he shouted as he maglocked the gun to his hip before pulling out the Ravager.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

I don't. I just like to have extra oomph in my kicks.