Sorry I took so long to post. Hard to join an RP when it's in the middle of the adventure(s).
No problem, this is a slow-paced RP anyways.
Mardox
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An internet Dark Lord
STATUS: This is probably going to be my character for an RP about Space Pirates: imgur.com/1tIgW0k 7 yrs ago
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- Mardox 9 yrs ago
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This is probably going to be my character for an RP about Space Pirates: imgur.com/1tIgW0k
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7 yrs ago
Ever oversleep your alarm by eleven hours?
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7 yrs ago
Sleep was invented by the communists to reduce the time we spend active.
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7 yrs ago
That awkward moment when you glimpse a dog stylist advertisement and before you realize what it is, you assume it's an ad to raise awareness about animal cruelty.
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7 yrs ago
A friend introduced me to a site called nanowrimo.org Technically a novel-writing site but they seem to have useful stuff for writing in general in the forums.
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Most Recent Posts
No problem, this is a slow-paced RP anyways.
@PrinceOfHeaven
As morning broke upon the Holy Order's citadel, Herbert awoke. He was in a luxurious bed, with Erika slumbering peacefully beside him. As he curled up contentedly beside his lover, all seemed right in the world. It was then that he remembered that he had to petition a man believing himself to be the Prince of Heaven for assistance in trying to kill a dragon that was capable of slaying deities. The monster hunter gave a strangled half-sigh and began gathering the willpower to get out of bed.
Before Herbert got out of bed, Erika began to stir. The half-manticore yawned and stretched. "Good morning Herbert."
Herbert leaned over and kissed Erika. "Good morning, my sweet little lioness." The scarred hunter lay down and snuggled next to her. Erika chuckled and embraced him. "We're keeping the lioness moniker then?"
"Indeed we are." Said Herbert with a mischievous smile as he softly caressed her hair. The pair lay together for a while before Erika spoke. "While I certainly enjoy having you here, I thought you were getting up earlier?"
Herbert sighed. "Ah yes, I have to go ask a self-righteous megalomaniac to help us kill what is now a dark god. At least he's a somewhat well-mannered self-righteous megalomaniac." He gave Erika another kiss and got out of bed. "Hopefully I won't be too long."
"Alright." Said Erika. "Good luck with Lucian, I'll get a little more sleep and then once you're done talking to him, we can spend a little more time together."
[/hr]
The Grandmaster of the Order of the Knights Solanian awoke to his own circadian rhythm, occupying one of the modest beds of a guest chamber. The room was dark, owing to the fact that the sun had not yet come to the horizon to illuminate the sky. Rolling over, he could see on the endtable besides his bed a little wooden geared clock, one of those new time-tellers from Tarraconia. Supposedly synced with a sundial during the day, the hands on the clock's face read "5:32."
That seemed about right. Back in Aesernia, him and the Apostles would rise early for morning prayers, chores, and other exercises to be done before breakfast. However, recalling last night's fiasco and the arduous journey that awaited them, he felt it fitting to allow them to rest up further. Rising from bed, Lucian approached the wardrobe and donned a simple linen shirt and a thick, woolen, brown robe with a rope belt which he tied tight around his waist. Slipping on a pair of leather boots, he grabbed his sword in its scabbard and strapped it to the rope belt. With that, he crept out of his chambers and quietly made his way up and out of the keep's interior.
Cracking open the strong wooden door separating him from the frigid outdoors, he stepped out onto the snow with a light crunch. The snow had fallen hard in the time between the feast and his awakening, leaving Mirador coated in several inches of pure, white snow. As the wind whistled past him, he slipped the hood of his robe over his head and his arms into their opposing sleeves as he proceeded to walk the ramparts of the keep, gazing out into the valley below to see torches lit about the city. Some of the peasants had risen early for work it seemed, and Alvar was working the forge, if the larger glowing light in the market square was of any indication. Lucian walked over to the edge of the wall, leaning comfortably against the crenel between two merlons, and kept his gaze fixed on the world beyond the keep. The winter sky was alight with the galactic bands, the Celestial Nest and Dove forever entwined as the twin moons Feynia and Askion floated parallel to each other in the night.
As Lucian was complemplating the pre-dawn sky, the sound of footsteps behind him heralded Herbert's arrival. To protect against the chill, the monster hunter wore his usual gray cloak with the hood pulled up. "Grandmaster Aquila, my apologies for interrupting your morning, but I need to speak with you."
"Ah. Ser Leintke," Lucian said, still gazing up at the stars, soaking in the sight before it vanished with the morning light. "I'd like to thank you for attending the feast, though it's a shame we didn't get to converse much before that unsettling incident with Hargash -- I imagine that is what you've come to discuss?" he asked him, now turning to face the monster hunter.
"That it is." Stated Herbert with a grim expression upon his scarred face. "I know who - or what - killed Hargash. The dragon Htraknu possessed the means to kill him, and the fire the priests saw further implicates him. I want your help to kill the dragon."
The smile left the Grandmaster's face, being replaced with a look of pure concern and wonder. "Htraknu, the very same that attacked Krossavik?" he asked, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "I can see why you'd ask for help. Our interests align, then. You want justice for your people, and all I want is for the people of Thurius to survive his rampage and live in peace. You and I must both doubt then that he'd stop at just one Shaitun. So we must act quickly, lest he target the Gods, or worse, the Flame's mad cultists discover a moment of weakness and declare another Hariq War, this time on Samothrace and Foveros." The Aesernian began pacing back and forth, visibly worried but a far cry from being panicked. Instead the dilemma seemed to intrigue him, as though the conflict were one he was passionate about.
"And if he's now a dark god, we musn't assume he's operating alone. He has to have followers or accomplices. Perhaps that is the source of the recent outbreak of highly organized marauders," he theorized. "Alas, I cannot build walls without stone; I haven't enough information to be certain of his cult status. Have you any leads?" he suddenly asked Herbert. "Witness reports, captured equipment or uniforms, maps, journals, anything?"
"There was another survivor from Krossavik," began Herbert. "He set out to kill Htraknu twelve years ago, and is probably long dead by now, but he was the sort to record his battles. Once we find where he stayed while trying to kill Htraknu, we might be able to find information about the dragon's weaknesses or any followers he might have. I know of some other information, but I can't really get to it."
"That would do perfectly," Lucian replied, beaming eagerly, "a journal filled cover to cover with 12 years or less of information has to be of some substance. All we need is a reliable lead to its location and a way to acquire it and we'll swiftly have the journal. What more do you know?"
"A Viarosan nobleman took some of the survivor's things after he left for spite's sake. Bjorn - that's what his name was - made a lot of enemies, and this one in particular would never return the items, no matter what might be offered. If we did manage to retrieve the items in question, we'd be able to track down his hiding place and his notes." Replied Herbert thoughtfully. "We may need underhanded methods to acquire them, though..."
The Aesernian stroked his chin thoughtfully, leaning back against the merlon. "Given the necessity of Bjorn's information, one could hardly call this a wrongful cause... Alas, the Order is no thieves guild, and we do not train rogues and scoundrels." He paused for a moment to think, looking up to the star spangled sky, perhaps for inspiration. "That thief, although a disrespectful wretch, most impressively stole into the keep's cellars and managed to get past the guards to and from. Had we all been drunk, they'd have gotten away," he admitted. "Suppose we could direct them to steal Bjorn's items from this spiteful noble? The alternative of course would be to turn them in for the bounties they no doubt have accrued in the West." He shrugged indecisively, clearly open to ideas. "And again, my deepest apologies for my outburst as well as Kinara's. The Crusade... It's a sore spot for all of us. I assure you that the conduct you saw tonight is not indicative of the Order's usual."
"The thief could work..." Mused Herbert. "If you can get her to cooperate, then it sounds like a good idea. Do what you must to gain her cooperation. Bribery, holding her companion hostage, whatever you think will work. The items and papers could be the very key to stopping the dragon."
"Given her tendency towards insolence, it would be difficult to get her to cooperate. Though, I'm certain some sort of compromise can be reached," Lucian replied. "Our plan thus goes as follows: bring the thief and her slave-soldier to our side, have them steal into this nobleman's home and recover the missing items of note, bring them back to us, and study Htraknu's faction and weaknesses. We are agreed?"
"Aye." Replied the monster hunter. "Erika and the Hoffen girls have already volunteered to come along, by the way. Will any of your followers be joining us for the trip?"
"I will have to confer with my Apostles. Before I leave I will be making a decree to the people of Mirador. I am not sure if this is within my authority, but I am calling a Crusade against this beast and his followers. The entire Order will be actively hunting for further information and, if possible, those in league with Htraknu, as soon as the pigeons can spread the message to the other Seneschals. Those Kings and Queens who seek to aid us may potentially allocate resources towards stopping the dragon," Lucian explained. "To answer more directly, I'm considering bringing Sorano and Kinara with us, though I don't know how well they'd take to the thief and her eastern companion... especially Kinara, the poor darling." He spoke softly and empathetically for the lattermost statement, his gaze trailing off, as if he were in thought about something.
"I wouldn't advise calling for a Crusade." Said Herbert. "From what I know, not many outside of your Order appreciate the claims of your parentage. Calling for a Crusade would likely be seen by the Pope as an attempt to seize leadership of the Solanian faith. You might just end up with a Crusade against yourself." He paused in further contemplation with a grimace. "An appeal to self-interest might be more effective in persuading monarchs to assist us. As for your companions, Sorano would probably be an asset but I don't know if bringing the Samothaur is wise - we'll likely come across far worse than easterners."
"Then I will beseech the Patriarch to make it a Crusade," Lucian replied. "And if he cannot see the danger of this Shaitun-killer, then so be it; the Order will stand alone against him. As for 'the Samothaur' as you put it, Kinara is no coward, nor is she to be considered a nonthreat. She is a powerful archer and has killed her share of slavers, monsters, and easterners. She would be an asset just as much as Sorano or any other Apostle. I handpicked them for a reason."
Herbert took a breath that was just barely noticeable as deeper than usual and looked Lucian in the eye. "This is not the Order's fight alone. I must ask that you do your best to be diplomatic when asking for help. As for Kinara, if you believe she will be an asset, then by all means, bring her along. Do know however, that I will not hesitate to cut away any dead weight. Taking down this dragon is far more important than the Order's glory."
Lucian smiled and laughed, "Oh, you misunderstand me Ser Leintke. I have no intentions to make this about honour and glory nor to seize credit where it is undue. If the Patriarch in Aesera refuses to acknowledge Htraknu and the death of Hargash after the facts are presented, then we can wage this war without the help of the other rulers. And I assure you, Apostle Kinara will prove herself to you as anything except dead weight."
Leintke was irritated, distrustful, that much Lucian could read like an open book. For that he had nobody to blame but himself; for a more attentive man and a better leader would be more inquisitive, and would seek to understand his allies, never to make conclusions without proper knowledge, lest he bias his judgement.
He, like so many outsiders before him who had been in contact with the Order, mistrusted it and its Grandmaster, seeing only heretical fervour and megalomania. Still, it was forgivable to assume many falsehoods. Lucian felt no ill will, he decided. It wasn't as though the man before him had blatantly mocked the Order's dead...
"I plan on accompanying you myself, rather than sending men to do this for me -- It's been far too long since I've been traveling with outsiders. Not since the Crusade, I don't think," Lucian eventually said, breaking the silence that had just set in. He seemed enthusiastic about that. "So I'd like to get to know you better before we get on the road."
Herbert smiled politely. "I'm afraid I must decline, Grandmaster. Erika is waiting for me. We will have plenty of time to get acquainted on the road. I daresay you'll find there are few other options while travelling long distances. In the meantime, I bid you good day." With that, he turned to leave.
Lucian perked his brow, watching Herbert leave the way he came. He was a curious individual, and it was most unfortunate that their first impressions of each other were so muddled by circumstance and rumours.
The Grandmaster turned around once again to gaze out over the wall of the keep, looking out upon the city below. The pristine view of the galaxy began to fade away as the first glimmers of light pierced the horizon, bringing forth the dawn. Lucian lingered a moment longer, reflecting on the journey that awaited him, then took his leave.
As morning broke upon the Holy Order's citadel, Herbert awoke. He was in a luxurious bed, with Erika slumbering peacefully beside him. As he curled up contentedly beside his lover, all seemed right in the world. It was then that he remembered that he had to petition a man believing himself to be the Prince of Heaven for assistance in trying to kill a dragon that was capable of slaying deities. The monster hunter gave a strangled half-sigh and began gathering the willpower to get out of bed.
Before Herbert got out of bed, Erika began to stir. The half-manticore yawned and stretched. "Good morning Herbert."
Herbert leaned over and kissed Erika. "Good morning, my sweet little lioness." The scarred hunter lay down and snuggled next to her. Erika chuckled and embraced him. "We're keeping the lioness moniker then?"
"Indeed we are." Said Herbert with a mischievous smile as he softly caressed her hair. The pair lay together for a while before Erika spoke. "While I certainly enjoy having you here, I thought you were getting up earlier?"
Herbert sighed. "Ah yes, I have to go ask a self-righteous megalomaniac to help us kill what is now a dark god. At least he's a somewhat well-mannered self-righteous megalomaniac." He gave Erika another kiss and got out of bed. "Hopefully I won't be too long."
"Alright." Said Erika. "Good luck with Lucian, I'll get a little more sleep and then once you're done talking to him, we can spend a little more time together."
[/hr]
The Grandmaster of the Order of the Knights Solanian awoke to his own circadian rhythm, occupying one of the modest beds of a guest chamber. The room was dark, owing to the fact that the sun had not yet come to the horizon to illuminate the sky. Rolling over, he could see on the endtable besides his bed a little wooden geared clock, one of those new time-tellers from Tarraconia. Supposedly synced with a sundial during the day, the hands on the clock's face read "5:32."
That seemed about right. Back in Aesernia, him and the Apostles would rise early for morning prayers, chores, and other exercises to be done before breakfast. However, recalling last night's fiasco and the arduous journey that awaited them, he felt it fitting to allow them to rest up further. Rising from bed, Lucian approached the wardrobe and donned a simple linen shirt and a thick, woolen, brown robe with a rope belt which he tied tight around his waist. Slipping on a pair of leather boots, he grabbed his sword in its scabbard and strapped it to the rope belt. With that, he crept out of his chambers and quietly made his way up and out of the keep's interior.
Cracking open the strong wooden door separating him from the frigid outdoors, he stepped out onto the snow with a light crunch. The snow had fallen hard in the time between the feast and his awakening, leaving Mirador coated in several inches of pure, white snow. As the wind whistled past him, he slipped the hood of his robe over his head and his arms into their opposing sleeves as he proceeded to walk the ramparts of the keep, gazing out into the valley below to see torches lit about the city. Some of the peasants had risen early for work it seemed, and Alvar was working the forge, if the larger glowing light in the market square was of any indication. Lucian walked over to the edge of the wall, leaning comfortably against the crenel between two merlons, and kept his gaze fixed on the world beyond the keep. The winter sky was alight with the galactic bands, the Celestial Nest and Dove forever entwined as the twin moons Feynia and Askion floated parallel to each other in the night.
As Lucian was complemplating the pre-dawn sky, the sound of footsteps behind him heralded Herbert's arrival. To protect against the chill, the monster hunter wore his usual gray cloak with the hood pulled up. "Grandmaster Aquila, my apologies for interrupting your morning, but I need to speak with you."
"Ah. Ser Leintke," Lucian said, still gazing up at the stars, soaking in the sight before it vanished with the morning light. "I'd like to thank you for attending the feast, though it's a shame we didn't get to converse much before that unsettling incident with Hargash -- I imagine that is what you've come to discuss?" he asked him, now turning to face the monster hunter.
"That it is." Stated Herbert with a grim expression upon his scarred face. "I know who - or what - killed Hargash. The dragon Htraknu possessed the means to kill him, and the fire the priests saw further implicates him. I want your help to kill the dragon."
The smile left the Grandmaster's face, being replaced with a look of pure concern and wonder. "Htraknu, the very same that attacked Krossavik?" he asked, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "I can see why you'd ask for help. Our interests align, then. You want justice for your people, and all I want is for the people of Thurius to survive his rampage and live in peace. You and I must both doubt then that he'd stop at just one Shaitun. So we must act quickly, lest he target the Gods, or worse, the Flame's mad cultists discover a moment of weakness and declare another Hariq War, this time on Samothrace and Foveros." The Aesernian began pacing back and forth, visibly worried but a far cry from being panicked. Instead the dilemma seemed to intrigue him, as though the conflict were one he was passionate about.
"And if he's now a dark god, we musn't assume he's operating alone. He has to have followers or accomplices. Perhaps that is the source of the recent outbreak of highly organized marauders," he theorized. "Alas, I cannot build walls without stone; I haven't enough information to be certain of his cult status. Have you any leads?" he suddenly asked Herbert. "Witness reports, captured equipment or uniforms, maps, journals, anything?"
"There was another survivor from Krossavik," began Herbert. "He set out to kill Htraknu twelve years ago, and is probably long dead by now, but he was the sort to record his battles. Once we find where he stayed while trying to kill Htraknu, we might be able to find information about the dragon's weaknesses or any followers he might have. I know of some other information, but I can't really get to it."
"That would do perfectly," Lucian replied, beaming eagerly, "a journal filled cover to cover with 12 years or less of information has to be of some substance. All we need is a reliable lead to its location and a way to acquire it and we'll swiftly have the journal. What more do you know?"
"A Viarosan nobleman took some of the survivor's things after he left for spite's sake. Bjorn - that's what his name was - made a lot of enemies, and this one in particular would never return the items, no matter what might be offered. If we did manage to retrieve the items in question, we'd be able to track down his hiding place and his notes." Replied Herbert thoughtfully. "We may need underhanded methods to acquire them, though..."
The Aesernian stroked his chin thoughtfully, leaning back against the merlon. "Given the necessity of Bjorn's information, one could hardly call this a wrongful cause... Alas, the Order is no thieves guild, and we do not train rogues and scoundrels." He paused for a moment to think, looking up to the star spangled sky, perhaps for inspiration. "That thief, although a disrespectful wretch, most impressively stole into the keep's cellars and managed to get past the guards to and from. Had we all been drunk, they'd have gotten away," he admitted. "Suppose we could direct them to steal Bjorn's items from this spiteful noble? The alternative of course would be to turn them in for the bounties they no doubt have accrued in the West." He shrugged indecisively, clearly open to ideas. "And again, my deepest apologies for my outburst as well as Kinara's. The Crusade... It's a sore spot for all of us. I assure you that the conduct you saw tonight is not indicative of the Order's usual."
"The thief could work..." Mused Herbert. "If you can get her to cooperate, then it sounds like a good idea. Do what you must to gain her cooperation. Bribery, holding her companion hostage, whatever you think will work. The items and papers could be the very key to stopping the dragon."
"Given her tendency towards insolence, it would be difficult to get her to cooperate. Though, I'm certain some sort of compromise can be reached," Lucian replied. "Our plan thus goes as follows: bring the thief and her slave-soldier to our side, have them steal into this nobleman's home and recover the missing items of note, bring them back to us, and study Htraknu's faction and weaknesses. We are agreed?"
"Aye." Replied the monster hunter. "Erika and the Hoffen girls have already volunteered to come along, by the way. Will any of your followers be joining us for the trip?"
"I will have to confer with my Apostles. Before I leave I will be making a decree to the people of Mirador. I am not sure if this is within my authority, but I am calling a Crusade against this beast and his followers. The entire Order will be actively hunting for further information and, if possible, those in league with Htraknu, as soon as the pigeons can spread the message to the other Seneschals. Those Kings and Queens who seek to aid us may potentially allocate resources towards stopping the dragon," Lucian explained. "To answer more directly, I'm considering bringing Sorano and Kinara with us, though I don't know how well they'd take to the thief and her eastern companion... especially Kinara, the poor darling." He spoke softly and empathetically for the lattermost statement, his gaze trailing off, as if he were in thought about something.
"I wouldn't advise calling for a Crusade." Said Herbert. "From what I know, not many outside of your Order appreciate the claims of your parentage. Calling for a Crusade would likely be seen by the Pope as an attempt to seize leadership of the Solanian faith. You might just end up with a Crusade against yourself." He paused in further contemplation with a grimace. "An appeal to self-interest might be more effective in persuading monarchs to assist us. As for your companions, Sorano would probably be an asset but I don't know if bringing the Samothaur is wise - we'll likely come across far worse than easterners."
"Then I will beseech the Patriarch to make it a Crusade," Lucian replied. "And if he cannot see the danger of this Shaitun-killer, then so be it; the Order will stand alone against him. As for 'the Samothaur' as you put it, Kinara is no coward, nor is she to be considered a nonthreat. She is a powerful archer and has killed her share of slavers, monsters, and easterners. She would be an asset just as much as Sorano or any other Apostle. I handpicked them for a reason."
Herbert took a breath that was just barely noticeable as deeper than usual and looked Lucian in the eye. "This is not the Order's fight alone. I must ask that you do your best to be diplomatic when asking for help. As for Kinara, if you believe she will be an asset, then by all means, bring her along. Do know however, that I will not hesitate to cut away any dead weight. Taking down this dragon is far more important than the Order's glory."
Lucian smiled and laughed, "Oh, you misunderstand me Ser Leintke. I have no intentions to make this about honour and glory nor to seize credit where it is undue. If the Patriarch in Aesera refuses to acknowledge Htraknu and the death of Hargash after the facts are presented, then we can wage this war without the help of the other rulers. And I assure you, Apostle Kinara will prove herself to you as anything except dead weight."
Leintke was irritated, distrustful, that much Lucian could read like an open book. For that he had nobody to blame but himself; for a more attentive man and a better leader would be more inquisitive, and would seek to understand his allies, never to make conclusions without proper knowledge, lest he bias his judgement.
He, like so many outsiders before him who had been in contact with the Order, mistrusted it and its Grandmaster, seeing only heretical fervour and megalomania. Still, it was forgivable to assume many falsehoods. Lucian felt no ill will, he decided. It wasn't as though the man before him had blatantly mocked the Order's dead...
"I plan on accompanying you myself, rather than sending men to do this for me -- It's been far too long since I've been traveling with outsiders. Not since the Crusade, I don't think," Lucian eventually said, breaking the silence that had just set in. He seemed enthusiastic about that. "So I'd like to get to know you better before we get on the road."
Herbert smiled politely. "I'm afraid I must decline, Grandmaster. Erika is waiting for me. We will have plenty of time to get acquainted on the road. I daresay you'll find there are few other options while travelling long distances. In the meantime, I bid you good day." With that, he turned to leave.
Lucian perked his brow, watching Herbert leave the way he came. He was a curious individual, and it was most unfortunate that their first impressions of each other were so muddled by circumstance and rumours.
The Grandmaster turned around once again to gaze out over the wall of the keep, looking out upon the city below. The pristine view of the galaxy began to fade away as the first glimmers of light pierced the horizon, bringing forth the dawn. Lucian lingered a moment longer, reflecting on the journey that awaited him, then took his leave.
Written with @PrinceOfHeaven and @BlondyMcHuggles
A Call to Arms
With the unfortunate thieving incident behind them, the Order continued their feast in Mirador Keep. At this time they had progressed to the fourth course, consistering of light wafers, jellies and preserves, cream covered in fennel seeds and preserved in sugar, white cream with cheese and fresh strawberries, and plums stewed in rose syrup. Each dish was served by young pages and squires to the guests, who occupied themselves once again with their companions and with the music of the bards.
Apostle Sorano seemed to favor the white cream and strawberries at first, though was beginning to noticeably slow down, his brow furrowed as if he were in deep thought. He had a contemplative aura about him as he looked off into the distance. Delicately placing a cream-dipped berry into his mouth, he looked over to Erika and Herbert. "Tore apart a werewolf unarmed? Normally such a feat is performed by the werewolf. I have a few ideas as to how this is possible, but I would not like to make baseless assumptions; each seems more ridiculous than the last, which leads me to believe that perhaps your partner's tale is mere embellishment. Fiction."
Erika smiled back, now somewhat amused by the elf's lack of faith. "Truth can be stranger than fiction, Apostle Loraethal. Why not tell us what these 'ridiculous ideas' are?" With that, she took a small bite of her own serving of white cream and strawberries. Meanwhile, Herbert sipped at a cold beverage and listened to the conversation with a smile twitching at his lips.
"The first is that you killed the werewolf in a fit of desperate wrath, killing it with your bare hands before ripping it open," Sorano replied, leaning fowards. "The second, that you possess some sort of magical power, potentially a form of berserker rage. Third, is that you are of questionable heritage, granting you strength superior to that of the lycans." He punctuated his explanation with another strawberry, chewing quietly as he looked the unassuming human over.
"'Questionable?' All this time and you've never once commented on my giant blood," Katla remarked, chuckling at Sorano. "What pairing would you consider so out there as to be questionable?"
The Sun Elf swallowed the strawberry and glanced over to the half-giant woman. "Something volatile to most people. A rare pairing, possibly a black-widow mating," he responded. "But I do not wish to insinuate that which is false..."
The healer contemplated Sorano's theories for a moment before speaking. "Desperate wrath - even in the most dire of scenarios - is no match for a lycanthrope on its own. As for berserk fury, I'm not entirely sure who would win in unarmed combat between a berserker and a werewolf. Nor am I cursed by Odys. Your last theory is the correct one. My parents were indeed a rare pair, but not a black-widow pairing." She paused, reflecting and then chuckled. "Let's see if you can guess my heritage, shall we?"
Sorano leaned back, narrowing his golden eyes at the Asmeinlander. "Ah... what could be vicious enough to take a werewolf..."
"Cyclops?" suggested Apostle Alessio.
"No, you dumb bastard, she'd only have the one eye if that were the case; Cyclopses are close enough to human to not need polymorphing, same with giants," retorted Apostle Sidon. "Clearly she is part Karkadann."
"And what in the fuck is a Karkadann, Sidon?" Alessio replied.
"Savarian unicorn, essentially, only it more closely resembles a rhinoceros. Hulking, black-scaled mass of muscle," said Apostle Yusuf as he continued to eat, staring nonchalantly at his meal and not once sparing the other two Apostles a glance, as if speaking to himself.
"A Karkadann doesn't have the power to tear something apart though. Goring, yes, but not ripping. Perhaps you are half-chimera?"
"No," Said Erika, "but it's definitely closer than a rhinoceros unicorn, except for the fact that a chimera is a beast rather than a being." She stretched briefly. "I'll give you a hint, it's native to the west and capable of thought."
"Capable of killing a werewolf in such a manner... native to the west... sentient. Which was the human if I may ask, the father or the mother?" Sorano inquired.
"My father was the human." Replied Erika, trying to think of what creatures might be ruled out by such a statement.
Sorano went quiet, his focused expression indicating that he was calculating the likelihood of each possibility. As he opened his mouth to speak, there was the low, deep sound of rumbling. Seconds later, plates, bowls, utensils, and goblets began shuddering atop the tables. Moments after this, Rhodric, Aranirya, and several other priests became visibly distressed, with Lucian following shortly.
"No, no that's not..." Aranirya mumbled to herself, holding her head.
"What is it this time...?" Sorano inquired, perking an eyebrow.
Lucian sat back in his seat, a glazed expression forming across his features as he stared off towards the ceiling. "So they do bleed..." he murmured. The rumbling grew more intense, turning into an outright tremor as the faint sound of something distant could be heard in the air. This sound was prolonged, hanging in the Great Hall for an extended period of time, before it suddenly exploded into an omnipresent, monstrous blend of a bloodcurdling scream and a ferocious roar, chillingly similar to that of a dragon's cry. Curiously, only the priests and Lucian flinched and blocked their ears.
"By the Gods! Hargash! Hargash!" screamed one of the priests, dropping to his knees in a panic. "The Shaituns, they can die, the Gods, they can die!" he said. "What black sorcery is this?! Has the Flame advanced?! It burns! Heat, fire! Scorched undeath!"
A couple of knights ran to his side, helping him up to his feet. The priest was a hyperventilating mess of a wood elf, clutching a knight's cuirass, gripping the surcoat. "Hargash is dead! I feel it, they feel it! The Whore Queen Rastuna weeps, the Army of the Dead bows to a new master!"
The raving priest's speech devolved into muddled Narbosi as he was escorted out of the Great Hall.
Erika grimaced and looked to Herbert. "That seems an Infernum of a lot more serious than a gutsy thief." The tenseness of her body language and the tightness with which she gripped her cup were the only clues as to just how uneasy she felt.
Herbert, meanwhile, had paled. "It can't be..." He said in a half-hushed whisper. There was fear and despair clearly present in his eyes and he seemed to be speaking to himself, as if desperately trying to convince himself that what he knew to be true was false. Eventually, he took a deep breath, and with determination replacing despair and fear, he looked to Erika and spoke. "It's Htraknu. It must be."
The half-manticore regarded her lover with equal parts confusion and concern. "Honey... Why do you think that Htraknu is the one who killed Hargash? All the priests said is that Hargash was slain, and that there was fire. Fire doesn't necessarily mean dragon fire."
The monster hunter shook his head. "It's not just the fire. He has Veturia's scalpel."
"Oh. Right." Said Erika quietly.
"He does not work alone," said Lucian, rising from his seat. "I hear and feel Hargash's presence in the Infernum dwindle, and mingle within the energy of another, stronger entity. Whatever it is, if it can kill a Shaitun, it can kill more. It's not like such creatures to stop once they've had a taste of dark power," he said. "And in order to invade an Infernal Realm, they had to have had some sort of help..." he sighed, holding his head as his premonition began to fade.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, I do thank you from the bottom of my heart for attending tonight's feast, however strange and eventful it was. Alas, I must excuse myself and my Apostles, for I need time to pray, to commune with the Gods and determine what this latest interruption means for us all. You are free to help yourselves to whatever food may be left, dismiss yourselves at your pace. Farewell, and have a blessed night, all of you." With that, Lucian gestured for his Apostles to rise and gather. "And, honoured guests, you are welcome to stay the night in the Keep," he added, bowing courteously to Herbert's group. He then walked off, headed out of the Great Hall with his ten Apostles in tow.
"I've had more than enough to eat." Said Erika to Herbert. "What are we going to do? Surely we can't take down Htraknu ourselves."
Herbert exhaled and thought for a moment. "I don't know how, but we need to find a way to end him. Lucian's right, he isn't going to stop - though I don't know what the dragon is planning." He paused. "We won't have to do it alone, though. Let's stay the night and in the morning, I'll ask Lucian for his help."
Athaliah and Rhiara looked absolutely stunned by what they were hearing everyone come out with. “Herbert, Erika – I’m coming too.” Athaliah said, resolutely. She looked at Rhiara, who nodded meekly. “If there’s something out there that can kill the very gods themselves, nobody is safe.”
Erika and Herbert regarded the pair from Hoffen quietly. Finally, Erika spoke. "Your help is certainly welcome, just remember what you're getting into. You said it yourself - this is a being that can kill the very gods. The odds aren't exactly in our favor."
“I know.” Ath looked down at the ground, thinking of how big her adventure had become. “It’s a stupid idea, but frankly, if we don’t kill him as soon as possible, then it’s all over.”
"Aye." Said Herbert. "If we don't stop him, the world as we know it will most likely burn. It's unlikely that we'll manage to defeat him, but there's at least a tiny chance, and that's better than just waiting for the end."
Rhiara, who had been silent throughout the affair, finally spoke up. Her voice was quieter than usual and she unsurprisingly looked troubled. “This isn’t a fight we can win; do you not see that? We’ll all die for nothing.” Her voice had gradually raised until she was nearly shouting. “You three can’t stop him, the Order can’t stop him-” Rhiara interrupted herself with a gulp. “Honestly, we lost as soon as Hargash fell.”
Herbert regarded her with steely determination. "Htraknu himself proved that that which lives can be slain. If the gods themselves can die, so can an overgrown megalomaniacal winged lizard. All we need is a plan and appropriate preparation." The monster hunter thought for a moment and then spoke. "Do you remember that other survivor I mentioned? He's probably long-dead, but he was the type to record his battles. If we can find where he lived while fighting the dragon's servants, then maybe we can find some information that will help us kill Htraknu."
“I guess we’re doing this, then…” Rhiara replied, back to her quiet self. She still thought that it was a stupid idea and a stupid plan that would get them killed, but she could see how determined Athaliah, Herbert and Erika were, and she saw how much that meant to the pair from Krossavik in particular. “Hey,” Athaliah said as she put an arm around her shoulder. “Everyone’s going to be fine, Rhiara.” The two looked each other in the eyes. “Nothing is going to hurt us, okay?” Rhiara nodded slowly in response. Privately, neither of them believed what she had just said.
A Call to Arms
With the unfortunate thieving incident behind them, the Order continued their feast in Mirador Keep. At this time they had progressed to the fourth course, consistering of light wafers, jellies and preserves, cream covered in fennel seeds and preserved in sugar, white cream with cheese and fresh strawberries, and plums stewed in rose syrup. Each dish was served by young pages and squires to the guests, who occupied themselves once again with their companions and with the music of the bards.
Apostle Sorano seemed to favor the white cream and strawberries at first, though was beginning to noticeably slow down, his brow furrowed as if he were in deep thought. He had a contemplative aura about him as he looked off into the distance. Delicately placing a cream-dipped berry into his mouth, he looked over to Erika and Herbert. "Tore apart a werewolf unarmed? Normally such a feat is performed by the werewolf. I have a few ideas as to how this is possible, but I would not like to make baseless assumptions; each seems more ridiculous than the last, which leads me to believe that perhaps your partner's tale is mere embellishment. Fiction."
Erika smiled back, now somewhat amused by the elf's lack of faith. "Truth can be stranger than fiction, Apostle Loraethal. Why not tell us what these 'ridiculous ideas' are?" With that, she took a small bite of her own serving of white cream and strawberries. Meanwhile, Herbert sipped at a cold beverage and listened to the conversation with a smile twitching at his lips.
"The first is that you killed the werewolf in a fit of desperate wrath, killing it with your bare hands before ripping it open," Sorano replied, leaning fowards. "The second, that you possess some sort of magical power, potentially a form of berserker rage. Third, is that you are of questionable heritage, granting you strength superior to that of the lycans." He punctuated his explanation with another strawberry, chewing quietly as he looked the unassuming human over.
"'Questionable?' All this time and you've never once commented on my giant blood," Katla remarked, chuckling at Sorano. "What pairing would you consider so out there as to be questionable?"
The Sun Elf swallowed the strawberry and glanced over to the half-giant woman. "Something volatile to most people. A rare pairing, possibly a black-widow mating," he responded. "But I do not wish to insinuate that which is false..."
The healer contemplated Sorano's theories for a moment before speaking. "Desperate wrath - even in the most dire of scenarios - is no match for a lycanthrope on its own. As for berserk fury, I'm not entirely sure who would win in unarmed combat between a berserker and a werewolf. Nor am I cursed by Odys. Your last theory is the correct one. My parents were indeed a rare pair, but not a black-widow pairing." She paused, reflecting and then chuckled. "Let's see if you can guess my heritage, shall we?"
Sorano leaned back, narrowing his golden eyes at the Asmeinlander. "Ah... what could be vicious enough to take a werewolf..."
"Cyclops?" suggested Apostle Alessio.
"No, you dumb bastard, she'd only have the one eye if that were the case; Cyclopses are close enough to human to not need polymorphing, same with giants," retorted Apostle Sidon. "Clearly she is part Karkadann."
"And what in the fuck is a Karkadann, Sidon?" Alessio replied.
"Savarian unicorn, essentially, only it more closely resembles a rhinoceros. Hulking, black-scaled mass of muscle," said Apostle Yusuf as he continued to eat, staring nonchalantly at his meal and not once sparing the other two Apostles a glance, as if speaking to himself.
"A Karkadann doesn't have the power to tear something apart though. Goring, yes, but not ripping. Perhaps you are half-chimera?"
"No," Said Erika, "but it's definitely closer than a rhinoceros unicorn, except for the fact that a chimera is a beast rather than a being." She stretched briefly. "I'll give you a hint, it's native to the west and capable of thought."
"Capable of killing a werewolf in such a manner... native to the west... sentient. Which was the human if I may ask, the father or the mother?" Sorano inquired.
"My father was the human." Replied Erika, trying to think of what creatures might be ruled out by such a statement.
Sorano went quiet, his focused expression indicating that he was calculating the likelihood of each possibility. As he opened his mouth to speak, there was the low, deep sound of rumbling. Seconds later, plates, bowls, utensils, and goblets began shuddering atop the tables. Moments after this, Rhodric, Aranirya, and several other priests became visibly distressed, with Lucian following shortly.
"No, no that's not..." Aranirya mumbled to herself, holding her head.
"What is it this time...?" Sorano inquired, perking an eyebrow.
Lucian sat back in his seat, a glazed expression forming across his features as he stared off towards the ceiling. "So they do bleed..." he murmured. The rumbling grew more intense, turning into an outright tremor as the faint sound of something distant could be heard in the air. This sound was prolonged, hanging in the Great Hall for an extended period of time, before it suddenly exploded into an omnipresent, monstrous blend of a bloodcurdling scream and a ferocious roar, chillingly similar to that of a dragon's cry. Curiously, only the priests and Lucian flinched and blocked their ears.
"By the Gods! Hargash! Hargash!" screamed one of the priests, dropping to his knees in a panic. "The Shaituns, they can die, the Gods, they can die!" he said. "What black sorcery is this?! Has the Flame advanced?! It burns! Heat, fire! Scorched undeath!"
A couple of knights ran to his side, helping him up to his feet. The priest was a hyperventilating mess of a wood elf, clutching a knight's cuirass, gripping the surcoat. "Hargash is dead! I feel it, they feel it! The Whore Queen Rastuna weeps, the Army of the Dead bows to a new master!"
The raving priest's speech devolved into muddled Narbosi as he was escorted out of the Great Hall.
Erika grimaced and looked to Herbert. "That seems an Infernum of a lot more serious than a gutsy thief." The tenseness of her body language and the tightness with which she gripped her cup were the only clues as to just how uneasy she felt.
Herbert, meanwhile, had paled. "It can't be..." He said in a half-hushed whisper. There was fear and despair clearly present in his eyes and he seemed to be speaking to himself, as if desperately trying to convince himself that what he knew to be true was false. Eventually, he took a deep breath, and with determination replacing despair and fear, he looked to Erika and spoke. "It's Htraknu. It must be."
The half-manticore regarded her lover with equal parts confusion and concern. "Honey... Why do you think that Htraknu is the one who killed Hargash? All the priests said is that Hargash was slain, and that there was fire. Fire doesn't necessarily mean dragon fire."
The monster hunter shook his head. "It's not just the fire. He has Veturia's scalpel."
"Oh. Right." Said Erika quietly.
"He does not work alone," said Lucian, rising from his seat. "I hear and feel Hargash's presence in the Infernum dwindle, and mingle within the energy of another, stronger entity. Whatever it is, if it can kill a Shaitun, it can kill more. It's not like such creatures to stop once they've had a taste of dark power," he said. "And in order to invade an Infernal Realm, they had to have had some sort of help..." he sighed, holding his head as his premonition began to fade.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, I do thank you from the bottom of my heart for attending tonight's feast, however strange and eventful it was. Alas, I must excuse myself and my Apostles, for I need time to pray, to commune with the Gods and determine what this latest interruption means for us all. You are free to help yourselves to whatever food may be left, dismiss yourselves at your pace. Farewell, and have a blessed night, all of you." With that, Lucian gestured for his Apostles to rise and gather. "And, honoured guests, you are welcome to stay the night in the Keep," he added, bowing courteously to Herbert's group. He then walked off, headed out of the Great Hall with his ten Apostles in tow.
"I've had more than enough to eat." Said Erika to Herbert. "What are we going to do? Surely we can't take down Htraknu ourselves."
Herbert exhaled and thought for a moment. "I don't know how, but we need to find a way to end him. Lucian's right, he isn't going to stop - though I don't know what the dragon is planning." He paused. "We won't have to do it alone, though. Let's stay the night and in the morning, I'll ask Lucian for his help."
Athaliah and Rhiara looked absolutely stunned by what they were hearing everyone come out with. “Herbert, Erika – I’m coming too.” Athaliah said, resolutely. She looked at Rhiara, who nodded meekly. “If there’s something out there that can kill the very gods themselves, nobody is safe.”
Erika and Herbert regarded the pair from Hoffen quietly. Finally, Erika spoke. "Your help is certainly welcome, just remember what you're getting into. You said it yourself - this is a being that can kill the very gods. The odds aren't exactly in our favor."
“I know.” Ath looked down at the ground, thinking of how big her adventure had become. “It’s a stupid idea, but frankly, if we don’t kill him as soon as possible, then it’s all over.”
"Aye." Said Herbert. "If we don't stop him, the world as we know it will most likely burn. It's unlikely that we'll manage to defeat him, but there's at least a tiny chance, and that's better than just waiting for the end."
Rhiara, who had been silent throughout the affair, finally spoke up. Her voice was quieter than usual and she unsurprisingly looked troubled. “This isn’t a fight we can win; do you not see that? We’ll all die for nothing.” Her voice had gradually raised until she was nearly shouting. “You three can’t stop him, the Order can’t stop him-” Rhiara interrupted herself with a gulp. “Honestly, we lost as soon as Hargash fell.”
Herbert regarded her with steely determination. "Htraknu himself proved that that which lives can be slain. If the gods themselves can die, so can an overgrown megalomaniacal winged lizard. All we need is a plan and appropriate preparation." The monster hunter thought for a moment and then spoke. "Do you remember that other survivor I mentioned? He's probably long-dead, but he was the type to record his battles. If we can find where he lived while fighting the dragon's servants, then maybe we can find some information that will help us kill Htraknu."
“I guess we’re doing this, then…” Rhiara replied, back to her quiet self. She still thought that it was a stupid idea and a stupid plan that would get them killed, but she could see how determined Athaliah, Herbert and Erika were, and she saw how much that meant to the pair from Krossavik in particular. “Hey,” Athaliah said as she put an arm around her shoulder. “Everyone’s going to be fine, Rhiara.” The two looked each other in the eyes. “Nothing is going to hurt us, okay?” Rhiara nodded slowly in response. Privately, neither of them believed what she had just said.
Mostly written by @Luftwaffles and @BlondyMcHuggles
The ground was not solid, but alive. It was a sea, an ocean of squirming masses, piles of bones, rotting flesh, broken bodies and crushed corpses. The world was dark and massive, but it was not silent. The corpses that made this land groaned and whimpered, countless voices raised in a twisted chorus of long, sobbing, wracking cries. No distinguishable words were spoken, but the screaming went on, always on. Some bodies were fresh, their vocal cords intact; and so their howling wails were the loudest. But there were older creatures as well, broken figures of nothing but bone and sinew. Their bodies squirmed as well, but not as vigorously.
There was one small crest in this void of despair and anguish, one shape that stood against the rolling swells of undeath. It looked to be a wretched creature, a pale figure of white skin and jutted bone. The monster’s body was smooth, but it seemed as though the skin had been stretched against it’s skeletal frame, as if a sheet of pale leather had been wrapped around a starving child. The creature’s face was milky and pure, and it had no lips or hair or nose or even eyes - the only thing on that could be distinguished was the mouth, from which sprung forth a set of chipped white fangs, all stained with red and black. When it reached from underneath the threadbare blanket covering it’s bony back, the corpses beneath it seemed to shrink away, as if desperately trying to keep out of its horrible reach. The creature’s fingers were long and spindly, sharpened at their ends and blackened by filth.
The Lord of the Lost wrapped his fingers around a fresh body, his forced smile widening as the decaying skull was raised to his teeth. Opening his mouth and exposing a black maw, Hargash began to devour his broken follower. Hargash greedily forced the decaying corpse down his gullet, pushing the body deeper with his thin fingers. Once the rotting toes disappeared down his throat, the evil god’s jaws slammed shut with a sickening crunch, and the shaitun continued on his shaky steps through the realm of the undead.
As the wretched god stumbled through his world of suffering, his routine was disrupted by a gout of flame that tore a hole in the sea of the damned. With a sound like the screams of a murdered legion and a smell like a graveyard burning, a pair of massive black gates composed of charred bones appeared within the fire. With a screech, they swung open and an enormous crimson dragon flew through them.
The dragon's snout was scarred by several long gashes, and the scales around the old wounds were paler than the rest, giving them a sickly sort of look. Perhaps a poison or venom had tainted them. The rest of the great reptile was marked with a number of other scars telling the tale of a lengthy life of violence. Here, a group of scars marked where dwarven crossbows had sent their bolts. There, claw marks spoke of another dragon who had been foolish enough to challenge him. He was Htraknu, Father of all Dragons.
The monstrous size of the dragon was apparent even from where Hargash was standing. Hargash was tall compared to humans in his own right at around nine feet, but Htraknu was easily seven times that. The dragon’s long face was always in a scowl, and this time was no different; his razor-sharp teeth the size of small men were bared for the god to see. “You couldn’t run forever, demon.”
His voice boomed around Hargash’s realm for anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to be alive to hear; it was deeper than a voice had any right to be and the end of every word was stretched out in his throat. Hargash, though, hadn’t done anything to show fear; after all, what could an immortal being be frightened of? The Father of Dragons stalked towards the god and every step brought the noises of bone being turned into powder and flesh being squished.
Hargash snickered, but he made sure to begin scrambling away from the gargantuan beast. “Yoooouuu werrreeee a fooollll to come heeereee, woooorrrrmmm.” He gnashed his fangs, oozing black discharge leaking from his closed teeth. “Thissss reeaaallmmmm isss mmiinnnee ooowwwnnn…” His voice broke into twisted cackling, and the Lord of the Lost disappeared into his ocean of the damned.
Htraknu let out a snarl of anger, attempting to raise his massive claws as he tracked the fleeing demon. However, he felt far more resistance than when he first arrived. The dragon looked down, seeing thousands of wretched bodies clambering on his mighty frame, dragging him downward.
The dragon lifted his colossal tail and brought it down onto the living, writhing ground with a mighty crash. It was all for nothing, however; the bodies that were crushed simply continued to move, spurred on by whatever evil magic controlled them. Htraknu managed to get his forelimbs free of the sea of flesh, though a few mangled corpses were still clinging on to his scales and claws. He stood up on his back legs and let out an immense roar as fire blasted from his mouth onto the ground.
The vile stench of melting flesh mixed with the horrid smell of death that was always in the air. “Hiding are we…?” the dragon growled but his small smile showed that he was relishing the hunt. He breathed fire at the ground again and again, and stomped his way around, dispersing some of the bodies. “You’re not… you’re not scared of me, are you?”
Without warning, the entire realm turned black for a split second; Hargash emerged from the black directly in front of where Htraknu stood. “Fffeeeeeeeearrrr isssss ffffforrrrrr plaaaaaythiiiiinnnnngsssssssss!” The demon was far larger than he was before as well – a benefit of being in his own realm. Hargash was in a frenzy as he swiped at the dragon’s head and neck, leaving several long and deep wounds. Getting so close to the dragon was not without its risks, however, as the demon soon discovered. He felt dozens on teeth puncturing into his body, before being shook around like a toy in a dog’s mouth. Hargash broke free of the dragon’s deadly grip by slashing at the beast’s eyes. The dragon let out a roar of fury, giving Hargash the perfect view of Htraknu’s teeth; a metallic glint caught the demon’s eyes and stark realisation hit him.
Hargash felt his power waning somewhat, and he knew that the only object that could do that was Veturia’s scalpel – unfortunately for him, that very scalpel was in the dragon’s mouth, acting as a tooth. “Do you feel it, demon?” the dragon taunted. “Do you realise how pathetic you are?” The demon turned around and ran as fast as his spindly legs could carry him, and instead of running him down and ending the fight, the dragon simply followed him.
After some time, the demon fell to his hands and knees from exhaustion. It was something a god could never have experienced before. He looked around his real and surprisingly, he saw no sign of the colossal dragon. His relief was smashed to pieces when a voice boomed from above. “It is truly a wonderful sight; a god on his hands and knees before me.” The dragon landed in front of the god and folded his wings back onto his back. “Thank you kindly for the entertainment.” He growled before biting into the weak god’s body. Just as the dragon had hoped, the scalpel had pierced Hargash’s heart. The demon squirmed pitifully for a second or two in the dragon’s maw; Htraknu simply shook his prey in his mouth to end him permanently. The ground started to shake as soon as the god perished, soon turning into what felt like an extremely powerful earthquake. A horrid scream came from the now-dead god, and its corpse convulsed uncontrollably while Htraknu felt himself growing in power. He commanded the corpses on the ground to stop moving, and they did just that. Htraknu now had control of his own divine realm and as far as he and his followers were concerned, he was a god already.
The ground was not solid, but alive. It was a sea, an ocean of squirming masses, piles of bones, rotting flesh, broken bodies and crushed corpses. The world was dark and massive, but it was not silent. The corpses that made this land groaned and whimpered, countless voices raised in a twisted chorus of long, sobbing, wracking cries. No distinguishable words were spoken, but the screaming went on, always on. Some bodies were fresh, their vocal cords intact; and so their howling wails were the loudest. But there were older creatures as well, broken figures of nothing but bone and sinew. Their bodies squirmed as well, but not as vigorously.
There was one small crest in this void of despair and anguish, one shape that stood against the rolling swells of undeath. It looked to be a wretched creature, a pale figure of white skin and jutted bone. The monster’s body was smooth, but it seemed as though the skin had been stretched against it’s skeletal frame, as if a sheet of pale leather had been wrapped around a starving child. The creature’s face was milky and pure, and it had no lips or hair or nose or even eyes - the only thing on that could be distinguished was the mouth, from which sprung forth a set of chipped white fangs, all stained with red and black. When it reached from underneath the threadbare blanket covering it’s bony back, the corpses beneath it seemed to shrink away, as if desperately trying to keep out of its horrible reach. The creature’s fingers were long and spindly, sharpened at their ends and blackened by filth.
The Lord of the Lost wrapped his fingers around a fresh body, his forced smile widening as the decaying skull was raised to his teeth. Opening his mouth and exposing a black maw, Hargash began to devour his broken follower. Hargash greedily forced the decaying corpse down his gullet, pushing the body deeper with his thin fingers. Once the rotting toes disappeared down his throat, the evil god’s jaws slammed shut with a sickening crunch, and the shaitun continued on his shaky steps through the realm of the undead.
As the wretched god stumbled through his world of suffering, his routine was disrupted by a gout of flame that tore a hole in the sea of the damned. With a sound like the screams of a murdered legion and a smell like a graveyard burning, a pair of massive black gates composed of charred bones appeared within the fire. With a screech, they swung open and an enormous crimson dragon flew through them.
The dragon's snout was scarred by several long gashes, and the scales around the old wounds were paler than the rest, giving them a sickly sort of look. Perhaps a poison or venom had tainted them. The rest of the great reptile was marked with a number of other scars telling the tale of a lengthy life of violence. Here, a group of scars marked where dwarven crossbows had sent their bolts. There, claw marks spoke of another dragon who had been foolish enough to challenge him. He was Htraknu, Father of all Dragons.
The monstrous size of the dragon was apparent even from where Hargash was standing. Hargash was tall compared to humans in his own right at around nine feet, but Htraknu was easily seven times that. The dragon’s long face was always in a scowl, and this time was no different; his razor-sharp teeth the size of small men were bared for the god to see. “You couldn’t run forever, demon.”
His voice boomed around Hargash’s realm for anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to be alive to hear; it was deeper than a voice had any right to be and the end of every word was stretched out in his throat. Hargash, though, hadn’t done anything to show fear; after all, what could an immortal being be frightened of? The Father of Dragons stalked towards the god and every step brought the noises of bone being turned into powder and flesh being squished.
Hargash snickered, but he made sure to begin scrambling away from the gargantuan beast. “Yoooouuu werrreeee a fooollll to come heeereee, woooorrrrmmm.” He gnashed his fangs, oozing black discharge leaking from his closed teeth. “Thissss reeaaallmmmm isss mmiinnnee ooowwwnnn…” His voice broke into twisted cackling, and the Lord of the Lost disappeared into his ocean of the damned.
Htraknu let out a snarl of anger, attempting to raise his massive claws as he tracked the fleeing demon. However, he felt far more resistance than when he first arrived. The dragon looked down, seeing thousands of wretched bodies clambering on his mighty frame, dragging him downward.
The dragon lifted his colossal tail and brought it down onto the living, writhing ground with a mighty crash. It was all for nothing, however; the bodies that were crushed simply continued to move, spurred on by whatever evil magic controlled them. Htraknu managed to get his forelimbs free of the sea of flesh, though a few mangled corpses were still clinging on to his scales and claws. He stood up on his back legs and let out an immense roar as fire blasted from his mouth onto the ground.
The vile stench of melting flesh mixed with the horrid smell of death that was always in the air. “Hiding are we…?” the dragon growled but his small smile showed that he was relishing the hunt. He breathed fire at the ground again and again, and stomped his way around, dispersing some of the bodies. “You’re not… you’re not scared of me, are you?”
Without warning, the entire realm turned black for a split second; Hargash emerged from the black directly in front of where Htraknu stood. “Fffeeeeeeeearrrr isssss ffffforrrrrr plaaaaaythiiiiinnnnngsssssssss!” The demon was far larger than he was before as well – a benefit of being in his own realm. Hargash was in a frenzy as he swiped at the dragon’s head and neck, leaving several long and deep wounds. Getting so close to the dragon was not without its risks, however, as the demon soon discovered. He felt dozens on teeth puncturing into his body, before being shook around like a toy in a dog’s mouth. Hargash broke free of the dragon’s deadly grip by slashing at the beast’s eyes. The dragon let out a roar of fury, giving Hargash the perfect view of Htraknu’s teeth; a metallic glint caught the demon’s eyes and stark realisation hit him.
Hargash felt his power waning somewhat, and he knew that the only object that could do that was Veturia’s scalpel – unfortunately for him, that very scalpel was in the dragon’s mouth, acting as a tooth. “Do you feel it, demon?” the dragon taunted. “Do you realise how pathetic you are?” The demon turned around and ran as fast as his spindly legs could carry him, and instead of running him down and ending the fight, the dragon simply followed him.
After some time, the demon fell to his hands and knees from exhaustion. It was something a god could never have experienced before. He looked around his real and surprisingly, he saw no sign of the colossal dragon. His relief was smashed to pieces when a voice boomed from above. “It is truly a wonderful sight; a god on his hands and knees before me.” The dragon landed in front of the god and folded his wings back onto his back. “Thank you kindly for the entertainment.” He growled before biting into the weak god’s body. Just as the dragon had hoped, the scalpel had pierced Hargash’s heart. The demon squirmed pitifully for a second or two in the dragon’s maw; Htraknu simply shook his prey in his mouth to end him permanently. The ground started to shake as soon as the god perished, soon turning into what felt like an extremely powerful earthquake. A horrid scream came from the now-dead god, and its corpse convulsed uncontrollably while Htraknu felt himself growing in power. He commanded the corpses on the ground to stop moving, and they did just that. Htraknu now had control of his own divine realm and as far as he and his followers were concerned, he was a god already.
Please note that Vakarlon is not the type to consistently hold a grudge. He's unpredictable. He can be either forgiving or vindictive depending on his mood. Also, your character is very similar to Ceara, a character made by @Luftwaffles. Some alteration would be best.
Name: Lucious Scientia
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Age: 50
Religion: Various Dragon/Htraknu Cults
Backstory: Hailing from an Asmeinlander noble family, Lucious Scientia can proudly trace his family lineage to a long line of proud noblemen and women who served the nation well. When his tutoring was complete around the age of 20 he was ready to inherit his lands. However, after ruling his lands for several years, he began to hear voices whispering dark secrets of the universe to him, of magic, rituals, and knowledge. All he had to do, the voices said, was serve Htraknu. He gladly did so, creating and serving in various cults dedicated to the "Future Dragon God"
Motivation: Power, knowledge, and gaining magic abilities. He also isn't out to hurt Htraknu but serve/work for him instead
Magic: None
Skills/Strengths: Smart, charismatic, good with a sword
Weaknesses: Pride and arrogance
Gear: Sword, dark magic books, two servants, various medicines
Other: Not at moment
Welcome aboard! Note that Htraknu's cult is the only notable dragon cult but other than that, you may post your app in the characters tab and I'll send you the link.
May I join this interesting RP?
Gotta make an app, buddy. Format and info are in the first post of the OOC
@TheLittleBell
I also reviewed the character sheet. I didn't find any nits to pick, it looks good. Furthermore, I find the concept of a dryad-like dragon to be an interesting one.
On another note, @BlondyMcHuggles, regarding your suggestion that the Infernum be renamed Annwyn, I had an idea. What if, the Infernum remains the home of the Shaituns, demons and the damned, but Annwyn is the Realm of Lost Souls? That is, where souls go when they've been "destroyed" and/or harvested of their power. Gods who are truly slain, mortals whose souls have been devoured (most often because they've sold it to a demon or something similar) and so on. I briefly considered having it be the home of the Flame, but we'd need @Luftwaffles to agree and I don't really think it fits what how I imagined Annwyn. I don't have much time to explain right now, but let's just say Annwyn would also be called "The Weeping Realm" and "The Land of the Lost". Do note that this is just a suggestion. Let me know what you think.
I also reviewed the character sheet. I didn't find any nits to pick, it looks good. Furthermore, I find the concept of a dryad-like dragon to be an interesting one.
On another note, @BlondyMcHuggles, regarding your suggestion that the Infernum be renamed Annwyn, I had an idea. What if, the Infernum remains the home of the Shaituns, demons and the damned, but Annwyn is the Realm of Lost Souls? That is, where souls go when they've been "destroyed" and/or harvested of their power. Gods who are truly slain, mortals whose souls have been devoured (most often because they've sold it to a demon or something similar) and so on. I briefly considered having it be the home of the Flame, but we'd need @Luftwaffles to agree and I don't really think it fits what how I imagined Annwyn. I don't have much time to explain right now, but let's just say Annwyn would also be called "The Weeping Realm" and "The Land of the Lost". Do note that this is just a suggestion. Let me know what you think.
Alright, you've already told me about your keyboard from Hell, so we'll ignore the spelling and grammar issues since those can be edited once you're in the pad. However, there are still a couple issues, which I'll sort into two categories.
Once we work out the issues, I'd be happy to accept you (especially since I invited you). Do keep in mind that we'll have to figure out a way for your character to meet the others though. Also, perhaps her skill with poisons comes from having to know how to cure them?
Is there a way to delete posts?
Testing, testing.
Not that I am aware of.
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