RisenDead

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

The fire was bright, the smell of cooking thick in her nostrils, the sheets of the bed rough but cozy against her skin as she squirmed deeper into them with a sigh of contentment. The pillow was so soft, her blonde hair fanned out across, gleaming in the firelight. It was perfect. She rolled over and found herself staring at the back of a mans head, not something she was unused to but she frowned, why was he in her bed, had she invited him? She gave him a nudge and he grunted.

"Get up lazybones, it's past daylight, my mum will be right angry if she finds you here." Tavian was annoyed that she even had to tell him. Normally she never allowed a man to sleep over, her mother was insistent she not make a display of herself to her younger sisters.

The man shifted and rolled over and she found herself staring into the face of Captain Dawnbridge, or what is it him? The face looked the same but the eyes looked dead, empty of life, and she was suddenly aware that the bedsheets were stained red. She recoiled in horror as his mouth moved but no sound came out, only a gurgle. She screamed and tried to roll out of the bed but she became entangled in the sheets as they pulled away from the Captain and she could see now that his throat was gone, nothing but a bloody hole.

She tried to scream but no sound came as he pawed angrily towards her, grasping at her face. She kicked frantically to escape the bedsheets, managing to put her upper body beyond his reach, her naked breasts covered in blood that seemed to be everywhere now. Then he had her ankle and before she could kick it free he bit down and pain lanced up her calf. She opened her mouth to scream for help.

Tavian sat upright in the cold sweat, smacking her head on the low roof of the attic and giving a low moan in protest. Her ankle, which had only seconds before been in Captain Dawnbridges mouth, was jammed at a weird angle against the roof beams and she whimpered as she pulled it free. The bed, the fire, the warmth, it was all gone. She was still clad in her armour, her leggings damp and her boots squishy and it took a moment to remember the bowel loosening terror of the undead attack. She ached everywhere, never had she been in so much pain in her life. She wanted to scream out her frustration, but knowing that was unwise, she punched the roof instead. It was an equally unwise idea and she regretted it at once as pain shot down her arm. At least she still had her greaves on.

For a long moment she lay there nursing her hand and ankle, wondering what to do next, when she heard the sudden thud of something move below the house. She cautiously shifted her weight, using her fingers to pry a hole in the thatch roof so that she could see outside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the seedily bright moonlight. Nothing moved in her line of sight. She could hear nothing, see nothing, it was almost as if the attack had been a bad dream. But then she realized that the dark shapes on the ground were not bushes, they were bodies, hundreds of them, splayed out as far as she could see. She felt her stomach tighten and the urge to throw up assailed her.

Another thud from almost directly beneath her made her swallow her rising bile and then, the sound of water being splashed, and then the sound of something she knew only to well and it made her heart pound with relief. The sound of a horse drinking water, the deep gulps of a desperate and panicked animal. If the horse was there, the undead were gone, and if she could catch it, she could escape.

Frantically she began to crawl down the length of the attic, hissing in pain every time she put pressure on her ankle, but she had to admit it did not hurt as much as it had however long ago it had been when she made her way up into the attic. As the trap door loomed up before her she didn't even think to check the space, she just grabbed the edge and swung her legs down into the darkness, held it for a moment then dropped to the ground.

Pain shot up her leg but it was bearable now and with a brief curse, and a small whimper, she went for the stairs. The door was still closed as she had left it and it took all her will power to not simply rip it open without checking. She cracked it slowly, glancing in every direction all at once so that her head spun. Nothing moved.

She hobbled out of the door, stumbling over corpses as she went, pausing only to pick up a sword and shield as she went. The sword was to big for her and the shield far heavier than her usual one but it didn't matter now, something was better than nothing. The sword she forced into her belt over her bloodied tabard and the shield she slung on her back as she came around the side of the house, and walked right into the horse coming the other way.

It was hard to say who was more surprised but Tavian recovered first, seizing hold of the trailing reins. The horse whinnied and jerked backwards, dragging her forwards so that she put all her weight onto her bad ankle. She stumbled and nearly let go, only managing to hold on with a supreme force of will. Thankfully it seemed the horse was just as tired as she, it shuddered to a halt after a few paces and then stared at her.

Two pairs of frightened eyes looked at each across the night blackened grass, Tavians breathing heavy in her own ears as the horse stretched out its nose towards her and gave her a heavy sniff. It's ears flared back but she spoke quickly.

"Easy boy. I mean you no harm. I just need a ride out of here."

The sound of a human voice seemed to have a calming effect on the horse and it snorted, pawing the ground for a moment, its ears swivelling all around it, listening, possibly knowing where the undead were and how far away. Tavian slowly climbed to her feet and reached out a hand to pat the horses neck. It resisted for a moment and then seemed to melt into her in its own approximation of her relief. The empty saddle on its back was bloodied but no clue as to who its rider might have been remained.

Tavian tested the strength of the saddle and then, in one practiced movement, she swung herself into the saddle. It felt good to be in one again, she hadn't ridden since leaving the farm. She shield banged against her back as she adjusted the stirrups, whoever had been on this horse before her had certainly been taller than her. The horse waited patiently, munching at the grass nearly invisible in the shadow of the house she had hidden in.

Settled at last she turned the horses head in the direction she had seen the survivors fleeing. There was a chance she might run into the undead but to ride back in the direction from which they had come was to invite certain death. She gave her knees a squeeze the horse broke into a trot. She didn't know where to go, but anywhere was better than the dead village of Brittlepond.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

Changes made and post up.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

“FOR KING TERENAS! FOR LORDAERON!”

The cry seemed to echo in Tavian's helm as she surged forward with the rest of the town guard. At that very moment Tavian had never been more terrified in all her life. She forced her feet to move, her shield raised as she had been taught, her sword ready. The onrushing undead, a tame name for the disgusting and bowl loosening swarm that hurried towards her, appeared like some unending carpet of moving blackness.

The guards moved forward purposefully, shield to shield, as they had been taught. The empty street giving them the time and space they needed to prepare. It was just like training, if you ignored the onrushing horde and the fact that they all clutched steel weapons rather than wooden training staves.

"Braces yourselves!!" Captain Dawnbridge, a handsome man to whom she had given some attention an evening or two ago, gave the order and she slid her right leg back, left shoulder bracing against her shield. She could barely see the creatures that poured from the wood through her visor, it was so narrow. She could hear heavy breathing on either side of her, the muttered prayers, the curses, and a sudden sharp smell told her someone had pissed themselves.

The ghouls were close now, close enough to pick out individuals and Tavian felt her own bladder release at the sight, the urine running down her leg and pooling in her boots. She was scared and at the moment wanted nothing more than to be at home with her sisters, shovelling cow shit and playing with kittens. But it was to late now.

The ghouls hit the line of guardsman with complete disregard for injury and the line shook, but held. Tavern screamed her war cry, it sounded like the scream of a child to her own ears, and hacked at the nearest ghoul. She was not nearly as strong as her male comrades but she was fast and had excellent sense of technique, or so her instructor had told her.

To her surprise the ghoul crumpled under her blow, its head split open, and slid to the ground. She didn't have time to think though as a second one lunged for her. She slammed her shield forward, the heavy front smashing into the ghouls face and sending it back a pace, then its head rolled as she slashed her sword with a quick sweep of her arm. She could do this! She felt a surge of elation as she killed a third ghoul with a savage blow to the head.

“This is pointless!” Came a pathetic cry from her left and in an instant the man who should have been protecting her side had thrown down his sword and fled. The hole that he had left in the line was filled immediately by a slavering ghoul. Tavian killed it with a lightning fast chop to the neck but another bounded at her before they could close up the line. She aimed a blow at the ghoul but it leapt past her without hesitation and threw itself onto Captain Dawnbridge. He gave an awful scream and then blood burst from his lips. Their eyes made contact for a brief second and then the ghoul dragged him down.

In that instant Tavain was hit between the shoulder blades by something soft and squishy and she went down in a tangle of sword, shield and armour. Whatever was on top of her didn't move and some instinct told her to lay perfectly still as ghouls continued to rush past her, overwhelming the few guardsmen who were trying to retreat up the street. Her breathing sounded harsh inside her helmet and she had to force back a gagging sob, fighting with all her self-preservation to remain still.

How long she lay there she could not say. The sounds of battle raged on, far longer than she had expected. Her neck hurt from the angle she lay at, her leg was twisted awkwardly beneath whatever was on top of her and she was intensely aware of the smell of her own sweat and urine as it mixed with smell of the dead all around her. She could hear what sounded like explosions, a Mage perhaps, somewhere in the town, putting up a last desperate fight. She wanted so badly to move but dared not for the time being. But when would the time be right? It wasn't like the ghouls would go to bed or anything. Just as she made up her mind to move, something began to move through the pile of corpses around her and froze.

“I WILL BREAK YOUR BONES, LITTLE MORSELS!!!

She had no idea what sort of creature was nearby but that voice alone was enough to convince her that moving was unwise. She shut her eyes and prayed, she could hear more ghouls coming closer, shuffling through the bodies of her fallen comrades. A sudden purple flash, the smell of burnt meat, and the roar of whatever was nearby almost made her cry out and she bit down on her tongue to keep herself from doing so. She could taste blood suddenly. She had bitten down to hard.

Moments later a brilliant flash and intense heat washed over her and the stink of burnt flesh became almost impossibly strong as something exploded, splattering charred meat everywhere. A heavy crash told her that whatever had been hit was down. She couldn't hear any more ghouls. It was now or never.

She slid her arms beneath her shoulders and heaved her body upwards. A dead ghoul tumbled off her back and she lurched to her feet. A surprised ghoul, half pinned under the burnt pile of meat that once been some fleshy creature, tried to reach out to her but she stumbled out of its reach. Her right ankle was on fire and she whimpered as she put weight on it. A glance down the streets showed what looked like survivors moving backward, cutting their way through the undead mass. For the moment she was important to the undead.

Any fool could see she was about to be left alone in the town and that did not sit well with her. She hobbled across the dead, shouldered open the door of a nearby house and tumbled inside. Pushing the door shut with her good foot and glancing around the room. It was empty. A staircase climbed up one wall and she hobbled painfully up it, finding herself in a bedroom with a low ceiling. A trapdoor, presumably to an attic was above her, a ladder dangling from it. She managed to climb it, one foot at a time, and found herself in a small, long space that stretched over the house. She pushed the ladder down, it clattered to the floor and lay still. She closed the trapdoor and dragged herself as far down the attic as she could, until she was pushed up against the stone chimney.

There, alone in the darkness, no sword, shield, or helmet, covered in her own urine and someone else's blood, she began to cry softly.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

Will this do?

Tavian

Name: Tavain
Race: Human
Age: 21

Description: Tavian is an attractive blonde haired, blue eyed, farm girl. When she joined the 33rd Regiment as a Footman she brought a good natured laugh, friendly smile, and the muscles of a woman who had worked everyday outside. Since that time she has learned sword combat, and shows much promise, though she has never seen battle. She bears two scars, one on her right hip where a horse kicked her, and a second on her left bicep from a bear that she fought, some say with her bare hands.

Personality: Friendly, chatty, outgoing, and throughly delighted to be doing something other that farming. Tavian is a pleasant young woman with no real ambition at the moment other than to get as far away from the farm as possible. She has a quick laugh and wants nothing more than to test her mettle in battle, her uncle was a Footman in the Legion after all, and he had fought the Horde many years before and Tavian has always looked up to him in awe. Her mother wanted her to go for a Priest but she wanted to badly to fight.

The local Priest, on her mothers wishes, did speak with her and noted that Tavian showed some ability towards magic but clearly had little desire to do good with it. Her mother dropped the subject. She still finds time for a beer with the lads, cards, and avoiding their drunken advances, but only if they unwanted. She is what one might call a "good person".

Background: Born in the great Human City of Kul'Tiras, her family has farmed the lands around it for a generation. Her father, a simple man, her mother determined to do well by her children, had hoped to have her train as a priest. She has thirteen female siblings, all of whom live in Kul'Tiras still, she is the second eldest. When she was sixteen she told her mother she wanted to go for a soldier and despite her protests, and a visit to a local Priest, she insisted on joining the army. Out of desperation her mother pleaded with the Garrison Commander, who relented to the old womans wishes, and told Tavian she would not be accepted. Undaunted, and enraged with her mother, she sailed for Lordaeron. Once in the great city she enlisted in the 33rd Regiment of Foot and was assigned Brittlepond immediately following the completion of her training.

The Fall of Lordaeron [Warcraft RP]

Got room for another?

Boots on the Ground - A Sci Fi Military RP

Disregard.

Fabula Elysia - Medieval Fantasy Nationgame

I'll put out another post soon as someone else does, double posting looks silly. Maybe I'll start a war with one of my absent PC neighbours as was suggested.

Fabula Elysia - Medieval Fantasy Nationgame

Haha, make it a good one!

A Gilded Throne- The Shadow Looms (Recruiting)

I am also interested. Is the land claim map up to date?

Fabula Elysia - Medieval Fantasy Nationgame

Grand Caravel CYNEBURG

"Kraken!" The scream from the mainmast brought instant silence to those men who went about the ships daily routine, every head craning upwards as if they could see the lookout through the mass of sails.

"Kraken to larboard! Coming straight for us!"

In an instant Heinrich von Hohenlohe, CYNEBURG's Sailing Master, had leapt to the ships bell and began ringing it for all he was worth. Men looked at him for a second, their faces frozen in a mixture of fear, excitement, and trepidation, and then the deck exploded like an ants hill when you pour boiling water onto it.

Hohenlohe grabbed a nearby midshipman. "Ring it for it for all you're worth Hanz."

The young lad nodded and continued ringing the bell even as Hohenlohe crossed to the larboard side in three quick steps, eye straining to see the distant Kraken. A fine day for such a fight to be sure. He thought and found himself grinning. Not our first multi limbed enemy and certainly not the last.

The sound of gunports crashing open drew his attention away from the sea for a moment and he nodded in approval as the gun crews loaded their weapons with practiced speed and efficiency. Cost me some coin from my own pocket for the extra powder but it was worth every copper when I see them in action. Pity the Grand Elector cannot see past the end of his own coin purse some times...

The Kraken was visible now and Hohenlohe gave a quiet sigh of relief. It was only a small one, maybe sixty feet. Only the very young, or the largest of them all, would attack a Grand Caravel. The ships were vast and capable of ferocious amount of damage. Rarely did the young ones who attacked such a ship live to become elder Kraken. His crew was preparing for the worst as they had been taught. Every gun was run out, every crossbow loaded, and pikes prepared to stab into the tentacles of the beast as it tried to wrap itself around the ship. He noted that a crate of Granads had been brought up, fearsome little iron balls that, when their fuse reached their centre, would explode and send shrapnel in all directions. A couple of those thrown into the mouth of a Kraken would put an end to most of them.

"Steady lads!" A Gun Captain called out. The faces of the men around him were intent on their task, only a few glancing towards the approaching creature, the very top of its head travelling perhaps a foot below the surface.

"Number one battery, stand by!" Hohenlohe called out. He noted the disappointed look of the other gun crews. It was a well known fact that he would doll out an extra ration of wine or rum to anyone who delivered the killing blow to a beast like the Kraken. Number One battery meanwhile had begun to spin their slow matches, the powder sparking and burning, waiting to be touched to the vent.

"On you're own time, make them count, fire!"

The word was barely out of his mouth when Number Three gun fired. Always first, and always a bit high. He thought as the roundshot skipped across the water several metres behind the on-rushing animal, the other gun crews jeering the miss in friendly competition. Number five gun will fire next, should be close or a direct hit. The Kraken was plainly visible now, a pair of its tentacles rising above water to strike. To soon. It was almost a hundred yards away.

Number Five gun fired. At first everyone thought it had missed but then a cheer went up as one of the tentacles ripped free in a shower of blood that turned the water pink. The Kraken had slowed, it was not used to pain, and this was not something it would have counted on. You're as good as dead ole boy. Shouldn't have come at us in the first place, and certainly shouldn't have slowed down. Hohenlohe smiled grimly, he did't enjoy killing sea beasts but the Kraken were becoming a serious problem in recent years.

A roaring crash announced the firing of Number One gun. It did not miss. The roundshot slammed into the Krakens partially exposed head and a great mist of blood filled the air around the confused creature. In a rage it lifted itself from the water to charge the CYNEBURG. Two more culverins roared, the only two left in the battery that had not yet fired.

Hohenlohe did not watch their strikes. He turned away towards the quarterdeck, unwilling to watch the confused creature die as it gave a horrible piercing shriek and began to convulse violently in the sea, staining the water around it red. Within minutes sharks would arrive and it would be torn to pieces.

"Close up guns! All hands to stations." Hohenlohe called. Time to catch up to the convoy. I should be able to retire after a few more runs like this. Number One Battery began to reload and the gunports were pulled closed, the sailors hurrying back to their usual stations. Just another day on the trade routes.