Just wondering, when you say the character can be from any universe, but must be original, you mean that we may create a character who comes from a certain movie/book/game universe, but may not be any of the existing characters from that universe?
Roughdragon1 Member
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The Crucible - a 'multiversal' tournament with your soul on the line
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8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Cool!
In
The Crucible - a 'multiversal' tournament with your soul on the line
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8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
This sounds really cool, mind if I join?
Sylvia kneeled on the cobblestones, trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t wound it, not enough to kill it at least. She felt its thick muscle and bone deflect her dagger like it was steel plate. She watched the ogre fall, its massive bulk crashing down from from its extensive wounds.
I really need a better knife. I don’t want to buy one from the city though, those smiths never sharpen them enough…
Among the piles of dead Skaven and Dwarves, she saw an irregularly shiny glint within. She reached in, and felt something metal. A ring. She held it in front of her face, a bronze-shaded circle which she slipped onto her index finger.
Suddenly, she felt more… fleet. Her heartbeat quickened, her eyes darted here and there, her hands twitched. Whatever the ring was, it seemed to slightly speed up her movements. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but it would help.
Also, among the corpse heap, she managed to scavenge a few gold coins. They would definitely fetch her something back home, maybe another dagger. She saw that the others were making their way into the Dwarven fortress, and she followed them in.
Her lust for blood was still going strong, despite her near-death experience with the rat ogre. If Grendrick hadn’t intervened, she would have been killed. Painfully. She made a mental note to thank him later, after they got out of the rift. If they got out of the rift. Even with Siph, a veteran adventurer, Sylvia knew the worst could happen to the best. In her experience, it usually did.
The interior of the Dwarven fort was quite beautiful. Shades of metal she never even knew existed shone before her eyes, and seemingly master-crafted statues and architecture made the whole place have sort of an uncomfortable feel to it, like she was a guest inside a rich man’s house. Everything inside seemed to be out of her reach, out of her understanding.
Now, however, she heard the sounds of battle: Screams, metal clashing upon metal, and since the Dwarves were here, loud crunches that could only be made by their warhammers. The Dwarf king, who was presumably the one clad in golden armor, rushed out in front of his men, caving in Skaven skulls as he went.
Sylvia checked her armor. The rings were broken in places, leaving wide exposed gaps where a stray blade could get through. She was faced with a choice: The chainmail was heavy, especially for someone of her size. If she ditched it, she could move much more freely, dodge attacks and whatnot. However, if she got hit by the Skaven, it would most likely be a mortal wound, if not a fatal blow. If she kept the armor, she could take another hit, but after that the armor would just be dead weight.
I swear, I am going to kill the man who made that chainmail shirt. If I didn't kill him already...
She sighed, and removed the chainmail, dropping it to the ground next to her. She could still feel the aching bruises from when that Skaven stabbed her earlier. She breathed short, quick breaths, trying to will the pain away. She drew her knife, blood from earlier Skaven crusting on the blade.
Come on, you vermin. I’ll draw your blood tenfold before you draw mine.
I really need a better knife. I don’t want to buy one from the city though, those smiths never sharpen them enough…
Among the piles of dead Skaven and Dwarves, she saw an irregularly shiny glint within. She reached in, and felt something metal. A ring. She held it in front of her face, a bronze-shaded circle which she slipped onto her index finger.
Suddenly, she felt more… fleet. Her heartbeat quickened, her eyes darted here and there, her hands twitched. Whatever the ring was, it seemed to slightly speed up her movements. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but it would help.
Also, among the corpse heap, she managed to scavenge a few gold coins. They would definitely fetch her something back home, maybe another dagger. She saw that the others were making their way into the Dwarven fortress, and she followed them in.
Her lust for blood was still going strong, despite her near-death experience with the rat ogre. If Grendrick hadn’t intervened, she would have been killed. Painfully. She made a mental note to thank him later, after they got out of the rift. If they got out of the rift. Even with Siph, a veteran adventurer, Sylvia knew the worst could happen to the best. In her experience, it usually did.
The interior of the Dwarven fort was quite beautiful. Shades of metal she never even knew existed shone before her eyes, and seemingly master-crafted statues and architecture made the whole place have sort of an uncomfortable feel to it, like she was a guest inside a rich man’s house. Everything inside seemed to be out of her reach, out of her understanding.
Now, however, she heard the sounds of battle: Screams, metal clashing upon metal, and since the Dwarves were here, loud crunches that could only be made by their warhammers. The Dwarf king, who was presumably the one clad in golden armor, rushed out in front of his men, caving in Skaven skulls as he went.
Sylvia checked her armor. The rings were broken in places, leaving wide exposed gaps where a stray blade could get through. She was faced with a choice: The chainmail was heavy, especially for someone of her size. If she ditched it, she could move much more freely, dodge attacks and whatnot. However, if she got hit by the Skaven, it would most likely be a mortal wound, if not a fatal blow. If she kept the armor, she could take another hit, but after that the armor would just be dead weight.
I swear, I am going to kill the man who made that chainmail shirt. If I didn't kill him already...
She sighed, and removed the chainmail, dropping it to the ground next to her. She could still feel the aching bruises from when that Skaven stabbed her earlier. She breathed short, quick breaths, trying to will the pain away. She drew her knife, blood from earlier Skaven crusting on the blade.
Come on, you vermin. I’ll draw your blood tenfold before you draw mine.
Sylvia was right behind the ogre, and she now realized how small she was compared to the muscle-ridden, berserker of a rat.
If that thing grabs me it’ll… she didn’t want to finish the thought. She saw how savage the normal Skaven were, from the Dwarf corpses on the ground. She didn’t want to imagine what the infinitely more barbaric ogre would do to a fragile human such as her.
She shook such thoughts from her head.
If I do this correctly, I won’t have to worry about such things.
She quickly scanned the ogre’s back, noting the several bumps that represented its spinal cord. If her knowledge was correct, the higher up the injury to the spine, the deadlier it was. She weighed her options. He couldn’t simply slash at the spine with her dagger; the bone was too thick, especially for a beast of this size. The blade would simply fail to cut into the bone. She had to jam her dagger deep into its spine, to sever the nerves within and paralyze it.
She took a deep breath. Such a simple thing as stabbing a lumbering, quarter-wit rat in the back was a difficult thing to, especially since the ogre was thrashing around due to Marianne’s insects and other such distractions. If she missed, which meant missing the spine and striking flesh, it would instantly alert the ogre and spell agonizing death for her. She knew she couldn’t dodge as fast or fight as well as the others: Her skill lay in her ability to conceal herself and strike when it was the most essential, to put all of her energy and calculation into a single, critical hit.
She raised her dagger, aimed for the gap between two vertebrae, and brought it down into the ogre’s back with all of her might, praying that her shot was true.
Edited again
Boom, edited.
“Gah!” Sylvia felt the rusty blades hit her in the gut, knocking her out of her transparency spell, but luckily the chainmail prevented the blades from going through. Still, it felt like being punched, hard. The rat was distracted, thinking it had cut her. She took the opportunity of its distraction to jam her dagger into its neck, and twisted it, ending the rat’s life. It fell to the ground, twitching.
She raised her shirt to get a look at the chainmail, which was nicked in two areas. Another hit like that, and the links would break. She looked over to her left, where Grendrick was tearing into an ogre’s legs, flesh and blood flying in all directions. Alongside it was some kind of spellcaster, a shaman. Marianne was already distracting it with her insects, so Sylvia activated her near-invisibility again, and began to sneak over to where the ogre was.
She kept to the edges of the fight, trying her best to avoid the stray rats which were still retreating. The ogre was massive, much larger than anything she had ever seen, a brute consisting of pure muscle and raw strength. With Grendrick going berserk on its legs, Sylvia tried to look for an opening, a weakness within its bulk.
Everything humanoid must share similar biology. If I could disable it with a well-aimed incision...
She was a good distance away from the rat ogre, far enough to avoid its blows or Grendrick's wild fury. She would have one chance to make this work; her compromised chainmail wouldn't protect her from another sword blow, much less a smack from an ogre.
Sylvia had her target: A series of slight bulges that ran up the ogre's back up to its head. The spine. If she could jab it with her dagger, it would most likely stop it in its tracks, if not cripple it indefinitely. Still, the target was narrow and a miss would only give the beast a flesh wound, and most likely give her several broken bones.
She raised her dagger; For the first time in a long while, she saw that her hand was shaking. Even if she could paralyze the ogre, they still had the shaman to deal with.
We'll deal with him later. That bloody ogre is the most immediate threat.
Sylvia took a deep breath, and ran towards the ogre, her dagger prepared to find its mark.
She raised her shirt to get a look at the chainmail, which was nicked in two areas. Another hit like that, and the links would break. She looked over to her left, where Grendrick was tearing into an ogre’s legs, flesh and blood flying in all directions. Alongside it was some kind of spellcaster, a shaman. Marianne was already distracting it with her insects, so Sylvia activated her near-invisibility again, and began to sneak over to where the ogre was.
She kept to the edges of the fight, trying her best to avoid the stray rats which were still retreating. The ogre was massive, much larger than anything she had ever seen, a brute consisting of pure muscle and raw strength. With Grendrick going berserk on its legs, Sylvia tried to look for an opening, a weakness within its bulk.
Everything humanoid must share similar biology. If I could disable it with a well-aimed incision...
She was a good distance away from the rat ogre, far enough to avoid its blows or Grendrick's wild fury. She would have one chance to make this work; her compromised chainmail wouldn't protect her from another sword blow, much less a smack from an ogre.
Sylvia had her target: A series of slight bulges that ran up the ogre's back up to its head. The spine. If she could jab it with her dagger, it would most likely stop it in its tracks, if not cripple it indefinitely. Still, the target was narrow and a miss would only give the beast a flesh wound, and most likely give her several broken bones.
She raised her dagger; For the first time in a long while, she saw that her hand was shaking. Even if she could paralyze the ogre, they still had the shaman to deal with.
We'll deal with him later. That bloody ogre is the most immediate threat.
Sylvia took a deep breath, and ran towards the ogre, her dagger prepared to find its mark.
Sylvia assessed the situation.
The Skaven swarmed the group, rushing past Grendrick and into the rest of them. For some reason, those dwarves were shooting at him with their crossbows. Idiots.
That orc was demolishing the Skaven that it could catch with his axe, blood and parts flying all around.
The Skaven were rushing towards the back, trying to escape the massacre. Marianne was swarming the rat-men with her insects, distracting and stinging them. Faria was dispatching Skaven to her right with her bow and arrow.
Given the current chaos, it was the perfect situation for someone like Sylvia. She recited an incantation which made her nearly translucent, allowing her to blend in with the nearby environment. She stalked forwards into the fray of the panicked Skaven, and as one of them raised their weapon to attack her, she quickly thrust her dagger through its hairy throat and twisted, killing the rat with relative ease.
Another one came from her left, rusty sword raised over its head. She yanked her dagger out, and sliced the rat’s sword arm, through its shoulder. The Skaven’s arm fell limp to its side, and Sylvia followed up by jabbing her dagger through its eye and kicking it to the ground, dead.
Thankfully, the Skaven were sloppy fighters, who didn’t care about technique nor finesse. Really, they seemed to utilize pure savagery, making them predictable.
She noticed another one sneaking up behind Nove, who was distracted by the Skaven in front of him. She ran forwards and grabbed the thing by its scruff, dragging it back. The Skaven wrenched out of her grip, turning to face her. It had two nasty-looking knives in its hands, both rusted and dripping with Dwarven blood.
Sylvia and the Skaven circled around, waiting for the other to make a move. These sorts of situations were dangerous, especially for her. Her chainmail wouldn’t protect much if she was stabbed, a drawback of the armor’s design. The Skaven licked its black lips, snarling. Rows of rotten teeth showed through its snout. Evidently, this one was more of a fighter than the others.
The Skaven swarmed the group, rushing past Grendrick and into the rest of them. For some reason, those dwarves were shooting at him with their crossbows. Idiots.
That orc was demolishing the Skaven that it could catch with his axe, blood and parts flying all around.
The Skaven were rushing towards the back, trying to escape the massacre. Marianne was swarming the rat-men with her insects, distracting and stinging them. Faria was dispatching Skaven to her right with her bow and arrow.
Given the current chaos, it was the perfect situation for someone like Sylvia. She recited an incantation which made her nearly translucent, allowing her to blend in with the nearby environment. She stalked forwards into the fray of the panicked Skaven, and as one of them raised their weapon to attack her, she quickly thrust her dagger through its hairy throat and twisted, killing the rat with relative ease.
Another one came from her left, rusty sword raised over its head. She yanked her dagger out, and sliced the rat’s sword arm, through its shoulder. The Skaven’s arm fell limp to its side, and Sylvia followed up by jabbing her dagger through its eye and kicking it to the ground, dead.
Thankfully, the Skaven were sloppy fighters, who didn’t care about technique nor finesse. Really, they seemed to utilize pure savagery, making them predictable.
She noticed another one sneaking up behind Nove, who was distracted by the Skaven in front of him. She ran forwards and grabbed the thing by its scruff, dragging it back. The Skaven wrenched out of her grip, turning to face her. It had two nasty-looking knives in its hands, both rusted and dripping with Dwarven blood.
Sylvia and the Skaven circled around, waiting for the other to make a move. These sorts of situations were dangerous, especially for her. Her chainmail wouldn’t protect much if she was stabbed, a drawback of the armor’s design. The Skaven licked its black lips, snarling. Rows of rotten teeth showed through its snout. Evidently, this one was more of a fighter than the others.
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