TentacleLord Member
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Eldritch Abomination
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 473 (0.12 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- TentacleLord 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Mystic Song
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Hmm. Too prevent this from having such a disparity between posts, I suggest we wait for Vincanity and anyone who hasn't posted yet. That way we can avoid loosing people who don't have as much free time, such as Bright_Ops.
The sudden counterattack had brought the pillaging bandits to a halt, some breaking and dashing back toward their own, while others instead darted away, choosing easier pickings than the suddenly violent mercenaries and local heroes.
The berserker, however, had other ideas. He was a brutal man, one renowned for his savage actions and bloodthirsty nature, often termed as a mad beast instead of human. He was most definitely not a smart man.
But even then, he'd attracted the king's favor, and the king's favor meant at least something.
With a roar, he charged into the fray, bellowing his orders to the hulking men that circled around him. His voice boomed over the din of battle, cutting through the hot air like a mighty horn. "All right, you scum! Go get some hostages, we can't have killed 'em all yet! That'll make sure these fiesty assholes don't come and fight back, yeah? Kill 'em, break 'em, mash 'em, boys! Everything is gonna BURN!"
About half of the attacking bandits diverted off, dashing away from the dangerous people with blade and tome as if their lives depended on it. Each of them hunted for a hapless villager, the bandit captain himself taking a young woman and her daughter, laughing maniacally at their tear-stained faces.
The berserker, however, had other ideas. He was a brutal man, one renowned for his savage actions and bloodthirsty nature, often termed as a mad beast instead of human. He was most definitely not a smart man.
But even then, he'd attracted the king's favor, and the king's favor meant at least something.
With a roar, he charged into the fray, bellowing his orders to the hulking men that circled around him. His voice boomed over the din of battle, cutting through the hot air like a mighty horn. "All right, you scum! Go get some hostages, we can't have killed 'em all yet! That'll make sure these fiesty assholes don't come and fight back, yeah? Kill 'em, break 'em, mash 'em, boys! Everything is gonna BURN!"
About half of the attacking bandits diverted off, dashing away from the dangerous people with blade and tome as if their lives depended on it. Each of them hunted for a hapless villager, the bandit captain himself taking a young woman and her daughter, laughing maniacally at their tear-stained faces.
Well, I'm about to add a reaction post for the bandits to make the fight a little more.... interesting. That way everybody gets to have a piece of the action.
Nerendier said
Well they'll have to get passed the hulking silver knight first. Not that they can't just, you know, go around him.
Who, hilariously enough, is bearing the standards and gear of a Vinsenian knight. You know, something that a certain Grandmaster has sworn his life to destroying.
MULTI_MEDIA_MAN said
.......HOLY CRAP THE CLERIC NEVER MADE A CS. Holy. Crap. Well, we're all boned. GG, no re.
Speaking of which, Faris still has an injured arm that she should be feeling any second now. This should be fun.
StarInaBox said
.3. Oh boy. Arianna gets to go against Mages.
I certainly hope not. Duraid ordered her off the front lines for a reason.
Duraid had been fairly happy with how the day was turning out. The sun had been shining, the mercenary band had gained more new recruits than any of the previous days combined, and his daughter had fallen to a simple feint rather than the thirty-minute blade dance that he'd come to expect from his estranged kin. It was a good day, all in all.
Then, just as the cool night breeze came with the darkness of nightfall, the first scream and thud of battle began.
Of course it did. Why wouldn't it?
Duraid's bitter thoughts continued as he confirmed what he could hear and smell, relying on his years of battle to look for familiar signs that would certainly tell of the attacking party, if only in passing.
The first thing that came to his attention was the lack of coherent war-cries, only the bellows of battle-lust and the screams of the felled.
His face darkened, already assuming the worst.
The next warning came in the swiftly rising heat and the crackling sound of burning wood, along with the now brightly burning line in the town proper.
With the lack of standards and the crunch of marching feet, that could only leave one perpatrator.
The scum of the mountains. Bandits.
The behemoth of a man's teeth ground against one another, a despicable sound to show Duraid's hatred for the sudden termination of his rather peaceful day. Anger flicked in his pale green eyes, sunken with age and years of stress. He hauled himself around, stomping toward the training ground proper as he bellowed his first orders to the newest recruits.
"All right then! Looks like you all get to earn your keep rather soon!" His head snapped toward Arianna, eyes gleaming as if daring the inexperienced fighter to disobey. "You! Get your ass in the back lines with the mages, and help the townsfolk get to cover! Only fight if ya have too!" Turning again, he spat out his next orders to the rest of the men, not bothering to look at each in turn. "The rest of you! Get your weapons, get your armor, and then go kill some bandits! I want every single one of them killed! They will not return to the dirty holes that they crawled from!"
His next order was yelled, a mighty shout to the camp at large. "Mercenaries! Come and earn your keep! Slaughter the enemy at the gate, and make sure they don't return! Take! No! Prisoners!"
For Faris, who'd just had the pleasure of dealing with the one man who could take a joke less than even Manus, giggled with manic delight at Kristoph's sudden and abrupt retreat. It was, for better or worse, exactly what she needed after dealing with the so-called 'heroics' of the crazy potato-man, and his ensuing, self-insulting reaction. She hadn't even the pleasure of taking him down a peg herself.
After making a mental note to talk to Barst about the strange pegasi lover, the mercenary set off into the camp proper, making for the campfire and the more social hub of the encampment. She'd made it within speaking range of the strangely affectionate and encouraging archer and the rather wimpy dark mage before the sounds of battle and the resulting explosions reached her ears.
Faris' face froze in a glassy expression that was halfway between joy and surprise, almost as if the promise of bloodshed and battle was a delightful gift she'd received for her rather unexpected birthday. She turned on her heel, throwing her weight around in a stride that took her halfway back toward the rack of weapons that held her actual blade and simple armor.
The mercenary's speed was rewarded as she bounded back toward the campfire, sliding to a halt in front of Barst and Ereshk no less than fifteen seconds after she had left. Her green eyes were bright as she began to chide the two for being slower than her.
"Come on, you two, let's go already! The bandit's aren't gonna kill themselves!"
For her father, the only similarity in preparation for the upcoming battle was the swiftness in which he was ready.
Duraid had gone very quiet after he issued his last order, instead glowering angrily as he stomped into his own tent.
His armor was already arrayed on a wooden stand in the dead center of the cloth home, a dark metal that only reflected the light along the numerous scratches that adorned the heavy collar and brutally shaped gauntlets. Even the helmet was of a rough make, a sphere of what seemed to be only three pieces in total. The face-plate was adorned with a flurry of holes, seemingly punched at random.
With practiced ease, Duraid hauled on his protection, grasping his trusted steel axe before finally lowering the helmet onto his bald head.
The sudden change was disturbing in its execution.
The only expression on the full-facial visor was one of alien horror, the multitude of holes seemingly radiating an impenetrable blackness. Only the flickering flash of the firelight on teeth or the rare glint of hardened eyes gave any hint that the hulking warrior was even human, and not some horrible creature that dragged itself out of a children's nightmare. Even the hissing intakes of breath were muted, causing the once loud man to be unnaturally silent in even his most basic action.
In a flurry of movement that should have been acompanied by a clanking of steel or the heavy thud of boots, the iron encased giant slid forward out of the training grounds, moving with terrifying purpose toward the sounds of fighting. Only the slick whistling of the now heat-riddled wind against the impeccably sharp edge of the warrior's great axe drew notice above the sounds of crackling flame and clashing steel, drawing ever closer toward the heart of the battle that was brought suddenly and swiftly to the seemingly undefended town of Charten.
Then, just as the cool night breeze came with the darkness of nightfall, the first scream and thud of battle began.
Of course it did. Why wouldn't it?
Duraid's bitter thoughts continued as he confirmed what he could hear and smell, relying on his years of battle to look for familiar signs that would certainly tell of the attacking party, if only in passing.
The first thing that came to his attention was the lack of coherent war-cries, only the bellows of battle-lust and the screams of the felled.
His face darkened, already assuming the worst.
The next warning came in the swiftly rising heat and the crackling sound of burning wood, along with the now brightly burning line in the town proper.
With the lack of standards and the crunch of marching feet, that could only leave one perpatrator.
The scum of the mountains. Bandits.
The behemoth of a man's teeth ground against one another, a despicable sound to show Duraid's hatred for the sudden termination of his rather peaceful day. Anger flicked in his pale green eyes, sunken with age and years of stress. He hauled himself around, stomping toward the training ground proper as he bellowed his first orders to the newest recruits.
"All right then! Looks like you all get to earn your keep rather soon!" His head snapped toward Arianna, eyes gleaming as if daring the inexperienced fighter to disobey. "You! Get your ass in the back lines with the mages, and help the townsfolk get to cover! Only fight if ya have too!" Turning again, he spat out his next orders to the rest of the men, not bothering to look at each in turn. "The rest of you! Get your weapons, get your armor, and then go kill some bandits! I want every single one of them killed! They will not return to the dirty holes that they crawled from!"
His next order was yelled, a mighty shout to the camp at large. "Mercenaries! Come and earn your keep! Slaughter the enemy at the gate, and make sure they don't return! Take! No! Prisoners!"
For Faris, who'd just had the pleasure of dealing with the one man who could take a joke less than even Manus, giggled with manic delight at Kristoph's sudden and abrupt retreat. It was, for better or worse, exactly what she needed after dealing with the so-called 'heroics' of the crazy potato-man, and his ensuing, self-insulting reaction. She hadn't even the pleasure of taking him down a peg herself.
After making a mental note to talk to Barst about the strange pegasi lover, the mercenary set off into the camp proper, making for the campfire and the more social hub of the encampment. She'd made it within speaking range of the strangely affectionate and encouraging archer and the rather wimpy dark mage before the sounds of battle and the resulting explosions reached her ears.
Faris' face froze in a glassy expression that was halfway between joy and surprise, almost as if the promise of bloodshed and battle was a delightful gift she'd received for her rather unexpected birthday. She turned on her heel, throwing her weight around in a stride that took her halfway back toward the rack of weapons that held her actual blade and simple armor.
The mercenary's speed was rewarded as she bounded back toward the campfire, sliding to a halt in front of Barst and Ereshk no less than fifteen seconds after she had left. Her green eyes were bright as she began to chide the two for being slower than her.
"Come on, you two, let's go already! The bandit's aren't gonna kill themselves!"
For her father, the only similarity in preparation for the upcoming battle was the swiftness in which he was ready.
Duraid had gone very quiet after he issued his last order, instead glowering angrily as he stomped into his own tent.
His armor was already arrayed on a wooden stand in the dead center of the cloth home, a dark metal that only reflected the light along the numerous scratches that adorned the heavy collar and brutally shaped gauntlets. Even the helmet was of a rough make, a sphere of what seemed to be only three pieces in total. The face-plate was adorned with a flurry of holes, seemingly punched at random.
With practiced ease, Duraid hauled on his protection, grasping his trusted steel axe before finally lowering the helmet onto his bald head.
The sudden change was disturbing in its execution.
The only expression on the full-facial visor was one of alien horror, the multitude of holes seemingly radiating an impenetrable blackness. Only the flickering flash of the firelight on teeth or the rare glint of hardened eyes gave any hint that the hulking warrior was even human, and not some horrible creature that dragged itself out of a children's nightmare. Even the hissing intakes of breath were muted, causing the once loud man to be unnaturally silent in even his most basic action.
In a flurry of movement that should have been acompanied by a clanking of steel or the heavy thud of boots, the iron encased giant slid forward out of the training grounds, moving with terrifying purpose toward the sounds of fighting. Only the slick whistling of the now heat-riddled wind against the impeccably sharp edge of the warrior's great axe drew notice above the sounds of crackling flame and clashing steel, drawing ever closer toward the heart of the battle that was brought suddenly and swiftly to the seemingly undefended town of Charten.
Double said
Did she just imply what I think she implied? Oi, that's not gonna give Kristoph a very positive first impression of the mercs. Oh well, damage done, time to roll with it.
Classy is one of the things Faris is not.
Duraid's face darkened as he heard the report, glaring solemnly in the direction of the looming mountains of the Vale. "This is unfortunate. We may spend less time here than I thought."
His head snapped toward the masked Branded, barking out his next order with none of the scarce warmth he'd be using in his inquiries beforehand. "Go let the rest of the band know that we'll need to move at a moment's notice."
"Now then, you lot. I'm Duraid, leader of this here mercenary band. You can call me Captain, Boss, or whatever floats your boat." He gestured toward the line of potential hires, noting the exchange between the would-be baron and the apple thief. "As long as you can do something, I won't turn ya away. However, if ya help with the fightin', you'll get more gold."
The warrior stalked up to the collection of newly accquired assets, staring directly at each one's face in turn as he paced down the line. "A few ground rules if you're gonna work with my crew. One:-" His slowly burning eyes locked on Nialas'. "-the crew's lives are more important than the take. That means-" Duraid's head snapped around to look Helath up and down. "-we don't take jobs that end with us dead. Money's no good to corpses. Two:-" His glare shifted to Laisar. "-We don't get paid extra for heroics. You go try and rescue someone, and end getting some of your fellow mercs killed? I'll bring justice down myself. Three:-" Sammael was next, the archer's face being scrutinized for any sign of emotion. "-Running is acceptable, but you forfeit your take. Four:-" Onto the Rak'thurrian, Duraid's stare measuring what sort of man stood before him. "You can leave the group at any time, but if you desert to the enemy side, you become an enemy and will be treated as such. Finally:-" He reached the end of the line, staring down at Arianna. "-There'll be no infighting because of nationality or race. I'll make sure of that. We're all people here, let's act like it."
The man's posture finally relaxed as he turned away once more, moving to the edge of the arena as he called out behind him, his words returning to their carefully friendly state. "If you've still got questions, follow me. If not, go follow Faris and help out the dark mage with his shopping. Poor bastard needs to get some upper body strength."
Faris had taken the time to begin to sneak off toward the camp proper, stalking away from the large group of men and the single woman. Even Manus' constant blathering about things like 'angles' and 'theories' was better than listening to her father go on about the duties of a mercenary. She'd heard it before, and would no doubt hear it again.
Shrugging, she had nearly made it into the camp proper when some hooded figure accosted her for information about Barst's pegasus. The mercenary's proceeding look of disgust was only matched by her annoyed tone. "Ah, yeah, you're one of those creepy guys who like the idea of a cute pegasus? I don't think Barst'd be too into that, but I can get him for ya." Her eyes glimmered greedily. "If ya pay the right price, I mean."
His head snapped toward the masked Branded, barking out his next order with none of the scarce warmth he'd be using in his inquiries beforehand. "Go let the rest of the band know that we'll need to move at a moment's notice."
"Now then, you lot. I'm Duraid, leader of this here mercenary band. You can call me Captain, Boss, or whatever floats your boat." He gestured toward the line of potential hires, noting the exchange between the would-be baron and the apple thief. "As long as you can do something, I won't turn ya away. However, if ya help with the fightin', you'll get more gold."
The warrior stalked up to the collection of newly accquired assets, staring directly at each one's face in turn as he paced down the line. "A few ground rules if you're gonna work with my crew. One:-" His slowly burning eyes locked on Nialas'. "-the crew's lives are more important than the take. That means-" Duraid's head snapped around to look Helath up and down. "-we don't take jobs that end with us dead. Money's no good to corpses. Two:-" His glare shifted to Laisar. "-We don't get paid extra for heroics. You go try and rescue someone, and end getting some of your fellow mercs killed? I'll bring justice down myself. Three:-" Sammael was next, the archer's face being scrutinized for any sign of emotion. "-Running is acceptable, but you forfeit your take. Four:-" Onto the Rak'thurrian, Duraid's stare measuring what sort of man stood before him. "You can leave the group at any time, but if you desert to the enemy side, you become an enemy and will be treated as such. Finally:-" He reached the end of the line, staring down at Arianna. "-There'll be no infighting because of nationality or race. I'll make sure of that. We're all people here, let's act like it."
The man's posture finally relaxed as he turned away once more, moving to the edge of the arena as he called out behind him, his words returning to their carefully friendly state. "If you've still got questions, follow me. If not, go follow Faris and help out the dark mage with his shopping. Poor bastard needs to get some upper body strength."
Faris had taken the time to begin to sneak off toward the camp proper, stalking away from the large group of men and the single woman. Even Manus' constant blathering about things like 'angles' and 'theories' was better than listening to her father go on about the duties of a mercenary. She'd heard it before, and would no doubt hear it again.
Shrugging, she had nearly made it into the camp proper when some hooded figure accosted her for information about Barst's pegasus. The mercenary's proceeding look of disgust was only matched by her annoyed tone. "Ah, yeah, you're one of those creepy guys who like the idea of a cute pegasus? I don't think Barst'd be too into that, but I can get him for ya." Her eyes glimmered greedily. "If ya pay the right price, I mean."
StarInaBox said
Mister Tentacle, was Duraid addressing Arianna as the "snidely-commenting woman?"
This is correct
© 2007-2024