Avatar of Unraveller

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Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Fire Emblem. But STILL on a forum.
5 yrs ago
Fire Emblem. BUT ON A FORUM!
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7 yrs ago
Roleplaying is the only thing that gives meaning to my mediocre existence. And cookies too.
6 likes
8 yrs ago
Wants to be a saikyou hero.
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Bio


I am a rather middling RPer who likes to believe they are actually at an advanced level. This is of course, nonsense created by my desire to be known as good at something. In otherwords, I'm kinda okay at things and stuff.

Most Recent Posts

YEEK PHASE







From every which way now that gibbering coalesces into a single entity as the blue devils begin to pour out from every nook and cranny amidst the ruins. They dance with spear, bow, and claw toward the arrivals of humans who scheme and dart from tree to tree with their own fangs of bronze and iron, to the humble Yeek, sacrifices to Zuug'Agblish, ironically unaware of the meaning of their own deity.

As the caribou horn bleats it's reverberating call, the shaman hops and skips up those block steps far too large for its diminutive stature and heaves its body against the crumbling doors of the complex. They grind slowly open, as yet more little blue figures squeak across the sandstone by their rubbery pad-feet.

One is even so bold as to raise their wooden spear by way of the mounted camel rider, a man with a sharp pointy stick of their own, one that gleams in the high morn' sun.







YEEK WARRIOR II ATTACKS ZARIF WITH ITS GNARLED SPEAR FOR 6 DAMAGE
HIT RATE - 68% (34)

ZARIF COUNTERATTACKSx2 YEEK WARRIOR IIWITH HIS BRONZE SHORT SPEAR FOR 18 DAMAGE, KILLING THE YEEK.
HIT RATE - 91%x2 (57/41)
Zarif gains 21 Experience!









HELLIONS PHASE



Ashür: The bandit watches his companions to the north engage the blue monsters at last, cruelly or perhaps dismally, picturing their demise only to be pleasantly surprised at their competence. . . As always. Regardless, he uses his band's ever present ability to cause a commotion to sweep around the side of one of the Yeeks' sand brick walls, poising himself to back up Lyun's undoubtedly devastating charge.

Ashür moves SIX tiles to 17-28, to back up Lyun.


YEEK PHASE








OBJECTIVES

-- ROUT THE ENEMY --
-- DESCEND INTO THE ZIGGURAT --
-- DO NOT ALLOW KASTILUS TO FALL --



FOES







Zarif and Etor dart off upon the majestic and powerful Salador as the rest of the party disperse from the clearing thicket, albeit with the lacking leadership of the loose-knit band. No honeyed words or best laid plans it seemed ever quite came to fruition for the Hellions as they were, lest, not without their commander. Regardless, the dust kicked up by the camel's hooves was more than enough to signal the mournful Yeeks, whose droning chants and cries slowly came to a silence.

Not long after a collective gibbering, a bark, a call, several oily feet smack against the packed dry soil, scrambling for a better position. The 'warriors' if you can call them so much as that dart from sand block staircase leading up to the great timeworn doors of the ziggurat proper, all to protect their shaman, their Ensi. A pair climb high upon their makeshift towers, hoping that their beady eyes could catch a glimpse of their foe. But little more than a fog of grit hands low in the air, and the cursed beasts see no more than Etor and Zarif riding their way. It matters not, any human is an enemy to the Yeeks. And much like nesting hornets, any enemy must be met with the full force of the tribe. The little blue gremlin upon the eastern tower blows a caribou bone horn with a high pitched squeal. . .



Gesties: "Damn! Damn . . ! Damn those little shits!!" A hunter garbed in shredded purples slams his cracked fists at the cell door from which he's entrapped, unable to make even the slightest headway. "Argh! Locked away with all this treasure, isn't that rich? Hehehe."



HELLIONS PHASE


Ashür: The bandit scoffs to himself, at the very first INTEGRAL moves, that damnable merchant dashes their strategy to the dust, snatching the boy up and riding ahead. Still, he can't possbibly deny the benefit of their smoke screen, nor their element of surprise. And with that, he dashes into the small treeline beyond a ruined cottage, aiming to dive right between the Yeek's crumbling walls. . .

Ashür moves SEVEN tiles to 13-30, Into the thicket.


"Let us cut off the head." He speaks aloud, "The rest are always sure to fall."




HELLION PHASE







OBJECTIVES

-- ROUT THE ENEMY --
-- DESCEND INTO THE ZIGGURAT --
-- DO NOT ALLOW KASTILUS TO FALL --



FOES







Kastilus: The excitable researcher shifts just a tad bit, perhaps nervous or perhaps on the edge of anticipation. Regardless, he keeps himself adjacent to Iddin at all times.






Ashür: He merely nods by way of the young thief, Makeen's always proven reliable despite his age. "Right." The bandit hisses to the group, "It's drudgery time." With that he gestures toward the younger boys and makes the first movements.

Ashür moves SIX tiles to 8-32, just beside Zarif.

"Forget not my words. Fall to a Yeek and consider yourself fallen to the gods. . ." The lanky man unsheathes his similarly lengthy curved blade from its sheath with a dull wooden rasp, creeping between the brush where the merchant readies himself and his mount to take off.



RESERVED
Kastilus: "I abhor, no, detest acts of unheeded violence as these. . ." The sun-cracked archaeologist muses, somewhat contradictory to his earlier enthusiasm. "Still! Our work will be that of legends fine Hellions!" He then exclaims, though muted somewhat still by the dead look on Ashür's face. "Ahem. . . Good Theurg, I'll stay by your side for this sojourn."
Ashür: Beams yet another one of his trademarked glares, this time Siris's way just beside him, "Seal your lips newblood. Your heedlessness is your undoing." Those sunken eyes of his meticulously wander away from the foolhardy warrior, across the clearing to the vibrantly haired youth.

"I am not opposed to the boy's idea." He states, "Still, best to be sure we remain in the Theurg's sight. Bled out by a gaggle of Yeeks is a tale your progeny will never be rid of. . ." Despite his words Ashür looks to the east, where hills form a natural valley leading up to the Ziggurat, tempting a path it may be.
CHAPTER I: AND THE BAND PLAYED ON. . .




Kastilus: "Here we are gentlemen. That special feeling of mine prevailed, I simply knew we would locate the Ziggurat by dusk!" Excitably, the finely dressed archeologist in royal hues stepped just a arm's length too far our from the sparse forest clearing by which the company rest. Without a moments warning the nape of his collar his pulled taut and the spindly older man is nigh pulled to the ground; robbed of the majestic yet mysterious sight of the ancient structure, replaced instantly by the figure of a camel and its rider.

Ashür: "Do not make a move 'lest we say as such." So speaks the dour-eyed brigand amidst the band, releasing his grip upon their tag-along who gently scoffs in response, now wrapped tightly in a sellsword-blanket. "Be not hasty." He adds.




Kastilus: "And how could I ever?" Their current employer replies, dusting himself off and continuing just as effervescently, "This, dear friends, is a grand discovery! The lost Zagrosi Ziggurat's store untold riches deep within their vaults. Nay, not just so! The knowledge of golden ages long past as well. . ."

Ashür quiets the man down with a mere glare and insinuation toward the hilt of his blade. It has been three days and three nights trek through the rocky dunes of Zagros far to the south-east, near the Akkadian border. Now that the company happens upon this small scrub-land, they take full advantage of its bounty; beating the sand out of their boots and languring yet cautious beneath the shade of bao-bob trees.

Ruins dot the sun-baked grassland for miles, whether they be ancient towers of limestone or the long-rotted carcasses of vanished villages and huts. Beyond that a plateau of stone still standing tall beneath the rising peak with nary even the first signs of crumbling away to dust. Together these facts speak not only to the majesty of ages past, but to the mystique of these mountain foothills, for no man dwells there yet longer, it is no cradle of civilization, but it seems a graveyard. . .

Yet so, the marks of life are strong within this place. It is not long before the Hellions' succor 'neath the trees comes to an end, marked by a low croaking chant that builds and rises, carrying itself well across the foothills with a mighty echo. The roar and crackle of flame is set; the baseline to the chorus.


Ashür: "That awful sound; merchant, what do you see. . ?" His voice is that of a whisper now toward Zarif and Salador, and the company's movements still, unwilling to snap even a twig in the thicket.





Squat, gangrenous blue men draped in mops of seaweed-like hair and just as slick dance and sing a mournful song around the base a growing flame as the Sun begins to set. It is difficult to pick out beyond the slatted walls of pitched rock, but the stench filling the air for miles makes it clear. A mound of azure corpses of the little men, bled out and dismembered take well to the flame. Their oily bodies and filthy mops casting a smoke so foul as to choke the life out of a full grown man about the foothills.


Ashür: "Disgusting. This is no lost ruin. . ." The bandit's disdain grows clear as day, perhaps even the lightest hint of a popped vein makes itself known in his temple. "Yeeks." He says, naming the creatures beyond without even witnessing their warty blue skin. "You didn't mention there'd be beasts as these about. . ." Ashür adds with a foul taste upon his tongue.


Kastilus: "This is precisely what I hired you for. Think twice before you speak." He takes a bit of a whiff, that stench on the air. "I can tell they are immolating their dead, this is the perfect chance to finish them off and secure your pay."




RESERVED
Ashür of Blackhollow

Desperado






-------STATISTICS------- -------MASTERIES-------
| VIT -- 16 | 50% | BLADES -- D (-5 Accuracy / -1 Might)
| MGT -- 5 | 60% | POLEARMS -- E (-15 Accuracy / -1 Might)
| SKI -- 8 | 45% | AXES/BLUNT -- E (-20 Accuracy / -0 Might)
| SPD -- 6 | 30% | BOWS/RANGED -- E (-20 Accuracy / -2 Might)
| SRT -- 1 | 25% | THEURGY -- N/A (-20 Accuracy / -2 Might)
| MND -- 6 | 60% | MYSTICISM -- D (-10 Accuracy/ -1 Might)
| LUK -- 7 | 30% |

Secondary Statistics
WGT -- 1
ACC -- 22
AVO -- 13 / 18-Buckler
RES -- 2
CRT -- 9
MVT - 6




Traits:
- BURGLARY -- Can steal gear not currently equipped from an adjacent enemy unit. Provided your speed or skill is greater than theirs.
- CLEAN GETAWAY -- +1 Movement, may use remaining movement after opening a door, opening a chest, stealing or using an item.





Life in Akkad is harsh. . .

'They have made you swear by heaven and earth,
By heaven and earth,
Thy will is rock, thy brow held high,
Thy soles run rash, thy blood run dry,
They have made you swear by sand and sky.'

- An unknown soldier


Far from the flowing silver and azure streets of Uruk, the Hellions of Gir, eek out a meager existence, subsisting on the even more meager Aurums that grease their palms and oil their blades. On hardtack and smoked fats, their bellies rumble while a few bronze coins jangle across their strings and belts, clattering on their tarnished mail as they make their long march through the dry heat of the Zagros Mountains.

On another fools errand, another great break, another goose chase the captain set them on that'd fill their stomachs with aged old wine, the good stuff.

A strange twist of fate that while the realm is peaceful, prospering under just rule, the soldiers and retired veterans who propped it all up upon their valorous shoulders now languish across the dunes. A score and a couple, in dire straits search for a pittance of coin guarding greedy merchants, slashing a handful of throats, or sallying after strange recluses strapped for cash themselves, hellbent on whatever untold lore they'd uncovered this week.

This job's the latter. . .



The Akkadian Empire. . .

. . . Is a land of great priests and philosopher kings, touted as the very first of its kind. Just as its Lugal - 𒈗 - Or Emperor if you will, is decidedly the first of his. To use the words of the Ensi, the kings of city-states beneath the great Lugal; 'Of eminence there is no equal, from the Lower Sea to the Upper Sea. The totality of all lands under Heaven are subject to his methodical rule. From sunrise to sunset, it is no wonder he is called šar kiššati, lord of the universe.'

A gross and overwhelming exaggeration to be sure, but it can be said no other has found themselves with such a vast domain, nor power. Yet, with such great a canyon's breadth, so too grow the cracks and crevices, easier for man to slip into unnoticed.

With such rapid expansion, marching upon the barley filled stomachs of an unmatched force, Akkadia was able to secure its name in all the legends of the Earth. Soon of course, none challenged its majesty, and the need for a standing army fell into disparity. So too the men and women it left behind. . .



The Hellions of Gir

Twenty-two of such downtrodden folk, a loose-knit band of sellswords often tenuously allied. Regardless, the men, women, and few young-lings of the Hellions fly under the same banner. Old soldiers, brigands making a turn, thieves, and all manner of sallow folk who can so much as carry a blade.



THE CRUNCH





















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