Ian, and Plys'Iea
Not even the reflexes of a vampire could be used to dodge lightning, particularly if it struck one unawares. The electricity struck the alien in the back, some of it deflecting into random directions, or running along the extra-sensory spines.
The charge blasted along the staff, and into Ian before he even knew what was happening or could finish catapulting himself. The shock slammed him against the ground, his entire body seemed to alternate between numb and searing pain.
Ian blinked, trying to clear his vision, not only were the screaming and battlecries of the people around him painful to hear, but he felt light-headed and disorientated. "No one with the Akaviri would hit the creature; that Altmer girl probably cast it."
The vampire shook his head, but that didn't help clear things up at all. Painfully, Ian got to his knees and then to a shaky stand. Beside him the Plys'Iea shrieked in outrage, he gripped his staff furiously. The hunter slammed the weapon into the ground for leaverage before he stood and snarled at the all to familiar Altmer witch.
"I have known patience! Nineteen years I waited in Black Marsh before the Silhoutte came, but now I am tolerant no LONGER!!!" He yelled in heavily accented, but understandable Tamrielic. Summoning strength from his seemingly bottomless reserves of anger and resentment, the Plys'Iea roared and charged at Amrita.
"Now would be a very good time to go for the rafts, that creature is more pissed off than a berzerking Orc and those Akaviri aren't milling around either!" Ian closed his eyes, getting to the boat by sight was futile at this point.
Kirana guided him as best she could, and the injured vampire collapsed on the same raft as Satyana and Issac. "If I find out who fired that lightning bolt, I'll gut them and let the slaughterfish have the meat for.......lunch...." He muttered before unconsciousness took hold.
Full Version: To Heir is Human XVI-Playground
Flint Ironwood.
Flint nodded appreciatively to Issac when the young Altmer put up his own barrier. He doubted the fellow had seen it, but it was the gesture that mattered anyway.
,,I've been jumping all over the place." The Breton began to grumble as he tapped one end of his staff with a finger.
,,I've been stabbed, crushed, burned, pulled apart......And I swear, every time I take a rest and get healed, crap hits five seconds later! I've lost my swords and my staff is a complete nutjob! I'm telling you, I am getting too old for this. I've had it up to here and because of that, if you don't do something usefull I'm going to melt you down and shove your still bubbling remains down the Sil's throat! Now give me a barrier, Aleatoire!"
The water under the raft turned an odd shade of yellow, as well as gaining a peculiar scent. Flint sighed.
,,Oh, please. Not brandy! You're not turning the lake into brandy! Brandy has alcohol! And alcohol and fire is bad! It burned down a tavern once! Damn you!" He hammered the staff down on the raft in frustration but there was little he could do. A pool of brandy had formed and if a fireball hit now, they'd be in deep trouble. At least the beverage spread quickly. Soon, it would be too much mixed with normal water in order to burn.
Flint nodded appreciatively to Issac when the young Altmer put up his own barrier. He doubted the fellow had seen it, but it was the gesture that mattered anyway.
,,I've been jumping all over the place." The Breton began to grumble as he tapped one end of his staff with a finger.
,,I've been stabbed, crushed, burned, pulled apart......And I swear, every time I take a rest and get healed, crap hits five seconds later! I've lost my swords and my staff is a complete nutjob! I'm telling you, I am getting too old for this. I've had it up to here and because of that, if you don't do something usefull I'm going to melt you down and shove your still bubbling remains down the Sil's throat! Now give me a barrier, Aleatoire!"
The water under the raft turned an odd shade of yellow, as well as gaining a peculiar scent. Flint sighed.
,,Oh, please. Not brandy! You're not turning the lake into brandy! Brandy has alcohol! And alcohol and fire is bad! It burned down a tavern once! Damn you!" He hammered the staff down on the raft in frustration but there was little he could do. A pool of brandy had formed and if a fireball hit now, they'd be in deep trouble. At least the beverage spread quickly. Soon, it would be too much mixed with normal water in order to burn.
Patholos
Facing himself, Patholos made ready a high strike stance learned from the Narza'Tai. Patholos hoped the shadow of himself had no knowledge of the Narza'Tai, giving him an edge. The shadow of Patholos stooped low and picked up a weapon, a small handblade, about 50 centimeters long. The darkness perpetuated from the shadow was kept constant by the Necromancer snakeman, now in full concentration with his eyes closed. Patholos noticed the thick stream of magic being fed into the shadow, and it looked like a strong cable. Before Patholos returned his gaze to the shadow, it struck. Patholos parry high and punched hard where the abdomen would be. He was surprised when the Necromancer grunted, and the shadow made no noise. The Necromancer seemed to be controlling every aspect of the shadow through the cable of magic.
After a few moments of feinting and superfluous strikes, both Patholos and his shadow showed no visible damage. A Narza'Tai member looked to approach the fight, but then was engaged by another tactical snakemen squad. Patholos focused and sent a streaming bolt of fire towards the Necromancer and charged his shadow. The Shadow changed locations in a split second and absorbed the fire spell, faltering for a moment, then darkening again. The Necromancer hissed loudly, and seemed visibly fatigued, but Patholos was stunned. The fire spell he sent at the Necromancer was the highest level of fire magic he had ever learned. Only the Fingers of the Black Hand were able to conjure it, let alone maximize its potential. The fire had two effects; obvious immolation and explosion, and then magicka interference. The spell should had dissipated the shadow, and Patholos was counting on that. It amazed him that the Necromancer still stood and that the shadow was charging him again.
Patholos sustained multiple wounds on his forearms and thighs, as the Shadow was using the Secondary Take Down method of killing an opponent. Usually, this technique was only used if the user had poisoned weaponry, which made Patholos worry. He quickly examined his wounds to determine if he could see poison. To his surprise, there didn't seem to be any poison. But, the Secondary Take Down method was also used to bleed out a stronger opponent, one who could not be beat physically. The Necromancer must have learned all of this in mere seconds, which made Patholos ponder the strength of the Akaviri magic, and he wondered if it was the same type....
Mannimarco
Bodily rejection is a side effect of soul corrupting, and Mannimarco was vomiting blood not fifty yards from the campsite. His eyes were dilated and his veins were vivid through the Dark Elf complexion on his skin. His started turning pallid, darkness creeping into the corner of his vision. With a final grunt he stood up and with his last ounce of strength, cast a sealing spell to keep his soul inside the body while he was unconscious. The body would heal itself while unconscious, and Mannimarco could restore himself to full potency. While he sat in the unconscious body, he slowly reached his vision out to the River of Time, and began focusing on the breaks, the immortals. The river flowed and soon Mannimarco found what he sought, A small humanoid figure was removed from the river, and he had the telltale signs of vampirism. So did hundreds of others around him. But what distinguished him was that his soul was entwined with another....
Facing himself, Patholos made ready a high strike stance learned from the Narza'Tai. Patholos hoped the shadow of himself had no knowledge of the Narza'Tai, giving him an edge. The shadow of Patholos stooped low and picked up a weapon, a small handblade, about 50 centimeters long. The darkness perpetuated from the shadow was kept constant by the Necromancer snakeman, now in full concentration with his eyes closed. Patholos noticed the thick stream of magic being fed into the shadow, and it looked like a strong cable. Before Patholos returned his gaze to the shadow, it struck. Patholos parry high and punched hard where the abdomen would be. He was surprised when the Necromancer grunted, and the shadow made no noise. The Necromancer seemed to be controlling every aspect of the shadow through the cable of magic.
After a few moments of feinting and superfluous strikes, both Patholos and his shadow showed no visible damage. A Narza'Tai member looked to approach the fight, but then was engaged by another tactical snakemen squad. Patholos focused and sent a streaming bolt of fire towards the Necromancer and charged his shadow. The Shadow changed locations in a split second and absorbed the fire spell, faltering for a moment, then darkening again. The Necromancer hissed loudly, and seemed visibly fatigued, but Patholos was stunned. The fire spell he sent at the Necromancer was the highest level of fire magic he had ever learned. Only the Fingers of the Black Hand were able to conjure it, let alone maximize its potential. The fire had two effects; obvious immolation and explosion, and then magicka interference. The spell should had dissipated the shadow, and Patholos was counting on that. It amazed him that the Necromancer still stood and that the shadow was charging him again.
Patholos sustained multiple wounds on his forearms and thighs, as the Shadow was using the Secondary Take Down method of killing an opponent. Usually, this technique was only used if the user had poisoned weaponry, which made Patholos worry. He quickly examined his wounds to determine if he could see poison. To his surprise, there didn't seem to be any poison. But, the Secondary Take Down method was also used to bleed out a stronger opponent, one who could not be beat physically. The Necromancer must have learned all of this in mere seconds, which made Patholos ponder the strength of the Akaviri magic, and he wondered if it was the same type....
Mannimarco
Bodily rejection is a side effect of soul corrupting, and Mannimarco was vomiting blood not fifty yards from the campsite. His eyes were dilated and his veins were vivid through the Dark Elf complexion on his skin. His started turning pallid, darkness creeping into the corner of his vision. With a final grunt he stood up and with his last ounce of strength, cast a sealing spell to keep his soul inside the body while he was unconscious. The body would heal itself while unconscious, and Mannimarco could restore himself to full potency. While he sat in the unconscious body, he slowly reached his vision out to the River of Time, and began focusing on the breaks, the immortals. The river flowed and soon Mannimarco found what he sought, A small humanoid figure was removed from the river, and he had the telltale signs of vampirism. So did hundreds of others around him. But what distinguished him was that his soul was entwined with another....
Rann
Walking towards the prison, Rann spotted something charging at Amrita.
I thought we killed that thing!
He broke out into a run when he reached the bridge, hoping to join the fight before someone died. He realized that the beast's presence here was a major problem to the retreat, and the longer the reptilian monster was kept occupied, the better.
Walking towards the prison, Rann spotted something charging at Amrita.
I thought we killed that thing!
He broke out into a run when he reached the bridge, hoping to join the fight before someone died. He realized that the beast's presence here was a major problem to the retreat, and the longer the reptilian monster was kept occupied, the better.
Amrita
Amrita noticed the beast surging towards her and she nimbly leaped to the side, but not before leaving a towering spire of flame where she previously stood. Hopefully the momentum of the beast's charge would send it right into the flames.
Amrita noticed the beast surging towards her and she nimbly leaped to the side, but not before leaving a towering spire of flame where she previously stood. Hopefully the momentum of the beast's charge would send it right into the flames.
OCC: Ian won't be happy when he meets Amrita next, and no one is surprised that a seemingly dumb "monster" can speak their language.
Plys'Iea
When the space that the Altmer had formerly occupied blossomed into flame, the Plys'Iea had only a moments consideration. He planted both feet on the ground, Plys'Iea did not have large claws on their legs, but their feet and hands were designed for climbing, and could provide more traction that most plantigrade species.
His people built their guantlets and boots in the same fashion their hands and feet could grip surfaces. The hunter threw all of his weight forward, into the flames! But rather than being seared by the spire of fire (lol, that rhymes) his momentum and powerful leap exposed him to the heat too shortly to be harmed.
He hit the ground and rolled, shifting sideways to face Amrita.
"You have branded me no more that a beast, but I know what you are witch. You've killed before, taken life without reason. Who is the monster between the two of us? I kill for the same reason a hunter would, for my kind see all of yours as a hunter would see game." The alien rumbled, getting to his feet.
Plys'Iea
When the space that the Altmer had formerly occupied blossomed into flame, the Plys'Iea had only a moments consideration. He planted both feet on the ground, Plys'Iea did not have large claws on their legs, but their feet and hands were designed for climbing, and could provide more traction that most plantigrade species.
His people built their guantlets and boots in the same fashion their hands and feet could grip surfaces. The hunter threw all of his weight forward, into the flames! But rather than being seared by the spire of fire (lol, that rhymes) his momentum and powerful leap exposed him to the heat too shortly to be harmed.
He hit the ground and rolled, shifting sideways to face Amrita.
"You have branded me no more that a beast, but I know what you are witch. You've killed before, taken life without reason. Who is the monster between the two of us? I kill for the same reason a hunter would, for my kind see all of yours as a hunter would see game." The alien rumbled, getting to his feet.
Patholos
A disturbingly lifelike moan escaped from the shadow, and Patholos looked over at the Necromancer akavir. Patholos expected to see stronger cables attaching themselves to the shadow, but instead, there were cables coming from the shadow and attaching themselves to the necromancer. The Necromancer's own essence was being absorbed by Patholos's dark soul, and Patholos knew why. The Power of Sithis could not be returned, revoked or removed, it was in the Five Tenants. The Necromancer was attempting to control a tormented soul that had been woven by the Void. No amount of magic could possibly sustain control for more than a few moments over the colossal power of the Void. The shadow began to formulate words, or almost words as the Necromancer ailed. With a stunning display of willpower, the necromancer cut the cables attached to himself and to the shadow, but only had a moment's reprieve, as more cables issued out from the shadow.
Patholos's shadow drained the Necromancer completely, and the cables attached to the necromancer snapped into nothingness. The dried out husk of an akaviri soldier remained, and it looked as if every ounce of fluid inside his body was drained. The shadow seemed to bulk up, and then veins and a arteries appeared underneath a very thin layer of skin.
The shadow spoke, in a contra-alto tone, "To exist....on this plane.....as one of you......I need to become.....one of you....?"
Patholos was again shocked. The shadow was absorbing life and converting that raw energy into creating a body. What Patholos could do with that kind of power! Life energy converted into matter, it seemed impossible. While Patholos thought over what he saw, the cables of magic shot out to either side of the shadow and grabbed female Bosmer and another akaviri warrior. In a matter of seconds, both empty shells were tossed to the ground. Patholos wondered about the female Bosmer, she didn't even scream. That most likely meant that when the cables attached to you, they forced out your soul. Patholos kept that in mind as he circled near the shadow, now moments away from becoming mortal.
Mannimarco
Mannimarco gasped as he sat up, and the bodily convulsions started again. Mannimarco would have to shock his body into accepting the cellular processes that his soul would now control. Mannimarco would attempt a fusing of non-matter and matter, which required vast amounts of magic. Mannimarco wondered where he could find the magic he needed to cast this spell. The dark elf did not have nearly the stores that he needed, so Mannimarco would have to improvise. A violent cough sent bloody spittle a few yards away. Mannimarco would have to hurry, a body was tough, but when the body is trying to kill itself, it becomes terribly efficient.
A disturbingly lifelike moan escaped from the shadow, and Patholos looked over at the Necromancer akavir. Patholos expected to see stronger cables attaching themselves to the shadow, but instead, there were cables coming from the shadow and attaching themselves to the necromancer. The Necromancer's own essence was being absorbed by Patholos's dark soul, and Patholos knew why. The Power of Sithis could not be returned, revoked or removed, it was in the Five Tenants. The Necromancer was attempting to control a tormented soul that had been woven by the Void. No amount of magic could possibly sustain control for more than a few moments over the colossal power of the Void. The shadow began to formulate words, or almost words as the Necromancer ailed. With a stunning display of willpower, the necromancer cut the cables attached to himself and to the shadow, but only had a moment's reprieve, as more cables issued out from the shadow.
Patholos's shadow drained the Necromancer completely, and the cables attached to the necromancer snapped into nothingness. The dried out husk of an akaviri soldier remained, and it looked as if every ounce of fluid inside his body was drained. The shadow seemed to bulk up, and then veins and a arteries appeared underneath a very thin layer of skin.
The shadow spoke, in a contra-alto tone, "To exist....on this plane.....as one of you......I need to become.....one of you....?"
Patholos was again shocked. The shadow was absorbing life and converting that raw energy into creating a body. What Patholos could do with that kind of power! Life energy converted into matter, it seemed impossible. While Patholos thought over what he saw, the cables of magic shot out to either side of the shadow and grabbed female Bosmer and another akaviri warrior. In a matter of seconds, both empty shells were tossed to the ground. Patholos wondered about the female Bosmer, she didn't even scream. That most likely meant that when the cables attached to you, they forced out your soul. Patholos kept that in mind as he circled near the shadow, now moments away from becoming mortal.
Mannimarco
Mannimarco gasped as he sat up, and the bodily convulsions started again. Mannimarco would have to shock his body into accepting the cellular processes that his soul would now control. Mannimarco would attempt a fusing of non-matter and matter, which required vast amounts of magic. Mannimarco wondered where he could find the magic he needed to cast this spell. The dark elf did not have nearly the stores that he needed, so Mannimarco would have to improvise. A violent cough sent bloody spittle a few yards away. Mannimarco would have to hurry, a body was tough, but when the body is trying to kill itself, it becomes terribly efficient.
Dan, reaching the flotilla
As Dan limped his way closer and closer to the flotilla he could notice that all hell had broken lose. The Akaviri host was attacking in full strength and the flotilla would soon have to leave the city or face destruction at the hands of the enemy.
Dan wasn't in the state to fight properly so he looked to find a raft which he could board. Narrowly dodging the fierce fighting going on near the rafts he finally jumped into one of the rafts under the protective shield dome. Once there he simply laid down and rested. He was not a mage so he couldn't help with the dome even if he wanted to. Besides, all this running around had exhausted him.
As Dan limped his way closer and closer to the flotilla he could notice that all hell had broken lose. The Akaviri host was attacking in full strength and the flotilla would soon have to leave the city or face destruction at the hands of the enemy.
Dan wasn't in the state to fight properly so he looked to find a raft which he could board. Narrowly dodging the fierce fighting going on near the rafts he finally jumped into one of the rafts under the protective shield dome. Once there he simply laid down and rested. He was not a mage so he couldn't help with the dome even if he wanted to. Besides, all this running around had exhausted him.
OCC: Kirana's more than just a voice in Ian's head now. 
Karn
Sweat covered his face in a thin film, the Narza'Tai armor didn't help with unforgiving heat. Karn was thankful it hadn't caught fire. The sensei analyzed the situation in a glance, most of the soldiers and able individuals had moved up to try and hold off the first waves of Akavir.
Beside him, an assassin fired a crossbow at a tactical Akaviri fighting a Nord lad. The snake recoiled as the bolt was caught in its rib cage, and the Nord used the opportunity well, slamming his axe into the snakeman's shoulder.
Karn looked back at the rafts and was satisfied to see individuals channeling shields to protect against more fireballs and arrows. Our mages need a reprieve, He thought. Argonians appeared from the depths with some more supplies from the sewers.
As soon as they dropped their burden, they dived back down to get more. If only half of Tamriel was so dedicated.
Kirana
Ian was unconscious, but she made no attempt to rouse her friend. You've endured enough as it is, have some rest. Kirana remembered that Ian had allowed Cerpin temporary dominion of his body. She was willing to try doing the same while he was resting.
The sage focused, willing her essense to flow into the void that Ian had been in while conscious. An eternity stretched on before she felt the equivalent of a lock click open. Kirana opened her eyes and blinked. The environment came rushing to her, she had forgotten what it was like to live by her own senses.
The air was acrid after the Silhoutte's fireball strike, people were crying out, Akaviri were hissing and shrieking war cries, and Issac's shield shimmered all around the raft. Kirana, Ian's body, sat up and took a better look at the other occupants of the raft, particularly Issac and Satyana.
She moved beside the two young ones and set a hand above Issac's chest. Fortifying her "son's" reserves with some of Ian's bolstered magicka. Kirana turned to Satyana, studying her surrogate son's fiance for a heartbeat.
Karn
Sweat covered his face in a thin film, the Narza'Tai armor didn't help with unforgiving heat. Karn was thankful it hadn't caught fire. The sensei analyzed the situation in a glance, most of the soldiers and able individuals had moved up to try and hold off the first waves of Akavir.
Beside him, an assassin fired a crossbow at a tactical Akaviri fighting a Nord lad. The snake recoiled as the bolt was caught in its rib cage, and the Nord used the opportunity well, slamming his axe into the snakeman's shoulder.
Karn looked back at the rafts and was satisfied to see individuals channeling shields to protect against more fireballs and arrows. Our mages need a reprieve, He thought. Argonians appeared from the depths with some more supplies from the sewers.
As soon as they dropped their burden, they dived back down to get more. If only half of Tamriel was so dedicated.
Kirana
Ian was unconscious, but she made no attempt to rouse her friend. You've endured enough as it is, have some rest. Kirana remembered that Ian had allowed Cerpin temporary dominion of his body. She was willing to try doing the same while he was resting.
The sage focused, willing her essense to flow into the void that Ian had been in while conscious. An eternity stretched on before she felt the equivalent of a lock click open. Kirana opened her eyes and blinked. The environment came rushing to her, she had forgotten what it was like to live by her own senses.
The air was acrid after the Silhoutte's fireball strike, people were crying out, Akaviri were hissing and shrieking war cries, and Issac's shield shimmered all around the raft. Kirana, Ian's body, sat up and took a better look at the other occupants of the raft, particularly Issac and Satyana.
She moved beside the two young ones and set a hand above Issac's chest. Fortifying her "son's" reserves with some of Ian's bolstered magicka. Kirana turned to Satyana, studying her surrogate son's fiance for a heartbeat.
QUOTE(Lord Revan @ Jan 17 2008, 03:32 PM) 
OCC: Ian won't be happy when he meets Amrita next, and no one is surprised that a seemingly dumb "monster" can speak their language.
Plys'Iea
When the space that the Altmer had formerly occupied blossomed into flame, the Plys'Iea had only a moments consideration. He planted both feet on the ground, Plys'Iea did not have large claws on their legs, but their feet and hands were designed for climbing, and could provide more traction that most plantigrade species.
His people built their guantlets and boots in the same fashion their hands and feet could grip surfaces. The hunter threw all of his weight forward, into the flames! But rather than being seared by the spire of fire (lol, that rhymes) his momentum and powerful leap exposed him to the heat too shortly to be harmed.
He hit the ground and rolled, shifting sideways to face Amrita.
"You have branded me no more that a beast, but I know what you are witch. You've killed before, taken life without reason. Who is the monster between the two of us? I kill for the same reason a hunter would, for my kind see all of yours as a hunter would see game." The alien rumbled, getting to his feet.
Amrita
Amrita grinned. "Sounds rather... beastly of you to picture us as mere game, creature," she retorted back, giving emphasis on the word the creature seemed to detest.
"If you truly believe that you're actually intelligent you'd know which side to choose. Obviously since you chose the wrong side, you no idea what intelligence is," she continued, belting out a laugh. "Any mere brute can swing a barbaric club, it takes intelligence to perform "witchcraft"."
Flint Ironwood, on a raft.
Flint sighed in relief. At least they hadn't been fireballed while the water was flammable.
,,Great. We might just make it." He noted as the beach drew closer.
,,Alright, everyone! Prepare to disembark! It won't be long till the snakes get into pursuit!" He shouted and looked at the treeline.
,,Hmm, I just wonder. With my luck, we'd be walking right into a trap. I mean, it would be typical. I've been rolling from one trap into another for a while now." He thought.
,,So......detection spells out of the wazoo!"
He didn't like what he saw.
,,Armed forces disembark first! I want a phalanx supported by a line of archers. Once assembled, advance slowly! I expect company from that forest!"
Vasha.
The beast was a tough one. Bolts, fire, nothing seemed to be capable of stopping it for long. Still, there wasn't much they could do but try.
,,Fire!" She telepathically instructed and another cloud of poisoned projectiles whizzed towards their mark.
Flint sighed in relief. At least they hadn't been fireballed while the water was flammable.
,,Great. We might just make it." He noted as the beach drew closer.
,,Alright, everyone! Prepare to disembark! It won't be long till the snakes get into pursuit!" He shouted and looked at the treeline.
,,Hmm, I just wonder. With my luck, we'd be walking right into a trap. I mean, it would be typical. I've been rolling from one trap into another for a while now." He thought.
,,So......detection spells out of the wazoo!"
He didn't like what he saw.
,,Armed forces disembark first! I want a phalanx supported by a line of archers. Once assembled, advance slowly! I expect company from that forest!"
Vasha.
The beast was a tough one. Bolts, fire, nothing seemed to be capable of stopping it for long. Still, there wasn't much they could do but try.
,,Fire!" She telepathically instructed and another cloud of poisoned projectiles whizzed towards their mark.
Plys'Iea
"You have no idea what I am, that is because my people aren't from Nirm." He replied, amused by Amrita's hypocrasy.
"You're ignorance is proven by your judging my kind by my actions alone. Look at the stars; each light in the void has the potential for life, not just this single planet." The alien contradicted her.
"And as for you're precious magicka, I couldn't use it anyway, such power is not available to my people, but our technology far exceeds anything your kind could comprehend." He explained, shifting the grip on his staff.
Suddenly the Narza'Tai's bolts pinged off of his back. The hunter hesitated for a moment; then made his decision.
"Pray to whatever diety you have, if my people return to this place, there will be more than one sergeant with primitive weaponry." He hissed before throwing his staff at Rann's approaching form.
QUOTE(The Metal Mallet @ Jan 19 2008, 06:54 AM)
QUOTE(Lord Revan @ Jan 17 2008, 03:32 PM)
OCC: Ian won't be happy when he meets Amrita next, and no one is surprised that a seemingly dumb "monster" can speak their language.
Plys'Iea
When the space that the Altmer had formerly occupied blossomed into flame, the Plys'Iea had only a moments consideration. He planted both feet on the ground, Plys'Iea did not have large claws on their legs, but their feet and hands were designed for climbing, and could provide more traction that most plantigrade species.
His people built their guantlets and boots in the same fashion their hands and feet could grip surfaces. The hunter threw all of his weight forward, into the flames! But rather than being seared by the spire of fire (lol, that rhymes) his momentum and powerful leap exposed him to the heat too shortly to be harmed.
He hit the ground and rolled, shifting sideways to face Amrita.
"You have branded me no more that a beast, but I know what you are witch. You've killed before, taken life without reason. Who is the monster between the two of us? I kill for the same reason a hunter would, for my kind see all of yours as a hunter would see game." The alien rumbled, getting to his feet.
Amrita
Amrita grinned. "Sounds rather... beastly of you to picture us as mere game, creature," she retorted back, giving emphasis on the word the creature seemed to detest.
"If you truly believe that you're actually intelligent you'd know which side to choose. Obviously since you chose the wrong side, you no idea what intelligence is," she continued, belting out a laugh. "Any mere brute can swing a barbaric club, it takes intelligence to perform "witchcraft"."
The Silhouette, Shore of Lake Rumare
"I think," laughed the Silhouette's voice from no where "That you calling your petty spells intelligent is one of the most amusing things I have ever heard" mused the Silhouette as he suddenly took form from a black puff of smoke. "As a matter of fact, I think the most intelligence you people have shown is running away, though I can't say that will save you except maybe give my men a little bit more to do." His prescence seemed to have driven the place into even more chaos. More Tsaeci were coming through the gate and the Silhouette advanced on Amrita.
"You have no idea what magic truly is, Tamriel scum" he said as he shot a blast of purple magic towards her.
Tenek
"Everyone has to be rushing around; one moment everything's fine, and the next the Akaviri Army is tearing everything up." A figure muttered under his breath as he jumped down from part of the path to the ground.
Tenek ran to the shore, ignoring the snakemen and other Tamrielics fighting in between. *Why should I fight? I lost my loot and no body's paying me....*
"Everyone has to be rushing around; one moment everything's fine, and the next the Akaviri Army is tearing everything up." A figure muttered under his breath as he jumped down from part of the path to the ground.
Tenek ran to the shore, ignoring the snakemen and other Tamrielics fighting in between. *Why should I fight? I lost my loot and no body's paying me....*
Rann
Rann couldn't help but feel as if his intelligence were being insulted when the strange creature threw its staff his way. The monster's aim was dead on, but Rann was at a far enough distance away that he was able to sidestep out of the projectile's path.
The staff made a loud clamor on the stone bridge, and Rann turned to regard it. He decided then to dispose of the weapon before it could be used against them again. It seemed as if Amrita and the lizard were conversing over something, so time was no crucial factor. He lifted the staff with both hands, as it was rather heavy, and unceremoniously dropped it over the side of the bridge.
The fact that the lizard spoke didn't surprise Rann; the thing had shown nothing but considerable intelligence every time they encountered each other, which was starting to become quite a large amount.
Rann turned back to Amrita and the lizard to find that another being had joined the fight; the Silhouette itself. Suddenly Rann realized that time had been a crucial factor. Running twice as fast as before, the dunmer assassin's hand gripped his sword tightly, hoping to correct the error he made in wasting time to dispose of a staff.
Hold on, Amrita, I'm coming.
He doubted that he could make any kind of difference in the outcome of the fight, but he would try anyway.
Rann couldn't help but feel as if his intelligence were being insulted when the strange creature threw its staff his way. The monster's aim was dead on, but Rann was at a far enough distance away that he was able to sidestep out of the projectile's path.
The staff made a loud clamor on the stone bridge, and Rann turned to regard it. He decided then to dispose of the weapon before it could be used against them again. It seemed as if Amrita and the lizard were conversing over something, so time was no crucial factor. He lifted the staff with both hands, as it was rather heavy, and unceremoniously dropped it over the side of the bridge.
The fact that the lizard spoke didn't surprise Rann; the thing had shown nothing but considerable intelligence every time they encountered each other, which was starting to become quite a large amount.
Rann turned back to Amrita and the lizard to find that another being had joined the fight; the Silhouette itself. Suddenly Rann realized that time had been a crucial factor. Running twice as fast as before, the dunmer assassin's hand gripped his sword tightly, hoping to correct the error he made in wasting time to dispose of a staff.
Hold on, Amrita, I'm coming.
He doubted that he could make any kind of difference in the outcome of the fight, but he would try anyway.
Amrita
Amrita suddenly found herself in a predicament, both of the two most powerful enemies now faced her. She knew that this was beginning to get over her head. She leaped away from the magic hurled by the Silhouette and kept her distance away from both opponents, eying both of them for the next move. It was then that she found Rann running to her assistance. She grimaced. Now she was stuck with protecting both herself and her brother...
Amrita suddenly found herself in a predicament, both of the two most powerful enemies now faced her. She knew that this was beginning to get over her head. She leaped away from the magic hurled by the Silhouette and kept her distance away from both opponents, eying both of them for the next move. It was then that she found Rann running to her assistance. She grimaced. Now she was stuck with protecting both herself and her brother...
OCC: Rann and Amrita are getting left behind..... And it might not be long before some Akaviri find Vasha or one of her assassins.
(Plys'Iea)
The Silhoutte's arrival caused only a moment's pause. He dipped his head quickly to the War Leader.
The alien then faced Rann's charge.
Amrita
Amrita saw the creature turn away from her to attack her brother. Amrita grinned at the mistake of the beast. For something that claims it's intelligent, it should know better by now than to turn it's back on me.
With relatively ease, Amrita unleashed a blistering rocket of ice hurtling towards the beast's exposed back and sensory appendages.
Amrita saw the creature turn away from her to attack her brother. Amrita grinned at the mistake of the beast. For something that claims it's intelligent, it should know better by now than to turn it's back on me.
With relatively ease, Amrita unleashed a blistering rocket of ice hurtling towards the beast's exposed back and sensory appendages.
OCC: I'm fine with the Plys'Iea losing a couple sensory organs, they'll grow back during the intermission.
Btw, ()-bold **-italics and the alien's thought isn't guarded, it's practically broadcasting it. Hint hint
(Plys'Iea)
He felt the air shift and the witch's arm rise to cast the spell. This caught him off guard, but the hunter began to side-step.
Rather than strike in the center of his back, the bolt hit his pauldron. The chill froze one of his spines and caused him to stumble.
The hunter corrected himself and without pause, reached behind his back and snapped the frozen appendage off without so much as a wince. *One way or another, with, you will not live through this war.*
Carelessly, he tossed his amputated spine away. The alien did not turn to Amrita, but he remained much more aware of any motion from her direction.
He leered coldly at Rann, *how ignorant these people are, they believe their stand will save the lives of the flottila? Fools, the ambushing force will slaughter those who we did not kill here.*
OOC: I hope you're not talking about my Dan. He may be a telepath, but it's only one way. He can't really read minds but he can feel the presence of someone of particularly strong will. And another thing, how exactly did the Plys'Iea find out about the Akaviri ambush force lying in wait on the other side of the lake? It wasn't as if someone told him in an express way? Oh well, he is an alien after all.
Savirien, the Imperial Palace
Savirien emerged from the former palace of Tamrielic Emperors victoriously. There had been none to oppose him and his shock-troops from conquering the Tower. The Akaviri forces under the Silhouette now had a line of sight which spread over almost the entire center of Cyrodiil.
Now that this is over with, time to see what progress our mercenary and our almighty leader have made.
Savirien looked around and called an Akaviri officer which had accompanied him during the conquest of the Tower. After staring at the serpent-warrior for a few moments, Savirien quickly made himself understood as to what he desired. Within seconds, the serpent was bowing low in front of Savirien as a sign of respect.
"Your will, general?" the officer asked.
"Take command of our troops present here at the Tower, sergeant. Until the return of our Lord or of myself, you shall be in charge. Do not disappoint for our Lord is not as lenient as I may be, at times." Savirien said as he chose a company of crack troops to lead personally to the site of the Tamrielic flotilla of refugees.
Brandishing his blade, he slithered off followed by his warriors.
Savirien, the Imperial Palace
Savirien emerged from the former palace of Tamrielic Emperors victoriously. There had been none to oppose him and his shock-troops from conquering the Tower. The Akaviri forces under the Silhouette now had a line of sight which spread over almost the entire center of Cyrodiil.
Now that this is over with, time to see what progress our mercenary and our almighty leader have made.
Savirien looked around and called an Akaviri officer which had accompanied him during the conquest of the Tower. After staring at the serpent-warrior for a few moments, Savirien quickly made himself understood as to what he desired. Within seconds, the serpent was bowing low in front of Savirien as a sign of respect.
"Your will, general?" the officer asked.
"Take command of our troops present here at the Tower, sergeant. Until the return of our Lord or of myself, you shall be in charge. Do not disappoint for our Lord is not as lenient as I may be, at times." Savirien said as he chose a company of crack troops to lead personally to the site of the Tamrielic flotilla of refugees.
Brandishing his blade, he slithered off followed by his warriors.
Vasha and co.
Again reloading the crossbow took far too long. Vasha looked over her shoulder and saw that the flottilla had reached the edge of the lake. Already troops were disembarking and forming a Phalanx.
,,Why? I don't see anything from here?" She thought.
,,Alright, we're leaving!" She shouted and left her position.
,,Killing this beast is one thing, but it is more important that we keep up with the pack. And where is Kalsh?"
Flint Ironwood, flottilla.
Flint waited impatiently for the soldiers to take up their formation. He didn't like fighting himself, but it was obvious to him that they couldn't avoid this one. Either the soldiers would engage the Akaviri he'd detected, or said Akaviri would fall on the civilians like a pack of very hungry wolves.
,,But, this is a war. Are those civilians really that important anymore? Unless we stop this army somehow, they're going to die anyway." The Breton shook his head.
,,No, what am I thinking? I'm not going to sacrifice a single civilian if I can help it. And I'll try to keep the army alive as well."
Flint thought for a moment on which spell to use. Telekinesis was his specialty, but he doubted that was his best option right now. On the other hand, Aleatoire had proven itself to be a very versatile staff.
,,Ok, buddy. Let's see if you can blind that pack of snakes hiding in the bushes. Ready, set....shoot!"
A black stream of smoke erupted from the staff's end and settled at the forest's edge in a dense fog.
,,Ok, that should scare them for a bit. Now for my part. Archers, hold ready and fire at anything scaly that comes running out of that cloud. Spearman take care of any that get too close. As for me....." He shouted and fell silent as he concentrated on his job.
Trees began to groan as they were gripped by invisible hands.
,,Let's see how you like it when you get a whole tree thrown on your heads!"
Again reloading the crossbow took far too long. Vasha looked over her shoulder and saw that the flottilla had reached the edge of the lake. Already troops were disembarking and forming a Phalanx.
,,Why? I don't see anything from here?" She thought.
,,Alright, we're leaving!" She shouted and left her position.
,,Killing this beast is one thing, but it is more important that we keep up with the pack. And where is Kalsh?"
Flint Ironwood, flottilla.
Flint waited impatiently for the soldiers to take up their formation. He didn't like fighting himself, but it was obvious to him that they couldn't avoid this one. Either the soldiers would engage the Akaviri he'd detected, or said Akaviri would fall on the civilians like a pack of very hungry wolves.
,,But, this is a war. Are those civilians really that important anymore? Unless we stop this army somehow, they're going to die anyway." The Breton shook his head.
,,No, what am I thinking? I'm not going to sacrifice a single civilian if I can help it. And I'll try to keep the army alive as well."
Flint thought for a moment on which spell to use. Telekinesis was his specialty, but he doubted that was his best option right now. On the other hand, Aleatoire had proven itself to be a very versatile staff.
,,Ok, buddy. Let's see if you can blind that pack of snakes hiding in the bushes. Ready, set....shoot!"
A black stream of smoke erupted from the staff's end and settled at the forest's edge in a dense fog.
,,Ok, that should scare them for a bit. Now for my part. Archers, hold ready and fire at anything scaly that comes running out of that cloud. Spearman take care of any that get too close. As for me....." He shouted and fell silent as he concentrated on his job.
Trees began to groan as they were gripped by invisible hands.
,,Let's see how you like it when you get a whole tree thrown on your heads!"
OCC: Satyana and Rann are limited telepaths (Serene's genes and all). And as for the Plys'Iea, he was the one who asked for that force, so he just assumed (correctly) that it was in position.
(Issac)
At Satyana's beckoning he came out of his trance. Issac saw the troops forming a phalanx and everyone else was disembarking.
He also spotted Ian departing and going after Flint who had placed a smokescreen.
Issac stood and helped Satyana off. The pair then proceeded behind the phalanx.
(Tenek)
The bosmer jumped off his raft and glanced around a bit. *It smells like sweat, blood, and snake over here.*
Clearly the soldiers knew about the Akaviri nearby, so Tenek took a bag from a burly Nord and promptly made himself scarse before the imminent fighting started.
(Karn)
Without a word the Narza'Tai scattered into the night. What gave away the Akaviri was their eyes glowing in night eye.
Karn stood beside the legion officer and no one commented on the sudden absence of the assassin for several minutes.
Savirien
Savirien reached the northern shores of the island rather quickly. He had pushed his soldiers to the limits of their endurance but they had done well and had risen in his eyes. Not one of the Akaviri warriors under him cringed from the moment they left the Tower to the moment they arrived to witness a battle between two of the Tamrielics and the other ranking figures of the Akaviri army, besides Savirien himself.
Their champion, the alien, seemed to have been relieved off his trusty staff by one of his foes and he seemed to have found his match in the person of the female Tamrielic. Oddly enough however, the beast still stood with its back turned to the female opponent, perhaps in an act of defiance.
I will never understand these strange members of a proud warrior-race and their odd ways of doing battle.
The Silhouette seemed to be standing more by the side, watching the battle rather than actively participating in it. He seemed to enjoy watching his most terrible minion tear apart his enemies. Another one of the Silhouette's odd pleasures, Savirien guessed as he ordered his warriors to form a circle around the dueling opponents, wide enough to give them space to fight but tight enough so as not to allow the Tamrielics to escape.
After his troops deployed according to his wishes, Savirien joined the ranks of Tsaesci warriors watching the battle. His attention was not given fully to the duel at hand however, Savirien also threw quick gazes over to the shore to see how the ambush force was faring. It seemed that the Tamrielics had somehow detected their troops hiding in the forest and were now arrayed in battle formation.
As soon as we are done with this pointless show of skill, I should announce the Silhouette that the Tamrielics are escaping. At least he will know that way that it was his fault that they did escape. Him and his pet, the beast, as well.
Savirien reached the northern shores of the island rather quickly. He had pushed his soldiers to the limits of their endurance but they had done well and had risen in his eyes. Not one of the Akaviri warriors under him cringed from the moment they left the Tower to the moment they arrived to witness a battle between two of the Tamrielics and the other ranking figures of the Akaviri army, besides Savirien himself.
Their champion, the alien, seemed to have been relieved off his trusty staff by one of his foes and he seemed to have found his match in the person of the female Tamrielic. Oddly enough however, the beast still stood with its back turned to the female opponent, perhaps in an act of defiance.
I will never understand these strange members of a proud warrior-race and their odd ways of doing battle.
The Silhouette seemed to be standing more by the side, watching the battle rather than actively participating in it. He seemed to enjoy watching his most terrible minion tear apart his enemies. Another one of the Silhouette's odd pleasures, Savirien guessed as he ordered his warriors to form a circle around the dueling opponents, wide enough to give them space to fight but tight enough so as not to allow the Tamrielics to escape.
After his troops deployed according to his wishes, Savirien joined the ranks of Tsaesci warriors watching the battle. His attention was not given fully to the duel at hand however, Savirien also threw quick gazes over to the shore to see how the ambush force was faring. It seemed that the Tamrielics had somehow detected their troops hiding in the forest and were now arrayed in battle formation.
As soon as we are done with this pointless show of skill, I should announce the Silhouette that the Tamrielics are escaping. At least he will know that way that it was his fault that they did escape. Him and his pet, the beast, as well.
OCC: This is any awkward situation, though killing two of the three needed to kill Veric would be great on the Plys'Iea's resume (sp.) Maybe Veric has finished his spell and intervenes, I'd rather he does that than Rann and Amrita miraculously escape when they're surrounded.
(Plys'Iea)
He did not face the Altmer, now that he was alert he could dodge her magecraft. The Dunmer needed to be killed before the witch could be dealt with.
From an orismer's corpse he took a warhammer. The normally unwieldy weapon's grip clearly wasn't the right size.
Privately, the hunter disdained of such weapons, his staff had prefect balance, he would have to us his own weight to counter-balance......
Patholos
As dark skin scurried all over the shadowy image, Patholos found an opportunity to strike. He dodged two tele-magical (magic only visible through special fields of vision) cables as they shot through the rancid air, burying themselves into two snakemen. The man the snakemen were fighting gazed in awe as the two snakemen apparently floated into the air. Patholos disregarded the stunned man's noises, and became focused. The superfluous feelings began to fade as the state each assassin attains draws in. Patholos was one with his blade, he was the blade, and nothing else. The magically forged blade sang as it sliced through the air in a complex pattern, almost invisible because of the speed with which it flew. Patholos was within a step of the shadow, and the shadow had not taken notice yet. Without a sound, Patholos buried the blade to the hilt along the Trapezius Muscle Group, grinding down until the blade struck bone. The shadow made no noise or hint at any pain or recognition of the grievous would it had received. Patholos withdrew the blade and a fountain of black filth spewed forth out of the shoulder of the shadow. The Shadow turned, and Patholos watched as one of the magical cables shot towards him. Patholos dove out of the way and turned again to see the shadow approach.
The shadow started to fade again, but did not evaporate. Instead, the shadow made his hand into sharp metal, and charged Patholos. Parrying each blow drained Patholos's strength, most likely from the nature of magic the shadow was birthed from. Patholos was driven into a wall and one of the shadow's hands shot into Patholos's stomach, and lifted him up four feet off of the wall. Patholos coughed blood onto the shadow, which was absorbed in mere seconds. The shadow was darkening, and Patholos felt his life drain away. With a last effort, he sent his hand with his blade screaming across the neck of the shadow. The blade struck where the Carotid Artery would be, and black filth began gushing out. The shadow reeled and screamed, as it faded extremely rapidly. The shadow soon began to disappear, but Patholos could not watch his opponent, as he was down on all fours, slowly dying.
Patholos gasped and reached into his pouch for something that could help him survive a little longer. Patholos felt cork and pulled out what he though would be a restorative potion. What made Patholos laugh as he fell to his side was, that, in fact, it was a potion. The top half of a potion. Patholos started to shiver and he knew he was not long for the world. As he lay there, he wondered if by destroying the dark part of his soul, he doomed himself to a broken soul, shards cast away in the wind.
His blood ran in tiny rivulets around him, flowing through the cobblestone like tiny lines drawing a picture. Patholos slowly let the dark around his vision close in, he was tired of fighting....
OOC: Wondering if we need patholos anymore... wiling to let him die....
As dark skin scurried all over the shadowy image, Patholos found an opportunity to strike. He dodged two tele-magical (magic only visible through special fields of vision) cables as they shot through the rancid air, burying themselves into two snakemen. The man the snakemen were fighting gazed in awe as the two snakemen apparently floated into the air. Patholos disregarded the stunned man's noises, and became focused. The superfluous feelings began to fade as the state each assassin attains draws in. Patholos was one with his blade, he was the blade, and nothing else. The magically forged blade sang as it sliced through the air in a complex pattern, almost invisible because of the speed with which it flew. Patholos was within a step of the shadow, and the shadow had not taken notice yet. Without a sound, Patholos buried the blade to the hilt along the Trapezius Muscle Group, grinding down until the blade struck bone. The shadow made no noise or hint at any pain or recognition of the grievous would it had received. Patholos withdrew the blade and a fountain of black filth spewed forth out of the shoulder of the shadow. The Shadow turned, and Patholos watched as one of the magical cables shot towards him. Patholos dove out of the way and turned again to see the shadow approach.
The shadow started to fade again, but did not evaporate. Instead, the shadow made his hand into sharp metal, and charged Patholos. Parrying each blow drained Patholos's strength, most likely from the nature of magic the shadow was birthed from. Patholos was driven into a wall and one of the shadow's hands shot into Patholos's stomach, and lifted him up four feet off of the wall. Patholos coughed blood onto the shadow, which was absorbed in mere seconds. The shadow was darkening, and Patholos felt his life drain away. With a last effort, he sent his hand with his blade screaming across the neck of the shadow. The blade struck where the Carotid Artery would be, and black filth began gushing out. The shadow reeled and screamed, as it faded extremely rapidly. The shadow soon began to disappear, but Patholos could not watch his opponent, as he was down on all fours, slowly dying.
Patholos gasped and reached into his pouch for something that could help him survive a little longer. Patholos felt cork and pulled out what he though would be a restorative potion. What made Patholos laugh as he fell to his side was, that, in fact, it was a potion. The top half of a potion. Patholos started to shiver and he knew he was not long for the world. As he lay there, he wondered if by destroying the dark part of his soul, he doomed himself to a broken soul, shards cast away in the wind.
His blood ran in tiny rivulets around him, flowing through the cobblestone like tiny lines drawing a picture. Patholos slowly let the dark around his vision close in, he was tired of fighting....
OOC: Wondering if we need patholos anymore... wiling to let him die....
OOC: Rann isn't telepathic either. He can recieve telepathic messages when they are specifically meant to communicate to him and he can guard his mind from telepaths, but he cannot send any messages or read minds at will.
Rann
Rann was still a reasonable distance away from the Plys'Iea, who seemed to be his designated foe. When the reptilian creature paused to pick up a weapon, Rann scanned the area hoping to do the same. He spotted a dead snake-man clutching an Akaviri katana in its death grip. He pulled out the enchanted dagger given to him by Amrita and made short work of the tsaeci's scaly fingers by removing them.
The Plys'Iea had closed the distance considerably...
Rann threw his pathetic excuse for a sword at his oncoming enemy before wielding his new weapon. Surprisingly, the legends surrounding snake-men and their swords, just as with their skill, seemed to be completely true. The katana was light. Lighter even than the blade he had lost, which he used to favor for that very reason. On top of that, its edge was sharp and its balance flawless. He couldn't sense any enchantments on it, but at the same time, he knew even less about Akaviri magic than he did Tamrielic.
Voltar
Voltar's curiosity was piqued. "What are we intending to do with this spell? So far, the creature had yet to be truly harmed via magical means," he paused, "Of course, no one with significant intelligence has yet to use one upon that creature...".
Altair
"I don't plan on harming it in the least," Veric replied cryptically, "But I'll explain in a moment."
That moment passed quickly, as they both found themselves standing in the palace of Veric's own creation. Wandering down what looked like stone hallways, Veric led Voltar to a large room with bookshelves covering all wall space. There was an uncountable number of tomes, books, and scrolls on the shelves and in the center of the room sat a large wooden desk adorned with scattered papers, a candle, a quill, and an inkwell.
"Would you clear those papers for me, Voltar?" he asked as he walked towards a bookshelf to select the proper tome. It seemed as if he knew exactly what he was looking for, since it was the very first one he picked up.
He pulled a chair up to the desk and motioned for Voltar to sit in the seat opposite him.
"This spell," he said, opening the ancient book, "Can send a soul to Oblivion. I don't know much about the Silhouette's species to be honest, and I haven't been able to find much information, but I decided that I would be safe in assuming that it has a soul."
"That, however, is not our biggest problem. I don't just want to send that thing to Oblivion, I want to banish it there, trap it there, make it completely unable to return to the mortal realm, and I want to modify this spell to do just that."
Rann
Rann was still a reasonable distance away from the Plys'Iea, who seemed to be his designated foe. When the reptilian creature paused to pick up a weapon, Rann scanned the area hoping to do the same. He spotted a dead snake-man clutching an Akaviri katana in its death grip. He pulled out the enchanted dagger given to him by Amrita and made short work of the tsaeci's scaly fingers by removing them.
The Plys'Iea had closed the distance considerably...
Rann threw his pathetic excuse for a sword at his oncoming enemy before wielding his new weapon. Surprisingly, the legends surrounding snake-men and their swords, just as with their skill, seemed to be completely true. The katana was light. Lighter even than the blade he had lost, which he used to favor for that very reason. On top of that, its edge was sharp and its balance flawless. He couldn't sense any enchantments on it, but at the same time, he knew even less about Akaviri magic than he did Tamrielic.
QUOTE(The Metal Mallet @ Jan 11 2008, 01:58 AM)
Voltar
Voltar's curiosity was piqued. "What are we intending to do with this spell? So far, the creature had yet to be truly harmed via magical means," he paused, "Of course, no one with significant intelligence has yet to use one upon that creature...".
Altair
"I don't plan on harming it in the least," Veric replied cryptically, "But I'll explain in a moment."
That moment passed quickly, as they both found themselves standing in the palace of Veric's own creation. Wandering down what looked like stone hallways, Veric led Voltar to a large room with bookshelves covering all wall space. There was an uncountable number of tomes, books, and scrolls on the shelves and in the center of the room sat a large wooden desk adorned with scattered papers, a candle, a quill, and an inkwell.
"Would you clear those papers for me, Voltar?" he asked as he walked towards a bookshelf to select the proper tome. It seemed as if he knew exactly what he was looking for, since it was the very first one he picked up.
He pulled a chair up to the desk and motioned for Voltar to sit in the seat opposite him.
"This spell," he said, opening the ancient book, "Can send a soul to Oblivion. I don't know much about the Silhouette's species to be honest, and I haven't been able to find much information, but I decided that I would be safe in assuming that it has a soul."
"That, however, is not our biggest problem. I don't just want to send that thing to Oblivion, I want to banish it there, trap it there, make it completely unable to return to the mortal realm, and I want to modify this spell to do just that."
Mannimarco
The slithering tendrils of magic cast by Mannimarco careened throughout the shell Mannimarco was trying to occupy. Mannimarco was attempting to bind his soul to the body like the original soul was bound. It was more than just possession, Mannimarco was becoming the shell. The way his body started to hurt, his body, and the scar above the left shoulder from,..... a hunting accident? Yes, Mannimarco thought, the boar have skewered his shoulder when his back was turned. That was before his wife died. Mannimarco began to feel an emotion he had scarcely ever felt, sorrow. He quickly withdrew his magic and tied his soul into place, becoming the new soul for the shell. Time would ravage this shell quicker than regular mortals because of the uniqueness of the binding. A similar event occurs with the undead vampire, and the werewolf races. Each experiences time almost stop, however, once a mortal blow is struck or a weakness exploited, the vampires turn to dust, like the sands of time. Werewolves deteriorate at an alarming rate, most often three days before their corpses are destroyed.
Mannimarco felt for his magic energy, and it was dim and weak. Mannimarco had never possessed such a weak mortal, and for that matter, so weak in the arcane arts. Mannimarco had always found those adept in magic, trained them to their full potential, and then stolen their bodies. Mannimarco found that the Sload people actually lived for thousands of years by transferring their souls to other bodies. Mannimarco learned this, and became close to immortal. Mannimarco's original form was almost destroyed by the Mantella, the gem fueling the great giant Numidium. Mannimarco kept his body alive in stasis so he would one day be able to control the Mantella and ascend into Oblivion as a Daedric prince. But that dream seemed to be fading as he was scourged by Lord Dagon, doomed to Mundus until he could find a way to break the magical seal.
Mannimarco coughed one last fitful cough, and then sat back. Mannimarco sent a healing wave of magic throughout his body, restoring the torn muscle and perforated stomach in his new body. Mannimarco would have to manually adjust the magical flow into this shell. Mannimarco laid back against a rock and began the three hour long magical spell that would allow his body to absorb more magic, due to the nature of his soul. Mannimarco wondered if the seal Lord Dagon had given him would affect his total magic, he hoped not.
The slithering tendrils of magic cast by Mannimarco careened throughout the shell Mannimarco was trying to occupy. Mannimarco was attempting to bind his soul to the body like the original soul was bound. It was more than just possession, Mannimarco was becoming the shell. The way his body started to hurt, his body, and the scar above the left shoulder from,..... a hunting accident? Yes, Mannimarco thought, the boar have skewered his shoulder when his back was turned. That was before his wife died. Mannimarco began to feel an emotion he had scarcely ever felt, sorrow. He quickly withdrew his magic and tied his soul into place, becoming the new soul for the shell. Time would ravage this shell quicker than regular mortals because of the uniqueness of the binding. A similar event occurs with the undead vampire, and the werewolf races. Each experiences time almost stop, however, once a mortal blow is struck or a weakness exploited, the vampires turn to dust, like the sands of time. Werewolves deteriorate at an alarming rate, most often three days before their corpses are destroyed.
Mannimarco felt for his magic energy, and it was dim and weak. Mannimarco had never possessed such a weak mortal, and for that matter, so weak in the arcane arts. Mannimarco had always found those adept in magic, trained them to their full potential, and then stolen their bodies. Mannimarco found that the Sload people actually lived for thousands of years by transferring their souls to other bodies. Mannimarco learned this, and became close to immortal. Mannimarco's original form was almost destroyed by the Mantella, the gem fueling the great giant Numidium. Mannimarco kept his body alive in stasis so he would one day be able to control the Mantella and ascend into Oblivion as a Daedric prince. But that dream seemed to be fading as he was scourged by Lord Dagon, doomed to Mundus until he could find a way to break the magical seal.
Mannimarco coughed one last fitful cough, and then sat back. Mannimarco sent a healing wave of magic throughout his body, restoring the torn muscle and perforated stomach in his new body. Mannimarco would have to manually adjust the magical flow into this shell. Mannimarco laid back against a rock and began the three hour long magical spell that would allow his body to absorb more magic, due to the nature of his soul. Mannimarco wondered if the seal Lord Dagon had given him would affect his total magic, he hoped not.
The Silhouette, Battle
The Silhouette decided now was a good time to take action. He started shooting magic left and right at various defending soldiers. They fell down, dead instantly. He laughed as one fell forward and stabbed anothre one. An imperial battlemage shot fire at him. And with a simply swish, he was no longer solid and became a smoke like substance which the fire passed through harmlessly. He became solid again and fired a particularly nasty curse towards the battle mage. It was blocked, but the impact was too much and the explosion killed three others nearby. The magic overwhelmed the battlemage and he collapsed, dead, from exaustion.
"Now for you Tamrielic 'heroes', it is finally time I do what I sent Karn to do a very long while ago." he sneered and fired three curses aimed for Rann, Amrita and another soldier nearby...
Dalrus and the Mages Guild, Imperial City Isle
Dalrus and the leading mages saw him. Standing there slaughtering soldiers with simply flicks of his wrists. The Silhouette was in battle mode and nothing seemed to be standing in his way. Dalrus and the other mages prepared and started sprinting towards the water. When they reached the bank they three flashes of purple light, they were aimed towards two people Dalrus didn't know, and Rann! Dalrus knew she had to act, she still loved Rann and needed to stop it. "Protect the witch and the soldier, Vilius, help me protect Rann" she screamed as fast as she could.
Dalrus wasn't sure if the spell would work, a simple but strong protection spell, she wasn't sure which element, or if it was even an element native to Tamriel, but she wouldn't take the chance. She shouted the spell in unison with Vilius and the two spells flew towards Rann like giant glass shields. The Silhouette's curse hit the shields hard and the first shield collapsed, Vilius's. Vilius tumbled into the water, the water walking spell of course did not work on dead bodies. The impact of the spell was not as bad once it reached Dalrus's and she was a better mage than Vilius. She cringed as her magic fought against The Silhouette's diminished magic but as she thought she was about to die, a restore magic spell flew from one of the Healers. Dalrus regained her strength and the Silhouette's curse was stopped. All this had taken place in less than a few seconds, but Dalrus felt as if she had been fighting for hours.
The soldier and the two Mage's Guild members who had tried to protect him all lay dead in the water and on the ground. One of the mage's who protected Amrita was also dead but the other had gulped a restore magic spell as he fired off the protection and survived.
Dalrus and about 30 of the battle mages now reached the City Isle. They started battling with some Tsaeci mages and killing off many soldiers. Dalrus recieved a blast in the chest and many looked over, scared, had their leader died? There it was again, that curious sensation she seemed to recieve whenever smaller and medium sized spells were aimed at her. It seemed to sink into her skin, almost strengthen her. Of couse this was not true for most killing and explosive spells, but it always happened against less skilled or average opponants. Dalrus smiled and fired an orb of lightning at her opponant who collapsed.
"What do you need us to do?" she shouted over to some of the people in the thick of the battle"
The Silhouette decided now was a good time to take action. He started shooting magic left and right at various defending soldiers. They fell down, dead instantly. He laughed as one fell forward and stabbed anothre one. An imperial battlemage shot fire at him. And with a simply swish, he was no longer solid and became a smoke like substance which the fire passed through harmlessly. He became solid again and fired a particularly nasty curse towards the battle mage. It was blocked, but the impact was too much and the explosion killed three others nearby. The magic overwhelmed the battlemage and he collapsed, dead, from exaustion.
"Now for you Tamrielic 'heroes', it is finally time I do what I sent Karn to do a very long while ago." he sneered and fired three curses aimed for Rann, Amrita and another soldier nearby...
Dalrus and the Mages Guild, Imperial City Isle
Dalrus and the leading mages saw him. Standing there slaughtering soldiers with simply flicks of his wrists. The Silhouette was in battle mode and nothing seemed to be standing in his way. Dalrus and the other mages prepared and started sprinting towards the water. When they reached the bank they three flashes of purple light, they were aimed towards two people Dalrus didn't know, and Rann! Dalrus knew she had to act, she still loved Rann and needed to stop it. "Protect the witch and the soldier, Vilius, help me protect Rann" she screamed as fast as she could.
Dalrus wasn't sure if the spell would work, a simple but strong protection spell, she wasn't sure which element, or if it was even an element native to Tamriel, but she wouldn't take the chance. She shouted the spell in unison with Vilius and the two spells flew towards Rann like giant glass shields. The Silhouette's curse hit the shields hard and the first shield collapsed, Vilius's. Vilius tumbled into the water, the water walking spell of course did not work on dead bodies. The impact of the spell was not as bad once it reached Dalrus's and she was a better mage than Vilius. She cringed as her magic fought against The Silhouette's diminished magic but as she thought she was about to die, a restore magic spell flew from one of the Healers. Dalrus regained her strength and the Silhouette's curse was stopped. All this had taken place in less than a few seconds, but Dalrus felt as if she had been fighting for hours.
The soldier and the two Mage's Guild members who had tried to protect him all lay dead in the water and on the ground. One of the mage's who protected Amrita was also dead but the other had gulped a restore magic spell as he fired off the protection and survived.
Dalrus and about 30 of the battle mages now reached the City Isle. They started battling with some Tsaeci mages and killing off many soldiers. Dalrus recieved a blast in the chest and many looked over, scared, had their leader died? There it was again, that curious sensation she seemed to recieve whenever smaller and medium sized spells were aimed at her. It seemed to sink into her skin, almost strengthen her. Of couse this was not true for most killing and explosive spells, but it always happened against less skilled or average opponants. Dalrus smiled and fired an orb of lightning at her opponant who collapsed.
"What do you need us to do?" she shouted over to some of the people in the thick of the battle"
Rann
Rann paused dumbly for a moment when he noticed the spell hurled at him by the Silhouette. He stood even more dumbly when an unexplained shield appeared to counter it. He looked around for the origin of the rescue spell, and he couldn't have been more relieved when he saw who it was. He hadn't seen Dalrus for quite some time, and in the back of his mind, he'd been worried about what might have happened to her. There was no time for words, unfortunately, so he thanked her with a nod.
His mind was brought back to the present though, when he suddenly remembered that he was standing like a fool in front of a giant lizard that wanted nothing more than to kill a certain young dunmer. Rann hoped to disappoint it.
Rann paused dumbly for a moment when he noticed the spell hurled at him by the Silhouette. He stood even more dumbly when an unexplained shield appeared to counter it. He looked around for the origin of the rescue spell, and he couldn't have been more relieved when he saw who it was. He hadn't seen Dalrus for quite some time, and in the back of his mind, he'd been worried about what might have happened to her. There was no time for words, unfortunately, so he thanked her with a nod.
His mind was brought back to the present though, when he suddenly remembered that he was standing like a fool in front of a giant lizard that wanted nothing more than to kill a certain young dunmer. Rann hoped to disappoint it.
Amrita
Amrita had foolishly been too preoccupied with attacking the creature to see the curse being sent her way. By the time she sensed it, she was too late to react to it. Amazingly though, a shield spell encased her out of the blue and fended off the attack. She looked for the source of protection and found that a group of mages had arrived.
The snakemen surrounding them immediately began to fight against them and Amrita assisted in removing that thread.
"We need to get out of here and re-join the army!" Amrita shouted over the din of the battle.
Voltar
Voltar took the indicated seat and cleaned up the papers. He looked intently at the book, curious to the contents that were displayed on the open page.
He cracked his knuckles and neck. "Well let's begin then."
Amrita had foolishly been too preoccupied with attacking the creature to see the curse being sent her way. By the time she sensed it, she was too late to react to it. Amazingly though, a shield spell encased her out of the blue and fended off the attack. She looked for the source of protection and found that a group of mages had arrived.
The snakemen surrounding them immediately began to fight against them and Amrita assisted in removing that thread.
"We need to get out of here and re-join the army!" Amrita shouted over the din of the battle.
Voltar
Voltar took the indicated seat and cleaned up the papers. He looked intently at the book, curious to the contents that were displayed on the open page.
He cracked his knuckles and neck. "Well let's begin then."
Flint Ironwood.
With a great crack, the tree tipped over and fell down, flattening a good dozen snakemen. The others charged out of the black cloud now it had become evident that their ambush had failed. They fell upon the phalanx, each a whirling frenzy of swords.
,,Hold steady! Archers, fire!" Flint shouted.
He felt the ground rumble and closed his eyes for a moment as the balance of Magicka was torn apart.
,,Oh, crap. The big boss himself has joined." He thought. He looked about and decided that the army could deal effectively with the snakemen as long as they kept their formation.
,,Oh, I'm so going to regret this." He muttered as he passed on command and ran straigth towards the Silhouette.
,,Moment that guy does something, I'm going to jump and rain hell from above."
With a great crack, the tree tipped over and fell down, flattening a good dozen snakemen. The others charged out of the black cloud now it had become evident that their ambush had failed. They fell upon the phalanx, each a whirling frenzy of swords.
,,Hold steady! Archers, fire!" Flint shouted.
He felt the ground rumble and closed his eyes for a moment as the balance of Magicka was torn apart.
,,Oh, crap. The big boss himself has joined." He thought. He looked about and decided that the army could deal effectively with the snakemen as long as they kept their formation.
,,Oh, I'm so going to regret this." He muttered as he passed on command and ran straigth towards the Silhouette.
,,Moment that guy does something, I'm going to jump and rain hell from above."
Dan, near the phalanx on the other bank of the lake
Dan woke up after a short nap and looked around, confused as can be. After resting and regaining his strength in the raft he saw that they had already reached the other bank of the lake. The soldiers accompanying the refugees however were already under attack by the snakemen. Whirling their blades about in a frenzy of steel, it seemed to Dan as if they were hurling themselves towards the shield wall made by the soldiers protecting the rafts. The archers, both Akaviri and Tamrielic, were exchanging arrows fiercely, hails of wood and steel falling on both sides. The Akaviri archers however were safe under the cover of the trees while the Imperial archers were wide open on all sides.
Grabbing his longsword in a rushed motion, Dan ran off to join the shield wall and help with whatever he could. He saw the Breton mage nearby, the one who had helped him in the fight with the enemy champion. Dan however had no time for reuniting with old acquaintances. Raising Balmung, he merely passed the wizard, not even giving him a subtle nod of acknowledge. Right now, Dan was bent on slaying as many snakes as he could.
With a powerful strike of his sword he disemboweled one Serpent swordsman then dodged the lightning-fast strike of another. Dumbfounded to see that his blade had failed, the Snakeman's amazement was soon cut short by Dan, literally. His head sent rolling on the grass, Dan made his way further, slaying Akaviri as he went, trying to mend any breaches in the shield-wall.
Savirien, on City Isle with the Silhouette and the Plys' Iea
As Savirien looked on towards the battle, he saw his master firing three curses towards his enemies. Just when the curse seemed to shatter his enemies, magical shields magically appeared and stopped the curses. Surprised by the sudden casting of another spell, Savirien looked around only to see that new opponents had arrived. Clothed with nothing more than mere robes and some token pieces of armour, Savirien allowed himself a sharp Serpent smirk. Quickly flicking his forked tongue afterwards, he charged the new foes along with his troops, leaving the Silhouette and the Plys' Iea to continue their personal battle with the two Tamrielics.
Leaning down and coiling his tail, Savirien dodged a spell fired off by one of the robe-wearing enemies. Surprised to see that his spell had missed the Serpent, the mage cast another spell towards Savirien. With his tail coiled however, Savirien pushed himself forward, pouncing on the mage with great speed. The mage fell with Savirien on top of him. Before he could draw his own blade, Savirien hastily slit the mage's throat with the wakizashi he held at his side as a secondary weapon. Quickly rising to his full size afterwards, Savirien hung the freshly severed head of his opponent to one of the many hooks on the belt which ran across his breastplate.
Dan woke up after a short nap and looked around, confused as can be. After resting and regaining his strength in the raft he saw that they had already reached the other bank of the lake. The soldiers accompanying the refugees however were already under attack by the snakemen. Whirling their blades about in a frenzy of steel, it seemed to Dan as if they were hurling themselves towards the shield wall made by the soldiers protecting the rafts. The archers, both Akaviri and Tamrielic, were exchanging arrows fiercely, hails of wood and steel falling on both sides. The Akaviri archers however were safe under the cover of the trees while the Imperial archers were wide open on all sides.
Grabbing his longsword in a rushed motion, Dan ran off to join the shield wall and help with whatever he could. He saw the Breton mage nearby, the one who had helped him in the fight with the enemy champion. Dan however had no time for reuniting with old acquaintances. Raising Balmung, he merely passed the wizard, not even giving him a subtle nod of acknowledge. Right now, Dan was bent on slaying as many snakes as he could.
With a powerful strike of his sword he disemboweled one Serpent swordsman then dodged the lightning-fast strike of another. Dumbfounded to see that his blade had failed, the Snakeman's amazement was soon cut short by Dan, literally. His head sent rolling on the grass, Dan made his way further, slaying Akaviri as he went, trying to mend any breaches in the shield-wall.
Savirien, on City Isle with the Silhouette and the Plys' Iea
As Savirien looked on towards the battle, he saw his master firing three curses towards his enemies. Just when the curse seemed to shatter his enemies, magical shields magically appeared and stopped the curses. Surprised by the sudden casting of another spell, Savirien looked around only to see that new opponents had arrived. Clothed with nothing more than mere robes and some token pieces of armour, Savirien allowed himself a sharp Serpent smirk. Quickly flicking his forked tongue afterwards, he charged the new foes along with his troops, leaving the Silhouette and the Plys' Iea to continue their personal battle with the two Tamrielics.
Leaning down and coiling his tail, Savirien dodged a spell fired off by one of the robe-wearing enemies. Surprised to see that his spell had missed the Serpent, the mage cast another spell towards Savirien. With his tail coiled however, Savirien pushed himself forward, pouncing on the mage with great speed. The mage fell with Savirien on top of him. Before he could draw his own blade, Savirien hastily slit the mage's throat with the wakizashi he held at his side as a secondary weapon. Quickly rising to his full size afterwards, Savirien hung the freshly severed head of his opponent to one of the many hooks on the belt which ran across his breastplate.
OCC: Isn't Flint on the other side of the Lake from the Sil, helping the civilians?
By the way, did Green-Root tell Kalsh about the hidden tomes in Lake Rumare?
Plys'Iea
The sudden appearance of enemy mages only brought him to move one eye to scrutinize them. They're no threat, so long as they do not strike with lightning...... He brought his attention back to Rann, the hunter towered above the youth.
He was larger than any creature Tamriel had ever known, wielding an equally large, but crude, weapon. He brought the hammer up as if to slam it down on Rann, but suddenly pivoted and lashed out with a lightning-fast kick to the elf's chest.
Kirana
Kirana was never an avid user of swords, weapons in general, but there had been occassions in the past that merited use of a dagger or shortsword rather than spell and hand-to-hand combat. Ian's body was stronger and more graceful since vampirism had taken it, even with her limited knowledge in sword-wielding was absolutely lethal with vampire reflexes to supplement it.
She stood apart from the phalanx, lacking a shield or spear, and Kirana loathed to hunker down like the spearmen and archers. A Tsaesci charged at the vampire, wielding a dai-katana. Kirana crouched low and deflected the katana's diagnal swing with one wrist blade.
But rather than follow through with the other hand, she sprang up and kicked the snakeman on the side of his skull. While the snake was stunned, Kirana hopped over his tail and drove one blade through her opponent's spine.
By the way, did Green-Root tell Kalsh about the hidden tomes in Lake Rumare?
Plys'Iea
The sudden appearance of enemy mages only brought him to move one eye to scrutinize them. They're no threat, so long as they do not strike with lightning...... He brought his attention back to Rann, the hunter towered above the youth.
He was larger than any creature Tamriel had ever known, wielding an equally large, but crude, weapon. He brought the hammer up as if to slam it down on Rann, but suddenly pivoted and lashed out with a lightning-fast kick to the elf's chest.
Kirana
Kirana was never an avid user of swords, weapons in general, but there had been occassions in the past that merited use of a dagger or shortsword rather than spell and hand-to-hand combat. Ian's body was stronger and more graceful since vampirism had taken it, even with her limited knowledge in sword-wielding was absolutely lethal with vampire reflexes to supplement it.
She stood apart from the phalanx, lacking a shield or spear, and Kirana loathed to hunker down like the spearmen and archers. A Tsaesci charged at the vampire, wielding a dai-katana. Kirana crouched low and deflected the katana's diagnal swing with one wrist blade.
But rather than follow through with the other hand, she sprang up and kicked the snakeman on the side of his skull. While the snake was stunned, Kirana hopped over his tail and drove one blade through her opponent's spine.
Mannimarco
Across his forearms, Mannimarco drew the ancient runes from the days of the Ayleids, the runes imbued with the deep seated magic. Mannimarco suffered severely, as each rune was completed, the flesh which was the medium blackened and died. The scrawling script wound up each arm to the elbow, and Mannimarco had to pause, for the pain was immense. After a short break, Mannimarco began again, tracing with just his finger the outline of the runes and muttering their activation spell. Crimson spray erupted from the dead lines of flesh on his arms, and they became limp. A strange phenomenon occurred however, as two magical forms of his arms appeared. They had the same movement and restrictions as normal arms, but Mannimarco knew how to use these special arms to adjust the magical flow into one's body, manually affected one's will.
Mannimarco gasped as he began to fatigue, pools of sweat forming around the cotton shirt collar. Mannimarco was collected natural magic in each palm and trying to focus it into a giant pool in front of him. Each element of magic was present, as well as a small bit of life energy, most likely from animals dying in the forest and releasing the last bit of energy they have to send the soul from Mundus. Mannimarco was not as adept with this body, and he had just performed a full soul absorption moments earlier. With visible effort, Mannimarco started to mold a human form out of the magic he was collecting.
To bolster one's will in this manner, Mannimarco would need to strengthen his own soul, and then infuse the magic with his soul, thus allowing for more energy to be controlled. The stronger the soul, the stronger the will, and the stronger the will, the more mastery of magic is available. Mannimarco knew that this next step would take the rest of the afternoon, and he planned his failing strength accordingly.
Patholos
Slowly bleeding to death wasn't as painful as Patholos had imagined. Maybe it was the adrenaline that kept him alive, maybe he was already dead. Patholos attempted to turn from his side to his back to slow the bleeding, but found he had lost the feeling in his lower extremities. Patholos coughed another mouthful of blood out and watched it as it raced through the cracks in the cobblestone. As Patholos watched, he looked as far as his head would allow, and he saw that his Narza'Tai were done fighting, there were no more enemies with which to dance the dance of death. A smile crept over the ruined Assassin's face, and he relaxed, feeling at ease with himself.
OOC: Going to save him, sorry about the break in the flow.
Patholos was at home, sitting by the fire, drinking warm tea and talking with his family. Logothos and Etholos were still young, playing bones across the floor. His father walked in fresh from the hunt, and Patholos remembered the smell of deer blood about him. With simultaneous cries of surprise, the boys on the floor ran to their father, hugging him deeply. Patholos remembered his father's deep voice and Patholos responded to his father with a smile. Patholos's mother came down the stairs, muttering about magic, but Patholos knew she was about to make a very important discovery, one to rival the Dwemer. Suddenly...
Patholos felt himself swallow a ghastly liquid, and someone shout, "He's too far gone, leave him." An enchanting female voice shouted a retort, but his consciousness was leaving.
Patholos came to being dragged down a dusty path by a burly Nord and Redguard. They were garbed in the apparel of the Morrowind Army, but it was so bedraggled that it looked like a blacksmith's smock on the two. One other was there, in full Imperial Guard armor, but it did not fit her, her sleek Dark Elf frame seemed out of place in the armor. Patholos made the assumption that she had found the armor on a dead soldier and had not let it go to waste. Patholos looked down at his stomach as he was being dragged by the shoulders, and all that remained was a mass of pink scar tissue and the bloodstains on his robe. He was alive.
Across his forearms, Mannimarco drew the ancient runes from the days of the Ayleids, the runes imbued with the deep seated magic. Mannimarco suffered severely, as each rune was completed, the flesh which was the medium blackened and died. The scrawling script wound up each arm to the elbow, and Mannimarco had to pause, for the pain was immense. After a short break, Mannimarco began again, tracing with just his finger the outline of the runes and muttering their activation spell. Crimson spray erupted from the dead lines of flesh on his arms, and they became limp. A strange phenomenon occurred however, as two magical forms of his arms appeared. They had the same movement and restrictions as normal arms, but Mannimarco knew how to use these special arms to adjust the magical flow into one's body, manually affected one's will.
Mannimarco gasped as he began to fatigue, pools of sweat forming around the cotton shirt collar. Mannimarco was collected natural magic in each palm and trying to focus it into a giant pool in front of him. Each element of magic was present, as well as a small bit of life energy, most likely from animals dying in the forest and releasing the last bit of energy they have to send the soul from Mundus. Mannimarco was not as adept with this body, and he had just performed a full soul absorption moments earlier. With visible effort, Mannimarco started to mold a human form out of the magic he was collecting.
To bolster one's will in this manner, Mannimarco would need to strengthen his own soul, and then infuse the magic with his soul, thus allowing for more energy to be controlled. The stronger the soul, the stronger the will, and the stronger the will, the more mastery of magic is available. Mannimarco knew that this next step would take the rest of the afternoon, and he planned his failing strength accordingly.
Patholos
Slowly bleeding to death wasn't as painful as Patholos had imagined. Maybe it was the adrenaline that kept him alive, maybe he was already dead. Patholos attempted to turn from his side to his back to slow the bleeding, but found he had lost the feeling in his lower extremities. Patholos coughed another mouthful of blood out and watched it as it raced through the cracks in the cobblestone. As Patholos watched, he looked as far as his head would allow, and he saw that his Narza'Tai were done fighting, there were no more enemies with which to dance the dance of death. A smile crept over the ruined Assassin's face, and he relaxed, feeling at ease with himself.
OOC: Going to save him, sorry about the break in the flow.
Patholos was at home, sitting by the fire, drinking warm tea and talking with his family. Logothos and Etholos were still young, playing bones across the floor. His father walked in fresh from the hunt, and Patholos remembered the smell of deer blood about him. With simultaneous cries of surprise, the boys on the floor ran to their father, hugging him deeply. Patholos remembered his father's deep voice and Patholos responded to his father with a smile. Patholos's mother came down the stairs, muttering about magic, but Patholos knew she was about to make a very important discovery, one to rival the Dwemer. Suddenly...
Patholos felt himself swallow a ghastly liquid, and someone shout, "He's too far gone, leave him." An enchanting female voice shouted a retort, but his consciousness was leaving.
Patholos came to being dragged down a dusty path by a burly Nord and Redguard. They were garbed in the apparel of the Morrowind Army, but it was so bedraggled that it looked like a blacksmith's smock on the two. One other was there, in full Imperial Guard armor, but it did not fit her, her sleek Dark Elf frame seemed out of place in the armor. Patholos made the assumption that she had found the armor on a dead soldier and had not let it go to waste. Patholos looked down at his stomach as he was being dragged by the shoulders, and all that remained was a mass of pink scar tissue and the bloodstains on his robe. He was alive.
QUOTE(Lord Revan @ Jan 24 2008, 05:02 PM)
OCC: Isn't Flint on the other side of the Lake from the Sil, helping the civilians?
By the way, did Green-Root tell Kalsh about the hidden tomes in Lake Rumare?
Plys'Iea
The sudden appearance of enemy mages only brought him to move one eye to scrutinize them. They're no threat, so long as they do not strike with lightning...... He brought his attention back to Rann, the hunter towered above the youth.
He was larger than any creature Tamriel had ever known, wielding an equally large, but crude, weapon. He brought the hammer up as if to slam it down on Rann, but suddenly pivoted and lashed out with a lightning-fast kick to the elf's chest.
Rann
Rann dodged to the side, easily avoiding the falling hammer. There was a short moment of confusion as something equally as heavy-hitting slammed into his chest knocking the wind from him and sending him sprawling on the ground a few feet away.
He cursed himself for underestimating his foe, and therefore giving him an advantage at the very beginning of the fight. He quickly regained his footing and found that he had managed to hang on to his sword. His chest hurt, and his breaths were hard to come by, but Rann knew that it was just from the impact; he'd had a rib broken by this lizard before and this felt completely different.
Rann crouched low, facing the Plys'Iea, with his left hand planted on the ground and his right clutching his sword. In an instant he pounced, propelling himself in the air towards his enemy. His sword led the way with a horizontal slash that, if accurate, would strike across both of those piercing reptilian eyes.
Indor
Indor looked up at the knock on his room door. “Yes?” he said.
The innkeeper opened the door. “I know you said not to disturb you but… well things look bad,” the young imperial was white, “Since yesterday lunchtime the clouds of smoke above the Imperial City have got much thicker, a few Argonians came fleeing from it earlier. Said things looked grim there when they left. We’re abandoning Bleaker’s Way, it’s not safe. I suggest you join us.”
Indor cursed inwardly, he had studied though night but was still observing new things about the stone. He wanted to survive to finish his research though so said, “Thank you. I shall pack immediately.” The innkeeper left hurriedly.
Indor stashed the welkynd stone into his bag. It took no time to pack his few other belongings and pull on his thin leathers. He was at the door when he turned and put down his staff. He raked quickly though his bag and pulled out a pair of bracers. They were a little heavy but the dark metal was immensely hard. He fastened them on, if the Imperial City fell who knew what might happen? When he emerged the meagre population of Bleaker’s Way were milling about the main square. A dark shadow hung above the Imperial city, the occasional flicker of magic glowed under it.
“Snakemen,” an old Redguard said beside him shaking his head, “These are cursed times.”
“Perhaps…” mused Indor. There was so little written about the Tsaesci, so little known. “What are they?” he wondered.
“Devils,” said the Redguard, “Again the gods forsake us.”
Indor didn’t answer. So much to learn, surely he could at least take a peak then catch up with the villagers. They wouldn’t travel fast and he wouldn’t be seen. It was foolish but Akavir fascinated him, as did many things. He pondered a moment longer but knew he was already decided. He turned back to the Redguard, “I’m going to take a look,” he said.
He was already striding down the road when the Redguard called after him, “You’re mad dunmer.”
Curiosity had won.
Indor looked up at the knock on his room door. “Yes?” he said.
The innkeeper opened the door. “I know you said not to disturb you but… well things look bad,” the young imperial was white, “Since yesterday lunchtime the clouds of smoke above the Imperial City have got much thicker, a few Argonians came fleeing from it earlier. Said things looked grim there when they left. We’re abandoning Bleaker’s Way, it’s not safe. I suggest you join us.”
Indor cursed inwardly, he had studied though night but was still observing new things about the stone. He wanted to survive to finish his research though so said, “Thank you. I shall pack immediately.” The innkeeper left hurriedly.
Indor stashed the welkynd stone into his bag. It took no time to pack his few other belongings and pull on his thin leathers. He was at the door when he turned and put down his staff. He raked quickly though his bag and pulled out a pair of bracers. They were a little heavy but the dark metal was immensely hard. He fastened them on, if the Imperial City fell who knew what might happen? When he emerged the meagre population of Bleaker’s Way were milling about the main square. A dark shadow hung above the Imperial city, the occasional flicker of magic glowed under it.
“Snakemen,” an old Redguard said beside him shaking his head, “These are cursed times.”
“Perhaps…” mused Indor. There was so little written about the Tsaesci, so little known. “What are they?” he wondered.
“Devils,” said the Redguard, “Again the gods forsake us.”
Indor didn’t answer. So much to learn, surely he could at least take a peak then catch up with the villagers. They wouldn’t travel fast and he wouldn’t be seen. It was foolish but Akavir fascinated him, as did many things. He pondered a moment longer but knew he was already decided. He turned back to the Redguard, “I’m going to take a look,” he said.
He was already striding down the road when the Redguard called after him, “You’re mad dunmer.”
Curiosity had won.
Flint Ironwood.
Flint skidded to a halt at the edge of the water. The Silhouette had just killed several more mages. What was even worse, was the fact that he'd killed the mages through their own spells.
,,Aw, man. I'm not even a half-decent caster. He'll kill me in a heartbeat." The Breton thought. His eyes shifted towards the huge Argonian that had been showing everywhere recently.
,,Ok, buddy. This won't kill you, but......Silence!" Flint shouted and a soundless orb fled from his staff, towards the Plys'Iea.
,,Heh, you obviously don't rely on your eyes to see. So that leaves sound."
He turned and ran back to the phalanx. He still had an ambush to deal with.
,,And after that, some rest. Thank you very much."
OOC: I've been wondering about that for a while now. Can the Plys'Iea's spines be disabled with silence?
Flint skidded to a halt at the edge of the water. The Silhouette had just killed several more mages. What was even worse, was the fact that he'd killed the mages through their own spells.
,,Aw, man. I'm not even a half-decent caster. He'll kill me in a heartbeat." The Breton thought. His eyes shifted towards the huge Argonian that had been showing everywhere recently.
,,Ok, buddy. This won't kill you, but......Silence!" Flint shouted and a soundless orb fled from his staff, towards the Plys'Iea.
,,Heh, you obviously don't rely on your eyes to see. So that leaves sound."
He turned and ran back to the phalanx. He still had an ambush to deal with.
,,And after that, some rest. Thank you very much."
OOC: I've been wondering about that for a while now. Can the Plys'Iea's spines be disabled with silence?
OCC: I don't see why, but I won't let it hit him anyway. In some ways it's like an exagerated sense of touch........
Plys'Iea
At the same moment the Dunmer rebounded, a bolt of magic flew from the distance. On reflex, the hunter ducked and threw himself to the side, evading both strikes. Now that he occupied the hunter's former position, Rann was in danger of experiencing whatever effects the spell had.
Plys'Iea
At the same moment the Dunmer rebounded, a bolt of magic flew from the distance. On reflex, the hunter ducked and threw himself to the side, evading both strikes. Now that he occupied the hunter's former position, Rann was in danger of experiencing whatever effects the spell had.
OOC: since his spines don't talk, I don't see why they would need to be silenced. I think maybe you wanted some sort of deafening spell?
Rann
Rann hit empty air, and his efforts were rewarded with a magical impact. The effect of the spell did not seem to be harming him, so he chose to ignore it for the time being as he assumed a defensive stance, expecting the Plys'Iea to attack.
Rann
Rann hit empty air, and his efforts were rewarded with a magical impact. The effect of the spell did not seem to be harming him, so he chose to ignore it for the time being as he assumed a defensive stance, expecting the Plys'Iea to attack.
Patholos
Rousing from the murky state of unconsciousness he had recently been occupying, Patholos gathered in his surroundings. It looked as if the small group was in a burned out shell of a blacksmith's forge, however, the walls were falling in and the tools usually associated with a blacksmith were nowhere to be found. Patholos searched the dark and must forge for anything of use, his dagger having been left in the middle of the street. While searching, he accidentally broke a support beam for the wobbly roof, which caused it to come crashing down on top of the four. The Nord cursed in his native tongue and the Redguard went immediately to the dunmer buried beneath the worst of the rubble.
Patholos hurriedly ran over to the Redguard, who was frantically digging for the dunmer female. Patholos started to help and the Nord came over as well. Soon they could hear faint breathing, and the Redguard and the Nord started to dig faster. Patholos stood up to wipe his brow and noticed their surroundings without the roof to hamper their vision. Patholos watched unit after unit of snakemen move straight past the blacksmith's outer rubble. Patholos whispered to the Redguard, but he would not stop digging. Without the roof, the group was totally exposed, and Patholos knew he was not in the shape to fight.
After a few more nerve-wracking seconds, the dunmer emerged from the rubble, shaken, but relatively unharmed. Patholos heard a quick movement and soon felt cold metal against the nape of his neck. The pressure was strong, but not enough to cause bleeding. Patholos recited his recall spell enchanted on his dagger, and the Assassin's blade materialized in his left hand. A female voice said, "Drop it, and you may see the light of tomorrow." Patholos obliged and turned to face the dunmer female. She was beautiful, but the soot from the blacksmith's masked her beauty. Patholos said, "I meant no harm earlier, sorry about the roof."
Rousing from the murky state of unconsciousness he had recently been occupying, Patholos gathered in his surroundings. It looked as if the small group was in a burned out shell of a blacksmith's forge, however, the walls were falling in and the tools usually associated with a blacksmith were nowhere to be found. Patholos searched the dark and must forge for anything of use, his dagger having been left in the middle of the street. While searching, he accidentally broke a support beam for the wobbly roof, which caused it to come crashing down on top of the four. The Nord cursed in his native tongue and the Redguard went immediately to the dunmer buried beneath the worst of the rubble.
Patholos hurriedly ran over to the Redguard, who was frantically digging for the dunmer female. Patholos started to help and the Nord came over as well. Soon they could hear faint breathing, and the Redguard and the Nord started to dig faster. Patholos stood up to wipe his brow and noticed their surroundings without the roof to hamper their vision. Patholos watched unit after unit of snakemen move straight past the blacksmith's outer rubble. Patholos whispered to the Redguard, but he would not stop digging. Without the roof, the group was totally exposed, and Patholos knew he was not in the shape to fight.
After a few more nerve-wracking seconds, the dunmer emerged from the rubble, shaken, but relatively unharmed. Patholos heard a quick movement and soon felt cold metal against the nape of his neck. The pressure was strong, but not enough to cause bleeding. Patholos recited his recall spell enchanted on his dagger, and the Assassin's blade materialized in his left hand. A female voice said, "Drop it, and you may see the light of tomorrow." Patholos obliged and turned to face the dunmer female. She was beautiful, but the soot from the blacksmith's masked her beauty. Patholos said, "I meant no harm earlier, sorry about the roof."
(Plys'Iea)
The hunter despised warhammers, just as he dispised this world he'd been marooned on. He discarded the weapon, tossing it over the edge with one hand.
For several tense moments he simply glared down at Rann, standing inert. It almost seemed as if he was searching for something to say, but then the hunter grabbed a claymore, longsword to him, and hefted it.
*I prefer blades over hammers, anyway* "Dunmer, if you value your life now would be a good time to withdrawl like the others." The alien bellowed, inspecting his temporary weapon replacement.
Rahvin
Rahvin carried Brianna towards the rafts, and he could only hope that they hadn't all been taken already. There was some congestion as hundreds waited to board, and Rahvin feared that this huge group of people would make a good target. He didn't have much time to think about his fear, as Aerona shouted at him.
"Rahvin! Here!" she yelled, standing on one of the rafts waving her arms furiously. Rahvin boarded, laid Brianna down, and sat down for a short rest while the raft was launched
The raft floated along, doing its best to avoid the enemy's projectiles while Aerona worked to keep a shield spell active. Rahvin took a look towards the prison, and while he couldn't be sure, he thought he saw his son standing up there, facing another large figure.
Don't get left behind, Rann.
Rann
"Withdraw?" he asked, or rather, he tried to. His mouth moved, but no words came forth. Realizing suddenly that he had been hit with a silence spell, he smiled. Nothing important to him had been affected, except for his ability to participate in useless battle banter.
Since his words couldn't answer, his actions did. In one swift motion, he made as if to attack the left side of his opponent's neck with a slash angled downwards. He stopped short, though, and instead of hitting the exposed flesh of the Plys'Iea's neck, he spun around to its side for a potentially debilitating hit to the hamstring.
The move was a risk and Rann knew it; his entire left side was now left open, and the Plys'Iea could easily create a nasty hole in his side, knock him from the bridge, or both. On the other hand, if Rann succeeded, the Plys'Iea would be seriously handicapped and easily defeated.
Veric
Veric and Voltar poured over the pages of the tome, cross-referencing it with other tomes, books, and journals. So far, every modification they had tried failed. They had tried combining the spell with a dispel effect, preventing the subject from using its own magicka, but that did not prevent the subject from acquiring help. Veric knew from experience that such help was not hard to find in Oblivion, especially not for one so powerful as the Silhouette. There were many daedra, both greater and lesser, that would be willing to assist the Silhouette in scourging the mortal realm. He needed a way to trap the Silhouette there.
"Instead of merely transporting the Silhouette's entire form, maybe we could find a way to separate the soul from the body, and cause it to act like a daedra's soul. A Dremora, for example, when killed, does not experience death as we mortals do. The soul, or Animus, merely returns to Oblivion where it stays until it can recreate its physical form. That process can take hundreds of years."
He flipped the pages of a worn book on deadra that sat on the desk. "Here," he said, "Just as Sheogorath often utilizes shapeshifting magic to alter the phyisical form, Molag Bal went one step further. Here, let me read you this passage:
"The King of Rape, destruction, and chaos not only wants to bring misery to men and mer in the mortal realm, but also in his own plane of Oblivion. By harvesting mortal souls and changing their very properties as such, Molag Bal found a way to bring his most pleasing pastime of torturing Nirn's inhabitants home. It is unclear how the change is made, but it has been rumored that Molag Bal actually shaped the mortal souls to be more like the daedra's in nature; that they roam Oblivion until finally being able to re-coalesce into a physical form. It is also rumored that Molag Bal sends these re-formed mortals back to Nirn to wreak havoc. The mage Morian Zenas is said to have discovered the secret and divulged it in his work, Daedra Blood, but the existence of this tome is often disputed and has not been seen for at least an age, if at all."
Veric smiled, "I have the only copy of that book."
Rahvin carried Brianna towards the rafts, and he could only hope that they hadn't all been taken already. There was some congestion as hundreds waited to board, and Rahvin feared that this huge group of people would make a good target. He didn't have much time to think about his fear, as Aerona shouted at him.
"Rahvin! Here!" she yelled, standing on one of the rafts waving her arms furiously. Rahvin boarded, laid Brianna down, and sat down for a short rest while the raft was launched
The raft floated along, doing its best to avoid the enemy's projectiles while Aerona worked to keep a shield spell active. Rahvin took a look towards the prison, and while he couldn't be sure, he thought he saw his son standing up there, facing another large figure.
Don't get left behind, Rann.
Rann
"Withdraw?" he asked, or rather, he tried to. His mouth moved, but no words came forth. Realizing suddenly that he had been hit with a silence spell, he smiled. Nothing important to him had been affected, except for his ability to participate in useless battle banter.
Since his words couldn't answer, his actions did. In one swift motion, he made as if to attack the left side of his opponent's neck with a slash angled downwards. He stopped short, though, and instead of hitting the exposed flesh of the Plys'Iea's neck, he spun around to its side for a potentially debilitating hit to the hamstring.
The move was a risk and Rann knew it; his entire left side was now left open, and the Plys'Iea could easily create a nasty hole in his side, knock him from the bridge, or both. On the other hand, if Rann succeeded, the Plys'Iea would be seriously handicapped and easily defeated.
Veric
Veric and Voltar poured over the pages of the tome, cross-referencing it with other tomes, books, and journals. So far, every modification they had tried failed. They had tried combining the spell with a dispel effect, preventing the subject from using its own magicka, but that did not prevent the subject from acquiring help. Veric knew from experience that such help was not hard to find in Oblivion, especially not for one so powerful as the Silhouette. There were many daedra, both greater and lesser, that would be willing to assist the Silhouette in scourging the mortal realm. He needed a way to trap the Silhouette there.
"Instead of merely transporting the Silhouette's entire form, maybe we could find a way to separate the soul from the body, and cause it to act like a daedra's soul. A Dremora, for example, when killed, does not experience death as we mortals do. The soul, or Animus, merely returns to Oblivion where it stays until it can recreate its physical form. That process can take hundreds of years."
He flipped the pages of a worn book on deadra that sat on the desk. "Here," he said, "Just as Sheogorath often utilizes shapeshifting magic to alter the phyisical form, Molag Bal went one step further. Here, let me read you this passage:
"The King of Rape, destruction, and chaos not only wants to bring misery to men and mer in the mortal realm, but also in his own plane of Oblivion. By harvesting mortal souls and changing their very properties as such, Molag Bal found a way to bring his most pleasing pastime of torturing Nirn's inhabitants home. It is unclear how the change is made, but it has been rumored that Molag Bal actually shaped the mortal souls to be more like the daedra's in nature; that they roam Oblivion until finally being able to re-coalesce into a physical form. It is also rumored that Molag Bal sends these re-formed mortals back to Nirn to wreak havoc. The mage Morian Zenas is said to have discovered the secret and divulged it in his work, Daedra Blood, but the existence of this tome is often disputed and has not been seen for at least an age, if at all."
Veric smiled, "I have the only copy of that book."
OCC: For the next RP, I'll have the Plys'Iea in different armor, he'll be a little less invincible, but he'll finally have a helmet.
Plys'Iea
The blade smacked into the material between the armored plating. The hunter registered the blow but the anti-ballistics mesh rendered the strike harmless. He stared impassively into the Dunmer's eyes, You should have fled with your life and a chance to fight again.
Before Rann could pull his sword back the warrior planted one foot on it, forcing him to let go lest his fingers get crushed. The alien grabbed Rann by the shoulder and threw him back across the bridge to the gates of the Market District, and the flood of Akaviri soldiers.
Plys'Iea
The blade smacked into the material between the armored plating. The hunter registered the blow but the anti-ballistics mesh rendered the strike harmless. He stared impassively into the Dunmer's eyes, You should have fled with your life and a chance to fight again.
Before Rann could pull his sword back the warrior planted one foot on it, forcing him to let go lest his fingers get crushed. The alien grabbed Rann by the shoulder and threw him back across the bridge to the gates of the Market District, and the flood of Akaviri soldiers.
Rann
Though it was half-expected, Rann was surprised when he found himself flung like a ragdoll into an oncoming horde of Akaviri. He had lost his grip on his sword just before, and if the Plys'Iea hadn't knocked over three snakemen by throwing him, he probably would have been dead in seconds.
Rann had landed atop one of the tsaesci and before it could think to get up and fight, Rann had planted his dagger in its throat. At that same instant, another snakeman thought to sneak a quick jab at Rann. Knowing that the dagger would be insufficient to block the attack, he ignored it a opted for a katana instead. The scaly creature he was sitting atop of had dropped its weapon in its death throes, and the dunmer used that to its fullest advantage, meeting the attack with his new blade.
His arm pumping furiously, he defended attack after attack from the tsaesci, and barely managed to regain his footing. There was one problem, though. He was now fighting snakemen who were pushing him back towards the Plys'Iea. Remembering that Amrita had suggested rejoining the others, Rann decided to work towards that end now that his current fight was even more hopeless than before.
"Amrita!" he shouted, relieved to hear that the silence spell's effect had worn off, "Jump!"
He dove off the bridge, hitting the grassy hill and rolling down towards the water. It was a long distance to the rafts from there, but Rann figured that it was his only chance. When he was able to stand again, he looked back up, waiting for Amrita to follow.
Though it was half-expected, Rann was surprised when he found himself flung like a ragdoll into an oncoming horde of Akaviri. He had lost his grip on his sword just before, and if the Plys'Iea hadn't knocked over three snakemen by throwing him, he probably would have been dead in seconds.
Rann had landed atop one of the tsaesci and before it could think to get up and fight, Rann had planted his dagger in its throat. At that same instant, another snakeman thought to sneak a quick jab at Rann. Knowing that the dagger would be insufficient to block the attack, he ignored it a opted for a katana instead. The scaly creature he was sitting atop of had dropped its weapon in its death throes, and the dunmer used that to its fullest advantage, meeting the attack with his new blade.
His arm pumping furiously, he defended attack after attack from the tsaesci, and barely managed to regain his footing. There was one problem, though. He was now fighting snakemen who were pushing him back towards the Plys'Iea. Remembering that Amrita had suggested rejoining the others, Rann decided to work towards that end now that his current fight was even more hopeless than before.
"Amrita!" he shouted, relieved to hear that the silence spell's effect had worn off, "Jump!"
He dove off the bridge, hitting the grassy hill and rolling down towards the water. It was a long distance to the rafts from there, but Rann figured that it was his only chance. When he was able to stand again, he looked back up, waiting for Amrita to follow.
Amrita
Amrita quickly followed Rann's actions and blasted the snakemen in her way with a fireball as she ran to the bridge and leaped over it. Within moments she stood up beside Rann.
"Let's move!"
Amrita quickly followed Rann's actions and blasted the snakemen in her way with a fireball as she ran to the bridge and leaped over it. Within moments she stood up beside Rann.
"Let's move!"
Flint Ironwood.
It appeared that the battle was under control here. The Phalanx was too powerful to be breached and whenever a snake tried to flank the formation. Either an archer or Flint would be there to send it scurrying, with either an arrow or a telekinetic shockwave respectively. The mute warrior he met earlier was there as well.
Seeing how they'd lost this fight, the Akavirir commenced their retreat. Flint didn't doubt they would return later, but that was none of his concern.
,,Alright! Now is our chance! All civilians, disembark and take up the center of the formation! We're in for a long and hard march, so take only the absolute necessities! Don't get weighed down!" He ordered as he moved back and forth along the beach.
Back at the city, the battle against the monster Argonian was still in good swing. But as he watched, Rann and Amrita chose to escape.
,,Come on, folks. Hurry up." He muttered. He redirected his gaze at the tower that dominated the sky.
,,Say, did anyone see Altair and his aide? Two Altmer, one with a staff. Politicians. Can't miss them. So, anyone see them?" He asked over his shoulder. He knew that he hadn't, which worried him immensely.
,,If they die, I bet you'd be happy, Green-Root."
It appeared that the battle was under control here. The Phalanx was too powerful to be breached and whenever a snake tried to flank the formation. Either an archer or Flint would be there to send it scurrying, with either an arrow or a telekinetic shockwave respectively. The mute warrior he met earlier was there as well.
Seeing how they'd lost this fight, the Akavirir commenced their retreat. Flint didn't doubt they would return later, but that was none of his concern.
,,Alright! Now is our chance! All civilians, disembark and take up the center of the formation! We're in for a long and hard march, so take only the absolute necessities! Don't get weighed down!" He ordered as he moved back and forth along the beach.
Back at the city, the battle against the monster Argonian was still in good swing. But as he watched, Rann and Amrita chose to escape.
,,Come on, folks. Hurry up." He muttered. He redirected his gaze at the tower that dominated the sky.
,,Say, did anyone see Altair and his aide? Two Altmer, one with a staff. Politicians. Can't miss them. So, anyone see them?" He asked over his shoulder. He knew that he hadn't, which worried him immensely.
,,If they die, I bet you'd be happy, Green-Root."
Savirien, on City Isle with the Plys' Iea
The Tamrielic spell-casters proved to be bothersome at first, surprising his troops as they watched the duel between the best warriors of the Akaviri army and the best warriors of the Tamrielic one, yet, one by one, they slowly fell to the blades of his brave warriors. Some of the more powerful mages were literally buried under a mound of Serpents, both living and dead, thus being smothered to death in the end.
These odd seeds of men and their disdainful magicks. We've met them before however and they've felt the sting of our Katanas and of our Wakizashis. As their War-Leader fell to our Akaviri steel, so shall these foul spell-casters.
Savirien looked around the battlefield, surveying his troops. They were doing finely. The fact that they outnumbered the mages also helped immensely, as one mage had to deal effectively with more than six Akaviri warriors in order to survive. He had, thus far, gathered the severed heads of three mages, all hung by the hooks of the leather belt which ran across his chest. Savirien considered them to be fine foes, more powerful than the majority, thus he took their heads as trophies of his exploits. As he watched the battle however, he noticed that the dark-skinned Tamrielic along with the witch that accompanied him had somewhat escaped their champion, the Plys' Iea.
An impressive feat indeed. The Tamrielic warrior ransomed his life by fighting in such an impressive manner. Despite his rather odd appearance and way of doing battle, our beastly comrade does know what Akaviri honour is, unlike these foul creatures living on this island they call Tamriel. It is nothing like Akavir. Why did several generations of my ancestors try to conquer this land, when all I can see is a ruined city, long bereft of its glory, and several woodlands, not even fit for cutting down? Truly mysterious are the ways of our leader.
The Tamrielic spell-casters proved to be bothersome at first, surprising his troops as they watched the duel between the best warriors of the Akaviri army and the best warriors of the Tamrielic one, yet, one by one, they slowly fell to the blades of his brave warriors. Some of the more powerful mages were literally buried under a mound of Serpents, both living and dead, thus being smothered to death in the end.
These odd seeds of men and their disdainful magicks. We've met them before however and they've felt the sting of our Katanas and of our Wakizashis. As their War-Leader fell to our Akaviri steel, so shall these foul spell-casters.
Savirien looked around the battlefield, surveying his troops. They were doing finely. The fact that they outnumbered the mages also helped immensely, as one mage had to deal effectively with more than six Akaviri warriors in order to survive. He had, thus far, gathered the severed heads of three mages, all hung by the hooks of the leather belt which ran across his chest. Savirien considered them to be fine foes, more powerful than the majority, thus he took their heads as trophies of his exploits. As he watched the battle however, he noticed that the dark-skinned Tamrielic along with the witch that accompanied him had somewhat escaped their champion, the Plys' Iea.
An impressive feat indeed. The Tamrielic warrior ransomed his life by fighting in such an impressive manner. Despite his rather odd appearance and way of doing battle, our beastly comrade does know what Akaviri honour is, unlike these foul creatures living on this island they call Tamriel. It is nothing like Akavir. Why did several generations of my ancestors try to conquer this land, when all I can see is a ruined city, long bereft of its glory, and several woodlands, not even fit for cutting down? Truly mysterious are the ways of our leader.
QUOTE(The Metal Mallet @ Jan 31 2008, 01:27 AM)
Amrita
Amrita quickly followed Rann's actions and blasted the snakemen in her way with a fireball as she ran to the bridge and leaped over it. Within moments she stood up beside Rann.
"Let's move!"
Rann
Rann took one last second to give the Plys'Iea one last glare; a silent promise that they would fight again. He spat on the ground just as tsaesci archers started to rain arrows upon them.
Suddenly deciding to heed Amrita's words, he ran alongside her, trying to make it to the rafts. There couldn't be many left...
Brianna
She woke up as Rahvin put her down on the raft. Still a bit dizzy she looked around and saw Aerona struggle with the shield spell. Rahvin was staring at a certain direction... She rose to her feet, touched Rahvin's arm;
"Is it...Rann?" she whispered, more to herself than to him
Keep him safe, please
She realised she could do something here, she could help Aerona to maintain the shield, some magic powers should be left in her, if she just could focus enough.
She stood beside the vampire girl and did her best to strengthen the spell...then she spotted a girl who lept to the side of the young man who had to be her son....
"Rahvin....oh my god, is that....her???"
Is it possible there is some good in her? Amrita who I've feared for so long...but...but where's Satyana then, all my children are here, it just can't be true!
"Rahvin! There's hope for us, we could be a family again!"
Brianna felt strength ooze through her, more strength than she had felt for a long time
"I want to fight!!!" she shouted "I want to fight for my family"
She felt that this was what Serene would have done....her so strong mother....
She woke up as Rahvin put her down on the raft. Still a bit dizzy she looked around and saw Aerona struggle with the shield spell. Rahvin was staring at a certain direction... She rose to her feet, touched Rahvin's arm;
"Is it...Rann?" she whispered, more to herself than to him
Keep him safe, please
She realised she could do something here, she could help Aerona to maintain the shield, some magic powers should be left in her, if she just could focus enough.
She stood beside the vampire girl and did her best to strengthen the spell...then she spotted a girl who lept to the side of the young man who had to be her son....
"Rahvin....oh my god, is that....her???"
Is it possible there is some good in her? Amrita who I've feared for so long...but...but where's Satyana then, all my children are here, it just can't be true!
"Rahvin! There's hope for us, we could be a family again!"
Brianna felt strength ooze through her, more strength than she had felt for a long time
"I want to fight!!!" she shouted "I want to fight for my family"
She felt that this was what Serene would have done....her so strong mother....
Plys'Iea
He met the Dunmer's glare, then flipped the claymore around and sunk it deep into the soil of the mesa. The hunter grunted at the Akaviri nearby, some looking to him as if waiting for orders. "Do as you've been previously ordered."
They all thinned out, slithering away to their appointed tasks. The alien took the relative peace of the moment to reflect on the situation. I would rather be led than lead again. I know little of the Akaviri apart from their language and general mannerisms, not enough to be an officer.
He slid down the slope to the base of the mesa. The hunter came to rest not far from Savirien, one of the Akaviri generals. The decapitated heads on the general's chestplate barely earned a glance. "It seems the ambush failed after all." He hissed matter-of-factly, gazing at the torch-light of the surviving Tamrielics.
"I would not ask this from the War Leader, but where does this campaign go now? We have the Imperial City, but our force has been cut in half. With no disrespect to your forces, I don't think we can fully conquer this place with our standing force." The hunter glanced at the Akaviri.
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