Author Topic: March of the Dead  (Read 8818 times)

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #15 on: December 19, 2008, 05:30:42 AM »
Glancing over at Ryos, Cyric blinked. Seeing that the mercenaries were a ways behind them, he spoke softly. "Do you recognize the mercenaries? Not their appearance. Do you recognize anything about them at all? Their attitudes? The way they work with each other?" Glancing to the side to catch the mercenaries in his peripheral vision, Cyric sighed. "I know them, somehow. I think there\'s magic involved in this. There\'s something unnatural about the way I recognize them."

The entire time, Cyric kept Nazyphir close to his side. He hadn\'t answered the Corpse King\'s question yet, not directly. What he was saying was that they could expect trouble from the mercenaries, but there was more. "We don\'t know who they really are. Maybe they\'re on our side, maybe they\'re on their own. Either way they might help us against the Empire. But they could be agents of the Empire, as well." Eyebrow twitching as frustration worked its way to the surface, "We can expect the dead, we can expect Empire soldiers, and we can realize that there is an unknown factor waiting to make its own move."

Trailing close behind them, Elena smiled. The odd thing was, Cyric could sense it. That was something else, something that he didn\'t want anyone to expect. Something was happening to Cyric. He was changing. So when he sensed Elena\'s smile, his teeth showed in a warning smile of his own. Then something strange happened again... he sensed her slowing down some to give him more space. Did she sense his smile the way he sensed hers? Elena had changed much in the past three years. Enough to warrant more caution than the mercenaries.

As they continued ahead, Cyric kept a hand on the hilt of his sword. Elena did likewise.

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #16 on: December 19, 2008, 07:20:43 AM »
"Ahh... the dead... Nasty cretons there are, eh?" he murmered to himself more than to Cyric. He\'d come across thousands in his life... some more dead than others, and that was how he preferred them to be perfectly honest. The dead were a menace in many regions of the world, and his...long existance, he had worked up a few counters to the ugly, smelly buggers. He reached up and stroked the soft mane of the lizard, "Some old friends of ours aren\'t they?" The lizard let out a croak and hissed violently.

Nazyphir chuckled and looked at Cyric, his smile was of a different amusement, scanning the horizon quickly, he did not see anything out of the ordinary, but on an impulse he looked over his shoulder, glancing back and seeing Elana, hand on her sword, and then looked back at Cyric who was exactly the same, both appeared tense...

On a whim, he turned briskly, striding towards Elana in a way that would give anyone that idea that he meant harm, his hands reaching into his robes to his swords, but just as he would have pulled them for an attack, which he feinged with a movement of his shoulders, he brushed passed her to speak with Asher.

Offline Kysis

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #17 on: December 27, 2008, 01:50:59 AM »
Ryos shook his head slightly.  He did not recognize the mercenaries or their mannerisms.  Then again, he had not been allowed much leeway yet from the Order, not allowed to go as far out in the range as many of the men constantly did.  This mission would be different.  There were no commands from his order involved, so he was free to merely follow the whim of the knighthood.

When he had worked with others of his ilk, others of the Order, they had been in absolute synchronization, working perfectly in unison, for the same goals, on the same thread of thought.  It was frightfully efficient, when those tandem missions did come into play, however rare.

This group was the exact opposite.

Ryos knew full well that he did not trust a soul with them other than Cyric, and maybe, Elena, seeing as she too was a paladin.  The others were a completely different matter.

Passing beneath a patch of deep shadows again, Ryos seemed to vanish entirely, scouting further ahead.  These Knights of the Vale, in service of the Corpse King, were still not part of his trust circle.  Ryos would rather his own eyes be able to see these issues first, lest someone in the group not be properly informed of the enemy.
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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #18 on: December 27, 2008, 02:50:29 PM »
(Had a really long post, seriously, two pages, and a fourth of another, so I split it into this and another, longer one. So Just react, keep moving for now, and we\'ll have some fun shortly!)

Elena\'s hand stopped Nazyphir. It wasn\'t an aggressive move, just her arm reaching out in front of him as he stepped past her. She back-stepped as she did it, so her arm wouldn\'t actually touch Nazyphir.

"You don\'t want to play games with me Corpse King." She spoke softly and with a smile, but her eyes were cold with silent rage. "I\'ve served Darkwatch my entire life, one way or another. No one crosses me and lives, unless they\'re stopping me to give new orders."

Cyric sighed, turning towards the two. He had seen the look on Ryos\' face before he left scouting again. This entire mission was hopeless. Three paladins, one incomplete, one a vampiric knight and one obviously well over the edge. With them? An ancient lord and his minions, and two mercenaries who might not even be loyal to the coin paying them.

"If anyone threatens anyone, if anyone kills anyone, it\'ll be at my hand. Elena, take point. I\'ll stand in the middle of this infernal circus." Cyric stayed calm. There wasn\'t really anything else he could do. He needed Nazyphir and he couldn\'t betray a fellow paladin. Not quite yet. It wasn\'t time for taking sides, they weren\'t close enough... He wasn\'t complete yet.

The entire time the two mercenaries stood idly by. Since Cyric had to stop the group or leave Elena and Nazyphir behind, they too had decided to stop. Neither looked impressed. In fact, neither looked anything. They merely kept speaking to each other every so often, keeping their eyes on their surroundings. Obviously such petty squabbling was above them. Seeing how everyone was just as dangerous as the next, Cyric waved them over to walk with him. Keep you enemies close, right? He was laughing inside.

So that left Nazyphir\'s minions out scouting, Ryos at the real point of the group, Elena out of Nazyphir\'s way, and Cyric stuck between the only two people who looked like they didn\'t mind being there. The human mercenary even gave him an appreciative nod to show he liked the way Cyric just kept everyone from killing each other.

MythsAndLegends

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #19 on: December 29, 2008, 05:48:53 AM »
(short post xD)

"Yes girl, you may have served Darkwatch all your life, a measly, what thirty years at best? But I have served the Vale for centuries, and then Illyria for centuries before, and then even the Five Kingdoms of Pentos and my own homeland for several before that, you would be wise to reconsider your threats, I have no problem with you, and do not presume I do," Nazyphir stated before Cyric separated them.

He then turned to Cyric, eying him with a tad bit of scrutiny, "You know there is something wrong with her. She is far too edgy. Of all of them here, I trust her the least, the mercenaries at least have a reason for any sort of betrayal that they might be plotting, they are... after all, mercenaries."

He thumbed the end of his swords on both sides of his hips and then wandered off and added in a near-whisper with a wink, "And remind her, you can\'t kill the undying."

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #20 on: January 09, 2009, 02:40:26 AM »
Ryos kept in front of the group, flitting here and there in the shadows, always listening with his keen ears, watching with his crimson eyes, smelling with his finely tuned nose.  If there was undead, he would definitely notice them.

Behind him, he could hear what Cyric said, could feel the distrust in the group.  Ryos glanced back over his armored shoulder, only a quick check to be sure no one had drawn their weapons, before going back to his scouting.

To him, this mission seemed doomed already.

((sorry it\'s so short.  Not really much for Ryos to do, though))
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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #21 on: January 09, 2009, 08:14:18 AM »
Without warning, the world around them exploded. At least, that was what it looked like to Cyric. Chunks of dirt and stone pelted them and trees burst, splinters the size of swords screaming by them. It was strange, how the ground beneath them seemed to rise as the forest around them was ripped to shreds. Then the first corpse rose up, unholy darkness consuming the light around it. Through the strong scent of earth the stench of parched flesh filled the air.

When Cyric had warned everyone that they could expect the undead, he had expected petty zombies and skeletal warriors. Rising out of the chaos around them were two of his least favorite abomination. Dragons. Twenty-five feet snout to tail of reanimated dragon flesh, each. Cyric hoped they couldn\'t fly or breath fire anymore, and did the only thing he could. He cursed as loud as he could while blindly swinging his sword at the closest snout. His sword never made it.

Essentially, he had set himself up without knowing it. With a mercenary right at Cyric\'s side, there was nothing he could do as his arms were pinned behind his back and the mercenary bound them with magic. He was stronger than Cyric had expected, and the mercenary had the element of surprise. Even if the mercenary had let Cyric fight, what was the point? What, not even a dozen armed men against not one, but two dragons that weren\'t as prone to dying as they usually would have been? Their element of surprise was stripped away, just as thoroughly as the ground around them. Hopefully Ryos and the others were still alright. If they had been far away enough, the explosions wouldn\'t have maimed them too badly.

The dragons he could figure out. The mercenaries had planned ahead and set the trap, likely both of them were actually Imperial Necromancers. That would explain the odd sensations he had whenever he looked at them. They were disguised. What Cyric couldn\'t figure out was how Elena had been stupid enough to pick not one, but two Empire spies to join their ranks. Was she under a spell? That would explain her odd behavior... but she seemed in control. Too calm and measured to be under anyone\'s control but her own.

And then it hit him. Elena had a birthmark on her forehead, something she always used to rub at. The habit had irritated Cyric to no end. It had bothered him more than her mothering him all the time, despite his years of seniority over her. She had always claimed that the birthmark was nothing special, and she had always wanted to have it removed. It had been in the shape of what looked to be two swords crossed. It had been what earned her the nickname of soul blade to her friends. Soul mates were a rarity and dream for farm girls before they got married off to the next best farm boy. A soul blade was a warriors true partner. Not just for life. Cyric himself had considered many paladins soul blades, and to this day he still remembered the faces and names of each, no matter how long ago they had died.

This Elena, standing here now, had that birthmark alright, but it had that same strange aura of disguise. It, like her, was fake. The two mercenaries had managed to get in not by tricking her, but by serving her. Cyric didn\'t have one, or two spies in his group. He had three. If his arms had been free, he would have killed something; anything.

"So is anyone going to tell me real names, or do I have to start guessing?"

The false Elena laughed, a chilling laugh that stole the heat from Cyric\'s body. How could he have been fooled so easily? Cyric wondered where the second mercenary had slipped away to.

"The mercenaries are generals in your pathetic Order of Mareur. I was surprised that their disguises managed to fool your young friend, Ryos, so easily. He would know them by the names of Ismael and Zulfikar. Fine fellows. I was happy to help them dissent from Darkwatch. Although, like yourself, I wonder where Ismael has wandered off to." The dissenter, Zulfikar, maintained his composure as he continued holding Cyric. He had a knife drawn and on Cyric\'s throat.

While the dissenter maintained his composure and disguise, the Elena look-alike began to unravel her disguise as she circled around Cyric. Strand by strand blond hair fell from a head now swathed in rich black hair. Red eyes calmly gazed over him, as if picking a place to strike. "I didn\'t want to trip my trap so soon, so close to your precious capital, but I\'m afraid you\'re heading the wrong way. We can\'t go to Fyric quite yet." Smilingly sweetly, "You may call me M\'jera. I apologize for stealing the appearance of your precious friend. It really was too easy though. Elena went and disappeared on a mission a couple years ago... and everyone seemed happy enough when she came wandering back home..." M\'jera shrugged. "I had a scroll to disguise me back then. This Zulfikar\'s spells are much more... effective... A pity I forgot to tell him of the birthmark until after the spell had been cast. You did notice, didn\'t you. I saw it in your eyes." Her smile widened, sharp white teeth clicking softly in admonishment. "You didn\'t even remember her, did you? Didn\'t remember how she was your wife\'s soul blade. How the two of them were inseparable friends. How Elena only became so nurturing towards you after Isabel died..."

"Enough" Cyric\'s hands were bound, but his cold expression spoke of the murder that would soon be done.

"Enough?" M\'jera blinked. "But I\'ve only just begun-"

"-and all things must end. If you turn the first page of a book, it is inevitable, that one day, someone will turn the last page. If you want this to end well, stop now. Stop playing games, stop breathing if need be, but stop."

"I already know how this ends. I think it ends very well for me. I use you, I kill you, I complete the rest of my mission. I\'ll be rewarded, and you\'ll be food for the worms. But enough of that-"

"Even if that\'s true, it will end one day. You can\'t live forever. Many have tried. It takes intelligence and effort far beyond what you are capable of. I\'ll give you a thousand years before your carcass is feeding the next wasteland buzzard." Cyric smiled, pleased with the picture. He couldn\'t believe that he was within arm\'s reach of an Arbiter and he couldn\'t even lift his sword against her.

"Is that so?" M\'jera turned towards Nazyphir. "What about you, Corpse King? You, like me, have been around for hundreds of years already. You would do well as an Arbiter for the Empire, helping to shape the civilized pockets of Fyric. Helping to dominate, and thus control and reshape the known world. I know you rarely take interest in such affairs, but all these fools do is wage war on each other. Don\'t you think it\'s time we took the reigns from them?"

Black lightning wound itself around M\'jera\'s fingers. She had heard Nazyphir\'s remark about killing the undying. M\'jera, had no intention of killing the Corpse King. If he didn\'t cooperate, banishment would be his sad fate. What a waste that would be. The Count had taken a real interest in the Corpse King. Like Nazyphir, the Count had long-since passed his time of death. Several thousand years had passed since Count Ulden Castevl died at the hands of the fell lord of Delminion, Fyric Lyvain.

***


Ismael brushed away the false disguise Zulfikar had cast over him. He had tolerated the infernal magic for long enough, and like M\'jera, was frustrated for having to spring his plan so soon. He had readily agreed to help M\'jera when she had found him. What else was he supposed to do? She would have killed him. Of course, he had hoped he could convince his friend Zulfikar to join him, but the elven mage couldn\'t be swayed from his decision. Like M\'jera, the elf wanted Darkwatch to crumble.

If he could find Ryos, then he\'d still have a chance with his plan. The two Mareur Knights could easily follow the group and free Cyric when the time was right.

MythsAndLegends

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #22 on: January 09, 2009, 09:00:33 AM »
Nazyphir watched calmly as the undead dragons tore themselves from the ground. He had, for the most part, smelled them or something of undead nature, from quite a ways off and had been preparing for it to show itself. It just happened to be two dragons. Oh well, things could always get worse… and as usual they did, but not in a very surprising manner.

   He had seen one of the mercenaries wander off earlier, and had dismissed it at first, but as events unfolded he figured that either the man had lost his nerve or was off to do Ryos in if possible. He’d likely find out before the day was over, and it was very likely as well, that not all of them would be left standing, but he intended to be one who was.

   He reached his hand up to his shoulder, rubbing under the chin of the lizard softly as the Elena-person talked to Cyric. It would do him little good to rush into anything without first finding out what was going on. So he waited, figuring that Cyric would be alright. And if not, well then, he’d just turn around, go back to Darkwatch or even just go home.

   He listened half-heartedly, watching out of the corner of his eye at the dragons, which didn’t seem to do much but mill around waiting for commands. They would have to go first, before they caused too many problems and he was putting together a plan. Slowly but surely it was forming. He had not lived for so long without gaining some knowledge of how to deal with problems.

   Leaning his head over to the lizard he whispered to it: “Let’s show them what you can really do my friend, Rajzak’s Cataclysm. You know how it goes.”

   His name caught his attention and he turned towards Elana again, who had turned to be some upstart named M’jera or something and he was not totally surprised at her offer. It seemed that the enemy always offered to let you join them, but that didn’t always go well. The one thing wrong with her plan was, Nazyphir did not feel the same way. He believed that people deserved their freedom, but required a bit of government to watch over the big picture, and that was how he had ruled the Vale for centuries.

   He lowered his hand to his side, letting the lizard sit there, waiting for any commands as he strode towards M’jera, “You are right, I do despise working with people like this, and I do think that the world needs to be reshaped under a common governing body. Your offer would be satisfactory.”

   He pulled off his glove, revealing his bare right hand, the fake skin temporarily covering what was beneath. He extended that hand for her, to seal the deal so to speak.

   You are a fool girl to believe that anyone can rule the whole world. A government could only rule so much before things got beyond their power. That will be the downfall of your empire.

   “Arbiter it is then? I like the sound of that… Arbiter Lokkur – has a nice ring to it. You will of course, see to it that the Vale is left alone. I’m certain that the way I run it will fit in nicely with how your Empire works.”

   He made his face blank, showing almost no emotion, aside from what could be considered a cold disdain as he quickly glanced at Cyric, feigning a look of utter hatred.  Someone would be dead soon… but he could not discern who…

Offline Kysis

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #23 on: January 16, 2009, 06:18:49 AM »
Ryos\' keen ears heard the explosion of dirt behind him just as he was hit with a wave of the stench.  It was undead flesh.  His crimson eyes widened and he spun on an armored heel.  A lump formed in his throat, his stomach too.

What a scout he was.  He could not even sense what was behind him.  Ryos could not tell when had come out yet, only that it was either large, or there were many of them.  Either way, it did not look good.  Slowly, he took a step forward, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword.  The pommel started to glow, quickly, so he moved his hand up the wire wrapped hilt, covering the radiant gem with his gloved fingers.

That was when he heard, very faintly, footsteps.  One of the mercenaries? Ryos turned his gaze, scanning the man with surprise.

"General!" Ryos looked frantically from Ismael to where the others would be.  His hands trembled faintly. "What\'s going on?  Why are you..." The mercenaries.  There had been something off about them, and now he knew what.  Illusion. "What happened to loyalty and honor?!"

Ryos drew his sword, it\'s sitting comfortably in his hand, tip of the gleaming blade still pointed down.  It was taking all of his will to keep himself from attacking, or from running back to the others, though any warning, he felt would be far too late.
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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #24 on: January 16, 2009, 08:33:15 AM »
Ismael refrained from drawing his own blade. "I have always been, and always will be, loyal to the Maybon clan. Darkwatch offered me the role of General, or death. M\'jera offered me partnership, or death. The Maybon clan has always served me well, as a family, and I have always returned their affections and respect in full." The seriousness of his expression didn\'t lessen with a smile. If anything, Ismael only looked more fierce.

Taking a bold step towards Ryos, Ismael raised a hand and pointed in the direction of the others. "Cyric won\'t be harmed until he\'s no longer of any use, so we have time. He will, however, be subject to quite the ordeal. Elena died several years ago. The cursed harpy back there is the Arbiter M\'jera. She\'s not exactly following orders to the point, but she is acting on said orders to make Cyric do something. She never really explained to me what... it probably has something to do with the magic of the Sword. She mentioned the Temple of Pandemonium... recruited Zulfikar and myself to help her." Eyebrows coming together, Ismael let out a low growl. "General Zulfikar wants Darkwatch to burn. We can\'t count on his help."

Taking another bold step towards Ryos, Ismael finally rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Of course, I wonder if I can even count on your help. We can\'t rush in and save them. M\'jera\'s not only a powerful warrior, but an adept magess. Zulfikar isn\'t without his own talents, either. You\'ve seen his magic at work before. He helped create some of the tasks in your trial..." The sad truth was, Zulfikar didn\'t create the tasks to worm out the weak. Zulfikar was one of the few who worked on the trials who was actually trying to kill all the wraiths. Ryos was one of a few who made it through that year. "So are you willing to work with a dissenting General, to help save your friend?"

***


Dipping slightly into a formal bow, M\'jera tapped a finger to her forehead and then waved it towards the ground. "To become an arbiter, we must first find you an arbiter to replace." She had someone in mind, of course. With the Corpse King\'s talents it could certainly be done... but of course, she knew he had no intention of helping her. She had something in mind for that, too. It would have to wait though. She had to play her part as the ignorant demoness seeking to claim power for her beloved Empire.

Acting confused by Nazyphir’s extended hand, M’jera waved it away and started circling. “We’re heading North then. I know you’d probably prefer to become an arbiter right away Lokkur... if you don’t kind me calling you that, but the Emperor has given me a rather important mission.” M’jera turned her cold gaze on Cyric. “Our beloved Cyric here, has to help me open the Temple of Pandemonium.”

Cyric laughed in M’jera’s face as she drew closer. “Pandemonium? That temple is a ruin. All you’ll find there is rubble and starved abominations.” Pursing his lips, Cyric silently mused to himself about how M’jera would fit in quite well at the temple.

Glaring, M’jera turned and walked over to Nazyphir again. “We have awhile to fix his attitude. He’ll do what he has to, and then we’ll be free to return to Fyric.” She hoped Nazyphir knew what the Temple was. It was directly tied into ancient magics, something he might be familiar with. She herself knew a lot of its history before she ever joined the Empire. More importantly, the temple was where Dal’Fal was forged.

“So Lokkur. Does this all seem... feasible?” M’jera asked innocently, while scratching one of the dragons under the chin. They would be her eyes and ears. An armored escort that could move swiftly above or below, through darkened clouds or dank tunnels. If Cyric escaped, or anyone tried to free him, her pets would quickly collect him, and feast upon his companions. She assumed that the Corpse King could dispatch the dragons with his blades and minions. However, it would not be an easy task. Not when M’jera could simply reanimate them, or Zulfikar could summon a swarm of meteors down upon them. Everything was in a careful balance now.

What it really came down to, was how long they could keep up this game of pretense.

MythsAndLegends

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #25 on: January 20, 2009, 02:17:13 AM »
"Ahhh, M\'jera... Your pets are certainly quite impressive. But I think that, despite their power, they have nothing more than mere brute strength to them. That is more than most things are capable of, but unfortunately, they are animated through magic," Nazyphir frowned at M\'jera, "On the other hand, my little friend here, he is a good boy, and he has something to show you.”

Nazyphir’s hand moved lightning fast to the hilt of Dawn strapped to his back, and as he did, the lizard reared up hissing violently as the talons on its hands shot thin beams of golden light into the sky, everywhere they went, they left a trail in the air. The lizard wove intricate patterns faster than even Nazyphir’s practiced eyes could follow.

The blade slid free of the scabbard with a glorious ring, and he brought it across his body in a massive swing, the ground rippling beneath the immense blade. The event unfolded within a span of four seconds, and with the blade drawn, he faced M’jera again.

“Alright, now that he has shown you what he can do, we’ll reassess the situation, within this prison of light, no magic will function effectively within here, your pets are worthless to you, and your filthy necromancer will have little power. You, I do not think have the skill to defeat me when I can tip the scales in whichever direction I deem fit…. “ He smiled, and after a pause, spoke again.

“Let the negotiations begin.”

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #26 on: March 24, 2009, 08:31:03 AM »
Ryos\' hand started to shake.  Loyalty was not a thing up to opinion.  Either you were loyal, or you were not.  The Maybon Clan.  Ryos closed his crimson eyes for a moment, jaw tense, body just as much, as he stood there, listening to the General.

If it had been anyone else, if he had not been part of the Order of Mareur, Ryos never would have given the time of day, let him speak.  It would have been battle, then and there, even though he was certain the man was more powerful than him.  Ryos had loyalty, though, to Darkwatch, the Order of Mareur, the Generals therein. So he listened, the plot unfolding before him made him feel sick deep inside, but at the same time, it was a chance.

Just as it was serve or die for the General in those respects, now seemed one of those serve or die situations.  Ryos knew he didn\'t have much time to make his decision.  Someone was bound to notice the "mercenary\'s" absence any moment now.

"I agree." The words were grated out, seething through pale, pursed lips. "I will go along this, but I swear, on my honor, that if you defect, serve evil and injustice, I will do everything in my power to end your plans and your life."

Ryos meant every word of it, and he hoped the General realized that.  It was a risk he was taking.  Another risk, was sheathing his sword, which he did now, crimson gaze falling to the ground.
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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #27 on: April 02, 2009, 09:14:48 AM »
"Charming." M\'jera yawned. "What happens if I fail to release dear Cyric and I simply decide to fight you? Zulfikar\'s holding spell can last long past his death... it\'s hard to say for sure how long. Perhaps an hour, perhaps a year? A decade? How long until our darling paladin goes mad? You see, Zulfikar doesn\'t rely on magic alone. He\'s learned a few tricks from me. Our power comes from the deities. If they wish the holding spell to continue indefinitely, it is completely up to them."

Spinning around in place with a mischievous smile, "You\'ll have to destroy my body and trap my soul. If you leave either, they can bring me back." Glancing at Zulfikar, "My friend here won\'t be as fortunate, but his spirit can be forced into a golem or relic. He\'d made a wonderful enchanted sword, don\'t you think?" With M\'jera, there was no telling truth from bluff. Sometimes, even she wondered if she was actually right or not.

M\'jera blinked. Idea after idea ran through her mind until she settled on one. "The lights are very pretty, but what happens when tons of rotted flesh drop through it?" Snapping her fingers, one of the dragons answered with a roar and took flight. Gobs of flesh shed to the ground as its\' massive body twisted in the air, and with a final raspy shriek, it dived directly at the prison of woven lights.

Waiting below, M\'jera had a slender sword in each hand as she continued spinning; dancing in the unearthly glow.

***


Ismael nodded and took a step back. "We move quickly, and quietly. If we kill them, there\'s no guarantee they\'ll release Cyric from whatever bonds they\'ve placed on him. We can sort that out later. A cleric, a relic, something will release him if their deaths won\'t suffice." Ismael\'s words trailed off as he noticed the light through the trees. A mass of light? That sounded nothing like what M\'jera had described to him. They had to get closer.

"Quietly now. Something\'s amiss."

Without waiting, Ismael started off. Either the arbiter had other tricks up her sleeve, or someone else had done something to alter the situation. He slowed down as he approached the tree line, quickly slipping behind some of the debris. Through the mounds of broken ground and tree splinters, he could see it. It was a prison of light. Were they all inside it? Hearing the dragon\'s roar, Ismael looked up just in time to see one of the undead behemoths dive for the globe of light. Everyone except the dragons.

MythsAndLegends

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Re: March of the Dead
« Reply #28 on: April 02, 2009, 11:11:57 PM »
Nazyphir looked up as the dragon dropped to the ground, attempting to disrupt the light shield around them. He had absolutely no clue what would happen when a creature animated by magic tried to slam through a shield made to destroy and hamper magic. Likely it would fall apart, but then the no-longer-animated parts of the beast would fall through and destroy the shield… or so he figured. He did no know for certain what would happen, but his best guess was that both would not survive.

He turned back to M’jera as the dragon smashed through the shield, ignoring whatever effects it may have or may not have had, and then glanced towards Cyric, “You’re right. I’m not certain what I’m even doing here. I don’t care for these people at all.” With a quick motion he once more slid the massive sword onto his back and secured it. “You can have them, and I will leave.”

Nazyphir turned on his heels and walked in the opposite direction, not knowing exactly what he would do right now, but he had many little plans circulating through his mind at that exact moment. Nazyphir wasn’t all together certain that M’jera even knew about the rest of the party out in the forests surrounding the area, or whether they even survived. Oh well! He kept walking. Something would come to him sooner or later.