| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
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| Into the Catacombs | |
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| Topic Started: Mon Nov 21, 2011 1:24 pm (223 Views) | |
| Godfrey | Mon Nov 21, 2011 1:24 pm Post #1 |
 
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The harsh chill of the mountain air shook the very bones of the warrior, but still, he proceeded towards his destination. Word had spread of a tomb, nestled high in the Gwilikith Mountain Range, stuffed with riches. Ancient Dwarven weapons and armor, mounds of gold, piles of iron, silver, and according to the man at the inn at the base of the mountains, a powerful blade capable of shocking its prey when swung. Naturally, Godfrey couldn't turn down such an opportunity. But with so much treasure lining the halls of the tomb, it was a safe bet that danger would be lurking around every corner, every nook and cranny. If he wished to leave the place in one piece, he'd need to be on his guard... So there he went, climbing up a series of stairs that seemed to go on forever, winding up and around the face of the mountain, stretching all the way to the very peak itself. He tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere, away from the winds that cut to his core like a razor, focusing on the task at hand and the riches that laid in wait for him, but something made him feel uneasy, as though he was being watched. Suddenly and without a moment's notice, a horrid, searing agony in his back caused him to stumble forward. Planting a hand on the ground to break his fall as he dropped to one knee, he seethed and clutched his right shoulder, feeling the wooden shaft of a crossbow bolt sticking out from his wound. He gripped it tightly, then ripped it out and threw it to the ground. He let out a loud curse, then quickly drew his fighting knives and spun around. His assailant, a lightly armored Drow, stood several yards away, snickering and loading another bolt into his hand crossbow. "It seems another seeks to claim the riches within the Dwarven catacombs. Sorry to disappoint, human, but the treasure is mine, and mine alone. You will die here this day, and the glory will be mine!" As he took aim, Godfrey charged, releasing a furious roar that echoed across the mountain. As the attacker fired his second shot, Godfrey ducked and rolled, then twirled around and attempted a slash at his throat. The agile dark elf merely leaned backwards, tossed his crossbow to the side, kneed the human in the gut, and drew his scimitar. Godfrey backed away, coughing and hacking from the impact. He snarled, then backed away a bit further to put distance between the two as he regained his footing. He twirled his weapons around, then quickly raised them to parry a flurry of strikes from his assailant. One slash made it past his defense, resulting in a deep cut down his side. Blood sprayed the snow beneath them, ran down the warrior's body. He gasped, then narrowed his eyes and yelled. Just as the drow closed in for another strike, Godfrey tossed his knives to the side and pulled both of his hands back. The drow leaped, raising the scimitar above his head with both hands, only to be greeted with fireball to his gut. The impact caused him to land hard on his back. He held his stomach tightly, squirming and writhing in agony. Godfrey snarled, then stepped to his injured opponent, reached down, and grabbed him by the throat with his left hand. Adrenaline flowed through his veins, and his wound seemed as if it didn't even bother him. He lifted the elf into the air, then clenched his right hand and shot it forward, blasting the poor soul's face with jet of flame. The dark elf didn't even have a chance to scream. His face lit up, his hair caught fire, and the skin slowly melted away as the flames consumed it. He tossed the near-dead elf off the mountain side, then collapsed, clutching his side. The wound was deep. Deeper than he'd expected. But still, he was determined to reach this tomb. The call of glory, fame and riches was too much to pass up, even in his weakened state. So he continued up the path, grabbing his knives along the way. The wound had slowed him down greatly, and unless he could find something to close it up when he arrived, he knew this tomb could end up being his final resting place as well... Edited by Godfrey, Mon Nov 21, 2011 3:42 pm.
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| Graham Sideas | Mon Nov 21, 2011 2:27 pm Post #2 |
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The necromancer felt weak, especially up in these mountains. Graham Sideas could only truly walk with the assistance of his servant, Lucius, and he could feel the cold wreaking destruction on his joints. Still, his patchwork corpse moved on, each inch of his flesh seamed perfectly. His eyes were barely able to focus as he moved on, often times he kept to his wraith sight more then his normal. His new body was rejecting him, his soul not being the true force meant to give it power. He hated the thing, and he wished there was a way for it to accept him. But he had to admit that it had certainly given him a few boons. Around him were twelve undead, including Lucius, and each one was armed and more intelligent then the undead he used to keep. Regardless of the weakness, of the pain of the wind, the walls of flesh around him brought a flicker of hope that perhaps his transformation had been worth it. But truly, that wasn't why he was here, to revel in what had changed in him. He was here to delve into the depths of the world, to try and discern some sort of secrets from the artifacts down there. Living creatures may have come for the treasure, but he was here for the artifacts, the books and the magical devices that were hidden below. He ran his weak fingers over the black orb that he kept within his cloak, the device that he had used to plant his soul into this pitiful body. Hopefully it would lead him to something, or one of the men caught within would. He let out a resigned sign and pressed on, his hand beginning to shake from the weight of the orb. "We will be within soon, my lord, and you can take solace in a bit of warmth." Graham turned his eyes to Lucius and noticed the smile across the undead's face. Sadly, while many of them were more intelligent, it had helped Lucius regain some of his memories. Graham hated the fact that Lucius had remembered his past, his real life. It was a part of his existence the necromancer wanted his son to forget, especially his final days. Thankfully nothing before them had popped up, however. He wouldn't wish to explain that to his servant, especially given his status as an experiment. The necromancer merely shrugged, "I feel not much of the cold, my body shakes from the work. I can barely hold a needle between two fingers. Even with the gifts I find this form painful and difficult to use. I must admit, I missed the cold. It is... purifying. It reminds me of my final days of life, those beautiful cleansing moments of death." The sound of battle cut short any retort from the undead, each and every creature around the necromancer drawing their weaponry. Graham's purple eyes scanned the horizon, and the tingle of magic in the air told him that there were others here, others who would likely know of these catacombs. He didn't even need to wave his hand, the very echo of his will sending the two fastest of his undead off, all four of their limbs pounding over the ground like feet. The draugr were a powerful breed of ghoul, he had to admit. The draugr closed in on the wounded man and stayed a good distance away, their mission being one simply of scouting. They kept their distance from one another as well, ensuring that if the man found them out and attempted to begin battle then he would be facing it from both sides. They circled him, the smell of blood bringing each of them to the brink of chaos in their minds. When the man had moved a good distance away from the dying elf the one closest to it's corpse grabbed it's ankle, dragging it away through the snow. The final moments of the dying creature would not be pleasant as more of the undead swarmed in upon it, predators to the weakened prey. Carrion to the dead. |
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| Diana Sin | Mon Nov 21, 2011 7:43 pm Post #3 |
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It was cold. As a Vampire, Diana could feel the cold but her body was not troubled by it quite as much as a living human would be. Of course, better to be on the safe side and keep warm bodies around her, like the worg Ash. Blocking off the hard mountain winds for her group was Solomon, the tall undead. Her tiny little flying force of Fira, Devi and Hope were struggling to not be tossed aside by the air currents, hovering close to their Vampire Mistress so she could grab them if they were blown away. Despite being out of civilized areas, and thus away from her food supply, Diana had brought them into the dangers of the wild for a very good reason: a treasure hunt. Diana always needed extra funding, and everyone had been telling rumors of an ancient dwarven treasure trove. Perhaps enough to afford a permanent home she could actually rest in, maybe some armor since she often got in so much combat. Sure, she could take the dwarven armor once she was there, but she didn't really like their style and she doubted they would have her size or even a style she could like. The sound of combat up ahead shook her up. She drew her blade, and kept moving towards the sound. She knew with the rumors being widespread she would not likely be the only one around here, but she was pretty sure she could handle most people who might stand in her way, unless someone like Emily stood in her way. But that was unlikely, even if she had met Emily in one of these mountains before. Moving closer, she found a man surrounded by two very familiar undead as a drow body was getting ripped apart. Surprised, she looked around and expected to see a certain phantom floating around and watching with the most mild of amusements as a drow was torn apart, but she didn't find Graham. But those were certainly two of his undead abominations playing around, she had fought them before. "Graham?" she called out, not really worried about the human now caught inbetween even more monstrous undead. Although it would be nice if she could grab a quick bite to eat before Graham's pets started playing with him. |
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| Godfrey | Tue Nov 22, 2011 12:52 am Post #4 |
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Godfrey scowled as the draugr descended upon him. Outnumbered and injured... His odds of survival were growing slimmer by the moment. He sheathed a knife, then slowly knelt down and gripped the hilt of the fallen drow's scimitar. He stared down his challengers, twirled his weapons around, and took a battle stance. He placed his left foot forward, and dug his right foot backwards into the snow, raising the scimitar in his right hand back with the blade pointed forwards while he raised his knife in front of him. Letting out a shuddered breath, he took a look around, scanning the area for any other immediate threats. By his count, there were at least eight, maybe more. If he would have been in a better state, he figured they wouldn't have been a problem. But the wound from the drow's scimitar was taking its toll, as he could feel the blood leaving his body. He was tired, and no doubt he would be sluggish. Perhaps... This mountainside will be my resting place... I won't go down without a fight... If I fall, so shall they. He narrowed his eyes, and pushed himself forward with his right foot, then rushed towards the first draugr in his path, slashing at its throat with his knife and following up with a spinning strike towards the base of its neck with the dead drow's scimitar. If he had to die, if this was his last stand, it would be one his foes would remember. Glory called, and he would answer with blood and steel. |
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| Graham Sideas | Tue Nov 22, 2011 2:33 am Post #5 |
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The draugr kept their distance, but the appearence of another figure had changed things a bit. Each and every undead had began to use their wraith sight, using the power of their undead master to track both the dead and living through the snow and the cold. Graham let out a sigh as he heard the voice, knowing that the situation had either been made a bit easier or a hell of a lot more difficult. He would decide which one as the situation evolved, however. "Fantastic... Lucius, please go forward with the ghouls." The undead did not respond, but simply let go of his master's arm and sped off as quickly as he could. Graham was left alone in the snow, but he was far from helpless. His eyes followed the black forms of the dead that moved over the frozen landscape, and the one dot of white that bled into the terrain, the one living form. The undead pressed on with a sigh and felt his legs shaking under the effort. For now they would need to deal with the strain, he mused. Nine of the undead began their chase of Godfrey, making a semi-circle that kept their distance from him from the direction they had come from, letting themselves occasionally come in close enough to reveal their leathery and stitched skin. The two that had tailed him already showed the signs of their morbid feast, each one hungering for more flesh of a newly deceased victim. The hunger would grow in all of them before the day was out, but for now they maintained order, their master's iron will overtaking all of them. The one that he had caught too close and attacked fought as best it could, but the assault took it. It's snarls were the only noise that came from it, the first cut barely being noticed but the spinning slash taking it's head from it's shoulders. A ghastly scream erupted from the head and the body wriggled and writhed, trying desperately to piece itself back together before it fell dead into the snow. It would rise again, the others knew. But not yet. Lucius and two of the draugr approached Diana, each one walking on two legs, unlike their battle-ready kin. Lucius held up his hand in a passive manner as they reached within ten feet of the vampire, his head cocking to the side, "Mistress Sin? It is good to see you, yet I fear you have come at an awkward time for my master." The two undead that were accompanying Lucius stepped a few paces behind him, their distance between Graham and Lucius now of equal length, each of them taking a step as their master approached. Graham kept the hood of his cloak high on his head as he stepped forward, each stride sending a shiver through his body. As he neared the undead they both assisted in his walking. His voice was very forced and harsh as he spoke, as if he were fighting against the wind itself, "It seems you always find yourself in complicated situations as it is, vampire. I assume the treasure has called to you as well." He turned his head back towards the white dot on the horizon, his will sending a shiver down the undead around him's spines as he sent out the next command. The undead around Godfrey began to charge, their fangs and claws shining brightly, even against the snow. The first of them bounded towards him as fast as it could, a claw and bite aiming for his throat with reckless abandon. Edited by Graham Sideas, Tue Nov 22, 2011 2:35 am.
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| Diana Sin | Tue Nov 22, 2011 3:18 am Post #6 |
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Eventually a familiar figure came to her to answer that call, and the master she had actually called for seemed to follow slowly behind. He seemed oddly slow, considering he was a phantom. Did Phantoms feel the push of the wind? She didn't think so, but it was not like she was an expert on the ethereal beings of the world. Meanwhile, his representative spoke of how she had picked an awkward time to meet Graham. Awkward how, exactly? "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she said. Graham's words made her feel a sense of dread. If he was after the same treasure she would have to fight him for it or split the treasure with her. Diana honestly had very few people in the world she could call friends, or at least non-hostile acquaintances, and Graham was one of those few people she had managed to not yet peeve off enough to earn his wrath. It would be quite the hastle to lose that non-aggressive status, especially when she was pretty sure he was quite powerful even if she had not fought him one on one. "I am," she decided to say honestly. "Never would have taken you for a treasure hunter, Graham, unless there is secret knowledge hidden among the wealth. Hope my hunting won't disturb any plans you have for it." While she kept her eyes on the hooded Graham, the little imp she shared sight with let those diabolical little eyes behold the battle, loving the chaos of conflict. "I can see your still letting your helpers play with anything they find. Brings back memories." She gave a slight chuckle at that, hoping to keep a lighthearted tone to the conversation. |
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| Godfrey | Tue Nov 22, 2011 9:32 pm Post #7 |
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The monstrosity fell before it even came close to the warrior's throat. Ichor spewed from its neck as its head was cleanly severed by the drow's scimitar. Godfrey let forth a bestial roar, and charged forward. As the next draugr came upon him it too met a swift end, receiving a slash across its throat and an enchanted knife in its cranium. The blade sunk through the skull, and plunged into its brain. As the pale warrior yanked his weapon from its 'sheath,' blood spurted from the top of the creature's head, and it fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. He would see them all die before him, this he swore. Like a lion backed into a corner, he fought savagely, desperately. The beast of a man was rife with rage, boiling with fury, and soon, the fire inside would manifest, relentlessly and without mercy. He proceeded to fight his way up the incline, each strike brought him closer to his goal. If he could just make it to the entrance of the tomb, he might make it out of this alive. There, numbers would mean nothing. He would slaughter them one by one as they came through the door. So onward he pushed, slicing and hacking through the creatures, caring not whether he killed them, as long as he could get past. One of the draugr managed to break past his defense, landing a blow on his chest, sending more of his crimson blood spattering on the snow. In the throes of blood lust as he was, he paid little heed, and quickly ended its miserable existence, or so he thought. The strike had angered the warrior, and he had reached his breaking point. As another draugr charged him, he let out a scream, and shoved the blade through it's throat, and kicked it to the ground, letting go of the hilt and simultaneously sheathing his fighting knife. At that, he thrust a fist to the sky, and quickly slammed it to the ground, letting out another booming roar... Soon, ominous, ashen clouds began swirling overhead, booming and thundering over the immediate area. The smell of sulfur grew thick, and the temperature grew unnaturally warm... As it steadily increased, the ebony clouds above began to swirl faster and faster. The snow began to melt, beads of sweat trickled down the stoic warrior's head, and then, for one brief moment, time seemed to stand still. Afterwards, after that one moment of calm before the storm, all hell broke loose. Fire rained from the swirling cloud, which quickly engulfed in flames. The furious tornado of fire touched the ground, Godfrey the epicenter. It twisted and turned, swirled and spun, gaining velocity and ferocity, before finally dispersing in a torrent of flame and ruin and fury... As the flames cleared, the warrior drew his fighting knives, ready to slaughter whatever remained after the fire storm. He flicked his wrist, causing a tendril of flame to shoot from the tip of one of the blades, then cracked it and brought it back, purposely grazing the wound left by the drow's sword, cauterizing it to halt further blood loss. The slash on his chest was shallow, so he didn't see a need to seal it up. |
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| Graham Sideas | Sun Nov 27, 2011 8:38 am Post #8 |
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Graham couldn't hold back a chuckle at the vampire trying to carry on casual conversation. He was never actually one to carry an opinion on people, but the vampire seemed like a decent enough creature. When they had first met she was still human, but her mind set was much akin to a multitude of cultists that the undead had met in his very long life. Easily manipulated, easily controlled through emotions, and obviously unstable. He would attempt to keep stability, for now, and get through this bloody creature that was killing his ghouls. The only response he could honestly muster was a smile that showed beneath his cowl, a stitch going from his lower lip to his chin and splitting two different tones of flesh with it, "You have proven yourself a competent warrior before it you wish to accompany me, I'm sure my.. helpers.. have left something to be desired with whatever that.. thing is.. higher on the slope." An obvious snarl was in his voice as he looked towards the living thing at the top of the slope. He honestly had no idea who it was, but once he found out about it his mannerisms wouldn't be much different. Rage, need to kill it, and the enjoyment that comes with toying with a foe who cannot truly hurt you. He could feel the tingle along his neck- a smile remaining on his face at the ability to feel- as the magic began to gather in the air. The swirling mass of clouds caused him to turn fully, and draw his hood back. His face was covered in a mass of stitches, his deep purple eyes the only part of his body that seemed to carry any vitality. His white hair was messy, as if it hadn't been tended in months, and fell all over him. He was much different from when he was a ghost, that corpse of a corpse that he had worn for years it seemed. The body he wore now wasn't even akin to the one he wore during his mortal days, he made a note. He had designed it after... a human? Not something he would ever equate himself with, he had to admit. But that mattered little. He focused his iron will upon one draugr which still lived, it's arm crippled by a rather powerful blow the man had sent after him, and the flames already burning at it like an oven. Graham's magics rolled over his lips and the creature's body fought to keep together as best as possible in the storm, enough of it being left for it to get onto two feet once the flames had diminished. Graham laughed again, "This should be an interesting counter, I suppose." The draugr rose to it's feet near the warrior, not waiting for it's body to get to operable levels before it began to dash towards the bald warrior. There were no eyes to show the beast's hunger left in it's head, but it was obvious in it's strides. As it neared the man, twenty yards, ten... gradually power began to build around it. Graham's voice seemed to boom from his lips, "Firith Estel.... Daro!" The draugr thought it's moment was near as it heard the booming voice of it's master, but if it had had a mind left at all it would know the words were the spelling of it's end. Negative energy began to well up from within it as it neared it's prey until it got close enough for it to work, and the power to overfill the body it was within. The draugr fell to four legs and bound for the man just in time for it's body to explode, negative energy exploding out from within it's body that quickly became giblets and liquid. Graham turned to the body of the elf that the man had killed earlier and waved his hands, muttering a few words for the creature to step up onto it's feet. A mindless undead would be better then none at all. He nodded, "Let's go see what's left of it." He walked on, Lucius quickly moving to take the arm of his master and try to keep him steadily on his feet. The drow was torn apart as it neared them, the draugr having done a number on their meal, but it was still able to walk. It would serve well enough as extra flesh were it to come down to such things, Graham had to admit. They pressed on, the occasional whisper of 'Ghandrihar' coming from the mindless undead as they neared the site of the battle, many of the draugr dragging their dead 'compatriots' out of the blast zone as best they could. |
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| Diana Sin | Mon Nov 28, 2011 3:04 am Post #9 |
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Diana felt relieved that Graham did see some use in her for now and did not oppose her joining him. Of course, what he then did eliminated any attempt at conversation as she took in the changes that had appeared in her 'old friend' since last time they met. Graham had taken physical bodies before, but this one seemed different, and certainly much weaker looking then Diana was used to seeing. What exactly had Graham been doing with himself? Why had he been walking here when he could have let the body go on it's own and gone floating by his helpers? She had a feeling something was up with Graham's change, but was it really her business to know? She could have shown of some of her own changes, but thought better then to give Graham some professional curiosity about the changes. It would be awful to be subjected to his experiments. As the man fighting Graham's undead fought for his life, and fought rather well, Graham took hold of one of the undead creatures and seemed to make it explode. "Well that's certainly different," she said aloud, and followed Graham to see if there was anything left of the poor human who had gotten caught up in Graham's path. She could not see how anyone mortal could have survived such a thing. "I suppose a lot has happened since last we met." |
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| Godfrey | Tue Nov 29, 2011 12:41 am Post #10 |
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The impact from the sudden explosion of the draugr sent him reeling back, but he refused to fall. Stubbornness would be his undoing. As he slowly got to his feet, those that looked upon him could see the true nature of his wounds. His chest sizzled and crackled with negative energy, as did his face. The left of which was left horribly disfigured. It looked as though someone had shoved the left side of his head into a blacksmith's forge. Smoke curled around his head and upper body, and the after a while, the pain became so intense that he had to drop to one bloodied knee. His whole body ached. He could feel his breath growing shallow. With a heavy exhale, he swayed back and forth, and hit the ground with a thud. He shuddered in agony as he looked up to the approaching figure, and a grim realization came to mind as he heard him speak. He knew this ghastly figure. The very aura of his minions should have tipped him off in the first place... It was none other than quite possibly his greatest foe on the face of Imythess... "Graham." He clenched his fists in the dirt as the name escaped his mouth, then growled and tried to force himself back up. He coughed up a good bit of blood, but managed to raise himself back to one knee. He gripped a fallen fighting knife in his right hand, cocking his arm back once it was firmly in his grip. |
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| Graham Sideas | Fri Dec 2, 2011 2:29 am Post #11 |
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There was a surge of emotion in Graham when he saw the sizzled and burned form of Godfrey before him. The first, of course, was the anger that the impetuous fool was still alive, but that was quickly replaced as a wicked smile crossed his patchwork face. He couldn't help but laugh, bounding forward to kick hard at the man's figure, a cackle surging through him over and over again, "Oh it is so good to see you again!" Graham clenched his fists together tightly, suppressing his emotions as he wished to slam his booted foot into the man's face until his skull collapsed, knowing that the anger would only take away resources that he could use later. The man was battered, to be sure, but not broken. Such resolve was something he could use, something he often looked for in the idiots who came knocking on his door, begging for death in the form of righteous words meaning to cast him away. He calmed his breathing as he turned towards the vampire, "It seems you had competition in your treasure hunt, one that would have likely given you a run for your money had I not been here. Luck is oft on your side, is it not?" He laughed again, backing a few feet away from the man as Lucius moved to stand at his front, his eyes angrily locked onto the man who had blasted the life from his corpse once before. Graham began to circle the man now, looking around to see that at least half a dozen of his undead were laying in the dirt with their lives taken. One of them, he'd admit, was because he used it as a bomb, but that was unimportant in his assessment. He tapped his fingernails against his leg as he walked, wondering how much it would take to repair the body the man was stubbornly attempting to remain in. A few bits of skin, maybe a few organs to be replaced. It wouldn't be difficult, but he wanted to keep him as in tact as possible. Then he looked towards Diana and a smile crossed his face. He ran a hand across his chin, "How much do you know of Necromancy, lass?" He had heard much of the regenerative powers of vampires, but it was something he had little first hand experience in. After all, he had never been one, and had never actually met one beyond Diana as far as he knew. He chuckled as he thought of what could happen were his work to mix with that of a vampires. Perhaps something ground breaking? Perhaps what he had been looking for all along? |
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| Diana Sin | Fri Dec 2, 2011 5:12 am Post #12 |
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As Diana came closer to what she had assumed would be a dead man, she saw that he had survived, much to her surprise. It was so amazing she could not help but laugh, even as she took notice that both the man and Graham apparently knew each other, and Graham showed just what kind of relationship the two had by kicking him when he was down. She had not seen Graham when he had specifically hated someone before, and it seemed today was the day for it. "I suppose," she said to Graham on his comment about her luck. Personally, she disagreed with his assumption that she would have needed help to take down a man like this. Of course, she did not need to boast of how powerful she was, because she already knew she was nothing compared to Graham. But she could not deny that, for a living man, he had certainly wreaked a lot of devastation on Graham's undead minions. "I am a beginner, to be perfectly honest," she said. "I know the basics and little more beyond that. I have only begun to study the arts, myself." It was a perfectly honest answer, as perhaps the most experience she had came from watching Graham work. Solomon had not been her creation, he merely happened to obey her after being abandoned by his own creator. "Why do you ask?" Though she was speaking to Graham, her eyes remained on the man. She had a feeling Graham planned wicked things for him, and she also had a feeling this was not the type of man to allow that. |
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| Godfrey | Sat Dec 3, 2011 4:11 am Post #13 |
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The casual conversation between the two before him just added insult to injury. He took a rough kick to the face, and fell to the ground once more, but he wasn't down for the count just yet. He slowly pushed himself back up to his knees, then looked up to Graham. "Of all the bastards that could've been on this mountain... It had to be you... Coward... You sicken me..." He coughed up a bit of blood, then wiped it from his mouth and spat at Graham's feet. He slowly attempted to pull himself to his feet, all the while preparing one last spell in the hopes that he could damage the necromancer. He knew his time was nigh, and he refused to go out as a coward. Though he would not be remembered, and surely his body would be used as a tool of ill intent, at least he would have satisfaction in knowing that he died honorably. As he forced himself to his feet, he spent the last ounce of energy he had, thrusting his hand forward, straight towards Graham's face, and unleashed a fireball. If he had to die here, he'd make damn sure the necromancer remembered his death. |
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| Graham Sideas | Mon Dec 5, 2011 1:08 am Post #14 |
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The act of defiance was commendable, but Graham took no satisfaction as the undead that he had risen on his way up the climb, the drow, took the blast for him. The clumsy movements of the infirm were quite easy for a man who operated on them to understand. He let the undead fall to the ground, making it a special point to step over the creature and let it burn for a while. It didn't seem to bother it much at any rate, and he wouldn't give it a second thought. Graham lifted one of his hands up to Godfrey's face level, his eyes seeming to read words or sigils that weren't truly there. His mind raced over the different ideas he could spring on the lad until he finally ran into one that pleased him enough. He pulled his hand to his chest, making it a point to remain silent until he felt his hand, "Morior, Godfrey." He ran the tips of his fingers along the man's face, not caring for any strikes that came at him. His body felt the surges of pain, at least a little, but they wouldn't be extreme enough to risk his life. He wasn't sure yet, but the body he wore now was quite resilient. He wasn't exactly sure it could be destroyed. He couldn't help but smile as the spell began it's devilish work, the flesh that he had touched along the man's face slowly turning black and dying, the deathly black growing more and more the longer it was allowed to exist. He took a step back and didn't look at the woman as he addressed her, "It won't be needed, I suppose. I doubt this churl will last much longer with that added onto the pile of injuries he's already obtained." He had only seen the effects of the spell once before, and last time it had turned the child into a rather blubbery pile of crying on the floor from what he could remember. He was hoping a bit deep inside that it would turn this irritating warrior for good into one such pile of blubbering tears. He looked towards his guardian, Lucius, and back towards the warrior. "You remember him, do you not? Of course you do, Godfrey. You killed him before, although I will admit it was just another death of many..." He rubbed his hands together as a wicked grin flashed over his face, feeling it only appropriate to include everyone, "Diana, my dear. Would it please you to help dear Lucius introduce this man to the open sky? I do so think it has been long enough they need to meet." He nodded to Lucius who moved forward, more then happy to do it alone, but glad for any assistance he could truthfully get. The creature's eyes locked onto the nearby cliff that made this climb as dangerous as it was. He could well imagine that the only cushion his most hated object would find at the bottom was a pile of skeletons, thick and ready to accept more into their fold. He imagined he could feel the touch of the wind as he began to wind back to throw. |
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| Diana Sin | Mon Dec 5, 2011 10:58 am Post #15 |
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Diana watched as the man attempted to make one last strike at Graham, and Graham simply put another body between himself and the attack. Naturally, Diana found herself amused as Graham made the rather risky decision to get closer. She had to wonder what exactly there was to this odd antagonism the two shared for each other. At last he stepped back as he spoke to her again, supposing it didn't really matter. It seemed Graham's primary undead bodyguard also had quite the grudge against this man, as he looked so eager to see him breath his final breath. And then Diana was offered the opportunity to help send the poor fool on his way if she so desired, and Diana gained a cold, cruel smile as she stared at the man. "Gladly," she replied. Oh, how would she send him tumbling down the cliff side toward what was most likely to be his doom? Only way to know was to start. Of course, as she stared, her eyes blood red, there was one idea that came to mind. Her eyes seemed to burn darker with power and suddenly two beams shot out from them, black and unholy things. If all went as it should the beams should have hit the man in the chest and sent him falling backwards if they caught him right, a great, searing pain where her blow struck. |
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6:07 PM May 22
