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| A Type of Self-Destruction (Ch 1, OTA) | |
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| Topic Started: Sat Oct 31, 2009 7:02 am (216 Views) | |
| Krieger Bach | Sat Oct 31, 2009 7:02 am Post #1 |
 
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Krieger Bach, once a joyous paladin who fought evil primarily to keep his family safe, at the result of failing the one task he wished of himself, his wife dying and his son missing, Krieger Bach set off on a one-man crusade of killing all evils he could, whether or not they were related to the death of his family, he was going to make sure they paid for acts done to others. It was his self-destruction, and it gave a birth to a desire to not simply kill the dark forces which roamed through Chaon, but to do it slowly, it brought a momentary joy to his being, and he would never show his pain. The beaten paladin with oddly shaped and fake eyes figured one of the best places to start was Menzobarrenzen, a center for drow, a naturally evil race that hid away underground, giving sacrifices to whatever deity they worship, a perfect beginning. Where he would go after the drow city, success or failure, he didn’t know, he just knew it would contain some sort of evil. If he could see in the inky black darkness of the tunnels, he might have a better chance of catching any beings lurking in the shadows, the natural ability to sense alignment would be his way of knowing who to kill, and somehow he knew his sense would go into overdrive within shot of the underground city, whether it be earshot or eyeshot, he would just need to figure out who to start with, his mace ready at his side. His hand started twitching, it wanted to use the tool of combat to end something, it wasn’t a feeling the paladin enjoyed, but it was sure to change when confronted with actual evils. He gave an uneasy smile beneath the collar which hid everything below his eyes, he wasn’t even sure of what he was doing, but he figured if he killed enough evil, he would at least close the gap between this life and access to his wife in the afterlife. He stopped moving at the echoing sounds of footsteps, the tunnels were alien to him, the result of past defensive actions against evil, whatever being made the noise was outside of range for him to know its alignment, but whatever it was, he would stand ready. He quickly maneuvered his hand to his mace in preperation for evil. |
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| Rithroc | Tue Nov 3, 2009 6:35 am Post #2 |
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Rithroc patrolled as silently as possible along the deep, high-ceiling caverns, his blade sheathed and his dark-colored tunic and skin blending nicely with the blackness that surrounded him, and contrasting his long, alabaster hair beautifully. He was tall, and carried his muscular figure confidently in his march. To most races, the sight of an armed Dark Elf was an ominous one. The Dark Elves, masters of combat, treachery, and even Death Himself, are known across Imythess as figures of the night, graceful and brutal simultaneously in their assaults. In the Dark Lands, the ebony-skinned fae ruled the barren caverns, and those who would believe the terrifying myths spun by surface elves, would only meet one, to find their beliefs realized, and their lives swiftly ended. Rithroc, a noble among citizens of Menzoberranzan, was the epitome of the terrors that haunt the dreams of those drow-fearing surface-dwellers. He had no qualms in killing his own family to further his own retched goals, which almost made the hatred he felt for his treacherous brother humorous. He had enough skill with a blade, and enough disregard for life to cut down his foes like a dandelion in the park. Something to note, perhaps the only thing to note, when traveling the Dark Lands is to never, under any circumstances, get caught, because, once a Dark Elf has made you his prey, there is no escape. Perhaps the foolish creature of the light was unaware of this rule of survival, perhaps he had a death wish. Whatever his poison, the Dark Elf who stalked him had no doubts that blood would spill by his blade this evening. Rithroc drew his blade of Life's bane, and felt its draining magic ripple into effect, as luminescent fungi that lined the cavern walls began to limp and discolor, dimming what little light existed in the tunnels significantly. If this wasn't a clue to his presence, the Dark Elf didn't know what was. |
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| Krieger Bach | Wed Nov 4, 2009 12:04 am Post #3 |
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He could sense it, the feeling of evil echoing as sound would off of the dark tunnel walls that led to a center of evil. A grin slipped its way to his mouth behind his collar, there was evil lurking about, and he was prepared for the fight to go either way. He was fully ready, pulling the mace from his side, holding it with a loose hand, prepared to put his full strength behind the blow to his enemy. This was going to turn fun for him. He looked around, even fully realizing it was a bit hopeless, but he could hear the echoing sounds of a blade being drawn, it must have been a drow, alerted to his presence. The false eyes in his head made it difficult for Bach to see in these dark tunnels, but he still knew how to fight, he just needed an idea of where to aim, the tunnels not exactly being a place for much dodging. Of course, chances here weren’t exactly slim that the possible drow in the tunnel with him could see in the darkness, a severe advantage in any encounter, being able to see the full area. Though it wasn’t the only advantage. “Come on…” The paladin said under his breath, his whole body seeming ready for a fight, his mind recalling a particularly catchy song he heard a band play in a tavern, very upbeat, it seemed to help get his body limbered up for an encounter. “Where are you? Come on… Come die…” He continued to look around with futility, his arm bouncing the mace up and down a bit. He couldn’t exactly stay in one place forever, he chose a direction, took a few steps, then swung his mace, taking a random guess at where the drow was. |
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| Rithroc | Wed Nov 4, 2009 6:55 am Post #4 |
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Rithroc smirked as his eyes, which viewed his environment through the infrared spectrum, detected the movement of the towering human's arm. As Rithroc was now easily within range of the Paladin's mace, he could see now that perhaps the human male wasn't such a pushover afterall. In stature, he hovered an easy several inches above his Dark Elf adversary's head, and his frame was stockier, and clearly possessed more muscle than the lithe Athlano son. Rithroc knew, however, that size hardly measured prowess, and he was able to easily defend himself from the crushing head of the Paladin's shaft, bringing up the blade of his own weapon to clang noisily against his prey's. He pivoted backwards a step, preparing for the next attack. He enjoyed toying with his enemies after all. What fun is a one-sided fight? What fun is being able to strike, without, in turn, parrying, evading, avoiding. The warrior never suspected the mettle that such a chaotic man might carry with him. There are certain things more intimidating than an enticed Dark Elf, more dangerous than a loaded gun. The darkness capable of eating away at the heart of man is a darkness more vile than that which entombs the Dark Lands, more deadly than the enchanted edge of Rithroc's unholy blade, flashing dangerously close to its prey's flesh, eager to dig in and turn it to dust. The warrior never suspected that... this encounter may have been his last. |
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| Chaos | Wed Nov 4, 2009 1:40 pm Post #5 |
Carmina Ignis
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He was in his moment, full of rage and anger, hate consumed every fiber in his body. Zion was not one to piss off, for his child like demenor was a very thin line to cross, and crossing it meant somebody would die. His face was posed in this hideous pose, and his hands gripped in his guantlets, blood thirsty he was ready for a kill. Sweat rolled down his dirty face, blood covered most of his bare skin, and dirt dug up from the ground he was walking on. For see zion was upside down, walking on all fours like a animal across the ceiling of the dark caverns. His bright purple cape along with his hand to hand skills made him such a danger for he could spring from the roof at any moment. And any one crossing his oath tonight would be in for a rude surprise. He had been in the dark lands for two days now and already he was pissed off. The men at the local store just on the way here tried to rob him of his weapons, which made him mad so he ate them. Their plump fat meat was so good to him. But now being lost in this dark maze he cursed in his shrill voice. He was running across the crumbling roof upside down when he saw to very dark figures in the distance. They seemed to be in a mild ingagment that zion would like to stalk. So he walked up behind a rather large looking man and sat and watched. So there sat zion, a dirty bloody skinny man, sitting upside down and watching a fight between two men. He would jump in, but not right now. maybe one could kill the other and he would sreach the dead corpse, maybe even eat it. But for now he was the preditor in this battle, and the other two did not even know it. |
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| Krieger Bach | Thu Nov 5, 2009 8:53 am Post #6 |
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Yes! He heard it clearly; it rang like a bell through the dark tunnels. Metal hitting metal, his mace had struck something, it echoed through the muscles of his arm. He picked the location of the evil force by sheer incident, by pure luck, and now he knew where to put forth his effort, to put forth his fury. A dark smile crept behind the paladin’s collar, he found a pest of the world, a roach living underground of evil, and he was going to crush it as many times as it would take to kill it. Krieger pulled his arm back, bouncing the mace excitedly a few times, preparing it for another strike, “Do you feel that?” He asked rhetorically, preparing, and then striking. Again, his full might was placed behind the mace’s strike, a full-powered blow being dealt again within the direction of his enemy, against the dark force it the tunnel. His glass eyes shined a bit from what minimal amount of light echoed like sound in the tunnel, showing their odd shape, his half-silver hair somehow seemed to go the same direction as the head and body, every ounce of his being went into each of his strikes when facing evil, this being had to be a drow, it was the most plausible creature, and drow were an agility based race. Of course, this could always be a being that proved the exception, but it didn’t matter. One of them was either going to die, or run away, and the paladin wouldn’t retreat. Not now, not any more, not ever! He laughed while his mace went through the air, his muscles preparing for the shockwave of a blow landing. |
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| Rithroc | Sat Nov 7, 2009 10:10 pm Post #7 |
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Rithroc smirked at the arrogance of the man before him. A worthless human, a follower of the Light, who seemed to believe his skills were matched, or perhaps greater, than those of his adversary was all this one was. The warrior had seen them before, he had faced them, defeated them, slumped their lifeless bloody bodies over monuments, strewn their defective organs across moonlit elven courtyards, a message, a warning, to any others who underestimate the strength, the ability to excel in all forms of combat, the ferocity of the Dark Elves. He came forth again with his weapon, a hand and a half on the worn leather grip, and felt the expected shock waves run up his arm as once again as he heard the sound of steel clanging against steel. Again, he didn't bother to counter the attack, simply waiting to repel the next, trying to bore and to tire his deadly opponent. He rubbed his top row of teeth with his tongue in anticipation, trying to form a phrase, or a taunt, for the human before him. "Well, father," he began, smiling wickedly, "have you come to cleanse the tunnels of my kind..?" he said, eying him with glowing red irises. "I think you will find, that in the lands of the Spider Queen... The Light has forsaken you." |
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| Krieger Bach | Sun Nov 8, 2009 10:54 am Post #8 |
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Again, a heavy recoil, the result of his very being, and echoed through his screaming muscles, they ached with anticipation of the next strike, he knew he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t even if he had wished so. It had become his curse, his mortal sin was Wrath, but he knew how to direct it, his rage and pure hatred for evil was undying. Compared to a flame, his was an inferno of anger, burning away at his fuel and eventually, inevitably killing itself, but burning brighter with each denizen who had pledged their soul to wicked ways. The drow made a comment, a pitiful one at that. He was no priest waiting to merely cleanse one’s sins, he was a righteous knight who sought the evil being’s of Chaon to eternally punish. “Forgive me, father… HA!” He shouted, his broken-sounding voice echoing off of the tunnel’s stone walls, his mace bouncing once more in anticipation. “The light, though I follow, has forsaken me long before I entered your black lands, and what mercy it does show me, I shall take every ounce to my death, and as many of your evil forces with it!” He wasn’t fully mad; he was excited in this situation. He was a paladin seeking death, not only to end the pain which he clung to from the night he found his wife’s body, but to also bring it with him on his journeys, so that when he died, the dark forces might try to stop him from joining his family, and so that he may personally send them to the depths of hell where they belonged. “Evil, fear my wrath, for you shall not find such in another Paladin!” He raised his mace as if to strike again from above, but instead swinging from beneath, the combined might of his full strength and momentum to first knock the steel weapon from his enemy’s hands, and then to bring it down upon the elf’s head. |
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| Chaos | Sun Nov 8, 2009 8:44 pm Post #9 |
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Carmina Ignis
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Zion licked his lips with anticipation. Both of these fighters looked rather tasty from what he could see. A dark elf and a knight were fighting it out in the deep depths of darkness. Zions hands and feet gripped the ceiling he was on, his body overflowing with rage and anger.He wanted a fight, and he was tired of watching. All it seemed like was blows being passed back and forth, being countered and blocked by the other fighter. So gripping the earthen wall he sprang. The steel finger tiped claws emerged from his hands in mid-air, his limbs sprung out ready for a jab. his target was the large brute looking knight, because he was facing the other direction as zion. So his evil claws aimed for his back. Pure rage and hatred ran into his veins, blood pumping and going twice its normal speed. It woul dhappen so suddenly. |
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