Signs In the Mist: Pt I: Team DEATHDEALERS.

by **Cade** on March 23rd, 2012, 2:31 am

The baying of wolves was nerve wrecking as every step they took they all knew they were being stalked. Cattle to the slaughter, a feeling the barbarian hated for he was use to being the wolf. As the reached the heights of the hill, Cade quickly caught his breath, relaxing his anxiety of the situation while his eyes kept peeled to the darkness around them, his sword never being sheathed since meeting the ghostly figure back in the city. It was stained with blood of human and beast alike and he knew the slaying was not to be over yet.

That feeling was proven as the mad mage reacted to the advance of wolves, forcing one of the K 9s from hell to eat a face full of djed fire. That boosted the spirits of the barbarian watching Eryss work his magic but the baying did not stop and it seemed the shadows were getting closer. The glint of red eyes could be reflected by the moon's light as the horde of wolves decided this was the point to attack. Eryss's shouted orders of death to Cade and the half blood myrian was not going to disappoint.

The wolves rushed them but instead of staying his ground the berserker thrusted forward in the heat of battle with blood lust boiling with in him. His body become a symphony of destruction and death as his sword weaved into the flood of snarling beasts, His thunderous roars could be heard echoing through out the graveyard while he smashed, cut, kicked and ripped at the wolves with all he got. He could feel the ungodly creatures bite and scratch at him, his flesh being torn but the fight was not over for Cade silently vowed he was not going to die at these dog's will.

"FEK YOU!!!" He growled as a wolf sunk his teeth into his left forearm. The barbarian lifted his arm up exposing the beasts belly and quickly pierced it's guts with his longsword listening it screech in pain as its lock upon his arm loosen. The half blood savage then gave the beast a quick boot knocking it back into the advancing wolves. This was getting desperate as he took a few steps back noticing the mounds of dead wolves left in his wake and it did not feel like he made a dent yet for he could not see into the darkness and count the numbers these beasts had.

Three more wolves pounced upon him with all three slaughtered in a violent way most deserved and well executed by the Barbarian's skills with the blade. But he was reeling back to the group, his body getting tired of combat and instincts telling him to move closer. He was littered and deep scratches and bit wounds and caked in blood, a mixture of his own and the wolves that keep trying to fell him for a meal.

by **Rayage** on April 8th, 2012, 12:52 am

Ray still was no good with his blade. He was unpracticed. However, when it came to Alchemy, he was quite skilled. Too bad though that his skills could not now be applied to combat in such a way as the other mages. His skills were that of innovation and of change, not of combat or gore. The deeper they went into the graveyard, the deeper they were lead in, the more and more it changed. Yes, no longer was there just tombstones, but entire crypts, the final resting places for notable families, were starting to pop up here and there and only got thicker as they went in. However, it seemed the wolves were still persistent in their chase, they seemed to love the hunt tonight, and it was something that did not amuse Ray.

His natural curiosity made him want to look at the old tombs before him, but the threat of the wolves were ever-present. Were they ever going to get a break? Frowning as he heard the 'leaders' orders to attack, for that Cade to 'kill them all' he turned and saw what was going on. They seemed to have the situation handled, but he tried to keep his guard up. Although it is not as well trained as the rest of the party nor was he as skilled physically, he had something they did not. Brains, or at least the nuit thought at a higher process than most people. His eyes were skilled and have seen many things go down. Yes, he had sheer life experience, and sometimes the best way to survive things like this is to take a step back and let the ones who know what they are doing do their job.

Sword however was never put away, always present in his left hand he walked. He would rather fight with his left hand and lose it than fight with his right and lose the one that he actually uses more often. He was good at using both, but he simply preferred the right and so the sword was wielded in the left hand. The nuit was about to turn to investigate some crypts when he heard a low growl behind him. It seemed the fools let one pass. He had no time or desire to deal with it, but thankfully it was quickly dispatched in one of Cades rampages. Good. That was what they were there for anyways. They were the muscle of this operation. Turning back he went up to one of the old crypts, it was as cold as he was as his right hand brushed up against the structure.

He noted some of the worn names on the structures they had passed before and was unimpressed with the name found on them, Craven. Craven, what a familiar name now that he thought about it, ”Barbarians,” he turned and called out to them, ”You keep that up.” he said, ”You are doing a fantastic job.” little could be said for a nuits sarcasm or sense of humor as he turned back to the crypts muttering to himself about the dirty wolfs and how they all needed to just die. Hand again brushed up against a name plate, cold iron met him and the engraved name was faded by the hands of time, but was still recognizable, but barely. It was an older form of common. Yes, an older form. Language does change over time and thus spelling, "Craeven" he pronounced the faded spelling, in a sort of accent that was unheard of nowadays. The correct old pronunciation of the Craven Family’s name…

”Interesting.” he said, having heard and read that name before, and now that he thought about the ghost mentioned something about the Craven family, didn’t she? ”To defeat your enemy you must first become them. Then,” he said, ”Overcome.” moving along to another crypt as the fighting broke out. The name on this tomb was even harder to read, but then the captain chimed in, ”Craven also, my Commander”

This kept on getting more and more interesting to the nuit, ”That ghost mentioned Craven, the Craven have your scent,” he quoted part of her words as he thought aloud. The Craven were connected to this cemetery, and if so then their enemy may be closer than they could ever hope to see. Maybe these wolves were unnatural, controlled by the ghosts somehow. The possibilities he pondered.

by **Jester** on April 19th, 2013, 9:07 pm

Thread Graded!!

Rayage :

Notes :

"The difference between a jester and a fool is that the jester knows he's a jester"

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