Closed [Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

"... and woke the nameless fear."

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Faval on November 9th, 2013, 12:25 am

Faval did not rush to the aid of the over-exuberant moron. For people who were, by all rights, supposed to be their sellsword’s intellectual betters, these people were awfully dumb. There wasn’t much reason to shave off two minutes of their time taking the dumb and ridiculous route instead of the one that didn’t involve potential death, especially considering they were going to waste even more time dragging the soggy mess back up and on to his feet. No, instead Faval stayed behind, keeping his eyes on the surrounding area for whatever threat these people were so anxious about and the mini-quake they had experienced had done very little to assuage his worries and concerns. It definitely didn’t make him feel better that Kaie seemed as confused by the sudden shake as Faval was.

After the shake subsided, Faval let his bow slowly slack down to his side, he didn’t see any immediate threat outside of Jacen’s idiocy that he needed to be wary of and he slowly let his attention slide back to the group pulling him up from his ill-fated fall. If anyone there could read minds, Faval would probably come off as quite paranoid by now. Mysterious quakes, threats of bandits, threats of the unknown, threats of one of their charges accidentally eating a poisonous fungus and blowing up like a balloon, there were many fears for Faval to experience and he wasn’t entirely sure which he should be most terrified of. Jacen was making a strong case for the fungus.

As his gaze scanned back to the group though, he did notice something that escalated that fear. Crypt, the heterochromiac, randomly gazed in a direction he had...no real reason to gaze toward. Everyone else was looking at Jacen’s body as they dragged it up or looking ahead for where they should go next. So far only Faval had been paranoid enough to look behind them before now and he had already watched Crypt performing some kind of magic or the cave was giving him claustrophobia induced hallucinations. He shot Crypt a look, abandoning his previous emotionless mask and replacing it with one of insistence and marginal irritation. If the man had something to share he should share it with the class.
User avatar
Faval
Player
 
Posts: 100
Words: 101410
Joined roleplay: June 13th, 2012, 5:25 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Medals: 1
Donor (1)

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Razkar on November 9th, 2013, 5:23 am

Image

Jacen was not quite the daredevil when he clambered over the side of the precipice and back onto (comparatively) solid rock. His braggadocio spent and sent screaming away by the too-long gawp at the back drop beneath him, he scrambled up Crypt's proffered rope like a rat to a fresh ship, gasping and shaking in Lared and Darick's arms. Mathias got down to the business of checking for wounds, but...

"Nothing save scratches and a sore ego. Oh, and-"

"Ow! Petch was that for?!"

"For being a stupid bloody sod and nearly dragging someone else down with you!" Mathias snapped back, rubbing his sore knuckles and glowering, elderly and amiable face suddenly writ terrible by the flickering torch and glowing worms. "Blessed Rhysol, boy, when will you fucking learn?!"

Lared rolled his eyes and got back to his feet, sparing a glance for the drained Crypt as he did so. "My thanks. He's a dumb bastard, to be sure, but he's our friend. Now, if that's all done, we could-"

Something that was definitely not the wind howled its way up the catacombs. All thoughts and words died on suddenly still lips, every hair stood on end and hearts paused as if by Dira's own touch. Around the subterranean adventurers, the lights dimmed.

The glow worms. They were wriggling madly into deeper holes and crevices, leaving these strange two-legs to darkness and isolation. And when something that has a brain the size of a toenail clipping decides to flee, you know it's going to be bad.

"That... That came from... down there..."

Darick's shaking finger pointed the way, down and down and down beyond thought into the blackness. Now it seemed not so much the absence of light but the gaping grin of some monstrous creature beyond reckoning... and now it had a voice.

It howled again. It was not alone, that time.

"R-Right." Jacen managed to stutter, hobbling upright and swallowing his whole Adam's apple, by the looks of it. His face had the same texture of wet parchment and now that reptilian mind had kicked savagely into gear. "W-We are f... fu..."

"-fucking leaving, very good idea-"

Another sound, sharper, closer, brought them spinning to face it. Rocks shifting under stumbling feet; hands scraping over walls. The focus of ticks would tell you it was on two legs, groping in the darkness... breathing... heavy breathing-

"D-Don't!"

Wilhelm burst into the group and at the sight of them finally collapsed. Blood was smeared and dripping in his wake, following him like the trail of a dying slug. His face looked more waxen than Jacen but even he managed some faint smirk of relief at the sight of humans not trying to kill him.

"B... Bandits." He managed to choke out as Mathias dove down a second time, fingers probing around the jutting bolt-head. "Killed... Killed the rest. Winged me... ran down here."

"The horses? The gear?" Darick demanded suddenly, and clearly, in the tones of a man who'd pledge his life for his Dark One but would quail at the idea of losing a prize gelding (one careful owner, honest). "Did they-"

"Fuck do you think?!" Wilhelm snarled back, mood not helped by the tremors of agony ripping through him as Mathias started to dress his wound. "Gone. They... They'll be coming..."

All eyes turned to the sellswords.

++++++++++


What good would it do to describe them separate? They were, and they were not. Better to see them as one vast being, dozens of heads, scores of hands and feet, eyes like inverted gimlets swallowing light instead of reflecting it, pouring through tunnels and passageways carved long before men walked upright. Claws like diamond shards hacked and ripped at each other as they struggled to take the lead, the ruthless flow pushing back the weaker and slower, the strong and ravenous coming to the fore.

To the Alpha. Huge and hulking but impossibly fast for one so big; his eyes were more focused, set and intractable as the judgements of Lhex.

Light died behind them. Glow worms vanished, leaving nothing but crushed bugs and dripping mud as the horde rushed like a black tide.

Rushing upwards. Scenting blood and fear like rabid dogs. Something flickered in the Alpha's mind. Something... remembered, but in a being that had no past memories beyond mere chimes before.

Bastardized vocal chords ground and choked it... but the sound came... screeching higher and ore garbled than any mortal throat... rattling around the hive mind of the group so within ticks the whole ghastly assemblage was chanting that single syllable.

"Yuk... Yuk... Yukyukyuk... YUKYUKYUK...!"

Like an earthquake for the ears the sound washed over the party maybe a hundred feet above them, dozens of voices building on it, stewing it, congealing it into a stinking, unholy litany that got closer with every second.

The Earth Demons had found heir frenzy, and now they needed only an outlet for it.
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Kaie on November 13th, 2013, 3:31 am

Image
If only due to the olive skinned man's quick thinking, the imbecile adventurer was spared from a very dark, rocky, fall to his death. Luckily he had escaped with only minor injury, which meant his folly wouldn't slow them down considerably. She had half a mind to storm over there and hit the man upside the head herself. From her position, she'd just have to live through the others were promptly scolded him. Perhaps she might've anyways or at least spoken up, if the earth tremor hadn't caught her so off guard earlier. Kaie might've been ignorant to the inner workings of a cave and spelunking, but she knew when something didn't feel right. Right then, something definitely didn't feel right. At all. She simply couldn't shake her apprehension away.


And for good reason.

The howl of something ungodly rushed through the caverns to freeze the savage woman right in her place. Every hair stood on end, her stance becoming suddenly defensive, and her eyes shifted around wildly. There was no telling which direction, which plunge to darkness the call might've originated from. They were all but boxed in underground. Sightless without their torches and utterly screwed without equipment. They were being that were not born to thrive in such an environment, unfit to survive the treacherous chaos within. And Kaie discovered that all too soon. Her false sense of self assurance disappeared with the glow worms into their crevices. When the howls multiplied, so did the feeling of dread hiding deep within her. At least she wasn't alone.

Like any creature high off adrenaline in the dark, Kaie whipped around with a vengeance at the sound of something scrambling behind her. Her sword drawn, she stepped forward prepared to slay whatever monstrosity appeared. Until the beast had a voice. One that was human and familiar. Regardless, she found herself defensively back peddling until he managed to collapse into the torch light. The sight of the man was horrifying to say the least. He was bloody, leaving a clear trail behind him. The complexion of the man was pale, his smile of relief somehow gruesome to the Myrian still trying to fit the pieces together. What the petch happened to him?

Bandits. I should've petching known. But what about the...

Goddess, damn them all! Her horse, her gear. Gone. Petching gone. Those were her things. Her horse. The very thought of someone handling her possessing churned the adrenaline with raw fury, not to mention the fact that stupid stallion was what led her to Ravok in the first place. Now it was lost. Her fingers clenched tighter around her weapon, lip curling invisibly in the absence of light. Through all that anger, she couldn't help but wonder if this had been her fault. Had she made a mistake evenly balancing the numbers? Should she have left only two in the caves with the men and added two to the force above ground? Would it have mattered?

Doubt was a terrible factor to put in play when Dira is practically breathing down one's neck. Add to that the stare of expectant eyes and there's whirlpool of uncertainty going in one direction, and not a good one. Kaie took a deep breath and then exhaled out her mouth. She needed to compose herself, to mentally remove the weight upon her shoulders. The Myrian simply needed to think, to react, and then do.


"Well, they've got more numbers than us. That's for sure. Do what you have to do, and let's get out of here. If your man here says they're coming, we should already be gone," She offered steadily, voice a bit detached as she began to pay closer attention to her surroundings. Her senses began to tune in, scouring over the environment for detectable danger. Any sound, any movement, would set her instincts ablaze. "Two of us in front, two in back? Either way we should think about finding a new way out if we can. Otherwise..." Kaie suggested to her own comrades, flicking her sword wrist at the end to convey exactly what she was implying. Fighting their way out might've absolutely been their only option if all else failed. For now they needed to watch their backs.

Then came that sound. Oh that terribly familiar sound. They came one by one, each piping up in response to the call of the first. Until it came, that crushing tidal wave of cries somewhere in the darkness. Her senses were overwhelmed. Kaie's muscles tensed so tightly she was sure something was about to snap, and for good reason. Finally she had discovered the source of her horrible feeling of foreboding terror: a swarm of abomination rushing through the tunnels in their direction.


"Aw shyke...Hope you boys came here looking for a good fight, because it looks like it found us," Kaie said softly, intensely over the symphony of screeching frenzies storming the caverns. Falling back into a defensive crouch, gladius in hand, she could do nothing but step before those unarmed and prepare for the onslaught.
Image
Image



Image
User avatar
Kaie
Player
 
Posts: 1558
Words: 1635197
Joined roleplay: May 9th, 2013, 3:13 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 7
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Riverfall Seasonal Challenge (1)
2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Crypt on November 20th, 2013, 5:17 pm

Image


Music to my ears.

Crypt took a moment to enjoy the (unfortunately) short castigation before the howl stopped all thoughts. He unconsciously moved his left hand to his longsword, ready to wield it at the faintest sign of danger.

Oh dear.

Crypt absent-mindedly noted the disappearance of all of the glow worms. He focused on the darkness that lay ahead, whence the howls had come, attempting to divine the source of the unholy caterwauling.

The scent of Death grew strong then, and Dira's mark grew colder on his palm. Wilhelm had arrived, and he appeared to have suffered a few injuries, though not very severe. He carried with him hints of other deaths.

Bandits. Most probably an ambush. Wilhelm is injured. We may need him as a fighter - someone has to patch him up.

He paused as the bloodstained man mentioned the loss of the horses. Crypt's grip on the hilt of his longsword tightened for a moment. Being a Drykas, he was taught to respect and care for the Striders and, by extension, all horses.

We will have to deal with the bandits sooner or later. And I pray that I may send death to them. For the horses.

Crypt observed the group. The non-combatants were shivering with fear, caught between scarpering and staying where they were, too frightened to move on, towards the source of the howls. The Myrian, however, appeared to be relatively more calm and composed.

If the bandits are coming for us, we're stuck. Can't move either way. Best to find a part of the tunnels that provides us with the most protection.

The howls grew in volume and clarity, and Crypt frowned, before letting out a sigh.

"Yukmen. They are coming. I should have guessed. Wherever we tread, the Yukmen will be soon to follow. I will be one of the two who will face the Yukmen, since I have fought them before."

Death was soon to come. But what was so frightening about it? Dira would allow him to remain calm, even comfortable, in the midst of battle, with so much death around him. Sadly, Ionu had to wait for his turn.

Image

Done by the one and only Assilsa Curare!

8200th member. :)

NOTE: I will be on holiday from the 9th to the 25th, so don't expect me to post anything! Apologies.
User avatar
Crypt
Apophenia.
 
Posts: 673
Words: 329454
Joined roleplay: September 20th, 2012, 4:58 am
Location: Ravok
Race: Human, Drykas
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Overlored (1)

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Senghor Vilhjalmr on November 24th, 2013, 10:05 pm

Shadows, the living embodiment of the lonesome emptiness that lingered at the feet of its fleshy masters, its omnipresence hugged the fibres of all their skin and engulfed them in the tundras of warmth, Senghor's eyes inclined in the direction of the entire expedition, their lustful luminous golden brown nature seemingly devouring the black foliage called darkness, the last of his bloodline listened intuitively at the frantic speech of the one called Darick, 'something this way comes'...

Ungodly, the ferocious howl that rattled the chains that bound his senses together caused Senghor to bend his knees slightly as he took up a ready stance, his right palm fell at her waist when he grasped her his fingers trailing at the leather that bound around her figure, from her dress he slowly began to derobe her, what light caught in the womb of the cave flickered off her flesh as he brought held his longsword slightly unsheathed.

Collective grunts pierced from the shadows whilst his eyes surveyed the blackness, the beast coming within came with a voice, a somewhat familiar voice that was not the harbinger of death but that of the dying, a crumbled mass of mortality fell at their feet, blood was worn onto him as he wore his own attire.

He was the visage of a coming strife, a comic 'war' and the casualty it sought to bring yet even as he laid there, gingerly dying he let the corners of his lips tug in relief. Senghor could only assume what'd happened whilst he eased his pose and let 'her' fall back into the confines of her dress.

As he spoke, warning them, Senghor listened and let his concern abate whilst letting the spurs of hatred and rage heighten, even when unknown if two seek to achieve the same goal, a comrade is a comrade, all are comrades it seemed at that moment. Even that bloody horse, especially that bloody horse because even when their philosophies differed they both were at one another's side.

Bandits, Senghor would make sure that with his rage he would take each and everyone of their bodies would be bind them together, flesh and bone would bound in the oddest physical incantation, one of his own palms creation, he'd let his anger seek out even their successors if they dared have any and lay them to rest... In time.

As he mustered within the pools of his thoughts, he didn't even hear the myrian speak her words fell on ears enclosed by the voices of lust, revenge and rage, the only thing he caught one was the last bit, about the formation they should take. Obviously they couldn't risk the lives of their employers, yet couldn't simply waste their own as well, his main concern was whether or not they had archers.

"We're wasting our time, it doesn't matter about the formation. If they have archers, they'll turn us into pin-cushions as soon as we step out that hole!" the mercenary spared viciously whilst enclosing his left palm into a fist.

His rage was soon to be sated by the sound from below the earth, the humble chorus of harmonic 'yuk-yuks' filled the dark air with sadistic intent whilst sharply conceiving within it the womb of earth, this time Seng's body reacted to the sounds of old foes. He remembered them, these beasts of humanoid fears, manifestations of what the earth could bring about when it was pissed, yet the earth wasn't as angry as the Vilhjalmr.

None could ever be as angry as he!, As his palm fell back onto her dress and his fingertips caressed the clothed flesh her moan echoed abruptly as he derobed her fully, her bare body licked by the greedy darkness whilst he stood at pose, he took up the stance of the Vilhjalmr blood and prepared to tell a story, one portrayed by his body as viciously as he could muster.

When he heard the myrian speak, all he ever did was grit his teeth and let the angry flow, flesh would meet flesh and blood would bath the waters of the hidden earth.

"Let this sate our need for vengeance, and than we'll let our rage lead us to revenge" lowly he whispered, preparing for war.
From the soil we came, From the soil we conquered,
My past is dead, my path dark, my rage is the herald of my blade.
Kudos goes to Alea for help with my CS.

Back, but Expect slow replies.
User avatar
Senghor Vilhjalmr
Player
 
Posts: 250
Words: 273907
Joined roleplay: March 28th, 2013, 11:03 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Razkar on November 27th, 2013, 4:44 am

Image
OOCWell, Faval hasn't posted, got in touch or even logged on for days. So, time to move it on. I'll try to protect you, Fave, but your survival is largely up to your comrades, now.

"We are petching leaving!"

As usual, it fell to Mathias - old, crunchy, worn and weary Mathis, who'd buried two wives and a daughter and knew Dira like a long-time friend - to shake the adventurers from the depths of their terror.

But his words did not seem to gain purchase, so he resorted to much more simple and proven methods.

SLAP!

"Ow!"

"Wake the petch up!" The glaring old man snarled, giving Darick the same as he did for Jacen, another ringing of knuckles on cheeks echoing around the darkening cavern. "We need to move! The sellswords will cover us, and we need to go now!"

No-one argued. All knew the tales of horror and sickening inhumanity of the Yukmen. No negotiation, no bartering, no hope of mercy or leniency. Might as well one try to persuade a pack of mad-with-starvation jackals not to rip them apart. Their only option was to flee, to the top, where-

"Those bastards who did this to me are still there!" Wilhlem growled, rising to his feet, one hand on his scarlet glistening side but at least mobile. "They're waiting, at best; at worst, they've sent down men to finish what they started!"

"B-Better them than what's down there!" Darrick quavered, pointing down with a trembling hand down into the dark and voicing the general opinion of them all. "A-And there's d-dozens of them!"

"How the petch do you know?!"

"Cause they don't appear alone, do they?!" Lared snapped back, trying to salvage his rope and then deciding his life wasn't worth the delay. His wife would just have to live with the loss. "We're heading up. Better to die in Rhysol's light than down here, in the bellies of countless monsters!"

Wilhelm's mouth gaped a few times but he found he did not have a pithy retort to the man's logic. Besides, he had plenty of his own. Longswords were weapons for open battle, where the chilling power of their heaving swings could be fully utilized. But down there, in the stiffling closeness of the catacombs, where even an average man had to mind his head, they would be stymied and half-useless.

Of course, that would help them, too. Force only a handful of Yukmen to engage them at once, deny them the unstoppable, unflinching, chaotic flood of sheer numbers that had overwhelmed countless other bands of warriors in the past. And yet... and yet...

"You're right." He bit out finally, drawing a long, curved dagger from his belt. Better this for the moment. He turned to the Myrian, eyes trying hard to hide their frantic fear and largely succeeding. "I will stay back with the rearguard. Better I fight a pack of animals than trained, ready men on the surface."

The last handful of words were partially drowned and then utterly eclipsed by the roar of the Alpha from much closer below them. Three passages were before them, rough and yawning mouths of rock that were still lit by glow worms, and-

No. Only... two... then one...

Then darkness. Scratching. Tiny and indistinct, like a fly buzzing at your ear. Then the ground began to tremble, ever so slightly. Gnashing and screeching, the likes that made grown men mess themselves (case in point: Jared). Claws scraping themselves bloody on the walls. Feet pounded on the rocks.

Then eyes. Burning, enraged, at once full of malevolence and utterly empty, a half-dozen pairs, snapping as one to the sight of those tender morsels their leader had-

The Alpha drew himself up to his full height, towering over his brethren and drawing deep the close, ancient air into what could laughably called "lungs". Then with a bellow that spoke not of challenge or courage but of sheer, stinking hatred, the beast flung himself towards the already-fleeing group and their handful of ready sellswords.

OOCAlright, onto the main event, my pedigree chums! The Yukmen have arrived and the NPCs are already fleeing, with the two of you leading the way back to the surface. The other two and Wilhelm, well... good luck!
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Kaie on December 6th, 2013, 1:13 am

Image
There came that utter dread once again, that cold rush through her veins like Dira herself had exhaled along the nape of the savage's neck. It was the cruelest foreboding. A wretched feeling of dread and despair bribed away only with pride and naive resilience. She could hear them then, they could all hear them. Those petching cries of ravenous abominations whose screeches rattled both the tunnels and their very bones. A blackness that was not affiliated with the shadows cast itself over the mind of the Myrian woman. Its gloomy fog trapping a sinister, primitive panic with the defiance building within her very soul. It seemed it were those very invisible tendrils wrapped around her conscious that dared her to try and survive.

Kaie nodded sternly in agreement with Mathias without taking her eyes from the direction of their impending doom. They were the hired swords. Her job was to protect the adventurers to the best of her ability, and she knew the moment she had signed up that risking her life was part of the liability. Though many things, she was no coward. More importantly she was true to her word. She wouldn't think to break her promises, even if they were given to barbarians. That wasn't to say the woman wasn't above bending them to ensure her survival.

Their arguments and babbling facts of the oncoming monsters were all but deaf to Kaie's ears. Her large, tanned comrade seemed to disregard a previous statement made by the olive skinned mercenary. Their words, too, were lost upon her. The shrieking tunnels had her attention just then. Kaie swore she could see right through those stone walls, witnessing what horror was on its way. A legion of mangled, earth-like bodies racing at them with all the recklessness and blood thirsty intentions of the Ravokian wolves. Their hands would be out, fingers outstretched for them and curled like claws to tear their flesh. And their eyes...She remembered what it was like to stare into their wild, thoughtless pools of nothingness. They were something beyond reason. More mindless than some of the dumbest animals.

And then the cry to arms came in the form of a terrifyingly large Yukman. Oddly enough it seemed to be the one leading the charge. For the moment he let out his bloodcurdling screech to signal the livings' doom, the rest fell in right behind it. A suicidal charge of careless bodies hurling themselves after their quarry like maddened carnivores. The very idea of being prey to another creature made Kaie feel like she was just in another petching jungle. If only it were the one she so desperately longed for.


"Let's just get the petch out of here!" The Myrian growled loudly, no longer even making the useless attempt to avoid attention. The Yukmen had found their targets. Not even Akajia herself could camouflage them then. It was too late. There was nothing else to do but run. Bandits or Yukmen, it did not matter. A threat was a threat and both ends of the tunnel wanted her blood spilled and eyes glazed over in death. They were out of options and time.

Kaie charged forward with quick feet, praying some sort of blessing would be cast upon her to keep her from tripping onto Dira's doorstep. For the time being, she'd be on her way with all the speed she could muster. After all, she would be running head first into one death or another. There was no difference in which position she took. Unless the horde behind them began to pile up and cause some extreme problems, she would lead on toward the surface. However, if she needed to drop back and help ward off the freaks, she wouldn't hesitate to do so.

"Let's take the narrower paths when we can! Squeeze their numbers down on our backs!"
Image
Image



Image
User avatar
Kaie
Player
 
Posts: 1558
Words: 1635197
Joined roleplay: May 9th, 2013, 3:13 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 7
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Riverfall Seasonal Challenge (1)
2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Crypt on December 6th, 2013, 2:36 pm

Image


Arguing at this moment? Useless bunch of idiots. The least they could do would be to get themselves ready for the fight.

Crypt was getting rather impatient. And annoyed. The initial moment of fear as the roars and screeches of the Almost-Human Yukmen reverberated throughout the caverns had faded as it took more than a chime for them to actually reach the small party.

"You'd think that they'd be bursting onto us in a dramatic fashion, just as the that cacophony ended. It'd be much better that way, rather than having the noise just build up. That's bloody cliché!Oh, for a member of the Inverted and a few weeks! We'd teach them to attack humans properly after building up suspense in unreal amounts! Ah, such heathens."

The above diatribe was muttered under his breath, although one could catch snatches of phrases here and there over the racket the Yukmen were making.

And the Yukmen arrived; the sight of the creatures crawling all over each other's bodies in order to reach the expedition members as quickly as possible made him freeze for a moment, his face displaying horror at the petrifying sight before he laughed.

"Now that's more like it! Ah, a sight to terrify the plebeians everywhere! A good tragedy it would make. Perhaps I'll do it someday."

He slashed at the nearest Yukman, gaining a screech of pain for his efforts before retreating backwards, always keeping one eye on the Yukmen and another on the terrain of the paths that he was treading. Kaie's instructions appeared to be the best option for him, and so he followed it without question.

"I'll distract them for a moment to gain us some time. Just keep running back."

Hello there, Ionu! I hope you're receiving this. Just a little prayer. Let me dazzle their eyes with my (and yours, of course) awesomeness!

It may be noted that Crypt was strangely cheerful. This may be explained by the fact that spending time at the Nitrozian Estate as a 'bodyguard' with little excitement made him even more exhilarated at having foes to deal with. The joy of battle had not felt by him for too long, and even if there was a hint or two of fearing for his life, he would ignore it as long as possible.

He tapped Ionu's mark on his shoulder, imagining a high-pitched banshee shriek emanating from within the heads of the foremost Yukmen at regular intervals. The illusions were cast a moment after, and the effect was immediately seen.

Ten Yukmen closest to the humans faltered almost immediately, grasping their heads with both of their hands as their heads were assaulted sonically. Their eardrums wouldn't actually burst, since the sound was but an illusion, but they would be distracted by the sound.

Seeing that they were diverted by the banshee wails, Crypt switched his attention to ten other Yukmen that were clambering over the distracted Yukmen, causing them to similarly falter.

Another ten fell for a few seconds before getting up, tripping their compatriots in the dozen before they could regain their momentum and start moving towards the humans.

Crypt had bought them precious seconds to widen the distance, but eventually they would have to face the horde.

Image

Done by the one and only Assilsa Curare!

8200th member. :)

NOTE: I will be on holiday from the 9th to the 25th, so don't expect me to post anything! Apologies.
User avatar
Crypt
Apophenia.
 
Posts: 673
Words: 329454
Joined roleplay: September 20th, 2012, 4:58 am
Location: Ravok
Race: Human, Drykas
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Overlored (1)

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Senghor Vilhjalmr on December 7th, 2013, 3:43 pm

Upon his flesh, the fleshy coat that was bound to bone and muscle by the oddest of incarnation, the warm bosom of darkness laced itself in a seductive wear as he felt its embrace hug him with whilst walls of the caves became the creeping palms of impeding doom.

As the flesh of his palms held onto the neck of his blade, the tip of the blade itself dipped into the soil caressing the earth in its own twisted way, their muddled words and arguing wasn't really help, since being hired their existence wasn't truly much help either. This expedition was nothing but one problem after another...

From his nigh-dried lips untamed words spat as the moist air soon dampened and he tasted it, Dira's embrace finally came as the womb of the earth finally birthed its spawn, Yukmen, the harbingers of the earth to bring about death onto the expedition, it was only when Senghor held his sword up that the walls became a true adversary, he saw that arching swings with the blade would be nigh-impossible. He had to keep his movements as quick and precise as possible.

"Where are daggers when you need them?" he asked with a low somewhat sarcastic tone as he saw the largest and most feral of their yukmen led its brethren, his eyes attained a seductive yet animalistic glint of twisted joy. His father would have been proud if he knew his son upheld the Vilhjalmr name with such fervour and pride, that the name would be carried on even in death, that even need be it'd start from the bowels of earth itself and soon shatter the heavens with the power it holds.

He did not move from his stance, it was like a locked mechanism that wouldn't dare even quake at the face of death, he didn't move until the nearest came towards him, its enthusiasm did little to betray itself intelligence, it came charging and brought down its nails.

Senghor stepped back and watched as its arms fell, he reared his arm and thrust the tip of the blade deeply into the throat of the entity, it pierced through its earthly flesh and exposed itself the other side, with his strength he kept the yukmen on its knees whilst his left hand left the hilt and shot forward grasping the head of the being.

He thrust deeper into its ravaged throat and drove the yukman's head deeper into the blade, its chin touched the cross-guard of the longsword, and Senghor's piercing gaze overwhelmed the already dead beings globes. He cursed as he brought his foot to the chest of the corpse, in an unceremonious shove he kicked it off, as it slumped forward its brethren tripped over its still warm body at Senghor feet, Senghor made sure to be quick with his movements and let the tip of his blade face the back of its skull.

In a clasp his left palm fell back onto the hilt, swiftly he thrust the tip of the blade between the neck and skull of the yukman whilst falling to his knees in a half kneel, the blade severed what little thought lines it had, and as he stood up his boot found the back of its head and stomped it back into the earth.

The Adrenaline and Rage coupled and made him move like an beast, like a truth Vilhjalmr, yet if only he could tame this rage like his father, like his ancestors had. If only his father hadn't died and taught him how, "How damnit!" he roared to himself as the next Yukman came, this time he didn't even allow it to move.

His left arm shot out and he grasped side of its neck, in a angered shove it head soon plastered the jagged caves wall, he dug his fingers into the earthly flesh and pulled it back only to shove it again into the wall. Cracking sounds emitting from bone as growls turned into groans, which died as soon he drove his longsword into its chest, he'd even forgot about the myrian and all others at that moment.

An enigmatic disease plagued Senghor, a disorder, a curse it seemed to be afflicted the young man but when he needed it, it was there to slay, cut, rip, tear, break, shred, dismember... Kill!. A hoarse growl seemed to slip from his lips, a barbaric snarl was what it truly was. The golden brown glint of his eyes turned into a pool of cold yet seductive golden brown, the blood rushing through his veins pulsating ferociously as he tried his best to cut each yukman that came, he'd made the mistake of trying to swing, arc his sword yet quickly learnt and programmed his brain once again to just be as precise and quick as ever.

His eyes drifted towards the other mercenaries when he heard them holler back and forth, he watched the pale mercenary and captured the moment, he too was enthralled in battle, a twisted grin tugged his lips as he knew, though these yukmen brought a battle they responded by waging war. As the next yukman fell with a slash to throat he heard him speak, he'd hold these bastards back, the warrior, the Vilhjalmr in him wanted to fight yet when he began to calm himself, simmer down his rage he agreed.

Senghor stepped back, yet still they came with each step it seemed that for one that fell another quickly took its place, inclining his head to gaze at the rest of comrades (and expedition) he watched them move back. He spat, he wanted to fight, he wanted end this, he just wanted get paid and if it meant slaughtering each one of the yukmen by hand than he would do it...
From the soil we came, From the soil we conquered,
My past is dead, my path dark, my rage is the herald of my blade.
Kudos goes to Alea for help with my CS.

Back, but Expect slow replies.
User avatar
Senghor Vilhjalmr
Player
 
Posts: 250
Words: 273907
Joined roleplay: March 28th, 2013, 11:03 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Razkar on December 11th, 2013, 3:54 am

Image
The tide came on with slavering jaws and filthy claws, but there were dams to its progress. Minds that only understood under, strength and rage were suddenly shattered by noise... from inside their heads. A score of them fell or staggered; patent suicide when the unaffected dozens behind were pushing and shoving and clawing them away...

The passageway soon became littered with confused Yukmen, at least until-

-the giant with the longsword added his two cents and two hands gripping sharpened steel, wisely using the huge weapon to thrust and stab, piercing one, two, four, six throats as-

"Shouldn't we-OW!"

Mathias was in no mood to argue or be heroic, decking the yelping Lared and not even looking behind him. "No, we shouldn't, and if you suggest it again I will feed you to them!"

"You wouldn't!"

"Hey, while they're busy eating you, they won't be eating-"

"Can we just petching run, please?!"

Wilhelm muttered under his breath in language that would make a Sunberth whore gasp in shock. Fucking clients. Always the way, but that was the job, wasn't it? And now he was in the thick of "the job", stabbing around and next to the hulking Seng, the dark-skinned human so massive he took up much of the passageway... which was growing narrower.

"Wadaya-"

His blade flashed twice like a coin being tossed, piercing a fallen, gibbering Yukman, expertly puncturing its eye and throat.

"-petching-"

Another lunged at him and he stuck it in the beast's stomach, slamming his head forwards before it got the chance to bite him, ripping the dagger upward as the creature reeled back, viscera and steaming black entrails like diseased worms spilling from the hole.

"-day!"

The Alpha roared in frustrated anger as his minions were thrown into disarray or slaughtered by these fleshy lumps with shining arms and strange... it didn't even know. Having no concept of djed or magic, the answer didn't come, and rage built on ignorance built on strength until-

A bellow that could have shaken the foundations of the world issued forth from ragged lips and arms even larger than Seng's gripped a stalagmite in front of him. It roared, screamed, strained, pushing itself far beyond the pain threshold of anything mortal, muscles bulging, ripping even as he-

-ripped the hundred-pound, pointed object free and hurled it-

-straight at the backpedalling trio stabbing, thrusting and casting down the passageway. After the earth-shattering impact, the Alpha himself would lead the charge, and the fleeing wretches behind these impediments would find no escape from the Horde.

++++++++++


"You hear that?"

"Quiet!"

Heavy breathing stilled as the trio crouched in darkness. The distant echoes of steel and screeching monsters was still crawling and rattling around the passageways... but this close to the surface, there was still some glimmer of light to at least point them back to the surface.

They had no intention of anyone else seeing it, though.

"Think they're coming this way?"

"Maybe." The click! of a crossbow being readied followed the nonchalant reply, the verbal equivalent of a shrug, given by a man to whom cold-blooded murder was as natural as a solid shit. "But they're coming. You see them, put them down. Don't fret overmuch about mortal wounds; wound them bad enough, the Yukmen'll catch up and do it for us."

"And... them?"

Thought his head was wreathed in shadows, the lead killer's gaze could have soured milk and the fearful bandit shuffled over crushed glow worms and ancient shale.

"Fuck do you think?"

"... we run?"

"Smart boy. By the time we get to the surface, the rest'll have the horses ready." He turned his gaze from the other two and settled into a comfortable crouch, aiming down the simple sight into the pitch tunnel. "Now get ready..."
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

PreviousNext

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests