122 replies to this topic

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

OOC: A timeskip soon is probably best, there's not much action likely to happen until morning anyway.

IC:
"That dwarf treated murder - treated life itself - like a game, like a joke. By all rights, I should have taken his head," Gauvik muttered. "Yet I stood by, perfectly willing to let him spill the blood of living, breathing beings before my eyes, simply because I didn't know them, didn't find them honorable. How then can I find myself honorable, I ask you? That man may have been evil, perhaps; it didn't make him wrong."

---

Lord Ketarn's party marched through the hall, attracting what few eyes were still awake. At least a few of them knew Ketarn - some as the Red Lord, some as He of the Isles of Blood, some simply by the name of Castle Carmine - and knew enough about him to keep their distance. Ketarn knew he was not the sort few people would willingly associate with... yet, somehow, his library rarely went a month without visitors. The hypocrisy of it all was enough to keep Ketarn amused for quite a while; when they showed up at his doors, asking politely to peruse his tomes, if it's not a problem, that is... that was when he saw their true faces.

Adela Wystheart sidled closer, a wave of her hand and a crackle of power enveloping the pair in an aura of silence. To others around them, their voices were little more than hushed whispers.

"What of the dwarf, my lord?" she asked, pointing without moving towards Birodor across the hall. "He could be useful."

"...Could. He could also rain destruction down upon us all when he chooses to lop off the wrong head," Ketarn said after some thought. "Keeping a man like him in my employ is a surefire way to create enemies I don't need. For the moment though, he's simply a nuisance. Keep an eye on him, so we can see which way he chooses to turn."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 07 2011 - 07:28 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Outside Refectory\IC:

"True, true... Indeed, it's a thin line, dealing with murderers," Brithlin mused, rubbing his chin.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"And with each day that goes by, I fear I find it to be even thinner than I'd thought before," Gauvik said, shaking his head.

He lifted his axe out of the dirt, droplets of mud falling off the blade. He ducked under the awning, scooping up his pile of armor under one muscled arm.

"Well, perhaps I should be seeking sleep. A little rest might cool the mind a bit," he said. "I understand we are both to be in the same exploring party tomorrow. I will look forward to seeing you again, friend."

[For Science!]

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Going to Sleep\IC:

"I look forward to the morrow, then, good Gauvik," replied Brithlin as he bowed. The dor then continued on his way to his temporarily place of living - the hollowed shell of a small spire of rock. Tight, but surprisingly comfortable. It even had a small area that was like a shelf, and once he got used to sleeping while sitting, it was just like home.

Edited by Toa of Dischordant Dancing, Nov 08 2011 - 08:43 AM.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Gauvik chuckled to himself as Brithlin vanished into the pouring rain. Good Gauvik... ...heh... Well, at the very least, one of them still believed that. His laugh grew louder, booming like the thunder as Gauvik marched through the rain. It had been quite a while since he'd truly laughed with anything more than bitter resentment; even a fellow as morose as Gauvik had to admit it felt pretty good. It was probably for the best he was on his own right now; few people would interpret the seven-foot tall man carrying a massive slab of an axe and laughing like a madman as anything other than bad news.

Like Brithlin, Gauvik had also chosen to make his camp outside of the safe walls of the Refectory, having chosen one of the abandoned foundries that dotted the outskirts of Sala-Grimna's Citadel. What good memories he'd had left were still of his days as a humble blacksmith, and any place with a forge felt a little like home to him. It was no palace: the walls were crumbling and there was a massive hole at the center of the foundry where part of the ceiling had simply given way after untold ages of neglect. Still, there was enough of a roof to keep the rain out, the open ceiling let in a nice breeze on the hottest days, and when Gauvik was able to get a fire going he had plenty of material to repair his armor and weapons.

Gauvik unrolled his bedroll beside a rusted pile of metal that was once a massive furnace and laid down. Sleep never came easy, although it always did come, eventually. He tried letting the patter of the rain lull him to sleep, but that just brought with it more unpleasant memories of Neauburn. He stared at the cracked and faded ceiling for what must have been ages, but with no way to keep time it could have just been seconds. He didn't know how it was he finally calmed his nerves enough to sleep - he never could the next morning, yet somehow it must have happened - and let himself drift off to the land of dream and nightmare.

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 07 2011 - 10:44 PM.

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOC: Fixed him, how's he look now?

[Toa of Dancing]

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

Athiah had learned by now to get lodging in the farthest corner of the building you could. She'd had enough villains try to grope her in the middle of the night to know that. And thus, she was laying nice and snug where two walls met, with the massive form of Rowun snoring beside her. Thet each had nicely stuffed sleeping pads, so what was keeping her awake? Excitement, adventure. She had been able to have a short discussion with each of the members of her party.

Rowun, of course, was the most loyal friend, brother, lover, or whatever he might be that she could have. That Brithlin fellow seemed jolly and skilled; it was good to have a bard on the team. Gauvik seemed to get along with Rowun perfectly. Then there were the elves, also merry. The liech was nice, too. The man... he seemed very shifty, but eager to go on the expedition. She'd make sure that Rowun kept an eye on him for her... While thinking of her crew, she suddenly was overcome by the joy of sleep, not knowing how it came upon her.

Birodor/Refectory\IC:

After drinking about a dozen full tankards of strong drink, Birodor got up and staggered over to a sleeping area. He tripped over himself and sprawled onto the ground. Yet he managed to still be imposing enough to ward off pickpockets. Thus, he was into a drunken slumber, unlikely to wake for a while longer.



OOC: Well, I'm ready for a time-skip.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Kerarn and party had taken a dark, secluded corner of the Refectory for themselves, walled off from the rest of the hall by a divider of swirled black and crimson cloth. The purposes it served were manifold. In theory, it was there purely to keep out the unwanted and undesirable, but more subtly, it was there for another reason. It was a message, simple but effective: Lord Ketarn is among you, but he is not one of you. Lord Ketarn will not be coming down to your level. Besides, Ketarn knew it would be hard to maintain an aura of mystery if he was lying down to sleep with the unwashed masses.

As the other adventurers drifted to sleep, a lantern burned in Ketarn's camp for many more hours before it was casually snuffed out. During this time Ketarn engrossed himself in an aged, faded record of wars on the Plains of Dasaar. It was a dull text that would interest few, yet Ketarn pores over it for hours. What others might see as a dry list of skirmishes and engagements, Ketarn saw as a detailed account of wartime crimes and atrocities, valuable information to hold next time he dealt with the lords of Dasaar. And, at the very least, it was truly boring enough to put Ketarn in a mood for sleep.

OOC: Since it looks there won't much interaction this night beyond "Character X was still asleep", I'm just gonna assume no one will mind if I go ahead with the timeskip.

IC:
Slowly, Gauvik awoke, dark memories thankfully fading into oblivion with the break of dawn. Slowly he rose, stowing his bedroll and fastening his armor on. When he was finished, Gauvik glanced over at a heqvy cauldron once filled with boiling molten metal, but now only stored excess rainwater. He gazed down at his reflection, a weary-faced mountain of a man, nearly all ornamentation on his armor worn away by warfare and time. He tried to remember the face that had once stared back, when he was still a clean-shaven green young soldier, when his armor still bore the regal blue of the High Guard, when he still thought he was making a difference.

No use looking for that man; he'd been gone far too long by now. Better to focus on the here and now, whatever it might bring. Lifting his axe, Gauvik left the foundry behind and headed through the early dawn towards the Refectory...

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 08 2011 - 03:33 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

OOC: I see no problem in this.

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

Brithlin was always one to watch the sunset, playing a morning sonata on his violin. As he finished one piece, he reached the Refectory. Seeing Gauvik walking towards the same place, the dor greeted him as cheerfully as he could.

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

Athiah leaned against a wall, enjoying the peace of the morning broken only by the occasional snore and the early-risers. Someone had played a rather beautiful piece of music outside the Refectory on a violin. Probably good old Brithlin, who always rose before the rest of the adventurers. She figured that she would let Rowun sleep a while longer while she read a book.

Birodor/Refectory\IC:

Birodor was still out cold, snoring like a train. He'd probably be the last person in the entire Refectory to rise, and he wasn't showing any signs of that time for getting up being soon.

Edited by Toa of Dischordant Dancing, Nov 09 2011 - 09:00 AM.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Gauvik had not quite expected to see another face this early in the morning, years of military training having taught his body to wake itself up at incredibly early hours. Still, he gave a wave towards Brithlin.

"'Morning," he said as he approached. "I trust you slept well... better than me, at any rate."

---

"Now... that cannot be who I think it is?"

Almost suddenly, Lord Ketarn was standing before Athaih. Either she had been greatly engrossed in her book or Ketarn was silent as a spectre, for there had been no sign of his approach until he spoke. There was something slightly untrustworthy about his demeanor - although there was always something untrustworthy about Lord Ketarn, and he liked it that way - but the fact he was not presently flanked by his well-armed entourage suggested he did not come with ill intentions... not obvious ones, anyway.

"Ah, Princess Athiah Brenton, I presume? My, you're just as beautiful as they say; I'd say perhaps even moreso, if you can stand the flattery. You must forgive my intrusion, I simply was not expecting to see royalty in such a wretched place as this," he said, motioning disparagingly across the hall with his cane.

"I trust Rhithianworn is lovely as ever, yes? Oh, it's been years since I've visited it last, I'm afraid. Perhaps when all this is over I shall visit it again; the Sanguine Isles are far too dreary a place to spend too long in, you understand."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 09 2011 - 10:32 AM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

"I slept well enough. Rested and ready for the journey of the day. Let's see... by the sun I'd say it's about six. Gives us a good three hours until our expedition leaves. How are you planning on spending the morning, if I may ask?"

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

Athiah was, indeed, very deeply engrossed in the book. When Ketarn appeared before her, she was almost startled to the point of dropping it. "Oh! Lord Ketarn, it's been years! Why, I'd say it's been almost fifteen! Yes, I suppose I've matured since I was eleven... Yes, Rhithianworn is beautiful, or it was last spring when I left. How have you been?" The cordiality in her voice was, if Ketarn was listening close, slightly forced.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"I had no particular plans, so I suppose just the usual: skulking about some shady corner of the hall, making eyes at people whilst sharpening an axe," Gauvik shrugged. "If you can recommend a better plan, I'm all ears."

---

Ketarn did of course pick up on the forced politeness in her voice; it was a talent he prided himself on and had honed for many years. As far as he was concerned, the false cordiality of the Brentons was truly the most beautiful thing in Rhithianworn, and a treasure nearly as valuable as any in Sala-Grimna's citadel. Ketarn had no delusions: he was a truly repugnant man, utterly twisted to the core. You probably had to be to declare yourself, in complete sincerity, the Lord of the Isles of Blood. And yet all these lords and nobles who could barely stand the sight of him had no choice but to treat him with kindness and respect, just for the sake of peaceful relations. That, as far as Ketarn was concerned, was a far greater power than wealth or armies could bring.

"Oh, I've managed, I suppose you could say. Not that you didn't know that, of course, everyone's heard the stories. There's not as much truth in them as you might believe, I assure you," said Ketarn, leaving the implication that there was some truth in those tales left unsaid but implied. "I have expanded my Library quite a bit; traveled here and there to keep rare volumes from being lost by certain... careless hands. And just what might you be reading, if you don't mind me asking? Pardon me, I simply can't help but be curious..."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 09 2011 - 11:25 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

OOC: The server ate my post, apparently...

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

"All I was planning on doing was eating breakfast and then playing some music outside. Unless anything better comes up, I have a feeling that that's exactly what I'll do, too."

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

"Oh, this? It's a book of history about Salas-Grimna. As is to be expected, it isn't completely accurate. Still, if you can figure out fact from fiction, it's an excellent read. It gives a rather strong impression of just how evil the man was. It kind of reminds me of a more aggressive version of you... Er... no offense..."

Edited by Toa of Dischordant Dancing, Nov 10 2011 - 11:13 PM.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"Perhaps I shall join you for breakfast," said Gauvik, "the music... perhaps not as much."

---

"My dear, given what other people have said of me, your words are downright complimentary," Ketarn said. If he didn't know better, Ketarn would have almost thought Athiah might be trying to flatter him with such a comparison. "Yes, it's quite hard to find the truth about Sala-Grimna; I know that better than most, I've amassed quite the collection about him. Those who truly knew the wizard... rarely lived long enough to transcribe their thoughts."

He chuckled darkly to himself at the thought. Not unlike himself, perhaps, Sala-Grimna liked to surround himself in mystery.

"Now, I can't imagine you've come to Sala-Grimna's stronghold just to take in the sights. I trust you have a suitable party for exploring these dark catacombs, yes?" he asked, inquisitively. "I couldn't bear the thought of some terrible fate befalling you alone in those caverns. It would be like losing a precious work of art."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 10 2011 - 11:48 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

"Well, to each his own. Anyways, I'll pay. I got enough to survive on for a while from the last haul," replied Brithlin, leading the way to the bar.

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

"I have, indeed, set up a suitable party for myself. Honestly, I would be fine with Rowun by my side. However, eight others happened to sign up for my expedition, so I believe that it shall go exceedingly well."

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"I'm most appreciate that," said Gauvik. "I've spent most of my coin for the journey here, that that's already on the fairly meager earnings of a soldier, mind you."

---

"Ah yes, the werewolf from the Kruenbaulc. Well, I can only hope the best of luck to you in your endeavors," said Ketarn before adding, with a hint of what might have been concern, "...Do you have the names of these fellows? I ask simply for your safety; this is a most dangerous den, after all, and any one of them might wish to cut your throat just for a larger share of loot."

[For Science!]

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

Brithlin smiled and sat down at the bar, waiting for the barkeep. When he came up, the dor ordered, "Yes, I'd like two eggs, slightly runny, and a braku sausage. My fellow here is going to be on the same bill, by the way."

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

Athiah pulled out the list from the night before and showed it to Ketarn. "Indeed, I do wave all of the names. Rowun, Brithlin, Wyne, Glyne..." she continued, reading all of the names off of the list.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Gauvik mentally tried to compose an order in his head. Most of the stuff they served was utterly foreign to the Kruenbaulc, and they served soldiers with the most basic of gruel.

"Uh... I suppose I'll have the sausage then, perhaps some oatmeal too," he muttered in the direction of the barkeep.

---

Ketarn listened to the names read alone, leaning in slightly closer to Athiah to cast his eyes across the list.

"Well, these two - Brithlin and Gauvik - couldn't be bothered to assist me in a moment of peril last night. I shall hope they have better character than to do the same to you," he muttered. "Most of these names I don't recognize - I have a few books of prison records in most of the major cities, if you wish to check them for their names. But this one... Elisia Greycliffe? Dear lord, don't tell me you don't know about Lady Greycliffe?"

[For Science!]

[Lord Kaitan de Storms]

OOC: My apologies for my lack of activity. I have been quite busy, and probably won't be on this weekend, just as a heads up.

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

The barkeep nodded and turned to tell his cook. When he came back to ask what they would drink, Brithlin ordered two full tankards of grog. When they got the drinks, the dor turned to his companion and said, "So, I believe that I've failed to hear your full background. You were a soldier of your land. What started the war? With whom was it fought?"

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

"I have heard enough. We rarely have negative gossip go around the kingdom. The worst it usually gets is that a farmer accidentally got drunk and punched another farmer. However, I've heard from miscellaneous sources about different people. Yes, I do realize that Elisia is a thief of the highest degree. No, that won't keep me from accepting her."

[Lord of Adders Black]

OOC: Well lets see whats happening in here. What's this, everyone's just standing around talking? Oh this just won't do.
ACTIVATE STUFF HAPPENING MODE!

IC: A loud and very solid-sounding thud echoed through the dining chamber of the Refectory. Everyone paused, some with cutlery or joints of meat halfway to their mouths.
There was another thud.
Then another...
And with a fourth thud a whole section of the floor fell away. A metal hand that could have crushed tree trunks lunged out of the rubble and swirling dust, latching onto the edge of the newly excavated pit. The rest of the Iron Golem soon followed, its footfalls sounding like the bells of armageddon, glowing red eyes taking in the occupants of the room.
And it was not alone, as a raging mob of skeletons poured from the pit, screeching and leering with fleshless mouths. The peace of the refectory was broken by battle

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

OOC: Well, I had this post typed up before Chandler's Law came a knocking, so eff it, I'm just saying this part happened before all the STUFF HAPPENING STUFF.

IC:
Ketarn hid his amusement well. He didn't believe Athaih was lying as he usually did the other royals and lords; no one could say a statement like that with a straight face unless they truly did believe it. But the Red Lord knew well enough that, generally speaking, there was quite a gap between the rumors of the common folk and the rumors that fell upon the ears of a princess of the Royal Family. At the very least, he was sure there was an amusing explanation to how one could get "accidentally" drunk.

"I deeply hope I haven't offended you. I merely spoke out of concern for your safety," he said with the faintest hint of a sideways smile. "A man with a reputation like mine knows better than to engage in idle gossip, does he not? It's no rumor; Elisia Greycliffe has proven time and time again that she makes a game of stealing from the rich and giving to nobody in particular. How do you know she doesn't have such plans for you? She has little to lose, and you would make a tempting target."

---

OOC: This part doesn't, though.

Gauvik would not have liked to talk tales of his days in the Guard, but he supposed it was inevitable. Say you're a soldier, and people weren't going to ask you about your talents with baking. Not that Gauvik possessed much talent for baking - or truly anything beyond killing and forging weapons - so he supposed it was best.

"I was a member of the Kruenbaulc High Guard," he began. "I enlisted when fighting broke out between-"

Gauvik was almost thankful for the interruption of crumbling masonry, although only almost. He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the table in the process. Light glinted off his axe even in the dim morning light coming through the window, as he moved himself between the golem and the patrons of of the Refectory.

[For Science]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 15 2011 - 08:33 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

OOC: Well, we were going to start questing soon. XD

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

As the Iron Golem burst through the floor, surrounded by undead, Brithlin muttered, "Scratch that, story later. Survival now." With that, he pulled his violin off of his back. However, to start his attack, he began with a deep, resounding vocal note which he held. This single note was one of his favorite attacks, as it was usually able to fling enemies out of his way. The golem, not so much.

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

Athiah was exceedingly glad for the interruption of a massive hand and a horde of undead. She gave a nod to Ketarn and leaped forward, using her small abilities to slow down a group of the monsters. Rowun, who had awoken shortly before then, was already charging into the hordes, mace swinging.

Birodor/Refectory\IC:

Birodor was rudely awoken. Not by the deafening roar of a horde of undead and a massive golem. Nope. It took him being trampled upon by a large amount of these undead to shake him awake. However, once he was awake, he was furious. This was made evident by the massive crag that opened up under a section of the army and slammed closed again, crushing the undead bodies. With a roar, the dwarf beheaded another of the disgusting beings.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Ketarn gave pause to watch Athiah leave, then quietly slunk in the direction opposite the heart of the fighting. Obviously fleeing was a move that would gain him few friends among these halls, but if Ketarn was to fight he would only do it from a more tactically sound position. Skeletal warriors, their bones creaking and aching as dark forces commanded them to move long after flesh and muscle had long since rotted away, saw fit to block his path; Ketarn saw fit to end their cursed suffering with a snap of his fingers, fireballs zooming forth on command and purging whatever unholy mockery of life still animated those bones.

As he neared his encampment, Ketarn's party had joined him. It was as if they'd been waiting for his signal, hiding in some convenient shadow should the need arise to use them. And if there was ever a need, now was certainly it. Ketarn waved his hand, a signal understood even without words. The group fanned out around him, destroying the approaching undead. Adela stood the closest to Ketarn, the thorny vines encircling her staff animating themselves and lashing at the skeletons, entangling them and pulling their dry, dusty limbs apart.

---

Gauvik brought his axe down, slicing a skeleton's head at the neck. The weapons arc continued through the three undead to its right, finally bisecting the last at the hip as it came to stop. Some rusty old morningstar dinged against Gauvik's shoulder armor, but left more than another dent in its battle-scarred surface. His armor could take the brunt of most attacks, but his head was a much more pressing concern. Rowun spun to face his new attacker, his weapon twirling like a pendulum as he brought it to face his new attacker. The axe blade sliced the skeleton's arm off from the shoulder, but even as it fell to the ground the claw was already scrambling to reattach itself once more. Gauvik had gathered he could not truly kill these creature, no more than he could kill anything that did not die, but he was more than able to leave them in enough pieces that they'd do no more harm, alive or otherwise.

He caught side of Athiah in the chaos, attempting to hamper a nearby group of undead. Another sweep of the battlefield confirmed her bodyguard Rowun had joined the fight as well, but should danger threaten her it was uncertain he could get through the hordes in time. Gauvik began cutting through the waves of bone in Athaih's direction; he suspected she could probably fight, but couldn't imagine she'd done much mob brawling on the royal grounds. He approached, bringing his axe down to slice a skeleton in two from the shoulder. It fell apart with a dusty crash, but the unharmed skull howled and cackled on the ground, its jaws snapping to bite any foolish enough to come close. Gauvik raised an armored boot and brought it down, reducing the skull to grey-white powder.

"Thought you might like some assistance, miss," he asked, bringing the pole of his axe about to block an incoming sweep of a longsword. "Do hope you don't mind."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 16 2011 - 12:29 AM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

"The more the merrier, Gauvik," came Athiah reply as she stabbed through the ribcage of one skeleton and flung it into a group of others. Gauvik soon saw that to her right stood Wyne and Glyne. Glyne was immolating the undead as they came, and Wyne was sending beautiful melodies that cut like knives through the hordes. The liech, Runar, was behind her, smashing any undead that came close enough. Very close to her left side was a hooded figure, who seemed adept at defending himself and by proxy Athiah behind. Still, Gar seemed to make no attempt to go on the offensive. Rowun was nearby, swinging his massive mace like a madman.

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

Once Brithlin had finished his note, he ran over to the group of Athiah. Without further ado, he focused upon singing and playing songs of strength, of courage, of health, and of swiftness. Yes, he much preferred to work in a group. Unfortunately, they seemed to be getting a bit too efficient, as they had torn through the hordes and were getting very near the Iron Golem.

Birodor/Refectory\IC:

"Blasted undead!" roared Brithlin as he caused the ground to become a fist which crushed more skeletons. Finding himself in a short lapse of the battle, and very close to the Iron Golem, he smiled. Birodor the dwarf, slayer of iron demons. Yes, that sounded like a good name. Thus, he used his magic to make the massive being fall flat on its face, or lack of one. At that, he attempted to cause the earth to drill through its torso.

[Lord of Adders Black]

IC: The skull Birodor had hacked off continued to glare and scream at the dwarf. And with its 'eyes' still working, the undead could still see Birodor, albeit from a different perspective. It lashed at the dwarven mage's face with its fingers, all of which had been replaced with razor-edged knives. Perhaps he should not have applied his attention to the golem...

The golem itself was unaffected by Birodor's spell. It was simply too big and too strong to be knocked down so easily, and crushed the earthen drill beneath its feet. Feet which seemed to be moving faster...
There was no doubt, the metal behemoth was building up speed, steadily working itself up into a charge as it powered towards the massed group of Gauvik, Athiah and her entourage, Runar's fireballs bouncing uselessly off it

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOC: Is my guy up the page approved?

[Lord of Adders Black]

OOC: Is my guy up the page approved?

What, Altar? You mean the guy who's been under the approved section for over a week now?

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOC: Oh...

IC: As the creatures exited the tunnel, a harsh, hot wind blew through the camp, followed by a wall of sand which swept away some of the skeletons. A giant scorpion stepped into the Refectory, swaying on its many legs as its tail curled back, claws snapping. Two large, humanoid jackals wielding polearms leapt off it, landing near the closest of the skeletons, which they quickly dismembered, crushing the bones beneath their feet.

On the scorpion, a man sat in a circular saddle on the scorpion, while next to him sat two more humanoids. While they couldn't be made out yet, they were obviously not human. One raised his staff, and a glowing blue fireball streaked towards a skeleton, incinerating it.

Altar had arrived.

IC: Rochare twisted and spun through the crowd, his sword slicing through the bone of the skeletons. Any skulls he he removed his was sure to crush underfoot, "killing" the skeletons as best he could. He made his way towards the gathering group, noticing the iron golem moving towards them.

"Well, they'll need help."

IC: Krieger was with Runar, his blade flashing as the two of them brought down the skeletons, a growing pile of bones in front of them, though they crushed the skulls.

Well, this'll make a nice meal, thought Krigaer.

[Toa of Dancing]

Birodor/Refectory\IC:

"Get the bloody-" began Birodor; however, the rest of his sentence was cut off by the sound of the skeleton's bones being crushed by the earth. "Dumb thin'," he muttered before continuing on his rampage. He caused the earth under a group of the undead to shake violently, keeping any of them from being able to go anywhere. These he charged into and began to crush with his axe.

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

That didn't look good... Brithlin played a tune on his violin as the massive creature charged. Just as it was about to tear through the group, Brithlin's song took effect, causing the Iron Golem to go right through them. Or, more accurately, the group because intangible for a few moments, just long enough for the golem to pass through and continue through, smashing hordes of undead.

[Lord of Adders Black]

IC: Though crushing the skulls of a regular opponent would undoubtedly kill them, the leich and werewolf had not taken into account the sorcerous powers animating the skeletons. Crushing their skulls blinded them as it robbed them of useable eyes, but it didn't kill them. The same magicks that held them together kept them alive. Only total destruction like Altar's preferred vaporisation would stop them. The skeletons around Rochare and Krieger were already beginning to piece themselves together and get up, corroded blades swinging...

The golem was moving too fast to stop and simply walked through the temporarily spectral group. But flakes of rust leapt from its waist like red-brown moths as its entire torso rotated 360 degrees, gigantic arms whirling in an attempt to swipe the group when they became solid again

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Gauvik ducked to the side as the Iron Golem swung around, striking and batting at it with the blade of his axe. He knew about these golems only from the frightened stories he heard drifting through the Refectory, but he knew well enough that merely hitting it with an - albeit a very big axe - probably wouldn't be enough to hurt it. That wasn't his intention, however. He was merely trying to draw the Iron Golem's attention towards himself, and away from the other fighters. Maybe he could grant them a few moments of safety in this unexpectedly hectic atmosphere, maybe even enough to mount a counterattack. Of course, the success of this plan hinged on Gauvik being able to dodge the Golem's attacks, and his armor was meant for protection, not dexterity. Of course, Gauvik was reasonably certain he could outmaneuver this rusting machine even with his armor, and he'd be able to survive at least a few hits.

---

There was a groan up in the rafters, followed by the clinking of glass and metal as empty bottles and tankards dropped down into the fight below. Slowly Elisia Greycliffe, her hair disheveled and unkempt, peered down from where she'd apparently chosen to make her bed. No, she couldn't remember why or how she'd gotten up here, but she was sure it had made sense at some point in her night of drinking and brawling. But those events were of little importance compared to the events unfolding now. Somehow, a war had decided to break out in the hall, and an Iron Golem was marching through the Refectory. Elisia was impressed: usually this sort of thing didn't happen without her involvement.

Either way, it was time to bust some skulls; thankfully, more than enough had been provided for. She tried to pull herself out of her somewhat awkward sleeping place, whilst fumbling for her blade on her belt. Barely yet awake and slightly hungover, Elisia ended up tumbling almost immediately from the beam she was perched on. Not wanting to end up a splattered mess on the floor of the Refectory, she desperately reached out for anything she could grab onto to stop her fall. For a second it seemed fate had chosen to give her a break, for her hands clasped hold of something and she clung to it tight.

Unfortunately, when Elisia opened her eyes, she realized she was clinging to the back of the Iron Golem.

[For Science!]

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

Defense was Brithlin's specialty. He sent out a few shrill notes which pushed the massive creature's fist out of the way just enough so that it would miss the group and likely plow into a few more undead. With the immediate threat dealt with, Brithlin began to attack the golem. Iron? Already rusted, but only on the outside. And thus, the dor set to work, playing a song of decay aimed at the massive creature.

Birodor/Refectory\IC:

"Die, you bloody thin's!" roared the Birodor as he finished crushing another skeleton to dust. Of course, this was the point that a massive warrior of the undead decided to try and kill a certain little dwarf. And thus, the mage's hands were now full of a raging skeleton.

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

Athiah grunted as she bashed a skeleton that tried to attack Brithlin with the flat of her blade. That golem's attack was way too close... The only time she had ever encountered one of these, her entire party had died. Rowun was the only reason she had survived, for he had taken almost a full blow to the body before running away with her. Now... there was a horde of undead too. However, there were dozens of adventurers to help. Hopefully they would survive the day.

[Paragon of Demacia]

Name: Nero
Age: 50
Race: Human, humie, paleskin, etc etc
Gender: Male
Class: Nominally Mage, functionally a Royal
Equipment: Nothing but his invocation tome.
Appearance: Tall, pale. Grey hair, blue eyes. Wears a black trenchcoat 1600 years before they were invented.
Personality: Cold, forbidding, everything about him squeals 'stay away from me'. And that's the way he likes it. Beyond this, though, he is something of a scientist, a mad one. And not the comical Doc Brown kind, but of the more Doctors-without-(Moral)Borders kind.
Alignment: NE
Bio: Nero was a mage ensconced away in a tower once upon a time. However, he didn't work on making a fireball or a lightning bolt, or whatever other people did. He tried something different, something new. He experimented on the living, on beasts. Any beast, any manner possible. Then obligatory lab accident. He survived, though when he woke, he woke... hungry. Vicious. Five different minds, bestial in nature, were sharing his body, demanding, clamoring to be fed. And that's why he's here. To feed, to eat. He feels that the remnants of this empire would provide a good feast for his friends, enough to satiate them.

Power-

Though he's nominally a mage, he has no training in the way of tossing fireballs and whatnot. He can, however, call on the beasts residing within him, five in total. He can fully extricate them from his body to act autonomously, or conjure up an aspect, like changing his hand into a wolf's claw. He can only manifest three total forms at once either way. For example, having beast A while using beast B's claw, or having both A and B out, etc. Switching between them rapidly is a tiring process, though. Aside from this, he's a vanilla mortal. Hence why he's functionally Royal. The beasts can be harmed, and have to incubate inside Nero to heal. The beasts are:

Drake - Mage - Not a full dragon, per se. More like a baby / child dragon, about the size of a fully grown man, wingspan being thrice as long as a man. Not fully developed its physical prowess, though its fire is devastating. It may not possess the control of a fire mage (Or any, for that matter), but it can provide heck a lot more fire, despite its youngness. HELLFIRE, DARKFIRE, AND NOW, GYPSY, YOU SHALL BE MIIIIINE

Crab - Champion - GIANT ENEMY CRAB. Half as high as a man, twice as wide as them. Heavily armored, deadly claws.

Wolf - Fighter - A dire wolf. Nothing too fancy.

Bear - Champion - IT'S A BEAR. A ton of pure muscle and fat and claws.

Snake - Fighter - Slithery. As strong and long as a python, with ACID POISON, capable of spitting it, too.

[actually trying something different]

Edited by Undying Light of the Lake, Nov 21 2011 - 11:09 PM.

[Lord of Adders Black]

IC: The golem seemed to realise Gauvik was to agile for its lumbering for to catch on its own, so grabbed a nearby table. Each table in the Refectory was designed to seat about twenty each side. They were big, and solid oak. But the golem hoisted it up and swung it like a broadsword at Gauvik, ignoring Elisia on its back

[Toast of Awesomeness]

IC: Krigaer did, in fact, notice this.

He considered using magic on them, but decided his didn't quite need it yet.


Now, the skeletons may still be alive, but since their skulls were crushed, if he got rid of their legs and arms, they'd be pretty much done.

So that's what he did, slicing through bone and smashing it into dust.

IC: Rochare was a mad man, whirling and spinning as he sliced the skeletons apart. He reached out a hand, and crushed one's skull beneath it. He dismembered the ones near him, cutting them completely apart, fire flashing from his hand to burn them to ashes.

IC: The Jackal warriors moved near the iron golem, staying out of reach, pole arms extended. One darted forward and seized the human on its back, pulling her to safety as they resumed their attack.

The two Djinn began focusing their energy, while the scorpion lifted its tail high.

Suddenly, the servants of Anubis leaped up and kicked the golem together, sending it stumbling forward with their powerful legs. It whirled around, eyes blazing as they backed off.

Suddenly, a bolt of blue fire struck it in the chest, knocking it back.

The scorpion flicked its tail, spurting acidic venom onto the golem, which began to eat away at him.

Then another huge bolt of fire struck the golem, setting alight the acidic venom. The Djinn's magic kept it burning just as hot as it enveloped him, the metal beginning to soften....

Edited by Toast of Awesomeness, Nov 22 2011 - 09:58 AM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

Interesting... These beings just might help. Maybe his song of decay would work with their attacks... Yes, that would be nice.

[Paragon of Demacia]

IC: Fire. Fire, hotter than hot, fluidly flowed towards the golem, targeting its right leg. It wasn't the piddling sort that magicians were so fond of calling, nothing less than the primordial forces called by a dragon. A sustained stream of the liquid fury hissed and burbled out of a black-scaled dragon's jaws. Its head reared back, hissing, as it ducked under a lumbering swing. It sinuously spun on the spot, still keeping up the deadly stream. If one cared to look, they would have seen that its neck ended, not at a majestic plumage of scales, but at a man's shoulder.

Nero kept his distance, calmly allowing the dragon-aspect to work its power.

[Lord of Adders Black]

OOC: Was giving Chronicler a chance to reply, but we'll just move on

IC: The two Anubite warriors hadn't really thought their attack through. Kicking ten feet of solid metal with the more vulnerable bones of digitigrade legs wasn't exactly the smartest move. They were forced to limp away, sprained or broken ankles meaning they were out of the fight.
The combined attacks were taking their toll on the golem though. The twinned effects of the dragon-fire and song of decay were giving it trouble with its right leg, almost mirroring the wounds of the Anubites. It dropped onto one knee as though proposing, but continued to swing the massive table, which now had the added worry of being on fire

[Toast of Awesomeness]

IC: The Djinn kept blasting blue fire onto the golem, continuing to weaken it, while the Anubites straightened up, their bones realigning. They had misjudged the hardness of the metal, it's true, but the golem had misjudged their regenerative abilities as well.