The Siege of Oceansford: Open War for the Mighty
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Vapor
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1-up Salesman
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OOC: I've been waiting for Gale, or Repster to post a "getting ready" or "omeh gosh here they start to come" post before my armies attack. If you want me to go ahead and start, I will. To get things started a bit farther, I'll do this:
"Heh heh, I can't wait for the killing," Zeten Aranos laughed to himself. He continued walking with his army, joyful with the thought of all the bloodshed there was going to be. And then he looked up to a suprise. The castle was in sight. Far, but in sight. "The perfect time to start the attack," Zeten said.
"Karshetk, come here you stupid slow little idiot!" Zeten screamed through the mass of his army. After this was said, there was a faint sound of feet against the grass and dirt as Karshetk, Zeten's Aerial Squad leader, ran to him.
"Yes, my master? What is your will?" Karshetk had dark, purple-ish skin, humanoid with large bat-like wings of a wide span. As he spoke his open mouth exposed large, sharp fangs. He had batlike ears, also having claws on his hands and feet.
“Thanks for showing up,” Zeten sarcastically muttered. “The time is drawing near that we will attack Oceansford, and take their belongings. But to do this right, we need strategy. My plan is to start with an aerial attack-something the people of Oceansford won’t expect, and something I wouldn’t think they would be capable of defending themselves from. I have chosen you for the job. Are your men already prepared?”
“Yes, my master,” Karshetk replied.
“Good. Don’t fail or their will be great punishment. Now, get your men and go.”
“As you wish.” Karshetk stepped throught the crowd of minions and reached his squad. His team consisted of about fifty creatures of the same species as Karshetk, all dressed in armor.
Zeten looked on as purple shapes swooped through the clouds to the great castle Oceansford. It felt as if Zeten could already hear the peoples’ screams. He smiled.
"Heh heh, I can't wait for the killing," Zeten Aranos laughed to himself. He continued walking with his army, joyful with the thought of all the bloodshed there was going to be. And then he looked up to a suprise. The castle was in sight. Far, but in sight. "The perfect time to start the attack," Zeten said.
"Karshetk, come here you stupid slow little idiot!" Zeten screamed through the mass of his army. After this was said, there was a faint sound of feet against the grass and dirt as Karshetk, Zeten's Aerial Squad leader, ran to him.
"Yes, my master? What is your will?" Karshetk had dark, purple-ish skin, humanoid with large bat-like wings of a wide span. As he spoke his open mouth exposed large, sharp fangs. He had batlike ears, also having claws on his hands and feet.
“Thanks for showing up,” Zeten sarcastically muttered. “The time is drawing near that we will attack Oceansford, and take their belongings. But to do this right, we need strategy. My plan is to start with an aerial attack-something the people of Oceansford won’t expect, and something I wouldn’t think they would be capable of defending themselves from. I have chosen you for the job. Are your men already prepared?”
“Yes, my master,” Karshetk replied.
“Good. Don’t fail or their will be great punishment. Now, get your men and go.”
“As you wish.” Karshetk stepped throught the crowd of minions and reached his squad. His team consisted of about fifty creatures of the same species as Karshetk, all dressed in armor.
Zeten looked on as purple shapes swooped through the clouds to the great castle Oceansford. It felt as if Zeten could already hear the peoples’ screams. He smiled.
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Fairlight Excalibur
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Got a present for ya...
Well then...
If a wake-up call is all that is lacking...
-------------------------
"Take aim for the tower! Fire at will!!" Rafael shouted to the bugler standing near him. The horn-wielding musician took a deep puff as he placed the instrument to this lips and blasted out a short series of rapid, frantic, high-pitched notes. The 'bombard' melody blared out from the tower of the Deathstroke, and the already prepped siege engines unleashed their barrage.
Ballista bolts, catapult stones, large rocks chucked by Gonthor... all came sailing through the air in one accord, mostly directed at the eastern great tower. The incoming projectiles smashed into, on top of, all around, and through the ancient stone walls of Oceansford, and the crashing debris scattered like leaves in the wind.
Giant, deadly leaves.
The soldiers of Oceansford were rapidly scrambling to their posts, returning fire as much as possible. However, most bows were completely outranged by the siege engines. Only return fire from catapults or ballistas would have much effect... which, as it turns out, Oceansford had lots of. Giant boulders soon came flying out from over the castle walls, propelled by the catapults hidden inside. Ballistas and mangonels came rolling out onto the top of the castle walls, and soon their first volley was also being delivered.
The noise generated by the conflict soon became so loud that Rafael could hear nothing except the sounds of iron and wood smashing all around him. Only by standing less than two feet from his bugler could he make himself heard, and only by incredibly loud bugle calls could commands be issued.
An impeccably aimed shot from a ballista wiped out a catapult less than two hundred feet in front of the Deathstroke. The stationary weapons being used by the enemy castle were much more accurate than the mobile engines that Desertvale employed; however, Rafael's army vastly outgunned the defenders in terms of raw firepower. Nearly three to one was the ratio, and as the primitive ordinance exchanged hands, the wall of Oceansford was taking the beating of a lifetime.
How long should they keep up this bombardment? The longer they waited outside the castle, the worse their chances would be when they got inside. Uprain's words echoed through Rafael's mind:
I see... I misunderstood.Repster wrote:One of two things needed to happen for me to move. Ashenlake gives the command, or the Stone comes under attack.
Since neither have happened yet, I don't have control of Ashenlake and nobody attually said more then "I'ma comming to get ya!" I'm just waiting.
Well then...
If a wake-up call is all that is lacking...
-------------------------
"Take aim for the tower! Fire at will!!" Rafael shouted to the bugler standing near him. The horn-wielding musician took a deep puff as he placed the instrument to this lips and blasted out a short series of rapid, frantic, high-pitched notes. The 'bombard' melody blared out from the tower of the Deathstroke, and the already prepped siege engines unleashed their barrage.
Ballista bolts, catapult stones, large rocks chucked by Gonthor... all came sailing through the air in one accord, mostly directed at the eastern great tower. The incoming projectiles smashed into, on top of, all around, and through the ancient stone walls of Oceansford, and the crashing debris scattered like leaves in the wind.
Giant, deadly leaves.
The soldiers of Oceansford were rapidly scrambling to their posts, returning fire as much as possible. However, most bows were completely outranged by the siege engines. Only return fire from catapults or ballistas would have much effect... which, as it turns out, Oceansford had lots of. Giant boulders soon came flying out from over the castle walls, propelled by the catapults hidden inside. Ballistas and mangonels came rolling out onto the top of the castle walls, and soon their first volley was also being delivered.
The noise generated by the conflict soon became so loud that Rafael could hear nothing except the sounds of iron and wood smashing all around him. Only by standing less than two feet from his bugler could he make himself heard, and only by incredibly loud bugle calls could commands be issued.
An impeccably aimed shot from a ballista wiped out a catapult less than two hundred feet in front of the Deathstroke. The stationary weapons being used by the enemy castle were much more accurate than the mobile engines that Desertvale employed; however, Rafael's army vastly outgunned the defenders in terms of raw firepower. Nearly three to one was the ratio, and as the primitive ordinance exchanged hands, the wall of Oceansford was taking the beating of a lifetime.
How long should they keep up this bombardment? The longer they waited outside the castle, the worse their chances would be when they got inside. Uprain's words echoed through Rafael's mind:
Captain Uprain]When we have closed sufficient distance to the castle wrote:
The sun will reach its highest point in another twenty minutes or so... hmmm?!
It was then that Rafael noticed something that alarmed him. Some soldiers had emerged on the rooftop of the central keep of Oceansford, and they were hurriedly removing some sort of tarp covering from a massive object fixed to the roof.
The men on the roof yanked the tarp completely off, unveiling the most incredibly oversized ballista that this planet had ever seen. It completely dwarfed the machines on board the Deathstroke; the range and firepower of this weapon could not be exaggerated
:(
The weapon was already loaded, with an appropriately giant bolt fully prepared to launch. The rooftop squad quickly gathered around their titanic missile and laid their weight into it, slowly rotating the behemoth to face the proper direction. They aimed the weapon directly at the Deathstroke.
:eek:
At the command of the officer on the roof, the soldiers pulled the firing pin out of the device, and the taut rope sprang forward. The stored inertia was unleashed, and the arrow rocketed down the guideboard of the weapon. The projectile was immediately airborne, soaring across the sky on a direct collision course with the Deathstroke.
:omg:
Rafael had no time to think. He looked down at the sword he was carrying, and silently prayed to himself that it still worked, and furthermore, that it was strong enough to do what he had in mind. With a running start, Rafael literally leapt off the command platform of the Deathstroke, sailing through the air to inhuman heights. Once again, his gravitational advantage allowed him to achieve heights otherwise unheard of.
He was already three stories up when he jumped from the command tower, but he gained nearly two and a half more from his otherworldly jump. His aim was fortunately right on - he was staring down the incoming bolt, which was about to impale him right out of the air.
I REALLY HOPE THIS WORKS!! AAAAAAHHHH!!!!
Rafael swung his sword like a baseball bat, and it cracked into the front the incoming projectile. The thin little sword swung easily through air, slicing through the wind like a knife and whipping into the bolt head-on.
The gravitron instantly lit up and hummed to life as it did its work; immediately, an intense wave of gravitational energy vaulted forward from the sword and literally threw the bolt back in the direction it had come from. The arrow shot in the opposite direction, tumbling through the air towards Oceansford's keep.
That was not all. The wave energy released by the gravitron interfered not only with gravitational energy, but also with all other waves in the area of effect. The light waves were magnified, resulting in a split second blinding flash right at the point of contact between the sword and the arrow, which attracted the attention of every single soldier on the battlefield, be they from Oceansford, Desertvale, or anywhere else. The sun flare was so bright that Rafael himself could hardly see for a moment afterwards, momentarily losing sight of the missile.
All of Desertvale's soldiers - including Rikon, Velmuth, and the Triad - stared in awe as the Hero from the Sky proved himself to just that, flying triumphantly through the air and knocking down an enemy projectile that otherwise would have destroyed their capital ship. Their mouths gaped open as it seemed that their legend really was true, that this man had truly been sent by the gods.
The sound waves, as it happens, were also magnified, and if the brilliant flash had not garnered the attention of every man present, the magnificently loud clanging of metal on metal high above the field definitely would have. The impact was heard all across the battlefield, a resounding smash that added even more dramatic effect to this illusion of heroic strength.
For a split second, Rafael was stunned just to be alive, but quickly regained his alertness as he began dropping towards the soil.
"BOOOYAAHH, BABY!!!"
The magnification of the sound waves carried his taunting all the way across the battlefield, dwarfing the shouts of other officers, swallowing the various cries of pain and shock that came from below, quelling the sounds of clashing arms, and entering right into the ears of every soldier on the battlefield, and... right into the command chamber of Stone Ashenlake himself.
---------------------------
"BOOOYAAHH, BABY!!!"
Stone Ashenlake did not know the meaning of these declarations coming from the sky, but he hurried to the nearest window and peered at the raging battle outside.
It was then that he noticed a small object approaching on the horizon, but he could not identify it. Whatever it was, however, he could discern that it was coming in his direction.
:(
After a few moments, it had come close enough for him to identify as a ballista bolt. A VERY large ballista bolt. It was going to hit his tower.
:eek:
Not just his tower, but in fact the very window where he was standing! He dove away the window mere moments before the bolt was about to collide.
:omg:
The giant iron-tipped timber came smashing the wall with thunderous results, knocking lose chunks of brick, cement, stone, and mortar, creating an indoor hurricane as the debris flew wildly into every corner of the room. The bolt itself crashed onto the floor of the chamber and skidded across the cement, coming to a stop only after it had bashed into the wall on the opposite side and shook the entire tower to its very foundation.
After waiting a few moments for any other surprises to fly over, Stone peeked his head out of the newly formed door in the wall of his tower. There, far off in the distance, was one man, still falling toward the ground below. The entire army was cheering wildly for a few moments after the impact, though they soon resumed their duties of bombarding the castle.
Stone Ashenlake scowled.
First blood had been drawn.
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Galefore
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Vapor
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Galefore
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Well, since the traveler has essentially already made the esteemed and angry lord of the castle react (with a scowl, no less), you could probably go ahead and launch your initial attack on the walls... After all, at this point you have but to wait for the walls to be breached for the exciting part (SUPERSOLDIER ONE ON ONE TONIGHT ONLY BE THERE BE THERE BE THERE).
Also, I would like to note that since the attacking armies are not technically allied, you are free to become pissed with each other and fight amongst yourselves. After all, with the only big opponent you have being a mod with writer's block (much to my chagrin) and his fellow ultrawarrior mod buddy, your options for epic showdowns run thin quickly.
FORM A MYTHOS, MY FRIENDS. A MYTHOS.
Also, I would like to note that since the attacking armies are not technically allied, you are free to become pissed with each other and fight amongst yourselves. After all, with the only big opponent you have being a mod with writer's block (much to my chagrin) and his fellow ultrawarrior mod buddy, your options for epic showdowns run thin quickly.
FORM A MYTHOS, MY FRIENDS. A MYTHOS.
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1-up Salesman
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"BOOOYAAHH, BABY!!!"
Karshetk alerted himself as he heard the words echo throughout the sky. Karshetk looked down at the castle Oceansford to see the shape of a man dropping down from the sky and into the castle, the soldiers jumping up with suprise.
"It appears someone else has already attacked," Karshetk mused to himself. "Interesting..."
"My soldiers, get ready to attack! Do not falter; kill anyone in sight! Do not spare any!"
The dark mass in the sky of bat creatures reached the castle, creatures swooping down as the soldiers yelled out in terror.
Karshetk swooped down on to the archers up at the top of the castle, sending claws into their bodies spreading blood running down the outside castle walls. The men screamed as they tried to run away from the destructive beasts.
The bats grabbed the running men by the claws of their feet, throwing them off the edge to their doom. "Alert the others!" one of the archers yelled, the men running down through the castle to spread the word of the aerial attack.
Zeten Aranos smiled as he watched the soldiers attack.
Karshetk drove his claws through the men, finishing off all the remaining archers he could find.
Zeten turned to his army. "Men, GET READY TO ATTACK!!!"
Karshetk alerted himself as he heard the words echo throughout the sky. Karshetk looked down at the castle Oceansford to see the shape of a man dropping down from the sky and into the castle, the soldiers jumping up with suprise.
"It appears someone else has already attacked," Karshetk mused to himself. "Interesting..."
"My soldiers, get ready to attack! Do not falter; kill anyone in sight! Do not spare any!"
The dark mass in the sky of bat creatures reached the castle, creatures swooping down as the soldiers yelled out in terror.
Karshetk swooped down on to the archers up at the top of the castle, sending claws into their bodies spreading blood running down the outside castle walls. The men screamed as they tried to run away from the destructive beasts.
The bats grabbed the running men by the claws of their feet, throwing them off the edge to their doom. "Alert the others!" one of the archers yelled, the men running down through the castle to spread the word of the aerial attack.
Zeten Aranos smiled as he watched the soldiers attack.
Karshetk drove his claws through the men, finishing off all the remaining archers he could find.
Zeten turned to his army. "Men, GET READY TO ATTACK!!!"
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VG_Addict
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Nightshade looked at the entrance of the castle, and saw that two guards were just outside. He turned to Raji, Balkin, Tako, Takeshi, and Goofball, all 5 men waiting for his order. "OK, I'll teleport over there and take out the guards, and then you guys will be free to enter. Understood?" Nightshade whispered. The men just nodded as they hid behind bushes and watched, as Nightshade teleported to the front of the castle, right behind the guard on the right, and grabbed him by both sides of his head. The last thing the guard heard was the snapping of his own neck, as he fell to the ground, dead. The other guard saw this, and drew his spear, ready to attack. The trench-coated man kicked the guard in the jaw, beheading him, and getting blood on him, as crimson blood poured out of the stump.
Nightshade then motioned to the others, and with a speed matched only by the Flash, ran out of the bushes and inside the castle. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar face, Zeten Aranos. The man who killed those kids in Twilight Town, just before his fight with him. The trench-coated man took a silent vow to avenge those kids, and pointed at Zeten, to show him that he saw him, and was more than ready to fight.
Nightshade then motioned to the others, and with a speed matched only by the Flash, ran out of the bushes and inside the castle. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar face, Zeten Aranos. The man who killed those kids in Twilight Town, just before his fight with him. The trench-coated man took a silent vow to avenge those kids, and pointed at Zeten, to show him that he saw him, and was more than ready to fight.
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1-up Salesman
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OOC: Please don't turn this into a battle between us, Nightshade.
Zeten looked to see Nightshade, greeted by Nightshade looking back at Zeten. Nightshade pointed at Zeten- a signal to show that he saw him.
"Oh, great, it's you..." Zeten said. "Listen, I don't have time for this! We'll fight another time."
Zeten looked to see Nightshade, greeted by Nightshade looking back at Zeten. Nightshade pointed at Zeten- a signal to show that he saw him.
"Oh, great, it's you..." Zeten said. "Listen, I don't have time for this! We'll fight another time."
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Repster
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Ooc: Well, this'll do for a start. As always, grammatical, and spelling errors should be littered all over the place. For no lack of trying to find them.
The small armored one stroked heet'kro's neck. He hungered fro blood. Dir'creoh could feel it, as the same blood lust ran threw his veins.
The shaggy beat gave a low growl. Heet'kro was an amalgam of beasts. Tiger, Leopard, Cheetah, Lion, Hyena, Wolverine, Bovine, Bear. All in one large, four legged, horned, lion maned thick furred beast. Dir'creoh adjusted the rough saddle on the beasts back. Rough, but sturdy and battle proven time and time again.
Slightly smaller then three and a half feet, the reptile did not look very imposing. Even clad in full plate, two sword looking for two large for him on his back. The two blades at his side looked more akin to overly long daggers then true swords. The "stinger" on his armored tail however, that was a nasty looking thing. Dir'creoh adjusted his strangely marked armor, and hopped on his mount. A smile, or close to it, crept up on Heet'kro's lips as the beast rose and readied itself to pounce.
Growls, and low roars filled the area behind them. The strange kobold smile, his far more developed tail then his brethren whip back and forth as he pulled his spear from the ground and perched himself. Soon the call would come, and soon he would be unleashed again. It had been far to long.
-_-_- -_-_- -_-_-
Knight stood atop the wall, as the enemy forces gathered. His seven foot tall frame encases in layer upon layer upon layer of armor. Covered iron to outfit a dozen men in full plate, with enought material left over for they're side arms to, he watched. As the bombardment started, as siege engines warred against each other, he watched. His lance in hand.
Below held one of the horse lines. Destriers all of them, armored from head to tail to hoof, close to the gate. His Cataphracts armored much like there mounts, weapons in hand and at the ready. They would be mounted in a moments notice, out the gates, and crashing into the opposing force by the time the rest of the cavalry was organized and ready to strike. This did not speak ill for the rest, as the Stone held one of the finest forces imaginable, but more to the good of these elite.
Fluffykins stood tall and riderless with a pair of men holding her brittle. She towered over the other horses, the tallest at 17 hands. Even the draft horse bred for strength and power to haul siege equipment were dwarfed by her 24 hands of height. Fully armored, much like her rider in more layer and quantity then any of the destriers, there was easily more then two tonnes of horse flesh and steel standing there peacefully.
He cursed. His gruff voice like the cold iron that covered his body. Seven years had dull those fools at the tower. Anticipation and fear had made the bring out the largest balista far to soon. he watched as the "bolt" launched and headed towards the Deathstrike.
The impact resonated through his armor. They had struck out at Lord Ashenlake. He turned and dropped crashing next to Fluffykins.
"MOUNT!" His voice rang out that single word before being drowned out in the dim of battle once again. With impossible agility he lept on the horse. As his men followed suit.
Knight knew far to well that his lord would not fall by such a simple thing as the colossal balista bolt being sent at him. However, such a thing would not go unpunished.
"BOOOYAAHH, BABY!!!"
Rafael's cry drowned out the sound the the gate being thrown open as Knight and his cataphracts rode though in a tunderous roar of hooves and armor. Rafael saw them first. A mass of steel and iron heading straight for him. Cavalry that made Harlock's heaviest seem clad in leather. All of it aimed at him and the Deathstrike. All of it headed by three tonnes of steel, iron, bronze, horse, and man., concentrated on one lance point looking to pierce rafael's heart. He made a rather shocking realization. To use the fallen star was not a desirable option. Block the lance, and the wood haft would shatter, and he would be trampled. Try and strike the horse, dodge the lance, and the rider would fall on him. Not to mention the hundred behind Knight. Well, they were closing in fast and he needed to figure out some way out of there fa-
What. is. that!
Wolves, tigers, bears, lions, hyenas, and countless beast know for savage relentless speed and ferocity, all of them BIG, all of them with a goblin, halfling, kobold, and all manner of little folk all with a bow. The flooded out in a mass of fang and fur from the gate, and from above the wall. These were not the organized Cataphracts. It was a horde of beasts. At the forfront, already passing Knight, was Dir'creoh propelled by Heet'kro demonic speed.
Arrows began raining into ALL of deservales allied forces as the beast broke off into pack and started hit and run skirmish tactics. The light weight riders, and ferocity and speed their mounts catching the army by surprise. The less trained horse panicked and brough the kill count up that much faster. Of course, the beast took loses as well, but for evey annimal took down, it brought more soldiers with it. After all, the wounder beast is the most dangerous. The smell of blood that spilled only served to further rill up the beasts.
As the beast tore threw the forces of general Velmuth, a few got trought the lines and climbed up and into the Deathstrike to reak havoc. After all, few things could climb as well and quickly as a beast with the right motivation. Dir'creoh himself was one of those that got into the giant siege engine, and as his soldier ran seeking anything to kill, he went in deeper. His blades, and heet'kro's fangs, horns, and claws, seeking the soft flesh of those that would be needed to maintained the heart monstrocity.
And the Knight and his Cataphracts joined the fray.
-_-_- -_-_- -_-_-
Laharl was feeling ignored. All the action was going on over there. That was until his mages fell over dead. No, not quite fell as the three javelins that took each in the chest threw them back quite a bit.
Nine squads stood before his troops engaged in combat, halting there advance. How had they not seen them coming? A woman was in the center of each group. shields locked together they advanced slowly, the phalanx opening only for when more then an overhead spear thrust was needed, and then closed tight immediately afterwards. Thirteen in each groupd, they should not be to difficult to deal with once-
"DOOOOOOOD!"
Larharl turned and saw one more enemy stabbing at the prinny with a long spear of bone. Bone like that of the wings protruding from here back, from afar they would look aganlic until one realizes that she is featherless and the illusion of full wings was brought by oh so many bones being tied together. Here breastplate, greaves, bracers, all of it, layered bone. He long, bleached bone white, hair was in a thick braid with a lumpy mass of some form of dark hard metal at the tip.
The prinny ran about holding the button aloft as she chased it around Laharl Etna and Flonne. He also saw another three groups behind and to each of his flanks. He was surrounded. How had they gotten this close without being noticed?
The small armored one stroked heet'kro's neck. He hungered fro blood. Dir'creoh could feel it, as the same blood lust ran threw his veins.
The shaggy beat gave a low growl. Heet'kro was an amalgam of beasts. Tiger, Leopard, Cheetah, Lion, Hyena, Wolverine, Bovine, Bear. All in one large, four legged, horned, lion maned thick furred beast. Dir'creoh adjusted the rough saddle on the beasts back. Rough, but sturdy and battle proven time and time again.
Slightly smaller then three and a half feet, the reptile did not look very imposing. Even clad in full plate, two sword looking for two large for him on his back. The two blades at his side looked more akin to overly long daggers then true swords. The "stinger" on his armored tail however, that was a nasty looking thing. Dir'creoh adjusted his strangely marked armor, and hopped on his mount. A smile, or close to it, crept up on Heet'kro's lips as the beast rose and readied itself to pounce.
Growls, and low roars filled the area behind them. The strange kobold smile, his far more developed tail then his brethren whip back and forth as he pulled his spear from the ground and perched himself. Soon the call would come, and soon he would be unleashed again. It had been far to long.
-_-_- -_-_- -_-_-
Knight stood atop the wall, as the enemy forces gathered. His seven foot tall frame encases in layer upon layer upon layer of armor. Covered iron to outfit a dozen men in full plate, with enought material left over for they're side arms to, he watched. As the bombardment started, as siege engines warred against each other, he watched. His lance in hand.
Below held one of the horse lines. Destriers all of them, armored from head to tail to hoof, close to the gate. His Cataphracts armored much like there mounts, weapons in hand and at the ready. They would be mounted in a moments notice, out the gates, and crashing into the opposing force by the time the rest of the cavalry was organized and ready to strike. This did not speak ill for the rest, as the Stone held one of the finest forces imaginable, but more to the good of these elite.
Fluffykins stood tall and riderless with a pair of men holding her brittle. She towered over the other horses, the tallest at 17 hands. Even the draft horse bred for strength and power to haul siege equipment were dwarfed by her 24 hands of height. Fully armored, much like her rider in more layer and quantity then any of the destriers, there was easily more then two tonnes of horse flesh and steel standing there peacefully.
He cursed. His gruff voice like the cold iron that covered his body. Seven years had dull those fools at the tower. Anticipation and fear had made the bring out the largest balista far to soon. he watched as the "bolt" launched and headed towards the Deathstrike.
The impact resonated through his armor. They had struck out at Lord Ashenlake. He turned and dropped crashing next to Fluffykins.
"MOUNT!" His voice rang out that single word before being drowned out in the dim of battle once again. With impossible agility he lept on the horse. As his men followed suit.
Knight knew far to well that his lord would not fall by such a simple thing as the colossal balista bolt being sent at him. However, such a thing would not go unpunished.
"BOOOYAAHH, BABY!!!"
Rafael's cry drowned out the sound the the gate being thrown open as Knight and his cataphracts rode though in a tunderous roar of hooves and armor. Rafael saw them first. A mass of steel and iron heading straight for him. Cavalry that made Harlock's heaviest seem clad in leather. All of it aimed at him and the Deathstrike. All of it headed by three tonnes of steel, iron, bronze, horse, and man., concentrated on one lance point looking to pierce rafael's heart. He made a rather shocking realization. To use the fallen star was not a desirable option. Block the lance, and the wood haft would shatter, and he would be trampled. Try and strike the horse, dodge the lance, and the rider would fall on him. Not to mention the hundred behind Knight. Well, they were closing in fast and he needed to figure out some way out of there fa-
What. is. that!
Wolves, tigers, bears, lions, hyenas, and countless beast know for savage relentless speed and ferocity, all of them BIG, all of them with a goblin, halfling, kobold, and all manner of little folk all with a bow. The flooded out in a mass of fang and fur from the gate, and from above the wall. These were not the organized Cataphracts. It was a horde of beasts. At the forfront, already passing Knight, was Dir'creoh propelled by Heet'kro demonic speed.
Arrows began raining into ALL of deservales allied forces as the beast broke off into pack and started hit and run skirmish tactics. The light weight riders, and ferocity and speed their mounts catching the army by surprise. The less trained horse panicked and brough the kill count up that much faster. Of course, the beast took loses as well, but for evey annimal took down, it brought more soldiers with it. After all, the wounder beast is the most dangerous. The smell of blood that spilled only served to further rill up the beasts.
As the beast tore threw the forces of general Velmuth, a few got trought the lines and climbed up and into the Deathstrike to reak havoc. After all, few things could climb as well and quickly as a beast with the right motivation. Dir'creoh himself was one of those that got into the giant siege engine, and as his soldier ran seeking anything to kill, he went in deeper. His blades, and heet'kro's fangs, horns, and claws, seeking the soft flesh of those that would be needed to maintained the heart monstrocity.
And the Knight and his Cataphracts joined the fray.
-_-_- -_-_- -_-_-
Laharl was feeling ignored. All the action was going on over there. That was until his mages fell over dead. No, not quite fell as the three javelins that took each in the chest threw them back quite a bit.
Nine squads stood before his troops engaged in combat, halting there advance. How had they not seen them coming? A woman was in the center of each group. shields locked together they advanced slowly, the phalanx opening only for when more then an overhead spear thrust was needed, and then closed tight immediately afterwards. Thirteen in each groupd, they should not be to difficult to deal with once-
"DOOOOOOOD!"
Larharl turned and saw one more enemy stabbing at the prinny with a long spear of bone. Bone like that of the wings protruding from here back, from afar they would look aganlic until one realizes that she is featherless and the illusion of full wings was brought by oh so many bones being tied together. Here breastplate, greaves, bracers, all of it, layered bone. He long, bleached bone white, hair was in a thick braid with a lumpy mass of some form of dark hard metal at the tip.
The prinny ran about holding the button aloft as she chased it around Laharl Etna and Flonne. He also saw another three groups behind and to each of his flanks. He was surrounded. How had they gotten this close without being noticed?
When our world is burning.
When all run like the cowards they are.
I shall stand in the inferno, and fight until I am consumed
When all run like the cowards they are.
I shall stand in the inferno, and fight until I am consumed
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1-up Salesman
- Member
- Posts: 4493
- Joined: Sat Apr 19, 2008 8:40 pm
- Location: ar can saw
- Been thanked: 2 times
OoC: Sssweet!!!/
"It's time to shine!!!" Zeten Aranos screamed.
And he ran, his red blade held up in the air, his charging army behind him. There were creatures all about in his army- all of Zeten's creation.
Zeten turned to see Vondun and Silik charging to the gates as well. As the warriors of Oceansford flooded out, Silik's bandages shot out from his body, plunging themselves into the warriors' flesh.
BANG! Vondun fired a blast of his shotgun into the crowd, several knights falling dead.
Zeten fired a blast of magic, knights flying through the air from the impact of the blast.
"Master, how may I aid you?"
Zeten turned his head to see one of the only people aiding him that Zeten himself did not create. But yet the person was more loyal than anything Zeten had ever created. It was his follower, Hiron.
Hiron was a boy- seventeen years old. He had long black hair, two katanas strapped to his back, wearing dark brown pants, black boots, and a brown old-fashioned coat. When Hiron had lost everything he had ever known, similar to what happened to Zeten as a child, Zeten took advantage of Hiron's anger in his loss.
"Kill as many as you can."
Hiron nodded, and charged into battle, his blades a blur as he slashed through the crowds.
A group of bat creatures from Karshetk's army swooped down through the crowds, their claws extended. As they flew back into the air, some carried the soldiers by the claws of their feet, dropping the soldiers to their demise from great height.
Zeten, his red blade gripped firmly in hand, charged.
"It's time to shine!!!" Zeten Aranos screamed.
And he ran, his red blade held up in the air, his charging army behind him. There were creatures all about in his army- all of Zeten's creation.
Zeten turned to see Vondun and Silik charging to the gates as well. As the warriors of Oceansford flooded out, Silik's bandages shot out from his body, plunging themselves into the warriors' flesh.
BANG! Vondun fired a blast of his shotgun into the crowd, several knights falling dead.
Zeten fired a blast of magic, knights flying through the air from the impact of the blast.
"Master, how may I aid you?"
Zeten turned his head to see one of the only people aiding him that Zeten himself did not create. But yet the person was more loyal than anything Zeten had ever created. It was his follower, Hiron.
Hiron was a boy- seventeen years old. He had long black hair, two katanas strapped to his back, wearing dark brown pants, black boots, and a brown old-fashioned coat. When Hiron had lost everything he had ever known, similar to what happened to Zeten as a child, Zeten took advantage of Hiron's anger in his loss.
"Kill as many as you can."
Hiron nodded, and charged into battle, his blades a blur as he slashed through the crowds.
A group of bat creatures from Karshetk's army swooped down through the crowds, their claws extended. As they flew back into the air, some carried the soldiers by the claws of their feet, dropping the soldiers to their demise from great height.
Zeten, his red blade gripped firmly in hand, charged.
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Fairlight Excalibur
- Member
- Posts: 879
- Joined: Sat Nov 28, 2009 6:20 am
- Location: LA
Retaliation
Rafael figured that his lucky shot would result in retaliation of some sort... but this was a whole heck of lot more than he had anticipated. It seemed that the incoming hoard of beasts had been unleashed literally at the moment of impact, and from his five story high vantage point, he could actually see the teeming masses of beasts and demons gathering behind the gate, ready to attack.
Too late.
By the time Rafael had fallen back to the soil, the gates had opened, and Oceansford's fury had been unleashed. The rampaging knights, horses, phalanxes, and cataphracts charging at him were unnerving; were he not a combat veteran, he would have frozen in fear. As he observed their approach, he started making tracks back to the Deathstroke in a hurry.
Rafael was not very worried, or at least not yet. With his entire battalion in front of him, it would be quite some time before any enemy soldiers could bother him. Still it seemed expedient to him to back to the Deathstroke, where he could at least observe the entire conflict. The sounds of the engagement behind him grew closer as the beasts and knights encountered his own forces, and the fight was most definitely on. Rafael thought it best to return to his 'vehicle' where he could issue commands without the constant threat of being skewered.
Speaking of getting skewered, he realized that the pounding hoofbeats of the enemy sounded much closer now than they had before. He whirled around and stared in shock at the massive horseman that was about to trample him. This guy was big. As in, like, BIG. SUPERBIG. About the same size as Velmuth, to be precise, and his horse was no exception. Rafael quickly processed his options and realized that his gravsword would be a bad idea... but he had something better in mind.
He stood at the ready as the knight charged him, having concocted an idea of how to forcibly dismount this titanic soldier. Just a little closer...
His plan was interrupted when a number of the beast riding little orcs passed the knight, moving at blistering speeds. There were only fourteen or so in front of him... the rest were still engaged at the front, or else cut down as they made their mad dash toward the Deathstroke.
Forget this!
The giant knight would have to wait. Rafael turned and ran for the Deathstroke at a full sprint, his boots digging into the ground as he hauled tail across the dirt. He was almost to the Deathstroke... just a little farther...
Behind him, one of the beast riders had identified him as the enemy commander. The imp had drawn his bow and was targeting Rafael's backside as he made the run for cover. Easy prey... the kobold took aim at let the arrow fly.
Rather than climb the ladders on the side of the Deathstroke or use the troop entrance, Rafael made a flying leap, skipping the first story entirely and landing on the second floor deck. A single arrow zipped underneath him as he left the ground, saved once again by his unnatural agility.
The first level of the Deathstroke was sealed shut, with no entrances to the iron hulk to be found. However, the second deck was open air, so the marauding beastmen scampered up the wall. They snickered as they completely ignored the ladders - they did not need them. Even though Rafael had just escaped from the beast riders, he found them assaulting his engine the moment he landed on it.
The beasts were climbing up all sides of the Deathstroke, and although they were far outnumbered, they were at a decided advantage. Having brought their steeds right up the side wall, they charged inside the engine, seeking to slaughter the engineers. Dir-creoh himself charged through the machine, killing the operators left and right. The engineers all carried weapons but Dir-creoh's men were too much. There was no contest as they butchered everything in sight.
Until they ran smack into the Triad.
The three wizards watched from under their hoods as the beasts killed the last soldier in the left-most boiler room. After the massacre, Dir-creoh approahed the engine hastily and was about to drive an axe through one of the pipes.
"That's far enough."
The beastmen turned as the three wizards entered the room. After the red wizard's initial declaration, they remained silent. The invaders observed them silently for about .0084 seconds before they charged, while Dir-creoh turned back to the important task of disabling the engine. Yet, as he brought his arm up to strike, he found his whole arm completely immobilized. His entire body was frozen in time, suspended by some sort of force that prohibited any form of movement. He could still turn his eyes far enough to look at the rest of his men.
What he saw was very discouraging. The entire group was paralyzed, frozen in a single moment of time that would not end. They could still breath, still see, and still feel. But they could neither move nor speak. The three wizards still had not moved - exactly which one of them was responsible for this hex was impossible to tell.
Then, the red wizard raised his arm and pointed at them, starting with Dir-creoh. The furnace less than six feet from him seemed to explode as the flames inside it came to life, storming up and out the boiler and toward Dir-creoh. The blaze then completely erupted, flash frying the entire room. The heat was unearthly, a blistering roastfest than no natural flame could achieve.
The devastation was immediate, as their skin was ripped from their bones and consumed in less than one second. Clothes, hair, organs, skin, meat and sinew.... all of it consumed in the blink of an eye by the rampaging firestorm that engulfed them. They were gone, with nothing but bones, iron scrap, and a near-dead Dir-creoh left behind.
The flames died down as quickly as they had emerged, compacting themselves back into the furnace as the massive flames shrank to their original size. The wizards stood unharmed, surrounded by an icy mist that warded off the flames. When the fire was completely returned to normal, the blue wizard lowered his recently extended hand and the icy mist began swirling in the air before it seemed to crawl up his sleeve and into his fingertips.
The gold wizard still had not moved.
The three of them left the engine room as quickly as they had entered, with replacement engineers pulled from other boiler rooms running past them to take over the operation.
--------------------------------
Knight had not given up on catching Rafael, but unlike Dir-creoh, he could not simply run up the wall of the great iron beast that Rafael was riding. Instead, he turned back to deal with the army at hand. Rafael's foot soldiers tried in vain to stop his rampage, along with his armada of cataphracts. Charging headlong into Rafael's troops had been effective for the first minute or so of combat as they surged through like a flood, trampling soldiers and beheading every trooper that was foolish enough to interfere.
However, the strategy of sending every man charging at the Deathstroke was back firing. As they smashed their way through the middle of Rafael's unit, the army would reform their ranks and close in behind them. When they did finally reach the Deathstroke, they found that the entire ground level of the machine was completely closed in, a thick wall of iron skirting concealing the entire contraption. The only way in was to scale the ladders on the sides of the machine, and then dropping down into the heart of the machine from the inside.
This was possible for Knight, yes, but it would have to wait. In the middle of a frantic skirmish, he would not able to climb the ladder while being attacked, and even if he did, the soldiers on board the Deathstroke would be waiting atop the ladders to impale any who attempted to climb it.
Knight's company was surrounded on all sides by the army they had smashed through to get to the Deathstroke, but this was a dead end. The could not hope to climb it. Their best means of surviving and damaging Desertvale's armies was to charge again - only by remaining in constant motion could they be effective. To stop was to die.
Knight silently began charging again, this time away from the Deathstroke. He would be back, yes, but not until he could clear enough soldiers out to buy enough time to board the machine. His unit once again smashed through Rafael's forces, crushing and slicing as they went. Desertvale's forces still had yet to come up with an effective counterstrategy.
Strategy, shmategy.
Gonthor's eight hundred pound boulder smashed directly into Knight's torso, bringing him to a dead stop as his horse kept going. The huge soldier slammed into the ground, leaving an impression a foot deep. Moments later, one of Desertvale's lieutenants threw a huge net into the path of Knight's steed, tangling its legs and causing it to crash to the ground. The rest of his unit continued their rampage, killing Desertvale soldiers left right, but unaware that their leader was fallen. His world was thoroughly rocked, disoriented by the incredible concussion of running headlong into what felt like a stone wall. He mumbled nonsensically as he tried to get his bearings. He could make out the sky directly above him, and thus deduced that he was lying on his back.
A few more moments hesitation and his brains returned to him. He was down, behind enemy lines. A normal soldier could do nothing but lie there and die, as the armor was too heavy for him to rise. Knight was different, however, as he rolled over and hoisted himself up. The very moment that he rose, he was again Gonthored. His confusion had provided ample time for the ogre to reclaim his prized rock, and he had wound up for a home run swing. The first hit had been thrown in a hurry to strike the man as he passed; this second blow was delivered with malicious intent, with all the strength that ran through the twenty-five hundred pound ogre. He brought the rock to bear with both hands, jumping into the air and slamming down full force. Rather than swinging to the side or at an angle, this hammer blow was directed straight down, looking as though he meant to drive Knight into the ground like a tent peg. Gonthor howled as his second strike connected.
Knight was crushed under the rock, though certainly not dead. The mammoth swordsman could take quite a beating, but exactly how much of a beating? He was about to find out. After the second smashing, a swarm of Desertvale's swordsmen descended upon him, attacking while he was down, while several others attacked Fluffykins - a steed that big is too dangerous to let live. Knight was now in a three foot deep hole, face down, but attempting to rise once more. The soldiers stabbed at the joints in his armor, aiming to pierce his elbows, knees, armpits, neck, and other exposed areas.
Knight may very well survive the attack, but there was no way in Hades he could do so without taking significant damage. He was badly outnumbered, his horse was snared, and the sharp sword-tips that stabbed at him from all directions were not going to let him get up without a fight.
Gonthor stood back, holding his rock at the ready, gleefully hoping that the enemy would get up again.
-------------------------------------
The squads commanded by Rikon Bladestorm and Targus of Falconridge were farther to the north, and the bulk of this conflict was concentrated to the south. Still, a fair number of beast riders had gone out of their way to engage them. The bow and arrow wielding imps fired a continuous volley of arrows as they charged, resulting in a good number of casualties in both of the units; however, their forces were much smaller than those of Harlock, Velmuth, and Rafael. The vast majority of the arrows hit nothing but dirt, with the mercenaries keeping themselves spread out.
While the hit and run tactics and swarming hoard strategy worked very well against the oraganized armies of Desertvale, the rag-tag mercenaries under Rikon were professionals at this type of warfare. The beast men were being slaughtered left and right as they charged, as the Black Tigers waited til the last possible moment before pelting the small riders with stones, slings, and arrows as they passed. The little kobolds were skewered, stabbed, stomped, and drop-kicked the moment they were dismounted; the ones who were fortunate enough to stay on their steeds were killed anyway, as the Black Tigers surrounded and slaughtered the beastly demon steeds - this was a virtually one-sided massacre.
"Hold your ground!" shouted Rikon as his men butchered the last of the kobolds. "We have our orders. Do not leave this position until the signal is given!"
The ice cold warrior resumed watching the conflict, refusing to budge from his assigned position.
Just to the north, the hardy southern mountaineers under Targus' command had no fear of strange creatures. Most of them were hunters by trade before joining the army to begin with, and the mounted archers of Falconridge employed the same tactics used by the kobolds. The little bows used by the three foot tall creatures could not match the firepower that Targus' rangers used, as their longbows could fire projectiles nearly twice as far as the defending army. The vast majority of the kobolds were cut down by arrows before they could get close, and the rest were mopped up by the various close quarters weapons employed by the rangers.
"To the south!" the hot-headed Targus cried, and his entire unit began galloping toward the primary conflict after their minor victory.
--------------------------------
The very, very few riders that got past Velmuth and Rafael soon encountered Uprain's unit, bringing up the rear.
This conflict was a complete joke as the hailstorm of arrows unleashed by Uprain's men massacred any and all who approached before they even got within a stone's throw.
Uprain watched the position of the sun carefully... time was drawing close.
Rafael figured that his lucky shot would result in retaliation of some sort... but this was a whole heck of lot more than he had anticipated. It seemed that the incoming hoard of beasts had been unleashed literally at the moment of impact, and from his five story high vantage point, he could actually see the teeming masses of beasts and demons gathering behind the gate, ready to attack.
Too late.
By the time Rafael had fallen back to the soil, the gates had opened, and Oceansford's fury had been unleashed. The rampaging knights, horses, phalanxes, and cataphracts charging at him were unnerving; were he not a combat veteran, he would have frozen in fear. As he observed their approach, he started making tracks back to the Deathstroke in a hurry.
Rafael was not very worried, or at least not yet. With his entire battalion in front of him, it would be quite some time before any enemy soldiers could bother him. Still it seemed expedient to him to back to the Deathstroke, where he could at least observe the entire conflict. The sounds of the engagement behind him grew closer as the beasts and knights encountered his own forces, and the fight was most definitely on. Rafael thought it best to return to his 'vehicle' where he could issue commands without the constant threat of being skewered.
Speaking of getting skewered, he realized that the pounding hoofbeats of the enemy sounded much closer now than they had before. He whirled around and stared in shock at the massive horseman that was about to trample him. This guy was big. As in, like, BIG. SUPERBIG. About the same size as Velmuth, to be precise, and his horse was no exception. Rafael quickly processed his options and realized that his gravsword would be a bad idea... but he had something better in mind.
He stood at the ready as the knight charged him, having concocted an idea of how to forcibly dismount this titanic soldier. Just a little closer...
His plan was interrupted when a number of the beast riding little orcs passed the knight, moving at blistering speeds. There were only fourteen or so in front of him... the rest were still engaged at the front, or else cut down as they made their mad dash toward the Deathstroke.
Forget this!
The giant knight would have to wait. Rafael turned and ran for the Deathstroke at a full sprint, his boots digging into the ground as he hauled tail across the dirt. He was almost to the Deathstroke... just a little farther...
Behind him, one of the beast riders had identified him as the enemy commander. The imp had drawn his bow and was targeting Rafael's backside as he made the run for cover. Easy prey... the kobold took aim at let the arrow fly.
Rather than climb the ladders on the side of the Deathstroke or use the troop entrance, Rafael made a flying leap, skipping the first story entirely and landing on the second floor deck. A single arrow zipped underneath him as he left the ground, saved once again by his unnatural agility.
The first level of the Deathstroke was sealed shut, with no entrances to the iron hulk to be found. However, the second deck was open air, so the marauding beastmen scampered up the wall. They snickered as they completely ignored the ladders - they did not need them. Even though Rafael had just escaped from the beast riders, he found them assaulting his engine the moment he landed on it.
The beasts were climbing up all sides of the Deathstroke, and although they were far outnumbered, they were at a decided advantage. Having brought their steeds right up the side wall, they charged inside the engine, seeking to slaughter the engineers. Dir-creoh himself charged through the machine, killing the operators left and right. The engineers all carried weapons but Dir-creoh's men were too much. There was no contest as they butchered everything in sight.
Until they ran smack into the Triad.
The three wizards watched from under their hoods as the beasts killed the last soldier in the left-most boiler room. After the massacre, Dir-creoh approahed the engine hastily and was about to drive an axe through one of the pipes.
"That's far enough."
The beastmen turned as the three wizards entered the room. After the red wizard's initial declaration, they remained silent. The invaders observed them silently for about .0084 seconds before they charged, while Dir-creoh turned back to the important task of disabling the engine. Yet, as he brought his arm up to strike, he found his whole arm completely immobilized. His entire body was frozen in time, suspended by some sort of force that prohibited any form of movement. He could still turn his eyes far enough to look at the rest of his men.
What he saw was very discouraging. The entire group was paralyzed, frozen in a single moment of time that would not end. They could still breath, still see, and still feel. But they could neither move nor speak. The three wizards still had not moved - exactly which one of them was responsible for this hex was impossible to tell.
Then, the red wizard raised his arm and pointed at them, starting with Dir-creoh. The furnace less than six feet from him seemed to explode as the flames inside it came to life, storming up and out the boiler and toward Dir-creoh. The blaze then completely erupted, flash frying the entire room. The heat was unearthly, a blistering roastfest than no natural flame could achieve.
The devastation was immediate, as their skin was ripped from their bones and consumed in less than one second. Clothes, hair, organs, skin, meat and sinew.... all of it consumed in the blink of an eye by the rampaging firestorm that engulfed them. They were gone, with nothing but bones, iron scrap, and a near-dead Dir-creoh left behind.
The flames died down as quickly as they had emerged, compacting themselves back into the furnace as the massive flames shrank to their original size. The wizards stood unharmed, surrounded by an icy mist that warded off the flames. When the fire was completely returned to normal, the blue wizard lowered his recently extended hand and the icy mist began swirling in the air before it seemed to crawl up his sleeve and into his fingertips.
The gold wizard still had not moved.
The three of them left the engine room as quickly as they had entered, with replacement engineers pulled from other boiler rooms running past them to take over the operation.
--------------------------------
Knight had not given up on catching Rafael, but unlike Dir-creoh, he could not simply run up the wall of the great iron beast that Rafael was riding. Instead, he turned back to deal with the army at hand. Rafael's foot soldiers tried in vain to stop his rampage, along with his armada of cataphracts. Charging headlong into Rafael's troops had been effective for the first minute or so of combat as they surged through like a flood, trampling soldiers and beheading every trooper that was foolish enough to interfere.
However, the strategy of sending every man charging at the Deathstroke was back firing. As they smashed their way through the middle of Rafael's unit, the army would reform their ranks and close in behind them. When they did finally reach the Deathstroke, they found that the entire ground level of the machine was completely closed in, a thick wall of iron skirting concealing the entire contraption. The only way in was to scale the ladders on the sides of the machine, and then dropping down into the heart of the machine from the inside.
This was possible for Knight, yes, but it would have to wait. In the middle of a frantic skirmish, he would not able to climb the ladder while being attacked, and even if he did, the soldiers on board the Deathstroke would be waiting atop the ladders to impale any who attempted to climb it.
Knight's company was surrounded on all sides by the army they had smashed through to get to the Deathstroke, but this was a dead end. The could not hope to climb it. Their best means of surviving and damaging Desertvale's armies was to charge again - only by remaining in constant motion could they be effective. To stop was to die.
Knight silently began charging again, this time away from the Deathstroke. He would be back, yes, but not until he could clear enough soldiers out to buy enough time to board the machine. His unit once again smashed through Rafael's forces, crushing and slicing as they went. Desertvale's forces still had yet to come up with an effective counterstrategy.
Strategy, shmategy.
Gonthor's eight hundred pound boulder smashed directly into Knight's torso, bringing him to a dead stop as his horse kept going. The huge soldier slammed into the ground, leaving an impression a foot deep. Moments later, one of Desertvale's lieutenants threw a huge net into the path of Knight's steed, tangling its legs and causing it to crash to the ground. The rest of his unit continued their rampage, killing Desertvale soldiers left right, but unaware that their leader was fallen. His world was thoroughly rocked, disoriented by the incredible concussion of running headlong into what felt like a stone wall. He mumbled nonsensically as he tried to get his bearings. He could make out the sky directly above him, and thus deduced that he was lying on his back.
A few more moments hesitation and his brains returned to him. He was down, behind enemy lines. A normal soldier could do nothing but lie there and die, as the armor was too heavy for him to rise. Knight was different, however, as he rolled over and hoisted himself up. The very moment that he rose, he was again Gonthored. His confusion had provided ample time for the ogre to reclaim his prized rock, and he had wound up for a home run swing. The first hit had been thrown in a hurry to strike the man as he passed; this second blow was delivered with malicious intent, with all the strength that ran through the twenty-five hundred pound ogre. He brought the rock to bear with both hands, jumping into the air and slamming down full force. Rather than swinging to the side or at an angle, this hammer blow was directed straight down, looking as though he meant to drive Knight into the ground like a tent peg. Gonthor howled as his second strike connected.
Knight was crushed under the rock, though certainly not dead. The mammoth swordsman could take quite a beating, but exactly how much of a beating? He was about to find out. After the second smashing, a swarm of Desertvale's swordsmen descended upon him, attacking while he was down, while several others attacked Fluffykins - a steed that big is too dangerous to let live. Knight was now in a three foot deep hole, face down, but attempting to rise once more. The soldiers stabbed at the joints in his armor, aiming to pierce his elbows, knees, armpits, neck, and other exposed areas.
Knight may very well survive the attack, but there was no way in Hades he could do so without taking significant damage. He was badly outnumbered, his horse was snared, and the sharp sword-tips that stabbed at him from all directions were not going to let him get up without a fight.
Gonthor stood back, holding his rock at the ready, gleefully hoping that the enemy would get up again.
-------------------------------------
The squads commanded by Rikon Bladestorm and Targus of Falconridge were farther to the north, and the bulk of this conflict was concentrated to the south. Still, a fair number of beast riders had gone out of their way to engage them. The bow and arrow wielding imps fired a continuous volley of arrows as they charged, resulting in a good number of casualties in both of the units; however, their forces were much smaller than those of Harlock, Velmuth, and Rafael. The vast majority of the arrows hit nothing but dirt, with the mercenaries keeping themselves spread out.
While the hit and run tactics and swarming hoard strategy worked very well against the oraganized armies of Desertvale, the rag-tag mercenaries under Rikon were professionals at this type of warfare. The beast men were being slaughtered left and right as they charged, as the Black Tigers waited til the last possible moment before pelting the small riders with stones, slings, and arrows as they passed. The little kobolds were skewered, stabbed, stomped, and drop-kicked the moment they were dismounted; the ones who were fortunate enough to stay on their steeds were killed anyway, as the Black Tigers surrounded and slaughtered the beastly demon steeds - this was a virtually one-sided massacre.
"Hold your ground!" shouted Rikon as his men butchered the last of the kobolds. "We have our orders. Do not leave this position until the signal is given!"
The ice cold warrior resumed watching the conflict, refusing to budge from his assigned position.
Just to the north, the hardy southern mountaineers under Targus' command had no fear of strange creatures. Most of them were hunters by trade before joining the army to begin with, and the mounted archers of Falconridge employed the same tactics used by the kobolds. The little bows used by the three foot tall creatures could not match the firepower that Targus' rangers used, as their longbows could fire projectiles nearly twice as far as the defending army. The vast majority of the kobolds were cut down by arrows before they could get close, and the rest were mopped up by the various close quarters weapons employed by the rangers.
"To the south!" the hot-headed Targus cried, and his entire unit began galloping toward the primary conflict after their minor victory.
--------------------------------
The very, very few riders that got past Velmuth and Rafael soon encountered Uprain's unit, bringing up the rear.
This conflict was a complete joke as the hailstorm of arrows unleashed by Uprain's men massacred any and all who approached before they even got within a stone's throw.
Uprain watched the position of the sun carefully... time was drawing close.
-
Fairlight Excalibur
- Member
- Posts: 879
- Joined: Sat Nov 28, 2009 6:20 am
- Location: LA
Onslaught
Velmuth's unit was not faring well against the beast riders, but that would soon change. His unit was by far the largest, with thousands of men standing at the ready. While the frontline soldiers were being tore to shreds by Oceansford's demonic cavalry, Velmuth himself was thinking through his options. He pulled aside a bugler and issued some orders, which could barely be heard over the din and chaos of the clashing metal and screaming steeds.
The screeching bugle cry was audible throughout Velmuth's unit, and the battalion responded accordingly. The frontline parted like a wave as the reinforcements were quickly summoned.... chariots. Massive chariots, towering over the ferocious beast riders and propelled by giant armored warhorses that almost looked like they might have been stolen from Knight's unit. The idea was the same - giant steeds with hundreds of pounds of iron plating covering them all over, pulling incredible chariots that each contained two riders.
Dir-creoh's beastmen had the advantage up until now, running down the little humans with their demon steeds and picking off the slow ones with their bows and arrows.
Now, the tables were quickly turning as Velmuth's prized charioteers began their slaughter. The chariots themselves were nearly eight feet tall, with bladed, spinning gears mounted outside the wheels, along with razor sharp spear points mounted on the sides. The spear points were angled outward and nearly five feet long, so that a chariot merely had to passed by an enemy to reduce him to a bloody pile. The second rider in the chariot carried a set of weapons, a net and fork. The long pitch forks were excellent for high-speed armor piercing, and the nets could be thrown to ensnare enemies as they passed. Even the warhorses were deadly, with their armor having pikes grafted onto the side and aimed forwards, with the intent of skewering enemy riders.
The chariots proved the be the harbinger of death for the marauding goblins. They were trampled, impaled, forked, netted and stabbed, or otherwise slaughtered as they attacked. This did not last long, of course, when the furry squadron began riding away, firing their bows at the chariots who pursued them. Soon, the charioteers broke off the chase and returned to the main line, while the beast riders kept their distance and continued their arrow fire, which was of course met with the same by Velmuth's archers.
They were at a stand-off now, with hundreds dead on both sides.
Velmuth remained silent, waiting for Uprain to make his move.
---------------------------
Of all Desertvale's forces, Harlock's cavalry seemed to be struggling the worst. The beasts were more agile than Harlock's horses, and the talented little archers had a knack for shooting riders right off their horses. Harlock was silently cursing himself for not outfitting all his cavalry with the same armor that Velmuth's charioteers used. Velmuth had granted permission to do so, but Harlock feared that weighing down his forces and reducing their mobility would be a mistake - now he was paying for that decision.
The goblins continued running amok, clawing at his horses, his men, and Harlock himself. The battle was one sided as the kobolds continued to slaughter Harlock's cavalry, charging to and fro, destroying everything they came across.
Harlock was thrown from his horse when he was confronted by two of the beasts. This was not a two-on-one fight; it was four-on-one, as the steeds themselves were as vicious as their riders. They charged at him, with the hyena-ish and wolverine-ish steeds snapping and clawing at him. Harlock was being backed up, cornered by the beasts, taunted by the riders, and hoping for an escape opportunity.
"Sound the panic!!" Harlock roared to his bugler, and the musician soldier scrambled to sound the SOS with his horn. The wolverine rider quickly broke off his attack on Harlock and pounced on the bugler, preventing the cry for help from being sounded. The shredding off flesh and screams from the soldier blended in with the rest of the chaotic cacophony Meanwhile the hyena pounced on Harlock.
This was Harlock's only chance. He had seen these creatures in action for the last five minutes, and had observed their attack patterns. The very moment the hyena pounced, Harlock slid forward like a baseball player and lay on his back as the creature flew over. As it passed, he jammed his longsword up into the heart of creature. When it landed on the side of his position, it stumbled for a moment before collapsing.
Harlock was on his feet already, sprinting for the fallen beast. As its rider jumped off, it was met by the adrenaline-fueled Harlock.
"Wretched little fiends!!"
One precision strike from Harlock took the head of the goblin off in a shower of blood just as the wolverine returned. The rider took aim and unleashed an arrow at Harlock's heart, with perfect aim. The cavalry officer grabbed the small body of his first opponent and used it as a shield, blocking the fatal arrow attack. He then flung the corpse at the second rider, dislodging him from his saddle.
Even without its rider, the wolverine charged at him, aiming to trample him under foot. He dove to the side as it passed, leaving him no opportunity to counter. It would not give him an opportunity as it circled and attacked again. It swiped with its claws, snapped with its jaws, and roared in his face as he tried uselessly to fend off the creature. Finally, after a ten seconds off stalking Harlock, the wolverine actually spit in his face before pouncing on him. His sword arm was pinned down as the creature snapped for his throat.
He put his arm in the way, and the beast dug into his flesh, tearing at the skin, trying to get around his elbow to his neck. Harlock kept his arm in the way, favoring the loss of his limb to the loss of his life. He finally managed to get one his legs loose and planted it on the creature's chest pushing it back slightly, but it was too heavy to throw off. However, the moment it released him arm again, he reached into the quiver of the orc he had slain and withdrew an arrow, jamming it up into the throat of the wolverine moments before it could rip his windpipe out. Harlock withdrew his fur-covered, bloodstained hands as the blood of beast and the blood of man mingled on his fingers. The arrow was left lodged in the throat of the beast.
The wolverine stumbled backward, hacking and coughing, wheezing painfully. Its vision blurred and senses dulled as the blood flow to its brain was interrupted, rapidly approaching death. It began to stagger towards its master, who was watching the whole spectacle with bow in hand. He was waiting for his beast to get off so he could finish Harlock, but never got his opportunity.
"Outta the way!!" the archer cried, stepping away to get a better shot as the injured beast instinctively came to him for protection, hoping for aid that he could not administer. The orc put an arrow on the string and took aim at Harlock, just in time to realize that the officer, in a last ditch desperation move, had used his good arm to fling his sword toward the archer. His aim was remarkably good.
"Oh cr...."
The orc fell backwards as the sword embedded itself into his forehead. He perished instantly, his small frame hitting the ground softly. The life of the beast was also finally extinguished as the blood loss from its throat wound became to much. The beast curled up and died next to its master, and finally all four of Harlock's foes were deceased.
Harlock ran for the bugle and sounded the panic himself; his unit was getting slaughtered. After he pulled the horn away from his lips, he took the bugler's sword as well and began looking for his steed - staying on foot here would get him killed. His horse had come back, now that it was safe to do so, and he remounted the animal with haste. It was then that three beast riders came upon him suddenly.
"Kill the leader!!" one of the kobolds cackled, and the chase was on.
Harlock took off at a gallop as the beastmen gave chase, gaining on him rapidly.
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Targus' rangers had nearly reached Rafael's unit, running behind the allied forces uninterrupted. Targus himself led the charge, hoping to get to Rafael's unit fast enough to rack up some kills - he needed to prove himself, and 'saving' the hero would definitely accomplish his goal. It was then that he heard an SOS.
"What is that?!" he yelled to one of his lieutenants who rode close by.
"It's one of the bugle calls that we were briefed on! It think it's a distress signal!" the lieutenant hollered in reply.
"To the rescue then!!" Targus commanded, and his entire unit galloped right past Rafael's unit and continued to try and locate the source of the noise.
-----------------------------
The three beasts were still chasing Harlock, though one of them was now missing a rider. Even with one arm, Harlock could still take a head off with his excellent aim.
They had succeeded in surrounding him this time, and he was being closed in one. Four on one had been hard enough; now he faced five. He watched the riders carefully, waiting for an arrow attack at any moment. With careful timing, he could dflect one arrow; he would have to avoid the other.
That is exactly what happened. Both kobolds took aim and fired arrows at the exhausted cavalry man, who deflected one of them with his sword. He yanked on the reigns, and his horse reared up out of the way of the second arrow, but this threw Harlock to the ground again. He rolled as he landed, coming to feet just in time to see one of the beasts charging him. He again slid forward, going underneath the beast as it pounced and stabbing upward, disemboweling the creature just like last time.
Also, like last time, the creatures were quick learners and would not attempt to pounce on him again, but unlike last time, Harlock could not kill the rider that jumped off the fallen beast. The halfling had lost his bow when he fell, and thus drew a sword instead.
Both the riderless beast and the other mounted orc closed in on him as Harlock snatched up the dropped bow and the deflected arrow, firing one shot into the mounted rider's steed. The beast jumped out of the way, tossing its rider away in the process. Both beasts now charged him, and the two dismounted riders also attacked. As the first beast approached, Harlock kicked up the loosened dirt into the eyes of the creature, giving him a chance to make a fatal strike at its head. The second of the three creatures fell to the ground dead, but the third was snarling and snapping at him, at he was running out of tricks to use. When he tried kicking dirt at this one, it hid its face behind its forepaw.
The sword wielding kobold had come up behind Harlock, who had completely forgotten about the little imp. As it approached to shank him from behind, the beast looked at the kobold. Following the gaze of the beast, Harlock realized what was about to happen and spun around, impaling the kobold with one stroke and whirling to face the demon steed, but it was too late. It pounced, and for the second time, Harlock was help under the feet of a snarling beast. Except this time, both his arms were pinned down, and his neck was wide open.
The creature lunged forward, and Harlock closed his eyes as his death approached.
The creature on top of him was violently yanked off, however, when Harlock's horse beat upon with its hooves. The wolfish creature was startled as the horse kicked it off of Harlock, and the two beasts then took to ripping into each other. Aside from the good kick at the start, however, Harlock's horse stood no chance against the tornado of fangs and claws that tore away at it. Harlock impaled the beast from behind, but moments too late. The wolf steed had torn out the throat of his horse, and both beasts collapsed to the ground in front him, taking Harlock's sword down in the process.
"So long, Thunderhoof... I owe you my life."
Harlock turned and saw the final kobold stood ten feet away, holding a long dagger and approaching the exhausted, unarmed soldier. The officer backed away as the small fry approached, but lost his footing and collapsed. The kobold snickered as he fell, then charged at him.
What an embarrassing way to die...
The kobold had nearly reached him when the thundering noise of Targus' rangers signaled their arrival. They trampled the final kobold to death under fifty tons of hooves as Targus approached.
"Was he too big for you?" the southerner asked.
Harlock's sense of humor was never very well developed, but right now was probably the worst time to try and get a laugh out him. He remained silent, and glanced once more at his fallen horse. As of this moment, this war was officially personal. Harlock withdrew the bloodstained sword from his opponent and held it in his bloodstained hand, fur matted up on his clothes and between his fingers.
"Attack! Wipe these critters off the battlefield!" Targus commanded, and the rangers set about to do just that. Once again, the mountain men took to slaughtering the beast soldiers, although nearly half of Harlock's cavalry had already been eradicated. The beasts were overwhelmed as the hunters ruthlessly massacred them, taking tiny helmets and swords as souvenirs.
----------------------------
Inside Oceansford castle, the soldiers responded with disgust when the dead carcasses of beasts and their riders came raining down upon them, flung by Desertvale's catapults. The giant beasts and little riders flew everywhere, drenching the interior of the castle with blood and killing any soldier unfortunate enough to be standing in the wrong spot when the giant steeds landed.
Velmuth's unit was not faring well against the beast riders, but that would soon change. His unit was by far the largest, with thousands of men standing at the ready. While the frontline soldiers were being tore to shreds by Oceansford's demonic cavalry, Velmuth himself was thinking through his options. He pulled aside a bugler and issued some orders, which could barely be heard over the din and chaos of the clashing metal and screaming steeds.
The screeching bugle cry was audible throughout Velmuth's unit, and the battalion responded accordingly. The frontline parted like a wave as the reinforcements were quickly summoned.... chariots. Massive chariots, towering over the ferocious beast riders and propelled by giant armored warhorses that almost looked like they might have been stolen from Knight's unit. The idea was the same - giant steeds with hundreds of pounds of iron plating covering them all over, pulling incredible chariots that each contained two riders.
Dir-creoh's beastmen had the advantage up until now, running down the little humans with their demon steeds and picking off the slow ones with their bows and arrows.
Now, the tables were quickly turning as Velmuth's prized charioteers began their slaughter. The chariots themselves were nearly eight feet tall, with bladed, spinning gears mounted outside the wheels, along with razor sharp spear points mounted on the sides. The spear points were angled outward and nearly five feet long, so that a chariot merely had to passed by an enemy to reduce him to a bloody pile. The second rider in the chariot carried a set of weapons, a net and fork. The long pitch forks were excellent for high-speed armor piercing, and the nets could be thrown to ensnare enemies as they passed. Even the warhorses were deadly, with their armor having pikes grafted onto the side and aimed forwards, with the intent of skewering enemy riders.
The chariots proved the be the harbinger of death for the marauding goblins. They were trampled, impaled, forked, netted and stabbed, or otherwise slaughtered as they attacked. This did not last long, of course, when the furry squadron began riding away, firing their bows at the chariots who pursued them. Soon, the charioteers broke off the chase and returned to the main line, while the beast riders kept their distance and continued their arrow fire, which was of course met with the same by Velmuth's archers.
They were at a stand-off now, with hundreds dead on both sides.
Velmuth remained silent, waiting for Uprain to make his move.
---------------------------
Of all Desertvale's forces, Harlock's cavalry seemed to be struggling the worst. The beasts were more agile than Harlock's horses, and the talented little archers had a knack for shooting riders right off their horses. Harlock was silently cursing himself for not outfitting all his cavalry with the same armor that Velmuth's charioteers used. Velmuth had granted permission to do so, but Harlock feared that weighing down his forces and reducing their mobility would be a mistake - now he was paying for that decision.
The goblins continued running amok, clawing at his horses, his men, and Harlock himself. The battle was one sided as the kobolds continued to slaughter Harlock's cavalry, charging to and fro, destroying everything they came across.
Harlock was thrown from his horse when he was confronted by two of the beasts. This was not a two-on-one fight; it was four-on-one, as the steeds themselves were as vicious as their riders. They charged at him, with the hyena-ish and wolverine-ish steeds snapping and clawing at him. Harlock was being backed up, cornered by the beasts, taunted by the riders, and hoping for an escape opportunity.
"Sound the panic!!" Harlock roared to his bugler, and the musician soldier scrambled to sound the SOS with his horn. The wolverine rider quickly broke off his attack on Harlock and pounced on the bugler, preventing the cry for help from being sounded. The shredding off flesh and screams from the soldier blended in with the rest of the chaotic cacophony Meanwhile the hyena pounced on Harlock.
This was Harlock's only chance. He had seen these creatures in action for the last five minutes, and had observed their attack patterns. The very moment the hyena pounced, Harlock slid forward like a baseball player and lay on his back as the creature flew over. As it passed, he jammed his longsword up into the heart of creature. When it landed on the side of his position, it stumbled for a moment before collapsing.
Harlock was on his feet already, sprinting for the fallen beast. As its rider jumped off, it was met by the adrenaline-fueled Harlock.
"Wretched little fiends!!"
One precision strike from Harlock took the head of the goblin off in a shower of blood just as the wolverine returned. The rider took aim and unleashed an arrow at Harlock's heart, with perfect aim. The cavalry officer grabbed the small body of his first opponent and used it as a shield, blocking the fatal arrow attack. He then flung the corpse at the second rider, dislodging him from his saddle.
Even without its rider, the wolverine charged at him, aiming to trample him under foot. He dove to the side as it passed, leaving him no opportunity to counter. It would not give him an opportunity as it circled and attacked again. It swiped with its claws, snapped with its jaws, and roared in his face as he tried uselessly to fend off the creature. Finally, after a ten seconds off stalking Harlock, the wolverine actually spit in his face before pouncing on him. His sword arm was pinned down as the creature snapped for his throat.
He put his arm in the way, and the beast dug into his flesh, tearing at the skin, trying to get around his elbow to his neck. Harlock kept his arm in the way, favoring the loss of his limb to the loss of his life. He finally managed to get one his legs loose and planted it on the creature's chest pushing it back slightly, but it was too heavy to throw off. However, the moment it released him arm again, he reached into the quiver of the orc he had slain and withdrew an arrow, jamming it up into the throat of the wolverine moments before it could rip his windpipe out. Harlock withdrew his fur-covered, bloodstained hands as the blood of beast and the blood of man mingled on his fingers. The arrow was left lodged in the throat of the beast.
The wolverine stumbled backward, hacking and coughing, wheezing painfully. Its vision blurred and senses dulled as the blood flow to its brain was interrupted, rapidly approaching death. It began to stagger towards its master, who was watching the whole spectacle with bow in hand. He was waiting for his beast to get off so he could finish Harlock, but never got his opportunity.
"Outta the way!!" the archer cried, stepping away to get a better shot as the injured beast instinctively came to him for protection, hoping for aid that he could not administer. The orc put an arrow on the string and took aim at Harlock, just in time to realize that the officer, in a last ditch desperation move, had used his good arm to fling his sword toward the archer. His aim was remarkably good.
"Oh cr...."
The orc fell backwards as the sword embedded itself into his forehead. He perished instantly, his small frame hitting the ground softly. The life of the beast was also finally extinguished as the blood loss from its throat wound became to much. The beast curled up and died next to its master, and finally all four of Harlock's foes were deceased.
Harlock ran for the bugle and sounded the panic himself; his unit was getting slaughtered. After he pulled the horn away from his lips, he took the bugler's sword as well and began looking for his steed - staying on foot here would get him killed. His horse had come back, now that it was safe to do so, and he remounted the animal with haste. It was then that three beast riders came upon him suddenly.
"Kill the leader!!" one of the kobolds cackled, and the chase was on.
Harlock took off at a gallop as the beastmen gave chase, gaining on him rapidly.
-------------------------------------
Targus' rangers had nearly reached Rafael's unit, running behind the allied forces uninterrupted. Targus himself led the charge, hoping to get to Rafael's unit fast enough to rack up some kills - he needed to prove himself, and 'saving' the hero would definitely accomplish his goal. It was then that he heard an SOS.
"What is that?!" he yelled to one of his lieutenants who rode close by.
"It's one of the bugle calls that we were briefed on! It think it's a distress signal!" the lieutenant hollered in reply.
"To the rescue then!!" Targus commanded, and his entire unit galloped right past Rafael's unit and continued to try and locate the source of the noise.
-----------------------------
The three beasts were still chasing Harlock, though one of them was now missing a rider. Even with one arm, Harlock could still take a head off with his excellent aim.
They had succeeded in surrounding him this time, and he was being closed in one. Four on one had been hard enough; now he faced five. He watched the riders carefully, waiting for an arrow attack at any moment. With careful timing, he could dflect one arrow; he would have to avoid the other.
That is exactly what happened. Both kobolds took aim and fired arrows at the exhausted cavalry man, who deflected one of them with his sword. He yanked on the reigns, and his horse reared up out of the way of the second arrow, but this threw Harlock to the ground again. He rolled as he landed, coming to feet just in time to see one of the beasts charging him. He again slid forward, going underneath the beast as it pounced and stabbing upward, disemboweling the creature just like last time.
Also, like last time, the creatures were quick learners and would not attempt to pounce on him again, but unlike last time, Harlock could not kill the rider that jumped off the fallen beast. The halfling had lost his bow when he fell, and thus drew a sword instead.
Both the riderless beast and the other mounted orc closed in on him as Harlock snatched up the dropped bow and the deflected arrow, firing one shot into the mounted rider's steed. The beast jumped out of the way, tossing its rider away in the process. Both beasts now charged him, and the two dismounted riders also attacked. As the first beast approached, Harlock kicked up the loosened dirt into the eyes of the creature, giving him a chance to make a fatal strike at its head. The second of the three creatures fell to the ground dead, but the third was snarling and snapping at him, at he was running out of tricks to use. When he tried kicking dirt at this one, it hid its face behind its forepaw.
The sword wielding kobold had come up behind Harlock, who had completely forgotten about the little imp. As it approached to shank him from behind, the beast looked at the kobold. Following the gaze of the beast, Harlock realized what was about to happen and spun around, impaling the kobold with one stroke and whirling to face the demon steed, but it was too late. It pounced, and for the second time, Harlock was help under the feet of a snarling beast. Except this time, both his arms were pinned down, and his neck was wide open.
The creature lunged forward, and Harlock closed his eyes as his death approached.
The creature on top of him was violently yanked off, however, when Harlock's horse beat upon with its hooves. The wolfish creature was startled as the horse kicked it off of Harlock, and the two beasts then took to ripping into each other. Aside from the good kick at the start, however, Harlock's horse stood no chance against the tornado of fangs and claws that tore away at it. Harlock impaled the beast from behind, but moments too late. The wolf steed had torn out the throat of his horse, and both beasts collapsed to the ground in front him, taking Harlock's sword down in the process.
"So long, Thunderhoof... I owe you my life."
Harlock turned and saw the final kobold stood ten feet away, holding a long dagger and approaching the exhausted, unarmed soldier. The officer backed away as the small fry approached, but lost his footing and collapsed. The kobold snickered as he fell, then charged at him.
What an embarrassing way to die...
The kobold had nearly reached him when the thundering noise of Targus' rangers signaled their arrival. They trampled the final kobold to death under fifty tons of hooves as Targus approached.
"Was he too big for you?" the southerner asked.
Harlock's sense of humor was never very well developed, but right now was probably the worst time to try and get a laugh out him. He remained silent, and glanced once more at his fallen horse. As of this moment, this war was officially personal. Harlock withdrew the bloodstained sword from his opponent and held it in his bloodstained hand, fur matted up on his clothes and between his fingers.
"Attack! Wipe these critters off the battlefield!" Targus commanded, and the rangers set about to do just that. Once again, the mountain men took to slaughtering the beast soldiers, although nearly half of Harlock's cavalry had already been eradicated. The beasts were overwhelmed as the hunters ruthlessly massacred them, taking tiny helmets and swords as souvenirs.
----------------------------
Inside Oceansford castle, the soldiers responded with disgust when the dead carcasses of beasts and their riders came raining down upon them, flung by Desertvale's catapults. The giant beasts and little riders flew everywhere, drenching the interior of the castle with blood and killing any soldier unfortunate enough to be standing in the wrong spot when the giant steeds landed.
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Vapor
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The team of rogues had reached the castle wall without anyone noticing, distracted as the enemy soldiers were by the Deathstroke; even though they were only about 100 feet away from said Deathstroke problem.
"Trev! keep watch! you know what to do. Ven and Zarjav, cover me." Johannes whispered to his teammates as he took out an ice pick, put on crampons, and began to scale the castle wall, his immense strength enabling him to jab his spikes into the wall as if it were a frozen waterfall. He was 10 feet up the wall when Trevellyan yelled, "Johannes! Come quickly! ...and bring the goggles!"
There was a horde, about 30 strong, of strange imps and demons riding even stranger hybrid beasts. Johannes knew what to do. They had rehearsed this. As he leapt off the wall he put on a pair of old welding goggles from his pocket. The rampaging beasts were about 15 feet away when Trevellyan put his outstretched hands out, opened his mouth, and poured forth light from his eyes, mouth and palms. It was more like being 15 feet away from the sun than from a few rogue warriors. The soldiers and their mounts were blinded, paralyzed, and Johannes, unaffected due to hiss goggles, dove right into them.
They were being massacred before they even knew what was happening. Johannes plunged the giant Maschinesabel into soldier after soldier, and they couldn't even tell what was happening other than their falling comrades screaming. They were running around blind, not knowing where to run to, but just ran into Johannes' giant swinging blade. He singlehandedly slaughtered the blind imps and beasts one by one.
"We've attracted attention," Trevellyan noted, displaying no fear; just observing. The burst of starlight had caught the attention of the rest of the rampaging horde, and some more soldiers and beasts, seeing the 30 dead soldiers and their 30 dead mounts, were charging.
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"Screw that," Ven had muttered to himself a few minutes ago, right when the soldiers split off from the main horde and came for them. He decided to leap onto the ramparts of the castle wall, y'know, to get this thing done.
Ven took out his crowgun, and in one giant jump flew up towards the top of the rampart. There happened to be a surprised soldier right in his way, and Ven had to take care of that. He swung the crowbar right at the soldier's face, and with the momentum from the jump, cracked his skull and threw him backwards off the ramparts into the main part of the castle. This also helped Ven to stop and not fly into there himself, which he probably should have accounted for, but eh, he got lucky.
He knew that there were other soldiers on the ramparts, so without looking he pointed the crowgun to his left and fired. He heard a dying scream as the lead slug landed itself into a lookout soldiers face. he turned around to his right and did the same.
Suddenly, dead monsters were flying overhead, into the castle. .....Okay then... Ven thought, and carried on.
There were lookouts planted about every 15 feet or so, so this was going to be a problem, maybe, as they all got over their initial surprise and charged throwing spears. Ven made a jump to the the nearest turret and clung onto the side, making the spears miss and making a few of them hit the soldiers.
Ven readied his gun, but hesitated when he saw a flash of silver and a few unfortunate lookouts getting electrocuted on the spot. Must be Zarjav, who somehow managed to get up there. This would be some pretty smooth going from here, as the spears wouldn't do much to his liquid form. Ven could rely on the lookouts being taken out soon.
He suddenly noticed a flash, and saw Trevellyan and Johannes doing their shindig with the blinding light. Pretty neat, but of course the other soldiers saw the light and the ensuing massacre. Of course once Trevellyan stopped another fraction of the group split off, and Ven thought that he should help.
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Trevellyan stopped glowing - it took a large amount of energy, and he couldn't do it for longer than a minute or so without being extremely drained. So he stopped, and saw many, many more enemies coming their way; most of them armored humans on horseback this time. Before he formulated any sort of plan, he saw Ven shrieking out of nowhere, blasting huge jets of fire out of his mouth and eyes at the soldiers, surprising them, burning them, and blasting them off of their horses, which were thrown into an absolute panic. Ven repeatedly blasted huge jets of flame from his face, and swung blindly with his crowgun, occasionally hitting an unfortunate soldier. The soldiers he didn't hit or burn were probably trampled or knocked off their mounts by the confused, panicking horses stampeding around. Ven was able to dodge these by jumping around and bouncing off the wall constantly.
Essentially, Trevellyan and Johannes just stood there and watched Ven get down to business. Even as his mouth should have been occupied with the fireblasts, Ven managed to cackle and laugh in a terrifying, demented way. Even Trevellyan was unnerved. Johannes reflected that he worked through planning and thought; and Ven relied on spontaneity, surprise and random chance yet was very effective. This makes him an even better addition to the team than he thought; his chaotic yet powerful methods could provide a wildcard as backup for when things go wrong. Or to just be powerful in general, that works too.
within a few minutes the soldiers were either dead or had retreated. Ven stood there as the survivors ran away, flipping them off, grinning yelling "HAHAHAHAAHEAAAA!!! BITCHES! YOU MOTHER****ERS ARE GONNA GET YOUR ASSES KICKED SO HARD THAT YOUR GRANDCHILDREN WILL HAVGAHHH!" His obscene rant was interrupted by one of the horses crashing into him. Johannes and Trevellyan saw this and heard wood snap from within Ven. Trevellyan, with his unnatural speed, ran right over under the horse's head and slashed its throat open with his dagger before it could charge again.
Johannes was by Ven's side. "You okay? Here, I'll make a splint..." he said to Ven lying on his back. "No, no, no, don't worry, it'll heal...gahh...ow...****ers...." Ven continued muttering to himself. Against his wishes Johannes made a splint around Ven's torso. He removed his welding goggles and said "Where's Zarjav?" "Up on the ramparts, kicking ass." Ven replied. "Oh ****, I'm drained from all that..goddamnit..." He continued muttering and then fell unconscious.
"Oh damn..." Johannes said, as he took out some alcoholic drink and poured it into Ven's mouth. "He doesn't have a digestive system. Nothing will happen," Trevellyan said coldly. "No. This isn't your average rum," he said as Ven seemed to get rejuvenated. "WHOAaa. DAMN. that's intense," Ven said as he tried to get up, but fell over again. "Gah.. my back still needs to heal...don't worry, it'll only be a little while." Wood fibers cricking into place could be heard.
Johannes decided to stay with Ven until he was fully healed. Trev flew up to the ramparts to meet Zarjav. Who knows what they're doing up there, Johannes thought, Buuut they're probably okay. He listened to the cricking of the wood.
OOC: uh, Ven's crowgun is a device that's a crowbar merged with a pistol. Just explaining that right there for those who didn't know.
"Trev! keep watch! you know what to do. Ven and Zarjav, cover me." Johannes whispered to his teammates as he took out an ice pick, put on crampons, and began to scale the castle wall, his immense strength enabling him to jab his spikes into the wall as if it were a frozen waterfall. He was 10 feet up the wall when Trevellyan yelled, "Johannes! Come quickly! ...and bring the goggles!"
There was a horde, about 30 strong, of strange imps and demons riding even stranger hybrid beasts. Johannes knew what to do. They had rehearsed this. As he leapt off the wall he put on a pair of old welding goggles from his pocket. The rampaging beasts were about 15 feet away when Trevellyan put his outstretched hands out, opened his mouth, and poured forth light from his eyes, mouth and palms. It was more like being 15 feet away from the sun than from a few rogue warriors. The soldiers and their mounts were blinded, paralyzed, and Johannes, unaffected due to hiss goggles, dove right into them.
They were being massacred before they even knew what was happening. Johannes plunged the giant Maschinesabel into soldier after soldier, and they couldn't even tell what was happening other than their falling comrades screaming. They were running around blind, not knowing where to run to, but just ran into Johannes' giant swinging blade. He singlehandedly slaughtered the blind imps and beasts one by one.
"We've attracted attention," Trevellyan noted, displaying no fear; just observing. The burst of starlight had caught the attention of the rest of the rampaging horde, and some more soldiers and beasts, seeing the 30 dead soldiers and their 30 dead mounts, were charging.
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"Screw that," Ven had muttered to himself a few minutes ago, right when the soldiers split off from the main horde and came for them. He decided to leap onto the ramparts of the castle wall, y'know, to get this thing done.
Ven took out his crowgun, and in one giant jump flew up towards the top of the rampart. There happened to be a surprised soldier right in his way, and Ven had to take care of that. He swung the crowbar right at the soldier's face, and with the momentum from the jump, cracked his skull and threw him backwards off the ramparts into the main part of the castle. This also helped Ven to stop and not fly into there himself, which he probably should have accounted for, but eh, he got lucky.
He knew that there were other soldiers on the ramparts, so without looking he pointed the crowgun to his left and fired. He heard a dying scream as the lead slug landed itself into a lookout soldiers face. he turned around to his right and did the same.
Suddenly, dead monsters were flying overhead, into the castle. .....Okay then... Ven thought, and carried on.
There were lookouts planted about every 15 feet or so, so this was going to be a problem, maybe, as they all got over their initial surprise and charged throwing spears. Ven made a jump to the the nearest turret and clung onto the side, making the spears miss and making a few of them hit the soldiers.
Ven readied his gun, but hesitated when he saw a flash of silver and a few unfortunate lookouts getting electrocuted on the spot. Must be Zarjav, who somehow managed to get up there. This would be some pretty smooth going from here, as the spears wouldn't do much to his liquid form. Ven could rely on the lookouts being taken out soon.
He suddenly noticed a flash, and saw Trevellyan and Johannes doing their shindig with the blinding light. Pretty neat, but of course the other soldiers saw the light and the ensuing massacre. Of course once Trevellyan stopped another fraction of the group split off, and Ven thought that he should help.
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Trevellyan stopped glowing - it took a large amount of energy, and he couldn't do it for longer than a minute or so without being extremely drained. So he stopped, and saw many, many more enemies coming their way; most of them armored humans on horseback this time. Before he formulated any sort of plan, he saw Ven shrieking out of nowhere, blasting huge jets of fire out of his mouth and eyes at the soldiers, surprising them, burning them, and blasting them off of their horses, which were thrown into an absolute panic. Ven repeatedly blasted huge jets of flame from his face, and swung blindly with his crowgun, occasionally hitting an unfortunate soldier. The soldiers he didn't hit or burn were probably trampled or knocked off their mounts by the confused, panicking horses stampeding around. Ven was able to dodge these by jumping around and bouncing off the wall constantly.
Essentially, Trevellyan and Johannes just stood there and watched Ven get down to business. Even as his mouth should have been occupied with the fireblasts, Ven managed to cackle and laugh in a terrifying, demented way. Even Trevellyan was unnerved. Johannes reflected that he worked through planning and thought; and Ven relied on spontaneity, surprise and random chance yet was very effective. This makes him an even better addition to the team than he thought; his chaotic yet powerful methods could provide a wildcard as backup for when things go wrong. Or to just be powerful in general, that works too.
within a few minutes the soldiers were either dead or had retreated. Ven stood there as the survivors ran away, flipping them off, grinning yelling "HAHAHAHAAHEAAAA!!! BITCHES! YOU MOTHER****ERS ARE GONNA GET YOUR ASSES KICKED SO HARD THAT YOUR GRANDCHILDREN WILL HAVGAHHH!" His obscene rant was interrupted by one of the horses crashing into him. Johannes and Trevellyan saw this and heard wood snap from within Ven. Trevellyan, with his unnatural speed, ran right over under the horse's head and slashed its throat open with his dagger before it could charge again.
Johannes was by Ven's side. "You okay? Here, I'll make a splint..." he said to Ven lying on his back. "No, no, no, don't worry, it'll heal...gahh...ow...****ers...." Ven continued muttering to himself. Against his wishes Johannes made a splint around Ven's torso. He removed his welding goggles and said "Where's Zarjav?" "Up on the ramparts, kicking ass." Ven replied. "Oh ****, I'm drained from all that..goddamnit..." He continued muttering and then fell unconscious.
"Oh damn..." Johannes said, as he took out some alcoholic drink and poured it into Ven's mouth. "He doesn't have a digestive system. Nothing will happen," Trevellyan said coldly. "No. This isn't your average rum," he said as Ven seemed to get rejuvenated. "WHOAaa. DAMN. that's intense," Ven said as he tried to get up, but fell over again. "Gah.. my back still needs to heal...don't worry, it'll only be a little while." Wood fibers cricking into place could be heard.
Johannes decided to stay with Ven until he was fully healed. Trev flew up to the ramparts to meet Zarjav. Who knows what they're doing up there, Johannes thought, Buuut they're probably okay. He listened to the cricking of the wood.
OOC: uh, Ven's crowgun is a device that's a crowbar merged with a pistol. Just explaining that right there for those who didn't know.
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VG_Addict
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Nightshade let out a frustrated growl, as he saw that Zeten had no interest in fighting him. He saw several dark-skinned, batlike creatures flying over him, and he immediately figured they were Zeten's forces. Maybe if I can't take out Zeten, I can take out his little minions, leaving him all alone. Nightshade pondered, as one of the purple creatures swooped down to attack him. The trench-coated man jumped out of the way and grabbed onto the creature's back, much to its great anger and surprise. He then took a dagger out of his trench coat, climbed up to the head of the great beast, and jammed said dagger into the base of the creature's neck, right into the brain stem. The beast let out a might cry of pain, as dark red, almost blackish blood spewed out of the wound, and it crashed into the ground, dead.
Meanwhile, Raji, Balkin, Goofball, and Tako where fighting inside the Oceansford castle, while Takeshi was shouting strategies to the four men. Suddenly, six soldiers grabbed onto Balkin in a dogpile-like manner, jamming their swords and spears into him. This looked like the end for Balkin, but the man had an idea. Suddenly, Balkin's eyes turned a sickly yellow, thick, grey fur covered his body, his teeth grew into 2-foot long fangs, and he grew great black claws. His heart pumped into overtime from the intense amount of adrenaline that course through his body, as well as his muscles began to gain more tone, until they reached bodybuilder proportions. Balkin let out a mighty roar, as he turned wolf, and effortlessly threw the guards off him as though they were pieces of paper stuck on his body. The wolfman grabbed two soldiers and slammed their heads together, causing their heads to fly off their bodies from the impact. Balkin then threw two more guards out of a nearby window, falling to their deaths. And as a grand finale, Balkin stomped on a guard, crushing him under his feet, then gently put the last soldier in his mouth, with his legs and head hanging out, and bit down, breaking him into three pieces, the middle part still in his mouth, which he spat out.
Meanwhile, Raji, Balkin, Goofball, and Tako where fighting inside the Oceansford castle, while Takeshi was shouting strategies to the four men. Suddenly, six soldiers grabbed onto Balkin in a dogpile-like manner, jamming their swords and spears into him. This looked like the end for Balkin, but the man had an idea. Suddenly, Balkin's eyes turned a sickly yellow, thick, grey fur covered his body, his teeth grew into 2-foot long fangs, and he grew great black claws. His heart pumped into overtime from the intense amount of adrenaline that course through his body, as well as his muscles began to gain more tone, until they reached bodybuilder proportions. Balkin let out a mighty roar, as he turned wolf, and effortlessly threw the guards off him as though they were pieces of paper stuck on his body. The wolfman grabbed two soldiers and slammed their heads together, causing their heads to fly off their bodies from the impact. Balkin then threw two more guards out of a nearby window, falling to their deaths. And as a grand finale, Balkin stomped on a guard, crushing him under his feet, then gently put the last soldier in his mouth, with his legs and head hanging out, and bit down, breaking him into three pieces, the middle part still in his mouth, which he spat out.
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Fairlight Excalibur
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A little of both
I was laughing at the visual image created, a sort of Mortal Kombat style gorefest, with blood flying everywhere and a deep voice declaring 'FATALITY!"
I was applauding the use of the deliberately impossible action taken for humor's sake - I assumed the attack was meant to be humorous? I usually play these style of RP's very seriously, so the joke threw me way off.
Kudos to you; I :rotfl: ed til it hurt.
I was laughing at the visual image created, a sort of Mortal Kombat style gorefest, with blood flying everywhere and a deep voice declaring 'FATALITY!"
I was applauding the use of the deliberately impossible action taken for humor's sake - I assumed the attack was meant to be humorous? I usually play these style of RP's very seriously, so the joke threw me way off.
Kudos to you; I :rotfl: ed til it hurt.
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1-up Salesman
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Zeten looked to see Nightshade jamming his knife into the neck of one of Karshetk's soldiers. Zeten shrugged and said, "well, I guess he has to take it out on someone." He then looked to see Balkin, one of Nightshade's men, or...wolf men? Tearing off people's limbs?
Smiling, Zeten stopped what he was doing, put down his sword, and sat on the dirt of the ground, watch the beast slamming soldiers into each other, the soldiers' FREAKING HEADS FLYING OFF FROM IMPACT. 'FATALITY!' a voice cried from the heavens.
Smiling, Zeten stopped what he was doing, put down his sword, and sat on the dirt of the ground, watch the beast slamming soldiers into each other, the soldiers' FREAKING HEADS FLYING OFF FROM IMPACT. 'FATALITY!' a voice cried from the heavens.