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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    The Mad Hatter's Avatar

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    Sep 2011
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    Elsewhere.
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    Default A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    A Dark Horizon

    The wind blows over the desolate landscape, it's howl like the mourn of some unfortunate widower through the marshes, bogs, and creaking ruined houses. The land of Serinet was a blasted area, devoid of pleasant tourist attractions and beautiful weather. Here, there is only the dull thud of the cold rain and sleet beating upon cobblestone streets to a slowly maddening rhythm... Only the cries of the undead known to haunt the landscapes beyond the small walled settlements of the land... Only the ever-constant sense of fear that infects the air, and blows in through towns like the thick fog so common here. Serinet was a place of death and loneliness, seemingly forgotten by the rest of the world. Guided to this place by torturing dreams involving disembodied voices, and images of a strange staff... this dreaded land appears to be your destination.

    Music:

    ---

    For each of you, the nightmares had been steadily growing more and more disturbing, turning what was once a mild annoyance into a full blown fear of sleep. The dreams were always quite horrific, but the one you all experienced the night before, while sleeping in the back of one of several tall wagons that composed the trader's caravan was... different. It was more vivid, more physical, as strange as that sounds. Each of you could almost feel what was around you. Thinking over the dreams that had been had was always easy, for the nightmares were always very vivid. In the dreams, you had been standing in some strange marsh, a desolate and lonely place, all muddy and unpleasant. A thick and sour smelling fog covered the ground and reached up to your knees, and nothing was visible below the mysterious dark grey mist. You had looked about, feeling something was watching you, your eyes flashing from twisted tree to twisted tree, the old and dead branches seemingly pointing somewhere over your head.

    Though you turned to run, you found your feet were stuck in place, and a strange external force turned your head to face the direction the trees were facing. Each time you turned, three dead and maggoty ravens that had been staring at you from the largest tree had cawed simultaneously, before flying over you, their forms dark against the full moon. You had turned quickly to gaze at what they flew towards, and what the trees had been pointing at, to see a large hill behind you. A massive church sits upon the hill, it's once proud stained glass windows smashed in. A horrifying mural depicting the ouroboras, a snake eating it's own tail, wrapping around a dull, milky, reptilian eye flashes into your mind quickly, before you are somewhere else.

    Usually, you had been startled awake by this part of the dream, but occasionally the nightmare progressed. You had seemed to be inside the large church then, tied to some dark wooden chair by a rope that was far too tight, and barbed to match. It hurt you, the pain was almost real it had seemed on occasion! The rope appeared to be magical, for it radiated a dull greyish blue, like the color of a bruise. In the dream, you had looked in front of you to see some horrific pit in the bottom of the stone floor. A pentacle of blood and candlewax has been drawn around the pit, and the bodies of many young men and women, stripped naked and brutally slaughtered, lied within. There had always been a horrific sense of dread and rising fear here, for a terrible pulse of noise seemed to resonate from the walls themselves here, a hideous pulse from the depths below, forever building yet never reaching it's foul crescendo. As the dream growed only more disturbing, the shrieks of many men and women had always begun to be heard above the wicked pulse.

    They howled all at once, quiet and muffled despite their screams, as if the voices came from underwater. "Help us!" "Serinet!" "The Serpent!" "Please!" "Neru, Neru, Neru!" The voices got louder and louder, the unnerving sound like a razor blade cutting across some broken bard's violin, the wails grinding into your mind like a red hot screw, slowly turning. The sound had risen each night, along with the shouts, until the caw of the three ravens pierced the air once more, adding to the tortuous cacophony. Fortunately, as it all got nearly unbearable, and just you had begun to slowly wake up, a final noise was heard. It was a scream of absolute horror and pain. However, it certainly wasn't yours. It had sounded older, and wizened, and raspy, but each night gets weaker and weaker. The scream had coupled with the familiar image of the ouroboras around the milky eye, flashing again and again each night, before you finally had been startled awake. After enduring the same dream, three weeks in a row, you decided to finally head to this dreaded place... This, "Serinet."

    Pre-Game:
    Spoiler: DC: 15 History Check
    Show
    Serinet had always been a particularly small country, wedged beneath the colder areas to the north, and the flatlands to the west. However, despite the small size of the country, it was once a fairly important land due to it being regarded as a holy place for both the church of Sarenrae, and the church of Urgathoa, both religions believing that their god had touched down onto this earth and hidden a special artifact to combat the other god many years ago, in this very country. Hundreds of years ago, great religious crusades raged on here between the two religions. At the time, Urgathoan worshipers were incredibly common, funded by rich and mad vampiric noblemen from strange places. The worship of Sarenrae was also very common as well, resulting in both sides having ample funding and military might. The poor natives of Serinet, with their tiny and peaceful settlements had no real military, and were caught in the cross-fire, and very soon the native towns were occupied by either force. Many people died, on all sides. Women and children were slaughtered in the name of the gods. After the marshes were clogged with bodies, and the once beautiful Asper River choked with the blood of the fallen, the war came to a close. With funding spent and no artifact found, a treaty was made. Both churches would leave the area forever, and leave everything to the natives once more. The Serinetian people soon rebuilt, this time with tall walls and a capable militia.

    Unfortunately, the land was tainted by the evil energy the tragedy produced. The once rich soil had been fertilized with flesh and blood of the innocent, the dark taint of war having a strange effect on the naturally mystic land. Those who weren't buried and cleansed with holy power were cursed to rise again for one month every year, a horrific consequence the angry gods had sowed upon their followers for their horrific wartime acts. The dead walked the earth! The land was cursed, it was said! But the Serinetians did not care. They were a hardy people, and lived their lives behind their walls, only occasionally making travels back and forth, from hamlet to hamlet. Using the regular times of the year to farm and build their walls high for the upcoming dark month, the period of time renamed "The Witching Weeks" by the suspicious people of the land. The people had become more and more reclusive, despising both the Urgathoans and the Sarenraen worshipers, instead accepting the Pharasman religion. The blight of Serinet only worsened over the years, and the negative energies produced by the undead, and by the curse on the land warped the landscape. Fog covered all, it was difficult to grow food, and to this day mysterious holy artifacts remain lost in the bogs, broken chapels, and desecrated temples dotting the land. The rain is constant, and cold, and the sun hasn't been seen in this place for many years. This was a dark place...




    ---

    Chapter 1: MOON OVER BASTION.



    All of you arrive in Bastion, after about two days of travel by caravan. Though the traders were pleasant and several of the others that journeyed with you seemed kind enough, if mysterious, the travel had been quite forboding, for none of you save the one called Markin, and a much younger Mayli had ever truly experienced a land as gloomy as this. The pleasant skies had gotten darker and darker the closer you got to this small country, the rabbits and birds were less and less frequently seen, until their looked to be nearly no living things about. A cold steadily crept in as the caravan of three wagons drew closer and closer to the border of Serinet. Once the border was crossed, the travel grew even more difficult. The roads were ill-maintained and the mood of the Trader's worsened as the cold rain continued to bombard the wagons. There were only the ancient and dying trees to keep you company, the occasional visages of malice seemingly carved into their twisted bark, or maybe it was just your imagination, or this terrible place. It seemed to have had an effect on each of you, even the native. There was little in the way of hope here, and the oppressive feel of the cold air and rain crept into each of, morale worsening each day. Every once in a while, a small house could be seen by the road, by most everything was boarded up, or in the process of being boarded up. There were very few actual Serinetions sighted on the road, but the ones that had been seen ignored you. It's clear that foreigners weren't exactly well-liked in this land. Though you grew closer and closer to Bastion, the journey was uncomfortable, but at least it took your mind off the nightmares which had appeared every time you slept.

    The time is seven thirty nine in the afternoon, and the trio of wagons finally arrive at Bastion. Now, the great looming twin gates into the city of stone stand before you. With walls higher than any ever seen, and thicker than trees, the sight was somewhat intimidating. Guardsmen frequent the ramparts above, dressed in plate and well-armed. It's as if the people here were expecting some kind of great army to come riding down upon them at any minute! Twelve guards stand outside the open gate, looking anxious. As they notice you, the twelve guards in half-plate look towards you, their pikes clutched tight in their hands. Six more gaze down at you from atop the wall, in two small circular guard towers, three towers per section of rampart. Huge ballista are mounted to the towers. What an ominous sight the ballista were! However, before the group can begin greeting the guards, a figure that seems to be of some importance steps out of a guard-shack near the entrance to the city. He's a tall man, 6.5 at least, clad in a dented and clearly well-used breasplate. A helmet, cracked and scraped, is held under his arm. A large greatsword at his back. As he steps out, he looks upon the group with a look of confusion and pity. Another man dressed in robes of a Pharasman cleric pops out behind him, a spellbook and a large holy symbol clutched in his right hand.

    The guardsman walks out with the cleric behind him, though the younger cleric seems somewhat apprehensive to meet strangers. However, the Captain of the guard seems more used to it, and with a wave of his hand and a warming, if small smile, he gestures for his men to stand down. The Captain of the Guard lurches closer, and that's when the more obviously unusual thing about him becomes more apparent. At his left knee, a carved chunk of wood is bolted and strapped to what appears to be a stump of a limb. He was obviously some kind of warrior, and an old one judging by the wound and graying hair. He speaks out to you all in a friendly if concerned voice."...Huh. We don't often get many traveler's 'round here. And certainly not this many at once! Uhh. Welcome to Bastion, I suppose. Capital of Serinet. Something tells me you're not here on... uh... touristy-like business, now are you? No one comes to Serinet for the sight-seeing. My name is Gray, Galder Gray, Captain of the Guard here. Merchant Caravan, yeah?" It was more of a question that didn't really need to be answered. Galder looks down the caravan train, sighing as he does so. "Sorry to be a real stick in the mud about this, strangers, but we'll need you to dismount your carts, please. It's nothing bad or anything! Just the way we do things. Father Armant here is going to do a quick scan, make sure nothin's out of the ordinary. Can't be too careful what with the Witching Weeks so close, eh? I reckon you're the last batch of traveller's we're going to have time to let in before we lockdown... Hm." Galder walks closer to the closest wagon, which happens to be the wagon that you are all on. "Pardon me sayin' it, buy you kind folk there don't look like no traders. State your business?" He awaits your individual answers, as the cleric moves behind him, quickly casting a weakened version of Detect Undead. Meanwhile, a guard to his left, about ten feet behind him looks over at something. It's distracting. Maybe just a bird.

    ((Post your reply, and make a Listen Check, please.))

    NPCs of Note: Galder Gray:
    Last edited by The Mad Hatter; 2015-03-14 at 01:18 AM.
    don't click this

  2. - Top - End - #2
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Mornings's Avatar

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    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    [The Dawnhammer]

    The tireless, ceaseless rain beat down upon the thick and colorful canvas of her wagon's heavy waxed tarp. She could remember day, terrible days, lost in these lands. Wicked days, and some... not so unpleasant, in the company of Gar'nuk. The foolish orc... she'd never met a creature, a man, so brave and passionate. And dared not believe she would again.

    She shook the foul smelling water from her stark white curly hair, and raised up her deep patch-work cowl. The badges of The Dusk and Dawn embroidered upon it's sides, a long with a number of coats of arms, and house colors from regions far and wide. Across oceans and time... three generations of bards, of Dervish Swordsmen immortalized in the well maintained, yet thick haggard cloth. The rain whipped and pounded, but the oil based wax she coated it with regularly made it as water-proof as any fabric might be. Moving back from the forward steer, she sat under the cover of her wagons canvas. Vigil, her proud white wolf laid upon her lap. She left the horses reins in his mouth as they made their slow, yet steady approach to the great walls of Bastion. She did not remember the damned place to be so fortified in the past. She plucked a small tune, a eerie dirge upon her mandolin as the guards began to encircle her caravan. She hung her instrument from her back, Vigil's ears perked up as the strange men made their approach. She detested dealing with cowards, she detested dealing with men... She took her steel flask from a secret pocket in her cloak and took a swig of sweet tepache. The light alcoholic tingle cleared her senses. She wanted nothing more, then to jump down from her cart and give the squeamish looking sorry excuse of a cleric a kick in the face. Mostly due to his lack of a spine, and she knew an easy target when she saw one... She simply did not enjoy being halted, nor questioned by these would-be 'defenders'. She knew well... better then even them perhaps. If the horde came upon the city, their feeble blades and tin armor would account for little. She took another swig.... it was a laughable practice in the art of futility. She signed, Father Nel had said she was often too hash, too... forward in her methodology. She looked back to 'Mako' behind her and smiled. Her only friend.... the only one she could trust. She ran her hand through her white hair quickly, a common ritual that restrained her volatile temperament fabricated by her rage against the injustice of her life. She issued a short whistle, to both the man... this 'Galder Grey', and to her loyal hounds, putting them at alert about her. She jumped out unto the couch's steer, with a gallant, dramatic flare.

    She waved out to them, standing proudly upon the wagons steer, before the horse, two men's height above the subjects she addressed, as the rain pounded against her thick cloak and strangely colored garments. She spoke loudly and elegantly with a lovely sing-song voice in poetic tongue, and very old verse. While ineligible, it came across as highly unusual.

    " Hail, Sir Grey! And a thousand welcomes, to you and your own! Ich beg pardon of myself , that ich mean not speakith adoun, nor father dout, nor drede, agayns my fellows and kin. "

    She swept back her crimson cowl from covering her face. and with a grand sweep, gave an incredibly exaggerated bow, rather then a courtesy as fitting for a lady. With a bright and beaming smile upon her face.

    " Thine fortifications and might lette no force by which thy may find defeat. Maystow clepe, I, myself, Mayli Ar'tel. The grand bard and caravaneer of Capitas! A delit-and-blessing, for us both, i'm sure. Ich and my own, have come to thy blessed fortress of solemn beauty for many reasons. For each a story, tales of grand deed to be sure. Long enough the rain would leave a very sodden man. But ich givith this, of our reason. Kin, blood of my own, hath been found missing, absent, away and removed from me! Thus do I travel with my own to forthren my fellows of trade and their wares, and reclaim the blood that is my own, as I do venture to seek Captain Lewis Batel, of your guard. If not in answer, but in passing... now if you would please. Let us not tarry bitwixen thy spear and rain."

    Mayli Perception - (1d20+2)[20]
    Mayli Diplomacy ------------------------------------
    (Pass Through Gates Without Further Interference) - (1d20+7)[23]

    Wolves on Alert
    Chaucer Perception - (1d20+8)[11]
    Faust Perception - (1d20+8)[28]
    Sigurd Perception - (1d20+8)[16]
    Vigil Perception - (1d20+8)[10]

  3. - Top - End - #3
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Keledrath's Avatar

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    Jan 2007
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    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    The road had been long, but Markin was glad for the journey. As much as he had hated to leave his home, the man his uncle had introduced him to had been a master of combat, and the techniques he had learned would truly prove useful to train the guards in. Now, the dreams were different. He had long prayed for them to go away, and instead they had changed. His eyes were bright with destiny, and he touched the pentagram tattooed on his face. His Lord had chosen him, he knew it.

    He saluted Galder.
    Have no fear Grey. I have returned. Good to see you kept the place standing in my absence.
    He grins as he speaks, oblivious to any threat that may be approaching.

    Spoiler: OoC
    Show
    Perception: (1d20-1)[7]
    Last edited by Keledrath; 2015-03-14 at 07:06 AM.
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

    Extended Sig

  4. - Top - End - #4
    Titan in the Playground
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    Jun 2011

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Orthos spends the journey chatting amicably with the traders, the rain and dreariness of the setting untroubling to him, pleasant company an uplifting turn from the growing darkness of the dreams. Not that dreams were unaccustomed, but of late they had taken an unfamiliar coloration. Despite his blindness, he seems always to know what way their destination lay.
    ------------
    He stand to greet the guards. "Well met Captain Grey. I am Orthos, a pilgrim and penitent. These good trader's were in need of useful companions on the road and I wished to pass this way, so here I am. I must confess, though, that I am unfamiliar with the witching weeks you speak of."

  5. - Top - End - #5
    Titan in the Playground
    Join Date
    Feb 2010

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Makoto

    Having grown up in a land where the only sorts of precipitation were snow, more snow, and freeing rain with hail, the downpour here was more intriguing to the foreign tiefling than it was dreary. Where the traders and her dearest companion wore heavy cloaks to shield themselves from the rain, the ring-bound spell-blade was covered only by her usual attire of a hakama, dyed with of deep blues and reds, and a white sarashi bound loosely around her chest, indicating that it's clearly intended more for modesty than either of its standard purposes.

    Content to let Mayli talk their way into the gate, she pets each of the wolves that have traveled so far with them before stepping out of the wagon herself, though with more grace and less flair than Mayli. Struggling to keep up with her savior as she goes into her archaically poetic speech, she silently chastises herself for not being able to pinpoint the meaning of every word used. I should practice my Common more, maybe then I will be able to figure out what she's saying without having to think about it. Not letting the struggle deter her though, she smiles cheerfully at the guards while the others handle introductions, deciding that there's no point in adding to the list of names the guardsman is likely to forget soon.

    Spoiler
    Show

    Aid Another Diplomacy (1d20+7)[11]

    Perception (1d20-2)[0]
    Lilith Avatar by AsteriskAmp

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    . . . . . .
    Setsuna by Kymme | Desril by Wolfshonor | Eruvia (no background) by Oneris

  6. - Top - End - #6
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    The Mad Hatter's Avatar

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    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    The Captain of the Guard moves forward, his wooden leg clunking on the cobblestone path with a solid thump. Rainwater falls upon him, falling off the wide-brimmed hat he wore to cover his face and scraggly beard from the water. A small tag at the front of his dull grey and bronze uniform reads, "Galder Gray", the Captain bit only recently scribbled in. Now that it's closer, it's obvious that the uniform is incredibly old. How long has this man been a guard here? Galder's a lot taller up close, Markin may find, for he moves towards Markin first, knowing the man already. Markin and Galder met every once in a while, for Markin made frequent trips to and from the capital. However, this seemed to be the longest Markin had been away from the city in a while. Galder shrugs to his question before speaking to him, his voice friendly, if gravelly. "Fear, old friend? Hah. Oh how I've missed you and your nonsense. However, I do want to get this over with. It's almost evening. Now, can we hurry? I'd like to spend my night at home, with Saren, and a big bowl of stew, rather than ending up some torn up corpse in a ditch. Get inside, Markin. If ya wanna talk, you can find me at the Sleeping Goblin. He smiles lightly, but it's clear he's quite stressed. The Witching Weeks were an incredibly difficult time for guards. He'll place a hand of his on Markin's shoulder before nodding and letting the younger past him. Markin will be able to walk into the city, just past the incredibly thick stone walls. However, as he begins to walk closer inside, he'll notice that one of the guard's eyes widens. You pause... Was something behind you?

    In the meantime, Galder Gray will then move past his old acquaintance to meet the young woman beside Markin, the incredibly talkative one. Apparently she was some kind of performer, or scribe perhaps. He'd never heard several of the words she stated, and didn't quite understand what she was saying half the time. However, he looks her over once more, before pausing. The Captain of the Guard sighs deeply before speaking to the young bardic woman. "Ahh. I see? I think? Uhhh. Social type, eh? Well, there's uh... Plenty of opportunities here in the city for people like you! Especially now... But welcome, friend, to Bastion. You're quite lucky to have arrived here at all, actually. Most of the time we block the road up ahead... You're the last group we're going to open the gates for, so I hope you brought enough gold to stay the weeks here before we open gates again. I suggest you head over to The Sleeping Goblin tonight. It's cheap, low-rates and all that. Plus, there's sometimes a few nice people. Games and such. I think you'll like it." He continues talking to her, but doesn't look her in the eye, instead he's looking to his left. He's always looking. An odd trait, but most likely useful for someone in his... position. He shrugs and steadies his nerves, before giving her the "OK" to walk in by waving his hand to a guard behind him. He speaks to her one more time before he moves on. "Welcome to Bastion, friend. City of Stone. Keep to yourself, and you'll be just fine." Mayli will be allowed to get back in the wagon and proceed into the open doors of the city. However, she could swear he heard... something rustling between two large and gnarled trees about forty feet behind the others. Both Sigurd and Faust seem to notice it too. Probably a rabbit... right?

    Captain Gray will move again, heading down the line of strangers to approve entry into Bastion. He approaches Makoto, the odd looking tiefling. As the older guard moves closer to her, he furrows his brow, looking her up and down with a gaze depicting confusion and curiosity. It's not every day you meet a woman that looked quite like Makoto, after all. He tenses his fists and releases a few times, clearly the sign of a nervous tic. He had no idea who this woman was, but something seemed distinctively off about her, though he wasn't quite sure about it. He'd remember meeting a woman like her, and he met just about everyone. The people all came through the gate sometime in their lives, after all. "Erm... Hello there, stranger. I don't think... Are you a trader, miss? Or..." He tries not to stare before he decides he really doesn't want to wait for an answer. Just as he comes even closer, possibly with the intention of getting a better look at her face, he steps on a twig in the road and squirms a little. The distraction absolutely derails his train of thought, and Galder just shrugs in place. With a sigh he quickly speaks before she has a chance to respond. "Um. Nevermind, I don't really have time to talk. Welcome to Bastion, ma'am." He nods and lets her past, and as she walks through the gates, he'll speak back to her. "Hope you find the city enjoyable, miss." He doesn't smile, but seems sort of wrapped up in his thoughts. Clearly she inspired some sort of curiosity in the Captain of the Guard. She's entirely oblivious to whatever may be making noise. Perhaps that shiny badge on his chest distracted her in some way? Or maybe that wooden leg of his.

    He moves to Blind Orthos now, already positive that this man was completely normal, and friendly. There was just something about the younger man that reminded Galder of himself. That, and the old guard felt a semblance of pity for the oracle, knowing full well what it was like to be crippled in some way. The well-spoken oracle earns a nod from Galder, and a smile, however it's unlikely that Orthos could tell that the older guard was smiling. He clasps his hands together, before before scratching at his beard. The Captain of the Guard had a bit of rainwater on his face from the way the wind was blowing. How unpleasant. He gives the sign for the man to move past him, trying to be helpful in some way. "Welcome to Bastion, my friend. No one will bother you here, aha. Just continue up the path a while. Watch for that one nasty brick in the path a bit ahead. I've tripped on it sooo many times now, hah. But, I think you'll like the city, friend. Nothing really happens in Serinet, but perhaps that's for the best, right sir?" Sanguinius will be allowed to pass, and Galder doesn't even look back as he moves forward, allowing the blind man to walk into the city of stone. Orthos won't be able to hear a thing, however, in addition to not being able to see anything, for the wind had picked up as the Captain of the Guard started speaking, distorting whatever might have been heard.

    Galder moves to the last individuals, the traders, ready to instigate conversation with them, when there's suddenly a cry for help coming from behind a gnarled tree about twenty feet away. A man lurches past the tree, his once finely made trader's clothing ripped and gruesomely torn. He's not one of the trader's the group entered the city with, but rather wears the colors of Capitas. His arm and neck are badly wounded, and thick black blood oozes from the wounds. His skin and sinew can be seen hanging from his bite wounds, and small bits of blood-colored phlegm fly from his mouth as he gurgles his speech. The blonde merchant calls out towards the others, desperate for some sort of assistance. "P-Please! Help me... They... They're coming..." Upon hearing the man cry out, the twelve guards move backwards, quickly ending up inside the city, six of them dropping their weapons and splitting into two groups of three to pull the large levers to close the door. The doors aren't full closed just yet, but the men in charge of pulling the levers are ready and prepared to do so. The men manning the ballistae prepare to aim the massive crossbows at the wounded man. The Captain of the Guard draws his greatsword, before yelling at the others outside. "Get back! Don't go to him. He's sick! One of them!" The trader desperately tries to lurch forward, tears falling from his face as he sees the men he once trusted prepare to leave him to the monsters not far behind him. "Wait.... I have a wife... Galder! It's you... I know you... please..." Galder frowns, and it's clear he's now emotionally upset. He had known the trader well. Galder shouts one more time before moving backwards. "Run!"

    "I'm sorry..."


    ---

    ((So, PC's, you are all still outside, and can choose whether or not to go help the wounded man or not. It's up to you. Your wagon is in the front, Mayli. Make a Ride check to get it inside the city before the gates close. If you choose to do this though, you can't help the injured individual. It's not combat just yet, but there are zombie forces, apparently a large one, on the way. Here's the map.))

    Map for you! (May take a second to load, it's okay. Please don't touch anything, anyone can edit it. )

    Key:

    PCs: Blue
    Friendly NPCs: Gray
    Unfriendly NPCs: Yellow
    Hostiles: Red
    Wagons: Black
    Last edited by The Mad Hatter; 2015-03-16 at 03:28 PM.
    don't click this

  7. - Top - End - #7
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Keledrath's Avatar

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    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Markin, seeing the man, quickly resolves to do what needs to be done. He hops from the cart, pulling forth the mighty blade his father had given him during his visit, Hell's Reaper, as he steps towards the bleeding man.
    I am sorry. But this must be done. I shall do what I can to help support your wife, goodman. Now die with dignity, and rest in peace.
    With his brief speech, Hell's Reaper flashes, severing the man's head from his body and ending his misery. He turns back to Galder.
    Get as many people through the gates as possible. I will help you hold off this horde while they get through.

    Spoiler: OoC
    Show
    5ft step to be right in front of the man, and coup de grace him.
    (3d10+24)[28]+(1d6)[4]
    Last edited by Keledrath; 2015-03-16 at 04:35 PM. Reason: Yay initiative
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

    Extended Sig

  8. - Top - End - #8
    Titan in the Playground
    Join Date
    Feb 2010

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Makoto

    Like Markin, Makoto too draws her weapon when she sees the man running toward them, but in an effort to defend him from whatever danger he's running from rather than to execute him. Hearing Markin's short speech, she slows momentarily, "What, wait? No!" While the executioner readies his ax to decapitate the injured trader, the kind-hearted tiefling turns and charge toward the trader, getting ready to throw her weight into him, hoping to knock him aside and evade the blow. Sorry, there's no time to be gentle!

    Before she can get there, however, the man drops to his knees as his head plops softly on the ground next to the rest of his body, the dark knight having moved too quickly for Makoto to react in time. Furious and disgusted, she rounds on Markin, "Murderer! "For that do you did what!? Him help to tried have should we!"



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    Bull Rush the victim! (1d20+2)[22]
    Last edited by Desril; 2015-03-16 at 05:33 PM.
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    Setsuna by Kymme | Desril by Wolfshonor | Eruvia (no background) by Oneris

  9. - Top - End - #9
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    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Without a thought, she grabs the wagons couch-bar, and springs back into her seat, garbing the reins, and issuing a whistle with her other hand. Her hounds gathering together in the back of the vehicle safely. She looks over to the enraged tiefling, screaming out above the whipping rain and water.

    " MAKO! CEASE THIS NYCETEE YOU FONNE, AND GET IN THE WAGON, POST HASTE! " she ordered sharply. She snapped the reins, as the horses reeled and readied. Preparing for their swift escape through the closing portal.

  10. - Top - End - #10
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    Markin turns to the tiefling's outburst.
    Young woman, that man was sick. He was too dangerous to bring into the city, and left out here he would have become nothing more than another shambling corpse like those. what I gave him was a clean and honorable death. It was the best that could be done for him.
    He gestures towards the approaching horde of zombies with Hell's Reaper, the man's blood flying from the blade.
    Now, be a good girl and get back on the cart with your sister.
    He turns away and walks to stand by the gate, between the zombies and the road.
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

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  11. - Top - End - #11
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    Makoto

    Before she could say anything more or respond to Markin's reply, the compulsion took root in her soul and, in spite of the indignation of being called a fool by her closest friend, sheathes the Aria as she jogs to the wagon and hops inside it. Calling back as she moves, "Him helped have could we, care not do I!"

    "Fine, but I'm taking one of your bottles,"
    she says as she reaches for nearest tepache, fuming at being confined here and distressed at her inability to save the trader. He was hurt and sick, yes, but not beyond salvation. He just needed a healer! If I was faster...
    Last edited by Desril; 2015-03-16 at 05:31 PM.
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  12. - Top - End - #12
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    Orthos jumps down from the wagon and readies his shield at the commotion, but events transpire beyond his sight. He bellows toward the sound of the commotion and subsequent disagreement, "Can someone tell me what has happened. I am a healer. What is going on?"

  13. - Top - End - #13
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    Markin turns to Orthos
    A local man was caught by a group of the undead. He was infected, and doomed to turn. I spared him that fate, and our young companion disagreed with my methods.
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

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  14. - Top - End - #14
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    Orthos face grows grave. "I know little of local matters. It could be that what you say is true, I can not know at this moment. I do not care for unnecessary bloodshed, but that can be left to the guards that witnessed your deed. What is done has been done, let us get inside the gate before that which he fled falls on us."

  15. - Top - End - #15
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    With a slash and a mincing of harsh words, the trader is offed in a most efficient manner by the uncaring Thorn Knight. The merchant's head flops uncermoniously onto the dirt road, black ichor and blood mixing in an oily mass, pouring from the stump onto the dirt, fouling the pathway. As the rainwater falls, there's some brief conversation, however it ends quickly. Now, Galder moves by Markin, getting out of the pathway before shouting towards the now panicking traders behind. Makoto and Mayli successfully ride the much more valuable wagon into the city. This takes them briefly off the map, but the wagon is safe for now. Blind Orthos is left outside, but quickly spoken to by Galder.

    "You there, stranger, how good are you at defending yourself? The others need time to get their wagons within! Help if you can!"

    It's clear that Galder means for Orthos to clear the road. Galder then shouts back to his guardsmen. "The door! Keep it open, don't close it all the way! But assume combat positions!" At this, the guards are quick to get to work. Now though, the sound of the moaning dead can be heard. It was faint before, but now growing much clearer as the undead approach. As the cursed voices begin filling the heads of those on the road with their agonizing moans, the group can finally see them ahead. There's two of them ahead, but many more just behind, it's quite clear. One of them hungrily gazes towards the road before rushing close, it's gore-soaked arms ready to swing towards the others next turn.

    Roll for Initiative!

    Spoiler: Actions:
    Show

    Makoto & Mayli got in the wagon and shuttled away.
    Traders get their wagons ready and prepare to move forward next turn.
    Galder moves to assume defensive position, telling both Orthos and Markin to get out of the road.
    Guards stop closing the door, rushing to the ramparts to man crossbows.
    Ballista are being loaded.
    Zombie Horde moves forward thirty feet, unable to attack in the surprise round.


    Updated Map: Roll For Initiative!
    Last edited by The Mad Hatter; 2015-03-17 at 02:24 AM.
    don't click this

  16. - Top - End - #16
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    Markin steps up besides Galder.
    I shall help you hold them off while the civilians enter the city.

    Spoiler: OoC
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    Initiative: (1d20+4)[11]
    Move to the square below Galder (I should currently be in the square behind him) and ready an action to initiate Piercing Strike when I get a line of zombies in front of me. It lets me attack a line, so I'm thinking a sweep of the three squares in front of me is ideal.
    Attack: (1d20+7)[21]
    Crit: (1d20+7)[25]
    Damage: (1d10+8)[11]+(1d6)[3]
    Crit Damage: (2d10+16)[25]

    EDIT: Including full text of Piercing Strike for convenience
    Spoiler: Piercing Strike
    Show
    With a powerful thrust, the Piercing Thunder disciple is capable of issuing a potent impaling blow with his weapon, potentially skewering multiple foes with great reach. This strike must be performed with a discipline weapon. Make an attack roll against foes within your reach in a line (example: a longspear would have 10-ft reach, and could attack any foes within that 10-ft reach in a 10-ft line). Make one attack roll and apply it to each individual within that line.
    Last edited by Keledrath; 2015-03-17 at 11:21 AM.
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

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  17. - Top - End - #17
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    Orthos takes position as requested, Shield read to interpose between the defenders and the coming undead horde. As soon as one comes within his limited perception, he hurls the shield mightily, causing it to ricochet back to his hand.
    Spoiler
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    initiative (1d20)[17]

    ready action to use throwing shell strike against first enemy that reaches 20' distance
    Spoiler: Throwing Shell
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    Using a special technique developed for surprisingly effective ranged attacks, the disciple of the Iron Tortoise knows how to deliver his shield in a powerful throw in a manner similar to a champion discus thrower. The initiator throws his shield (light or heavy shields; this does not work with bucklers or tower shields) with a range increment of 20 ft. as a ranged attack, inflicting damage as if the character had just shield bashed his opponent and inflicting an additional 1d6 points of damage and the shield falls to a space adjacent of his target (the player may choose which space it lands in). If the attacked target is within the first two range increments, then the initiator may catch the shield as a free action and regain use of his shield on his turn.


    attack (1d20+1)[8]
    damage (1d4+5)[9]+(2d6)[5]

    in snapping turtle stance (+1d6 shield bash)

  18. - Top - End - #18
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    Initative: Orthos > Zombies > Galder > Markin > Mayli > Makoto.

    Orthos:

    With a great rushing motion, the blind man winds up his shield, moving forward from the gravel path to the muddy dirt beyond, finding comfort in the rainwater. With a well-timed motion, perfected through years of work with his unique style, he throws the shield with great strength and power, his muscular arms flexing and releasing as the weapon is sent forward through the air. Unfortunately, the shield misses it's target, but reflects off a nearby tree, bouncing back to it's wielder. At the very least, he had his shield back before the zombies came too close. The rain continued to patter down onto the path, and onto his shield. Perhaps the slickness from the rain was what put the shield so off course? Regardless, the man will be able to hear the sound of the trader's carts grinding against the cobblestone as the mules that led it forward are promptly kicked into action.

    At least the merchant's were protected from the zombies for now.

    Zombies:

    The sound of gurgling ichor and breathy moans can be heard quite loudly as the creatures approach, the creatures in front deciding to charge forth, hungering for the taste of flesh. Before Markin can move forward beside Galder, they attack, cutting off the Thorn Knight from his defensive position. (One Zombie charges Markin. (1d20+6)[15] (Charge Bonus) Damage: (1d6+4)[7] + Fort Save, DC 11.) The zombie on Markin swings forward, it's claws long and sharp, hoping to find flesh to rake and tear, despite the Warlord's heavy armor. The claws do strike the steel plate, but don't even get close to penetrating the armor. However, the clear force behind the strike may somewhat jar the warrior. This thing was absolutely desperate for the taste of human flesh. Who knows what would have happened had Markin's heavy armor not been there to protect him? In addition, to the initial zombies violent attack forward, Galder is charged as well, and the monster's gore-soaked arm swings towards the guard captain, who's eyes widen as the thing approaches. The claws slash through the air as the beast growls in anger, trying to grab his shoulder and bite down hard, hoping to rip flesh and infect the Captain of the Guard. (One Zombie charges Galder. (1d20+6)[8] (Charge Bonus) Damage: (1d6+4)[10] + Fort Save, DC 11.) (Galder Save:) (1d20+2)[20] This creature had accidentally stumbled upon a rather large root from a nearby tree during it's charge, putting it's attack far off balance, missing the guard entirely. Fortunately, Orthos is spared from a charge, the large tree in front of him preventing the next zombie from charging through a straight path, instead it turns around the tree, moving close to rip at the blind man. (One Zombie moves and attacks. (1d20+4)[15] Damage: (1d6+4)[7] + Fort Save, DC 11.) However, it's slam fails to hit the dexterous man. However, another zombie moves close to Orthos, but cannot attack this round. The other zombies move, but cannot attack.

    Galder:

    The Captain growls as he's attacked, and responds with a strike of his own, his greatsword coming down over his head with just as much precision as anger. Though the attack is somewhat panicked, the older man has at least a little bit of training, and lots of experience, which guides his great blade. Just as the zombie which fumbled and missed a second before flails about awkwardly in the rain, Galder's well-trained eye finds a spot just at the thing's shoulder to come down upon. The heavy blade slices through necrotic sinew and bone, clipping an entire slice off the zombie's shoulder and sliding down through the zombie's soft flesh to nick at it's neck. However, the captain somewhat slips in the mud at the last moment, making what could have been a devastating attack only a moderately dangerous one for the zombie. (Galder attacks zombie. (1d20+5)[23] Damage: (2d6+3)[6]

    However, the creature seems badly wounded, nonetheless, rainwater mixing with it's black blood.

    Markin:

    Though the Thorn Knight cannot make his devastating swing that would have sliced across any opponents in front of him now, due to the slow wind-up of the heavy swing, he can still bring his massive weapon down upon the zombie that charged him. With a great growl, the knight expertly swings the halberd around, bringing the slashing weapon down upon the zombie that had struck his chestplate a second earlier. Markin's great weapon, Hell's Reaper, strikes the zombie easily, slashing it straight in half, down to it's chest, with ease. (You couldn't do Piercing Strike, but you still hit with a regular attack, killing it, and opening the space up for next turn!) As it's body is split down in half like a particularly violent lumberjack versus a wood block, the plague zombie explodes outright, maggots, black ichor, and all manner of vile liquids slashing and spraying all over, the plague burst affecting all adjacent enemies. Fortunately, Orthos evades the majority of the bile and body bits, but Galder unfortunately takes it straight to the face, crying out in pain as infected fluid lands in his eyes...

    There's filth all over now, it's disgusting. (Additional rolls will be taken in OOC.)

    Others:

    Moving to and fro. Guards are loading the ballista and will fire next round.

    ---

    New Map:



    That red puddle is where the previous zombie that Markin killed was.
    Last edited by The Mad Hatter; 2015-03-18 at 03:47 AM.
    don't click this

  19. - Top - End - #19
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    Mornings's Avatar

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    The Dawnhammer

    Spoiler: Initiative 5 - Action taken once able.
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    Acts when able


    She reeled back on the reins slowing and halting the wild charge through the gate, her horse bayed and kicked at the sudden excitement. With a firm reassuring pat on the rump. the beast began to settle. She parked the wagon around to the direct right from the inner city. Not far from the Gate. She issued to quick whistles, directing them at her loyal hounds. One to one team (Faust and Vigil) and another at the other pair (Chaucer and Sigurd). The later pair was always set at guard, to protect the wagon, 'The Dawnhammer'. The other two, came to her side, ears laid flat and ready. She Grabbed her hammer from just above her head from where it hung, it's massive pole-like adamantine shaft collapsed down to a manageable size, like a heavy 4ft broad anvil with a considerable handle upon it. Throwing the thing under her leather buckle upon her lower waist, beneath her bardic cloak. She grabbed her greatbow, and a large leather pouch, that looked as if it held feathered spears. She always left it close at hand. She slung them both across her back, over her messenger's pack. The ring of battle outside the gates can be heard in full now. Steel cleaving bone, and the sound of some sickening explosion. Whatever was occurring outside, whatever fate befell the men beyond those gates was of little concern to her.. but she would not let the city remain in peril as long as Mako was in it. She turned to Makoto and smiled her familiar confident smile, while throwing on her absurdly large feathered hat, that covered one eye, making her appear like an archer, and a theatre's player at once.

    " Dear, lemman... With haste and recchelees abandon you cast thineself upon tides mescheef would bring'ith upon thee. Let that be thine last misguided foore to ruin! "

    She paused, dropping her familiar speech for all but a second, and smirked.

    " Fetch my incendiary arrows, n' my satchel of oil and cloth. We make for the ramparts... Let us see how the profane and cursed enjoy drinking of fire and death. " Without a pause in step. She lept off from the couch-seat, and began running towards the walkway to the ramparts, while supporting the massive 8ft bow that bounced ridiculously across her back, two hounds closely at her side.

    Spoiler: OOC
    Show
    Flavor on picking up what she already has equipped. Mayli makes for the ramparts.
    Double move: 80ft.
    Only quiver of obsidian arrows in possession.

  20. - Top - End - #20
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    Markin steps forward, readying his mighty swing once again.

    Spoiler: OoC
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    5ft step forward onto the puddle of zombie
    Ready Piercing Strike again
    Attack: (1d20+7)[18]
    Crit: (1d20+7)[10]
    Damage: (1d10+8)[12]+(1d6)[1]
    Crit Damage: (2d10+16)[25]
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

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  21. - Top - End - #21
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    Makoto

    Blushing at May'li's choice of words, the tiefling hurries to do as bid and searches the wagon for the necessary supplies. Thank the Eternal Rose that I'm not some frail weakling or I'd never be able to lift these gargantuan arrows!

    Supplies in hand, Makoto dashes to catch up to May'li on the ramparts and help her set up her gigantic bow with her face still flushed as she quietly mutters, "You cannot just say things like that in public! Now everyone will think that we are..." she turns her head, unable to finish the sentence as the mental image redoubles her blush and she hands over the arrows.

    Spoiler
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    Move action to search the wagon and gather the supplies, then moving to catch up to May'li
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  22. - Top - End - #22
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    Orthos shelters himself from the vile explosion, then quickly turns to drive the rim of his shield into the nearest zombie. "Unpleasant creatures. I say we withdraw as soon as the wagons are past."
    Spoiler
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    shield bash against the one down and left (maximize the zombies hit by the explosion if it drops that way)
    (1d20+5)[12]
    damage (1d4+9)[10] + (1d6)[1] from stance

    when attacked, will use iron shell counter, shield bash negates attack as immediate action, prerolled here:
    (1d20+5)[18]

  23. - Top - End - #23
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    Initative: Orthos > Zombies > Galder > Markin > Mayli > Makoto.

    Orthos:

    After quickly evading the burst of filth that comes from the dead zombies' rotted carcass, Blind Orthos rushes forward, turning to ram one end of his shield into one of the other creatures, this particular undead missing a good section of his chest, bare bone visible to those who can see it. As Orthos comes close to bash the zombie, he'll gag a little bit, the repulsive stench of the zombie quite apparent, the rainwater moistening the once-drier sections of the corpse. At least when it was dried out, it didn't smell as unpleasant. However, these zombies had been chasing the other man for a while now, through the downpour, and the horrid smell was by now quite fresh. The shield clips against a large chunk of exposed ribcage on the thing, the blunt force trauma of the shield violently pushing the brittle bones back inside the zombie, bits of the bone piercing through the thing's internal organs, blood bursting and splotching out of it's chest and splashing all over the shield that Orthos wields so expertly.

    Although the thing has taken some incredible damage as it's entire chest caves in on itself, it still lives, but just barely.

    Zombies:

    The horde continues to move relentlessly forward, ever-hungry for the taste of living flesh. The majority simply move forward, unfortunately hindered by the rather large tree that separates the majority of the undead from the three brave defenders. With Markin having just crushed the undead before him, there's no zombie close enough to take a swing at him, however, several zombies do move by him to surround Orthos, which enables the pair of warriors to take calculated strikes against some of the zombies. (OOC: Orthos and Markin, take an attack of opportunity on the same zombie.) However, while Markin may have avoided being attacked, Orthos will not. Instead, the blind man will be attacked twice by the zombies to the side of him, one striking to rip away at his shoulder, the other attempting to swing his arm at an exposed chink in his armor. (Shoulder: (1d20+4)[17] Dmg: (1d6+4)[6] + DC 11 Fort.) However, the blind man deftly dodges to the side, the swipe to his shoulder missing, the zombie groaning out in frustration, seeing as it's attacks seem to continuously miss the blind man in front of it. The other zombie attacks, hoping to have more luck than his predecessor, his rotting arm like a club as he swings towards the blind man. (Armor Chink: (1d20+4)[10] Dmg: (1d6+4)[5] + DC 11 Fort.) However, this misses even worse, several bones in it's arm cracking as veins and parts of it's disgusting arm pop from over-extension. The zombie on Galder attacks the Captain of the Guard once more, despite it's injury. Although black blood drips from it's wounded shoulder and neck, the thing attacks with the same wounded limb, not appearing to feel the pain at all. It's quite unsettling. It claws towards Galder's face, attempting to rip right at him and tear what it can. (Face: (1d20+4)[11] Dmg: (1d6+4)[10] + DC 11 Fort.) However, it misses, the Guard Captain making a repulsed face as the claws come close to him. The remaining group of zombies continue to move forward, groaning as the great hunger continues to spur them forward.

    Galder:

    Galder continues to cry out in pain, the vile fluids still burning into his skin after Markin's incredible overhead swing split the adjacent zombie clear in half. However, the old guard captain swings anyway, gritting his teeth and forcing through the pain, this time bringing his greatsword below, lunging backwards and bringing the large blade up from the bottom, before thrusting it upwards from his low stance, attempting to skewer the thing's chest at a downwards angle, growling in anger as he does so. "Urgh! Damn these things! Why won't you die... Where's the god damned priest when I need him... Probably hiding behin-" The Captain loses his train of thought as he violently thrusts his blade forward. (Chest Skewer: (1d20+5)[21] Dmg: (2d6+3)[13]) The large sword finds it's mark, slicing into the chest of the zombie, the undead's own weight causing the blade to slice more of it, Galder having lifted the entire zombie into the air for a brief moment as he skewered the nasty thing. However, as it dies, it's chest explodes, sending even more of the bile out, landing on both Markin and Galder. (Rolls will be made OOC:) After the attack finishes, Galder growls and shouts out, wanting to get out of combat and wipe the plague burst off his face.

    "We need to hurry! Just a little more time!"

    Markin:

    The Thorn Knight moves forward, his heavy boots sinking in the mud as he steps into the puddle of gore, over the body of the now split up zombie. Although his early swing on the zombie that waded close was a valuable bit of assistance in combat, the time to do some serious damage was coming up. Soon the undead would have the trio completely surrounded, and now was the time to truly turn the tide of battle. Markin sees no enemy forward, but hears the groan of one of the beasts behind him and to the left. So, the skilled warrior swings his heavy weapon around, spinning in the puddle of blood and organ as he does so, using the momentum of the turn to brutally bring Hell's Reaper around to slice at the zombie's shoulders and neck. With a sickening crunch, the blade of the weapon slashes into the zombie and pushes right through, the weapon blasting through bone and slicing through flesh until the undead abomination has been completely beheaded, it's rotting head falling down into the mud and splashing. The body crumples down soon after, just as a geyser of yellowish puss and crimson blood erupts from it, the undead's death burst spewing it's bile and filth all over the two individuals nearby, Orthos and Markin. (Orthos Burst: (1d20+4)[21] Dmg: (1d6+4)[5] + DC 11 Fort.) ... (Markin Burst: (1d20+4)[21] Dmg: (1d6+4)[9] + DC 11 Fort.) Unfortunately, the geyser was particularly potent, the burst of hot steaming bile landing on Orthos, but failing to get through Markin's heavier armor, but it's very close. (Roll Fort Saves in OOC, please.)

    Now, the mud is starting to look a truly disgusting color, all manner of nasty fluids mixing into it.

    Mayli and Makoto:

    Mayli rushes onto the ramparts, brushing through several guards in full plate rushing up the stairs as well. She was much quicker than the heavily armored guardsmen, but she still gets a few heated words thrown her way by the men. What was this civilian doing on the ramparts? Only guards were allowed to be up here! However, no one bothers to stop her amid all the confusion and panic. She'll be able to find a nice place to look over the large area outside. However, the large trees somewhat hamper her vision. Luckily, Galder wears a large lantern at his hip, so the area is at least well lit. She'll be able to make a shot next turn.

    Makoto in the meantime rushes to collect the arrows and bring them back up to Mayli as the guards scramble around.

    Guardsmen:

    This turn the two ballista off, teams of four manning the pair of large and well-build ballista weapons mounted on the ramparts above the main gate, three men in plate around the first ballista, reloading it with each shot fired, one man in nothing but chain aiming the weapon to fire down. This team aims down to fire upon one of the nearest zombies, a loud grating sound coming from the siege weapon as it's pulled back and set, before fired, the large bolt ripping through the air to violently find it's mark. (Ballista 1: (1d20+5)[11] Dmg: (3d8)[11]) Despite the great size of the bolt, the ballista misses, the heavy ammunition ripping through a tree, splitting it straight through with incredible power. On the opposite side of the gate, the other team fires as well, this time aiming towards a zombie next to the one that was just fired upon, hoping to take down two of the foul creatures before Galder is overwhelmed. (Ballista 1: (1d20+5)[12] Dmg: (3d8)[19]) This bolt finds it's mark, crushing the zombie behind the one Galder skewered, hitting the creature so hard and killing it so thoroughly that the undead ends up impaled, stuck to the ground.

    It explodes, but there's no viable target in range.

    ---

    New Map: For Me:

    For Players: (Red are zombies that were killed and exploded this turn.)
    Last edited by The Mad Hatter; 2015-03-20 at 08:24 PM.
    don't click this

  24. - Top - End - #24
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    Get back, traveller! I can deal with this group!
    Markin calls to Orthos. If the warrior heads his words, he steps forward and unleashes the mighty swing he's been holding in this entire fight.

    Spoiler: OoC
    Show
    So, this is probably really dumb. Delaying until after Orthos. If he moves out of the way, 5ft step into the spot he's in, initiate Strength of Hell, and initiate Piercing Strike at the line beneath him.
    Attack: (1d20+9)[20]
    Crit: (1d20+9)[27]
    Damage: (1d10+8)[15]+(2d6)[6]
    Crit Damage: (2d10+16)[22]
    Last edited by Keledrath; 2015-03-20 at 10:07 PM.
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

    Extended Sig

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    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Recklessly, carelessly she charged up the hard stone steps, running up the circular steps, making way up to the defensive positions which the city guardsmen were postured to defend the walls. And yet........a simmering anger... an infuriation began to smolder in her breast... and yet... they did nothing. Standing upon the stone shield-like walls like helpless babes, not even daring to fire defensively. There was a time to run, a time to live, a time to fight, and a time to die. But now, here, upon this bastion's immovable walls was the time to fight, to fire, atleast defensively. Or had these trained soldiers have not the skill to cover these traders retreat. She finally made it to the rampart's walk, glaring at the still soldiers behind their crossbows and balista. Pfft... useless men.

    She charged angrily though them, it didn't matter if they put an balista arrow through a tree, a solider and a afew zombies. They just needed to stem the advance of the horde if they wished to hold the city. Protecting the traders came first, but she had no intention of being caught, held at bay as the capital was held in siege by a roaming band of undead. No, no, no. That would not do at all! She intended to do what needed doing here, and being on her way! The Urgathoan's would not be waiting for her to finish her business her as she was held under siege. Sir Giles... Lady Mawdelyn... did not have such free time to spare, while she was entrapped within Bastion.

    She charged forward madly, with strange, skip-galloping-steps. One hand on her ridiculous wide-brimmed hat, with its massive feather, one side folded up in a stylish manner. Her other hand steadying the massive greatbow and leather quiver across her back. She pushed aside the armored men, hurriedly, while shouting " Weyve! Weyve! " She paused, frustrated as she passed one bowmen standing with clear line of sight, she shoved him aside, rather then securing her hat, crying out in agitation as she advanced forward taking an alternate angle off his same sight-window all the while grumbling at him. " Je vous dy! wilt thy stant likeith some a swain wight, or loose thine arwe!? "

    She knelt down to a knee drawing the massive weapon off her back. With a quick flip and push, the limb joints bowed and extended, she ran a second string quickly setting her knock. The double string set over the bow made it take a massive arc'ed shape. She turned it flatly horizontal bracing her bow arm against the stone of the rampart's barbican, flipping up a wooden double pronged arrow-rest from the bows massive raiser. She lifted a small brace under the riser to stabilize her bowing arm. The shock of the weapon was..... considerable. A metal 'CLACK', and the massive arbaleste was set. With a smirk she tapped her hat low, over one eye. Greatbow... arbaleste... a flexible weapon, though the shock, and ammunition was the tricky part. There was no guarantee she'd hit anything with this angle and the recoil, even doubly so in this dim moonlight and the poor visibility the guard-captain's lantern provided. She could barely confirm exactly who, or what it was they were combating, but based on the previous experience with the befouled trader, and the terrible groans, she could make an educated guess. With a smirk, she turned her shoulder with a quick jerk, loosening one of the large feathered javelin-like bolts from her shoulder. She lifted her left hand, drawing the fletched-spear and fit it upon the dual pronged rest. The massive nock fitted into the double strung serving and she began to draw back. A slow, powerful keening creak issued from the limbs and they protested against her immensely unnatural strength. She drew to her knock-point, letting her hand rest on her cheek, looking down the shaft, and aiming through the window the arrow rest provided. The massive obsidian bladed spear-bolt sat drawn and readied, it's black fletch quivered under the draw weight of the weapon. The dense ebony of the wood, pitch as night. It appeared as a dark, primitive, well crafted missile. Her one exposed eye, focused... unfocused.... movement. Combat. She'd little chance of hitting anything in combat, but one particular target stood out, limping through the woods with sluggish steps. Yes, that one would make a fine target. Her hands shook from the weight, She lightly glanced down the ramparts where Mako begun her advancement. She yelled over a command as she held her shot. " Come swiftly alderlevest, 'nd light my arwe! Half dozen should do! Then takith twine and fix upon it to thine flasks. Al' should fashion a fine wepene to werreye these fonne's. " Finishing her command, she refocused upon her prey then paused, and began to sing;


    VERSE 1; Song of Calamity; Drawn To Black [Rounds Remaining 7/7]

    She focused, unblinking..... her thoughts extending outward to her target. She opened her mouth, her voice beginning as a whisper. Ritualistically, as if in trance...

    " Only the stars see.... only the moon hears... "

    She drew back slightly further, adjusting her nock-point to accommodate for her targets movement.

    " ...And quietly the water-lilies sigh,
    Like the last breath of a weary soul.
    ...And the weed sway in the dreary waters.
    ...Like a girl's dark hair they wave about.

    ...And the black stones under my bare feet.
    ...Cold and smooth like her milk-white palm.
    And the silence which falls upon this shore...
    Resounds now louder than oncoming storm...

    ...For all is gone. "



    She fired. A massive bounding sonic ripple raced through her small frame. Her feet skidded back from the shocking recoil leaving small leather burns from the friction. The bowyer's-brace locked her arm and chest securely, preventing the dislocation of her small arm from her shoulder by the violent shot. The flexing archer's paradox of the massive javelin rippled outward, with thunderous force, racing forward to meet it's target.

    Spoiler: OOC - ATTACK
    Show
    Move Action: Battle Dance (Song)
    Attack Action: Fire Arrow
    Command: Light 6 Incendiary Arrows with a tinder twig, then begin preparing fire bombs with oil flasks if possible. (A Standard Action). [Bag Contents: Oil flasks, tinder twig, twine].
    [Battle Song: +2 Attack / +2 Damage

    ATTACK: (1d20+1)[6]
    DAMAGE: (2d6+2)[4]
    THREAT: (1d20+1)[6]
    CRITICAL: (6d6+6)[26]

    Spoiler: MAP -
    Show

    Position- Marked Square (Brown/Purple)
    Target-Marked (Golden Circle)





    The distance was far longer then she had anticipated. The night had cloaked the true range she had to contend with. The recoil was also just as staggering as she had remembered. She could not see the ebon-bolt's flight, but was sure it could not have struck-true. She turned her head, yelling over to Mako;

    " Belay my last! Brace me! We shalt fynde wrye to the accosted! Perhaps the witful shall flee throwe they still catel time. "

    Spoiler: Command
    Show
    Alters command, to aid another, while firing to increase accuracy.



    [EDIT] Altered order based on distance per square.
    Last edited by Mornings; 2015-03-21 at 04:55 PM.

  26. - Top - End - #26
    Titan in the Playground
    Join Date
    Feb 2010

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Makoto

    Doing her best to catch up already, Mayli's order doesn't help Makoto go any faster, but she obediently follows the order, doing her best to light the arrows for her friend. "We are wasting time, we both know you cannot aim that thing on your own, you should let me help you!"

    Spoiler
    Show

    Short post, because I can't really do anything right now. If I still have a standard action, Aid Another ranged attack roll to help aim the bow (1d20+5)[9]
    Lilith Avatar by AsteriskAmp

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    Spoiler
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    . . . . . .
    Setsuna by Kymme | Desril by Wolfshonor | Eruvia (no background) by Oneris

  27. - Top - End - #27
    Titan in the Playground
    Join Date
    Jun 2011

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Orthos hears the warrior's call, responding, "As you say, after I distract this one from the wagon." as he slams his shield into another zombie before stepping back to let the other man enact his plan.
    Spoiler
    Show
    AOO (1d20+5)[11]
    damage (1d4+9)[11]

    att vs bottom right zombie (1d20+5)[12]
    damage (1d4+9)[12]

    fort (1d20+4)[21]

    have combat reflexes (Int based), so is more than one provoked, let me know

  28. - Top - End - #28
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    The Mad Hatter's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Location
    Elsewhere.
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    Male

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Initative: Orthos > Zombies > Galder > Markin > Mayli > Makoto.

    Orthos:

    Orthos calls back to the black knight, the pair of strategically oriented warriors positioning themselves expertly. The blind warrior brings the blunt side of his shield to the side, violently thrusting the shield upwards in an attempt to hit the zombie that maneuvered behind him right under the chin. On any other day, the strike would have knocked the foul thing's head clean off, but today the mud beneath Orthos' thick boots was particularly slippery, and the man missed by just a little due to sliding around in the muck. However, this slip-up put the shield on a course that led straight for the chest of another undead, the one to his right. Orthos growls and the shield finds it's mark, crashing into the Serinetian plague zombie with the force of a mountain, the shield hitting the zombie hard enough to push the thing right down onto the ground, it's entire front completely caved in.

    Orthos slides out of the way as well, allowing Markin to take his place and prepare a powerful swing. However, as the blind man steps away, the zombie he just killed below twitches slightly, its flesh seeming to bubble, as if something underneath was moving. It's a disgusting sight, but luckily Orthos is spared from it, due to being unable to see. However, before Orthos can move again, the zombie's skin and sinew split apart like the seams of a worn out article of clothing, it's innards suddenly exploding outward, puss and filthy fluids flying everywhere.

    Plague Burst: (1d20+4)[12] Damage: (1d6+4)[7] + Fort (Passed.)

    Zombies:

    With their numbers thinned out, the zombies are beginning to appear like a lesser threat, the horde now a good deal smaller than it once was. However, anyone who knew what these things were knew not to underestimate the horrific Urgathoan-born undead. Those that are left simply shamble forward, their bare feet sliding through the horrific mixture of blood and mud, the zombies hardly caring about stepping through the remains of those that once fought beside them. Due to their nature as a plague zombie, the undead can only move forward, unable to exert too much effort, else they'd burst. So, they approach the others once more, unable to do anything further.

    At this time, the last of the wagon's has driven inside.

    Galder:

    The Captain of the Guard looks troubled as more zombies move forward, a new creature sliding in front of him, hungrily gazing over the older man's flesh. Galder's breathing quite heavily now, his heavy armor beginning to inconvenience and fatigue him now. Still, at least he's not dead, however, his face looks rather burnt up due to the bile. He'd need medical attention as soon as he was within the walls of the city. As the newest zombie comes forth to great him, Galder coughs out violently, before bringing his greatsword back. He puts his weight on his back foot, shouting out as he does so. "The others are inside! Come on Markin, let's go! We do not need to destroy these things up close!" With a cry of battle, he growls and thrusts his greatsword forward, using it like a polearm to stab forward, attempting to rip right through the zombie's gut in front of him.

    "Run!"

    Markin:

    With a cruel look on the knight's merciless face, Markin calmly moves forward, his large and blood-covered weapon glittering crimson in the pale moonlight, and as the cold wind rushes around his form, dancing with his black cloak, the Thorn Knight swings. The slice comes at a high angle, aiming to cleave right through the head of the first zombie, then the shoulder of the second, and the chest of the third. As the weapon rips through the air with a malignant sounding whistle, it violently meets it's mark, the large blade slicing through flesh and bone as if cutting through paper. The head of the first zombie outright pops, like a hammer against a bubble, blood and teeth going flying about, mixed in with bits of chin and skull. Next, Markin's blade cuts through the shoulder of the second undead, barely meeting any resistance through the somewhat rotten shoulder bone, ripping into the creature all the way down to it's middle chest. The head and shoulder of the creature fall off, coating Markin's weapon in dirty black blood, the lungs and half-eaten organs of the zombie plopping into the mud below, a spray of foul liquids mixed with maggots bursting all over everywhere. Finally, the third zombie is absolutely decimated, just completely broken in half, spine crushed and severed, it's stomach contents dripping and flowing out of it, all over Markin.

    The gore is everywhere, and it's quite foul.

    Zombie 1: (1d20+4)[17] Damage: (1d6+4)[5] + Fort.

    Zombie 2: (1d20+4)[23] Damage: (1d6+4)[5] + Fort.

    Zombie 3: (1d20+4)[11] Damage: (1d6+4)[9] + Fort.


    Mayli and Makoto:

    For all of Mayli's loudness and vibrant clothing, she goes mostly ignored, most of the guards around her focusing upon the battle below. Though they do not have ranged weapons drawn, for fear of accidentally hitting the Captain. The ranged offensive is left to the ballista-men to lead, the other guards moving to assist in reloading the ballista with the incredibly large and heavy bolts it needs, getting the job done quite quickly. One of the guards nearby is pushed out of the way and scolded by Mayli, though he has no idea what she's saying due to her speech. As she goes to her knee and aims the large weapon, the guard in heavy plate shakes his head and grumbles towards her again, seemingly quite annoyed at the stranger that randomly whips out a massive weapon in front of him. "You... what are you doing?! You're not allowed up here, you'll hit Galder!" He makes an aggressive movement towards her, in an attempt to simply grab her weapon. Before he even gets close, however, another guard calls him back quite loudly. They needed more help with bolts. So, the guard leaves, but stares back disapprovingly before moving to help out with the work once more.

    As Mayli sets the bow down, and Makoto helps alight it, there's a brief moment of quiet meditation, the sound of guards arguing fading into the background as Mayli sings her song of battle. She takes a deep breath and realigns her shoulders, taking the stance that she'd worked on most her life. Just as she's about to fire the shot, however, a cloud of red, yellow, and white is spotted by her, down by Markin. Something horribly violent just happened over there. The distracting gore causes her massive arrow to miss, the shot falling just a bit out of the way.

    However, it seems that combat may be winding down.

    Guardsmen:

    The guards continue to scramble about, reloading the ballista this turn.

    ---

    New Map: For me:

    For Players: (Red are zombies that were killed and exploded this turn, wagons are inside.)
    don't click this

  29. - Top - End - #29
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Keledrath's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jan 2007
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    GMT -5
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    Male

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Markin, following Galder's orders, begins to fall back, taking the shoulder of the blind man who had aided them in combat as he retreated.
    Follow me back to the gate!

    Spoiler: OoC
    Show
    Move back into the gate. Markin should be able to make it, even in his heavy armor.
    I follow a general rule: better to ask and be told no than not to ask at all.

    Kelon by nijashe

    Extended Sig

  30. - Top - End - #30
    Titan in the Playground
    Join Date
    Jun 2011

    Default Re: A Dark Horizon II: (Invite Only) IC

    Orthos withdraws to near the gate, taking up a defensive position to cover the others as they withdraw.
    Spoiler
    Show
    ready action to hit any enemies that come in range (1d20+5)[7]
    (1d4+9)[11] +(1d6)[2]

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