RE: ~*Getting To Know You*~


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10/28/2015 23:05:45

Ted Zlammy
Member

As Thatch laid on the floor like a puddle of self pity, he didn't think the day could be any worse. He, of course, soon found that thought was incredibly wrong on several levels. First off, Nilburke just had to be charming enough to toss the contents of a mug right onto him, soaking his chest and his recently returned sock! Than he, and Keystone had to laugh at it! But well, that was nothing compared to when that fog rolled into the tavern.

As he laid wet and soggy on the floor, Thatch noticed it creeping in from the top of his vision. The bizarre upside down sight of a fog seeping into a tavern was something in itself, but what it brought gave flashbacks of Thatch's earlier encounter with the metal devil dog before he zapped into the tavern. The freaking fog seemed to have made what Thatch could only describe as actual Hellhound materialize out of thin air up high in the rafters! Metal dogs and now an honest to goodness demonic dog!

Realizing that it would be an incredibly bad idea to continue to lay on the floor, Thatch quickly stuffed his wet sock into his vacant boot, and promptly stuck his bare foot into it afterward. The sensation of the wedged in wet sock in his boot felt soggy and uncomfortable to his foot but, well, there was a demon dog the size of a horse up in the rafters! With his footwear acquired, he rolled over to the nearest window of the tavern and noticed Nilburke toss some sort of vial as Thatch rolled and rolled.

Thatch didn't immediately take notice of the effects of said tossing, for when he was close enough to the window he quickly stood himself up and pulled out his mallet from his satchel with his right hand. With mallet in hand, Thatch leaned against the wall beside the window and performed a well practiced swing at the glass with the intention of shattering it. As he swung, he briefly took in the sight of the tavern room. Nilby had apparently made some sort of plant grow around the Hellhound from that toss of his! Thatch couldn't exactly tell what kinda of plant on account of it burning though. He also took in the sight of the others reacting in their own ways against the threat as well, such as how Keystone tossed a knife of all things at the devil beast's face.

To be honest, Thatch was having trouble with what he ought to do. He wasn't sure if he ought to book it and run, or stay and stupidly fight. All he knew was that he had broken the window as a quick escape to an open area for his newfound acquaintances, since well, it'd be pretty bad if that thing got close to anyone in the crowded tavern. There was all sorts furniture within the tavern which would get in the way. Oh, and actual patrons too. Run or not though, Thatch reached for one of his concealed hatchets with his left hand whilst eyeing the Hellhound, watching whether he needed to dodge or not from the demonic dog.

AQW

Post #: 126

10/28/2015 23:25:54

Remaint
Member

His grievance against a well-known trait of dragons aside, the prospect of employment came to mind. Afterall, the undead conquistador couldn’t expect to linger alongside Sana’s company for very long, should they even tolerate him. Woyadei needed something to do with his unlife upon Lore, preferably something stable. He had once led a long unlife of solitude and wandering, in the jagged, frigid mountain ranges and plateaus of Shuischeier. In that time, peril forever lurked just past the horizon of sight, the stoney or freezing walls, or an inch past his very feet in the form of unstable, snowed-over sinkholes and gorges. While thrilling, and astoundingly rewarding emotionally his icy adventure had been, the conquistador could do for a change from riding solo in yet another area filled with dangers.

When one thinks necromancer, one thinks undead. Logically, it would be fair to say Woyadei seeks stability under necromancers. That’s not the case, however. Necromancers are notorious for performing the most inhumane of experiments, on the most varying of targets. Woyadei didn’t favour to risk losing himself in some obscure, obscene manner at this point. He was very content with being the not-rotting undead molniromancer-dragoon who looks comparatively decent in regards to the standard intestines-falling-out-brainless-incoherently-groaning zombie. Talking in humane tongues is a fair bit more advantageous than gurgling with broken vocal chords as well. Subordination to the Sorcerers of Death outside of consideration, there leaves Demon Kind and Vampires. Surely there must be some overlord or two in want of a magic-immune sorcerer-soldier?

Turning toward the noble hunter, Woyadei began his thoughts. “Miss Valher. What is the status of demon-kind or vampire-kind within this realm?”

< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/29/2015 20:04:20 >

AQW	Post #: 127

10/29/2015 19:14:31

Bastet
Member

“All right, Rajiri, my misery’s not terrible enough to crave permanent rest.”

Rajiri listened carefully to Woyadei’s words, expecting an aggressive answer that would force her to begin a fight with the zombie instead. What she got instead was an open-palm gesture and a promise not to annoy her again, which was definitely more than the red dragon had hoped for. She observed Woyadei carefully before returning to a normal stance, continuing to carry the Grabbi. Of all the responses the undead could have offered, Rajiri was definitely surprised to determine that he had picked the one she least expected to hear.

With no more reasons to offer the zombie her attention, the red dragon went back to minding her own business. The few sighs she heard were definitely not enough to incur her wrath, though the constant smell of death certainly was, but she couldn’t do anything about that without Arche’s permission. Rajiri was almost starting to enjoy the quiet when the blasted undead started speaking again, interrupting her thoughts. The question wasn’t aimed at her, but she still listened in on the conversation: it was still a way to gather more knowledge about her own kin, since she had already determined that there were quite a few differences between Arche and herself. Information about Woyadei’s motivations could also be gathered, but that was something that Rajiri was definitely not interested in, as the undead himself had previously estabilished.

“Miss Valher. What is the status of demon-kind or vampire-kind within this realm?”

< Message edited by Bastet -- 10/30/2015 5:36:35 >

Post #: 128

10/29/2015 20:18:02

Draycos777
Member

After placing the map and egg back within her sack, Arche refastened her vest, her dragconic features returning to their more humane form, and moved to return back to dragging the Grabbi along. A few minutes after sighing, Woyadei asked Arche an interesting question.

“Miss Valher. What is the status of demon-kind or vampire-kind within this realm?”

Arche tilted her head slightly, thinking about the question.

"-Most demons are powerful summon creatures by strong mages, or weak ones that get controlled. There is a demon kingdom, but it is fairly new and is trying to hold it's own against countless attacks from the Holy Order. I don't know much, since I tend to keep clear from anything to do with them. Mostly because doing business with the demons would hurt my family more than help."

Straightening her head, Arche scratched the back of her head.

"-As for Vampires, most are in the cursed forest passed the mountains to the west. Ruled by a powerful Queen. Wouldn't recommend visiting though. Between the constant war of the vampires and werewolves, the humans have also gotten stronger. ShadowSlayers, I think they called themselves. A couple attacked me the last time I was there by mistake because of my element. They realized they were off a bit when the magic I started flinging around was dragon-based. They aren't too bad, but they can be as trigger-happy when in comes to slaying the undead and necromancers as the Holy Order can be."

Arche paused for a second before she continued; "-But now Werepyres and Dracopyres have joined in the war."

When the word Dracopyre was spoken, the clear sound of disgust cut through Arche's normally flat voice. She hated their existence, and those that willfully took up a curse that mocked her race. She continued on, though, as if nothing had happened.

"-As for necromancers, things aren't looking very good for them right now. Due to recent events with the Holy Order, the waylines, that supplied the old form of nerco magic, have been broken. Most have lost their dark magic, and only the more powerful or crafty necromancers have begun to build up necromancy from the ground up. If their is some good new for them, it's that the Holy Order took some losses as well, and have other things to deal with right now, than chasing what left of the necromancers out of hiding."

AQ	Post #: 129

10/29/2015 23:32:05

Remaint
Member

“...There is a demon kingdom, but it is fairly new and is trying to hold it's own against countless attacks from the Holy Order...”

This was half-ways decent information. A whole kingdom of demons should provide an adequate buffer against being singled out and hunted down. It being under siege or assault can work to Woyadei’s benefit. While he did not have the resources to ward away an entire army, the conquistador could conduct supply raids and hopefully make a reputation to be accepted within that society. It was not the most promising of options, and Woyadei hoped better news will follow.

"...-As for Vampires, most are in the cursed forest passed the mountains to the west. Ruled by a powerful Queen. Wouldn't recommend visiting though. Between the constant war of the vampires and werewolves, the humans have also gotten stronger...”

The terms ‘cursed forest’ and ‘Queen’ brought a glowing light to the undead’s thoughts...that was quickly trampled by the noble hunter’s later sentences. What is this, Noctenvale 1.0? De Valher’s description of the western forest very easily fit said dark territory’s condition all throughout its history. Noctenvale is the heavily forested and hilly domain of vampires and devil-kind, with long experiences of conflicts stemming from crusaders, paladins and slayers. Recently, it was an almost bearable place to be. The Holy League’s influence was no longer as prominent in the region, which meant opposition came in the form of rag-tag gatherings instead of army platoons. The notable difference between Noctenvale and the Lorian location being the status of lycanthropy. From Confederate records, werewolves became extinct some centuries ago, unable to keep up with humanity, devil-kind, vampires and miscellaneous undead in matters of organisation and technology.

De Valher’s warning was to be heeded, if Lycans and Slayers were anything like Wendigo and Chasseurs, Woyadei didn’t want to plough through Cursed Forest alone, especially not in a time of war. I should get ‘Cursed Forest’’s name for reference...

"-But now Werepyres and Dracopyres have joined in the war."

The disdainful tone in which the noble hunter spoken 'Dracopyre' was not missed by the conquistador. The tone spoke of unnatural obscenities, disgraces, abominations. So, closer to modern-day Harrowshreik... Woyadei’s familiar equivalent, the City of Screams it was sometimes called, composed of more than a mere city, but a vast and varied landscape raked by wasted rivers, marked by treacherous mountains and planted with bloodied plains. The most diverse of horrors laid within, from creatures that appear to have their interiors outside, shadow-like entities who gleefully torture, organisms composed of corrupted flesh, maybe infected with synthetic material and very notably, pathogens relating to zombies, mummies, wendigos, vampires, nearly every demon and undead throughout the realms. The territory of Harrowshreik was also no doubt a war-torn region, having constant combat perhaps every hour and being the testing ground for artillery, bomb and weaponised mechanism development. Yeah...Cursed Forest, Harrowshreik 2.0, alone? Count me out.

“...Due to recent events with the Holy Order, the waylines, that supplied the old form of necro magic, have been broken. Most have lost their dark magic, and only the more powerful or crafty necromancers have begun to build up necromancy from the ground up…”

This was rather surprising. One would think those who endeavor in the taboo would gain an untouched advantage over those who refuse to, and are narrow-minded enough to murder those who do. As this was not the case, Woyadei could only believe the Holy Order of this region had the advantage of organisation, and even numbers. Alternatively, the necromancers of Lore were simply less competent than those of the Dominion, and humanity, ever being the stable civilisation builders, capitalised on their weakness. At the least, Territory Remilon’s Holy League held no basis on Lore, and the undead conquistador was not looking for the presently scarce necromancer aide.

“Where may the Kingdom of Demons be located? Given I am likely unwelcome in most of this world, I would like to be less of a bother and move to an area where others simply do not care. I have experience in dealing with the Holy League, and I should be able to assist the demons.”

< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/31/2015 22:00:12 >

AQW	Post #: 130

10/31/2015 19:35:45

Draycos777
Member

“Where may the Kingdom of Demons be located? Given I am likely unwelcome in most of this world, I would like to be less of a bother and move to an area where others simply do not care. I have experience in dealing with the Holy League, and I should be able to assist the demons.”

"Trying to find a place for his self in this world, huh? I can't say that that is a bad thing, but..."

Arche reached out her right hand towards Rajiri to relive her from having to continue to drag the body of the Grabbi.

"-Sure, if you feel like taking a trip through the Holy Order. Head south from the town and keep along the coast until you reach a relatively large port town. Once there, I'd look for an old sea captain named Borius."

Arche's face soured a bit from a past memory.

"-Can't miss him really, and even if you do, I'm sure you'll be able to find his ship. For some reason or another he decided to name it the 'Laughing Pepen'. Oh, and try to keep your conversations to a minimum or he'll talk your ears off with his stories. Trust me, anything you say has a hundred percent chance of getting him to tell you one of his naval battles. You'll never get to where you going if you don't try to steer him along. But, he's the only one crazy enough to take cargo and people east to the Demon Kingdom. Once you hit land, you're pretty much on your own from there on out. I suggest trying not to get caught up in the battles that take place all along the Kingdom's borders."

Arche turned to look at Woyadei.

"-I don't know if it is true or not, but, supposedly the Demon Queen personally inspects every foreign reciut. If they pass, she places them the unit she deems most fit, and if they don't...well I'll leave it at that for morale's sake."

Arche turned her head back around to face the road ahead of them. It would still be awhile before they got back to town, but at least they could see the main road now.

"-Well that's assuming you're able to get past both the Holy Order and the Kingdom's border patrol as well as the skirmishes."

Just then, an old wind blew. Arche's face darkened and she focused on the horizon.

"-Something doesn't feel right. I hope the town is alright."

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 10/31/2015 21:59:19 >

AQ	Post #: 131

10/31/2015 21:33:23

Remaint
Member

"-Sure, if you feel like taking a trip through the Holy Order. Head south from the town and keep along the coast until you reach a relatively large port town. Once there, I'd like for an old sea captain named Borius."

Woyadei paid the dragon-kin his full attention throughout her instruction. This was not idle wording spawned about from a conversation of whim, but solid intelligence key to whatever opportune path the conquistador will take. To remain on a southward trail close to the coast felt familiar, in a relieving way. Desert, grasslands, steppes and plains are all open and vulnerable, but being close to water allows an escape path mortally unorthodoxed. When journeying on cavalry or foot throughout the Dominion of Mist, it was vital for one to be prepared for sudden submersion. Walking through river or seabed was not foolproof in safety, but still dissuaded many perils in the dominion. In the land of the living, it should dissuade most threats.

The mention of an old sea captain brought another sense of somewhat positive anticipation. No matter the quaintness of Borius, he could be counted upon to hold competency. The seas are dangerous, Dominion or Lorian, and seafaring folk are required to perform their tasks to the best of ability, lest they risk the wrath that lie 'neath the ocean’s waves. The captain being an old veteran will work to the favour of Woyadei, as information on the state of Lorian navies could be gained alongside what other miscellaneousies he may tell. On a minor note, it would be comforting to stand upon sea legs once more. 'Laughing Pepen' hm? I've been on the 'Loving Banshee' and 'Yelling Crow'...

“-...I suggest trying not to get caught up in the battles that take place all along the Kingdom's borders."

The advice will be considered, but will be disregarded depending on the circumstances. Woyadei was a force unknown, the element of surprise is stacked upon his already formidable arsenal of range, mystic immunity and mobility. There is a phrase one human stated: Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt. It was a phrase which never fails to make the conquistador grin, especially at this time. Firstly, the Holy Order could shine no light on the plans of the undead conquistador given his spontaneous appearance, and secondly, he was sure even the human would be impressed that he could literally strike with lightning.

"-I don't know if it is true or not, but, supposedly the Demon Queen personally inspects every foreign recruit. If they pass, she places them in the unit she deems most fit, and if they don't...well I'll leave it at that for morale's sake."

Then, quite fortunately, Woyadei didn’t include joining army regulars in his strategy. He held no idea of their ranks, technology and power, there was no point in obeying instruction that failed to compromise with his capabilities. Reconnaissance must be done before he will operate in teams. Should he consider to win favour from the local sovereign however, there are better ways to prove one’s worth outside of following standard instruction.

"-Well that's assuming you're able to get past both the Holy Order and the Kingdom's border patrol as well as the skirmishes."

A notable predicament, depending on the area of the...island? Peninsula? Archipelago? While the possibility of difficulty was concerning, Woyadei was not without advantage in the task. The steed he rode, the giant millipede, had quite the remarkable ability: to scale walls and terrain past 90 degrees from horizontal. Specially designed saddles have been manufactured, and equipped to Dominion millipedes, including the conquistador’s own Comrade Pedes. To be able to ride past the steepest and hideous of terrain should aid Woyadei greatly in navigating throughout the...geography of the Demon Kingdom without harm. In addition, both Shock Pillar and Snap Lightning could be used behind cover and on pedeback without trouble for distraction.

De Valher’s information in mind, the undead conquistador formulated a plan with further details. He is to locate occurring battles and observe, the targets in mind being supply caravans who are bound to move to and from sites of conflict. Woyadei will track said supply train to their routes and seek members whose load is full. Several bolts of Shock Pillar a hundred-forty-five metres out and behind stone, trees or a simple depression in the ground will bypass guards, leave no direct trace of attack and allow for safe escape. This is a strategy perhaps deemed Vulturing the Predator in Shuischeiren and Harrowshreiken circles, to be a third party negating the resources of a main force while they are preoccupied.

"-Something doesn't feel right. I hope the town is alright."

Attention now toward the horizon, the conquistador frowned. The wind itself was no peculiar omen to him, but his millipede again found itself close to him, a metre to his right. Its antenna waved back and forth, as if in agreement with the dragon-kin.

“Hm. Before we are busy once more. Thank you for the information. You’ve provided me with much to consider and I am grateful.”

< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/31/2015 22:33:18 >

AQW	Post #: 132

11/2/2015 10:50:46

Afina
Weaver of Epic Yarns

The vines and thorns burned, cindering into smoky ash which held its shape and embered on each edge and tip. The dagger flew from Keystone and while the flora that held it were quickly falling to the ground below, creating a rain of ash, the vines slowed the beasts movements and the dagger hit. It did not hit true though and merely grazed the monsters fur to his right shoulder as the hellhound finally broke free and lept from the rafters, aiming downwards and landing in the hearth which blazed st the center of the room. The dagger had cut but it could be seen that the blade did not go as deep as it should have. Its dark eyes narrowed as it growled and eyed Keystone as if he was to be the beasts next meal.

That was until the shattering of glass ripped through the crackling sound of the hearth and the growl of the demon like creature, turning its attention quickly to Thatch as shards hit the ground. Sana moved quickly, not to strike but instead hopped up to the bar and pulled the arrow nocked into the string of her bow back, the arrow gleaned in the tavern light, silver and pristine.

"Hey pooch, over here," she yelled with a whistle. "Momma has something for you," she added but held her ground and did not release the arrow yet. She had faced these before, she had to wait to the right moment. The beast lowering its head as it turned to face Sana head on.

< Message edited by Afina -- 11/2/2015 11:02:00 >

Post #: 133

11/2/2015 15:07:29

Sigil
Member

Hellhound was on ground level now. Terrain wasn't entirely open, but open enough to maneuver. If there were any locals still in the middle of the tavern, they had something to lose.

Combat seemed to sharpen Keystone's perception of the world around him; put him in a place of almost savant-like tactical awareness. Getting him to complete long division right now would net two outcomes for the person asking: botched mathematics and cracked ribs. Give him something to hit... it was art.

He was strong. Very strong. His knife should have sunk in further, considering how hard he hurled it. Something was off about this beast, it seemed tougher than others of its kin he had witnessed before. Larger, as well, much larger. This only increased his desire to end the conflict as soon as possible, with the least amount of sharp damage to it the better. He wanted its hide. If he could get in close without getting crisped, he felt he was the guy to do it.

All the same, priority had to be with the lives of his new friends and others in the alehouse. His own wants weren't more important than their need to keep pushing clean air past their teeth.

The fractions of seconds ticked by like ponderous thunder. Keystone's body wasn't moving as quickly his perception of the events unfolding before him; he had no choice but to witness the actions of those around him and respond as crude flesh and bone allowed, planning accordingly.

AQW	Post #: 134

11/2/2015 18:17:02

Krey
Member

Verna could only respond as the others did at Thatch's fall, joining in with their laughter at the lad's unfortunate collapse. Whether they realized it was her doing or not was of no consequence to her—truthfully, it was often much more entertaining for her pranks to go without an obvious owner. This had the dual benefit of keeping people from turning on her quite so quickly, and providing an extra layer of entertainment as folks turned their jokes on the poor victim of her antics. Of course, in this case, she doubted if they hadn't figured it out. She had, after all, tossed the sock back to Thatch. Points in her favor though, she did give it back.

The air in the tavern changed very quickly, though, as the archer stood, freed her bow and drew an arrow, as if preparing for combat. She followed the bard's gaze, turning her head to witness the fog as it rolled in through the crack beneath the door. One brow raised, and her body tensed in preparation for something bad. She too rose, eyes widening just a little as the fog began to pull away, revealing a vicious-looking canine the size of a horse. Red, singed fur covered its body, and between the jaws was... Well, nothing. The very definition of nothing, if she had to guess, and this was certainly cause for discomfort. There was only one beast which came to mind, and though she'd never seen one, if this wasn't an actual hellhound, she imagined she never wanted to see one.

To be fair, she'd rather not have looked into the eyes of this beast. Too little too late.

T'was Nilburke to act first, a vial tossed at the creature, loosing thorny vines upon the creature which served to slow it just enough that the attack which followed, Keystone's, found it's mark... Almost. It struck, but it looked as though it barely crazed the creature.

Noticing Sana's movement towards the bar, Verna decided flanking would perhaps be the best choice in this event. With a fluid movement, she unclasped the robe from her throat, revealing a red leather bodice and leggings to match. It fell to the floor as she took off, sprinting across the room towards a table opposite the beast from where Sana hopped onto the bartop. As she ran, she took a knife from her left arm, the strap falling open easily as she grabbed it. Nearing the table, she glanced at the beast, mentally prepping her aim, then leaped into the air, body twisting into a right spin with all the grace of a dancer. Near the end of her spin, she flung the knife at the beast's left hind leg, aiming for the Achilles' tendon, and landed crouched atop the table, her balance careful.

She loosed the knife from her right arm, holding it in her left hand in preparation to strike again... or to defend herself, depending on how the creature moved.

AQ	Post #: 135

11/2/2015 19:27:43

Afina
Weaver of Epic Yarns

Sana held her position and kept the whistle going to draw the beasts attention. She may have been quick to react to a pushy bartender but in a true fight she had the patience of a saint. So she held her ground. The beast eyed her as Verna flipped into place and released the dagger. It flew true and hit its mark, slicing lightly through the skin of the beast bit did not cut near as deeply as one would think. The dagger landed imbedded into the wall behind the beast. The slice caused the hellhound to howl in a hollow bellow of pain and broke its attention from Sana, it's eyes flaming towards Verna as it stepped down from the hearth. The wooden floor below its feet cindering and creaking under the heat and weight of the horse tall beast.

Sana let a slow silent breath escape her lips as her fingers opened and the arrow relaxed finally from its home. It's mark was the right side of its chest just below the nape of the creatures neck. It found a new home just slightly to the right as the creature tried to lunge at Verna, only to be driven back by the force of the arrow as it drove full shaft deep into its chest up to the feathers.

"Silver sucks don't it," Sana smirked as she quickly nocked another arrow into place. "Dagger on my hip, someone grab it," Sana yelled as she drew and took aim once again. The hilt of a silver blade protruded from the sheath at her hip. The beast stumbled as it tried to regain its footing from being knocked back against the hearth.

Post #: 136

11/2/2015 21:23:45

Sigil
Member

Silver... The beast was harmed more readily by silver. Good to know.

Keystone's view of the situation had him turning into a giant spent matchstick if he moved forward like he wanted to, where he felt he might make short work of the monstrous fire-dog. From a glance, the Hellhound was pacing, possibly confused. It was reacting at whatever hurt it last. Now was time to get its attention back on him.

Sana gave a call, prompting anyone near her to use her dagger while she held aim. While not the nearest, Keystone was close and the first to react. He snapped into action, barking a quick, "On it!" before strafing toward the archer, eyes on his intended target. His knuckle-dusters slipped from his right hand to rejoin the set on his left, freeing his preferred throwing arm.

In an instant, Keystone had retrieved the argent stabbing utensil and flipped it over in his hand to grasp the blade. He exhaled partially and slammed his right foot in front of him, using the momentum of the action to put every muscle group possible into the throw - if he was lucky, it wouldn't have an intact trachea in a moment.

It seemed a little inefficient, throwing away the one melee weapon he knew would harm the beast. Judging by the charred pawprints it left in the wooden flooring, however, there was little chance that Keystone would be advancing into close combat unless he was offered no useful alternative.

Besides, if he missed, (the massive pugilist reasoned) the wet guy with the socks would be in prime recovery position. Unless Keystone accidentally impaled him. Such was tavern life.

AQW	Post #: 137

11/3/2015 17:31:24

Afina
Weaver of Epic Yarns

Sana held her ground once again as Keystone took the dagger from her hip. She normally wasn't one to share weapons, especially one that held such a deep personal meaning to her but what good would it be if they died? She just hoped she could recover it after the fight for it had a long story behind it.

The hellhound slowly regained itself and stood on all fours though it was obviously injured as the blood poured from where the shaft of the silver arrow still remained buried. It's black blood spilling out and oozing onto the floor causing wifts of smoke to spiral and trail up towards the rafters. It seemed every thing of this beast burned with an inferno of hell.

Keystones throw was true but the beast now stood looking directly at both Keystone and Sana as if he was about personally escort them back to the abyss from which it came. It went to hunch down but the shaft of the arrow from Sana was wedged between ribs and its clavical, hindering the beasts movements. The dagger hit hard and drove deep but just missed both the treachea and the jugular, impaling between the two. It was not enough to stop the beast nut the blood poured from the wound as it shakingly leapt towards the pair. Sana still held her ground.

Post #: 138

11/4/2015 12:42:58

Apocalypse
Member

Vines and thorns tore at the creature's leg but were reduced to embers and ash as the beastie revealed his fiery nature. The scarlet hue of its fur had been a strong indication, but assumptions could not be held as truth until there was some form of verification. Assumptions were the leading cause of deaths in the pursuit of knowledge and was a terrible condition to have paired with curiosity.

Beastie leaped from its high perch and landed in the hearth, the flames licking up the canine's sides. The temptation to call it a hellhound grew, but Nilburke was certain it was a similar yet different breed. Much like the phoenix and the firebird, it would be forgivable to mistake one for the other. Now, the goblin had never seen a hellhound in the flesh before, but usual descriptions included them being wreathed in flames instead of fur and wolfish in appearance. This one seemed very much like a hot dog by comparison.

Knives flew and found their marks only to be shaken off by the beastie. It was only when Wheat struck with a silver arrow that tonight's entertainment registered a significant amount of pain. Nilburke shook his head. The Tanglers had proven inefficient and his Combustors would be straight-up detrimental to the group. And if the likes of Brute were having trouble causing damage with conventional weapons, then his meteor hammer would be nothing more than an incessant fly buzzing around the beastie. The goblin had meant to expand his vial collection while traveling with the caravan, but there always seemed to have been some trifling matter to attend to or an interesting event to study. Serves him right for being unprepared and for having the audacity to walk into a tavern that had just unleashed a bolt of lightning as a warning to all potential patrons.

Lacking proper vials, great strength, or anything crafted silver, the sole course of action Nilburke could take in this battle would be to serve as a nuisance and a distraction to keep the softies alive while they pecked at the beastie as they competed for the glory of the killing blow.

It was the part he was born to play.

A nimble hand produced a second vial, this one a vibrant green in color. Not the pleasant green one associated with the light shows street magicians put on at night, but the kind that reminded one of venom. Nowhere near as deadly, of course, but just as unpleasant and much more repulsing.

"Round two, dog!" Nilburked whipped the vial at the ground right in front of the beastie as it charged towards Wheat and Brute. A haze as vibrant as the liquid would burst forth with a radius of forty-nine-and-a-half and hover for an average of sixty-three seconds. Anyone or anything who passed through it who have their orifices filled with a burning sensation. While doing no physical harm, the senses were overloaded with the noxious smell and stinging vapors. Of course, the most opportune targets were the eyes, nose, and mouth, but any other opening - whether natural or inflicted - would also be subject to the pain until washed out. Good thing beastie did not have opposable thumbs.

Nilburke cast a sideways glance to Keystone the Brute and scratched his chin. "Arseplitter" was an unearned name, but "Arsestinger" might not be so off the mark.

Post #: 139

11/5/2015 15:56:16

Afina
Weaver of Epic Yarns

The Hellhound leaped as best he could, trying to take down the two that had dared inflict wounds to his hellish form. Had he not been already injured and his burning blood spilling out to eat away at the floor hos attack would have been quick enough to get passed the deterant that the little goblin had thrown but this was not the case. He leapt straight into its path and halted in his tracks, spatting and hissing in pain from the cloud, quickly trying to retreat back only to have his rear press up against the rounded stone of the hearth behind him.

Sana could only smirk, the goblin had done well and his numerous vials that he kept tossing out reminded her of Drizzak. She wondered for a split second if he also drank his vials and spat fire like her old friend. The thought was gone as quickly as it came. It was not the time to dwell on the past. The beast was injured but not out yet. She held her ground against on top of the bar, slowly and carefully taking aim with another silver arrow as the rest lay within the quiver on her back. She had wondered at one time why she would ever need to carry such arrows but each run in with an unholy beast proved to her that they were needed.

Post #: 140

11/6/2015 12:53:26

Bastet
Member

“Hm. Before we are busy once more. Thank you for the information. You’ve provided me with much to consider and I am grateful.”

Rajiri didn’t appreciate the thought of allowing Woyadei to join an army of demons, as she would have rather dealt with a holy order than an army of insane magical creatures whose purpose was nothing more to ruin everything around them. That is how Rajiri saw demonkind, though she hadn’t met a proper member of that race yet: it simply was what her father had taught her. Even Arche would be starting to push the boundaries of her respect, as the red dragon didn’t feel like letting a possibly dangerous individual roam free.

At the very least, the undead had addressed Arche using the kind of language that is due to dragons. Unless she had failed to detect sarcasm in his voice, which would swiftly lead to the zombie’s second death, he had properly thanked Arche for her answer. Whether Woyadei was worthy of being given that information was another matter entirely, but he seemed to had lost his death-seeking attitude. This only reminded Rajiri of the fact that if it wasn’t for her fellow kin the conquistador would already be facing the dirt, with as many shattered body parts as possible.

Rajiri simply sighed, without meaning anything in particular. She didn’t have a reason to join the ongoing conversation, and at that point boredom had gotten to her to the point where she almost wished they had reached the human town already. She was in no hurry to hurl herself into a trap, but she would accept the risk if it meant that she could spend more time with Arche.

Post #: 141

11/7/2015 15:55:45

Krey
Member

Her dagger had struck but hadn't done the intended damage, and now the oversized pup had turned his attention towards her in preparation to retaliate for the minor damage she'd caused. Touchy beast. She looked him in the eyes, shuddered a little, and then her signature grin returned. “Here puppy puppy,” She taunted, and as he leaped, she took a side-flip off the table to get out of the way.

Not that it mattered. The crash she expected to hear as the beast collided with the wood of the table never came, as the beast took a silver arrow full-on to the side of his chest. She barely heard Sana, but that explained a bit. Her weapons were standard steel, and if the beastie had a resilience to all things not-silver, well, no wonder he was still moving. Might be time to invest in some specialty pieces... After the whole hellhound thing was over with, anyways.

As the others kept him occupied, she circled around the room so that she was no longer opposite Sana and Keystone, but to their right. The hound was about ready to lunge at the two when Nilburke tossed another vial, and the creature's attack was cut short as he sputtered, backing away and pinning himself against the hearth. Seizing the opportunity, Verna tossed the dagger from her left hand to her right, took aim, and flung it at his left eye.

His hide might be tough, but she'd yet to meet the creature what could shrug off a knife in the soft jelly of his eye.

AQ	Post #: 142

11/7/2015 19:55:55

Afina
Weaver of Epic Yarns

Sana took long deep breaths as she watched the creature, mere seconds passing in battle from attack to attack and she knew better than to jump the gun, as it were, with this creature. She had faced one before and even though she had been only support in that battle due to circumstance she had learned a lot seeing her group fight as she had provided boosts with song. She would have rather resorted to song over silver but it had become obvious quickly that this group had not faced a beast like this before. So she held.

She kept quiet as she watched Verna out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to distract the beast just yet. She was glad she had as well. Vernas dagger flew true and it sank deep into the eye socket, only finally stopping as it hit the brain cavity. The soft eye was still resilient against the steel but this only served to slow the dagger and make the drive that much more painful. The beast reared up on its hind legs, trying to paw at the dagger which tickled its grey matter. It was not done yet, a flash of fire erupting from its jowls and pillaring into the air above it.

Post #: 143

11/7/2015 20:49:50

Draycos777
Member

“Hm. Before we are busy once more. Thank you for the information. You've provided me with much to consider and I am grateful.”

Woyadei's voice snapped Arche's attention back to her party. Nodding, Arche acted as if it was no big deal, but turned her head to face Woyadei. Even though she had told him how to get to the demon kingdom, because she could care less if he wanted to get himself killed in the trip. Something still didn't seem right to Arche.

"-What exactly do you plan on doing once you get there? You already serve another land, whether it is on Lore or not. So surely you don't plan on serving another. Fighting on the frontlines alone is bound to get you attacked by both sides, even if what your doing is beneficial to the demon army. Simply because those not officially on a side are wild cards, and the demon kingdom can't take a risk like that right now."

Arche paused, thinking back to what Woyadei had said about his own demon-kind.

"-I should probably let you know that the demons of Lore's demon kingdom are a little different than the ones from your world. Most of the demons on lore that love suffering, are usually the ones that idiot mages some from the lower levels of the underworld. These are the ones that hate the living realm. The ones from the kingdom are mostly from the upper levels. Though that's not to say they are all good. Of course the are some bad ones, but not many. Many of the human settlements that are within the kingdom's borders are actually treated well."

Hearing Rajiri sigh next to her, Arche turned her head, tilted slightly, to face her.

"-Is everything alright? I'm sorry if this is horrible boring."

Arche did have to admit, with nothing to do and being left out of the conversation, this walk would be awfully boring.

"-We should be to town shortly now."

AQ	Post #: 144

11/8/2015 5:30:15

Remaint
Member

"-What exactly do you plan on doing once you get there? You already serve another land, whether it is on Lore or not. So surely you don't plan on serving another. Fighting on the frontlines alone is bound to get you attacked by both sides, even if what your doing is beneficial to the demon army. Simply because those not officially on a side are wild cards, and the demon kingdom can't take a risk like that right now."

If within the Dominion someone had said this to Woyadei, the conquistador would not have hesitated to berate and mock them. The crux of the undead’s complaint stemmed from the noble hunter’s mention of the words ‘plan’ and ‘frontline.’ He thought it was obvious, that an appearance and steed without noticeable armour would only mean he would avoid frontline combat at all cost. For someone having seen the molniromancer’s abilities first hand, guerilla warfare and supply raiding should have been the first assumptions regarding plans. Where Woyadei was, of course, was not the Dominion, and only an eye twitch occurred for a split second before the conquistador thought to explain himself. It might have been correct for the undead to have expected less from a foreign hunter, no matter how noble, given the relative infrequency of warfare in the region.

Additionally De Valher’s quick conclusion to ‘frontline’ may have meant wherever the Demon Kingdom lies, the landmass was small, which while possibly not informative, was still worrying.

"-I should probably let you know that the demons of Lore's demon kingdom are a little different than the ones from your world. Most of the demons on lore that love suffering, are usually the ones that idiot mages some from the lower levels of the underworld. These are the ones that hate the living realm. The ones from the kingdom are mostly from the upper levels. Though that's not to say they are all good. Of course the are some bad ones, but not many. Many of the human settlements that are within the kingdom's borders are actually treated well."

Thinking back to the little information about the Dominion’s devil-kind loosed earlier, the conquistador supposes he might have given the wrong impression-again-. True, many Confederate demons seem to be suffering-incarnate, ever sadistic in their ways, but he had to acknowledge his ignorant descriptions where it’s due. The population of demons numbered in the millions within the archipelago, and for Woyadei to have encountered a significant sample size-thousands even-, to say they are only known for messing about minds wasn’t very accurate.

Confederate devils are a very varied demographic, having many, rather charitable fellows in addition to those who derive pleasure from fear and turmoil. For every ruthless director, every terrible brute, there were rather kind researchers, soft-spoken medics, benign constructors. There’s surprisingly a notable number of establishments where demons operate ‘safe zones,’ areas that would reliably remain, well, safe. From the typical natural, unnatural, artificial, unexplainable perils in the Dominion. Said operators were, quite funnily, indiscriminant in accepting sentient beings. They catered to ordinary humane types, crusading humane types, unfeeling golems, arbitrary revenants, variable animals, practically everyone. Certain members of the Holy League didn’t fail to capitalise upon this, of course, and one may hear of holy terrorists wreaking havoc in the safe-zones every now and then. Just why were they so generous at peculiar times, Woyadei couldn’t fathom.

"-Is everything alright? I'm sorry if this is horribly boring."

The undead conquistador was about to answer the noble hunter until she addressed the more savage dragon-kin. He wondered if Rajiri would say something amusing, and so paused to hear her response.

< Message edited by Remaint -- 11/8/2015 5:40:27 >

AQW	Post #: 145

11/8/2015 15:14:40

Sigil
Member

"Bloody 'ell" whispered the underclass protagonist, surveying the status of the infernal beast in the tavern. Three blades hanging out of it, one precariously embedded in the beast's eyesocket. A foul green mist swirled about it, not quite burned away by its blazing rage-belch.

For a moment, Keystone felt a pang of jealousy. What took him a high protein/legume heavy diet, superior colonic-rectal kegel training, and a prelit candle was accomplished with ease by this hellish canine, and in mid combat no less. One day, Keystone. One day...

He could taste the acrid fumes in the air, feel a minor drying of his eyes that threatened more soon. The bit of minor alchemy Nilburke inflicted would distract the creature, but between the Hellhound's blistering aura and the chemical gas around it, the possibility of sustained melee combat seemed heavily ill-advised.

Perhaps he didn't need to have a sustained presence in close combat, though. Most of the work was already done - all the large fighter had to do was give a shove in the right spot to end this. A quick glance to Sana and Nilburke, his expression indicating that he was contemplating something potentially monumentally stupid, and he was off.

The instant the beast's Hellitosis started to subside, Keystone sprinted two steps forward and leapt. He gathered what force he could muster and concentrated it into a single, powerful palm heel strike, centered in his free, right hand.

The target: Verna's dagger.

If he was very lucky, he could eliminate the threat before the heat and fumes took him down.

AQW	Post #: 146

11/9/2015 15:40:18

Bastet
Member

"-Is everything alright? I'm sorry if this is horrible boring."

Rajiri shrugged in response to her kin’s question and apology. She was as calm and bored as it would get for her, to the point where she’d be rather be fighting off an assassin for entertainment. It was rare that she allowed herself to reach such a state, spending her free time hunting game, training herself or exploring new lands. That was the price she paid for her desire of remaining in contact with one of her kin, but hopefully something exciting would’ve happened soon enough.

“I don’t have much to add to this conversation: I have never become interested in demons or those who support them, except for the few who have actually crossed paths with me. I couldn’t say much about them, I moved on as soon as I was finished disposing of them. They didn’t appear as anything more than red-skinned humanoids, so I imagine they weren’t of particularly high rank.”

The red dragon looked at the sky above, idly thinking back to the to the time she had spent in the place she was born. Her father had made sure that she was brought up thinking in the same way he did, and she never knew of much of her mother. She had first made it a point of her journey to learn more about her, but it was a taboo subject in regards of her father. Finding someone when you know absolutely nothing about their physical features if often impossible, and this brought Rajiri to end her search after spending months wasting her time. If she couldn’t find the second being whom she owed her life, she would wait until a proper opportunity arose.

“I would treat demons as I treat any other creature: they are to be bent to my service if they can be of any use, exterminated if they oppose me, or ignored if they are absolutely worthless and neutral. I haven’t been given any special reasons to think of them any differently.”

That was about as much as Rajiri had to say.

Post #: 147

11/9/2015 19:21:59

Remaint
Member

“...I have never become interested in demons or those who support them, except for the few who have actually crossed paths with me. I couldn’t say much about them, I moved on as soon as I was finished disposing of them…”

As the orange dragon spoke, the undead conquistador rolled his non-existent eyes. Rajiri’s statements, while expected, still struck Woyadei as absurdly haughty and arrogant. At this point he wasn’t sure if even the necropaleontologists of Noctenvale would stand to keep company alongside the dragon-kin. The conquistador would bet on an hour of tranquility at most before he supposes the researchers would bind, gag and drug Rajiri prior experimenting on her against her will. Necropaleontologists, -or necrobiologists given her alive nature, associated with Morseren could probably deal with the orange dragon’s attitude. Their patience was eternal, so people say. If in the hands of Woyadei, however, a day alone with Rajiri would drive him mad. By said day’s end, he’d have tied her up like some wild animal and auctioned her to the highest bidder.

The one emotionally-innocuous sentence the savage dragon-kin mentioned was that the demons she had defeated were red in skin pigment. Back within the Dominion, such pigmented devil-kin typically roamed the ground under Noctenvale and Harrowshreik, with some walking about ever-diverse Karaser. To this day many wondered how and why were their exteriors red.

“I would treat demons as I treat any other creature: they are to be bent to my service if they can be of any use, exterminated if they oppose me, or ignored if they are absolutely worthless and neutral. I haven’t been given any special reasons to think of them any differently.”

Woyadei smirked at this statement. Such phrasing was befitting of the orange dragon’s arrogance, but, was also the very demeanor his own Confederacy held. At the very least, the Confederacy was productive. The presence of the powerful organisation led to liberation of whole countries, subjugation of entire continents and inventions of the sort that revolutionised total realms. What feats have Rajiri achieved to wield such a perspective, kill some lowly fools? Grow to be some wasteful brat? The conquistador had to will his smirk off his expression. The dragon-kin needed not to know his thoughts, he needed not more conflict with buffoons alike Rajiri’s caliber.

He turned toward the more reasonable dragon.

“To answer your question, Miss Valher; I may be a Landsknecht to Shuischeier, but to serve the Confederacy can and is interpreted very loosely. Afterall, Landsknechte are mercenaries. Besides, the fact of the matter is, demon-kind lingers on the rear foot. There have been reported visions, that devils have been meager in population and influence in many countries, continents, realms, including this one based upon your descriptions. It may be contrary to what I implied, but I respect devil-kind. Their general determination, and willingness to border the extremes rival that of any great species. Also, every detriment toward the Holy Orders is a gain to me. I’m not very fond of those ignorantly stubborn or prejudiced.”

The conquistador paused, trying to formulate an answer to tactics without condescension.

“I’m a Dragoon, a unit type made for versatility. It is not my intention to charge head-first into opposing lines, but to remain hidden, and launch disruptive attacks on supply convoys. Comrade Pedes over there can run at a horse’s pace perpetually, and I’m no stranger to mounted combat. It’s unlikely battlefield cavalry, let alone any infantry, will subdue me, provided they know my location in the first place. In the worst case, I’m Shuischeieren, I will retreat to the waves.”

While Woyadei would usually be adversed to simply handing out his capabilities and strategies like so, Nemes de Valher had been surprisingly helpful, and so he supposes she held the right to a return in information. Still, the human’s words: ‘Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night…’ smacked him like a master striking an incompetent student. The thought that the noble hunter was probably indifferent to his intentions alleviated his inner cringe somewhat.

< Message edited by Remaint -- 11/9/2015 20:02:08 >

AQW	Post #: 148

11/10/2015 17:36:47

Draycos777
Member

Arche listened to her fire-aligned kin as she spoke of her matter-of-fact view on other races. While Arche didn't quite share Rajiri's point of view on the subject. She could say that she was completely different either. However, instead of races, it was basically everyone. It was something about those whose mouth was bigger than they could handle. Luckily for Arche, she hadn't met too many people that could make her blood boil enough. Of course there were two back at the tavern that came close. Hopefully they would take her advice and quit before they brought out that side of her.

She hated it when she had a internal, elemental dissonance. Especially since both sides of her greatly disliked how she acts when it happens. This was on of the reasons Arche spoke that way she did. It helped with her profession, sure, but it was to help keep her emotions in check more than anything. Due to her transformation being triggered by magic within her blood, changing forms is easier for Arche and other shadow dragon-kin. However, this also makes it that much easier for her to lose control of her emotions. By practicing that the words one speaks has no effect on them, one's mind can begin to believe such. And this is the method that Arche takes, although there are points that anyone will respond to if pressed enough.

“To answer your question, Miss Valher; I may be a Landsknecht to Shuischeier, but to serve the Confederacy can and is interpreted very loosely. Afterall, Landsknechte are mercenaries. Besides, the fact of the matter is, demon-kind lingers on the rear foot. There have been reported visions, that devils have been meager in population and influence in many countries, continents, realms, including this one based upon your descriptions. It may be contrary to what I implied, but I respect devil-kind. Their general determination, and willingness to border the extremes rival that of any great species. Also, every detriment toward the Holy Orders is a gain to me. I’m not very fond of those ignorantly stubborn or prejudiced.”

Arche turned her head to Woyadei, hearing the undead address her.

“I’m a Dragoon, a unit type made for versatility. It is not my intention to charge head-first into opposing lines, but to remain hidden, and launch disruptive attacks on supply convoys. Comrade Pedes over there can run at a horse’s pace perpetually, and I’m no stranger to mounted combat. It’s unlikely battlefield cavalry, let alone any infantry, will subdue me, provided they know my location in the first place. In the worst case, I’m Shuischeieren, I will retreat to the waves.”

Arche couldn't help but think that Woyadei might have misunderstood her. Though some form of misunderstanding would be expected when two people of different realms spoke. Arche spoke to explain her reasoning.

"-Frontlines may have been the wrong word, sorry. However, guerrilla strikes are not an uncommon occurrence, especially against supply lines. Both warefforts have guards that travel with supply caravans. They was a rumor of a Holy Order unit getting wiped out by a fake caravan carrying nothing but demon troops. Of course, like the genuses they are, the Holy Order now mixes in fake caravans as well. So to say that the frontlines, includes the supply routes isn't technically wrong."

Inwardly, Arche laughed that the undead's lack of forward thinking. One should at do research before taking off toward a war-zone. Talking to a resident of this world, no matter their status, did count as research in the young dragon-kin's eyes.

"-What happens if theres a mage or two in the caravan you attack? Sure you can retreat to the ocean, that's if you can make it there in time. Horses aren't very good at out running pre-loaded crossbows and magic spells that cover large areas. Even if yours is armored, like you said, you are not. Well, I won't stop you. If the Demon Kingdom wins or if the Holy Order wins, either way they'll still be killing each other off. It's a win-win for me."

Arche gave Woyadei a slight grin.

"-Also, was that a jab at the Holy Order, or at something else?"

AQ	Post #: 149

11/10/2015 19:30:55

Remaint
Member

For a moment, the undead conquistador simply forgotten about Rajiri’s presence when he made his little quip, ‘I’m not very fond of those ignorantly stubborn or prejudiced.’ There potentially went his plan of ‘The dragon-kin needed not to know his thoughts, he needed not more conflict with buffoons alike Rajiri’s caliber.’ Quick to, but awkwardly fumble with a response, Woyadei spoke.

“I...err…” He wanted to state the phrase obviously didn’t apply to the orange dragon, but the fact that it did, made it a lie. The conquistador wasn’t too used to lying.

“J-juust the Holy Orders.” Woyadei coughed.

Rather conscious of his blunder, the undead rapidly and abruptly moved to change topics to one much more manageable.

“Mages, bow-wielders and ambushes are accounted for. I will demonstrate.”

Without turning his body, the molniromancer threw his glaive vertically and snapped his fingers. An arc of lightning trailed around him once, streamed to circle a boulder ten metres away once and bolted to surround a tree 40 metres away once before smashing into dirt 80 metres away, once. He caught his glaive at the termination of his attack. This took me at least a decade to do.

“Another demonstration.”

Still facing the noble hunter, Woyadei casually swung a false-edge rising cleave, a Sottano, looping into a true-edge downwards cut, a Fendente. Brief seconds passed, and a great bolt of lightning rained upon the ground 150 metres behind the party. Many months passed before I could vaguely aim this, many years passed before I held this range.

“Those I will harass will not have even a glimpse of me. Preloaded crossbows will have no target to aim for. Caravans filled with hidden troops will only lead to battlefield crematorias. I do not fear direct fire from magic and projectile either. The former does little to me, and while the latter will easily wound me, my body is comparatively effortless to repair. This is assuming bows are assuredly over 120 pounds in draw-weight, and projectile heads are of the correct geometry.” Woyadei pushed aside the coat-material close to his neck. Blackened maille of Aeternasteel Alloy laid beneath.

The conquistador looked about, still vigilant in case of potential unaccounted others.

“Within the Dominion of Mist my status is unremarkable. Relatively few still utilised directly combative magic and neither 170 pound vampire longbow or mach speed lead shot will heed my natural immunities. It is because I wield molniromancy that they titled me Conquistador, one effectively suitable to mind foreign affairs. I should also say I’m not particularly adamant in choosing to war on the side of the Demon Kingdom. It just seems to me the less perilous of decisions in the long term.”

Truly, to defend a demon kingdom seemed most reasonable to the molniromancer. He was seasoned in fighting guerrilla wars, and thus he knew how to survive in them. Woyadei certainly welcomes other options, however. A vague thought occurred to him, that he could simply live underwater in some abandoned shipwreck. Mulling about the idea further, it seemed rather appealing, actually.

< Message edited by Remaint -- 11/10/2015 19:40:27 >

AQW	Post #: 150

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