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=DF= Friday the 13th - Rising Fire! War Stories and Poetry

 
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4/13/2012 15:13:24   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


PLEASE remember the rules in both AE forums and my own L&L rules.

A couple of rules to make this easiest to read.

1) One post per person. If you have an ongoing story, please just edit your post to continue it. Do not make a new post to add to your story.

2) Please do not comment on the stories in this thread. If you want to comment on the stories, please go
=DF= Friday the 13th - Rising Fire! War Stories and Poetry April2012 Discussion


< Message edited by Eukara Vox -- 4/13/2012 15:16:16 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 1
4/13/2012 20:29:57   
Dragonman
Member

TDLNND 1:
Me:
Welcome to The new TDLNND

I Dragonman66 would like to say my vacation from wars, while short, was too long!

In election news some major candidates have dropped out of the race for mayor... mainly Clyde the turtle, because he lost the run for Mayor 5k (That's about 2.5 Miles) as a rule, after losing that race you may not run for mayor.

I thank Zork Knight, bob!!!, Kinzville, Xan, The Odor, Dornalca, djkramer123, 123Rob100, Prince Amrod, Wraith, Baron Dante, ~SoaringAbove~, Dragos Chronos, Angelixx The Good, Faerdin, plue344, DoomCake1234, Ace127, The Cow says MOO, Axel459, Deviance, dragon deamon, The Master, bobeee, smartman294, Keldor, megakyle777, Rytis 155, runekiri, Civer, Und3rgr0und, glaisaurus_x, Drago_BloodMoon, kingyugi456, AlkaNephrite, WallyWeaver, Lightcaster, golden1231, Voodoo Master, Soulless Shadow, 1girlhousefan, 3 Vandoran, The Hollow Soul, lloydbunyan101, and Me supporting me.

You all may vote for me to replace Mayor Rayf... just tell me! and If you want you can have my campaign bumper signature.

I am sure you have all heard by now about the newest hero to join us against Wargoth's troops... Xan

Parasol Corporation, Fireproof Ice Cubes® Now you can put ice in your soup without it getting melty, you can even make fire cold now... how amazing!

Remember Parasol Corporation is in no way related to Ebil Corp.

Speaking of Cheeseburgers... a few of you have met dragonman111 he is not me! Just wanted to make sure you knew that!

That is all that I have BattleOn

Now to Kinzville!

The Odor:
quote:

This is The Odor reporting from the War camp for TLNND! Earlier tonight all the portals around Atrea vomited out its foul load of troops. The heroes have once again answered the call to arms and are now meeting the enemy under the blazing suns of the Sandsea.

The failure that struck us last war, The Hat Challenge have been presented a new. If we destroy these fiery foes before midnight next Friday we will receive our lost treasures. So let us redeem ourselves in the cauldron of battle my friends! For Lore, Atrea and THE HATS!!! BATTLE ON!!

Kinzville:
quote:

Why thank you Dragon. There are now two Dragoman’s on the warfront. dragonman66 and the new dragonman111. In a shocking twist my pie loving co anchor`s, name twin is running against him for mayor. Eric Greydawn has earned the title Iron Gut Crumpet Thrower! After he ate a hand grenade and threw a crumpet. We will be back after this short break.

Fireproof Swords®. (They come in four types: Long sword, short sword, great sword and scimitars) For when you feel like poking the flames!


And we are back! Now strange flames were seen around the same time a small imp grunt was heard. A metal chain leash was found at the site. The results for the recent scouter test on Xan, have come in. HIS POWER LEVEL IS OVER 9000! Speaking of that since Xan is off fighting imps we need a new cameraman! Anyone can apply as long as they know how to hold an orb, and pan in and out with it. In other news Velya had to be isolated due to Wargoth`s puppetry! Well before we go I just want to remind you I will be at the war camp this weekend handing out Dwarf Bread crumpets and hand grenades to our troops, on be half of every one here at TDDLNN.


TDLNND 2:
Me:
Hello and welcome to The Daily Lore News Network Dragon!

First off a special interview with warmonger runekiri
quote:

So runekiri... How insane of a Warmonger would you say you are?


Kind of depends on what defines insanity. I'm not usually very twitchy, and I always prioritate schoolwork over wars, so I'm probably not that insane.
I do however feel that I am very dedicated to the wars of DF, as I spend all the time I can spare on them.
I always attempt to finish everything I need to do before wars, so I usually end up with a few thousand waves, but I'd still say I'm not particularily "insane".

I see, what was your favorite war, and what is your record for waves in a war?

The final 13th. It was during that war that I visited the forums for the first time, and it was that war that made me as dedicated to DF as I am today.
I believe my record in a war was around 8000-9000 waves. Most of them foot-waves. This was of course during the final 13th. Seeing how long that war lasted, it still wasn't that much, I guess. I actually take more pride in my smaller wave-counts for the much shorter wars.

I see... Personally everytime I max out I immediately forget how many waves I've done... Impressive record though
Is there anything you'd like the TDLNND news loving public to know?


...Err...Umm...
Battle on everybody! We do this for the hats!

Yes for the hats! Anything else?

Dragonman66 for mayor? I don't know. What do you want me to say?

Haha! Thanks for your time!

My pleasure. Good luck with the newscast, and the war.


That was runekiri!

Zork Knight, bob!!!, Kinzville, Xan, The Odor, Dornalca, djkramer123, 100Rob123, Prince Amrod, Wraith, Baron Dante, ~SoaringAbove~, Dragos Chronos, Angelixx The Good, Faerdin, plue344, DoomCake1234, Ace127, The Cow says MOO, Axel459, Deviance, dragon deamon, The Master, bobeee, smartman294, Keldor, megakyle777, Rytis 155, runekiri, Civer, Und3rgr0und, glaisaurus_x, Drago_BloodMoon, kingyugi456, AlkaNephrite, WallyWeaver, Lightcaster, golden1231, Voodoo Master, Soulless Shadow, 1girlhousefan, 3 Vandoran, The Hollow Soul, lloydbunyan101, dragonman111, and Me are my wonderous supporters for mayor.

Now one last thing... get well Lady Greydawn, We all miss you already!

Now to kinzville!

Kinzville:
quote:

Thank you Dragon, in recent news, Hobgoblins is now extinct. This may be related to the last Friday the 13`th war. At our current rate, we'll be done before Wednesday! Also apernattly Squires fight like warriors. While Knights jump a lot for golems. We will be right back after this.


Fireprood Mage Robes® (Note: They are fireproof, and ONLY fireproof. Every single other kind of magic will pretty much destroy them. And you.) For volcanic spell casting!

And we are back! We have had some staff changes. Ash is our new camera man for this war! Ash why are you waving? You’re BEHIND the camera they can`t see you. Also Zork Knight is our new Economist. There was a war race earlier today. The participants were Eric Greydawn,(the former Warmonger King) Erlyn (the warmage) , The Oder (TDDLNN`s own felid reporter), and Teh Cataclysmic One (to be known as Taco from now on) . The winner was Cataclysmic, so he is now the new Warmonger King! ALL WARMONGERS BOW TO TACO! Also Eric is serving tacos on his house. LETS ALL RAMPGE IN THERE AND EAT! Ok so now THUD dang it Ash stop dropping the camera orb! Great you cracked it, we`re gonna have a split screen effect now! Any whys it`s time for me to sign off!


TDLNND 3:
Me:
Welcome to TDLNND

I'm Dragonman66 with some news... we're almost at 50% keep fighting!

In election news Artix dropped out of Election for Mayor yesterday

Now to Kinzville

Kinz:
quote:


Thanks Dragon, in recent news we are pwning the challenge. The races for the title of Warmonger King are still going on. Also the renowned cheese lover/Ebilcorp hater/poet/ program coder San Robin has created a War calculator. Note that the data is fictional for the purpose of testing the product. No word on whether it will be released to the masses. Now for a word from our sponsor!

Fireproof Cowls® (Because we care about dem rogues too) For breaking into Xan`s house!

And we are back. The winner of today’s war race is Erlyn. Though he did not beat Taco`s (Cataclysm) record. So Taco is still the warmonger king! The race final score is 579. WAIT THIS STAION JUST Received THIS MESSGE!

To Mritha`s purple legion:
Someone within you’re ranks are not who they seem! Beware there are purple haters about!
~Sincerely Anonymous

Hmm sounds like there’s a spy in the purple legions! Now to our own Economist Zork Knight with this war`s toll on the Loreian econmey.

Zork:
quote:


Thank you, Kinz. This war has been VERY good for the market of Ice and Water weapons. Blacksmiths keep forging them like if it was the end of the world. A fiery, burning end. HOWEVER, they should be careful, because, if they don't slow down, at the end of the war, the Lorian economy might suffer a crash (Not sure how it didn't when Au'Mydas turned half of Lore into gold...)

Parasol Corporation's Fireproof Assorted Deadly Viruses®. KILLing IT WITH FIRE won't work this time.

Also, because of the extinction of Hobgoblins in Lore, heroes will no longer be able to get their weapons from those mysterious chests, wich also increases the value of Fire weapons. However, that will only happen when the war ends, since, currently, NOBODY wants a Fire weapon. That is all.

TDLNND 4:
Kinz:
quote:

Wellcome to TDDLNN, in recent news the color wars have returned. These one seem to be different, there is a lunatic saying the Golden must die for purple. Due to this she/he (can`t tell) has started a war with the Beacons, even the purple members, are fighting against him/her. In other news there was an avalanche today. Said to be caused by Light and Water allying with Mastery. We will be back after this message.

Fireproof Ice Cubes® (Yes) now even pryomancers can enjoy ice in there drinks!

And we are back! The missing person search for Warlic is still going on. In semi relted news the search for Wargoth`s son has resulted in failure. Hmm I wonder……………. HUH? Oh yea sorry. Umm well a recent survey, states that Tacos are popular among the war camp. Well now to Dragon.

Me:
Thanks Kinzville.

I, dragonman66, have been busy with behind te scenes campagning work for the past 2 days. However, tommorow I should get a good 3 hours for war.

Speaking of the election, Zork Knight, bob!!!, Kinzville, Xan, The Odor, Dornalca, djkramer123, 100Rob123, Prince Amrod, Wraith, Baron Dante, ~SoaringAbove~, Dragos Chronos, Angelixx The Good, Faerdin, plue344, DoomCake1234, Ace127, The Cow says MOO, Axel459, Deviance, dragon deamon, The Master, bobeee, smartman294, Keldor, megakyle777, Rytis 155, runekiri, Civer, Und3rgr0und, glaisaurus_x, Drago_BloodMoon, kingyugi456, AlkaNephrite, WallyWeaver, Lightcaster, golden1231, Voodoo Master, Soulless Shadow, 1girlhousefan, 3 Vandoran, The Hollow Soul, lloydbunyan101, dragonman111, Varen6398, and Me, a good 5 lines of text, are my supporters... When I get to 6 lines I'll do something special...

In other news Ice Cream sales are booming, mainly because twig is reportedly "Hungwy" More on that tommorow.

Now I'm signing off Battleon!

TDLNND 5:
Kinz:
quote:

Welcome to TDDLNN! Today is a slow news day! We are going at a rather slow pace. Though we won`t let that bring us down! THIS IS LORE! We will be back after this short break.

Fireproof Assorted Deadly Viruses® (Because they weren't hard enough to kill.) They come in Smallpox’s, Chickenpox’s, Chickencowpox`s, Mumps, Mono, Vampirism, lycanthrope, and the Z virus.

And we are back. Ash set a new record for having your hair set on fire today! The prices of Dragon Food, Gryphon food, and any kind of wheels have shot up. Because of this sea travel is the cheapest. Though not always the safest thanks to Pirates, and Kathool! In semi related news, Mirtha has seemed, to become a pirate who lives in the lurker tree. Also throwing water balloons into the rift will NOT help the WPM go up! Dragonman beat Miran. This race was just for fun not for ether of the 2 elections going on! (mayor and warmonger king) Now to Dragon! Um Ash you’re pointing the camera orb at the wall! Dragon`s on the other side of me! There you g.. THUD did he just trip! GIVE ME THAT THING I~LL TAPE THIS PART!

Me:
Welcome back to TDLNND

Zork Knight, bob!!!, Kinzville, Xan, The Odor, Dornalca, djkramer123, 100Rob123, Prince Amrod, Wraith, Baron Dante, ~SoaringAbove~, Dragos Chronos, Angelixx The Good, Faerdin, plue344, DoomCake1234, Ace127, The Cow says MOO, Axel459, Deviance, dragon deamon, The Master, bobeee, smartman294, Keldor, megakyle777, Rytis 155, runekiri, Civer, Und3rgr0und, glaisaurus_x, Drago_BloodMoon, kingyugi456, AlkaNephrite, WallyWeaver, Lightcaster, golden1231, Voodoo Master, Soulless Shadow, 1girlhousefan, 3 Vandoran, The Hollow Soul, lloydbunyan101, dragonman111, Varen6398, VanHellsin24, and Me that is still not 6 lines... almost there though!

To clear up some minor confusion while I had more waves at the end of the run... I do not know how many I started with so the winner in the race between Miran and I is unknown

Remember to not eat Ice Cream it is becoming an endangered food item because it is being melted and eaten by the millions by Twig.

We do not know why Twig has ll of a sudden decided to eat our Ice Cream, but it makes us very sad...

In other news... Wait a second, the camera's broken, you can't see my face... What's going on? Don't drop it... that didn't help it's more broken. Arggh....

I guess we need a new camera.

Tune in later on for 40 Boulder.

that is all...


Come on you dropped it again... Xan was a better cameraman!

Battleon!

TDLNND 6:
Kinz:
quote:

Welcome to TDDLNN, it is a slow news day. We are losing ground but gaining forces. It seems caffeine, muffins, and crumpets are the biggest selling war snacks. We will be back right after this.
`
Fireslaying Spears® (Forged with 100% real Ice Dragon scales. At least that's what they told me.) For spearing fire monsters.

And we are back. This just in it is Erics DF intern Anniversary,! CONGRATS KENS I! We have till midnight Friday for the challenge. FOR THE HATS! Rumor has it that the boss we be someone we have faced before! DUN DUN DUN! The Systerity Set will be our reward from the boss fight. Now to Dragon.

Me:
Welcome back to TDLNND news after an all time slow wave amount earlier today we now have more than 1500 WPM good job warmongers.

In other news, the Alien army's general is an enemy we have already met. Tomorrow, after my news report I will enter the portals and attempt to figure out what it is.

In other other news, EbilCorps ninjas have offered to destroy the portals... it was unanimously voted not to,because that would prevent the Atealans from returning home ever.

Xan was sighted having a slushie with bigfoot today... reports are not confirmed.

Zork Knight, bob!!!, Kinzville, Xan, The Odor, Dornalca, djkramer123, 100Rob123, Prince Amrod, Wraith, Baron Dante, ~SoaringAbove~, Dragos Chronos, Angelixx The Good, Faerdin, plue344, DoomCake1234, Ace127, The Cow says MOO, Axel459, Deviance, dragon deamon, The Master, bobeee, smartman294, Keldor, megakyle777, Rytis 155, runekiri, Civer, Und3rgr0und, glaisaurus_x, Drago_BloodMoon, kingyugi456, AlkaNephrite, WallyWeaver, Lightcaster, golden1231, Voodoo Master, Soulless Shadow, 1girlhousefan, 3 Vandoran, The Hollow Soul, lloydbunyan101, dragonman111, Varen6398, VanHellsin24, ACW0, and lastly , me all vote for me I believe that is still 4 lines. Let's get to 6!

Thanks for voting for me!

That is all for now... Battle and Vote ON!

TDLNND7:
Me:
Welcome to TDLNND

I'm dragonman66 saying good job guys! I know as a fact today we have gone from 73% to 84% in 5 hours that's averaging 2.2% an hour!! Great job warmongers! Finish this war before 5:00 tomorrow and I'll do a special extra newscast from inside the portals.


Zork Knight, bob!!!, Kinzvlle, Xan, The Odor, Dornalca, djkramer123, 100Rob123, Prince Amrod, Wraith, Baron Dante, ~SoaringAbove~, Dragos Chronos, Angelixx The Good, Faerdin, plue344, DoomCake1234, Ace127, The Cow says MOO, Axel459, Deviance, dragon deamon, The Master, bobeee, smartman294, Keldor, megakyle777, Rytis 155, runekiri, Civer, Und3rgr0und, glaisaurus_x, Drago_BloodMoon, kingyugi456, AlkaNephrite, WallyWeaver, Lightcaster, golden1231, Voodoo Master, Soulless Shadow, 1girlhousefan, 3 Vandoran, The Hollow Soul, lloydbunyan101, dragonman111, Varen6398, VanHellsin24, ACW0, and me.

All of you guys deserve free Ice Cream, but you should wait until after the war because it's all melted now!

In other news, there are about a 20 different dragonmans on this forum (go ahead search it). Are these enigmas who never post defenders of good like 111 and I, or fighters for evil? Will we ever know?

In other other news, I'm off to fight waves ecause we are way to slow... Now to Kinzvlle!

Kinzvlle:
quote:

Thanks Dragon, in recent news the mad wave rushes have started. It seems that household cleaning items like mops and brooms, work against there monsters. Also it seems the river Styx is leaking from the underworld into the dessert. We will be back right after this!

Twin Ice+Water Combo Blades® (Think about the Twin Blades of Glory. Now think about them blue and white. And with one side frozen. And the other one GLOWING.) For slashing sand slashing!

And we are back; Xan has been sited burning imps on the steak. Rumor has it that Xan may work on our side against Wargoth. FIRE AGAINSIT FIRE! Ashen Squires or other monsters are being lit on purple! THIS JUST IN: they are also being lit on blue. When asked about this, Lim had this to say

“It goes against science! BAH!” There you have it folks. Well tune in next time!

TDLNND 8:
Me:
Welcome to TDLNND

I'm dragonman66 and as of this point in time we have approxomently 6:14 left

Now my voters are Zork Knight, bob!!!, Kinzvlle, Xan, The Odor, Dornalca, djkramer123, 100Rob123, Prince Amrod, Wraith, Baron Dante, ~SoaringAbove~, Dragos Chronos, Angelixx The Good, Faerdin, plue344, DoomCake1234, Ace127, The Cow says MOO, Axel459, Deviance, dragon deamon, The Master, bobeee, smartman294, Keldor, megakyle777, Rytis 155, runekiri, Civer, Und3rgr0und, glaisaurus_x, Drago_BloodMoon, kingyugi456, AlkaNephrite, WallyWeaver, Lightcaster, golden1231, Voodoo Master, Soulless Shadow, 1girlhousefan, 3 Vandoran, The Hollow Soul, lloydbunyan101, dragonman111, Varen6398, VanHellsin24, ACW0, god of insatily, Derith Raxonus, Dart Ichimonji and me.

Thank you all for realizing dragonman66 is the best choice for mayor!

IN other news the remaining 370000 waves are quickly disappearing let's get rid of all of them

Now to Kinzvlle!

quote:

Kinz:
HIS IS A TDDLND BREAKING NEWS CAST! We have reached a 100 percent! The challenge has been won
spoiler:

A portal to the plane of fire was opened. Wargoth poised Fiamme the avatar of fire! Warlic is still missing and now so is Xan! Though he was last seen beating up imps.

Well that`s all till next war!


< Message edited by dragonman66 -- 7/12/2012 21:58:11 >
DF AQW Epic  Post #: 2
4/13/2012 21:17:30   
Faerdin
Rune Knight


Untapped Rage
(April Friday the 13th: Rift War)

Drums of war pound in rhythm with the minds,
The hearts burning bright with an untapped rage.
Guardian and Atealan might combines,
Putting out the fire of the Blue Mage!
Homes, ancient and new, all crumble to dust
As treacherous demons cleave at our hearts.
Wake up, my friends! Uniting is a must
To stop them before Apocalypse starts!
The conqueror of worlds and dimensions
Looms over our land like a darkened storm,
Ready to claim his burning redemption!
Even if those minions of fire swarm,
We cannot, we will not ever back down.
It's time to usurp the infernal crown!
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 3
4/14/2012 22:53:39   
Mordred
Member

A darkened shadow flew over the dunes of the Sandsea, visible from below for precious, fleeting seconds. Indistinct in form, it traveled through the air away from a sky that grew lighter as dawn approached. So fast did it cleave its way that when it drew close to the sands below, the air disturbance of its wake kicked up the fine grains violently. As the shadow arced over the top of a particularly high mound of sand, a floating city came into view. It was enveloped by its own night sky, and even had a miniature moon overhead. On the shores of the lack below, signs of struggle could be seen as the defenders of Atrea fought off infernal creatures that poured out of otherworldly portals.

The shadow put forth a greater burst of speed as it sensed dawn’s approach, hoping to dive into the safety of Atrea’s magical night sky. As it drew closer and closer to asylum, the shadow’s form grew more corporeal. Witnesses claim to see the darkness part from the creature to show the pale face of a blond-haired man. The shadowy form dove into Atrea without a sound, and made impact by the obelisk where Isiri tended to Veyla and her confinement spell. The two looked up, startled, so see a man kneeling in the open square, wisps of darkness rising from him like smoke. His face was pale, deathly so, and his locks were a glorious golden blond, falling down slightly below his shoulders like a regal made and concealing half of his face. The one eye they could see was a cold grey color. He wore dark black and crimson clothing; a richly adorned vest, from under which was a bright red shirt with silk hanging from the cuffs, and crisp, tidy pants on his legs. On his feet were pointed, black shoes, as if for tapdancing. On his hands were white gloves as pale as his skin, and hanging on his shoulder was a rich, black cloak, tied by a golden chain resting upon his white cravat.

The man rose to his feet slowly, and flashing a smile with very large canines, said in an elegant European accent: “Good morning, ladies.” The Atealans stood still, too shocked to move. “Now, I’ve had a rather long flight here, narrowly avoiding the sun-a problem I’ve heard you’re no strangers to-, and require a good long rest. Or a nice soak in fresh blood. I don’t think you have any to spare, though.” The vampire looked first at Veyla, then Isiri, hoping for a response. “Oh!” he called out suddenly, as if remembering something. “My, how I’ve forgotten my manners! Count Beaumont, at your service; how may assist you with your infernal infestation?”


When the two Atealans finally recovered from their shock, they realized the vampire was there to aid them in fighting of Wargoth’s army, and not to feast on their blood, or “something as crass as that,” as Beaumont had put it. He was a prominent vampire from deep in Darkovia; mostly keeping to himself, drinking only enough blood to sustain himself, rather than to kill. When Wargoth’s army began to invade, he felt the elemental disturbance, but paid no heed the first time. When a stronger rippled reached him, he set off at once, knowing that the last time was a major war.

The guards were slightly more difficult to convince, though, so the savvy vampire had no choice but to use his charms to brainwash them a little bit. Only enough to convince them he was an ally. A young Atealan boy watching the affair smirked as he noted “These are not the droids you are looking for.” As soon as he secured his stay in the city, he retreated towards the inn, where he slept soundly as the oppressive sun rose in the sky, preventing him from aiding the foreign beings yet.

The vampire quickly became the talk of the city. When he later awoke just as the sun began to set and began to roam about the streets, he heard whispers. “How will he be fed? Won’t he go berserk without blood in time?” “I bet he’ll begin bleeding us try within a few nights. Just you see.” “A man doesn’t come literally out of nowhere like that and offer his help. He must be up to something.” This last statement was… partly true. Lately, the long-lived vampire began to feel… dissatisfied. He’d seen most of what Darkovia and the nearby region had to offer. He had lost sight of a reason to continue to feed and live. A cause greater than himself. And he was on the cusp of something big, something huge. Demons began to invade Lore, and shortly after a rather notable hero disappeared? It was far too much of a coincidence. Some grand machine was revving up for something big; his animalistic instincts could feel it. Now, he was beginning to find a reason to continue. He strove for the Truth.

As the Count reached the outer perimeter of the city, intending to leap down and join the fray now that the light was no longer a hazard, he was stopped by a group of Guardians from Falconreach. “Halt, monster!” one of them, presumably the leader, called out.

Beaumont’s grey eyes rolled in his head. “Good evening, Guardians,” he replied with almost sarcastic civility, gesturing with his hand and bowing as he did so. “That was a fine welcome, might I add.”

“We want you out of here,” the leader said, ignoring the vampire’s cordiality. “My men don’t like the thought of fighting beside the likes of you.”

“Hmmm, it really does seem I was wrong,” the vampire began. “You humans really do seem to stride backwards in common sense.”

At this, the commander began to raise his barbed blade in anger. Before it was raised above his head, though, another Guardian held his arm back. “Kain, sir, you don’t want to do this,” he advised, struggling to hold onto his leader’s arm. “It’s not a fight you’d win.”

Kain gruffly broke free of his soldier’s grasp, but willingly stayed his blade… for now. “I’ll say it again; leave.”

“You, sir-Kain, was it?-have no control over my actions. I wish neither you nor your men any harm, but should I be threatened, I will retaliate, and it shan’t be pretty.” As the Count said this, his eyes flashed red briefly, and his pupils became cat-like slits in that instant.

“If your teeth find their way into a human neck…” Guardian Kain threatened, a vein on his neck throbbing. He did not finish his sentence, but stormed off towards his headquarters in the city’s center, his Guardians in tow.

Pleased by this, the creature of the night leapt over the edge of the city, shadows and wisps of darkness enveloping his lithe form as he fell…

Beaumont alighted in the sand without a whisper of a sound, the shadows around his body dissipating as he did. He was behind the portals, so as to attack from behind and thus avoid unnecessary confrontations with Atrea’s defenders. People didn’t take too kindly to his kind. For this reason he was stalking his prey far away from the frontlines. Even as he slowly strode through the still-warm sand, he could see the portals below him, with their infernal armies emerging seemingly endlessly.

“Let’s partake in some good old fashioned fun with this,” the vampire said sadistically, a savage, toothy grin on his pale visage of a face, his visible grey eye gleaming in his excitement. Black markings suddenly came into being on the fabric of his gloves in the form of pentagrams with strange phrases written in the spidery language of the undead around the points of the star. The symbols began to glow a cold blue around the edges as the count leaned forward. The sand below his feet were covered by a sheet of solid ice by his magic, and a trail of ice began to snake its way over the dunes, leading straight into the lines of the infernals.

Just as the ice was newly formed, Beaumont was sliding across its surface, propelled by an unseen force at a breakneck pace. In his wake, spikes and thorns of ice rose out of the trail and sand, leaving a path difficult to tread. But, just like the shadow-creature, it would be gone by morning, reduced to a memory of a puddle long-lost to the ever thirsty sands. That night, the dunes would greedily quench their thirst with the hot blood of demons.

The Count dashed past a large, hornet-like insect, slicing through its thorax with a hand covered in a sheet of ice. The other infernals blinked in surprise as its body exploded for seemingly no reason. Only the golems wielding barbed blades of Fire could comprehend what had happened, for they took notice of the ice trail left in the creature’s wake. Growling savagely, they took up their weapons, challenging the assailant to come out and fight.

“I smell weakness…” one of them hissed angrily. “You there, worm!” it cried out, pointing towards a red, goblin-like creature with a hat. “Be on your guard; this goes for all of you pathetic, lowly creatures!” Suddenly alert, all of the infernals grew cautions; they were lighter on their feet, and casting glances all about. They were waiting for their invisible foe to confront them. However, more creatures of Wargoth’s armies were emerging into Lore, and found their selves being held up by this group of infernals who would not move and risk compromising their positions.

“What’s the holdup over here?” another golem of ash cried out harshly as it confronted a fellow golem. “Why are you holding up the line?”

“There’s fresh blood to be spilt here,” another golem replied, a grim pleasure in its unearthly voice. Hearing this, the arriving infernals joined in on the wait, and they did not have to wait for long. Out of the gloom of the darkness came shards of ice, hurled through the air at several infernals, who collapsed into motionless heaps of limbs and bodies almost immediately.

“Grah, where are you?” an Ashen Squire cried out in fury as an imp ran off into the murk, laughing as its flames lit up the night. Before it got far, though, it was fully encased in ice as a heavy mist fell upon it from the silhouette of a man. “There you are!” the golem called out triumphantly, raising its blade as it rushed in for the kill.

Just as the blade began to fall upon the man’s darkened form, the vampire sidestepped within the blink of an eye, easily dodging the blow. Before the infernal golem could cry out in fury, a spike of solid ice emerged from the sand, and the golem’s own momentum impaled it, ending whatever artificial life it had possessed.

The creature of the night strode unfazed towards the line of infernals, bloodlust in his eye. As soon as they caught sight of him in the darkness, a group of about a dozen imps rushed at their foe, laughing madly as they ran with flames in hand. They did not get very far before the sand was frozen over, and their feet restrained by ice. When they found they could not move, the imps blinked stupidly, unable to comprehend this twist of events. Before it dawned on them that they could use their Fire magics to free their selves, shards of ice flew from the vampire’s fingertips, striking with lethal accuracy.

Just as those demons were downed, however, the flaming beetles and large wasp-like creatures challenged Beaumont, closing in on him with mandibles flexing hungrily and wings stirring every few moments. Flashing his inhuman teeth, the Count focused pure Cold elemental energies in his hand, creating a whip out of the element commonly known as Ice that had a temperature of Absolute Zero. He flicked the whip idly in the air as he drew closer to his prey cautiously. Then, without warning, he lashed out with the whip, slicing the head off of one of the wasps in one clean blow. He then changed his momentum, sending the whip down upon a beetle, crushing its thick exoskeleton and sending its oily juices flying.

The vampire almost danced about with his lethal whip, slaying infernals with ease. As soon as one was downed, another would emerge to take its place. Through the night the combatants danced, a ring of bodies forming a sort of dancing stage for the immortal monster as they were felled. With a mix of magic and a flick of his whip, Beaumont was able to hold a large portion of the line streaming from this portal back from the city, until he could feel the dawn approaching. As the sky began to lighten, and the stars fad, the vampire took flight, retreating into the safety of Atrea, leaving behind what looked like a heartless massacre of demons in the desert.


Count Beaumont von Blutseele followed an almost rigid schedule of sleep in the day and slaughter in the night, refraining from feeding on any blood as the days passed, for his hunger amplified his powers, even as they dulled his sharp mind. Five days of warfare had passed since he arrived, and the infernals were just as persistent as ever, pouring out endlessly despite all efforts.

It was on the sixth night, when Beaumont’s powers were nearly at their zenith from starvation, that this schedule was changed. The vampire alighted down near the shore of the lake for a change, so as to admire the reflection of the moon in the still water before he engaged in his nocturnal activities. He resolved that on this night, he would have to feed on the blood of an imp, or else risk going into a frenzy within the city. As he grimaced at the thought, he heard the distinct noise of a gun’s hammer being pulled back from behind him. Driven by instinct, he whirled about and stepped to the side just as three silver bullets bathed in water blessed with Light magic whizzed through the air where he had stood only milliseconds before.

Standing before the Count were two men; one in heavy full plate armor, trimmed in gold and carrying wards against Darkness, and a hefty halberd with two blades rather than the traditional one in his hands; another in the black leather garb of the Shadowslayers, with a smoking gun in hand.

“Ah, you do not fail to disappoint,” the Shadowslayer said in a suave voice as he lowered his gun. “I feared it would have been far easier than your repertoire would suggest.” His voice had an almost musical trill to it, suggesting either magical charms to disarm foes and woo women, or merely an exotic voice.

“Repertoire, you say?” the vampire replied in kind. “So, then, you know of me.”

“Lord of the Night,” the paladin began to breathe from under his helmet in a muffled voice with vehemence, “the Blood Walker, Demon of the Cold, ShadowStalker, MistWeaver, you have many foul names, vampyre. Each more chilling and hair-raising than the last. You may claim to keep to yourself in your estate, but I know your history. You were not always so indifferent to mankind.”

In what remained of his heart, the creature felt a twinge of regret, but it was fleeting. “You do seem quite familiar with me, then,” Beaumont said in a cold voice, his eye gleaming as a savage smile split his face. “Then you both know that you’ll die this night?”
Without hesitation, the paladin leapt forth, brandishing his weapon and bringing it down on the smaller, lithe man’s form. There was a strange thud noise as the Count intercepted the handle of the weapon with a single hand, holding back the savage blow without the slightest hint of effort. The paladin grimaced from under his helmet as he started into his foe’s unblinking eye and twisted visage, trying to overcome his supernatural strength. However, he did not need to as the ShadowSlayer fired off a round into the vampire’s arm, distracting his efforts with a flash of pain. The halberd twisted to the side and fell solidly into the sand, barley missing its target’s shoulder.

Enraged, the supernatural creature grasped the pauldron of the paladin’s armor in his left hand as he released his magics, sending a cold wave down the metal plating and effectively freezing the warrior of Light’s arm. With his wounded right arm, bleeding a slow-flowing, incredibly dark blood, he punched the paladin’s breastplate solidly, sending the man reeling back without a weapon in hand. With the paladin temporarily dealt with, he turned his attention to the ShadowSlayer, who was drawing out an enchanted sword has he began to raise his gun once more. Just as he fired, Beaumont summoned up a wall of solid ice, several inches thick, stopping the bullets mere millimeters from piercing clean through the sheet of ice. Before the human could react, blasts of Cold energy disarmed him and froze his hands, while a sheet of ice trailed along the floor and froze his feet without warning, leaving him flailing.

The vampire turned around to see the paladin had freed his arm and reclaimed his weapon, now coming in with a furious assault. The Count easily dodged the first few swipes of the axe, but the paladin suddenly changed tactics without warning, sending out a beam of Light from his palm upon the vampire, sending a burning sensation all over his body, and an especial pain in the wound on his arm. Shadows enveloped his form as he darted with inhuman speed into the water of the lake, which froze over as soon as he dived into its depths.

The paladin, with light in one hand and his axe in the other, began to cautiously tread across the ice, peering down to try to detect his foe underneath it. “Stop, you fool!” the ShadowSlayer cried out in vain to his ally, who did not heed him. As the paladin drew closer to the center of the lake, a gloved hand, now with claws tearing through the fingertips, began to reach up through the ice as if it weren’t even there, following the warrior’s heavy footsteps with increasing speed as it rose higher. Then, in a flash of dark clothes, Beaumont burst through the surface of the ice, unbroken thanks to his curious magics. He grabbed the paladin by the neck with his clawed hands and easily dragged him under the ice, again causing no harm. Even from afar, the ShadowSlayer could hear the muffled screams of his companion in the water, until all was silent.

While this had been going on, the suave slayer of dark creatures had been struggling against the ice that restrained him, and managed to break free and reclaim his weapons as Beaumont came out of the lake once more, striding to his solitary foe as a lion stalks its prey. Stricken with fear, the ShadowSlayer fired round after round into the vampire’s body, drawing more and more blood with each hit. After several rounds, the Count began to fall to his knees, seemingly unable to overcome his injuries.

“Hah, this is the mighty Beaumont von Blutseele?” the man cried out with confidence as he strode closer to his foe’s injured form, firing a round into him with each step. “You may have been one to the greatest vampires to walk upon the surface of Lore, but even you are no match for my Hydra!” The hunter of nighthunters was referring to his gun, which had three barrels for firing three bullets at a time. It had been crafted specially for Beaumont, taking his great powers into mind. “You are powerless before me!” the human continued, almost raving. “I, who have vanquished you, shall become Darkovian legend! Even Safiria will have fear of me in the recesses of her monstrous heart!”

The vampire’s body suddenly flared up, surrounded by a mass of shadows which sent him higher and higher, until Beaumont towered a full twenty feet over the ShadowSlayer, only his upper body and face visible in a mass of swirling Darkness. The cowering man continued to fire of his rounds, to no avail. “What is it, puny mortal?” the Count cried out in a truly savage voice, no longer his own. “I thought you had vanquished me! Why don’t you end it right now?” The leather-clad man could only throw down his weapon and begin to scramble in the sand for safety. “Come on, finish me!” the dark creature goaded. “FINISH ME!!” Tentacles of Darkness emerged from the shadowy mass of the vampire, grasping the fleeing prey by the legs. He struggled at first, so much that in fury, Beaumont tore off the man’s leg at the knee. At the sight of the spurting blood, the vampire’s eyes turned red, and his pupils became cat-like slits. Unable to hold back any longer, he descended down upon the mortal, the sounds of screaming filling the Sandsea air as the creature fed to its content.


“Explain yourself,” Guardian Kain said sternly as he motioned towards the ragged, torn remains of a once luxurious leather jacket. Sitting atop the shreds was the pointed, wide-brimmed had the ShadowSlayer had worn, strangely intact.

“Whatever do you mean?” von Blutseele said with agitation. He had been sleeping in his uncomfortable bed in the inn(while comfortable by most standards, the Count was suited to sleeping in his coffin) when Guardians had roughly woken him and dragged him towards Kain’s headquarters, despite his resistance.

This is what we didn’t bury of the man found by the lake,” the Guardian seethed, grasping the edge of his make-shift war table in an iron grip. So overcome with emotion was he that the wood was snapping and crunching between his armored fingers. “His… remains were completely drained of blood. You try explaining to or showing me how you aren’t responsible for this!” When he had said “remains,” Beaumont couldn’t help but mutter “leftovers” under his breath.

The vampire suddenly grew indignant, his eye smoldering with anger like a hot coal. “Are you insinuating that I fed upon an ‘innocent’ man?”

“Oh, I’ll do more than insinuate!”

“You assume this man was innocent without even hearing me out. I was on my way to assist in holding back Wargoth’s minions when this impudent ShadowSlayer and his lout of a companion attempted to slay me. I acted almost purely in self-defense.”

Kain was overcome by a bout of rage at this response. He flipped over the table with its map and troops and strategies as he made incoherent attempts to speak. After fuming like this for a few moments, he stomped over to Beaumont, shoving his finger into his pale face. “You are a monster; a blood-sucking, murderous monster! You have no self-defense! We can’t even find what’s left of the paladin; we only have his armor! You should have been destroyed, not those men!”

The Count was as unmoving as stone as Kain almost literally barked in his face. He was a good few inches taller than the human, so he was looking down upon his display of hatred and anger. He took a deep intake of breath through his nose and exhaled loudly, showing his displeasure with the Guardian’s outburst. While the stench of his inhuman breath made the human’s eyes water, he turned around sharply, attempting to make his exit into the city square.

“Where do you think you-“ the commander barked back, only to be cowed into silence as he stared down the three barrels of the Hydra, now pointed directly at his face. The vampire had taken a liking to its design and lethality, and took it up as his own to modify upon his return to his estate.

“I don’t answer to you, or anybody else. Including Safiria,” von Blutseele said with a chillingly cold voice that made Kain’s spine tingle. “I will be leaving this room unharmed, and will continue in my usual nocturnal activities of late tonight, despite what has just occurred. Should you or any of your men or women try to stop me in any way, I will take action.” He began to leave once more, before a thought came upon him and stopped him in his tracks. He quickly darted past Kain and snatched up the leather hat, placing it atop his head as his shadowy form darted through the door within a blink of the eye.


An ice shard flew through the night air, embedding itself within the red face of a thin kilhoh golem and downing it in a single blow. Beaumont came forth, kicking the remains of the golem aside as he walked on. Behind him were some Atealans and a human knight of the Pactogonal Table known as Sir Mordred. The vampire was altogether not opposed to the young man he had very quickly accepted the monster as an ally in this war.

“That appears to be the last of them…” the vampire called out to his companions, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“I think you should look again…” Mordred said warily as he raised his visor with one hand and pointed into the distance with another. The Count cast his gaze over to see another rift forming, this one much larger than the last. “It’s so huge…” the knight murmured as he replaced his visor. “It’s going to be a big one all right…”

They watched in awe as the massive rift formed, and in its depths they could see nothing but blames. “Wait, that’s not Somorah…” one of the Atealans said in confusion.

“Well, if it’s not Somorah, then where is it?” the knight questioned, hesitation in his voice.

“It’s your Elemental Plane of Fire,” the Atealan replied. It was then the rift belched out a wave of flames as it closed. It its place was a pillar of fire that burned brightly and slowly died down to reveal a feminine elemental.

“Is that?” Mordred began.

“Fiamme…” Beaumont muttered under his breath as he pulled the brim of his new hat down over his eyes. “This demon is powerful indeed if he can hold the Elemental Avatar of Fire under his sway.”

The Pactogonal Knight unfurled his rich purple cloak away from him, revealing his shining armor. A spear suddenly materialized in his hand in a flash of white light. It was rather simplistic, with a three-foot long shaft of metal topped with a broad head with wicked barbs and flanges on its edges. Hanging on the shaft just below the head was a large black feather, purportedly a good-luck charm from a friend of the knight. It was far too large to be from any birds or feathered creatures von Blutseele was familiar with, and he had seen a good many different birds in his long life.

“We have no choice but to fight, then,” the knight stated as he sank the shaft of his spear into the sand. “Hopefully, if we can manage to defeat her, Wargoth’s hold over her will break, just as Veyla’s was broken.”

“This is an Elemental Avatar,” the vampire said as he wagged his finger. “The chances of victory are slim to none.”

“We have to try, regardless,” Mordred insisted, folding his arms. “If we don’t, she’ll be ‘free’ to wreak havoc for Wargoth. I’ll go in with my spear, while you take her on from afar. Together, we could pull this off, depending on how strong his hold on her is.”

Before the Count could protest, Mordred was off, spear in hand and his cloak trailing behind him. The creature of the night sighed heavily as he pulled out his new Hydra, which he had rechristened the Typhon. The gun had been slightly altered in that the bullets it fired off were now cursed with a spell that made them home in one targets and hit multiple times before returning to the chamber of the gun, rather than being blessed with Light magic. It wasn’t quite yet his weapon, but it was getting there.

Gun in hand, the vampire dashed towards the Avatar at a superhuman speed, kicking up sand in his wake. The knight was still charging at his foe, his spear thrust forward for the strike. The possessed Fiamme failed to notice him as he drew near; she was too busy reducing the dunes of the Sandsea into an inferno. Just when the spear was about to embed itself into her body, she whirled around, a wall of fire slamming into Sir Mordred and sending his spear to the ground. He ignored the burning pain of being engulfed in fire and shot a small bolt of lightning out of his hand, striking Fiamme on her shoulder and forcing her to lose focus over her flames. While she backed out of his reach, the knight reclaimed his spear and took up a defensive stance.

It was then that Beaumont was within range of his target, away from the fray and atop the surrounding dunes. With Typhon in his right hand and a glowing orb of Ice magic in his right, he began to assail his foe from afar. A barrage of bullets guided by dark magic and projectiles of Cold pelted the Avatar from afar, attracting her attention. She looked up, gazing at her new foe with a fire in her eyes that was not her own. She responded in kind, sending her own barrage of magics at him He was too fast, though, and dashed off to the side while drawing nearer, firing off his own magics as he did so. Typhon was out of ammunition for the moment, and until he heard the distinctive click of his bullets returning to their chambers, he would have to rely on himself.

If only I hadn’t fed last night… Beamont thought to himself as flames licked at his heels. I’m too weak to try to finish this in one blow… Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mordred coming in with his spear once more. It was now crackling with Energy as blue bolts of power coursed through its metal, lending to its already lethal power. With Fiamme focused on von Blutseele, the knight was able to come in closer, and was slashing at her elemental form with the head of his spear. She cried out with agony as it ripped through her body, but the wounds it caused were quickly healed, for her body was comprised of pure Fire.

The Avatar screamed with rage as she turned on Mordred. Gouts of flame erupted from her hands and bathed the knight in an inferno, leaving him barely protected by his magical purple cloak, which he used as a shield. He shied away from her as he held up his cloak defensively, avoiding getting singed as best as he could. Fiamme say that his cloak was capable of holding off her flames like that, so instead began to gather up all of her energy into her right hand, aiming to fry him with one blow his cloak couldn’t possibly protect against.

The vampire saw the peril his ally was in and rushed to his rescue, darting between the flames that still dotted the desert landscape. Just as Fiamme felt the energy was satisfactory, the undead Count was grasping her right hand in his left, pushing as much Cold energy into her as he could while he confronted her. Face-to-face with the vampire, the possessed Avatar let out an animalistic shriek, before speaking in a deep, rumbling voice that was not her own.

“Why do you resist, pathetic man?” Wargoth sneered through his minion. “I have power enough to crush you should we meet face to face.”

“I need… something to fight for,” the vampire replied as he winced at the pain of grasping and trying to contain Fiamme’s magic.

“Then know that I fight for something far greater than you ever could,” the warlord said with Fiamme’s mouth. “He is coming. I prepare now for the fight that looms even now.”

“Who is coming?” the Count questioned as he cried out with pain. The flames were almost too much for his cold plod, and he could feel himself falling to one knee before his foe.

“You’ll never know, for you die this day!” Fiamme put forth another burst of magic through her arm, increasing the pain Beaumont was feeling even more. She grinned as she sensed victory was nigh, and pressed ever harder against her foe.

The vampire put forth a final effort against his foe, this time pouring Darkness as well as Ice energy through his hand, almost crushing Fiamme’s hand in his inhuman grip. Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, his combined powers pushed back the Avatar’s strength, and began to extinguish the flames of her arm. Eyes widened, the possessed elemental said with a snarl “If you won’t die, then I’ll leave you with a parting gift…” Just as the vampire felt he could do no more, his foe fell to her knees, her body only glowing warmly and the fire in her eyes extinguished. Unable to hold on anymore, von Blutseele released his grip on her hand as he felt his consciousness fading. As he fell backwards, he saw Sir Mordred come to his side, and Fiamme gaze shamefully at his left hand with eyes that were now her own. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the Atealans rush towards him as they cried out his name. Then, all was black…


Beaumont awoke to find himself in the makeshift infirmary that had been set up in the opera house of Atrea. He was in a soft white bed, which he still found to be uncomfortable. He tried to get up, only to hear a voice from his side say “Easy there… You need time to recover.” The vampire sat himself up, with his hands folded on his lap underneath the white covers, despite the voice cautioning against it. He looked over to his left, where the voice had come from, to see Mordred there, garbed in his armor, but without his helm and missing a gauntlet. His hand was wrapped up to staunch what looked like severe bleeding.

“I’d like to, ah, um, well…” the knight began awkwardly, scratching his head as he thought of how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Thanks,” he said finally, bobbing his head with its short-cut, brown hair with satisfaction.

“For what?” the vampire questioned, a tad confused.

“For, well, ah, you know…” Mordred said, flustered. “Saving my life and all.” He had an embarrassed expression on his face; a knight does not enjoy admitting he owes his life to another man.

“Oh, that,” the Count said wistfully, remembering what had happened. “It was no big deal.”

“Welcome back to the land of the unliving,” another man’s voice said from Beaumont’s right. Surprised, von Blutseele turned to see Kain sitting upon another bed, also without his helmet and a gauntlet, with his exposed hand also bandaged.

“Guardian Kain,” the vampire said in surprise with a barest hint of hostility in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

The Guardian looked down at a spot between his feet, either in thought or in a state of regret. “I-I came to make sure you were okay,” he said sheepishly. “I-I saw what you did from the lookout tower, and got details from Sir Mordred and Isiri.”

“That’s… kind of you,” the Count said with surprise and kindness in his voice.

“I’d… I’d also like to apologize,” the Guardian continued, looking up into Beaumont’s grey eye.
“I-I was out of line when we last met. I didn’t… didn’t mean what I said. I’ve hated vampires ever since… Well, I-I’ve hated vampires. A-and I held that against you. It-It was wrong of me. After what y-you did the other day, I could-couldn’t admit as a Guardian that you weren’t an ally. M-most men, my-myself included, wouldn’t have been able to do… To do what you did that day. So, I’m-“

“Apology accepted,” the monster replied matter-of-factly.

Guardian Kain was dumbfounded. “Er, well… I didn’t… Didn’t think you’d forgive me so-so quickly.”

“We vampires can’t afford to hold grudged. We live a long time. And… And I need to apologize as well. I certainly wasn’t very friendly towards you, or your men.”

Kain simply nodded his head dumbly a few times, before leaping up from the bed. “Good… good talk,” he said somewhat awkwardly before taking his leave. The vampire was left with a slight grin on his face over these events.

Beaumont turned back to Mordred, who had been looking about the room as the two men had talked to one another. “So… What’s with the bandages you two have?” he questioned the knight, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, some of us decided we could take a little prick to the hand and pool up some blood for ya,” the young man replied as he rubbed his wrapped hand. “We knew you need it to heal up. “

“Thank you,” the vampire said, genuine gratitude in his voice. “This was your idea?”

“No, no actually. It was all Kain’s.”

The monster was left dumbfounded by this statement. Inside his feeling for the human defender had changed. He didn’t like him, but he had a newfound respect for him. “I truly do need to thank that man.”

“Hmmm… Isiri will be in soon with a fresh batch some Guardians donated. She’ll be glad to see you can drink it without help this time.”

The vampire then pulled his hands out from under the covers, to see if he could lift something to his lips like this. He gazed down with horror upon his left hand; the skin was blackened and scarred almost all the way up to his elbow, and on the outside of his hand was a glowing red mark that seemed to warm his entire arm. It was not withered up, and it could still feel sensation, for his vampiric nature had healed it of the actual damage it had caused. However, it could not heal the scar left behind, nor could it make that strange, glowing red marking on his hand.

“Nirios says that’s the mark of Wargoth,” Mordred said apprehensively. “You’re lucky to be around; Fiamme said she had weakened her own powers, and that when Wargoth realized you could overcome them, he decided to leave his mark.”


With Atrea safe, Count Beaumont von Blutseele returned to his estate in Darkovia as soon as the Atealans would allow him to leave their care. In his estate, he worked upon the Typhon and a gauntlet for his scarred, marked hand. The gun was now crafted out of blackened metal, and the special bullets the vampire carried could not only strike many times and return to his gun to be fired once more, but also drained their victims of their stamina and gave it to the gunman, strengthening him as they grew weaker.

The Count was standing atop the battlements of his castle, gazing up into the full moon as his cloak trailed in the wind. His appearance was unchanged, except for the leather hat and the gauntlet that he now worse in lieu of his former glove on his left hand. It was crafted from darkened gold, and segmented to allow full mobility. The fingers were fashioned in the likeness of claws, and when balled into a fist, the knuckles and joints of his fingers would each be a savage spike. The fabric underneath was of black leather, which also kept it clasped on his arm. On the outside of his hand burned that bright red mark of Wargoth, glowing just as brightly on the metal as it did on his scarred hand.


< Message edited by Mordred -- 4/23/2012 14:17:28 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 4
4/14/2012 23:15:32   
Cataclysm
The fanciest of moustaches


If you want to direct specific commentary towards my story, I would greatly appreciate doing it here, in my Chronicles of Cataclysm discussion thread.

Wargoth Approaches


Cataclysm had returned from his extra-chronolinear activities a few weeks prior, with Ulthair in tow. The two sat in Yulgar’s Inn, discussing how to further Ulthair’s training. Since regaling his new pupil of his origins, he had taken to teaching the young SoulWeaver how to better engage in combat. Ulthair showed much promise to Cataclysm, and he was unwilling to waste that potential.

“I don’t think I’m being unfair,” Cataclysm said. “I’m simply giving you the same training Blackhawke gave me.”

“But Blackhawke put you through training Stragoth would consider a brutal punishment in Heck! Isn’t it a bit much?” Ulthair replied.

“Hardly. You have already experienced war and built yourself up some. I’d been around for a matter of weeks as an adult. You should be far better equipped initially than I was.”

“Yes, but -” Ulthair began. He was abruptly cut off by a large, imposing figure appearing in the doorway. The menace he gave off by virtue of his armor exposed to Cataclysm who he was immediately.

“Daray,” Cataclysm intoned. “I presume this means something is happening back in Falconreach?”

“You would be correct. Once more, a war beckons us. A mighty Fire mage threatens to conquer us and destroy the remaining Atealeans.”

“Atealeans? What are they? I’ve never heard of such…”

“They come from another world entirely. Not such a distance as ours to yours – that requires dimensional travel. Theirs is merely interstellar.”

“The threat must be great for you to risk using Chronomancy to request our assistance.”

“Great, indeed. The future of our world rests on the balance of this war. Though the enemy is not as numerous as in our last request for your assistance, the enemy is a threat of the same caliber. Will you lend us your strength, mighty Warrior, Scourge of the Battlefield?”

A grin spread across Cataclysm’s face. “And miss a war? Not a chance.” He turned to Ulthair. “Grab your gear, SoulWeaver. We leave now.”

“Does this mean no more training?” Ulthair asked cheerily.

“Not training – true combat experience. The training will resume when we return.”

Ulthair’s visage went from giddy to crestfallen in a heartbeat. Cataclysm missed the change, however, as he got up to turn to his home to grab his gear.

“Where are you headed, Warrior?” Daray asked.

“I’m not allowed to bring anything from this timeline not simultaneously present in that one, I had thought.”

“We’re making an exception. We were worried about shredding the timeline beforehand, but what with you meeting yourself in an alternative timeline…” Daray’s gaze, though not visible through his helmet, chilled Cataclysm. “We’re well beyond worrying about anything that petty. Bring what you are most comfortable using. It should make things simpler for you.”

Cataclysm punched the table, the plate gauntlet denting the wood. He rolled his wrist and cracked his knuckles. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

The odd assortment of DoomKnight, SoulWeaver, and Warrior made way for Greenguard Forest, towards the temporal rift the Chronomancers of Falconreach had established. War harkened from Falconreach.
The War Begins


Daray led the duo into the center of Falconreach where the war camp was established. It was much the same as it had been those few weeks ago when Cataclysm had shown up, dropped off in a strange timeline for the first time. Hushed whispers crossed the camp in a matter of seconds, the quiet murmurs of speculation.

“Cataclysm…” “Ulthair…” “back…” The whisperings were always followed by subdued, shocked glances in their direction. No one was blatantly staring.

No one, that is, except a group of assorted soldiers, 19 in enumeration, waiting next to Sloane and Adair as Guardian and DragonLord planned their war strategies..

“Aaaaaaye!” one of the Rogues in the group called out. He waved wildly. “Yer back! Ben awhile, eh? We ben missin’ yah.”

Cataclysm and Ulthair both waved back at the man. The entire group had broad grins on their faces.

“Looks like the gang’s all here, huh?” Cataclysm mused.

“It’s amazing to think, but it’s true. The entire 84th Squadron. Most of the time, mercenaries won’t show back up for a couple wars. These guys have been present every time, fighting tooth and nail. Somehow, they’ve still yet to suffer a casualty, quite the feat. Injuries abound, but it seems as if your mere existence in their lives has granted them some kind of ward against Death.”

“Where’d you get that fancy blade?” Kennith, the rookie Paladin from before, asked.

“Oh, this?” Cataclysm drew his blade, exposing the full two-meter ebony length of blade. “This is my personal weapon. Brought it from back home. How’ve you been doing, Kennith?”

“I’ve trained every day to get stronger. We all have been. Well, except Ralph and Leif over there. They’ve done some training, but they were working more on figuring out how to best use the Rogue skills to prank people.”

“Aww shucks man,” Ralph said. “Guy gotta ‘ave some fun, aye? Sommin’ to dat ‘fect.”

“Ralph…” Cataclysm sighed, shaking his head like a concerned parent. “What’s done is done. And what we need to get done now is this war. There’s a lot of Fire elementals out there and they want to wreck this world. My Lore or not, I’m not going to allow that to happen.”

Adair and Sloane had taken a brief time away from planning to watch the reunion. Cataclysm caught their gaze. “Where are we being sent to this time?”

“This war isn’t nearly as large scale as the last war you were here. Additionally, the enemies are only coming out of one concentrated region, meaning we only have one front. Rather than fighting in sectors, as we had before, we are in one large front,” Sloane said.

“Right, but we are still broken up into squads for better cohesiveness of groups. The squad leaders will be able to reach out to their squads for better coordination, and between myself, Sloane, and Daray, the three of us can contact the squad leaders if we need to direct our forces in a different manner,” Adair continued.

“So it’s more like the wars back home,” Cataclysm said. “Perfect. Just what I’m used to.” He turned to the 84th Squadron – his squadron – and gave just one command.

“Let’s roll, soldiers.”

The group followed the hulking Warrior and the SoulWeaver out to the battlefield.
***************

They all charged, unthinkingly, straight into the front lines, the midst of the battle. Their allies cheered when they saw the 84th had arrived. The prestige of the 84th had grown rapidly, and even without Cataclysm at their head, they were still renowned as a formidable fighting force. Their mere presence boosted morale.

When the nearby squads saw Cataclysm and Ulthair at the head, however, the cheers grew even louder as the forces pushed onward harder. Ulthair stepped right into the heat of it, Banishing imps left and right. Cataclysm did not hesitate either, his ebony blade rapidly growing darker as it was scorched by the flames the monsters held within. He cleaved several of the adorable imps with each great swing, their soft, squishy flame-filled bodies offering little resistance.

While the Paladins were out of their element fighting Fire elementals as opposed to their standard undead, they fought with great fervor, Kennith especially. He was all too aware of his near death experience in the heat of battle before, when Cataclysm had to save him. The plucky Paladin was determined to prove his worth.

Two of the Rogues fought swiftly, their daggers acting as extensions of their already agile arms, made all the more deadly by the sharp blade extending from their fingers. They grey of their knives blended with the leather of their gloves.

The other two Rogues were nowhere to be seen. In the heat of the battle, nobody noticed. Not even that the two were Leif and Ralph, the pranksters. They were off making their own preparations for the battle.

The Warriors and DragonWarriors alike were fighting to the best of their abilities, alongside the Paladins and Rogues. There was not a second that went by where a glint of metal was not quickly seen, then disappeared into the body of a Fire Elemental. Killhohs, Fire Imps, and Firebeetles alike all fell before the blades of the 84th at a record pace.

The Mages were not out of it. Zynox and Larinth both stood back, casting Ice magic at the elementals. Their casts were twofold. Though frequently shooting spears of ice the fiery foes, they would also conjure up a sturdy wall of ice to block a fire elemental’s incendiary offensives.

With the 84th’s arrival, especially the inclusion of Cataclysm and Ulthair, things sped up. The combination of the crack fighting team with the morale boost associated spurred the soldiers onward. Everywhere, puffs of smoke appeared as Imps were viscerated. There was no mercy, no matter how objectively cute the creatures may be.

Cataclysm led the charge onward. He left all others behind and intentionally drew the imp’s fire to himself, deftly dodging their attacks. The more time the Fire elementals wasted trying to kill him, the more time the others had to advance and the safer the rest of the army was. For most, the tactic would have been suicidal. For Cataclysm, the tactic was the norm.

He focused the Wind enchantment on the blade into a long, thin, sharp extension of the blade, increasing the blade’s length by about a half meter. The Imp corpses piled up around him as he hewn each one in half, an eruption of fire searing the air around him with each one he cut.

Ulthair was working nearby. Cataclysm had gotten quite far ahead of the army, but Ulthair, though still unable to keep up, had managed to advance similarly as his mentor. He fought with a brilliant mix of magic and might, impaling Imps who drew too near on his Spirit Looms, and striking down those at a distance with the spear-like Soul Threads. His aim was truer than any Ranger Cataclysm had ever known. All of his Soul Threads struck home, as if guided by unseen hands.

Both worked as hard as they could, their fervor completely enveloping them. The area around Cataclysm became a whir of midnight black as his blade cut down foes, the only other colors being seen the brilliant white of his hair and the crimson red as imps exploded. Ulthair was surrounded by a hypnotic blue, the hue shimmering as he wove the Soul Threads into weaponry and lashed out, his Spirit Looms luminescent.

They remained largely stationary, each piling up a mound of fallen foes all around them. It took some time, but the front lines eventually caught up, their goal the growing heaps of slain enemies their target. Ulthair had left the bodies piled up around him, forming a shelter out of those he had dispatched. The walls were steep enough that he required assistance getting out.

“Geeze, Ulthair, how’d you learn how to fight like that?” Isabelle, the DragonWarrior who had sustained an injury in Cataclysm’s first battle for Falconreach, asked.

“I’ve fought beside Cataclysm against Drakath and the Mysterious Stranger, and Cataclysm has been training me back in Battleon,” Ulthair replied. “I can tell you all about it later. But first, we have more pressing matters to tend to.” He gestured towards the advancing waves of imps.

“Right,” Isabelle said. She took up her fighting stance once more and leapt into the fray.

Ulthair sighted Cataclysm, already advancing through the horde and staking out his next spot to take a stand.

“You’re not leaving me behind that easily!” Ulthair yelled, leaping over Kennith and Tob, the Paladins. He was determined to keep up with his mentor.

The army warred on, pressing towards the portal from whence these creatures came, pressing on towards Wargoth.

In(ter)caption


The air before Cataclysm shimmered briefly, signaling a message coming through from the central command back in Falconreach. Cataclysm swiftly slew the surrounding imps and cast a quick Illusion spell, turning himself and the small area around him invisible to prevent the enemy from seeing the message.

“Cataclysm.” Daray’s voice spoke from the stabilizing image. “We’ve located the origins of these imps, thanks to some aerial reconnaissance from some of Adair’s DragonLords.” A map appeared, showing his present location and the target. “Our mages monitoring the field are also detecting some sharp spikes of energy from nearby the portals these imps are spewing out from. We want you to head up to the entryway and stop whatever is planning to come out – be it a beast of flames or Wargoth himself.”

“Ordinarily, we would refrain from having someone with your presence on the battlefield go on such a mission, but we are making exceptions here,” Adair said. “This existence attempting to come through the portal is vastly powerful and many of the troops we would ordinarily send would only find a swift path to Death’s Realm.”

Cataclysm nodded. He was there to do what no other person in Falconreach could do. “I’ll just grab Ulthair and –”

“No, no,” Sloane said, cutting him off. “To see the both of you disappear after only a few hours of fighting could potentially slow down the fighters and demoralize them. Besides that, who would lead your troops in your stead? Ulthair has to stay, and he has to lead. This is a fight for you, and for you alone, Cataclysm.”

Considering everything that was happening, Cataclysm had to give the gruff Guardian some credit. It was clear the three of them had thought this through.

“Alright, then. I’ll go. Scry these orders to Ulthair, as well. If he protests, tell him that I approved the orders. That aughta get him to listen to you.”

He waved his hand through the image, dismissing it, simultaneously canceling the invisibility Illusion magic. The enemies at his sides leapt back, startled. Before they recovered from their shock and launched an attack, Cataclysm glanced back and saw Ulthair being scryed, as well, undoubtedly receiving his orders.

An imp lunged onto Cataclysm’s back as he confirmed that Ulthair was getting the message. Cataclysm swung his massive midnight blade before him with his right hand, slicing several imps down, while reaching behind him with his left to grab the imp attempting to sear through his thick plate mail. When his fingers grasped the imp’s soft flesh, he squeezed tightly and ripped the imp from his back, the force of his grip making the imp bulge unnaturally. He brought the hilt of his blade abruptly against the creature’s head, bludgeoning it. The imp’s body went slack, and he cast it aside carelessly.

He raised his claymore and began carving a path towards the portals. Each swing dispatched more of the imps, their flames erupting as he bifurcated the Fire elementals. With both of his arms, he cut apart imp after imp, steadily advancing through the enemy. As they realized Cataclysm’s destination, the imps began to focus on trying to kill the huge warrior.

His progress became steadily more difficult as a result. Cataclysm’s blade was never stilled, constantly moving in a fluid motion. He traversed the battlefield smoothly, bringing death to the imps foolish enough to get near him. The blade, ever sharp, and sharpened further by the Wind that surrounded its ebony edge, cut through the imps effortlessly.

The killing was easy. The killing always was. It was staying alive that proved difficult.

As the number of imps killed grew, so too did the number of attacks Cataclysm had to dodge. Flames erupted all around him in the heat of battle. Imps took aim at him and attacked relentlessly. Some kamikaze rushed him, hoping to get near enough that when his blade struck them down, the flames that rushed forth would incinerate him. Others threw flames from afar, choosing a more self-preservational tactic. Either way, he was forced to evade searing magical fires.

In brief time, dodging the imp’s attacks became quick and easy as well. Through his eidetic memory, he already knew how wide a radius of fire the imps emitted upon being cut open. He quickly learned the way the imps threw their fireballs, as well. From the angle to the speed to the force, he could figure it all out. Dodging, too, became easy, allowing him to narrowly skirt death as he eliminated imp after imp at the edge of his blade.

A fireball screamed by his ear, the air crackling as magic shot flew past. Cataclysm knew which imp had thrown the shot and leapt over the heads of several other imps to land beside the assailant. Before the imp could react, he had run the creature through on the edge of his blade. He flicked the weapon to remove the carcass, ash and soot creating a faint black blade following his own obsidian sword.

Over in the distance, he could see the portal where he suspected Wargoth would exit. Imps continued to leave the portal, swiftly replacing the ones lost.

His destination in sight, Cataclysm continued slicing through the enemies, his pace accelerated. He began sprinting, the deep black of his weapon blurring into a black wall before him, as he sped up into a blur himself. Imps were exploding behind him rather than before him, now, his pace and slashing was so rapid. It did not take long before he stood before the portal.

The waiting game could not begin yet, however. First, he had to defend the position he had taken up until the enemy arrived. Cataclysm did not know when that would be. He could only hope it would be soon.

Orange and red covered the land for as far as his eye could see. He was surrounded entirely, with no easy way out.

Cataclysm smirked. A strong opponent lurked somewhere within the portal, and the opponent was coming. He wondered how many of the imps he could slay before that person – Wargoth, was it? – arrived.

He gritted his teeth and set to slashing. There was, in all likelihood, a long wait ahead of him, and plenty of imps to fill that wait.

Con Fuego


An hour or so into his mindless slashing, the portal flared, growing quickly larger. The imps had stopped coming through several minutes ago, leading Cataclysm to believe that this Wargoth person was coming through. As the portal distorted, it cleared to reveal a vast plain, but instead of grass there was only fire.

“Looks about right for a raging fire-themed villain’s conquered world,” Cataclysm muttered.

“That’s not Somorah…” a voice came, softly.

“Wha?!” Cataclysm spun around to see who’d snuck up on him. It was a blue-skinned, horned individual. Several were behind him in the area he’d cleared out, much to his surprise. “Who’re you? And what’s that, then?”

“I’m an Atealean. Didn’t you even know who you were helping?” Cataclysm shook his head. The Atealean continued, “As for what that is… I suspect that would be known as your Elemental Plane of Fire.”

“What the heck? That can’t be right. What would this Wargoth guy be planning with a portal there?”

“No, no… He couldn’t be…” one of the other Atealeans said.

“Couldn’t be what? Whatever it is, I’m getting some really powerful vibes from this porta – Oh, by the Avatars… He couldn’t have somehow taken control of the Avatar of Fire, could he?”

The Atealean only gulped.

Cataclysm only grinned.

Flames burst forth from the portal, pouring out as if a shaky dam holding back the ocean had burst all at once. Fire scorched the earth, burning the grass instantly and turning the dirt into a charcoal black, the earth cracking. The torrent of flames forced everyone to step back, the searing flames never quite reaching them but making the air sizzle and pop.

From within the depths of the flames, a female form started to take shape. A lithe and agile figure, her body was borne of pure fire, befitting of the Avatar. Her size was so large that she dwarfed even Cataclysm in his massive stature, making her all the more terrifying an image. The clouded “eyes,” could they be called that, as they were pools of white hot liquid flame, seemed even more ominous. That this immensely powerful being was somehow being controlled was all too obvious.

The Atealeans stumbled backwards, one falling down. They started to run when the one that had fallen noticed Cataclysm stepping forward, his blade raised.

“Are you daft, you hulking warrior?” the Atealean shouted. “That’s the Avatar of Fire! Even in its Avatar state, there are none who can hope to defeat her!”

Cataclysm waved dismissively with his free hand, turning his head. “I’m known to do the impossible,” the gesture seemingly said. The Atealean felt somehow reassured, as if he knew that this man would defy all the odds stacked against him. That didn’t stop him from retreating to the nearby hill with his fellows, though.

The closer he got, the more Cataclysm sweated. Not out of fear, but the heat was intense, and coupled with the thick plate armor he always wore, he was practically in a literal furnace. He knew this would be one of his most difficult battles.

Cataclysm relished the thought. Tougher battles meant more combat experience, which meant he could better develop techniques, which meant he could better protect his comrades. This was a battle he eagerly anticipated.

The Avatar made her move first. Before Cataclysm could draw too near, she hurled a fireball with a radius as long as Cataclysm was tall. He executed a full speed shift and deftly dodged to the side, moving as fast as his body possibly could. The afterimage took the blow as he closed the distance between him and his enemy in an instant. The heat at this point was unbearable, but he managed a quick shift to his normal, 55/45 in favor of strength, and swung his blade hard.

The blade connected with a solid wall of flames. Rather than ripping into the Avatar’s body as Cataclysm had hoped, he ended up bringing his blade, full force, against the fires the Avatar had brought up almost instantaneously. The sword clanged harmlessly off the fire as if it were a wall of thickest steel, despite its Wind enchantment to enhance its cutting ability.

He leapt back, unable to withstand the heat anymore. The Avatar pointed towards the sky, her palm open, and snapped her arm down suddenly. A whip of pure fire materialized in her hand, the flames flickering ominously. Cataclysm did another speed shift, 10/90, in preparation.

He should’ve gone higher. The whip cracked through the air almost faster than Cataclysm’s eyes could track. He leapt to avoid it, but the whip curled around his ankle, melting the plate boot quickly, rapidly making its way menacingly towards his flesh. Reacting on instinct, Cataclysm did a 70/30 power shift and brought his blade down across the whip. Not a second too soon, he severed the weapon, the flames ensnaring his ankle dissipating as soon as the weapon was cut.

A slight breeze wafted through the small hole in the back of his boot. That was far too close for comfort. He did a full speed shift, keeping just enough strength to hold onto his blade.

The whip lashed out again, aiming for his torso. He knew its range from the first attack and he leapt back just outside it, feeling the heat from the fire chasing the tip of the whip. Right as it passed him, he flung himself forward as fast as he could, aiming to get in close enough to strike again.

He was caught off-guard when he saw the whip bending back towards him before the arc the whip was traveling had been completed. The Avatar was aiming for his waist this time, preventing him from simply ducking and dodging it. He had to jump.

Damnit, he thought. I’ve played right into her hands. I didn’t think she could change its path that quickly.

He did the only thing he could do. Cataclysm leapt up into the air, knowing the whip would quickly alter its direction and come after him. He gripped his sword with both hands, prepared for the attack from the whip.

Instead, the whip sailed harmlessly in its path. He was baffled at first, but soon felt the massive heat built up behind him. Cataclysm twisted his body to see a fireball the size of his head hurtling at him at insane speeds. Thinking in an instant, he pointed his blade directly into the fireball and did a shift to normal. He tensed his shoulder joints and braced for the impact.

The fireball hit his sword right on the very tip. It split in half down the weapon, but Cataclysm manipulated the Wind enchant to deflect the fireball halves, knocking each aside so they just skimmed past his shoulders, close enough for him to feel the steel heating up immensely.

He twisted again, trying to right himself before he hit the ground, but he did not quite make it. Rather than land comfortably on his feet, he landed instead on his knees, taking the hit quite hard. Before he could recover, the flaming whip came at him again. It was narrow, but he flicked his sword and diverted the path of the whip so it coiled around his blade instead of around his body.

The Avatar pulled the whip and ripped the blade out of his hands. Cataclysm stood up and enacted a full speed shift, dashing after the whip and leaping for his blade. Right as the Avatar snapped the whip away, Cataclysm grasped the hilt and tugged, freeing the blade from the whip’s entanglement. His aerial path was also fortunate enough to carry him right above the Avatar.

Cataclysm did a full power shift, falling towards the Avatar herself. His arc would put his blade within striking range of her shoulder, neck, and head if he swung his blade at its maximum range. He was prepared to strike when a geyser of flame erupted from the ground before the Avatar, plowing right into his stomach, knocking him high into the sky.

The blow sent him reeling and left him dizzy from the pain. His vision was a bit blurry, but he saw the whip traveling at him faster than he could possibly react. His chest plate was almost completely melted through after the pillar of fire that had struck him earlier, and if this whip bit into him there, it would almost certainly burn into his chest. He was bracing himself for that, but the whip instead curled itself tightly around his wrist and yanked him down towards the ground.

He was sure his gauntlet was almost completely melted through, but the pain wasn’t important. The Avatar had made a mistake in directing her attack, but he would still die if he didn’t do something quick. He palmed the blade over to his other hand and sliced down the whip, cutting it off his wrist. Using the momentum from bringing the blade down, he righted himself so he could land on his feet.

With a heavy cracking that splintered the partially melted metal holding his plate boot together, he landed on his feet and rolled to negate most of the damage. The Avatar was clearly surprised at this turn of events, and Cataclysm did a full speed shift, rushing in hard and fast, hoping to take advantage of the surprise. He managed to get in close enough and switched to a full power shift, knowing the fire wall would erupt again when his blade got close. He swung hard, hoping for the best.

Sure enough, the fire wall seared upwards, threatening to block his swing entirely. For a moment, the two forces battled; the flames attempting to keep back his blade, and his blade trying to cut through the flames. It seemed as if it would be a stalemate and the flames would halt even Cataclysm’s strongest swing.

Just as quickly as it seemed he would lose the battle of power, his blade bit into the flames. With the small amount of purchase, it rent the flames, shearing the wall in twain and sunk into the Avatar’s side. An utterly inhuman wail came from the Avatar’s flaming mouth, flickering flames dancing from within.

He leapt back right as she counterattacked, conjuring another pillar of fire from the ground. The Avatar stepped towards him, her long, lithe legs of flame making graceful, threatening strides. She flicked both her wrists and brought forth twin swords of pure fire, their crimson edges appearing simultaneously sharp and nonsolid, an impossibility only made possible by the Avatar’s mighty control over fire.

Cataclysm suspected that the Avatar could either allow his blade to harmlessly pass through the flaming blades, or they would collide as if the fire were solid. Both were possible to the Avatar. He would have to rely on agility to slip past her defenses and dexterity to dodge her attacks, as he could not trust the swords she held in her hands. Material or immaterial, it was impossible to tell until it was too late.

His full speed shift let him close the distance in the blink of an eye, and a full power shift once in close let him bring his blade up forcefully. The Avatar reacted as quickly as he had expected one to, blocking his swing with her left arm, though it was knocked aside from the blow. She underestimated his prodigious strength.

Even though she was caught off balance, she managed to swing her right arm’s sword at Cataclysm, aiming for his arm. He couldn’t risk trying to deflect the blow, in case she turned the sword immaterial. Instead, he dodged towards the still knocked-back left arm and brought his blade inward towards her flank. Her right sword sliced the air narrowly to the left of his leg, so near his plate boot that the metal burned him.

Her reflexes were not so sharp. She stepped back, but Cataclysm’s midnight blade struck home, tearing another gash into her flank, opposite the previous slice. Some kind of liquid fire was oozing from both cuts, perhaps the blood of the Avatar. Her movements were significantly hampered by the large wounds in her abdomen, though, giving Cataclysm the edge against the Avatar.

The Avatar reeled back. Cataclysm took advantage of the opportunity and brought the blade down, aiming for her shoulder. The Avatar held her twin flame swords up in a cross to bear the brunt of the force. Their weapons collided, and the Avatar crumpled slightly under the force, her knees buckling. The gashes in her side were affecting her severely. Her status as an Avatar was the only reason she could still stand. Any normal creature would’ve long since collapsed, possibly died.

“I admire your resolve, Avatar,” Cataclysm said, pressing his blade down against hers. “You almost had me. But this battle ends in my victory.”

He stepped back and let loose a flurry of blows, each one ringing out as the Avatar had to block with her blades. Cataclysm’s ebony blade cascaded down against the Avatar’s crimson swords. He would strike hard from the left, knocking her right sword aside, and then again from the right, striking her left blade aside. He continuously swung, not even pausing to breathe in the oppressive heat. His movements all flowed together, as if orchestrated to beautiful music, and he, a graceful, lethal dancer. After a swift series of strikes, he caught the opportunity to change the music into a requiem.

Cataclysm raised his blade above his head and sliced down, her blades rising to try to block his blow. It was a valiant attempt, but his sword slipped through her defense a split second before she had the blades crossed. Cataclysm’s dark as night sword cut deep into her body, meeting little resistance compared to a person as the Avatar had no bones or armor to speak of. The cut reached from her shoulder down through her stomach before he withdrew the blade and leapt back.

A massive ball of flame erupted out of her, the agonized bellows of the Avatar echoing across the plains. Cataclysm had to retreat further to behind the hill with the other Atealeans as the fireball grew, consuming everything within its radius. Even then, they had to back up further as the flames continued growing outward.

Finally, the fires receded and the group advanced. There, the Avatar knelt, the liquid fire flowing much more freely. The white pools of fire were no longer clouded, her eyes looking thankfully at the man who had defeated her.

“It… It was horrible. I can’t believe Wargoth controlled me. Thank you for stopping me and letting me regain control of myself,” the Avatar said. “I am in your debt. I hope I did not hurt you.”

Cataclysm glanced down at the ruined plate boot, the metal having shattered, his gauntlet, the glove completely severed from the wrist plate and the burns beneath the hole, and his gravely damaged chest plate. “Mostly my armor. Nothing I can’t live with.” He felt a sharp pain in his side as the adrenaline from the battle faded. “Okay, I think you may have broken a couple of my ribs with that flame geyser…”

“I apologize. I tried to blunt my power as much as I could, but Wargoth had almost total control. If the Plane of Fire wasn’t already weakened due to the destruction of our Fire Orb and only having a baby Elemental Dragon, I can’t imagine the havoc Wargoth would’ve wreaked.”

“You… You… What?!” Cataclysm said, baffled. “You BLUNTED your power? And you STILL gave me that much of a problem?!”

“What did you expect of the Avatar of an Elemental Lord? Did you truly think you could defeat one of us at full power?”

“I had my hopes…”

“Foolish mortal. The Blue Mage is our only hope now.”

“Blue Mage… That’s Warlic. Where is he right now?” Cataclysm asked the Atealeans.

They all looked at one another and shrugged. “He’s been gone since your battle with the Mysterious Stranger,” one of them said.

“Damn.”

The Avatar paused. “He’s your only hope. Find a way to bring him back.” She stood up, still gravely injured but in control of herself. “Oh, and… I am known as Fiamme in this timeline. Should you ever need assistance from the Plane of Fire… I am in your debt. Remember that.”

Fiamme rocketed off, flying quickly into the distance and disappearing from sight.

“So… Any idea how to get Warlic back?” Cataclysm turned and asked the Atealeans.

They all looked at one another and shrugged their blue shoulders in unison, their arms up in the air.

“Figures.”

Nearby, Cataclysm finally noticed the sounds of battle. Over the horizon, the army was fast approaching, cutting down the few remaining imps in the area. Ulthair was leading them, his bow morphed from his Spirit Looms shooting arrows made of Soul Threads, with the other hand keeping the Spirit Loom as a stabbing weapon.

Cataclysm raised his arm and waved, feeling the muscles in his side tugging at his several broken ribs. He winced with pain, but got the attention of the army. They pushed harder against the imps, eager to hear how Cataclysm’s battle had gone.

It had been a long while, but Cataclysm was prepared to head home.

*************


The next day, Cataclysm exited his tent at dawn. They had to scrap his chest plate, the broken boot, and his gauntlet. Yulgar in his timeline would have to forge him a new set.

Daray, Adair, and Sloane stood at the center of camp, still charting out what to do, even after the battle had concluded.

“Hey, guys,” Cataclysm said. Adair turned to face the Warrior.

“Hello, Cataclysm. We’ll be returning you today,” Adair said.

“I figured as much. Is Ulthair still asleep?”

Sloane looked around the camp, then back at the images on the table. “Seems like it.”

“Is it just me, or is he gruffer than he was before?” Cataclysm whispered to Adair.

“He’s gruffer. We wouldn’t let him fight this time. Not after what happened against Sepulchure’s forces…”

“Ah, I see.”

Daray split off from the table and headed into the tent Ulthair was sleeping in. Cataclysm shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to wake up to Daray looming over me…”

Adair shook his head. “Nor I, Cataclysm. Nor I.”

“BY THE AVATARS!” a shout came from inside the tent. Cataclysm and Adair laughed, while Sloane chuckled quietly to himself.

Daray came out of the tent. His face was impossible to see through his DoomKnight helmet, but it was plain to see he had a smirk on his face.

Ulthair stumbled out, still half asleep. “We leaving?” he asked, groggily.

“Yeah, we are. Let’s go,” Cataclysm said. His ribs bandaged, it still hurt, but not as much as it had yesterday.

Adair lead the two men off into the forest towards the temporal rifts destined to take them back home.

< Message edited by Teh Cataclysmic One -- 4/23/2012 21:18:28 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 5
4/15/2012 17:34:46   
  San Robin
Modzerella


The monsters are attacking,
Burning everything they see.
But we are ready,
The other falconreach heroes and me.
They have fires that scorch the lands,
but we have had something on our parts.
Burning stronger than their fire,
is the fire in our hearts!
We will beat them using everything we got,
Because hope is like fire it spreads out fast.
But unlike their fire,
our hope shall always last.

Battle on everyone!



< Message edited by San Robin -- 4/15/2012 17:35:43 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 6
4/15/2012 20:48:20   
agentaaa
Member

(my first post here, hope I don't embarass myself too bad, and that those reading this enjoy it)

Sona Broke into another pocket of the enemy forces, his pristine blinding light of destiny before him. A fire imp jumped forward to strike, flames all too visibly burning in it's maw for Sona's taste. Sidestepping the blow, he struck upwards, jumped, and brought his weapon downwards once more on top of the imp, as the creature disappeared in a puff of flame. Radiying into a defensive stance, he blocked the various blasts of flame by the gaggle of imps in front of him, before pulling out a trio of knives, one in each finger, and throwing them at the imps, the blades glowing with the same light as his destiny weapon - the knives themselves mimicked the element and quality of their owner's weapon, a gift to him from Yulgar. the imps each went down in similar pufffs of flame, as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Only because he looked up as he wiped his forehead did he notice the massive, flaming sword bearing down on him in time. Dodging to the right, he saw the blade cut right into the sand, the surrounding sand becoming harsh slivers of glass that struck outwards from the strike, one nicking sona's armor. "What, is this another ashen squi-" Sona paused, taking in the veritable giant in front of him. "Crap. That ain't no squire.".

"I am an ashen knight, human, and wargoth has ordered your doom. your death is now a certainty." The golem said in halted tones.

"Well, don't I feel special?" Sona muttered, before readying his golden axe to prepare for the confrontation before him.

< Message edited by agentaaa -- 4/15/2012 21:02:28 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 7
4/15/2012 22:12:40   
Mortarion
Member

Mortarion stood in the war front, slicing and tearing apart enemies with his powers. He looked absently at the crystal in his chest. Since Malorum's disappearance and the Mysterious Stranger's destruction he had begun to mutate again, thanks to the shard of the ultimate orb that was locked inside his body.

Now his skin was more pale, and he always felt uncomfortable under the light, but when fighting is that the real changes showed, his face became draconic, and his wings expanded. Most of the other heroes always looked at him with suspicious, as if thinking that the Mysterious Stranger would appear soon. They didn't cared thought, when there was a war, as it was now. He killed his enemies quickly, a slice from one of his claws and they were gone. Or they were crushed by the darkness.

Now he was fighting a platoon of Ashen Squires, each of them had fell to his bone blade attached to his arm, but re forces were coming fro ma nearby portal, he tried to reach for it to block it in some way,as e looked for something, and Ashen Squire took the chance and sliced his right shoulder with his flaming sword, the scent of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, and his arm was kept connected by his body by a single tendon, he grinned, soon his arm began to re-attach, as dozens of tendons and veins began to plug to the severed member.

He jumped at the Ashen Squire and killed it with his fangs, quickly retreating before it's lava-like blood burned something he couldn't regenerate. He looked around again only to find a massive Ashen Knight, followed by two platoons of Ashen Squires, he jumped to battle them, blood-lust in his eyes

< Message edited by Mortarion -- 4/16/2012 5:33:31 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 8
4/16/2012 4:42:58   
  Dwelling Dragonlord

ArchKnight AQ / OOC / L&L


The Case of the Missing Mage


Yet another lockdown had been issued, the clan would not concern themselves with interdimensional warfare. Azer was in Warlic's part of the tower to investigate his disappearance, thus far Cysero hadn't been much of help and he had merely talked about sock-dispensers and other bargains of his job. Azer had seen more than enough socks for a lifetime and thus had slipped away while leaving Cysero to talk to other potential customers, for their sake Azer hoped they would cut Cysero short before they ended up in his necromancy-department for quality prices. As he walked up the tower, marvelling about the magic that enabled him to defy one sort of gravity to replace it with yet another, he noticed how eerily quiet it was (apart from the constant comments of Cysero's animated mayonaise portrait). Normally, one could hear the agigated voice of Warlic telling the portrait to be quiet, if one ever decided to walk through the portal at all. Azer figured his best witness would be to ask the portrait, though he was rather sceptical after talking to the "real" Cysero earlier.

"Greetings, portrait."

"Portrait? You've got to be kidding me?"

"Excuse me? You are a portrait, aren't you?"

"Well yes, but to put it that way I could be calling you human. Where's the sense of personality?"

"What would you like me to call you then?"

"Umm, never thought about that. What about Cysero?"

"Cysero is already taken. He's the guy that made you."

"And I am mighty thankful he did, so uhhhh. Mayo and Cysero would be ...."

"Cysemayo?"

"I was thinking Zeuster myself, but okay."

"Why Zeuster?"

"You see, Zeuster is a chickencow god. Gods are awesome and mayo is made out of eggs, it makes perfect sense."

"Okay, I sort of get it. That's not why I'm here though. I want to ask you something."

"You want to know about the chicken and the cow?"

"No, I w-"

"You want to know about the cowchicken?"

"No, wait there's such a thing as a cowchicken?"

"Duh, it's quite hilarious actually. It all began wh-"

"Enough already! I wanted to know what you know about Warlic's disappearance."

"Oh, why didn't you just ask?"

"..."

"Well, I was hanging here like usual and enlightening the blue mage with my witty jokes. I don't think he was really paying attention though. He was screaming rather than listening to my story about how I had coped with the fact I didn't have a mother, quite rude if you ask me. I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"You didn't think about the fact someone was abducting perhaps THE most powerful mage on the planet? Someone who was actually MORE powerful than him?"

Cysemayo sneezed Azer all under.

"Sorry, I'm allergic to seriousness."

"Yuck."

"You don't like mayo?"

"I don't like paying the armourwash."

"Working at the armourwash, working at the armourwash!"

Azer made his leave when Cysemayo started singing, he had heard enough. Thing was, there didn't appear to be much signs of a struggle. Just as he thought this he noticed the line which separated the domains of the two mages had disappeared. Azer rubbed his head. He wouldn't have? One look was enough to confirm his suspicions, Cysero's experiments were all over the tower. He hadn't noticed because he had entered the tower through Cysero's shop, but now it was clear that Cysero had claimed the tower for himself in the absence of his roommate. With that realization came the smell of the socks. He sniffed a couple times. That weren't the socks, that was the mayo all cluttered on his armour. He grabbed a green sponge from a pile and formed a water sphere with his other hand and started rubbing it off, unfortunately for Azer Cysero or whoever had made the pile hadn't made it very solid and the whole thing came tumbling down. Caught by surprise, Azer could call himself lucky the avalanche consisted of sponges that hadn't been treated with explosives yet. He tried to pull himself out, but that was easier said than done. Out of all the places he could've gotten into this mess, it was the tower of two of his allies. The sponges started lighting up green. Wait, were these things treated with highly explosive material after all? The sponges' became brighter and brighter and then .... they vanished. Azer blinked and looked around confused.

"So, that's another order on its way to Popsprocket. Oh hey, Azer!" Cysero said.

When he got up, he saw to his surprise that Warlic's staff and broken globe lay at his feet and when he turned around he saw a portal like the ones that spawned infernals.

"Uh, Cysero. What's that?"

"Oh that, I forgot about that thing. I kept those sponges in front of it so my experiments wouldn't escape the tower and those little fire dudes from entering. They may be funny, but they can't get along with my sock monkeys."

"What about Warlic's globe?"

"You're right, that thing is broken. Let me fix that for him."

Cysero took up the globe and left for his workshop, leaving Azer alone with a few sock monkeys.

He knew enough, Warlic was abducted and taken to wherever this portal might lead him. To overpower the most powerful mage on Lore told Azer he would not stand a chance against whatever it was that lead these infernal armies. He would have to be smart and bide his time, learning whatever he could. He needed a lot more help if he was to save Warlic, then he stepped through the portal.
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 9
4/18/2012 18:48:12   
Elryn

Custodian (DF)


For what happened to Guardian 1 and Guardian 2 previously, see The Charge.

Interlude II: Mortarion appears


Not far from the battlefield, a hulking figure approaches in a steady gait. Twice as tall as the average man, it lurches its right arm with large clawed hand with every step. Its foot lands, vegetation and all that lives turns, rots and putrefies, and so with every step. The epitome of putridity clad in armour and an ill aura. The very sight of it is enough to turn the stomach of those unprepared.

On the battlefield, two guardians stand back to back fighting off the undead. One culls an undead with the swing of his Guardian Blade.

Guardian 1: Huzzah! I told you it was a good idea to follow them.

Guardian 2: Mind you, there weren’t many other options and must I remind you this was my idea?

Guardian 1: Well, if you had listened to me perhaps we wouldn’t be here risking our lives!

Guardian 2: Oh really? Like what?

Guardian 1: Well… We could’ve rebuilt that barricade.

Guardian 2 imagines the day’s work being destroyed by more passing adventurers

Guardian 2: Futile.

Guardian 1: A pay station?

Guardian 2 imagines being chased by angry adventurers

Guardian 2: I’d rather not end up as a shish kebab.

Guardian 1: Nitro…

Guardian 2: Don’t even think about it!

Guardian 1: …

Guardian 1: *sniff sniff* Peew! What is that smell? It smells like someone took garbage, fermented skunk and my mother’s fish dish and mixed it all in a blender.

Guardian 2: Sweet Lorithia! It’s Mortarion! Look away!

Guardian 1: Whaat? What do you m…

Guardian 2: No! Don’t look at h…

Guardian 1: Hmmpht!!

Guardian 2: …Well, there goes his stomach…

Guardian 2: And you still haven’t told me what a blender is yet!

‘’Nuurgle!’’ The monster’s voice sounded more like an inhuman gargle than anything else. It entered the fray, flaying the undead with bestial delight. Up, down, left, right, it attacked relentlessly with zealous fury. It stopped, seemingly surprised, and looked skyward. A purple dot moved high above. It stared for a moment longer…

Then ran off clumsily after it.
AQ  Post #: 10
4/19/2012 2:42:23   
The Odor
Member

The Odor looked across the sands from his raised post. The other adventurers were battling the fiery beasts across the sands under the flying city. Close to his left he saw a blast of energy as Noel Woodsoul drove of a group of Imps. That hood had to be unbearably hot under the midday sun he pondered before turning back to his scanning of the battle field. Far off the rifts vomited forth wave after wave of burning soldiers to meet them but as of late he had noted that a few rifts had silenced... They had to be nearing the end of the war... This made his task that much more urgent... As he suddenly he spotted a taller warrior treading through one of the rifts a smile reached his lips. His skeletal wings started flapping in the air as he jumped of the pile of corpses he had been searching from and launched himself towards the giant slaying what fiery beasts the laid between them. He still wanted 5 more of their heads before wars end and he'd be damned before failing.




The last days of the war went by in a rush. The fires were dying down, the wounded warriors were receiving care and the catapults were being stored away. This was the task The Odor, Noel and Szeth had been assigned to.
"I have never understood why we don't just buy new ones..." Noel pondered as he and The Odor lifted off the catapult itself from the frame and carried it towards the boxes. "We could light them on fire and.... well maybe not this time but other times... and shove them downhill into the enemy in the final push... Then get fresh ones next war."
"And when wars are in far of places with no woods?" The Odor countered.
"We could carry the timbers with the Dragons." Szeth said from where he was stacking unused sponges in isolated barrels.
"Instead of aiding refugees, transporting warriors, supplies or well I don’t know… these catapults?" The Odor muttered grumpily. "Look, lets just get this done so we can go have dinner."
"Why is he so stingy all of a sudden?" Szeth asked Noel as The Odor started stacking the boxes and barrels on the now bare catapult-frame.
"He failed his little race." Noel said with a giggle.
"I did no such thing! I got my 30 Ashen Knights well in time." The Odor bit of sharply.
"So you did. But after you were done you got your normal Blood Knight attack and swore to take eight more since that was how many Giant Zardbies you killed last Mogloween." Noel said now fully laughing.
The Odor shot him a lethal glare.
"If you got that much time to watch me fight you can beat more foes." He muttered.


A few paces away three young knights looked at the experienced adventurers picking apart a catapult.
"Who are they?" one asked.
"Dude! You don’t know who they are?" One of his friends said with his mouth agape.
"That’s the ASIL Warmaster The Odor, his adjutant Noel Woodsoul and the Grim Reaper of the clan- Szeth!" The third proclaimed. "To think we have fought with so noble combatants..."
"Wow..." The first one said, his eyes filled with respect for the great fighters in front of him. Well he had never heard of the clan... or the titles.... or the people behind the titles but they had to be important.
While the first knight stared at his peers the second leaned up towards the third and asked:
"How do you know who they are? I just wanted to seem smart..."
"I asked the guy with the ears." He answered.


< Message edited by The Odor -- 4/24/2012 17:58:06 >


_____________________________

Where is my Hat of of Darkness, Dorkishness and Despair?
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 11
4/20/2012 18:38:22   
exodus74
Member

The Guardian
The flames die down.
Out from inferno, a lone Guardian walks. Guardian Colt.
He is confident.
Glancing back at the motionless, charred Imps behind him, he comes to a disturbing revelation.
He's the last of his unit.
An Ashen Squire pull it's sword out of a fallen Guardian.
"Ven. She shall be honoured for her bravery." Colt mutters as he charges the Squire.
The Squire brings up his sword, to which the Guardian Blade impacts.
Colt swings again. And again.
The first strike is blocked again, with the second hitting the Squire's side, rupturing it's armour.
It staggers as lava slowly oozes from the wound, and Colt takes the oppertunity to strike.
The winning blow belongs to Colt. On to the next monster.
Colt spots several Imps around the remains of a Guardian.
Three quick strikes with his blade and they fall. Colt recognises the Guardian.
"Nahl. Survives the darkness just to fall like this? You will be honoured."
A Squire charges Colt from behind The Guardian senses, and desperately ducks out of the way.
A split second too late.
The blade inflicts a severe wound on Colt's right arm.
A follow-up strike from the blunt end of the Squire's weapon sends the Guardian to the ground.
The Squire braces to attack again.
As Colt flinches, preparing for the worst, a slight whistling sound flies by.
He looks around to see a Ranger, thanking the Avatars that he wasn't the only one holding the line.
Before Colt can react, the Ranger is swarmed by Imps. A sad fate for one so heroic.
Large crashes rock the ground. Colt fights against them, using his sword as leverage to help him get up.
He turns around. An Ashen Knight.
Looking around; heros are falling by the second. There won't be another lucky save.
Colt breathes in, ignoring the pain from his wounds.
He lifts his sword to point to the Knight.
He charges.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 12
4/25/2012 10:47:49   
the_hated_one
Member

thru fires and flames

Rifts are breaking
Many beings are scorching
A war occurs and a hero is fighting
fighting for his people and for his town
and to stop the tyrant on winning the crown

Unusual beings from other world running to escape the evil's sight
for they are frightened with his might
They cant defeat it but they can help
in protecting the town before it melts

Teaching the hero their fighting skills and art
So he can win the occurring war
Even tho not quite sure
The hero must look under the hood
for he must see the secret behind the truth

The being said "hero please dont make us frown"
"and make sure the blazing crown lay on the ground"


< Message edited by the_hated_one -- 4/25/2012 10:50:15 >
AQ DF  Post #: 13
4/26/2012 22:37:13   
balence1
Member

Hanna: Balence? Balence, get up.
(Balence opens her eyes)
Balence: J-Jen? Hanna? What are you doing here? I thought you were with…
Hanna: Warlic is gone.
Balence: How long was I…
Hanna: Almost a year.
Balence: And Warlic?
(All eyes turn to Jen)
Hanna: She hasn't said much since… then. You have to understand why… first Alexander, and now…
Balence: (Nods) I understand. Somewhat. How does she even know Xan again?
(Jen looks out the window, hand clinging to a book. It looks slightly burned)
Hanna: I don't really know… She just seems to have a kind of… connection? To him.
(Jen's eyes close. She is thinking about something, but no one seems to notice her)
Balence: So... how did you wake me, anyway?
Hanna: I... well, let's just say that I have been... training. (Grins)

(About a day later)
Ash: Hey, get over here! Give that back!
Hanna: (Grinning) NOW!
(Balence and Hanna slip a note into Ash's bag and run off. At that, Jen drops the package she was holding and turns into the woods)
Balence: Do you think this will work?
Hanna: (Nods) If anyone knows where Warlic is, it would have to be Ash. I mean, he must have been all over Lore by now! Surly **he** will know how to find Warlic.
(Jen looks unsure, but says nothing)
Ash: (Back by his bag) Lets see… what do I have left? (Pulls out notes and letters) Hmm… I still have to make sure Cysero hasn't blown anything up yet. Better do that! (Looks at the note that Hanna and Balence had sneaked him) Warlic? Hmm… I wish I knew where he was. It looks important. I wonder who sent him this? Oh well. (Sigh) I will have to try. Later.
Serenity: Another note for Warlic, huh? That makes 4 this week. Must be a lot of hero's looking for him.
Ash: I'd say. I wonder where he went.
Balence: (walking over to the two of them) You don't know where he is? At all?
Hanna: (Staying where she is) That girl will be the death of me…
(Jen just looks saddened, as if it had all been for nothing)
Ash: Not at all, sorry.
Serenity: But, I must say, it is good to see **you** again, Balence. (Smiles) Welcome back to Falconreach!
(Balence smiles slightly)
Ash: (Giggling) Welcome back to reality is more like it!
Balence: (Grinning) Haven't changed **one bit**, have you? Hahaha!
Ash: No need to, is there? (Still grinning)
(Jen walks away from her sisters, the burned book still in her hands)

(Jen walked down a road, eyes closed. She had been here before. She stopped in front of a burned building she had seen before, and sat down. She pulled out a book and started reading)
???: Hmm… so, that's where that went? Interesting… I will have to keep an eye on her. Just to be on the safe side.
(Jen looks over at the tree where ??? is standing, but they move away before she can see who's talking. At that, she stands up and walks away, book in hand)

Voice 1: Where are we?
Voice 2: I… I don't know. What is this place?
Guardian 1: Holt! Who goes there?
Hanna: (Lurking on the shadows) Here it comes… any moment now. No strange purple people are gonna be sneaking around Falconreach any more. (Smirk)
Voice 1: We come in peace. We are looking for shelter.
Guardian 1: Shelter from what?
Voice 2: The land we come from is in grave danger. We need help, before we are **all** lost.
Hanna: They always say that, don't they? (Sigh) But, they won't fall for it **this time**.
Voice 1: We are the Ateala. (Looks over to where Hanna is standing) We mean you no harm, ma'am.
Hanna: (walking out from the shadows) Sure, sure. They ALWAYS say that! Go ahead, trust 'em. I won't stand for it. You get a fire-ball in the back, so be it! (Storms off)
Guardian 2: Some times that girl can be just as bad as her mother…
Guardian 1: Hush! You know we're not meant to talk out that!
Guardian 2: Shouldn't they know?
Voice 1: I'm sure your leader has good reasons for not telling them. Plus, she looks old enough to understand more then you give her credit for. It's no wonder she wouldn't trust us.
Hanna: (Mutters) You don't even know who she was… you don't even… she wan't like that… she wanted to help…
(A shadow moves away from the crowd, and seems to make it's way to Balence on the other side of Falconreach. She is sitting out side Alina's shop, waiting for something, or some one. It is very late in the night)
Balence: (Sigh) For the older of us, I sure don't do much, do I? Sure, I saved the world once, but now Hanna has all the fun there, with that dragon and all. Me? Where was I? Useless, as always…
Voice: Doesn't it drive you crazy?
Balence: Yeah, but what can I do? I mean, look at me… (Pulls her whist brace down slightly. The skin under it looks chard beyond healing)
Voice: You never know what you you can do, now. You came out of it alive, didn't you?
Balence: (Sigh) I guess I did, Nythera.
(Nythera walks out from behind the building)
Nythera: Well, you know what? You may be **nothing** in caparison to me, but, you can always… you know, **TRY** and be someone.
Balence: Coming from **YOU**, I may just believe it! Ha!
(Nythera grins)
???: (Still in hiding) Balence sure has changed… I wonder when that happened? How long has she been like… like that? Last I saw her she was… (Stops) Better left unknown. We don't know if she can hear me from here. Plus… her sister is near. At least they have each other.

(A couple days later)
Hanna: Not going to happen.
Balence: Well, that's my sister for you… (Sigh) Always disagreeing with **everyone**.
Alz'ein: Sure she's the one?
Isiri: Yes, she is. Her and the younger one. You will see. (Grins kindly)
Hanna: What do you mean?
(Jen just picked up her book and looked at Isiri with wonder. She could tell something was different about her. Different from the humans she knew, at least)
Isiri: You know you have more abilities then you show people, child. So does she.
Hanna: Jen can't even use magic!
Isiri: (As Jen looks down) No, I see that. But, I can also see something great about your sister. So does your Dragon. Do you not speak Drakanonic?
Hanna: I do not. Nor do I want to.
Alz'ein: She can't help us. She won't even listen to you!
(Nirios and Jen look at Hanna, seemingly thinking the same thing)
Balence: Just this once, Hanna. I have already helped them before. Veyla can…
Hanna: (Getting up into her sister's face) You helped these… these… **THINGS**?! With out my help?! Didn't you learn from last time, Balence? Remember why you are so terrified of fire?! What if that had happened again? This time, Warlic wouldn't be there to save you.
Balence: I have learned from my mistake with Xan. I knew they would not hurt me, Hanna. Plus, You may be a DragonLord, but I am the one with the Dragon Amulet! The one that knows what's going on.
(Jen closes her eyes, hands clenched)
Isiri: (Nodding at Jen) Hanna, Balence. Please step back from this. We will not hurt you if you do not hurt us. We can not come out in the day, Hanna. That is why we came at night. I do not ask that you trust us, just that you help us.
(Hanna stood, her hands shaking with anger, as if she was about to draw out her sword. Jen still had not opened her eyes, but stepped in front of Isiri.
DF AQW  Post #: 14
5/8/2012 19:53:19   
Shadowscythe warrior
Member

quote:

STORY TIME!!!! THE HERO WHO SACRIFICED For the Alliance
Wargoth looks down at the battlefield, he shakes his head in disgust seeing his minions being destroyed, he knows only one thing can stop them, pulls out fire and aims at Mritha knowing she is the key to Falconreach's victory. Mritha turns around and at the last second stops the fearsome fire with a counter-attack of purple fire, Wargoth laughed crazily and easily breaks through Mritha's shield. She fell to the ground, furious now that she had been defeated, as Wargoth stood over her. Ready to strike the final blow, she spit(purple spit of course) in his face and smirked saying two words,"Fear Golden". Ready to absorb the blow, a Hero with the mark of Xan stepped forward and fought Wargoth. It was SS who she thought long ago betrayed her, she tried to scream run but he fought Wargoth with golden flames entwined with purple. Knowing Wargoth was more powerful he teleported Mritha out of the Battlefield. With him being distracted at getting Mritha out, Wargoth aimed a fatal blow at SS warrior. SS pulling out a shard of the ultimate orb, broke it and aiming all of its power at Wargoth pulling him back to the Void. Where he would bide his time to return. SS slowly got up, looking around seeing the fire imps being destroyed by the thousands, smiled and fell to the ground unconscious. Gashes all over his body.. all in the name of the Golden Onslaught Purple Chaos Alliance, in the name of the queen Mritha.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 15
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