RE: =DF= Friday the 13th - Wrath of Wargoth War Stories and Poetry

RE: =DF= Friday the 13th - Wrath of Wargoth War Stories and Poetry (Full Version)

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The Odor -> RE: =DF= Friday the 13th - Wrath of Wargoth War Stories and Poetry (8/7/2012 15:24:40)
The Odor was embroiled in heavy conflict on the frontlines against Wargoths forces. He had been for a few hours but showed no signs of tiring nor losing his cool. He was a most impressive foe. “And why aren’t we attacking now? He would be far easier now that he is surrounded by other foes.” The voice bit in to his focused thoughts like a warm knife through butter. He sighed and turned to the muscular woman. “We would make ourselves a target for every last warrior down there and I feel we need all the fighters we have access to beat Wargoth…” “THEN WE KILL WARGOTH!!!!” “We would not stand a chance. I am also still interested in what he and his ASIL is up to…” “Okay. So why am I stuck babysitting Robert while you get to fight the fire-dudes?” He pressed his fingers to the side of his head as he felt a headache coming on… “Because you are too elementally challenged for this fight. Now if you excuse me I would like to get back to this war.” He rose in the air with his daggers floating beside him. “That still freak me out….” She muttered as she turned and headed off. The Odor caught the riftwalkers blade on his spear before hitting him with the bottom. His foe vibrated out of existence as had the others… He didn’t even know what happened to his Athelan foes… Well they seemed to be thinning. He turned to face an Ascendant moving in for one of their lighting strikes from the left at the same time as he threw a handful of shadows on a advancing cryptic that shattered. He stabbed the Athellan mage through the chest and watched as he turned into light and blasted off. He cursed under his breath and straightened his posture. He was so sick of this constant battle… He had important things that needed his attention. “Odor! Watch out!” The shout came from his rear left. He spun to his right jabbing with his spear, but the Riftwalker coming towards him merely leaned to the left dodging the spear with an arm breadth and his sword kept going towards his face when twin daggers enshrouded in magic struck the enemy. One went through the riftwalkers arm and the other cut up the cheek, causing it to disappear in a blue burst. The Odor looked as the daggers hovered back to a strange man… His skin was snow white and his eyes glowed with an icy blue and his hands with purple energy. His clothing was of an Athellan cut and the daggers where the ones crafted during the war… Was he an Atrean? Or a Human with off-color skin? “I am human.” The cryptic answered. “And I don’t read minds. I simply get the question a lot. I was one of the first humans to start using the teachings of the Cryptic.” “Oh… Okay. So how where did you hear my name?” “I have been looking into the Warmongers of Lore. To know who my allies are.” The Odor shook off the original doubts he had been having about this guys story… He was getting paranoid. “I think we should get back to the fighting before we are accused off laziness.” The cryptic hovered up into the air and headed towards the enemy lines. “I am sure we will see each other around.” The Odor hovered back to the War Camp looking for ASILS High Sage Black Mage… He needed to find out more about the Doom Knights name… He added it to his never ending mental to-do list as he spotted the High Sage guarding the catapults. “Hi Black Mage. How are things going for you?” A few seconds passed before the Doom Knight turned to him. “My doings are of no concern to you.” He hated how bi-polar this guy was… Lovely one minute and the next… Well he just had to deal with it. “As your commanding officer I can tell you it is of my concern.” The doomknight looked him in the eyes for a few seconds before saying: “Sorry Odor. It’s going fine. I started watching the Catapults about an hour ago. Some Riftwalkers got dangerously close so I figured I would make sure the Artillery folk could keep on blasting.” And there it was again. A complete turnover. Well, at least he was efficient. “Well that’s good. Hey have you seen a cryptic hovering about around here?” The doomknight once again fell silent before answering: “Any peculiar things about him? A lot of people were impressed with the secrets the Atreans showed them and started using them.” “Solid white skin, Atrean gear?” The Doomknight seemed lost in thought before muttering; “I have seen a man fitting your description. He was in company of a Sneevmole and a man with a mask. The others headed off towards Falconreach before he went towards the front. Was that all?” His surly persona was back so he settled on being happy for what info he got… “Nah that’s all. You are doing a great job.” He took off from the ground and flew over and grabbed a muffin from a platter. Why was he so suspicious of that cryptic… There was a ton of stranger people on the fronts… and he was obsessing over that guy’s… Yeah what? An unsavory gut feeling? Okay he had to stop this. He could look over this guy after the war. There was a victory to be had and he knew they had to win this. He hovered back towards the enemy lines as he finished his pastry and grabbed his spear. It was time to Battle On! Muhijs spun around the Ascendant that had attacked him to avoid the lightning… ish things his foe summoned. He sent out a handful of soul chains to tangle his foe so he could turn his attention to the Flamedance that was coming up on his left. With a thought he turned his Soul Claws into a katana and then blasted through his foe turning the flaming beast into naught but cinders and ash. The Ascendant was now rapidly burning the soul chains but Muhijs simply drew a deep breath. Slowly he saw the contours of his enemys’ very soul appear. He leapt forward, cutting it in twain and the ascendants shape flew into the air. He looked around the forest patch where he was fighting. Most of the grass was burnt to ash and all around him in the forest he saw flashes of light as the adventurers of Lore clashed with the Infernal forces of Wargoth… The air was heavy with the stench of ash and fire as their enemies burnt it. Hearing a light thud he turned around only to look into the glowing eyes of a skull. The Odor looked at the hooded form of his friend Muhijs. “So how are things going?” he asked. “We are under heavy pressure from Wargoths forces and many are wounded. I have not seen any other Shadows.” “I met Black Mage over by the war camp. I think Warden is with his TDK friends. Noel… Probably close. What you say about finding him and pulling an ASIL Master charge?” “Sounds cool.”

blaze656 -> RE: =DF= Friday the 13th - Wrath of Wargoth War Stories and Poetry (8/9/2012 18:51:09)
Ok, so this will be poetry for the war The end is nigh, We hold our flag high, We'll kill Wargoths minions, they get no opinions, We'll slice at the imps, using our pirate chimps, Catapults make them splatter, They get no say in the matter, The Fiendshooms are dying, our flags still high flying, We'll conquer them all, and their race shall fall, and why we would kill when they have no will? to protect us full on So lets war BATTLE ON!!!

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