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black knight 1234567 -> RE: The Hallows Inn (12/28/2015 13:35:44)

''Two hundred gold coins?! the agreed fee was fifty! it why we hired you over every other schmuck who came for the notice!''
Sorlan could only sigh. It came with the job, really. You couldn't ask for pay in advance because there is always a good chance you'll end up as dinner for a pack of beasts and everyone suddenly becomes reluctant about payment when you show up alive an well.
''We agreed to fifty coins with a safety fee of one hundred fifty coins for unexpected injuries and occurrences. In case you haven't noticed, my left cheek is currently bleeding, lest we forget you did not mention it was a wyvern nest, and I quote ''looking for a strong, able bodied lad to take down a small monster. Fee negotiable''.

Truth be told, Sorlan knew exactly what he was getting into when the older looking man pointed out the location of the cave for him. After all, as an experienced monster slayer who's traversed the land multiple times over, he's bound to recognize where different types of monsters congregate, but he cared not to mention it. Coin's hard to come by these days.
And yet, the same look of reluctance painted the villager's face. Sorlan extended his hand, palm open.

''Chuck it up as a learning experience and pay up''
It was the villager's turn to sigh, as he pulled out a brown pouch from his back pocket, throwing it into the hunter's grasp. That sound, the satisfying clink made by a shiny gold coin smacking against the black chain mail and leather of his gauntlet. He brought his other hand from behind his back, holding on to a wyvern's head by the yellow tinted horns, throwing it down infront of the contractors feet, blood dripping into the marshy land underneath them.

''Pleasure doing business with you''.
The nomad strove off in the opposite direction, heading for the Inn. He was afterall, in Blackwater for a reason. The Queen of Illusions.
Best head back to the inn now, ought to figure out how i'll hand-
Something was off with Darkwald. Visibility was decreasing, very fast. Usually, Sorlan would just shrug it off as Darkwald trying its hardest to make life a pain, but this time it was different. The mist wasn't normal, it was artificial, magical in nature.

He had to hurry.
The pace of his steps quickened, but the nose they made diluted. A balancing act between weight and speed, a hunter's most important tool.
The mist in all its thickness could not mask what was happening. Each step Sorlan took, the picture became clearer. Huts, manors and houses empty as a haunted plot, almost as if they were evacuated. Villager scrambling in the direction opposite of the inn, cursing and shouting at the top of their lungs about ''hell on earth'', the monster slayer soon saw for himself what they meant.

His companions from his previous mission, interlocked in a violent dance of steel and fangs with hellish creatures, taking the likeness of a fox. Among them were several new faces Sorlan did not recognize, but nonetheless they were in it together.
He was quick to pull out his sword, ready to charge head on against the new threat. But the sounds of battle were overlayed with heavy banging upon the gates of Blackwater.

"Hey! Hey! What's going on? Someone let me in!"
Sorlan skirmished the edges of the battlefield, creeping around the foxes till he found himself facing the familiar southeastern gate.
Trying to reach the lever would only compromise my position...
There was a 50/50 chance that the men behind the gates were simply men or merchants who would scamper off at the first sight of trouble, leaving Sorlan to deal with the fallout once the foxes attention is drawn towards him. On the other hand, they could be capable warriors who will hold off the onslaught of beasts.

Sorlan was always the
He grasped his hilt tightly, his breathing slowing down to controlled bursts as flame consumed his blade, shining brightly amidst the mist.
''Whoever's behind that gate, step off!''
He plunged his silver coated steel sword into the framing of the gate, the magical burst of fire allowing him to cut straight through the frame. He guided his hand to form the shape of a square, enough for any regular man to pass through into Blackwater.

With heavy force he kicked the wood inside the little frame he made, allowing entry to whomever desired.
He looked at the two men, atleast one of them was a warrior, and then back at the threat by the tavern.
''Welcome to Blackwater''.

He ran straight towards the tavern, only to find everyone either held up or strapped down by roots that seemingly popped from the ground beneath them. In closest vicinity was an elven blonde haired women tied down to the ground. He paid no mind to the creatures that surrounded the main square, one of the beasts lunged at him, he slid beneath the beast, its jaws finding naught but the ground to munch on, he rolled back onto his feet. The second fox attempted to claw the man, but as a hunter his reflex time allowed him to side step just in the nick time, maintaining speed and momentum necessary to cut what was holding down the elf. In one smooth motion his blade made impact with the vines.

Grrk
Sorlan was stopped in motion, his blade stuck in the giant stems that held down the other warrior. Those weren't just any supernatural vines, they were drawing from an incredibly strong magical source. His best guess? the man with the cane confronting the information broker.

Sorlan would have interrupted their little talk, but then he remembered he had a bunch of angry foxes to deal with. He removed his sword from the plants, instead pointing it towards the beasts as they circled each other.




Vanir -> RE: The Hallows Inn (12/29/2015 20:44:45)

''Whoever's behind that gate, step off!''

It seemed someone was going to let them in. However, the man on the other side obviously was not one of the town watch, and his method for opening the gate was much more creative. Corvus jumped back in surprise as a steel sword point jutted through his side of the gate glowing with magical fire. It began cutting and burning its way through the gate, and at a surprisingly rapid pace. Whatever was going on on the other side, this man needed their help in a hurry. After a rough square was cut into the gate, the new shape fell forward and the man behind was exposed.

After such a grand door-opening display, the black trench coat he saw was a little disappointing. This man must be powerful though, for he had just sliced a hole through thick, heavy wood without a second thought.

“Welcome to Blackwater.” The mysterious man said before immediately running back to the sounds of battle.

Corvus spoke to the crusader, “I’ll see you on the other side. Perhaps then, we can be introduced.” Then he stepped through the hole and rushed to follow the man with the flaming sword.

He stopped at the southern entrance to the center of town, and saw where the sound of war had come from. He took a quick survey of the situation. All around, warriors struggled within the bondage of seemingly autonomous vines. This is powerful sorcery. Elves, men, and some strange creature alien to Corvus were tied up by the strong vines. Wanting to take a closer look at the six legged creature but realizing it posed no threat in its current state, his gaze moved on to the source of the howling he had heard. But not wolves. He recognized their features as fox-like, but their size had been greatly exaggerated and confused him.

They must be supernatural beings. Where is your master? Oh, that could be him. . . Or perhaps her. At the center of everyone’s attention was a woman with violet hair and a man dressed in white supported by a cane. Corvus easily knew which one was the enemy.

No mortal man wears white in this mud. Least not a poor one. And I’ve never liked the rich.

A fox lunged at the mysterious swordsman and broke the stillness of the standoff. Corvus’s arms began working. Planting his arbalest, he spun the crank in a fury to build tension on the bow, loaded the bolt, hefted the long crossbow up into his arms, and stared down the tip of the bolt.

The mysterious gate-cutter carefully circled the foxes. Just a few more steps. . . There. Corvus let a bolt loose aimed right at one of the beasts. Then, he began loading another bolt immediately without checking the success of his first.




Remaint -> RE: The Hallows Inn (1/3/2016 6:51:58)

A crimson sword flashing with fire crossed her vision and Folliwen yelped. The heat emanating from the brilliant weapon was fierce, and so distracted her for a moment before she realised the potential intention of the sword’s barer.

He’s not trying to kill me, he’s not trying to kill me! He can’t miss my bright yellow head!

The flaming sword was pulled away and from her position on the mud-caked floor, Folliwen had to analyse the newcomer from the bottom upwards. Her eyes lit up in surprise upon catching sight of his long trenchcoat.

Who, really…?

That surprise shifted to a slightly different one when she took in the face of her potential saviour.

Unknown. Still welcomed! Yet, would be nice if I was freed.

As if on cue, the mystic vines squeezed and forced a squeak from the little bound elf. Though in a difficult position, Folliwen remained attentive to the slightly more hopeful scene, and caught sight of another man, this time clad in lunar-esque decorated partial plate. The two figures looked solid, powerful and well-equipped. Their mere presence brightened the downed chasseur’s mood.

In addition, they reminded her of the iron and powder clad armies that traversed her home territory. Not so much as iron regarding the former and powder regarding the latter, but Folliwen had met clothe-armed mystic melee warriors and arbalest armed plated troops prior, and they did not disappoint at all. This one wielding his fiery weapon left an impression on the chasseur; to swing about a sword covered in flames must have required much study in the discipline of pyromancy. Once more the elf acknowledged her inadequacy in manipulating fire, for each time she attempted more than a barrel-guided spark, hell breaks loose.

Well, surely we can now turn the tides. I’m rather anxious to see this pretentiously dressed demon deprived of his dignity!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contently munching on the magic packed vines, Crazy-Eyes caught the sight of an armoured human staring at him. For an odd reason or two, Crazy-Eyes had good feelings about this human. His wobbly eyes seemed brighter, perhaps friendly even.

O’ hai der’!

That brief moment passed, and Crazy-Eyes resumed munching, now steadily following the armoured human with his yellow gaze.




Gingkage -> RE: The Hallows Inn (1/4/2016 20:52:31)

The strange woman was apparently not an enemy.

That was the only thing Sera could think of as she suddenly found herself faster, which made her a more effective threat to the foxes she was trying to keep from killing her. Irritatingly, she wasn't able to land fatal blows, due either to some combination of magic, their agility, or both, but the blows she did land went from little more than glancing to severe bites against strangely bloodless flesh and fur.

Even if it wouldn't kill the creatures, the blows would at least slow them down.

There! She finally found a chance to land a fatal blow. She moved with all the speed, strength, and skill she needed to impale the fox on her blade when she suddenly found herself jerking to an abrupt halt, trapped by vines all of her struggles could do nothing against.

An additional vine managed to stop her left hand before she could grab one of her throwing knives to perhaps saw away at her bindings, and she wasn't fool enough to try the feat with her sword. That was a good way to lose a limb.

So, as much as she hated it, she found herself forced to watch as whatever would happen next played itself out. Though that didn't stop her from intently watching the foxes as well. If they thought her helpless prey and attempted to kill her, they would find that even restrained to barely able to move her wrist, she was still effective enough with her blade to be too bothersome a meal to be worth it.




Draycos777 -> RE: The Hallows Inn (1/27/2016 0:56:51)

Kitsondra lunged at Guglilmo, slashing and feinting to try and throw the white tailored vampire off. Guglilmo, for his part, was unfazed and used his cane to counter Kitsondra's attacks. Taking a step back from the offensive, Kitsondra took a deep breath.

"Ah, it's just as I thought." Kitsondra gave a half smirk; "I really don't want to fight you at all."

"Then why not make this much easier and hand over the sword?"

"Humph, you know very well why I can't do that."

Kitsondra scoffed as Guglilmo sighed.

"Very well, Although I don't really see why you won't agree with me, shall we continue?

Kitsondra resumed a battle stance, and not before long, the two were back to trading blows, though the battle looked to be in Guglilmo's favor.

"Tch, he really is the worst opponent to have to face. He's way better that short swords than I am, and using magic against someone like him is out of the question. I can only hope to keep this battle lasting long enough for the others to finish their battles. But, it sure is a hell of a time keeping this battle to a draw while I'm like this."

The fight returned to another standstill, but this time it was Guglilmo that broke the silence. The sound of annoyance creeping in his voice.

"Oi heiress. Why are your attacks so much weaker than I remember? Surely you of all people haven't gotten weaker over the years. So why aren't you using your full strength? If you really wanted to keep me from having that sword, wouldn't you use everything in your power too?"

"Shut it." Kitsondra rebuked him through heavy breathes. "What I do is my decision."

It wasn't as if she 'needed' the air, but breathing helped ki flow and the oxygen increased to output of her muscles. It also gave the bonus of looking 'normal'. Still, for her to have to use ki strikes this early in the fight.

"...Don't tell me that you're concerned about the townsfolk that will get caught up in our fight if you were to take me head on? Amusing."

With a smile, Guglilmo pointed the bottom of his cane at Sorlan. Strong winds gusted as they collected in a sphere at the end of the cane. Kitsondra's eyes widened for a bit as she understood what he was doing.

"Bast-!" Kitsondra lunged at Guglilmo and stuck at the cane. Guglilmo side-stepped, but the range of the sword was just enough so that his cane was pushed off balance as the spell went off. Large crescent blades of wind launched from the sphere, their path towards Sorlan. Due to the cane being put off balance, they missed cutting Sorlan to ribbons, and instead, destoryed the fence and ripped apart some of the vines holding down Folliwen, giving her room to change position until they rewrapped themselves.

"Your fight is with me remember!?"

Ducking down, Kitsondra went to slice upward, against Guglilmo's exposed flank. However this was blocked by a blade that was hidden inside of Guglilmo's cane. Kitsondra moved her neck out of the way as the blade extended, winching as it scratched the top of her shoulder. Hopping back, Kitsondra could feel blood tricking down her arm. Turning from the view of the others, so that it looked as though she didn't want them to see her as weak. The truth was she didn't want them to see the wound heal up.

"Ah dam, I really wish this was a great sword... thing might go smoother then."




Zenh and Neun took up the flaming-swordsman's challenge. As Neun leaped at him, Zenh followed behind, focusing on using his speed to come up on the flame warrior's left flank. The whizzes of an arrow through the air cause him to stop in his tracks though. Having learned the lesson through Drei, Zenh took no chances and instantly flattened his body. His ears joined suit as an arrow flew by, inches passed them. Growling, he looked up to see who had shot the arrow. He soon focused on an armored crossbow wielder. Zenh noticed however, Drei and Vier headed towards him. Thankfully so, as this allowed him to help Neun. Turning back to the flame warrior, Zenh continued his flank.




black knight 1234567 -> RE: The Hallows Inn (1/28/2016 19:00:25)

It all happened in a flurry. One moment Sorlan was surrounded by two beasts, their growls and unearthly voices growing louder with each passing moment.

Rawr
A lunge. Fast, agile, claws pointing his way. Pin him down and maul him over as he's unable to fight back, but such tactics would not work on a bloodied monster hunter.
A fast pirouette, pivoting to the far right of the fox. A fight to him was a dance, less about brutality and more about grace and finesse. Visibility low, but nonetheless intuition and instinct take precedence . An opening, a clean strike with the man's blade would cut the creature's head clean off, but that's when he remembered it was not a fair fight. The same hellish noises were coming from his flank, a compromising position to be in. It was a matter of deciding which limb mattered more to him during the fight, his arm or leg. He turned around once more, holding his non dominant hand up in the air, hoping to wrestle to the fox down once it grasped its prey.

Until he heard the whir that is. Unmistakable, a bolt flying through the air shredding any resistance it meets the same way it tears through flesh and bone, and it was then that opportunity presented itself. The creature that was flanking Sorlan instinctively laid flat on the ground, losing its offensive stance. The creature circled some more, trying to catch Sorlan off guard but he was prepared. This was the overture.

Fire is too inconvenient, it'd burn the tied down elf beneath him. They needed light.
He raised his hand in the direction of the fox facing him, unleashing incandescent rays towards its cone of vision, temporarily forcing it to scatter away, his grasp on his blade strengthened as he pivoted out of the range of the other canine, ending up at its side. With one fell swoop of his blade, a downwards strike, steel met flesh as its head flew clean off. The end of the dance.




Master K -> RE: The Hallows Inn (1/29/2016 12:39:28)

Leaving the tranquility of The Hallows, Marcelline had unknowingly walked out in to a battlefield.

She noticed an unfamiliar warrior with their weapon wreathed in flame fighting off foxes made from pure shadow. There were some people in this battle that she did not recognize, like the warrior with the flaming weapon. They stood out quite well, wearing a brilliant white coat and dress ensemble, along with the telltale ears of an elf. And...a giant insect of some sort? Another mysterious masked warrior was also present. Among them, she noticed Sorlan and Sera on the battlefield. Marcelline's head spun, somewhat dazed and confused as to what exactly was happening. She turned her eyes to the main attraction, Kitsondra. She was facing off against a tall man in white...and not doing so well. As Marcelline turned to observe them, she saw wind crescents fly off and destroy some of the landscape, and Kitsondra take a glance to the shoulder and spill blood.

"Oh no..." She said to herself. "I've got to do something!"

Marcelline started to slowly walk towards them, trying to form a plan. For a brief moment she clutched the dagger and wand, and began to direct her hex towards the white garbed aggressor. Instead of feeling the power through the branch, she also felt the power in the dagger. A sort of...pain. A yearning. Marcelline had only felt her witchcraft conduct through her branch, but now her twisted dagger was resonating. However, this resonance was not normal...it was though it was seeking violence. She stopped, somewhat confused at this new sensation.

"That dream...my items turned in to those creatures."
Marcelline thought. "Perhaps...the demon that was once a part of Istarelle is now in this dagger..."

Marcelline held up the dagger. There was no doubt, she could feel its dark energies within it. It was aggressive, violent, and it wanted to revel in battle. The dagger wanted to taste blood. Marcelline looked to her hand, and slowly began to take off her glove. The dark, ashen scars on her hands burned, and saw faint crimson running through the marks. She felt her actions being somewhat detached from her own will. She slowly placed her bare hand over the blade of the dagger, feeling the beckon of the dagger.

"I wouldn't possibly-" She briefly thought.

Before she could react, she had swiftly jerked her hand across the blade, coating it in blood. She winced and pressed her hand in to a fist, using some of her healing magic to try and stop the blood from pouring out of the open gash on her palm. She looked down at the bloody knife in surprise. The blade of the knife had elongated to become the size of a short sword, with its blade curved like a snakes tongue. The blade was now painted in shades of lustrous crimson and violet. She felt a horrible presence from the sword, but at the same time, the blade felt somewhat satiated with her offering. The bleeding on her hand stopped, and she replaced her glove.

"Is this the power of Diavolana?" Marcelline wondered. "I'm really in deep...but Kitsondra looks like she needs help. If anything, perhaps a distraction."

She gave a graceful flick of the blade, sending a few drops of blood to the ground. The very weapon seemed to bleed. Strengthening her resolve, she rushed to Kistondra's aid.




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