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NinjaClarinet
 
PostPosted: Wed, Mar 20 2013, 18:16 PM 



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Joined: 12 Jul 2010

After the disaster that came from opening her mouth, Talyne remains steadfastly silent and sullen, lingering at the back of the group and keeping a keen on their surroundings. She murmurs a True Seeing incantation and every once in a while, her eyes flash an emerald green. The diviner seems intent on trying to decipher the strange place they have found themselves in, as the trials wear on.


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 21 2013, 19:07 PM 

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Joined: 13 Jul 2010
Location: British Columbia

Gehenna...

The scholor's lips would purse together as Nefertari finishes speaking... and he claps the book shut with a resounding thud of finality. The sound is much louder and resonates much deeper than a simple book should, and the sound draws the attention of the Mulharondi warriors in the distance, who previously seemed unaware of the small group of Chosen. Without a second's more of warning, the Mulharondi host turns as one and begins to charge across the sands towards the Chosen!

As they draw closer to the group, the very sands beneath the Chosens' feet begin to tremble, impossibly so, and start shifting almost as though it were quicksand...

Mahir's words however seem to draw the scholar's attention, and at the mention of the soldiers themselves, the Mulan host stops in its tracks as the scholar bows to the group, the sands once again calming below their feet. Our general has indeed won a great victory for the Eight, but the tallest palm owes life to its roots. So shall it be written.

With that last utterance, the entirety of the scene fades away, leaving behind only a darkened room.

Ma'at. It is you... This time the voice sounds much closer, and a bit more aware, as though the speaker were just beginning to wake from some dreary dream.

The staff no longer gives any indication to them, but it seems evident by now that they have nearly reached their destination. Turning the corner out of the temple they now see that the city around them appears to have been entirely overrun by nature, thick plants and decayed husks of buildings evident all around them; even the sky itself has darkened as though something stops the light of Horus-Re from shining through as it should. Cresting the final rise, they finally reach the city's heart... and are met with a sight that may well freeze the blood in their veins.

A throne of half-molten basalt, easily as tall as three men, rests at the center of a small plateau, looking out over the ruined city and fitted perfectly to that throne sits a massive, ebon-skinned man with a jackal's head. Perhaps oddly, he wears little more than a loin cloth and none of the trappings which adorn depictions of the other Mulharondi deities and as you look more carefully you note that the arms and foot of the throne seem to have partially melted over the creature's wrists and ankles... as though to trap him.

All around the perimeter of the plateau stand not eight but ten small pyramids, equidistant from each other, and it is two of these which the Chosen approach from between. The pyramids show much the same decay as the other structures in the city, but a careful observer would still be able to note that each one holds runes or symbology reminiscent of the Eight Mulharondi gods... as well as the ninth bearing a simple feather motif. The tenth pyramid, the one directly behind the throne, seems much more thoroughly ruined than the rest, perhaps even having suffered intentional damage rather than only the decay of ages, and any symbology seems to have been marred beyond recognition.

The ground beneath their feet appears to their eyes to be only semi-solid, though it feels beneath their feet every bit as solid as the cobbles upon which they walked before. To the eyes however, it seems as though the ground of the plateau writhes gently just beneath the surface, as though it were somehow alive.

As the Chosen approach, the eyelids of the towering figure upon the throne open to reveal eyes of solid jet which slowly lift to regard them, as though only partially aware of their presence before him. When he speaks however, his voice resounds within the very fiber of their being, as though he speaks not to them, but to their very souls.

Why are you here? Who are you that you know of the Ma'at? His tone is forceful, demanding, yet somehow distant and constrained.


*-*-*-*-*


Nes'ek...

The defenders would get maybe a five minute breather and chance to re-organize, before the attack would begin again in full. Shouts of, HERE THEY COME! sound from both the north and south gate, as the ranks of cannon-fodder demons are sent in once again to smash against the narrow barricades and groups of defenders, no more than a score at a time. For the time being, it would seem that the commanders of the demonic ranks seem to have taken to positions farther away from the battle lines, having learned from the felling of the first Nycaloth that tried to breach the gates himself.

Darkness still reigns over the desert as the battle approaches the witching hour, and a sense of tension barely contained can be felt in the very air itself...


//last chance for the Nes'ek folk to ready actions / portray what your character is doing in the "final battle" before all hell breaks loose ;)


 
      
GreatPigeon
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 21 2013, 20:22 PM 

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Joined: 04 May 2009
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Mahir the usually stoic warrior trembles in the presence of the deity and he steps uncomfortable, shifting his weight often on the ground below him. However constrained or once forgotten such a deity may be the Sekhry still has some sense of reverence and fear. When he speaks he does so with open palms and his voice catches a few times at firsts before regaining the powerful timbre and set jaw near the conclusion.

"We are here thi-this day at the bequest of your daugh-daughter. We are the hand-hand-picked and Chosen of Ma'at, your blessed daughter, whom loves you so deeply. Our purpose is not hidden, LordAnubis. We come not to slaughter your followers or cause needless blood to shed even in this dark Plane you have made your own existence and home. We come with pure heats and because of her unfathomably deep love for you, to bring you out of this temptation, to lead you from this trespass against your own people- your own flesh and blood, and bring about Cosmic Harmony and redemption not through violent measures but through her caring embrace and compassion for your misplaced ire."

_________________
The Peacock wrote:
[GreatPigeon] is better than me.


Uncle-Opustus wrote:
Just before I fall asleep, I like to pretend it's just a public feat so Pigeon can succeed in politics and save the world from poverty... with his unicorn and shining armour and Excalibur.


 
      
Remal
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 21 2013, 20:49 PM 

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Joined: 12 Feb 2011
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"All non-combatants and those too wounded to fight should be evacuated to Kohlingen. Also, I believe Temple of Kelemvor is far better tactical solution, though it is, in any case, no retreat option. Splitting defenses between two temples is unwise, though I understand your eagerness to protect Temple of your faith. I'd probably do the same. Also, my and Knights will help with defenses of the south side, splitting us won't do much good." answers Malatril, and then turns to his knights
"All right folks! This is it! Casters, call your golems and prepare last enchantments you have. Archers, stop anyone who tries to sneak by the main defenses, and keep eye on that jackal-mage! Front-liners, cover each other and if enemy breaches perimeter, fall back to Temple of Kelemvor! Make bastards pay for every step!"

_________________
"A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." - Antoine de Saint-Exupry


 
      
Revak
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 21 2013, 22:26 PM 

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Joined: 20 Nov 2010
Location: Inside a Magic Bag full of True Strike Potions

After Ania's leg is seen to and appropriately bandaged and cleansed, she'd eagerly rejoin the ranks of her fellow knights just in time to see to her own enchantments and if necessary any of her comrades beside her. As she readied her magnificent blade Hope along with her sturdy shield Bastion, she'd look over to Malatril as he spoke. With a slight raise in her own spirits, she raises her voice just enough so the knights could hear her over the frantic last minute preperations and battle formations.

"For the Order! For the Foehammer! Let's punt these bastards back into whatever piss-pit they crawled out of!"

_________________
Image
Thanks, Boots!


 
      
Naivatkal
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 21 2013, 22:47 PM 

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Hearing of the War Knights arrival, and seeing the wounded were not as bad off as she feared at present, the sole Sharessin in all the town rushed out to the barricades. She arrived upon seeing Ania's injured leg, a cry of surprise, tinged with fear for her somewhat adopted daughter, and she sped up quickly. Skidding to a halt on her knees, Salema surveyed the damage and treatments given. Brace yourself dear! Without sparing other words yet the young Mulan cast first a spell of Mending to repair the armor, thereby serving to pull the clamped metal from the wound, and she quickly recited a prayer of Heal to repair the damage underneath. It was, perhaps, a bit of a case of overheal in this instant but it was clear she would take no chance. Salema hugged Ania fiercely after, stroking her hair briefly Damnit, be careful! she scolded her, though gently, before Malatril began to speak.

A nod of reply foreshadowed the kiss she placed on Ania's hair as she squeezed her gently. She pushed up, gravitating towards a rock and sitting on it as she idly dusted herself off. There was a lull, and it was night. It seemed a fitting time to pray. The armored Sharessin began to whisper softly, her words nearly lost on the breeze of night, then slowly increasing in volume. In Mulhorandi she praised Bast, invoking Her name and calling for Her divine gifts, her voice soft and soothing with a light musical quality to her words. Once finished her chocolate eyes were clear and less troubled, a smile quirking her lips despite the feeling of foreboding. She was at peace, refreshed but the brief time that allowed her to pray to her goddess. It is time. she said to nobody in particular.

It was then that she clothed herself in the divine touch of Sharess' spells. Salema called them down steadily, eschewing the wand of Haste she normally used to speed the progress. She wanted to experience the flow of those warm energies flowing through her body, rushing from the heavens to wrap her in Sharess' protective embrace like a lover. Personal spells of True Seeing and Spell Resistance and the maximized ability spells of the bull, bear, and eagle. She cast a spell of magical vestments on her armor and one to protect her from negative energies and another to ward her from death. And last a shield of her faith to bolster her defenses from attacks as well. All of her spells, save those maximized, were extended with the precision she always used in preparation for battle, eschewing no safety for herself. After all, should she fall who would be there to help her friends and comrades? Her spells of Bless were saved for when she knew better were people would fight, for she had three anyways and they lasted a while. Improved Invisibility, extended of course, was saved until battle was imminent to ensure those around her could see her.

Sharess! O Bast! Send me a champion in Your blessed name! she cried out to the heavens, her arms outstretched over her head in a beseeching pose. Briefly the ground next to her shook, the shock emanating only several feet away, and a celestial gate formed as a ray of holy light slammed down to herald the arrival of her calling. From the gateway stepped a glorious figure, an angel carved from Beauty Itself with feathered wings sprouted from her back and two deadly longswords are her sides.

Salema smiled to the Arcadian, aptly charged as an Avenger, and, in a way that a friend would, caressed the Arcadian's pauldron
Thank you for coming to my call again, my friend. I can only be more thankful that I have to beseech your aid so rarely. We are charged with a solemn duty, dear Arcadian, that we fight and defend those that cannot defend themselves. There is a great evil trying to beset these lands and the world beyond them. My friends have gone to Gehenna to stop it, but we must help these people stave off a horde of demons. at the mention of demons the Arcadian's eyes hardened, and though still utterly beautiful her visage held steel behind it for those that sought the sight, and Salema nodded slightly, We will protect these people. The ones not fighting will go to Kohlingen, the holy city on the island of Amia, and we will hold our ground here. We must be quick and careful. Stay close to me, please do not go too far. I will need your protection as well. We will help them hold, but I may need to tend to the injured as well. You can help to stave them off as I treat and help to rescue those I can.

The Arcadian looked at her for a moment, having digested all she had said, and nodded solemnly. Your task is my task, child of Sharess. You ask less than what I can fully give, yet you will have all that I can give to you. These demons will fall to my blades and the magic of your goddess. We will protect these people. I will not fail you. Salema smiled warmly and nodded quickly as the longswords were unleashed from their scabbards. Quickly Salema lent her energies again, summoning spells to bolster the Arcadian's defenses and also to sheathe a blade in electricity. Salema added a spell to increase her own wisdom after handing over some potions to further empower the Arcadian, finally casting a few more wards on her summon and then enchanting her own staff with as a greater magic weapon.

She beckoned, intent to follow the others, when she was gently stopped by the Arcadian. Looking back, the Sharessin watched as the winged beauty first blessed her own weapon and then Salema's staff. For good measure. the Arcadian nodded, earning a wider smile and nod from her charge as the staff glowed with divine light before they headed off.

_________________
Whomst've'll'd'mn't I play:
Salema Nefahri :: A penny for your thots
Zrae'a'stra'fryn :: That which nightmares are made of
Khasir :: From the East a storm is coming


 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 21 2013, 23:07 PM 

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Marcus gives Malatril a short nod. "Tempus watches, Knight. Let us prove ourselves worthy of his favor. Sol Invictus"
--
The Sunmaster then takes to a knee and lowers his head solemnly - reaffirming his vows as Sunmaster to serve Amaunator in all things and oppose the god's enemies with all might of true law. Taking a few sips from a canteen and quickly devouring a few morsels of food on the way, he then returns to the northern barricades, collecting Simon, Adoster and his celestial champion along the way.

When he arrives, he climbs the barricade to stand on top, the ancient sun-symbol pendant radiating bright light - practically and symbolically driving away the darkness wherever Marcus walks. He slowly trails his gaze over the surging horde for a long moment, and then speaks, his voice filled with renewed determination.

"What a miserable sight. Is -this- all there is? Is this rabble of vermin all that they can muster? Is the sound of their wailing intended to fill me with fear?!"

He then turns and speaks directly to the gathered ranks, gesturing back towards the horde with his staff.

"It fills me with nothing but righteous fury and contempt. These .. things -dare- to assault our walls again? They -dare- to challenge us on our own world?!

Taking a few steps down to stand before the assembled ranks, he speaks again.

"My brothers and sisters in arms. I would pity their efforts, if demons deserved such things. Here I see mere handfuls of my kin standing against thousands of demons, and in the past hours they have not broken trough our meager defenses once.

Make no mistake. This struggle is far from over. But every moment that follows dawn is closer. These creatures cannot stand under the full might of His gaze. We need but hold until then. This barricade is but our first line. Be prepared to withdraw to the temples. Their hallowed grounds will allow no demon to pass.

They may break our walls. They may break our shields. They may rend our flesh and draw our blood.
But they cannot break our spirits! We stand together, tall and proud. Our cause is true and our will is strong. Trust in your kin, and trust in yourself. Here we make our stand, defenders of Ne'sek and Djedet. We shall stand, and we shall prevail. "


He then raises his staff high, the swirling sun-symbol on it visible to all.

To the dawn! For Djedet! For Ne'sek!"

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
NinjaClarinet
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 21 2013, 23:26 PM 



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Joined: 12 Jul 2010

Ghenna
-------


The young druid emerges from the rear of the gathering, brushing a hand lightly over Mahir's shoulder and she makes her way past him. Her expression is one of reverence and terror, and her steps are slow over the shifting ground, but she makes her way to the very base of the throne, with no weapons or spells to be found. She studies the deity and molten throne with a mix of raw fear and awe, though unashamed of her curiosity...or perhaps has just lost her mind. The aasimar's voice quavers, and is painfully slow to the ears, but she persists;

"In my own small, mortal way, I think I understand. I can grasp the pain of being forcefully separated by the people you once loved, and were loved by. I can grasp the frustration of being bound to a place by Duty, even though your desires lie elsewhere."

Her gaze lingers at the demigod's wrists, bound by his own seat of power.

"In my own small way, I know the pain of being forgotten. The despair that comes with knowing that you're no longer needed by the people you served with love. The rage that comes with being Judged by the things you must do. Worst yet...I think I can understand the hurt that comes with knowing you may not even be wanted, should you try to make yourself remembered again."

Her gaze then goes to his pyramid, scarred and decayed.

"I know the self-hatred that comes with these feelings. And I know how that self-hatred can turn outwards. How hard it is not to lash out and burn the world for being unappreciative. What I couldn't possibly imagine, though, Lord of Jackals, is those feelings left unanswered and allowed to fester for a thousand thousand years. I don't have the wisdom to know how to soothe those hurts. So I ask...how is this all made right? How do we atone for forgetting, how can we free you from the anger and hate? The Chosen stand ready to do this for you."

With that, the Mulhorandi woman takes a knee at the base of the throne, resting a hand over the feather etched into her breast, praying for strength.


 
      
Silent2001
 
PostPosted: Sat, Mar 23 2013, 16:12 PM 

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Adoster would be sat a short distance from the northern wall re-cooperating following the first assault. As Marcus begins to speak he would rejoin what remains of his squad and resume leadership. The battle is clearly taxing on the aging gent's body.

_________________
Image<3 Maryn
We are going to die and that makes us the lucky ones.


 
      
666WaysToHell
 
PostPosted: Sun, Mar 24 2013, 5:03 AM 

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In Ghenna.

Aoth looked upon the large figure before him with awe and fear. His fingers drummed his staff nervously as Talyne approached it. His fingers nervously drummed his staff while his companion receded behind him. He kept as calm as one could possibly be prior to a fate, potentially worse than death.

Even as a mage, he gave a quiet prayer to Thoth for protection.

...It was going to be a long time.

_________________
Aoth Nathandem - Wizard of house Tholaunt and chosen of Ma'at.


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 8:01 AM 

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Location: British Columbia

Gehenna…

As the Sekhry approaches, the weight of Anubis’ gaze falls upon him fully, though the forgotten deity seems to at least entertain the notion of hearing what the Chosen have to say.

My people are dead, this once great city is all that remains of them, I have seen this, the Jackal Lord veritably growls between his canines… before pausing. Leaning forward in his seat just slightly, he seems to really see the Chosen for the first time.

Yet you do carry the feather, each of you… his visage softens momentarily.

Then an instant later, he scoffs and raises his chin as he looks down upon them, You are tricksters sent in desperation, you are not even all of the same race. You are foreign to me and I will not be swayed from my path of cleansing.

When Talyne prostrates herself, the Jackal’s gaze shifts to her, perhaps sending her a bit lower to the ground by reflex.

My only desire is to see the home of my people restored. His visage remains a hardened, resolute mask as he speaks. I will be known again and feared as I once was.

But then the faintest crack of confusion shows on his face, glancing at the pyramids around them all, But fear was not my rod…

Then the deity looks back to the druidess, …perhaps the ages have clouded my memories. But then his gaze narrows, No, that is not possible, we feel not the effects of time on mind or body. Only your presence could explain this, like a poison working its way through the veins of this city, seeping into its heart.

The young woman's eyes would widen briefly and, and she shifts to get her feet back under her, fingers tightening around her staff. It's not -our- venom that corrupts you, m'lord. We've been sent by your own daughter to cleanse the viper's poison. Can you not feel Her among us? Can you not see the coils about you?

The basalt stone of the throne seems to somehow shift as they watch, tightening itself further around the forgotten deity, constricting just a bit more as if possessive of him. The Jackal Lord however seems not to register this change, focused more on the green feathers which rest on the skin of each of the Chosen.

She is so far away… it has been an age since I have heard her… his tone of voice would have returned to one of confused contemplation, as he seems to wake further from whatever miasma grips him. I scarcely recall our time together… it was taken from me, trapped in stone… but then the grinding of teeth can be heard as he trails off into a new thought, Trapped when Osiris stole my memory from the people and banished me to be forgotten!

At this sudden outburst from the wakening deity, the ground beneath their feet would shift much as the throne had done, seeming to constrict inward beneath the solid veneer on which they stand. Something seems to writhe below, and Anubis’ gaze shifts to rest on Imhotep, seeming to sense precisely who it is the priest serves.

As the ground begins to constrict and writhe, the druidess seems to have trouble rising from her knees to her feet. Plainly terrified, she snatches for her ritual athame with her free hand, still trying to use her staff to push herself up. She calls out to Mahir behind her, her voice wavering; Sehkry, the gems...you have to get the intact ones to Anubis! The Throne is the source of his torment, it's the link that must be severed. From her precarious position, the girl begins to try and forge a connection to nature and her Goddess so that their power is readily available as needed, her brow beading with sweat as she tries to work through the dimension's alien nature.

And with that, Anubis emits a low growl from somewhere deep within, as though preparing to deal with the brazen intruders.

But perhaps most disturbing of all… the growl holds an undertone that sounds more akin to the hiss of a snake…


Actions of Talyne posted in conjunction with NinjaClarinet.
*-*-*-*-*


Nes’ek…

With the completion of the Teleportation Circle within the Cathedral, the Djedet refugees who could not join the defensives lines are ushered through in groups of threes and fours, a steady stream being whisked away to far away Kohlingen.

The defenders themselves rally around the War Knights in the south, and the Cordorians in the north as the demons begin slamming against the barricades. The fighting is intense, far more so than previously, and it is only through the bolstered numbers that Nes’ek isn’t completely overrun in that initial push.

With more stable footing, Djedet militia fighting alongside Nes’ek militia alike, begin taking a toll on any yugoloth that tries to push through the line, two of three men working in combination to fell one of the great hounds here, or bug-like Mezzoloths there… but for ever demon felled in tandem, one of the defenders is injured, and it becomes clear that with much of their magical might spent in the first attack, it will become a battle of attrition soon enough.

Minutes go by that seem like hours, War Knight steel meeting yugoloth chitin and shining Vanguard shields bashing Cannoloth teeth… before the lighting suddenly shifts behind the defensive lines.

A startled cry goes up here and there from those defenders stationed on watch within the town itself, or around the two temples, as a great disk seems to yawn into being at the centre of the town, some hundred or more feet in the air. Ringed in churning gray-yellow light, the Gate immediately begins to spew forth a far greater threat to the defenders, as several new forms exit the downward-facing portal on great bat-like wings.

The Nycaloths have come to join the fray…


 
      
666WaysToHell
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 8:10 AM 

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The Scrivener looks up to Talyne, then he looks to Mahir. Uttering a quick word, he enchants the Sekhry (and the rest of the group) with Mass Haste and the Sekhry is given the spell of Freedom, enabling him to get to the throne quickly and unhindered.

_________________
Aoth Nathandem - Wizard of house Tholaunt and chosen of Ma'at.


 
      
CelestialDante
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 10:31 AM 

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Imhotep is wary of Anubis and keeps a close eye on what the god will do. He has no fear in his eyes as he meets Anubis' gaze. His faith and zeal forming his strong will. He only knows that he may be the first perhaps only target of Anubis' rage, and he must be careful. He extends his arms aside to show he himself means no harm.

Turning his head to Mahir:

"Quickly now Sehkry"

Upon hearing the hiss he looks back out the corner of his eye to Anubis.

_________________
Sir Azeriel El'johnson - Tormtar and Triadic Knight


 
      
Gers
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 11:39 AM 

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As soon as it appears Anubis is about to go on the attack and the Scrivener casts his haste, Jud would cast his mass heroism spell, and then address Anubis, attempting to provide a distraction:

If we are a poison sent to your city, explain how our actions were against the spirit and law of Ma'at, great one? I have no doubt you see most that transpires in this, your realm. Is not right by Ma'at that the slave's fate be determined by the church of the gods that oversee him? Is it wrong for the man who has done nothing but take and use to have to give back in return, for his own spiritual growth? Was it wrong that the inheritance of the wife be her's to direct, by the wish of the deceased, instead of one it was not granted to? I posit, Lord of Jackals, that it is not our actions that are poisoning your city, but our actions that reveal those of another... your true enemy, and the one who hid the decay from your eyes. The foe of both you, and of your noble daughter. Listen well for the hidden hiss of the lowly serpent!

_________________
Image
Named Most Influential Character, Amia Awards 2011


 
      
GreatPigeon
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 12:11 PM 

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The Sekhry instead of rushing directly for the Throne turns to his side to help Talyne up. As soon as he roughly hauls her to her feet and makes sure she is stable he turns and heads toward the throne with the spells and encouragement from the others he carries the gems in a pouch at his belt, his weapon sheathed, and out loud he quickly speaks the divine lines from the Ma'at. As each verse is spoken that line of scripture as it were began to glow green upon his armor.

_________________
The Peacock wrote:
[GreatPigeon] is better than me.


Uncle-Opustus wrote:
Just before I fall asleep, I like to pretend it's just a public feat so Pigeon can succeed in politics and save the world from poverty... with his unicorn and shining armour and Excalibur.


 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 12:58 PM 

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At the cries of alarm, Marcus looks over to the center of town. Though he has thus far seemed supremely confident and determined, what he sees appearing the center of the town seems enough to give even the Sunmaster pause. "So soon..." He looks between the nearby barricade and the struggling defenders, and the sudden arrival of the nycaloths a long, calculating moment and then turns back to the barricades, smashing the fiery end of his staff into the head of the nearest demon.

"The time has come to adapt! Ne'sek, disengage and reinforce the temple of Lathander. Keep our path of retreat open. Djedet and Vanguard, close ranks and hold your ground. Prepare to disengage in good order!
He directs the Vanguard and warriors of Djedet to give the warriors of Ne'sek the chance to withdraw to the temple, lashing out with his staff and shield - and taking his own share of punishment. When the warriors of Djedet have broken free and established a semblance of a defense at the temple, he similarly commands the warriors of Ne'sek to withdraw - and orders the remaining Vanguard and his celestial champion to rally to him. When the last of Djedet's soldiers have withdrawn, Marcus utters a prayer and wall of blades is conjured onto the barricade - vigorously slashing, tearing and piercing the demons as they claw their way over the barricade.

"Vanguard, close and withdraw!" He then leads the few soldiers remaining at the wall, his own Vanguard and dragging any of the Khemites too stubborn to have withdrawn with their kin along, directing his champion to straggling demons that happen to find their way trough or around the barrier. Upon arriving at the steps of the temple, he grabs one of the militia and tells him.. "run to the northern wall. Inform the Knights we have withdrawn from the wall and are holding for their arrival. We need to refocus our defense here. ... Taelstarr, keep those men in formation! Johnsson, get into the temple! Tell the Dawnmaster of our situation. Hold here, defenders of Ne'sek! Hold your ground!

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
Remal
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 20:38 PM 

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Location: Elsewhen

"Warlord, troops from the north gate are falling back! Enemy has breached perimeter!" shouted one of the knights over the din of battle, as first-and only line of War Knights helped militia hold the demon horde from advancing. Malatril spared glance towards the centre of the town, and not much more was needed to spot the new threat.
'"Defenders! Disengage and start falling back towards the Temple of Kelemvor! We'll hold demons off and follow you! Ania, Viridian, start pulling folks back!"' he shouted as his shield smashed away another lesser demon, his blade immediately meeting pincer of another one, severing it in half. "Casters, call your guardian golems! We need to buy time. Archers, focus on those demons in the center of the town! Keep eyes open for caster of that circle and try to take him down!"
With that said, he pressed small trinket he held around the wrist of his shield arm, activating "True seeing" spell. Behind him, chantings of Meesh, Bralor and Devlin could be heard, and soon, three Geared Guardians appeared, taking over holes in defenses that soon started to appear as Ania and Viridian started ushering defenders in organized column towards the temple, keeping watch on the demons in the center of the town and ready to intercept them if they decided to strike at retreating troops.

_________________
"A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." - Antoine de Saint-Exupry


 
      
CelestialDante
 
PostPosted: Mon, Mar 25 2013, 20:43 PM 

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GreatPigeon wrote:
The Sekhry instead of rushing directly for the Throne turns to his side to help Talyne up. As soon as he roughly hauls her to her feet and makes sure she is stable he turns and heads toward the throne with the spells and encouragement from the others he carries the gems in a pouch at his belt, his weapon sheathed, and out loud he quickly speaks the divine lines from the Ma'at. As each verse is spoken that line of scripture as it were began to glow green upon his armor.


Realising the words Mahir speaks, Imhotep would join him in chorus. Looking to the others he encourages them to join them.

_________________
Sir Azeriel El'johnson - Tormtar and Triadic Knight


 
      
Silent2001
 
PostPosted: Tue, Mar 26 2013, 2:39 AM 

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The paladin would heed his superiors words and begin to call for a tactical withdrawal at the northern gates. He would invoke an aura of glory in an attempt to settle any battle nerves cropping up in his troop and slowly but surely begin the withdrawal to the temple. He would keep one eye on the sky as he engages the onslaught of fiends from the northern wall, opting now to begin using his divine shield and might blessings.

_________________
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We are going to die and that makes us the lucky ones.


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Wed, Mar 27 2013, 20:40 PM 

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Gehenna…

Jud’s words, combined with the recitation of the Ma’at by the Sekhry and Imhotep seem to melt some of Anubis’ ire as he watches Mahir’s cautious approach. The Chosen can almost see as all of the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit into place in the awakening mind of the previously lost deity… but would it prove enough?

Whether it is the approach of the gemstones the warrior carries, or the connection between the druidess and the strange realm, the throne would begin to stir. Though it would seem to happen almost in slow motion, the reality would be that it is only a tightly gripping fear, rooting the Chosen in place, which makes it seem so.

For it quickly becomes apparent that the throne is not a throne at all, as blocky basalt begins to crack and twist in places… no, you realize, that isn’t right. The stone constricts exactly as a snake would and as the dark stony texture of the basalt gradually gives way to a smooth shimmering scaly texture, the true horror of what the Chosen face becomes apparent. It is not basalt which had melted around the wrists and ankles of the Lord of Jackals, not a throne upon which he sat, but the tightly coiled body of a great serpent.

The hooded head of that serpent slowly rises above that of the Jackal, and you can only guess that the avatar must be tens of meters long, the thickest part of its body easily the width of a half-dozen men. And though Anubis, now fully realizing the reality of his long slumber, begins to struggle against the avatar of his captor, it quickly becomes apparent that he no longer has the strength to truly defy the Lord of Serpents’ grasp.

Rising some twenty feet above the half-sitting form of Anubis, the great serpent’s head begins to sway gently back and forth… back and forth… back and forth… and gradually, so does each of the Chosen as they become entranced by the dark majesty of the avatar before them.


But through the thickening, cold fog of Set’s influence, a warmth begins to grow within each of them, a reminder from afar, little more than a pinprick of power in this awful realm… but it is enough. The feathers of Ma’at on each of the Chosens’ forms begins to grow itchy… then warm… warmer, and finally a scalding stab of pain shoots through them, the good kind of pain that snaps them out of their trance and brings them spiraling back into the now.

And as they startle to awareness once again, they find that the scene around them has changed. Drasticly.

The sky above their heads is now black as night, no sign of sun or moon or even stars, the only illumination coming from the single green feather on each of their bodies. That light is enough however to show them that the ground beneath them, is now in fact aroundthem, having sunken partially into the mass of what they can now make out to be writhing snakes of all colors and sizes. The snakes are too tightly packed to try to bite the Chosen, but they cling and grasp and constrict, trying to keep them mired where they “stand”.

All of the Chosen seem to have taken several steps towards the two avatars, as though they were drawn to the great serpent as it entranced them, and the Sekhry even finds that his hand which holds the pouch of gemstones was outstretched; not towards Aubis, but towards Set.

The light from the feathers seemed to have momentarily stunned the massive, hooded snake at the same moment it snapped the Chosen out of their trance… but that momentary reprieve quickly fades and the creature’s hood opens as it emits a sibilant hiss of anger. The “frills” of the hood split apart and the previously ordinary (if massive) snake shows it’s truly unnatural nature as its hood splits into dozens of “smaller” serpents, attached to the side of its neck, each one easily the size of a full grown man.

Rearing back, its mouth opening slightly to permit its forked tongue to lick at the air, the avatar of Set prepares to strike…


//The Chosen cannot move at present, but can otherwise act however they wish (which includes trying to free their legs from the snake/ground/mass if they want.


*-*-*-*-*


Nes’ek

Nycaloth’s swoop down from on high as the Nes’ek defenders begin an orderly retreat, the much more numerous lesser yugoloths keeping the pressure up from the two town gates. The yawning doorway at the center of the town continues to spew more and more of the winged beasts, staying open for what seems like an eternal two or three minutes, before finally collapsing in on itself as the light within the town returns to the normal. If normal were comprised of guttering torches punctuated by blasts of searing fire and bolts of blueish energy…

As the defensive formation is established around the Temple of Lathander by the northern defenders and the entrance to the Temple of Kelemvor by the southern, the Nycaloths begin to circle… before swooping down in one mass of wings, arms and axes as they descend towards the ranks of the defenders beginning their retreat from the front lines.

They seem to break into two groups as they near the ground, swooping in at dizzying speeds towards the north and south gates… winging upward just shy of smashing into the humans and lizardfolk there.

Right next to Meesh, one of the defenders suddenly “disappears” from the line as the unfortunate man is snatched up by one of the Nycaloths, who tosses the man high into the air, letting him fall to the ground with a sickening crunch. Another of the beasts swoops in directly towards Bralor, but one of the Silverscale warriors crashes into it at the last moment, sending the creature tumbling into the defenders, injuring many with its mere weight before being hacked down by the remainder of the War Knights and a few militia stragglers.

Adoster is perhaps the more unfortunate of the defenders, having fought side-by-side with Qeb, Djedet’s guard captain, for much of the battle. Turning to dispatch another Cannoloth hound before it can grab one of the Nes’ek militia in its jaws, Adoster is hit not with the flying bulk of a Nycaloth, but with the wet spray of gore. Turning to view the source, he is just in time to see the dutiful Qeb, great-axe half-burried in his chest, bodily lifted into the air by the Nycaloth at the other end of the axe… before the beast shakes off the “clinging mass”, tossing the guard’s body into the midst of the yugoloth horde to be fed upon. Seeing their beloved captain so savagely and easily slaughtered, the northern defenders begin to quaver, until Adoster bolsters their courage with his calming aura, managing deal a crippling blow to the leg of another swooping Nycaloth.

With the ordered retreat to the temple on in full, Marcus soon finds that the ranks of defenders thin around him and that it is his turn to make a hasty path towards the temple… until he feels himself lifted bodily into the air by two chorded arms as big around as the priest’s legs. Barely able to react in time to get his own arms up defensively, the Nycaloth begins clawing viciously at the man with its other two hands, trying to tear into his neck as they swing and swoop through the air about the ranks of combatants. Despite Marcus’ best efforts, the much stronger yugoloth soon has both hands around the priest’s neck, slowly and maliciously choking the life from him… and then beginning to smolder. As Marcus begins to lose consciousness from the chokehold, he feels his eyes well up with a burning intensity he’s not felt before as he stares into the hate-filled eyes of his would-be killer. Without a moment’s warning, the Nycaloth suddenly bursts into blinding yellow-white flames, searing every part of it and causing it to let go of Marcus in its surprise… sending him flying off to crash against the side wall of Lathander’s temple (and the surprised militia men that were between it and him).

As the Nycaloth retreats towards “friendly” lines, the fire only intensifies into an all-consuming flame and without preamble, the vile beast simply drops from the sky like a flaming arrow, diving into the midst of the yugoloth ranks, immolating a few of its fellows. Though the spectacle is great, Marcus would stand from the jumble of defenders near the temple, to find that he seems to be blind in the wake of… whatever just happened.

Arrows wiz after the swooping Nycaloths as they continue to cleave, grab and toss their way through the defending ranks, a few even finding purchase, but it becomes clear that their disruptive presence may have won the day for Anubis’ forces even if the Nycaloths themselves don’t. For in the wake of the retreat to the two temples, the remainder of the great host begins spilling into Nes’ek like maggots spilling from an open corpse.

Perhaps that is exactly what Nes'ek now is...


 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Wed, Mar 27 2013, 21:32 PM 

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His ancient armor ravaged by the claws of the nycaloth, Marcus is slow to recover and try and climb back to his feet - letting out an audible grunt of pain when he tries to do so, quickly wrapping his arm around his chest. Having been so violently thrown into the temple wall, it would not be difficult to surmise that the man suffered at least some broken ribs. Judging from the trickle of blood spilling out of the edges of the ornate sun-mask, he might have suffered more than a few broken bones as well.

When he manages to push himself up, he walks around aimlessly in shock for a moment, before pausing as the reality of his blindness begins to set in - causing him to reach for his face with a barely audible "my lord?".

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
666WaysToHell
 
PostPosted: Wed, Mar 27 2013, 21:52 PM 

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Assuming he is still in range of the other chosen, the Scrivener enchants those closest to him with Freedom, save for Mahir, who had earlier received the spell. Summoning his shield guardian, he orders the massive construct to stomp on the snakes, and clear a path out. Should it fail, he'd otherwise order the summon to let the chosen clasp and hang on to it's large frame as it walked them over the snakes with relative ease.

_________________
Aoth Nathandem - Wizard of house Tholaunt and chosen of Ma'at.


 
      
GreatPigeon
 
PostPosted: Wed, Mar 27 2013, 23:36 PM 

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Being awakened from the mesmerizing lull of Set by the Goddess Ma'ats power, Mahir is quick to redirect his attention toward the Avatar of Set before him. Being closest to the avatar from among the Chosen, he is rightfully in his dutiful place as the leader of the assembled and as a sworn Anhurran and protector of the people.

He would look to make sure his wife was okay first and then without anger the Sekhry draws the Khopesh of Ma'at. Its feather etched hilt and blade reflecting the green glow from his chest. The draw is quick and if it were not for the snakes hissing all around them the gentle rasp of metal leaving leather would have been heard. He reaches high and points the blade directly toward the snout of the Avatar of Set and then shakes the bag of gems held in his other hand clenched tightly in-between his palm and the shield.

While looking directly toward the snakes eyes and trusting in his unshakable faith in the Eight; specifically Anhur as well as Ma'at, whom grant him the commanding presence among others. He uses a battle-tactic to attempt to draw the ire and attention of the Lord of Lies away from the others and onto himself.

The Sekhry speaks with the most booming voice he can muster, with all the courage he can bring from the inside and direct this faiths and willpower outward.

"Set, you corrupted and vile slithering spawn! Unhand Anubis, whom before your taint had known no transgressions against /His/ people. You coiling Coward!"


Edit: For clarity purposes Vehement Charge, Ordnance Support, and the Custom Aura: Tactical Advance. He had used Entreatment (100+ skill) and Curse Song.

_________________
The Peacock wrote:
[GreatPigeon] is better than me.


Uncle-Opustus wrote:
Just before I fall asleep, I like to pretend it's just a public feat so Pigeon can succeed in politics and save the world from poverty... with his unicorn and shining armour and Excalibur.


 
      
Gers
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 3:05 AM 

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Jud, still being hasted(?), would sing out a high, piercing note, then begin the arcane chant of his curse-song, sending another wave of sonic energy through the nearby serpents, hopefully killing many of them. His second action would be to use his innate ability to create darkness, tossing a wide sphere of it up before Set's face in what'd hopefully be an effective attempt to distract him momentarily.

_________________
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Named Most Influential Character, Amia Awards 2011


 
      
NinjaClarinet
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 4:42 AM 



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Joined: 12 Jul 2010

With the feather-brand over her chest searing her back to reality, the young woman assess the troupe's plight, thrusting her staff deep into the writhing mass to give herself an anchor. She looks between Mahir and the rearing serpent-god, her brow furrowing in frustration. With grim determination, she slashes her palm with her ritual dagger, and a soft white glow begins to envelope the druid. Her voice rings out, the normally mellow alto replaced by the ethereal, strident tone of an incensed Aasimar.

"Muharib Ramathant, you are not going to challenge the Brother of Serpents! Return the Jackal's memories, and let him worry about himself!

With her lifeblood coursing down her arm from the ritual wound, she bends to thrust the appendage into the writhing mass of snakes up to her elbow, her blood rapidly coating and mingling with the endless vermin. A potent spell is cast, sung out in determined Celestial, and the same white radiance spreads through the serpents, enveloping the immediate area and a line leading directly to Anubis. The serpents still and flee from the light, giving Mahir a clear path to the avatar, at least for a moment. The girl glances up, only briefly, tears and sweat pouring from her features from the toll of the mighty spell and the plane's malevolent power. Her voice comes, strained;

“Quickly. This won't hold long.”

((Written in collaboration with Glim. PCs with spellcraft recognize a Planar Perinarch spell))


 
      
GreatPigeon
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 5:03 AM 

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The Sekhry whom possesses a high skill in spellcraft is quick enough to realize the error of his ways. He sprints up the path toward Anubis and Set. He uses the darkness as thrown by Jud to cover his advance.

Mahir begins to cry out for Anubis to listen to him. He continues to go forward and brings the gems as close as he can keeping an eye on the avatar of set preparing himself to get out of its way or to strike defensively should he need to.

"Anubis, reach toward the light and your daughter the beloved Ma'at of /OUR/ people. Shake off the darkness that is the presence of Set. You know what is right. You know the scripture of the Ma'at. Keep your eyes on me. My Armor it glows with her blessings. Fight it! Break your restraints and lash out at the coils about you. None can contain those who truly believe. There is strength in the faith! Fight it! Lord Anubis. God of my people! Fight free of these binds and you can be returned. And your temple not in disarray. Commit yourself, your power unto this endeavor. Your yourself, for your daughter Ma'ay and for /YOUR/ People."
He would then again begin to chant quickly the lines of the Ma'at.

_________________
The Peacock wrote:
[GreatPigeon] is better than me.


Uncle-Opustus wrote:
Just before I fall asleep, I like to pretend it's just a public feat so Pigeon can succeed in politics and save the world from poverty... with his unicorn and shining armour and Excalibur.


 
      
Remal
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 13:51 PM 

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"Archers, concentrate fire on the flyers! Bring them down one by one! Hall, protect Eradiel!" shouted Malatril, as he shield bashed another canoloth aside. Unfortunately, three more lesser demons rushed in, their claws and pincers snapping at his hands and neck. He jumped back, evading the blows, dropping to a kneeling position.
"Outta my way, you scum!" he shouted, as his body erupted in dozens of small lightnings arcing all over him and his blade, him jumping in upward spin, his blade cutting his foes left and right in a fluid whirlwind motion, clearing out immediate area around him and sending surrounding demons reeling for just a moment as he touched the ground.
Keep falling back, but don't let these bastards get too comfortable! This battle has just begun! with those words, he kept slowly moving back, cutting down any demon coming close, glancing towards the sky for any nycaloth trying to swoop close to him.

_________________
"A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." - Antoine de Saint-Exupry


 
      
Naivatkal
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 14:41 PM 

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Being no stranger to combat situations, despite her preference to remain out of them, Salema kept her wits about her as the battle intensified. Bright eyes took in her surroundings, though as she was evaluating which front to aid the gateway suddenly opened from above. With a cry of surprise she took cover, the Arcadian steadfastly watching over her charge. Lacking in martial combat skills, especially against a foe such as demons, she was forced to take refuge behind her spells and summoned protector. Thankfully they were left mostly unmolested, the flying demons taking after more unsuspecting prey, and so she dealt with the aftermath.

To me, Arcadian! came her cry as she ran forward to help those at the barricades. Unable to resist a flinch as the defender's body crunched into the ground she could spare only a sorrowful glance and whispered prayer to Sharess, instead moving on to the gates to tend to the wounded. Healing kits practically teleported into her hands as she worked on those she could, using her considerable healing skills to mend their wounds efficiently, every now and then uttering a simple curative spell, or providing a potion of the same, to aid the recovery and help knit bones faster. Those that could not pull back she would help, sometimes aided by her summon who nonetheless guarded over her with intensity.

As the retreat was sounded, the Sharessin fled back with a heavy heart for those she could not save. Though battle was a beast she had seen before, this was nothing like a hunting party. This was far worse, with no respite and no time for her to gather and save her fallen comrades. She wept every now and then, never letting the tears well up for more than a moment, pushing down her grief for those fallen, for the hatred and misery the demons spread in the face of love and good. It was by the grace of her summon that she survived in time to see Marcus slam into the temple wall, and she sucked in a breath.

Watch over us! Salema called to the Arcadian, who took up a defensive position with the defenders nearby, and Salema rushed over to the man. Marcus! It's Salema, hold still you are injured! she said quickly, though gently, recognizing his trauma. His blindness was quickly evident, and she continued speaking to him calmly as she did her best to keep him near the temple wall. Marcus, listen to me. We need to get you back to safer ground. I can mend your bones, but you must come with me. There is little you can do in this state. The Sharessin kept her composure, speaking softly and soothingly, and reached to him. Her intent would be to restrain him, though gently, trying to get a feel for his broken body. I know this must be frightening, but you must trust me. Let me help you, Marcus, before it is too late.

_________________
Whomst've'll'd'mn't I play:
Salema Nefahri :: A penny for your thots
Zrae'a'stra'fryn :: That which nightmares are made of
Khasir :: From the East a storm is coming


 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 15:09 PM 

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His damaged eyes visible underneath the torn and dented mask, Marcus stubbornly tries to stay upright until his broken body virtually collapses onto Salema, and he can give her little more than a vague nod and a bloody gurgle in response. Though it would be hard to read it from his battered form, the sting to his considerable pride in having to lean on a Sharessan, of all people, was more painful than all the broken bones and torn flesh combined.

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
Naivatkal
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 15:48 PM 

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With a grunt Salema helped to support the Sunmaster's weight, silently thankful for her earlier casting of Bull's Strength. To us, my friend! she called to the Arcadian, who finished decapitating a demon with one sword whilst pulling the other from the gut of another before hurrying over. Before departing, Salema extracted a scroll of Mass Haste, casting the point a short distance away so as to catch the defenders in it but leave herself and Marcus free of the spell's influence.

As quick as she could while keeping Marcus' injuries in mind, and with the Arcadian watching over them and lending a hand here and there, the Mulhorandi woman made their way closer to the Kelemvor church. With the winged summon ever watching for danger, Salema let Marcus rest on a nearby rock as she pulled out a bedroll and set it down before helping him ease onto it. She gave his eyes a brief glance-over, then focused on the rest of his body. What.. happened to your eyes? Was it a demon? she asked gently as she hurriedly sought out any broken bones and other injuries. Do not worry, you're in good hands with me, Sunmaster. she added, her demeanor as calm and reassuring as ever, sounding as if she was incredibly confident in her abilities.

She swore softly in Mulhorandi as she took in his battered body, telling him to hold still and to brace for the pain. Once he was ready she re-set any bones possible, his blindness sparring him from seeing the wince at the sickening sound. After that task was complete, she began to murmur a prayer in Mulhorandi, calling upon Sharess' power to caste a Regeneration spell upon him. She focused it upon his chest and bones, providing him some light pain relief from her kits if he did not refuse it, for there would undoubtedly be pain as they quickly healed.

_________________
Whomst've'll'd'mn't I play:
Salema Nefahri :: A penny for your thots
Zrae'a'stra'fryn :: That which nightmares are made of
Khasir :: From the East a storm is coming


 
      
Mobile_Svensk
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 15:55 PM 

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Location: Awarded most Confused Git of 2014!

Simon Johnsson, One of the vanguard, had the entire battle scurried about casting protective enchantments onto the defenders. Spells such as Improved Invisibility, Ironguts to sheild them from the poisonous attacks of the Hounds or Mass Haste had been cast on regular intervals during the battle. Even a spell of Stoneskin flew about the ranks as he noticed one of the defenders taking to much beating.
The soldier of cordor was doing well, estimating to have saved the lives of at least a dozen of Nes'ek warriors and became more confident as the battle continued.


As the nycaloths came swooping down upon the defenders and throwing them down to their deaths onto the cobblestones or rooftops, simon was struck with panic and launched a volley of three Isaac's greater missile storm's towards the skies, hoping to bring down at least some of the flying monstrosities that swarmed the settlement and brought havoc among the defenders.

He stood with his back turned away from the line of defence and tried to cause as much injury to the airborn monsters as possible, burning through his usable spells in a rapid speed. As he saw marcus picked up, his leader and inspiration, and thrown to the ground soon after the nycaloth burst into flames - he gasped in terror and screamed out his sorrow. He believed his commander had fallen in battle!

Simon literally FILLED the skies and nearby demons with Magical missiles and very quickly exhausted every spell he could cast. Flame arrows, fireballs and pheres of electricity spewed forth from his fingers at anything not of this plane. Blind rage had consumed him!


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Last edited by Mobile_Svensk on Fri, Mar 29 2013, 18:09 PM, edited 4 times in total.

 
      
Silent2001
 
PostPosted: Thu, Mar 28 2013, 23:43 PM 

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Fear is an alien concept to the paladin, but rage isn't, when the Nycaloth flies away from the scene of the butchering Adoster quaffs a potion of speed and invokes the Holy Sword blessing upon his blade. His flagging exhaustion would be fueled by the palpable anger and adrenalin flooding his system. Instead of inspiring words the warrior would do his best to inspire the men through action as he cleaves and hacks his way through the onslaught of fiends charging their line. In the frenzy, the paladin's eyes would be drawn to the light show Marcus puts on above them, inspired he would lift his blade and call out "The dawn is coming!"

_________________
Image<3 Maryn
We are going to die and that makes us the lucky ones.


 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Fri, Mar 29 2013, 19:19 PM 

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Despite trying to maintain a stoic demeanor, Marcus cannot suppress a few painful groans and grunts and bloody coughs as his bones are set and mended. When the process seems to have ended, he wheezes a weak "to His temple.."

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Fri, Mar 29 2013, 20:43 PM 

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Gehenna...

Aoth's unfortunate shield guardian would begin to sink into the mass of snakes that makes up the writhing ground as soon as it was summoned, though it seems not overly concerned. At the Scrivener's direction, it begins thrashing at the snake-mass near Aoth's feet, attempting to reduce the press of the slithering forms enough for its master to gain solid footing.

Mahir's taunting meanwhile does indeed seem to draw Set's attention, though whether it is from the man's words or the mere impertinence of having addressed the avatar at all is difficult to tell. Rearing back the great snake seems about to strike out at the Sekhry, until a "cloud" of Darkness appears around its head courtesy of Jud.

A low, hissing laugh is heard from within that cloud.

Though the snakes seem to somehow regrow around them, Aoth's guardian and Jud's stinging voice cut enough of a path out of the serpentine ground that the Chosen find some limited movement... and just in time. The Avatar's body swings suddenly, out wide to one side, and then comes whipping back in towards the Chosen, low to the ground in an attempt to simply flatten them all at once.

The Chosen just barely manage to dive down amidst the snakes to avoid being crushed entirely, though several of them feel the momentarily crushing weight of the deitific avatar regardless, before the beast swings back up to its previous posture above the constricted Lord of Jackals.

Unfortunately, this also allows time for the mass of snakes to regrow, and several of the Chosen find suddenly that they still have one foot or one hand caught below the writhing mass. And then a pale white glow encompasses the ground around them for fifty feet in every direction as Talyne manages to attune herself to the alien realm. “Quickly. This won't hold long.”

The Chosen find themselves standing on familiar desert sands, as though the very landscape were changed beneath their feet within the radius of the glow, and their movement is no longer impeded. But whatever the druidess did, the slitted eyes of the great serpent flick towards her, a rolling hiss that almost sounds like it could be words, emitting as it opens its maw to reveal the halberd-sized fangs and gullet.

You will not essscape me again, Asssimar...

The momentary distraction seems to be all that the Sekhry needs and as he rushes forward with the gems, drawing Anubis' attention to him, the Jackal manages to stretch out one arm towards the Mulan warrior and grasp the gems.

Just as the gemstones flare to life with a radiance of whites, blues, reds and purples, with a whip-like motion, the great snake dives down directly over Talyne, swallowing her whole. As the radiance of her spell gutters and dies, the snake drawing back up to its full height to look once again towards Anubis and the Sekhry, a bright green feather of exquisite beauty gently floats down from where Talyne had been, to rest gently on the ground.

Set...SET!!!

A great roar sounds from the throat of the Jackal as the gems seem to absorb into the flesh of his hand, the memories of ages past flooding back into the forgotten deity's mind. Without so much as a flash of light, the Kopesh of the High Scribe disappears right from Mahir's hands, as to each of the other items of the raiment... and appear on their rightful owner, now clad in all of the splendor one would expect of a Mulharondi god.

Each of the Chosen feel a sharp tug upon something which had been rooted to their very soul, and though it pains them, it is a good sort of pain, as the essence which Ma'at had placed within each of them is stolen away by the one that it was perhaps truly meant for all along. With one final burst of vitality from the essence locked inside the Sekhry, the Lord of Jackals seems to grow even within the confines of the snake's coils and for the first time, the massive snake swings back in surprise. A hiss of pain soon follows as the Lord of Jackals bites down on the nearest section of the snake's form, powerful canine jaw ripping out a chunk of flesh which quickly withers and smokes into nothingness.

The Lord of Jackals has returned...


((posted in co-operation with NinjaClarinet))

*-*-*-*-*


Nes'ek

The defensive lines are reestablished (with no small amount of effort holding everyone together) in a quarter-sphere style, stretching from the cliff edge near the Cathedral entrance, around the temple of the Morninglord. The defenders are hard pressed, and moral begins to wane here and there after having been pushed back, and seeing one of their commanders bodily thrown against the temple wall, and another thrown into the horde itself. Only Adoster's display of sheer ferocity and Malatril's stalwart, tactical resolved seem to be holding them together on the north and south ends of the line respectively.

Despite Salema's best efforts, and the efforts of the other clergy and healers, more than a few of the defenders had to be left behind in the retreat, now lost in the seething mass of yugoloths that press their way into the town. Interestingly enough, a small pocket of resistance appears to hold out in the northeast reach, and several new spells can be seen to be flung about coming from the shrine of Hoar. It would seem they chose not to evacuate with the others, but for some reason chose not to make their presence felt in the battle.

The young Simon's impressive barrage of magic, combined with the now more regimented arrow volleys from the defenders, see many of the Nycaloths wounded, and even a few dead, careening down into the masses of defenders or fellow yugoloths alike. His sudden influx of magic does have an unfortunate side effect however, as one wounded Nycaloth maneuvers precariously to land in a tumble behind the sorcerer, growling as they go sprawling to the desert sands together. One of its wings torn and battered, Simon manages to scramble to his feet much more quickly... or at least almost manages to, before the Nycaloth clamps a powerful mit of a hand around one of his ankles.

Kicking at the creature frantically, he manages to dislodge its hold enough to crawl a few feet away, jumping to his feet as the towering yugoloth regains its own footing. With a reflexive flick of an arcane gesture and nearly-stumbled phrase, the nearly tapped sorcerer flings a thick, oozing ball of Grease at the beast's feet. Quickly expanding, the magical Grease does seem to at least slow its advance... but a tusk-filled, malevolent grin spreads across the demon's features as it realizes how finite Simon's remaining power must be.

In one last act of desperation, the young sorcerer falls back on the first magic he ever managed to manifest, putting his wrists together before him and splaying his fingers outward, pointed towards the Nycaloth's face. One sharp command later and a wide fan of flames spews forth from the man's palms, striking his target full on... and igniting the Grease below them both.

With a sudden burst of heat and sound, the Grease goes up in flames, the intense heat making short work of the unfortunate Vanguardsman but leaving the Nycaloth, born of the fires of Gehenna, unscathed. Unceremoniously the great green-skinned beast would walk forward out of the conflagration, stepping on and crushing Simon's skull on the way like an overripe melon.

Tauntingly, the beast stops on the outer edge of the burning Grease, daring the defenders to come forth and avenge their comrade...


((posted in co-operation with Svensk))


 
      
Silent2001
 
PostPosted: Fri, Mar 29 2013, 21:29 PM 

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Adoster would step forward to meet the Nycaloth's challenge, the battered paladin would hold a bile-covered scimitar in one hand and a dented shield in the other.

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Image<3 Maryn
We are going to die and that makes us the lucky ones.


 
      
GreatPigeon
 
PostPosted: Fri, Mar 29 2013, 21:57 PM 

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As Talyne is engulfed Mahir feels the pain of letting one of those whom followed him down. He feels the pain of another life ended due to his imperfections. And when the gems were exchanged and the Khopesh wrested from his own hand he would draw his own sword and stare in awe of Anubis now in all his Glory for a moment.

"Lord Anubis, what would you have of us"

All the while keeping a wary eye on the Avatar of Set and himself crouched with the shield ready should he need it. He turns toward the the spot where Talyne had been engulfed and his eyes rest on the green feather, his heart heavy with the sorrow of the loss, his resolve strengthened by her sacrifice.

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The Peacock wrote:
[GreatPigeon] is better than me.


Uncle-Opustus wrote:
Just before I fall asleep, I like to pretend it's just a public feat so Pigeon can succeed in politics and save the world from poverty... with his unicorn and shining armour and Excalibur.


 
      
Remal
 
PostPosted: Mon, Apr 01 2013, 13:55 PM 

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Malatril and the rest of the War Knights hold defensive line as best as they can, but signs of wear and tear from prolonged fighting can be clearly seen, adrenaline and pure determination keeping them on their feet, trading blows with demons. Malatril's shield, even heavily enchanted, looks heavily battered as it deflects demons' weapons, each new blow making another dent. Malatril breathes heavily as he swings his blade in wide arcs, lightning sparks trailing behind as it cuts through demons, killing couple of them with each blow.
His gaze quickly shifts left, as last of geared guardians falls down, smashed by powerful dive attack of one of nycaloths. In that split second, he notices Adoster accepting challenge of the powerful demon on the other side of battlefield, but then quickly turns his gaze back to foes in front on him as he steadies to deflect another series of blows.
"May Tempus grant him strength and victory." he utters a silent prayer as he musters strength for another swing of his weapon.

_________________
"A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." - Antoine de Saint-Exupry


 
      
Naivatkal
 
PostPosted: Tue, Apr 02 2013, 17:02 PM 

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Wait... the Sharessin said, keeping him back a moment. A short moment later, she cast a proper spell of Heal into his body, sending the divine energies coursing through him to finish the repairs upon his body. She knew not if it would heal his eyes, but she hoped that his body would recover to it's full state.

She was about to protest his light insistence to return when the sudden fireball made her gasp in surprise. Looking over quickly, she watched in horror as the young man was unfortunately engulfed by the combined spells he had cast. The fire danced in her eyes as the Nycaloth stepped forward, the silent challenge evident. No! Salema cried out, still grasping Marcus' forearm as she snapped her head to her angelic summon. Arcadian! There is your quarry! Help him! she commanded even as she pulled another scroll of Mass Haste free, using it to encompass Adoster and the Arcadian in it. It was all she could do, for she was not going to leave the potentially still-blind Marcus behind.

With a cry of divine fury the winged Avenger swooped in, swords swinging in vengeance against the Nycaloth, working to aid Adoster and free him to rescue Simon. As it did so, Salema did indeed aid Marcus in returning to the Temple of Lathander. They went as quick as they could, though they were not far anyways, and she guided him and took heed of any obstacles in their path.

_________________
Whomst've'll'd'mn't I play:
Salema Nefahri :: A penny for your thots
Zrae'a'stra'fryn :: That which nightmares are made of
Khasir :: From the East a storm is coming


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 2:15 AM 

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Nes’ek…

Whether from the ministrations of Salema’s skills as a healer or from simple time, Marcus’ vision would slowly begin to return. Only splotches of light and color at first, he would gradually begin to make out some small details; certainly enough to see the grim state that Nes’ek finds itself in. He and Salema would catch a glimpse of Adoster and the Nycaloth beginning to circle each other, a wide circle forming around them as the rest of Anubis’ horde renews the press against the other defenders.

Get to Simon! The paladin would shout to the Arcadian as he measures his opponent, far larger than the plate-clad Vanguardsman. The stature of the great Nycaloth, one wing bent oddly at is side, seemed not to matter though, this fight having become far more personal for the enraged Adoster.

Seeming to grow impatient with the “small” human, the Nycaloth lets loose a fierce bellow before charging in towards Adoster. The more agile man ducks aside and behind the beast, scoring a scathing slice on one hamstring… but a quick backhand from one muscular green arm sends the man reeling, mangling the plate or the leg that is knocked out from under him.

The Arcadian manages to hack her way through the nearby lesser yugoloths and reaches poor Simon’s side; or at least what is left of him. With one last swipe of her holy blade to dispatch a Cannoloth that gets a little too close, the angelic being scoops up the son of Cordor and draws him back behind friendly lines with one great lift of her wings.

The Nycaloth turns in hot pursuit as Adoster stumbles momentarily, and tries to grab the much smaller target. This time the beast’s fist is met with Adoster’s own sword, digging deeply into the meet of one great hand, causing a roar of pain from the yugoloth.

In a fit of rage, the Nycaloth drags the sword right out of the paladin’s grip, still imbedded in the meat of its fist and lunges for the now unarmed man…


*-*-*-*-*


Guldorand…

Not long after, the bug-like legs of the first Mezzoloth scout cross through the gently flickering light of the portal linking far off Nes’ek to Guldorand. Two exploratory steps are taken as it glances around cautiously, taking in its new surroundings… before a field of writhing, rubbery tentacles crop up all around it and the portal, battering through its carapace and crushing it to the floor.

The Cordorian Mage Guard who had been waiting for just such an eventuality, steps out of the shadows then, beginning his next incantation even as a second yugoloth attempts to breach the portal.

This one only makes it half-way through before the Mage Guard’s incantation collapses the portal with a loud popping sound, cutting the unfortunate creature in half…


*-*-*-*-*


Nes’ek…

A similar popping sound is emitted in Nes’ek as their side of the portal closes in kind, but nothing is heard over the din of the chattering yugoloths and the screams of the defenders as wounds begin to pile up and the line grows thinner and thinner. Though most of the Nycaloths have been struck down by bow or spell, they seem to have accomplished their goal, bringing enough chaos to the defenders to allow the entry of the main host into the town.

Amazingly enough, the Hoarites not only manage to hold their small abode, but shouts of They’re heading for the portal! sound as the small group of combatants begins cutting their way to the Wiltun portal. Those shouts turn momentarily to cries of Cowards! or They’re abandoning us!... only to turn to cheers of encouragement moments later as the small band of warriors and priests forms a line across the small opening which holds the Wiltun portal, keeping the yugoloth’s from entering.

Though sorely pressed, carts and temporary barricades are brought from the rear of the lines, or from the Cathedral in order to reinforce the dwindling numbers of the defenders, helping to keep the tide at bay. And miraculously or perhaps as testament to their tenacity, it appears to work; neither side gains or looses ground as cries of Hold the line! and Steady, men! ring out in the lightening sky of pre-dawn.

Only time will tell if they manage to do so…


*-*-*-*-*


Kohlingen…

As the Djedet refugees begin pouring through Dominik’s portal to the Holy City, they are quickly and carefully met by the Silver Dragons who were told to prepare for their arrival. While the Dragons guard the teleportation site, not knowing what state the battle on the other side remains in, clerics of Ilmater and the other clergy of the Holy City rush forward with water for the beleaguered people and blankets to ward them from the chill night air.

Between the hurried flight from their home, followed by the flight from Nes’ek, and now finding themselves in such a strange, cold and culturally foreign land, the refugees mill about chaotically, with open fear and confusion on their faces.

And still more pour through the teleportation site into the waiting arms of Kohlingen…


*-*-*-*-*


Nes’ek…

As the refugees continue to filter through the teleportation circle to Kohlingen, the Djedet Elder who had spoken to all of the people of the Khalem previously, Elder Madu stands just outside the entrance to the Cathedral. Surveying the sprawling battleground before him as the folk of Djedet crowd through Dominik’s teleportation circle, the Elder watches Nes’ek militia fight beside Djedet militia, Vanguardsman beside War Knight.

He watches as the rear or Anubis’ forces begin parting, opening the way for something coming in from the outside of the town’s borders. The yugoloths at the rear, too far back to be involved in the fighting, lift up their talons or weapons and let out horrendous chattering and screeching sounds that can only be interpreted as cheering.

Moments later the reason becomes evident. The vicious Tarzhens have come to finish it…


*-*-*-*-*


Gehenna…

Far too occupied to begin to answer the queries of a mortal, Anubis struggles to wrestle free of the constricting mass of the snake-avatar. Kopesh, fist and canines against coils, hydra-snakes and fangs, the two deities stumble together to the ground, both trying anything to gain the upper-hand. They roll as they fall over together and nearly roll right over top of the Chosen in the process; the only thing that saves them from being crushed is a hastily planted foot by Anubis, stopping them just shy of the Chosen. Unfortunately for the Sekhry, the sinuous tail of the great serpent whips out to slap the ground in an attempt to gain a better hold around the Jackal Lord… landing on and crushing the man’s leg in the process.

The maneuver to save the Chosen of Ma’at from being crushed also costs Anubis, the momentary distraction allowing several of Set’s hood-snakes to clamp down on his free arm. It quickly becomes clear that this has escalated beyond mortal abilities, and that the Chosen have accomplished all that they can in the demi-plane. The rest is up to Anubis now.

As the fighting intensifies, the Chosen become aware of the fact that the battle is not limited to the physical. The ground shifts and churns around them, at moments seeming to delve back towards the writhing mass of snakes from earlier, and at other times turning to great stretches of stinging desert sand. The sky itself seems stuck in a swirling half-light, caught somewhere between brilliant noon-day sun and the darkest, starless night.

Crawling the few feet away to the feather left in the wake of Talyne’s demise, Mahir calls out to Aoth, Scrivener, summon the Gate. It is time, there is naught else for us to do, but protect our own and pray.

And though it is difficult to leave such uncertainty behind, to stay would be death…


*-*-*-*-*


Nes’ek…

Trapped within a circle of leering yugoloths, Adoster can only duck and dodge the larger, winged Nycaloth as it tries to grab the more agile paladin. His blade still stuck deep within one of the beast’s four fists, which is kept well away from the canny warrior, Adoster can do little more than hope for some sort of opening to present itself, some mistake to be made.

But the hulking yugoloth seems beyond and sort of fatigue, unlike Adoster who has already been fighting on the front lines that night for longer than he can recall clearly. Soon enough, the quickly tiring paladin missteps despite his skill, and that proves all the opening the Nycaloth needs.

One more lunge and Adoster finds himself lifted bodily into the air by the remaining three hands, one around each bicep and the third clenched firmly around the paladin’s neck, starting to choke the life from him. Glancing around desperately for anything to use as a weapon, anything to free himself, Adoster’s gaze is drawn down as his lungs hunger for air.

With a sudden lurch, Adoster kicks out, swinging his right leg into the side of the Nycaloth’s chest… where the rent metal of his leg plating from the earlier blow digs drives into the Nycaloth’s side, causing it to reflexively loosen its grip. Giving one more vicious kick for good measure, Adoster drops to the ground, gulping in air as he rolls both to absorb the shock of the drop, and to position himself behind the staggering yugoloth.

Looking up, Adoster rips his sword free from the Nycaloth’s fist, which it had been keeping behind its back to make sure the paladin couldn’t reach it before. Focusing every bit of the divine wrath he feels for the beast of the Lower Planes, his sword is limed with a white radiance as he presses the attack.

The wounded Nycaloth swings its maul-like fists back and forth to try to ward off the enraged paladin, but only loses one of those fists to a vicious and precision swipe of Adoster’s sword in the process, cutting clean through the wrist. As the great beast staggers, clutching at its stump, an opening is presented which Adoster doesn’t hesitate to exploit, driving his sword up and through the green-skinned chest, just below the sternum.

With one final burble of protest, the towering creature slumps forward, nearly falling on top of the paladin of Cordor who barely manages to tear his sword free in time to limp out of the way of the falling bulk. And then as Adoster is reminded of the wider battle around him, he sees that several of the nearby lesser yugoloths around him have turned their attention his way, and that he is thoroughly surrounded.


A sudden crackle of energy and a Gate begins to form behind the line of defenders; not the seething, churning maw of the yugoloth portal, but a more ordered affair with a softened glow. Moments later, a great cheer erupts from the defenders as the Chosen step through, somewhat bewildered in the face of not only the constant press of yugoloths, but the near-simultaneous charge of the powerful Tarzhen from the rear of the enemy lines.

The lesser yugoloths seem to part before their charge, allowing the defenders a small reprieve to form up and allowing Adoster a brief window in which to run back to friendly lines, taking the head from a too-slow Mezzoloth on the way. Determination setting in, faced with what may be their last defensive act in light of the coming enemy reinforcements, many of the defenders whisper silent prayers to any deity that might be listening.

And while the matter of those prayers being answered or not would remain open to interpretation, the Chosen at least have some idea of what takes place next…


As one, the Tarzhen suddenly stop mid-stride, before they had even reached the defending lines… and simply stand still. They take a single stride forward a moment later, as though trying to fight off some unseen compulsion, but are stopped once again.

The yugoloths look on in momentary confusion, and it takes only that moment for the “war” over the Tarzhen to be won in full. Tarzhen claws split yugoloth chitin while yugoloth weapon pieces Tarzhen flesh… only to see that flesh regenerate in short order. With sudden fury, the pitched battle resumes in full, but as the dawn’s light finally crests the horizon the defenders of Nes’ek finally find themselves at the turning of the tide.


Though too stunned to act right away, it doesn’t take long for the defenders to see that events have finally turned in their favour, and to begin forming up to retake their land and homes…


*-*-*-*-*


// I want to thank everyone for their patience in seeing this plotline to its conclusion, and I really hope you all enjoyed it despite it being entirely forum based. From here you can continue to post your characters actions but the remainder of this thread is primarily the “cleaning up” of Nes’ek, killing off the rest of “Anubis” (Set’s) forces with the help of the Tarzhen.

Shortly after this post has been made, the module will be updated with quite a few changes to reflect how the final events have changed the face of Khem. There will be more to come, but it will be generated based on player actions, by Hackums and myself who will be helping out with the Khem area now.

Thanks again and as always, feel free to PM me any questions you might have.


 
      
Nivo
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 4:20 AM 

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Joined: 09 Jan 2009
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Greeting the refugees in the Holy City...

_________________
Playing:
Marcus Valis


 
      
Jes
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 12:34 PM 

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Joined: 23 Aug 2006
Location: Camriiole

In Gehenna, a copper kin hesitates as the Chosen wait for Aoth to open the gate. Her weapon and shield still in hand, she makes certain those more vulnerable than she get to the Scrivener's side as quickly as possible. On the other side, the sound of battle immediately draws her attention and she turns with a shout, lunging into the battle as if she's been waiting to use her talon-blade for weeks.

((Edit: Mis-read something!))

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Login: The Copper Queen
Cromlech - The Best Copper This Side of Ruathym
Zelly Cys'dina - The Wounded Soul, Also Merchant

Aelynthi Nor'alei - The Bubbly Winged Elf


See me DM-side as:
[DM] Hlal | [DM] The Voice


Last edited by Jes on Fri, Apr 05 2013, 17:02 PM, edited 1 time in total.

 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 16:02 PM 

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For much of the remainder of the battle, a slowly recovering Marcus would stand symbolically before the doors of the temple of Lathander, occasionally directing the nearby defenders when he sees the need.

When dawn finally comes, he enters the temple of Lathander and sets to conducting the dawn ritual while the rest of the defenders and newly arrived Chosen clean up the remaining demons. He also spends a moment reporting the recent events to Si'Neela, and emerges from the temple afterwards to attempt to Resurrect Simon. Of note would be that his armor and sunmask seem to be slowly but visibly repairing itself, broken links and plates reforging themselves.

Whether or not Simon's soul chooses to return, the Sunmaster seeks out Adoster and commends him on his efforts.

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 16:58 PM 

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Location: British Columbia

Marcus would find that either Simon's soul has already been claimed, or he is simply has found contentment in death. Whatever the case may be, Simon does not heed Marcus' call to return to life, his body remaining battered and torn within the temple of the Morninglord.


 
      
Jes
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 17:18 PM 

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Joined: 23 Aug 2006
Location: Camriiole

Once it becomes clear to the copper kin that the battle is being won and the many allies present can hold the enemy off much easier, Zelly lifts her arm and calls over to the Sekhry, informing him that she is going to the portal to Kohlingen to see to the refugees and to report to their allies, her commanders.

In a moment's time, she leaps up and simply flies over the fighting warriors, calling a cheer to Ma'at and the Eight before making her way to the Cathedral. After checking in with Dominik, she disappears through the portal.

_________________
Login: The Copper Queen
Cromlech - The Best Copper This Side of Ruathym
Zelly Cys'dina - The Wounded Soul, Also Merchant

Aelynthi Nor'alei - The Bubbly Winged Elf


See me DM-side as:
[DM] Hlal | [DM] The Voice


 
      
GreatPigeon
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 18:01 PM 

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Joined: 04 May 2009
Location: London, UK

The Sekhry would snap his spear in half and cast aside the tip. He then would bandage the broken and now set leg tightly, using the spear as a make shift splint. He hobbles along with a crutch of a crude wooden staff for support.

The Sekhry would speak to his own defenders and militia and see to those Djedet and Khalem citizens whom are still in Nesek. He asks what events had transpired since the departure... He would thank all the defenders of Nesek, swallowing pride to even thank those from Cordor.

His heart drops when he stands on the ridge south of Nesek and looks down on what was once Djedet and now is serpent infested dunes and ruins.

Finally, after taking time to meet with everyone he can or whom seeks him out he departs by portal to Kohlingen to take care the citizens and the situation there.

He refuses all form of magical aid for his leg.

_________________
The Peacock wrote:
[GreatPigeon] is better than me.


Uncle-Opustus wrote:
Just before I fall asleep, I like to pretend it's just a public feat so Pigeon can succeed in politics and save the world from poverty... with his unicorn and shining armour and Excalibur.


 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Fri, Apr 05 2013, 22:31 PM 

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Joined: 13 Mar 2011

After the attempt at resurrection fails, and after having seen to Adoster, Marcus starts compiling a record of those defenders that fell in the defense, for the recounting during the Dusk Ritual. He mainly keeps to himself, the death of the Cordoran youth putting him in a sombre mood despite the victory.

He politely accepts the thanks of the Sekhry but doesn't seem to hold it in much importance.

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
erroch
 
PostPosted: Sat, Apr 06 2013, 1:12 AM 

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An hour or so after Zelly leaves Dominik follows suit. He collects his pack and exchanges a few quiet words with some of the remaining defenders. Through the damage in his clothing the print pink of magically healed flesh shows, however his movements are careful and it appears the Magister is favoring his right side.

Without much fanfare he steps through his own Teleportation Circle and returns to Kohlingen.

_________________
Image


 
      
Elorathall
 
PostPosted: Sat, Apr 06 2013, 15:45 PM 

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For Marcus, the remainder of the day is spent aiding the defenders in mopping up the remainder of the demons, and then a few hours of rest and recovery. He remains to conduct the Dusk Ritual, during which the names of the fallen defenders would be recited. In the absence of the portal to Guldorand, Marcus would open a ley portal back to Cordor and take Adoster and Simon's remains with him.

_________________
Aernoud Van Brabant: Heir of the House. Proprietor of the Beer Wagon.
"Go to the Mayfields, have a pint, and wait for this to blow over."

Aurelius: Sunmaster of Amaunator. Contemplative. Aspirant to Transcendance.
"Sol Invictus"


 
      
Naivatkal
 
PostPosted: Sat, Apr 06 2013, 17:07 PM 

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The multitude of emotions that swept through the young Sharessin priestess in those closing phases of the war were too numerous to list. Most notably was the terror overcome by relief, then touched by grief at Simon's lack of returning to life. She wept openly for the young man, a man she had not even known but who's life she cherished like a loved one's. The Arcadian silently departed to her home plane in the aftermath, leaving Salema to whisper prays for his soul and to Sharess.

Resolute, she stayed behind. She knew there was still much left to do, and so she spent her time with those seeking to clean out the rest of the invaders. Her skills were focused on healing still, mending the wounded and providing protection to those that need it. She forestalls her return to Kohlingen for a day or so, working relentlessly to assuage her pain for those lost by helping to rebuild their homes.


// Simon :(

_________________
Whomst've'll'd'mn't I play:
Salema Nefahri :: A penny for your thots
Zrae'a'stra'fryn :: That which nightmares are made of
Khasir :: From the East a storm is coming


 
      
alamut
 
PostPosted: Mon, Apr 08 2013, 3:47 AM 

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Joined: 07 Apr 2009

It seems that Mikal Blacksword went missing.


 
      
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