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Postby Matt BeDar » Mon Oct 22, 2007 11:17 pm

"I don't know why I'm telling you this, except I that have a feeling that you could help me. I've heard... things, about you." Quolde cleared his throat. "Anyway, your turn."


Max told the wizard everything about the Necromancer and his deeds over the past two or so centuries, including his attempts at sealing a demon to a suit of enchanted armor that would be nigh indestructible.

"He's been having black luck at keeping the demons sealed in the armor though," Max reassured the old wizard, for Quolde went a little pale at that remark, "What I do know about it is that something in the enchantments on the armor kills the demon before it learns how to control its' new body."

It was at that moment that Rolyn decided to check on Qoulde and Max. "Is there any way that I can help you?" When both Max and Quolde stared at Rolyn wondering what he meant by that statement, Rolyn added hastily, "You two were talking in hushed voices and Qoulde was starting to go pale!"

"Hmmmm," Max mumbled deeply, "Actually, I think there is a way that you can help," Max said in a tone that suggested he had an idea that Rolyn wouldn't quite like.

"How?" Rolyn asked, both intrigued and yet slightly hesitant, looking from Max to Quolde as they both nodded in agreement to something that Rolyn didn't understand.
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Postby Lord Tyler II » Tue Oct 23, 2007 5:00 pm

Rolyn looked at the two smirtking faces, "What?"

Oh dear.... Guys, Rolyn doesn't know anything about the Necromancer or anything! Someone's going to have to expalin it...
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Postby Matt BeDar » Fri Nov 02, 2007 12:18 am

Location: The besieged village

Bulloth lifted his newest victim, an old orc that had seen more than his fair share of battles.

Bulloth had found the old orc resting against a wall, regaining his breath. At the orc's feet were two dead militiamen and a dead woman. The orc had started to doze off when Bulloth stepped out from behind a cart and grabbed the orc's head in one massive gloved hand. The orc was now hanging several feet from the ground. To relieve the pressure on his neck the orc grabbed the arm holding him with both of his own arm's.

Bulloth took his captive into an alley and threw the orc into a corner. Drawing his hammer, Bulloth approached the huddled and cowering orc.

"If you want to live, answer my questions. Understood?" Bulloth made sure that he let no emotion into his voice, so as not to tip off the orc as to how he truly felt right now. 'Ever since that demon landed on my back and bit my neck, I've started to get weary.'

Indeed, Buloth had been getting sloppier in his attacks over the past few hours. He had been hit multiple times by foes and was feeling as if he had aged twenty years in a matter of hours.

Bulloth snapped back to the present when the orc in front of him muttered something that sounded very much like "..makes him weak."

"What was that?" Bulloth crouched low so as to be eye level with the orc. When the orc refused to answer, Bulloth slammed his fist into the ground, a hairs breadth from the orc's groin.

The orc went from a dark green to a sickly green as he saw how close the giants fist was. "I said 'I hopes that spell makes him weak'!" the orc screeched seeing that the armored giant meant business.

"What spell?" once again, Bulloth's voice was flat and emotionless.

"I don't know anythin' else except that Reeve injected some spell into you to make ye mortal!" once again, the orc said everything quickly so as not to anger the violent man in front of him.

Bulloth's finger flicked the orc's temple, rendering the orc unconscious. Bulloth slung his prisoner over his shoulder and walked back into the street.

And right into twenty fully armed attackers. The new arrivals took one look at max and decided that this was a man that could only be defeated through shear numbers.

The orcs, parvadaemonss, and other assorted monsters started circling Bulloth. Before they could completely surround him, Bulloth struck the five monsters in front of him with his hammer leaving nothing but a few legs and feet still standing. Bulltoh took full advantage of the shock on the other enemies. Before any of them could fight back, Bulloth slew the other fifteen with a wide encompassing swing of his hammer, knocking all of their heads off or caving them in.

Pleased with his handy work, Bulloth headed towards the improvised barricades in the center of what remained of the village. Bulloth encountered two more groups of wandering raiders, none as large as the first but all of the monsters meeting the same, gruesome end.

Once he reached the barricade, Bulloth stepped over the over turned cart that served as that stretch of the barricade and dropped his prisoner next to Feldered, who was taking his turn to watch for any large offenses from their attackers.

"Did you get any information from this one?" the commander of the local militia inquired, making sure to draw Bulloth's attention towards the pile of dead orcs and parvadaemons that Bulloth had captured over the past few hours.

"Actually, yes. Something of importance this time," Bulloth said when he noticed the look of mock surprise he received from Feldered.

"What did he say?" Feldered asked, all signs of sarcasm replaced by a mix of concern, curiosity, and a deathly serious gaze.

Bulloth related what the orc had said about a spell to the sergeant. "As you can guess, this bodes very ill for the defense of the village. Or what's left of it any ways."

Feldered had turned very pale by the time Bulloth finished. Before he could respond, an arrow flew over the barricade and hit Feldered in the shoulder, knocking the wind out of him. The shaft punched clean through his chain mail as if it weren't there. Feldered stumbled away from the barricade and made it to the healers' hut, one of the few buildings left standing in the ruined village. He managed to open the door and stumble inside when he heard the unmistakable roar of battle behind him. As he turned around, a wave of pain washed over him and he started to black out.

Before he lost consciousness, Feldered clearly saw Bulloth, a giant sentinel, standing amidst the villages few remaining militia, leading their last stand.

And then there was only a sea of darkness.
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Postby doodstormer » Fri Nov 02, 2007 12:59 am

Crafton arose, to see smoke in the distance. He told the two goblins to armor up, and they headed for the source of the smoke.
From the woods, Crafton could make out a small, ruined village, several rugged and worse for wear peasants and soldiers, and a massive, armored figure, apparently the leader, by Crafton's guess. seeing the undead rampaging the village, Crafton immediately jumped to assist. He gave the goblins strict instructions to not make a sound until he called for them.
Srawing his sword, he swiped the head away from an orc, and kicked the body down as he cast a spell to bind a pair of undead rushing to attack him. He cleared a way to the village, and called the goblins. He quickly assigned them to the healer's hut, to assist with the wounded. Crafton scrambled to get to the main fight. He ran in a little to soon, and ducked a blow from the giant's massive hammer. Backing out of range, he cast a turn undead on a carcass that had walked too close. He swept his sword across the neck of another orc, and quickly snatched its ax and threw it into the fray of orcs and undead, hearing a satisfying thud and a painful shout. hearing the grunts of an orc behind him, he backswiped and knocked the orc several feet away.

The goblins opened the door, and tripped over a man with an arrow in his shoulder. Greenback was immediately disgusted. "Ugh, oi jus' barely wokk in da door an' bamf! dead people."
"Oi dunno, oi ain't et to see me a fello' 'at dies f'om a single arrer inna' 'is shoulda. 'e musta fainted." commented Dewbrain.
"Oi, and since wen were yew da smartybritches about dis stuff?"
"Oi been readin' dose books."
"Yew can't even read ya empty 'ead!"
"Dey has pitchers, dose oi can read."
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Postby Matt BeDar » Fri Nov 02, 2007 9:11 pm

Jack Fiddlestump stood on top of a small hillock a little west of a dense forest. The view in front of Jack was very close to perfect. A little valley with a river running from one end to the other, a waterfall at the northern tip of the valley and fertile meadows made the view look like a slice of heaven.

Jack turned back to the forest. "Ay! Gerodal! Stir your stump and get up 'ere!" Within a few moments ex-Commander Johnathon Gerodal, now an outlaw, came walking up the small hill.

"What do you want you lard bellied fiend!" Gerodal yelled at his good friend.

"Ye'll see when ya take a look at that," Jack pointed to the west over the other side of the hill.

Before Gerodal reached the top of the small hill he could smell smoke on the wind. Once he reached the top, Gerodal stopped dead in his tracks. Like his friend, Gerodal noticed two things immediately. The first thing he noticed was that this valley was indeed beautiful. The second and most important observation, was the village that was burning in the middle of the valley.

"I think that we just walked onto a battle field," Gerodal said gravely. "We should go and help them. Now." That last word seemed to grab Jack's attention more then the rest of what Gerodal said.

"Now! Ye're jokin'! The men 'ave just broken camp! There's no way they're awake enough to last in a fight!" Jack tried desperately to convince Gerodal to change his mind, but the old warrior remained firm in his decision. Jack threw his hands in the air and gave an exasperated sigh. "There's just no talkin' to ya once ye've sight ye're self to a path."

Jack shouted down to the messengers at the bottom of the hill and gave them orders to carry to his officers. Within an hour, the rest of the army had gathered in front of the little hill.

Jack turned around to give more orders to his oficers when he saw the unmistakable armored bulk that was his new found friend, King Lonoth. "About time ye got here!" Jack yelled heartily at Lonoth.

"I told you that I'd move at my own pace you blasted fool!" King Lonoth yelled back at Jack. Lonoth was a strange man that Jack had found wandering the country side. Lonoth was armored from head to toe with not a sliver of skin showing. He stood 6'6" and was quite an intimidating figure. To Jack's knowledge Lonoth had never taken off any piece of his armor, eaten, or even slept. How Lonoth could be alive was a question which Jack had asked him about only once. The conversation had ended when the King told Jack that he would be forced to kill him if he told him. There had not been any trace of humor in Lonoth's eyes or voice. Since then, Jack had been wise enough not to bring it up again.

As Lonoth climbed the hill, Jack noticed that he had a short sword and a large shield in his hands. The short sword could be more accurately described as a one and a half-handed sword, with a masterfully crafted hilt complete with a large green gem as the pommel.

Jack turned back to his officers and gave his final orders. "Remember, our main goal is to get any survivors into these woods and get 'em to the nearest coastal city. George, remember, I want a constant flow of arrows to be hittin' the enemy. Well then, that's it. Let's get goin'."
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Postby Lord Tyler II » Sat Nov 03, 2007 4:09 pm

The General continued his seige all through the day and night... He needed no rest.
The fight was his rest.
Everytime he lost a squad the bodies of the dead would take there place. But now there were 2 problems...
Problem 1: This so called "Giant" the horde feared.
Problem 2: This third party, and there cammander, Reeve. The Necromancer had warned him of them. The might hosts of Phil... Goblins and trolls...
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Postby Matt BeDar » Sat Nov 03, 2007 10:10 pm

Location: the besieged village

Jack Fiddlestump's army was 500 strong, with not a single raw recruit among them. Each man was trained in the use of spears, swords, axes, pikes, and bows. Each man carried a sword, shield, and spear at all times along with his pack.

Jack organized his troops on the bottom of the hill in ranks of 50 with pike men and spear men in the front three ranks with swords men filling in the next three ranks. The last two ranks were made up of archers. Jack kept his last hundred men as protection against any flanking maneuvers made by the skeletons or the other enemy.

"Give the order to march," Jack called down to one of the trumpeters standing next to him.

The man gave a long low pitched blare on his horn and the army started to march forward at a strong pace. Before they reached the border of the burned out village, Jack signaled to his trumpeter to halt. Again the man gave a blare on his horn but this one had a higher pitch and had a sharp rise at the end. The army halted right at the edge of the village, the first group of enemies at least a hundred yards away.

Jack decided to bellow his next orders. "Archers! Ready!" Some of the men using swords had also been given bows. Jack waited until some of the skeletons had turned around. "FIRE!!!"

150 arrows buzzed through the air like so many angry wasps. The back ranks of the skeleton army fell under a wall of arrows. The archers kept firing arrows but they were no longer firing in mass flights. Jack waited until a good three hundred skeletons had fallen before giving the order his men were waiting for. "Forward! Charge!!"

Four-hundred soldiers charged forward, closing the gap between themselves and the skeletons. Lonoth reached the enemy a good hundred paces before anyone else. Up until now, Jack had never seen Lonoth wield his sword. Now fear gripped him as he saw Lonoth swipe five skeletons out of his path and then slice a skeletal troll in half on the back swing. Just then, the rest of Jack's army impacted on the back of the skeleton army. The skeletons held their ranks for thirty seconds before finally caving in, thanks mostly to the sheer power and brutality of Lonoth.

Jack's men dug deep into the skeleton formation, a constant stream of arrows helping to weaken the enemy before the main body reached them. After a grueling half-hour of fighting, Jack saw, a goodly distance into the heart of the little village, two figures standing in front of a building, keeping the skeleton's at bay while a stream of villagers disappeared into the ramshackle hut. How the tiny building could hold all those people, Jack didn't know. What he did know was that he needed to help those men.

It took his men another fifteen minutes before they finally reached the barricade in front of the building. Now that Jack could see both men clearly, he instantly recognized the shorter one as Lonoth. The other man stood a full foot taller then Lonoth, but by the way he leaned towards Lonoth, it was evident that the giant considered his shorter companion as his superior. Jack walked through the stretch of open ground between himself and Lonoth. When he reached his friend, Jack realized that his army had naturally followed their leader. Without even being given the order, Jack's men started forming a barrier around what little their was left of the village. Jack took a moment to scan his troops to see how well they had fared in the fight. A quick head count told him that he had only lost about 70 men. Jack let out a sigh of relief at how fortunate he and his men had been.

Jack turned back towards the two hulking figure still standing in front of the little building. They were still ushering villagers into the hut although the villagers going through the hut were now fit young men in the tattered remains of what had once been uniforms. Jack assumed that these men were what was left of the local militia.

Jack finally noticed the hush that had fallen over the village. There was no longer any sounds of battle or the sound of feet crushing skeletons beneath their feet. For the moment, the battle had ceased and the skeletons had stopped attacking.....for the moment.
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Postby Black Ranger » Fri Nov 09, 2007 1:13 am

Location: Forest above village.

A black figure walked silently through a forest. A horn soon reached his skilled ears.
"Battle horns..." he muttered.
Another battle, but why? Then again, why did he care?
"Might as well look. Nothing more important to do..."

Upon reaching the source of the horns he watched as 500 soldiers marched in perfect order towards a burning village. Then charged to meet the skeletons in battle

After a half-of-an-hour of battle the force had made it to the village's defense. He noticed a figure that stood out. The leader most likely.
Might as well offer him my service he thought.

He moved like a ghost among the daed until he was right behind the leader. There were three people, two like the leader, and a giant. The giant saw him and almost hit him. The others whirled, yet nothing was there. "What is it?" One asked (Lonoth)
"I thought I saw a hooded figure behind j'a!" The giant replied.
"You did.." Came a flat tone.
the ranger revealed himself. "I am the Black Ranger, the silent guardian. I usually help Black Falcons. But I make exceptions. I now offer my service as a expert swordsman and bowman, in helping the defense of this village and to you, my Lord."
Last edited by Black Ranger on Mon Nov 12, 2007 7:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby doodstormer » Fri Nov 09, 2007 4:00 am

Crafton looked around, as the battle had eased down for a while. He turned to the massive armored figure. "Greetings, my name is Crafton, I am a paladin of the Knight's Kingdom... or at least, I was. But that is a story for another place. Two goblins also travel with me, I sent them to help in the healer's hut."

The two goblins were still arguing when a man walked in. " 'allo there, chap!" piped Greenback. The man was somewhat dazed, and took a quick glance around the room. Seeing the unconcscious man on the floor, he asked "Are you supposed to be healing?" "Oh ya mista, dat's wot our job is bein'." came the quick reply. "Is that man dead?" "oi no mista, he jussa get shot inna shouler real 'ard, he should be wakin' up some toime..." The man, shocked, said "I better get Jack! You monsters don't dare move, or I'll hunt you down and stab you like the ugly scum you are!" The man ran away, apparently to get "Jack". "He wosn't the fastes tickin' clock, wos 'e?" commented Greenback.
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Postby Lord Tyler II » Tue Nov 20, 2007 7:37 pm

After the sudden attack by, yet another, giant. And, after much roaring and bone cracking from the General to get his troops in line, The General left the field to a secluded grove of the forest....

The General stood there in the darkness.... Letting it soak in.....
He'd killed many today....
It felt good.

He slowly reached into his cloak and drew out an object wrapped in a black silk cloth. as he drew away the cloth the darkness of the grove deepened. A darkness emenated from the orb of black glass he held.

A faint ornge light flickered in the midst of the orb, but it came as if from afar off.

The words scraped out of his cold dead jaws...
"Hello my Master...."
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Postby HeartOfDarkness » Tue Nov 20, 2007 8:10 pm

Bulloth lay prone in the dust. Yet another spasm wracked his quivering body. If he had possessed glands of any sort he would doubtless have been sweating profusely.

Behind him, staggering footprints betrayed where he had experienced the first of several siezures. Reeve paced them slowly, savoring his victory over the brutish beast shaking in the dust. Moonlight glinted dully on Bulloth's armor, revealing several rents and scratches, as well as a vast tear on his shoulder.

It would begin any minute now.

Reeve wondered to himself why Bulloth had set off alone. Perhaps he had been seeking him to kill him. The thought gave him some amusement. His attention was snatched back to Bulloth as a deep dent suddenly appeared on his armor.

Finally it had begun.

Bulloth muttered a stream of unconcious gibberish. The stream rose in intensity until it was replaced with a high keen. More dents appeared in his armor, adding metallic crunches to the ghastly cacaphony. Bulloth arched his back and flipped over, revealing a huge rupture along his backplate's spine. He continued spasming as similar ruptures appeared all over his armor.

Beneath the split armor, a shape was forming.

Reeve watched in fascinated rapture. It appeared that Bulloth, in absence of a body to make mortal, found himself with a body made for him, made from the most immediate matter at hand. Which happened to be his armor. He would have been content to observe the process in its entirety, but there was a war on, after all. The village was as good as taken, but the arrival of several opposing armies had spoiled his plans. His strike force was no doubt in unorganized shambles, and he had seen a mine shaft nearby that was a much more likely candidate than any of the scorched hovels in this miserable village. It was time to go.

As he emerged from the alley, a foolhardy militiaman swung a heavy axe at his face. Reeve effortlessly swerved aside, neatly flicking his sword at the man's neck. He appeared to have missed entirely, and the soldier raised his axe triumphantly, but the weapon was suddenly too heavy to hold. He was quite puzzled until he noticed the fountian of blood spurting from his ruptured jugular.

Reeve scaled a burning cottage, launching himself off the flaming thatch in the direction of the mine. His flapping cape became a pair of dark, leathery wings. A few assorted goblins and parvadaemons followed him toward the mine.

As he flew, an ugly, greyish creature crawled from the alley. Its motions were stiff and clunky, and its thick, stumpy body was strangely ill-proportioned. It too crawled in the direction of the mines, seeking little more than heat, stone, and lonely darkness.
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Postby Sir Lancelot » Sun Nov 25, 2007 3:55 am

Bob was bored. Not that that was new. He was a skeleton after all. As he wandered through the battlefield he wondered at the meaning of life. You see, Bob was not a normal skeleton in that no one wanted him and he was often in the way. Plus he was able to wonder at the meaning of life abjectly, after all he was dead.

The skirmish had pressed quite close to him now. Up ahead he see the General directing the battle and his skeleton brethren attacking the invading humans. But Bob had no desire to fight and so he wandered to another area of the battle, where it was more quite and he could contemplate about life again.
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Postby HeartOfDarkness » Sun Nov 25, 2007 4:18 pm

Reeve and his cadre of troops entered the mine in silence. Gagyur and Opor brought up the rear, arrows on their strings and lips stretched in twin grimaces. Reeve suddenly motioned toward a skeleton at the crest of the hill. It was perched on a rock, muttering to itself about truth and beauty. Gagyur shot it where it sat.

However, he had forgotten to have his arrow enchanted.

Bob was still talking to himself. "However, if the Polis is truly the soul writ large, justice could clearly be found-ouch! Enemies! Enemies at the mine!" A thousand skeletons perked their earless skulls, gazing as one at the striken troopers. A ghastly shriek erupted, and the army lurched for Reeve and his men.

Opor and Gagyur broke into a run. Reeve and the bulky parvadaemon stood in the entrance, waiting to confront the undead warriors. As soon as Gagyur and Opor made it into the mine, Reeve wedged a large boulder into the entrance, abruptly cutting off the screams and clatters of the approaching skeletons, then set off into the darkness.

The creature formerly known as Bulloth crawled jerkily through the mine. As he went deeper, he found he could move more smoothly and with greater strength. After pondering this revelation for a bit, he decided to go to the center of the earth, where he would doubtless be so agile and so strong as to be regarded a god.
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Postby Lord Tyler II » Sun Nov 25, 2007 6:57 pm

Before the General could get an answer from the ball, a dreadful shriek fill his skull! The horde was charging some enemy to the right of the battlefield! The General charged out of the grove to see what was afoot...
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Postby doodstormer » Sun Nov 25, 2007 7:45 pm

(I'm assuming everyone entered the mines, correct? please tell me before I post.)
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