RuneScape Forum Archive | [RP] Into The Fire

Loaned Shark

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About the bodies, the Bearers worked. Methodically pacing about the circle of the dead, a skeletal child and the raised, mindless Witch of the Fording performed the grunt work of such a mass raising. A gurgled chant broke from her throat, vile and glottal, while the whispered entreaties of the child backed it with a constant susurrus. At regular intervals, they would halt, reaching within the sickly pentagram and daubing another pictogram in the blood of the fallen while the zombies took this opportunity to build the pile higher. Scales, crocodiles and elaborate depictions of the rivers and deserts… ancient spells, in a language dead for millennia, resurrected just like their master.

A man could pass this barrier, if he was of a mind to; the fear of death, emblematic of life, radiated not only from the mundane sight of so many callously-treated bodies but echoed in the soul and the spirit of all who beheld their works. The void on the other side of the Veil bled across their bridge. But, if a man wanted to reach the figure stood at the pulpit, why bother? He could just walk around the left.

He, or it, stood swaddled in a heavy black cloak, the one clean thing amidst the carnage. The hood swallowed whatever face there may be in shadow, and the hands that emerged from under the cloth were wrapped in bandages, clutching a twisted oaken staff as tall as he was. A sword rested against his podium, a dark purple crystal embedded in the pommel, and a black-handled athame, taken from its owner and profaned by use in battle and sacrifice, lay unsheathed across the surface.

Occasionally, he would reach down and turn a page of the Church of Engelain’s holy book, apparently enamoured by the tales while his minions set up the charnel house for him. It was only as the undead bird swooped into the building, crowing fit to raise the dead, that he looked up. All seeing. All knowing. All scumbag.

10-Jun-2015 00:42:03

Venom1383

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The Leprechaun's Foot

Zed considered the details of Ethel's mission. The topic of hags and other dark beings weren't covered very much back at his Mage's Guild classes. No, they never talked about the interesting stuff. But he had done a bit of independent research, and while he knew of a few ways to counter hag magic, almost none of it was at a level he could accomplish. Logic insisted that this was a bit beyond him.

"Im in as well. And I've got a question too -- er, just how many hags will we be dealing with?"

---

Gorebucks

Sileo cracked his fingers and rolled his neck. "I'm not one to put on much of a show." He admitted, stealth and efficiency being his specialty. "But I'll try something."

As his main competitor, that knight, gave him the cliche 'Stay out of my way' line, the assassin took half a second to look him over one last time. Then he shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands in a casual 'After you, sir' gesture and allowed him to walk off.

He looked back to Soahc one last time before he walked out of the building as well. His target would be Raspur -- he wasn't in the mood for dealing with those hocus pocus magical fiends, but a whip-wielding mercenary sounded like a decent challenge. Ramsay Bolton is the king we deserve.

10-Jun-2015 03:10:56 - Last edited on 10-Jun-2015 03:11:14 by Venom1383

NotFishing

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Brodus

And follow the hunters Brodus did, pausing only to finish off the still living citizens and guards who were too wounded to move and on the verge of death. When he could, at least. There weren't very many, unfortunately, for these men and women were almost too good at their jobs.

And finally he arrived at the cathedral, where a gruesome sight awaited him. Thirty years ago he would have been traumatized by something like this. Now, it barely phased him; only warning him that he was up against a highly lethal and extremely cruel foe. But it would all be worth it when he absorbed the soul. How much would it be worth, he wondered.

So, his sword at the ready, Brodus made his way into the cathedral, mindful the minions working around the area and prepared in case they tried to attack. He was even ready to tap into his soul reserves, just in case.

Picking a direction completely at random, he turned and walked around the right of the dead body pile, instead of the left as his adversary's puppetmaster seemed to be hinting. But it had been completely random, of course, ~~completely not meta-gaming.~~

"Foul Necromancer!" Brodus's voice boomef as he made it to the other side, but the sarcasm would be clear. "I, the mighty hero and adventurer Brodus, seek to challenge you in the name of the righteous god Soahc! You shall plague this land no more!" Of course, he had not let his guard down during the course of this little speech, and would be ready to defend or attack based on the necromancer's actions.

He took a deep breath, before continuing. "That's how heroes talk, right?" He asked, a cruel smile forming beneath his visor.

Meanwhile, Ubaid may actually find himself feeling a tad discomforted by the sword's presence. A barely noticeable pull on his soul, as if the blade wanted to pull him in and consume him. Which was actually the case. Beneath the gold, the Bitter Steel.

10-Jun-2015 03:30:21 - Last edited on 10-Jun-2015 03:35:50 by NotFishing

Fysyx

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The warm sun beat upon Azim's brow as he trudged down the road. Wiping sweat away with one hand, with the other he reached into his pocket and pulled out his canteen. He unscrewed the cap, lifted it to his lips, and a single drop poured into his parched gullet.

Disappointed, he stowed it away again. Luckily, he knew he was almost at his destination, the little town of Porkstead. There, he'd be able to stock up on supplies like water and food, and maybe plan out his next stop on his journey.

He actually didn't know why he was still wandering. After graduation, he had planned to go join a guild in Copperdale, but then it got annihilated when the demons attacked. Instead of just going to some other guild like any sensible person would've, he had instead decided to go on a journey across the Engelain countryside. It hadn't really done him much good, he thought.

Azim reached for his coin purse. He was going to need to see how much cash he had so he could plan for his stay in town. Distracted by the autonomous task, he started talking in his high pitched, slightly tinny voice as he walked alone down the road. "...Hasn't done me much good at all. First I went there, then I went all the way to the other side of the country. Then to that one city, and certainly well, it was interesting, but where has it gotten me? No where to call home, no job..." A single coin rolled out of the coin purse. "...And now I'm nigh penniless. Great. Well, that's at least enough for a meal, I think. I guess when I reach Porkstead, I'll need to find some work. That'll be hard; who'd want to hire me?" Still to no one in particular, "Well, I think this might be the end of my travels." He talked to himself most of the way into town.

-- 404 SIGNATURE NOT FOUND

10-Jun-2015 14:58:56

Fysyx

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Azim had been here once before, he thought. Maybe.
"There must be an inn somewhere," he muttered under his breath. After more searching, he eventually found something suitable: a tavern by the name of the Leprechaun's Foot. He opened the door, saying, "It's a start, then."

Inside, it seemed as if an important meeting was taking place. A few adventurers were sitting down, likely discussing their next exploit. There were a few warriors, a pompous looking aristocrat, a Mage, and even what appeared to be a bard. Then he noticed her flute. Animated objects seemed to despise him, and he didn't expect the flute to be much different. "Sorry," Azim said, apologizing for his intrusion, and walked briskly to the bar in the back.

Adjusting his glasses, he quietly asked the barkeep for a small meal and withdrew his last coin. Quietly, so as to not disturb the discussion behind him, he asked, "Excuse me sir, but do you know of any places around here that are hiring... I guess people with no practical job experience? I basically just got out of school." 404 SIGNATURE NOT FOUND

10-Jun-2015 14:59:29

Loaned Shark

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March of Darkness - The Cathedral

As Brodus' introductory speech came to a halt, so did everything else. The chanting ceased. Every body in the room, bar those heaped in the centre which had yet to be given the gift of unlife, slowly turned to face Brodus. Bones creaked and clinked, flesh gristled. Runny, infested skin tightened about rusty weapons. And then, from the Witch of the Fordings, came the laughter, thick and horrible.

The mirth spread about the cathedral, decaying lungs filling with air for, in some cases, the first time in years. The stench, if it were possible, grew worse. The mocking, disgusting cacophony reverberated off the walls.

It was to this backdrop that the necromancer spoke. "You dare to defy me?" he cackled, his voice echoing, light and spectral, snapping the Holy Book shut. The words seemed to come from his hood, but upon hearing them one could not help but notice the peculiar disconnect, words which were known but never listened to, bypassing the ears to arrive directly in the brain. "Petty, pathetic mortal, you are too late. In mere minutes," his spare hand swept to encompass the grisly hall, and beneath the cloak Brodus could see the flash of gleaming bronze armour and ancient pictographs before it vanished, "My legions shall arise, to carry out my dark bidding. The realms of Man and Dwarf, from the Elven forests, to the highest Avian and lowest Tyrannian servant, all shall be brought to an end yet persist in my service.

"Brodus, the Brave and Bold, the Knight of Traits and champion of a God. Step forth, and have no fear," Ubaid's fingers flicked, the jewel on his sword pulsed a regal purple, and the massed undead leveled their weapons and began to advance. The undead crow took wing once more, fleeing the building on a silent errand. "For I shall not let you stay dead for long." All seeing. All knowing. All scumbag.

10-Jun-2015 19:45:37

Loaned Shark

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The necromancer held his pose for a second, and then his shoulders slumped. The little piece of theatre over, the zombies settled back into resting positions and retreated to line the halls, and the Bearers resumed their chanting and painting about the corpses. Although, as more bodies were dragged in, the undead no longer left in search of more. "Was that an appropriate response? I have slept for so long, and ostentatious, overdrawn megalomania," he jerked his staff towards the hall, "Sits ill with me. You did well, Soahc's 'righteous' reputation notwithstanding."

"Why do you come before me?" The ghost waved away the obvious retort, "Oh, you told me what you are here for. You seek to challenge me to a duel," he looked over the knight, "One I suspect I will lose. But, why? We serve the same master," he paused, loathing the word, but it was accurate and so he pressed on, "So what do you profit from this?" It occurred to him that this was Soahc he was dealing with, in effect, and that chaos was its own reward. Still, it was worth asking.

An ostentatious, overdrawn monologue, it had to be said, and Ubaid would not be in the least surprised if Brodus got bored half way through, interrupted him and attacked. Should that happen, he would snatch up and draw his sword, keeping the podium between himself and the fallen knight, while his servants surged forwards. All seeing. All knowing. All scumbag.

10-Jun-2015 19:45:52

Loaned Shark

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The Plucky Hecatonchire

"Definitely interested." And not just because of the food, but that helped.

Sir Charles took a seat, nodding his thanks to Karstone and the overworked bartender in turn. "I heard the stories," he said unnecessarily, "Of ogres that had learned to work with steel, to form armies and cities to rival our own without constantly trying to murder one another. An army of magic and might, each soldier thrice the size of a man or more..." he shuddered. "The power they would wield is troubling to any sane man."

"Although..." He thought for a second, and then decided 'to Hell with it, it's Karstone, I might as well speak my mind'. "Devil's advocate, what makes you so sure we have to stop anything? I grant you, we're in trouble if they turn their swords south and march on the rest of the world, but the Tyrannian Empire is looking to fill that niche already. If we fear power, then when we are done here we have a lot more work to do.

"Whatever force has given the ogres their strength, I doubt it's entirely evil." He held up a placating hand. "Or at least, good can come of it. They've learned to work together about as well as humanity does, they've been given marvels to their eyes, it's all new. The ogres have been offered hope, a chance to be something, and where there is hope the scum latch on as well. It could be a dark purpose, or they could be taking the first few steps to becoming a proper civilisation all at once, and I wouldn't want us to march in banging our drums and throw them back down if we didn't have to."

He didn't need to wait and see the inevitable look on Karstone's face. "I know, I know, it's going to be a dark purpose, the Apocalypse writ small, good things don't happen. I'm just saying , let's go and make sure first." He shrugged. "Besides, originally I was just going this way to sight-see. Miracle monsters, and so on. We might as well look around a bit before we start fighting for our lives." All seeing. All knowing. All scumbag.

10-Jun-2015 20:29:39

NotFishing

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Brodus

Brodus actually allowed Ubaid to finish his monologue, smiling once he realized Ubaid had just been playing along and not taking his original sarcastic words seriously. Still, he had every intention of challing and defeating the necromancer who stood before him.

"Correction, we do not serve the same master." Brodus answered simply. "Rather, I am doing this to prove myself worthy of serving him. In a way, it is a test for both of us. Oh, and taking your soul will be a reward in itself."

The eyes on his sword's skull then glowed a bright red, and on the right side of the pile a group of ethereal heavily armored soldiers appeared. But despite their transparent appearance, they were actually quite solid. There was only one line, long enough to go between the wall and the pile. They raised both shield and spear, creating a wall. They were the souls of a group of elite warriors Brodus had slain a few weeks ago, and were skilled and equpped enough to buy him a decent amount of time with the necromancer. Behind them, three more warriors appeared to act as a rearguard.

Meanwhile, on the left hand side, two spiritual mages appeared. One conjured up a barrier to block off the hordes, while the other created a barrier to shield their rear. Hopefully these souls weren't going to waste... he had been saving them for a special occasion.

As for the undead on this side of the church, he rapidly swung his sword in the direction of each one, sending out a wave of dark energy at each capable of cutting a man jn half. Then, he wheeled to face the necromancer, sword raised and at the ready for the attack that would ineivitably come. Beneath the gold, the Bitter Steel.

10-Jun-2015 20:54:32 - Last edited on 10-Jun-2015 20:55:48 by NotFishing

D F Angel

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The Leprechaun's Foot

Etheldredda was pleased with the positive responses she was getting, less so with the constant questioning. She reasoned that such a reaction would be normal, but still, the hagspawn was eager to set off on the journey. She'd spent eighteen years a slave, and in as many days, she would become a liberator.

"They cast powerful illusions," Etheldredda told Kuro. "And brew noxious potions that befuddle the senses. But the coven's grown too large for the hags themselves to focus on this; they send out their children instead. Hagspawn are beautiful, but not magical. Make sure your eyes don't wander and you'll be fine."

Etheldredda then gave a courteous nod towards Joric, who thankfully had chosen to speak few words. A man (well, dwarf,) who had his heart out for adventure, and didn't need to read the small print. She could respect that.

Meanwhile, Monsieur Federico's eyes had lit up at the words that Kuro had spoken to him, about a business venture. "Oui? Kuro my boy, I always knew you were something special!" He threw his arm around the half-demon, pulling him in to an amicable embrace. "Yes, let us talk numbers. Sweet, sweet numbers!" Crocodile tears ran down his blushless cheeks.

Rovaan's question took the woman off-guard, as though she had been trying her best not to consider the circumstances that were forcing her hand, for they were so terrifying as to make her not want to return. But knowing the destruction that could be caused, Etheldredda knew also that she morally could not turn away from this.

"The most powerful member of the coven is called The Great Mother, we were never told her true name. I doubt even if most of the hags themselves know. Hags cannot breed more hags, they can only make hagspawn like me. In order to continue the species, a hag must become powerful enough that she is able of summoning one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet... The Hagfather." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jun-2015 01:31:46

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[RP] Into The Fire