RuneScape Forum Archive | [RP] Into The Fire

D F Angel

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She tapped a gauntleted finger onto her mask, which had been forged in the likeness of an engorged monstrosity, with overlapping skin, looking akin to a tumorous growth. "They revere the Hagfather as a god. It is a mindless beast that feeds off of magic, and so it takes an extremely powerful hag to attract its attention. If the Great Mother sought only to mate with it, that would be problematic enough, but I have greater worries..."

Etheldredda looked from one adventurer to the other, in order to make sure she had their full attention before continuing. "The Great Mother's oldest children are almost as powerful as she is. When a Hagfather mates, his seed lasts for decades. Though each child is weaker than the last, unless the mother is killed, she will keep on giving birth. Myrkviðr has been left untouched for centuries, there are more than enough hags there that collectively they would be able to contain the Hagfather, and use its power indefinitely."

Though perhaps the others would not appreciate the significance of this, to Etheldredda there could not be a worse situation. She had heard horror stories of the Hagfather since birth, made more horrific by her family's lust for it, their fantasies of dominance, of capturing the immortal behemoth and using it as a weapon against the world.

"There were upwards of thirty hags when I left," Etheldredda informed Zed. "And each of them given birth to countless hagspawn. The hagspawn have been trained in hunting and combat, and the well-behaved ones in the magical arts. Most of the older hagspawn have children of their own, and those have children too."

Turning away from Zed to face the group as a whole again, Etheldredda told them all the truth, as straight and to the point as she could make it. "Make no mistake, we'll be attacking a small army and in their own territory. I doubt if most of us will make it out alive. This is your only chance to turn away. Decide now." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jun-2015 01:31:56

D F Angel

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"And you would be best keeping that pipe away from me," Etheldredda warned Siera as an aside, clearly not thrilled with being pranged between the eyes, the metal making a dull thunk at the collision.

---

Meanwhile, at the bar of The Leprechaun's Foot was Azim, who was talking with a not-too-enthusiastic barkeep. "That'll get you some sausages and potatoes, and a half-pint of ale," he said, regarding the coin with disdain, but also snatching it up before any protests could be made about the offered meal. Biting the coin to be sure, and ending up rupturing his tooth instead of the currency, he placed the money in his apron pocket and spoke to someone in the back about food before returning.

"No skills, eh?" He chuckled. The barkeep had once thought of joining a Mages Guild, but had decided against education. The world told him he'd be a nobody if he didn't go to school, but look at him now! The barkeep at a notable establishment, whilst this new-graduate had nothing to his name but some questionable sausages. "You do what all wasters that are too lazy to hold down a real job do." He nodded towards the group of adventurers that Azim had passed by on his entrance into the tavern. "You become a bloody adventurer."

Gorebucks

Soahc sighed fondly as Brodus and Sileo left the building. "They grow up so fast," he joked, wiping away an imaginary tear. But he rolled his eyes at Ryokin's re-evaluation of the parameters of the deal that Soahc came up with. "You drive a hard bargain," he confided in the demon, "But I simply abhor a missed opportunity. Deal! Deal!" He cut his hand open, and offered it to the Lord of the Crossroads to shake.

With that grim business done, Soahc turned towards the exit. "Feel free to have your fun with this lot," the demigod told the demon, gesturing towards the patrons still trapped within the building. "Excuse me whilst I take a stroll..." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jun-2015 01:32:05

D F Angel

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Stepping outside of the ruined establishment, Soahc was met with the ox-drawn carriage that they had taken along with them. The inhabitants of the carriage were shaking the structure almost off of its wheels, the scent of blood had sent them into that much of a frenzy. This of course made the god smile, and looked up to the front of the carriage, where a young man was chained up like he was to be crucified.

"You're catching quite a tan," the Deceiver observed.
"Go to hell," spat back the captive, whose kneecaps had been stabbed straight through by Soahc himself. Brown haired, blue eyed and in now-ragged clothing, the boy's name was Cadmus Solar, and he was of passing interest to the Lord of Chaos.
"I honestly don't know why you mortals associate me with demons," Soahc said honestly, conveniently forgetting the demon pact he'd made all of ten seconds ago.
"Calling me a mortal doesn't make you immortal," Cadmus told him, having found defiance in his kidnapping. "And even gods can die, I've seen it."

"And they call me mad." Soahc strolled away from Cadmus to the back of the carriage, where a priest had been tied by his hands to the back and had been dragged along for most of the journey, when he'd grown too tired to keep the pace. "That one's seen a god die, and this one believes in a ten year old god." He laughed heartily. "I'll enjoy killing your pretty Annie Wells, priest."

The god's head turned towards the rising flames, as though he'd only taken notice of the fact that the town was being set alight. "That's my call," Soahc noted, sauntering away from Abraxus the priest, adventuring through the streets of Oakfoot centre until he found what he was looking for.

"Kira darling," he let off a low growl in his voice, bouncing his eyebrows towards the red-dressed woman as his eyes roved over her body. "Dressed to kill, I see. Delightful. I would talk business, but I'm afraid my idiot underlings are trying to kill each other." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jun-2015 01:32:14

D F Angel

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Pouting theatrically, as though he wasn't personally the cause of these outbreaks of violence, Soahc continued. "Would you be a doll and help me split them up? It would break my poor little heart to see them hurt," he cackled, unable to keep a straight face at his own lies. "I scryed my corpse-friend at the cathedral, no doubt plotting my downfall. See to it that he, and any opponent he faces, comes back to me alive, would you?" He smiled genuinely, the kind of smile one would give their lover, as he affectionately stroked the woman's chin.

---

Raspur Cain was skulking through alleyways, as skulking was one of his favourite things to do.

At fifty-one years, most people said he was far too old to be in this business. But then again, how many of them had made it over thirty years as a mercenary? He figured that was the reason Soahc the Deceiver had placed him in charge of the other mercenaries, that or the fact he had once lead a bandit brigade back in Rigdon.

He was short, stooped, slightly hunch-backed, with owl-like eyes and a large nose. His hair was greying and cropped short, his clothing covered with hard-leather armour, a whip on his left hip, a flintlock pistol at his right. Right now, Herrod Hostmaker was ensuring the continuation of his family line on the survivors, Gunner Ryold was torturing the mayor's son, and Raspur shuddered to think what Black Axe was getting up to.

These were sick individuals, the kind of sick individuals that would associate with the Demigod of Chaos. Raspur wasn't a man of honour; he had no moral code. But he was never needlessly depraved. Only for the right price.

"We found 'im, boss," came a voice from behind, and Raspur turned cat-quick to see Kristov the Red and the Shrouded Elf dragging Molloran, the leader of the cultists, between them.

"Perfect," Raspur hissed, approaching them with caution... Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jun-2015 01:32:24

D F Angel

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The Plucky Hecatonchire

"I'm not messing with you!" Laughed the man who had escorted Demso inside, taking a step back and holding his arms up in surrender. "Turning me into a frog would make me have a lot more in common with my wife. I'm Richmond Herring, and I come in peace," he offered his right hand to shake, in order to calm down the threatening twelve year old.

---

"I'm pleased to meet you, Alicia," said Alania with her typical smile. She rolled her eyes in good humour when the man Mariuk with his many fancy surnames winked at her. Listening to the man's input on ogre behaviour, which Alania assumed must be somewhat true, as Mariuk appeared to be a local, made her consider her viewpoint more deeply. "Well, it would certainly be interesting to find out how this has happened."

Leaning in and dropping her voice to a whisper, she pointed over towards Karstone Greatjohn, the old, bearded adventurer with the twin hammers, who was currently talking to a particularly scruffy-looking knight. "That man got here the same night as me. Crackpot, if you take my word for it. Thinks there's some conspiracy and that the ogres are being manipulated by some mystery faction. He accused the imperial soldier of as much as well, and anyone else who was near enough to be caught in the crossfire."

Smiling once more, her voice returning to a normal level, she continued, "But I don't think there's anything sinister afoot. I mean, who would profit from violence?" She was apparently unaware that as an adventurer, she was number one on the list of people profiting from violence.

---

"Ah wasn't always a cynic," Karstone told his accomplice, who was right in thinking that the old adventurer didn't believe this mysterious benefactor could be a force for good. "It's seeing the worl' for wha' it is, tha' made me who Ah am," he confided. "Even the gods 'emselves are only out to save their own 'ides." He spat on the floor, phlegmy and disgusting. Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jun-2015 01:32:38

D F Angel

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"There's no good in this worl' 'cept wha' we make for oursens. An' Ah'm not scared of no ogres marchin' south, we've been through worse than tha'. Ah'm scared of who would wanna march 'em south on us." Their food was delivered to them, and Karstone paused to take a long draught of his ale.

"Ah'm no' 'eadin' there to star' a war, sir," he insisted. "Bu' Ah'm afraid we'll be finding one there anyhow..."

((Accepted Loaned Shark, Fysyx)) Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jun-2015 01:32:53

Guthix SS4

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Kuro

Interrupted after whistling at the flute, he heard the answer to his questions about the hags and he said to Federic* who hand puts around him, "Well, this is a business opportunity, you see I noticed you haven't repaired the Champion's guild, and we are about to go into a forest that may have treasure, that may be worth what the land is now worth."

Kuro then said with a hush quiet tone, "I know you are somehow going to disappear before this trip is set up so here is the deal, I will bring you back some treasure from the forest in exchange, you repair the guild that I will help with. This way you get money, to finally repair the guild"

Kuro wanted the guild to be repaired, and he was willing to do all the work to get it repaired. He figured this could fix what he almost did. He was hoping in some way this would remove the thoughts from his head if he did something good like this.
~

Ryokin smiled and shook Soahc's hand the moment he told him he could do what he want with the patrons in the place he said, "Wow a bonus present. Alright, let's see, your master will grant you all his boon. You will be my soldiers of darkness, as I torture you all, and torment your souls until you all become demons! Or until you all die. Or until I get bored and kill the lot of you... I think I am getting bored..."

He walked over to the patrons drawing out his knife and then said, "Lets get to carving," he then turned into his demon form and went at it and started slashing and laughing. His crimson red hide like skin, duel horns on his head, standing as tall as a normal human, with demonic features, his tail thrashed side to side as he began to have what he would call fun.

and nothing was spoiled

11-Jun-2015 02:26:52 - Last edited on 11-Jun-2015 04:09:48 by Guthix SS4

Jul

2011

Annie1227

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Annie was ready to go on this new adventure with the group she fought for a long time with. She waited to see where they going to go. Then said with a confident voice," I am still going no matter the danger is. When are we going? I agree with Kuro about the guild master will leave us because he is a coward." She was ready to stop the mother hag and find Abraxus to save him from Soahc. -Dances-

11-Jun-2015 03:34:51 - Last edited on 11-Jun-2015 11:41:28 by Annie1227

Loaned Shark

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The March of Darkness – the Cathedral

Ah. A reaver.

It took a split second for Ubaid to decide on a course of action. His minions were expendable, and while Soahc might be a little miffed about losing a few grunts they could be replaced at any graveyard of his choosing; he, on the other hand, had telos . He would not permit anything, mortal or otherwise, to stand between him and the Purpose. And so, he gave the orders with a flare of his mind, and raised his left hand to cast.

The gem on his sword flared, and the crow received new instructions. Sent originally to summon the Twins, who were most likely feasting on some poor sap who had screamed at the wrong time, they now had further orders; bring fire. In this town, thanks to the new arrival, that was not going to be difficult. Ubaid just had to hope that they arrived in time to do anything.

Most of the dark blasts found their marks, bisecting the dead as they lunged forward. The rest of the undead horde did what an undead horde did best. With no thought of self preservation, they surged forth, teeth gnashin* and swords hacking furiously. What they lacked in tactics, they more than made up for in durability; the traditional weak point, the brain, or dismemberment was all that would stop them, and as spears were thrust into their bodies they would simply pull themselves further down the shaft for a chance to get closer to their ordained foe.

Without an unoccupied spellcaster - a role Ubaid normally filled - they had no specific counter to the mages beyond more of the same, battering and gnawing furiously on both sides of the arcane shields in the hopes that that would do something. If they failed, then they would just turn and hurl themselves towards the spearmen, Brodus, or anything they hadn't tried to do damage to yet. They weren't worth directing properly when their master was too busy fighting for his own life.

But the two forces, occupying one another, were of little consequence. All seeing. All knowing. All scumbag.

11-Jun-2015 03:40:30

Loaned Shark

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Ubaid's staff was an affectation, nothing more; the instant Brodus' attention was returned to the necromancer he found the oaken stick hurled, unerringly, straight for his eyes. While he dealt with, or tanked, the impromptu missile, Ubaid stepped forward. A bronze greave emerged from his cloak to stamp down on his baldric, his bandaged left hand smacking down on the hilt and drawing the otherwise ordinary greatsword in one smooth motion. He fought plate-and-mail, and as his cloak fell away from him, as he charged around the desecrated altar, the sword spun in a figure-of-eight. At the last second, his spare hand caught the blade halfway along, on the overhead swing. With the extra leverage, he translated the pattern into a vicious downward stab, aiming to pierce Brodus’ throat, drive the sword past his lungs and into his spine

Ubaid had replaced his sword, but his armour remained much the same as it did when he awoke in Copperdale. A shimmering, short-sleeved coat of bronze scales was sewn onto a heavy leather frame, the former reflecting the light like a fish as the ghost wearing it thrust. Bronze plates had been laced onto the backs of his hands, alongside sleeves of bronze which served as vambraces, which were otherwise wrapped in the same old cloth wrappings that hid every inch of his spectral self. The keen observer would note that while the right hand was merely scraped the left looked as though it had been left in the rain for every day of Ubaid’s unlife, the metal green and corroded while the ‘glove’ was yellow and looked fit to crumble with a touch. Pictographs, the by-now-familiar serpents and crocodiles and angular men with the heads of animals, adorned every metallic surface and binded him to the suit, allowing him to possess it as easily as his physical corpse. All still bore the scars of an ancient war, dents and deformities offering weak points in his left flank and right thigh that – until a few seconds ago – he had never really expected to matter. All seeing. All knowing. All scumbag.

11-Jun-2015 03:41:17

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[RP] Into The Fire