RuneScape Forum Archive | [RP] Into The Fire

Venom1383

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Sileo

Sileo was startled by Raspur's command, though he figured he had been planning something. A shame he didn't fall for it, it would've been hilarious.

As the Elf let loose a series of dark fire blasts, Kristov threw his razor and drew his sword. They were probably expecting him to try to dodge all of the projectiles, perhaps to maneuver him into some kind of a trap. So Sileo advanced, ducking under the first magical blast and sidestepping the rest. He stepped into Kristov's throw and allowed the blade to glance off his steel shoulder plate.

While the assassin charged towards the two mercenaries, he produced a small tin ball wrapped in leather. He threw the ball at the ground, and it popped, quickly releasing a thick cloud of gray smoke. It was a smaller smoke bomb, designed to produce a dense curtain that dissolved quickly. It would hide him from the aim of the Elf mage and the blunderbuss wielder, as well as conceal his next few moves.

Sileo drew his longsword with his right hand and a flintlock pistol with his left. Under the cover of the smoke, he fired off a shot at the Shrouded Elf, wanting to take him down first. He was likely fast enough to avoid it, but at least it would give him a moment's reprieve from those incessant fireballs. By now the smoke had stopped spreading and started dissolving, but it still hung in the air, blocking him from the view of Rynold. He knew he couldn't stay under it for too long, as the mercenaries could fire into the smoke and he wouldn't see them coming, so he pressed forward out of the cloud. Ramsay Bolton is the king we deserve.

02-Jul-2015 20:03:02 - Last edited on 03-Jul-2015 23:12:14 by Venom1383

Venom1383

Posts: 4,159 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Next, Sileo threw his empty firearm at Kristov with just enough force to break a man's nose, and then he swung his sword at Kristov's thigh, planning to slice open his femoral artery. He expected the thrown pistol to cause the mercenary to panic, or if he stayed calm, he would focus on dodging, blocking, or catching the pistol instead of avoiding Sileo's blade. Assuming Kristov had no ace up his sleeve, this would create an opening for Sileo's longer blade to easily reach past Kristov's defense. Or the pistol could actually hit him, shatter his nose, cause his eyes to water, and allow the assassin to slice him open. He kept his offhand ready in case Kristov or any of the other mercenaries decided to counterattack. Ramsay Bolton is the king we deserve.

02-Jul-2015 20:03:14

Corbonyo

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Desmond's smile disappeared when the man grabbed his arm. Almost instantly he made a fist with his index finger pointed at the man's face. "I did not say you could touch me." He said with a slight anger in his voice. "I'm not going anywhere... especially without my sidekick." Ignoring what Rickard had said, and any argument with prove fruitless.

Desmo was not fond of strangers, since he had to rely on himself for most things. "The thorns need to be taken out, and wrapped in cloth i don't need no labrotony to do that." He said while looking at Rickard. "Take your hands off me." He said sternly while shifting view back to the man.

(If the man does not remove his hands)

Desmo quickly recites, as if practiced for years, "Clouds roar, and bones break." He said it quietly so it would not draw much attention, even from Rickard. He held back the blast, so that only a small spark would be released. Only the man would have been able to see the tiny blue light that trailed out of Desmo's finger and quickly dissipated. If Desmond was moved to much or put in a stressful situation, he would no longer be able to hold back the spell and it would release.

02-Jul-2015 20:12:28

NarBloodwolf

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''Well that was answered simple enough.'' commented Rovaan as several volunteered for the first watch.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly although, it was only the beginning of the journey. But, the warning that something was up ahead concerned Rovaan slightly. It raised may questions in his mind. Was it a bandit clan up ahead or did the Hags know of Ethel's plan and sent out a force to meet them? Having conflict this early in a journey usually meant that the rest of the journey would not be so easy. Either way, Rovaan was not about to be caught of guard nor die here, this early into the journey. As they neared the patchwork bridge, Rovaan drew the string on his bow tight ready to let it fly at the first sign of hostile actions.

As the group neared ever closer to the bridge, Rovaan got an itching feeling. The bone gauntlet on his arm seemed to burn as they traveled further and further down the road. The runes that covered the gauntlet seemed to glow dimly, something they had not done before. But the oddest thing was the ruby that was set into the gauntlet. Within its facets a great fire roared to life and grew the further down the path Rovaan went.

~Bloody hell......not now....not yet. Just stay sealed damn it. This is not the time......~ Rovaan thought frustratingly to himself.

03-Jul-2015 02:57:18

Inferi

Posts: 35,939 Sapphire Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Farmlands

It couldn’t see what it was feeling, and it did*’t have any idea what it had come across. All that was there was movement, and the movement itself was very strange. At first it felt as though a rock was moving, which would not have been an abnormality on its own, but the timing coincided too perfectly with the crossing of the horse up ahead. Then it got more serious, and appendages that looked almost like arms began to move upwards and towards their companion on the bridge. Whatever they were was bad, and this had to be a trap of some kind. Was it waiting for them specifically? Probably not, but that wouldn’t stop it from killing them if it got the chance.

A screech from the flute rang out across the area, and Siera’s head snapped up. The instrument dove, coming to a stop in front of her as it made several frantic whistles whilst circling her head. Everyone else would be able to tell that there was something dangerous, but only she would be able to decipher anything it meant. It had taken years to understand what the flute was trying to say, and she did*’t even question that she somehow understood the language anymore. It had never lied, and so if it said that there was danger up ahead she was certainly going to believe it.

Grabbing the instrument out of the air, an act to which it offered no resistance, the musician put it to her lips and began to play. She did*’t even think about the fact that she hadn’t been using magic or did*’* want to use magic for a while, for a companion was in danger and that superseded any desire of her own. It wasn’t clear what they were facing, but that did*’t even matter. Something was trying to threaten her comrades, and she needed time to gather magic in order to do anything.

Hopefully Kuro would be all right while everyone else realized what was happening… Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

03-Jul-2015 04:37:14

Inferi

Posts: 35,939 Sapphire Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The Cathedral

Up on her perch, Kira frowned. She had been hoping that they would still want to fight, for she had wanted a show. It wasn’t just that, though; she wanted to see the capabilities of those she would likely end up being forced to fight when Soahc finally betrayed her. Although she held herself in much higher esteem than anyone else, she was not a fool. The Lord of Chaos wouldn’t take weaklings into his employ, at least not ones that he cared about enough to make them prove themselves. She had not been forced to go through any such trials for obvious reasons, but it was a common right of passage for those that would serve a real purpose.

His work of pitting soldiers against each other just made her sense of betrayal even more well-founded, but as she had decided before it did not matter. Her goal simply needed to be completed before he lost a use for her, as she would then lose her use for him. The feeling of mutual usefulness was likely the only thing that kept them from betraying each other already, although she couldn’t deny that she wouldn’t mind sampling a bit more of his physical capabilities. A child of fire and chaos, although not a priority in any sense, would be quite a gift to the world.

“

Of course you may.

” she replied, a fire once again appearing on the rafter next to her and on the ground several feet from both combatants. She stood up and, once again, vanished into the fire, reappearing out of the one down on the cathedral altar. Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

03-Jul-2015 04:37:25

Inferi

Posts: 35,939 Sapphire Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“

All he wants is the pair of you to get back to him alive.

” she said with a grin. “

And of course I am the one he was waiting for. Who else could possibly merit it more?

”

Her part said and no further fun to be had here, the pyromistress turned, the two fires remaining simultaneously going out as she started walking for the exit. She had no fear of either opponent attacking, for they both seemed subservient to Soahc – at least for the moment – and knowing that she was the one he had specifically waited for would undoubtedly stop them from being hostile. The swordsman wanted his favor and the necromancer did*’t seem to be ready to put any plan of downfall into action, and so she had no concern about either. Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

03-Jul-2015 04:37:31

Own Amnesty

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AHAD

In a store now abandoned, one man stood analyzing the finespun textures of a black seersucker garment, embroidered with silvery stitching in the shape of a twisting and turning dragon. His eyes were closed, for they felt a bit dry, and the astute pads of his fingers amplified the subtleties of the shirt. Though he was deprived of sight, he could visualize what he felt, and he smiled. It would be just perfect. He opened his eyes again, and their phthalo green shone in what little light made its way through the shop’s musty windows.

Nearby, there was some commotion.

He looked down at his own shirt; white, worn, stained, torn. Stepping through the cacophony of mismatched and misplaced items comprising the boutique’s inventory, he found himself standing where its proprietor had stood just moments ago. He removed his shirt, glanced to his left - his coat still awaited him, draped over a counter - and donned the new one. The storekeeper was long gone.

Outside, there was more noise.

The man tucked his new shirt into his trousers. Besides prominently displaying the handiwork of a Khaliyan weaver, the shirt complemented his physique well enough; its sleeves flared, its hem exposed adequate acreage of his toned chest. Assuring its stability, the man looked down to ensure that his pants remained pleated and secured by the bandages around his calves, and that his sandals were not crooked. He could not walk with inadequate arch support, no.

At this point in time, the screaming could be heard.

He brought his hands to the back of his head and pulled loose a short length of twine from his hair before tying it up again in a low ponytail. He had felt the beginning of its unraveling. With some assistance, his coat found its way round his arms again. It was a black red - darker than blood, surely, but not quite black as tar - and silk, one of few fabrics that had allowed him sufficient breathability in the Khaliyan wastes.

Joe? It's your post on Hard Times.

03-Jul-2015 14:02:14 - Last edited on 03-Jul-2015 14:04:04 by Own Amnesty

Own Amnesty

Posts: 21,305 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Its collar - stiff, unfolded and bolt-upright - reached nearly to his nose when the front of the jacket was done-up, and its tail formed a neat circle around his ankles. It was distinctive, he knew, and he considered why he had not been identified or apprehended as of yet. Had word of his status not reached this Kingdom? Were all here of criminal inclination? He wasn’t, not strictly speaking. Somewhere, in a small space relegated to irrational thought in his mind, he knew that he would be caught eventually. That part of his brain elected to discard the coat. But the larger part felt it too sentimental. He would keep it for now.

The oaky scent of smoke reached his nose.

He closed his eyes once more, and rolled on his neck loftily toward the door. When they opened, they were glassy, and he was elsewhere. His field of view, strictly confined, now found its source at that of the fire. Nothing to be seen. To the source of the screaming, and he found his match. It was Soahc.

Outside the store, Soahc, Demigod of Chaos, wreaked havoc.

He blinked twice, with great force first and then lightly, for his eyes were dry, and he returned. With a ragged breath, he stepped forward and out into the street. As he passed a mirror, he was reflected: Nose narrow, framed by tear troughs which nearly met the edges of his lips to form a triangle. Scar tissue, which formed a neat, shallow line across his trachea, caught and reflected light from a hanging lantern. He exhaled forcefully, mimicking a sigh. The man, who took the name Ahad, had found himself profoundly skilled at mimicry.

Joe? It's your post on Hard Times.

03-Jul-2015 14:02:42

Own Amnesty

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Stepping out into the streets of Oakton, Ahad found, was akin to dropping into a rapidly flowing river. Civilians, crammed into the narrow street, parted around him as they fled from Soahc’s bloodletting. Most found their way around the man with little difficulty; one, however, collided with him head-on. Both were startled, though only the runner fell to the ground. As he took hold of silk and stood, Ahad recoiled slightly, and their eyes met. The runner’s pupils pinned and then expanded greatly, and he crumpled to the ground. Ahad clutched at his temples, for his head seared and his eyes felt suddenly dry.

He continued forward in the wrong direction, eyes locked on the ground, as the burning pain lethargically dissolved from his head. As he approached Gorebucks, the crowd thinned - not only was the street wider now, but the majority of those who fled had passed him already. In fact, the street was nearly empty now, and eerily quiet. As Ahad looked up, he noted in his line of sight several corpses: One, he believed, belonged to a cultist he had met previously, a man called Molloran.

Ahad grunted - this time, with feeling. Around Molloran’s body, a collection of mercenaries exchanged blows. He observed from a distance he had deemed appropriate, and focused on the gunman, who appeared to be a killer-for-hire of much higher caliber. Soahc was not to be found in Ahad’s line of sight, but the Khaliyan reasoned that he who survived the brawl would be he who guided him to the Demigod. And so he watched.

Joe? It's your post on Hard Times.

03-Jul-2015 14:03:22

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[RP] Into The Fire