RuneScape Forum Archive | [RP] Into The Fire

D F Angel

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Surrounding the bonfire was the full force of Myrkviðr. There were some twenty hags, unmistakable with their hunched backs, their ancient and writhed faces, their twisted gaits and horrific screeching, as together they performed the ritual to summon the Hagfather. Presiding over the incantation was the most old and withered of them all, stood upon a throne made of skulls, wrapped up in shawl and robes of darkest black, a great hooked nose that crept down to meet her protruding chin, eye-bags upon eye-bags leading up to eyes so sunken that they could hardly be said to be present at all, save for the yellow glow at the end of that tunnel of loose skin, eyes that had seen kingdoms rise and fall, eyes that had seen the enslavement of hundreds, the death of thousands.

With the hags were their oldest hagspawn daughters, that were useless for attracting males and were loyal enough to have been given some skill at the hag's crude magic. The hagspawn daughters of elven males were the most honoured of these- their long lives meant that they were almost always taken on as apprentices to their mothers, and after the hags themselves were the greatest in the dark arts of the coven. Surrounding these were the huts of the hags, the kennels for the hagspawn and the halls for experiments most fowl. Between them were great pits, iron bars preventing any from escape, but allowing the hags to look in, to choose their prey. These were the breeding pits, where all those enslaved by the hags were stored- where Etheldredda's father would be, should he be alive.

These pits were themselves guarded by those hagspawn which had dwarven fathers. They were the most pitiable, considered third-class citizens by their parents, they were used to forge the iron prisons, to blow the glass constructs which held their poisons and potions, and to be the eternal guardians of the coven, should it ever come under attack. Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:20:15

D F Angel

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Surrounding the coven's buildings itself were the most common of the hagspawn breeds, Etheldredda's own kin, those who were part-human. The hunters, both of beast and of man. Some were the daughters of the hags, some grand daughters, or great-grand daughters. Their place in the coven was decided by how much hag blood they had in them, rather than by seniority of age. There were dozens of them, armed with spear and with bow, some with sword and shield or other weapons they had scavenged. They formed a loose circle around the entire coven, meaning there was no way of sneaking in.

Etheldredda hissed through her mask in frustration at the defences, as both great anticipation and great fear fought for domination inside of her. It had been three years since she had escaped the clutches of the hags. Some of the faces she recalled, though most of the hagspawn were not allowed to fraternise with the children of other hags. The hags themselves loved to plot against one another, and could not have anyone interfering with that goal. The hags too she recognised- some she knew better than the Great Mother herself, who often kept herself secluded in her dark hall.

The fog of the spell which rose up into the heights of the trees obscured what was above from them, though Etheldredda did not doubt that was where the suspiciously absent spiders were dwelling. It was clear- they had one shot, and one alone.

Keeping low, Etheldredda crept over next to Annie, pointing towards the slave pits. She knew Annie had been a spy once, had spied on Etheldredda herself, and hoped the girl had not forgotten the skills she had learnt there. "Get them out," she told Annie simply, in a whisper. The part-dwarf hagspawn wielded flails and mauls, crudely forged, and to get to them Annie would have to get through the circle of regular hagspawn that surrounded the entire coven. Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:20:30

D F Angel

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Etheldredda moved next to Rovaan. She figured he would need less instruction than Annie, and so simply tapped at his bow and whispered, "Throne." There was only one throne, the throne of skulls where the Great Mother stood, single arm stretched forward, magic channelling out of her like lightning. She was flanked by the hag Etheldredda recognised to be Morgne, the Great Mother's first-born, and what appeared to be another hagspawn, hooded in grey, both of whom were providing power towards the pyre.

Next Etheldredda came to Zed, and pointed his staff towards the demon which hung, writhing in agony, above the magical bonfire. It wasn't clear if Etheldredda wanted him to kill the demon, to free him, or to simply break the pole he was attached to and drop him into the fire to see what would happen. Perhaps Etheldredda did not know herself which she wished to happen, and so left it up to the albino's discretion.

Tapping Joric on the shoulder, Etheldredda began skulking around the outskirts of the clearing, evidently wanting the dwarf to follow. She positioned herself in a wedge occupied by some of the younger hags, (though this fact would never have been clear to anyone who did not know the hags personally- they were born old, and the most senior hags could be differentiated from the most junior only due to the centuries which separated their birth,) working under the assumption that the weakest, slowest, oldest or otherwise least threatening hagspawn would be placed here in defence.

Her hand reached down for her signature spiked mace, hesitated, then instead reached behind her back, unsheathing the monstrous orcish scimitar which sat there and wielding it two-handed. Her iron mask turned to observe Joric, to try and read what was occurring in the dwarf's mind, but turned away just as fast. She did not wish to see doubt, and through that feel doubt herself. Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:20:45

D F Angel

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Taking a deep breath, Etheldredda stood tall, and exhaling, charged.

Slayer of Azul

Seeing Cirion withdraw and then discard his weapons, Vianna did the same, though much more sceptically, and made sure to position herself a few steps behind Cirion, as though wishing to use the elf as a human shield.

The centaur herd was heralded by the sound of a hundred hooves falling in unison, a crackling, thunderous applause which beckoned them onward. They moved in an arc, showing the full length of the herd- it was large, even by the standards of the centaurs. They came around, circling the two once, twice, thrice, before trotting to a halt.

They wore little clothing, as was their wont. They carried bows and spears and javelins, though some had for them sickles and scimitars, forged no doubt by the satyrs that were granted refuge in the Great Plains. Some had constellations painted out on their body in woad, across the chest or on the arms. They did not wear any clothes on their rumps, as they found clothing their horse-parts demeaning, as though it would equate them to the equines that were taken in by humans as mounts.

They were clearly sceptical and suspicious, but not openly hostile- not that they had need to be. They had vast numbers and the two completely surrounded, but some appeared to nod approvingly at the discarded weapons. They muttered to one another, though none engaged Cirion or Vianna in conversation. Soon, they began to part, creating a pathway through which the leaders of their herd could march towards the foreigners in their land. Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:21:12

D F Angel

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First of the group was a female centaur, two diagonal bands of leather obscuring her bust. The clothing was perhaps worn in order to confirm her gender, for she wore a nemes headdress with mask, its gold leaf long since having flaked away in places, signs of rust creeping in. It was an ancient helm, clearly scavenged from the countless ruins of empires past one could find in the Great Plains, often worn by stallions wishing to establish their conquering nature.

After her came two men, one old enough that his hair can gone to grey, his beard had long since fallen out and a few wisps of hair still clung to just above the ears, swept back, though his grey moustache stood strong and his bushy eyebrows showed no sign of erosion. The other was younger, though not necessarily young, with reddish-brown mutton chops and hair tied into a top bun. They were both strong looking, and flanked out once arriving in the circle that had been made around Cirion, each of them followed by a few other centaurs, submissive and silence, their honour guard.

Last of all came a centaur whose blond beard stretched down to his naval, and whose hair was tied into dreadlocks. He wore a green flag over his left shoulder, which had depicted upon it a man in red, holding a sword to the heavens. It was the same image that had once been carried by Abraxus Richardson, a flag that had not been flown in nearly four-hundred years. The war banner of Arran.

It was the female bedecked in the ancient, ceremonial mask that spoke first. "An elf and a human, at the head of an army of the damned and dead. Fleeing persecution or scouting ahead. What say you, Breymaire?"

The blond centaur with the bushy beard and the flag-as-halfcape trotted forth. "It is no ploy, Zarleigh. He displays before us a wand- no machination of Soahc would be so foolish as to antagonise us with such blatant magic." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:21:28

D F Angel

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"Just so," agreed Zarleigh. "The elf can only be an adventurer, out here. This must be the resistance."

"The kinship of elves and centaurs goes back millennia," said Breymaire to Cirion with a friendly smile. "When the elven forests fostered our persecuted race. I hope we achieve a symbiosis on par with the friendship of old. Pray, tell us, what is the make and measure of this evil we must face?"

March of Darkness

Cold Ethyl was stunned silent when Mechanical Spirry referred to her as Hot Alkyl, though Soahc cackled all the more. The old-goat mercenary captain, Raspur Cain, had shuffled up to them once more and had a good chortle at that too.

Soahc gave Kira an amicable once-over when she declared herself a better suitor, but seemed content in not getting involved with the arguments of the rabble for now. Cold Ethyl herself was ready to snap at the young wench, until the cold, dead, embalmed hand of Ubaid found itself prodding her elbow. She might have straightened up from shock if not for being a hunch-back, and she scowled deeply into the half-broken mask which revealed the void beneath, but shrewdly took the ghost's advice to not further antagonise.

Behind, the undead forces of Ubaid seemed preparing for something, some unseen danger, or else to try and overthrow their leader preemptively. The return of Ethyl's three sisters- lithe Glyn, silent Rutt and stout Sylvi, gave answer to this cause.

"Hagspawn says there's trouble afoot," said Glyn in a faux sing-song voice. "Centaurs ahead. Known for being quite rampant during mating season, are they not?" The hag seemed to be looking forward to a good ravaging. Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:21:52

D F Angel

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"Silence," Ethyl snapped at her younger, more immature sibling. "Ghost, I have nought for you. These jewels are my birthright." By birthright, Ethyl of course meant she had killed or enslaved countless men for them, rather than having been given them- but still, hags were naturally greedy, and Ethyl was more haggish than most.

"Oh, the ponies will come in their own time," said Soahc airily about the problem. "They're quite amicable creatures, I find. Still, be prepared to kill them all, as per."

The centaur problem was still a long way off yet- at least three miles, for they could not be seen over the horizon. The grass around them was growing longer, waist height, and there wasn't a tree in sight, clear indications that they had entered the Great Plains .

"Mother's begun the ritual," aired Rutt, a crimson-wearing hag with a particularly enlarged hunchback. Though they were many miles away from the hag coven of Myrkviðr, it appeared that she could sense the tremors of magic on the wind.

"Grimhilde has signed her death warrant," corrected Ethyl, using her mother's real name as a final sign of defiance. "I am the future of the hags. Bloodgift, it would not bode well for you to rescind on your promise."

"Why does nobody ever trust me?" Soahc asked rhetorically. "Kira darling, please don't antagonise our elderly friend further. As much as breeding animosity between you gives me protection from being usurped, I'm going to need all of your talents if I am to succeed. So please do play nicely."

"Nicely at what?" Asked Ethyl, eyes narrowed. "Sacked three towns for no reason, and a fourth to get this waste," she gestured meaninglessly in the direction of the Grand Priest of Soahc, who tried his best to look insulted- a difficult feat when behind a mask. "What are we doing, Bloodgift? My patience wears thin." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:22:11

D F Angel

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"I don't think your patience has ever been thick," retorted Soahc with a sly smile. "You want to know? I can't say! My father's eye is fixed on me, I can feel it in the air," he stuck a middle finger into the sky, "Let's just say it is my best scheme yet. And if you see it to its conclusion, you will all have what you came here for."

Turning directly to Ethyl he said, "I'll need to celebrate my victory, in the only way mortals know how. Your asking price was a child- I will give you more, I will give you a land where the hags can live, free of persecution."

Swivelling on his heels, he faced next Mechanical Spirry. "I promise you that your Newborn counterpart will die. I've added that little detail to my plan. What you do after, I don't care, but if there's more you want, then let me know."

Then he was staring at Kira. "I'm afraid childbirth was a one-time only offer," he said regrettably, "But you already know what I'm getting you. Quite the consolation prize, wouldn't you say?"

Next, Brodus. "I'm not really sure if you've said what you wanted. Souls, for sure. The town we sacked? A taster! I will rend more souls than has ever been achieved before in one fell swoop, and you will be there to collect them. Your sword will be fit to burst, and you will be immortal."

Sileo. "I get an I-just-want-money vibe from you. I like that, I miss the days of simple goals. Everyone has some lofty ambition these days. Me included, haha! You'll be rich after this, certainly. A kingdom of riches will be ripe for the taking. I suppose you could have the kingdom too, if you wanted, though you might need to find yourself some new citizens."

Ubaid. "You... Well of course, the first thing you'll get is what's in the place we discussed. But there's something else I can offer you, too. Once you realise what it is, I do hope you make the right choice. I'm very old, and know what was forgotten." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:22:26

D F Angel

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Continuing his spinning act, Soahc found that the only person he had yet to address was Raspur Cain. "And you... What do you want again?"

The aged mercenary chuckled, removing a crystal from his pocket and throwing it into the air, catching it again and slipping it away.

"Of course, gold again. Sure, you'll get your gold. Gold for everyone! Now, that's it. I've laid all my cards on the table. Perhaps we can dispense with the hostilities and recommence with the villainy? You are all a part of the Great Game now, and I'm near enough ready to play my winning move."

Siera's Plight

"Pets tend to be uncontrollable," agreed Thorek II, smiling broadly at the cheek of the hound that had acquired itself a seat. "I knew a dwarf by name of Torfor who had himself a giant spider for a pet. Can't see the appeal, personally. I wonder how that came to be," he scratched his beard as he scanned his memory banks, wondering if he ever did ask that dwarf how he acquired his arachnid companion, and then shrugged it off- just as all those years ago he'd shrugged when he saw the spider-riding dwarf in the first place. As Thorek chose not to judge someone of their abnormalities in life, but on the strength of their character.

"He was an engineer in my troop in the War for Dilendain. Sent his spider overhead to drop these bell-things on the enemy," Thorek made a round gesture with his hands, clearly trying to make a visual demonstration but finding it impossible to describe the item in question. "High frequency sounds, drove them mad. I had Even'star leading the vanguard, a giant amongst men- never mind dwarves! I lead our main forces and my great-great-nephew, Alrik, was with the reserves. It was a suicide mission. The enemy outnumbered us six to one. We hadn't a prayer of defeating them in the field." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:23:22 - Last edited on 11-Jul-2016 03:36:00 by D F Angel

D F Angel

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For a suicide mission, Thorek seemed rather wistful in the remembrance of events, for a broad grin was stretching across his face. "It was a distraction. I'd sent Captain Ironfist across the surface with a hit squad to take the Vordn Watchtower, then burrow his way behind the enemy. I came down with my forces- they must'** thought I was making a last stand so that the rear guard might escape, but instead they stole across the surface and went down the tunnel, carrying their cannons with them. Hah! There's no greater joy than the scattering of a foe, or of the taste of a hard-won victory."

Thorek chuckled once more, wiping away a solitary tear, before shaking his head to come out of his reverie. "But that's enough about me. You say you were under a demon's thrall, and in that moment tried to make a puppy? Should I take you at your word, or assume this is the set-up to some punchline? Adventuring makes mockery of us all, Siera. Arran told me that, and he was right to this day, gods rest his soul. Nothing is as it seems when you're an adventurer, and half the time you cause half the trouble yourself! No, retirement suits me fine."

He sighed, perhaps a sigh of content, but there seemed to be a bitterness to it, a hint that the old general was not quite as at peace as he would like to appear.

"So, who's the lucky fellow?" He asked, and his wide grin was back on his face. "This fabled 'someone'. Putting the ellipsis beforehand was a real give away. Oh, to be young and in love once again. Tell me all about him, and perhaps I can bestow upon you some wisdom. I was quite the catch in my day, you know." Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

11-Jul-2016 03:23:54 - Last edited on 11-Jul-2016 03:36:46 by D F Angel

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[RP] Into The Fire