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I swear, I spoil you guys with color...
EDIT: Tried so hard to not miss a point. Still did. I'm going to sleep. That is your dose of antics from me for the day.
EDIT 2: NO REST FOR THE WEARY, I SWEAR.... *breaks quill and shoots bedroom door clean off with a cannon in rage* I'm a
I swear, I spoil you guys with color...
EDIT: Tried so hard to not miss a point. Still did. I'm going to sleep. That is your dose of antics from me for the day.
EDIT 2: NO REST FOR THE WEARY, I SWEAR.... *breaks quill and shoots bedroom door clean off with a cannon in rage* I'm a
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24-Feb-2016 20:24:42 - Last edited on 24-Feb-2016 21:35:08 by Rizenel
Congratulation, MAA Campo. ^^
Also...join the Verus family.
Discord: Indie#2017
Also...join the Verus family.
Queen of the
Kingdom of Varrock
Discord: Indie#2017
24-Feb-2016 23:37:56
Unknown Location, Hallowlands Province
Operative: Deacon status: MIA, presumed captured.
Jon Church opened his eyes as the cart came to a halt. His captors sneered and jeered in the harsh Vyrric language. They must have been j**inates, as they had no membranous wings. Shackeled in front and back, they led him into a small stone structure, which Church happened to notice was the only entry into a large, walled compound. He could see no motte, so he assumed it to be some sort of settlement or arena. Before long, a massive, grey-skinned Vampyre approached him. He must have been wealthy, as his wings were decorated with gold chains and baubles. Church stared into him, silent. The Vyre spoke in hushed, passively hostile tones.
"You are VSS, yes?
Church blinked and repeated the same words he'd been saying for hours now to another Vyre.
"Captain Travin Steeple, Royal Varrockian Army. 77th Scouts. 115690."
The Vyre chuckled slightly, shaking his head.
"This is no good. I know you are not a soldier," He motioned to the chest behind and to the left of him, being sat down in a corner of the room.
"Your equipment is of such quality. Not standard issue, you see."
Church spat in his face. The Vyrelord recoiled momentarily, then smiled at him, wiping his grotesque face with a small, black handkerchief.
"Very good. You have will to fight. This I will allow you to do."
The Vyre turned about, and pulled a curtain against the wall, revealing a small table adorned with melee weapons of all types. He then turned to Church, bowed and left wordlessly. A human steward approached him and removed his bindings.
"Stand up sir, *'lord wishes for you to prove your mettle in the pit."
Church blinked once or twice, and allowed the man to remove his bindings. He said nothing.
"I suppose you might wonder what that is," The young man said.
(cont ->
Operative: Deacon status: MIA, presumed captured.
Jon Church opened his eyes as the cart came to a halt. His captors sneered and jeered in the harsh Vyrric language. They must have been j**inates, as they had no membranous wings. Shackeled in front and back, they led him into a small stone structure, which Church happened to notice was the only entry into a large, walled compound. He could see no motte, so he assumed it to be some sort of settlement or arena. Before long, a massive, grey-skinned Vampyre approached him. He must have been wealthy, as his wings were decorated with gold chains and baubles. Church stared into him, silent. The Vyre spoke in hushed, passively hostile tones.
"You are VSS, yes?
Church blinked and repeated the same words he'd been saying for hours now to another Vyre.
"Captain Travin Steeple, Royal Varrockian Army. 77th Scouts. 115690."
The Vyre chuckled slightly, shaking his head.
"This is no good. I know you are not a soldier," He motioned to the chest behind and to the left of him, being sat down in a corner of the room.
"Your equipment is of such quality. Not standard issue, you see."
Church spat in his face. The Vyrelord recoiled momentarily, then smiled at him, wiping his grotesque face with a small, black handkerchief.
"Very good. You have will to fight. This I will allow you to do."
The Vyre turned about, and pulled a curtain against the wall, revealing a small table adorned with melee weapons of all types. He then turned to Church, bowed and left wordlessly. A human steward approached him and removed his bindings.
"Stand up sir, *'lord wishes for you to prove your mettle in the pit."
Church blinked once or twice, and allowed the man to remove his bindings. He said nothing.
"I suppose you might wonder what that is," The young man said.
(cont ->
01-Mar-2016 04:11:28
"The pit is a fighting ring. Fights are to the death, and no holds are barred. I suppose that m'lord would like you learn more about the way you Varrockian specials fight. He's pitted the division champions against you."
Church grunted, and allowed to man to lead him to the counter of weapons.
"Any strike your fancy?" The young man was clearly enthused about the pit. Church shook his head slightly, staring into the young man and imagining whether or not he should break his neck and run.
"But.. sir. I have to suggest you arm yourself. These men you will fight, they are masters of spear and shield. Swordfighters. Mace wielders. Very dangerous types! You won't last long unarmed."
Church closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He ached for tarromin. He spoke, his words sandpaper.
"If I need a weapon, there will be plenty on the ground."
The young man stared wide eyed for a few seconds, then nodded. "Very.. well sir. Right this way."
Church emerged from the small structure into a large coliseum-like structure. He noted that the floor was mostly grated iron. He surmised that beneath the floor was a large, pan-like structure for the collection of blood. There were also no large buildings, which led Church to deduce that he was not yet in the inescapable fortress city of Meiyerditch.
An announcer began to give color commentary to a few hundred, pale human and j**inate observers in the stands.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO TODAY'S NEWEST EDITION OF THE FIGHT PIT! WE HAVE A SPECIAL CONTENDER LINED UP FOR YOU TODAY!"
The crowd shouted and screamed weakly. It was clear that they saw much bloodshed before this point. He must not have looked special to them. Perhaps the Vyres thought putting on a display of a Varrockian 'soldier' being killed in front of them would lower underlying support for the Crown in the region.
How wrong they were.
(Cont ->
Church grunted, and allowed to man to lead him to the counter of weapons.
"Any strike your fancy?" The young man was clearly enthused about the pit. Church shook his head slightly, staring into the young man and imagining whether or not he should break his neck and run.
"But.. sir. I have to suggest you arm yourself. These men you will fight, they are masters of spear and shield. Swordfighters. Mace wielders. Very dangerous types! You won't last long unarmed."
Church closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He ached for tarromin. He spoke, his words sandpaper.
"If I need a weapon, there will be plenty on the ground."
The young man stared wide eyed for a few seconds, then nodded. "Very.. well sir. Right this way."
Church emerged from the small structure into a large coliseum-like structure. He noted that the floor was mostly grated iron. He surmised that beneath the floor was a large, pan-like structure for the collection of blood. There were also no large buildings, which led Church to deduce that he was not yet in the inescapable fortress city of Meiyerditch.
An announcer began to give color commentary to a few hundred, pale human and j**inate observers in the stands.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO TODAY'S NEWEST EDITION OF THE FIGHT PIT! WE HAVE A SPECIAL CONTENDER LINED UP FOR YOU TODAY!"
The crowd shouted and screamed weakly. It was clear that they saw much bloodshed before this point. He must not have looked special to them. Perhaps the Vyres thought putting on a display of a Varrockian 'soldier' being killed in front of them would lower underlying support for the Crown in the region.
How wrong they were.
(Cont ->
01-Mar-2016 04:11:44 - Last edited on 01-Mar-2016 04:21:55 by Ben Aristad
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